Simply Sinful (26 page)

“We seemed to have strayed far from the original point of this conversation. What exactly do you want me to say, Anthony?”

“I want you to treat me like an adult and admit that the situation between you and my brother is far worse than a little quarrel between two mature businessmen.”

“Oh, indeed, it’s far worse than that, isn’t it, Peter?”

Peter stiffened but remained in his seat and waited until Val came to stand beside his brother by the desk. He nodded.

“I was just attempting to explain to Anthony that our personal lives have no impact on our present business relationship. Perhaps you’d like to confirm that.”

Val took off his gloves and threw them on the desk. “I’m not sure if I can.”

Peter got slowly to his feet. “Then perhaps I should go.”

Irritation flickered plainly on Valentin’s face. “For God’s sake, sit down, man, we have a lot to discuss.” He directed a ferocious glare at his brother. “And I’m not sure what any of this has to do with you.”

Anthony shrugged and held up his hands. “Believe it or not, I was just trying to help.” He nodded at Peter. “I apologize if I embarrassed you, Mr. Howard.”

“You didn’t.”

“Good,” Val interjected. “Now get out.”

Peter waited until the door shut firmly behind Anthony.

“You have developed a bad habit of eavesdropping on my conversations, Valentin.”

“Have I?” Val walked across to the window, hands clasped at his back. “Perhaps it is the only option I have, seeing as you refuse to talk to me anymore.”

Peter gazed at his friend’s shadowed profile. Was Abigail right? Was Val concealing more than anger behind his bland expression? He tried for a more conciliatory tone.

“You said you didn’t wish us to be intimate any longer. If that is the case, how can you expect me to confide in you?”

“I
said
I didn’t wish you to join me in my bed.”

“But don’t you see, Val, that’s all part of it. If you no longer trust me in that most intimate of settings, how can I trust you with my problems?”

Abruptly Val turned even farther away and looked out the window. “It is not the same.”

“Perhaps, but maybe it is for the best. You’re correct. I’ve been hanging around you and Sara for too long. Your telling me that I was no longer welcome was a truth I could no longer ignore.” Peter sat forward, hands clasped tightly in his lap. “Can’t you see that I’m trying to do what’s right for all of us? That I need to make a life for myself?”

Val simply stared out the window as if Peter hadn’t spoken.

Peter sighed. “Fine, if you don’t wish to discuss this anymore, do you want me to tell you what happened with Mr. Howard or shall I go?”

“Tell me about Mr. Howard.”

“He thought I wanted something from him.”

“So you said, but you did, didn’t you?”

“I wanted to find out if I had a family, yes.”

“And you found that out.”

Peter frowned. “I also found out that he wanted nothing to do with me, that I was an embarrassment, an aberration to a minister of the church.”

“Did he actually say that to you?”

“It was implied.”

Val turned to face him. “And you are going to give up, walk away, accept your fate with your usual impeccable manners?”

Anger threaded through Peter’s calm. “I don’t need him, Val, and he certainly doesn’t need me hanging on his coattails.”

“But what about the rest of the family? Did you ask about them?”

Peter stood up. “This is nothing to do with you. Why are you being so insistent?”

“Because I think you allowed Mr. Howard to distract you from your true purpose of finding your family.”

“How so?”

“By walking away.”

Peter found he was trembling. “Don’t you dare stand in judgment of me; you have no right.”

“Perhaps you didn’t want to continue the conversation because it was easier for you to believe he didn’t want you than to try to make him accept you.”

Peter picked up his hat and gloves. “Damn you, Valentin. Attend to your own family and leave me alone!” He glared at his erstwhile best friend, who merely smiled in return.

“And there you go again. Walking out when the conversation becomes not to your liking. Why are you so afraid to stand up and fight for what you want?”

Peter walked up to him and leaned close, anger rapidly consuming what little control he had left.

“I fought for you, Valentin Sokorvsky, and what did that get me?”

“I don’t know, do you?”

“An unhealthy dependency on a man who doesn’t know how to love and who discards people when they are no longer of use to him?”

Valentin let out a breath. “Is that what I gave you? I always thought I gave you a reason to keep living. That is, after all, what you gave me.” He stepped back and bowed. “But perhaps I was mistaken.”

Peter met his gaze, tried to forget the flash of pain he’d glimpsed in Valentin’s extraordinary eyes.

“Valentin…”

“I’ll send you a message if Mr. Howard comes to his senses and decides to communicate with you again. He doesn’t have your home address.”

Peter bowed as well. “I don’t expect that will happen, but thank you for the offer.”

Valentin moved away and headed for the door, the epitome of the gracious aristocrat. “Enjoy the rest of your vacation with the Beechams and I hope to see you back ready to work in a couple of weeks.”

There was nothing left for Peter to do but walk through the door and out into the street. It was still raining and there was no sign of a hackney cab. He set out, dodging the line of heavy brewers carts emerging from the side streets and the beggars who followed along behind. In the old days he would have taken his troubles to Sara. Now all he could think about was getting to Abigail and hearing her no-nonsense take on his situation.

Abby looked up as the clock chimed two and the door to her sitting room opened. Peter stood there, his smile strained, his hair damp from the rain. She tucked her book down the side of the chair and took off her spectacles.

“Are you coming in?”

“If you are receiving visitors.”

“James was in a bad mood and has gone to his club and left me to my own devices, so of course I’m receiving visitors.” She gestured at the seat opposite her and Peter sank into it. “How did your meeting with Lord Sokorvsky go?”

“Badly as usual.”

She raised her eyebrows. “What did you say to him?”

“You assume the fault was mine?”

“I didn’t say that.”

She studied him, took in the grim set of his jaw and the hardness in his eyes. Whatever had happened he was still angry about it. He crossed his legs and flicked at an imaginary piece of lint.

“Lord Sokorvsky had the gall to tell me that the reason my interview with Mr. William Howard went badly was my own fault.”

“And how did he arrive at that conclusion?”

“Because I walked out.”

Abby bit her lip. “Well, it is most unlike you.”

“He said I wasn’t prepared to fight for what I wanted and had taken the first opportunity to take offence and leave offered to me.”

“And do you think he’s right?”

He glared at her. “I don’t know. When he said it, I simply wanted to land him a facer.”

“It’s always hard when someone forces us to look at our own behavior, isn’t it?”

He shot her a sharp glance. “Are you saying he is right?”

“Are you?”

Peter thrust a hand through his hair. “Hell, Abigail, I don’t know. Valentin says I should have asked questions, found out if I have any other relatives still living.”

“That would certainly be interesting to know. It’s even possible that Mr. Howard’s views don’t truly represent everyone else’s in the family.”

“So you agree with Valentin and believe I’m a coward who lost an opportunity to find out more.”

“That’s not what I said. We agreed to be honest with each other. I’m just trying to help. Have you thought about contacting Mr. Howard again?”

Peter stood up and paced the small room, his expression far from calm. What else had passed between him and Valentin to make him on edge and so vulnerable?

“I don’t need the Howard family or the Sokorvskys for that matter. I’m perfectly capable of making a life of my own.”

Abby compressed her lips. “Of course you are, Peter. In fact, you don’t need James or me either.”

He stopped his pacing. “What are you trying to say?”

“You don’t need us, but it doesn’t stop you wanting us. Everyone wants somebody to love and support them.”

He stared at her as if she spoke a different language. She forced herself to continue.

“I thought I could survive in a sexless marriage until I wanted a child.” She sighed. “If I hadn’t taken a chance on you and James, I would’ve denied myself the most pleasurable moments of my existence so far.”

“How did you find the courage to make that choice, Abigail? How the hell did you do it?”

She held his gaze. “Because I realized that doing something was far better than doing nothing. Taking my fate into my own hands had to be better than slowly withering away because of my own fear and ignorance.”

He looked away as if he couldn’t bear the sincerity in her voice.

“I’m not sure I have your courage.”

She tried to imagine how he felt, a man who had no family, no fond childhood memories and no support. A child forced into brutal sexual slavery struggling to become an adult who understood that sex and love didn’t have to be bought or paid for. Who could blame him if he was unwilling to trust his future to the uncertainties of others?

She got up and went to him, took his cold hands. “But you will try, yes? James and I will help you.”

His fingers tightened on hers. “If Mr. Howard contacts me again, I will talk to him.”

She stroked his smooth cheek, fought back the tears that threatened. He didn’t need to see them. He needed to see her strength of purpose, not her fears for him. She studied his drawn angelic face. How had she come to care so much for a man she’d known only for a few weeks? Had James realized how attracted she would be to Peter and would he care that she shared his deep feelings for this particular man?

“Abigail, are you all right?”

She felt her skin heat and quickly took her hand away from his face. He studied her, his mouth turned up at the corner in a quizzical smile. Goodness, he was beautiful, especially when he made love to her and James, especially then.

“I was just thinking about James’s birthday surprise tomorrow night. Do you still wish to go through with it?”

He didn’t even blink at her abrupt change of subject.

“Of course. I have it all planned. You still wish to be part of it, yes?”

She nodded and drew him back to sit down by the fire. She rang the bell for tea. “I’m looking forward to it. I think James will enjoy himself too.”

“I believe he will. Did he say when he would be back?”

She shrugged. “You know James far better than I do. I have no idea what a gentleman may find to do in London for a whole day.”

Peter sat back, his face relaxing slightly. “After his club, he might go buy a horse at Tattersalls, and visit his tailor, place a few bets somewhere, argue at a coffee house. The distractions available for the idle rich are endless.”

“Unlike you.”

“Indeed. I am usually hard at work in my office by now. I only emerge from my chrysalis to become a social butterfly at the weekends and during the evening.”

“Despite what he says, James does play a large part in the running of his estates.”

“I don’t doubt it. Did you think I was belittling him?”

Abby glared at him. “You are being very defensive at the moment. Please don’t read ulterior motives into every word I utter.”

He smiled at her, the first real smile she’d seen from him all day.

“I apologize, Abigail.”

He sat back as a maid brought in the tea and set it on the table between them. Abby handed him a cup and poured her own. She glanced at him over the raised teapot.

“Is that all you have to say?”

He blinked at her. “Yes.”

“Just a simple apology with no added explanation as to why you were right all along?”

“Yes.”

She smiled at him, realized exactly why she liked him so much.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

He met her gaze, his expression as serious as her own.

“For being yourself.”

Startled pleasure flickered briefly in his eyes. “No one has ever said that to me before. And recently I’ve come to doubt exactly who and what I am.”

She put down her cup, reached across and took his hand. “You are Peter, my friend and my lover. Is that good enough for you?”

He squeezed her hand in reply, his voice husky. “It is more than I deserve.”

There it was again, that hint of vulnerability behind his exquisitely crafted exterior, the unspoken assumption that he was somehow less worthy of love than anyone else. Abby brought his hand to her lips and kissed it.

“Lord Sokorvsky was right, you know.”

Peter let out a long breath. “I know, but don’t ever tell him I said that. He’d never let me forget it.”

19

P
eter straightened his cravat and pinned it in place with a pearl-headed pin. He nodded at his immaculate reflection in the mirror. No one would guess how hollow he felt inside, how unsure of everything he had once believed about himself. He should have stayed and listened to the rest of what William Howard wanted to say. There was really no excuse for his cowardly retreat.

In his heart he’d always known that his mother must have been abandoned by her family. So why was it so difficult to deal with? It didn’t make him less of a man. If he’d stayed, he might’ve gained a better sense of closure, of justification for his contempt for William Howard. He frowned. In retrospect, some of the things his grandfather had said struck him as evasive and now he wondered why.

With a huge effort he dragged his thoughts back to the present. The evening’s entertainment beckoned. An evening when James would receive the kind of sexual attention Peter believed he craved, and Abigail…he shrugged into the tight-fitting brown coat Adams held out for him. Abigail would enjoy herself immensely.