To Please A Lady (The Seduction Series) (20 page)

“Are you well?” Despite his pride, he was curious. She had manipulated him, controlled him for years, yet he still couldn’t help but care. Damn his protective instinct.

“Gideon has left for good.”

James frowned, confused. “I… see.” He shouldn’t have been surprised. Of the three of them, Gideon had hated Lavender Hills Estate and its owner the most. Yet if Ophelia had secrets binding them all to this estate as Alex had claimed, then how had they both escaped? He settled in the chair next to hers.

“You’re sad because he’s gone?”

She didn’t respond.

“Perhaps this is a blessing,” he tried, wondering how in the hell he could get the truth from her lips. “You never did get on well. It would be better to have a man who truly wants to be here than someone you are… forcing.”

She released a wry, bitter laugh. “He belonged here. Belonged with me.”

He thought her response odd indeed. Belonged here? Gideon had never belonged here, surely she knew that. Or did her words mean something deeper, darker? Hell, the woman he had thought he’d known was gone. He had a feeling he was seeing the true Ophelia, buried under the weight of her own bitterness and pain.

“We uncovered the whereabouts of your sister,” she said, surprising him.

“Where is she?”

She picked up her sherry, and he didn’t miss the way her hand trembled. Was it his imagination, or did she seem to be drinking more often? “She’s living in a small cottage in Bath. Actually has two adorable children. Is quite content from what I heard.”

She painted a serene and beautiful picture. Too bad James didn’t believe her in the least. “And my mother?”

“She did not give word about your mother because she did not wish to upset you.”

She didn’t meet his gaze, he realized with suspicion. Whenever they spoke, she always looked directly at him as if she had nothing to hide. Tonight she stared moodily into the flames. “And she still thinks I am working for the government as a spy, which is why I can’t be in touch with her?”

She took another drink. “Yes.”

He settled back in his chair and watched her wearily, bloody tired of the games. “I see.”

For one long moment neither of them spoke. Ophelia stared blankly at the flames in the fireplace, slumped in her chair like one ancient and decrepit. Aye, she was much older than he, but this was the first time she seemed her age. It was only when a piece of coal popped, releasing a spark of embers, that she came awake and glanced at him, startled as if just realizing he was still there.

“I will leave you in peace, but before I go…”

She lifted a brow. “What is it?”

“A client.”

She picked up her sherry and drank. She still hadn’t touched her food. “Yes?”

“It’s obvious her husband is abusing her. She had bruising.” He wasn’t sure why he told Ophelia about Eleanor; perhaps to see if she had any bit of compassion within her.

She sighed, sounding more annoyed than concerned. “Unfortunately it happens often.”

Despite the truth of her statement, it still rankled him. He raked his hands through his hair. Society seemed to agree that it was wrong, but the law did not prove to be in a woman’s favor. In other words, they ignored the issue because actually doing something about it was too bloody hard. “Is there nothing we can do?”

“What, James?” She snatched up the snifter and refilled it. “As the husband, he legally owns her.” She lifted her glass in salute. “All hail the queen.” She drank deeply. “It’s ridiculous that we can have a woman ruler, yet we have no real control.”

Her bitterness was palpable and justified. “There is no one you know?”

“No. I’m sorry.” She lifted her decanter and refilled her glass. “ ’Tis best you learn now, James, that the world is unfair and even more unfair for women. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll bathe and head to bed.”

She stood, and he didn’t miss the way she swayed as she headed toward the door, taking her glass with her. His father had started drinking after he’d lost his position; he’d been fired and humiliated. What was Ophelia’s reasoning? What drove her to numb her pain? Guilt, perhaps?

He stood slowly. She’d left the door open where anyone could stroll by, but he was alone. He waited until the familiar fall of her footsteps faded. Completely alone. She’d lied to him, was lying to him still. He glanced toward the desk where she kept her notes on
the clients and men on staff. Dare he? He moved slowly to the desk, keeping his attention on the door. He could hear the soft voices of other men who worked at the estate, the murmur of servants, but no one dared enter her office.

James knelt before the desk. Of course the drawers were locked, that was no surprise. He grabbed the mail opener atop her scheduling book and slid it into the keyhole. He closed his eyes, pressed his ear to the drawer, and concentrated. Moments later he heard the click of the lock. Perhaps he was slower than he’d been as a youth, but he hadn’t lost his talent after all. The drawer slid open easily, but he was disappointed to see the typical books of business. Nothing personal.

“Damn,” he muttered, shutting the drawer.

The fact that he’d never seen anything personal of Ophelia’s troubled him. He unlocked the bottom drawer a little more quickly. He’d never let himself wonder much before, but now his mind was constantly spinning. Who was Lady Lavender? Where had she come from? What was her purpose in bringing him here? He knew she was from France. He’d uncovered that much years ago, even though she’d spent years trying to hide her accent. Other than that she remained an elusive mystery.

Frustrated, he shoved aside a book, and there they were… letters. At least five, all postmarked from Alex and addressed to him. Open, read, but not by James. He swallowed hard, anger and confusion burning through his chest. With trembling hands, he reached out and touched the missives to make sure they were real. She’d lied. Alex and Gideon had been right all along… Ophelia had never had their greater good in mind.

“I see I can no longer trust you.” Her voice snapped through the room, but it didn’t startle him. No, nothing could surprise him any longer.

James lifted his head, meeting Ophelia’s gaze. There was no pain or guilt in her voice; she didn’t bloody care if he betrayed her. Had she ever cared?

“Why?” he demanded, standing and holding up the letters. “Why?”

She sashayed inside, no worries marring her smooth skin. Wavers followed as if trying to protect her… from James. The irony was not lost on him, the one man she had trusted the most. “You belong here, and I will not allow Alex and Gideon to fill your head with nonsense.”

“I understand. I understand why you feel loyalty toward the woman, but James, think on it. You, Gideon, and I, brought here together by blackmail.”

James had bristled, annoyed with the accusations.
“Not blackmail.”

Alex released a harsh laugh.
“She told you if you didn’t do as she said, your family would starve to death.”

“Nonsense?” James asked. “Or the truth?”

She studied him intensely, as if trying to decide how much she could trust him. She wore the same shrewd gaze she wore when dealing with clients. “Wavers, shut the door.”

He did immediately, no questions asked. James didn’t like the look upon either of their faces. Ophelia wore a smirk of satisfaction, as if she’d expected him to turn on her. James slammed the pack of letters upon the desk. War it would be. Pure anger was crawling rapidly through his body, clawing its way to the surface, and he was finding it incredibly hard to retain control. “I demand to know the truth.”

“Oh, James, believe me, you don’t want the truth.” She headed toward the sideboard, pouring herself brandy. He had to resist the urge to wrap his hands around her neck. He’d never in his life wanted to harm a female, but if he lost that one bit of humanity he had left, he feared he would.

“James, you don’t tire of this?”
Alex had asked him years ago
. “Being nothing more than a toy.”

“It’s a position. A job I do well. There could be worse things in life than pleasuring beautiful women.”

Alex had patted him on the back.
“That’s where you’re wrong, my boy. It’s not a job, it’s a hell in which we have no choice but to reside.”

“What will you do?” Ophelia asked, strolling toward the mantel, the drink in her hand sparkling under the firelight. “Will you leave? And then how will you support your dear sister and her lovely family?”

James began to tremble, his emotions a conflicting mesh of ire and despair. He tried to pay attention to her but found his mind spinning back… back in time. Suddenly, he was in the garden of the Rutherford ball two years ago, the same garden where he’d been attacked.

“Liar!”
Alex stepped closer, seething.
“I don’t need someone to check on my welfare. You were spying. Damn you, whose side are you on?”

And he had been spying, sent by Ophelia herself.

James had calmly smoothed down his jacket, his movements slow and determined like the arrogant bastard he’d been.
“I’m on the side of the woman who gives money to my family.”

“You see,” Ophelia said, taking a deep drink and drawing him back into her office. “There’s something I didn’t tell you, thinking to spare your feelings. Your sister relies upon your money, as her husband left her and the children. They would be on the streets if not for you.”

“You’re a fucking idiot if you trust her,”
Alex had said years ago.

“How do I know you’re telling me the truth?” James demanded.

She shrugged as she took another drink. “Would you care to visit her?”

“Think on it, James,”
Alex’s voice whispered through his memory.
“We three were brought here at the same time. There must be a link, but until we tell each other the truth, we can’t possibly understand.”

“What say you, James?” Ophelia asked. “Do you want to visit her?”

“I know why I’m here,”
James had snapped.
“Ophelia offered me a position, a way to save my family, and I grabbed the opportunity.”

What if it had all been for nothing? The thought almost brought him to his knees. “Perhaps I would like to see my sister after all.”

Ophelia lifted a brow, obviously surprised. “Will you tell her the truth?”

“I don’t see why I should. I’ll keep my story as is.”

She took a drink, watching him over the rim of her glass. He could read nothing in her expression. “And if a neighbor recognizes you?”

“I highly doubt the women from a small country shire will have visited Lavender Hills.”

“Touché,” she said with a wry smile. Aye, she smiled, but he didn’t miss the coldness in her eyes. She was incredibly angry with him, and he didn’t give a damn. “Well then, I shall tell the driver to prepare. Two days from now?”

“Wonderful.” James scooped up the letters. “And considering these are addressed to me, I’ll take them.” He paused for a telling moment. “Unless we are no longer able to receive mail?”

She waved her hand through the air in dismissal. “Take what you will, it shouldn’t bother me. I only meant to protect you.”

“Of course you did.” He gave her a tight smile, bowed mockingly, and headed toward the door. He wouldn’t look back, didn’t dare say another word. He knew she lied. James strolled from the room, trying to keep his anger in check. His life had become a bloody mystery, but there was one thing he knew for sure… Ophelia had no intention of taking him to his sister.

Eleanor wasn’t sure how she could focus on knitting mufflers and mittens for the needy when all she could think about was James and his missing sister. Fanny had hired an investigator for
Eleanor, but so far the man had come up with nothing new. How could she concentrate when Fanny was to be back with the latest report any moment?

“Are you expecting someone else?” Lady Rafferty asked, leaning closer to Eleanor.

Startled, Eleanor jumped, dropping her needle. “What?”

“You keep looking toward the windows.”

She forced herself to smile and scooped up the needle. “Oh, no. Merely hoping the rain holds off.”

“Isn’t it too early to be knitting winter wear?” Mrs. Trustman whined from across the room. For once Eleanor was thankful for the woman’s complaining, for it drew Lady Rafferty’s all too intense attention to her.

“’Tis never too early to prepare for winter,” Lady Rafferty returned. “Nor never too early to care for those in need.”

Eleanor resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Lady Rafferty had started the Ladies’ Society for the Needy merely to portray herself as a kind and God-fearing woman. But there was never a more gossipy mongrel than she.

“Wouldn’t mind him flirting with me,” Lady Pierce said from across the room.

“Whom are you discussing?” Lady Rafferty demanded, setting her knitting on her lap.

Lady Pierce flushed. “No one. Merely a Mr. Smith. New to town. Very attractive.”

The rest of the women giggled like debutantes. The room of colorfully dressed ladies would have been a delightful distraction any other day. This afternoon their presence merely grated. Eleanor sighed, setting her red scarf upon the table and picking up her tea. Every week they took turns at each other’s homes. She’d almost forgotten about today’s meeting and would have cried off had she the chance.