To Seduce an Earl (6 page)

It was worse than she’d realized. She’d known this day would come, but not now. Not so soon. Not at the worse possible time. Dear God, how much was he spending each day? It had to be a minor fortune. Her fingers curled around the curved arms of the chair. She shuddered to think about what else he didn’t seem fit to mention. “I told you to let me handle the money.”

His head jerked upright, his face puckered into a mask of fury. “You’re a woman.” John rarely got angry, but when he did, he was as annoying as a toddler throwing a tantrum. “I will not be put on an allowance like some child! It’s my inheritance, least you forget!”

How could she forget when he reminded them weekly that they were there out of his generosity? They were not blood related. He could have shoved them into a cottage in the wilds of England, or sent them to their poor, Irish relatives. But not all of the money was his. Mama had her small bit of savings, savings she had planned to use as dowry for Grace and Patience. But it was gone, apparently with everything else.

“Or did you think to invest the money in your ridiculous treasure hunts?” His lips pulled back into a sneer. “Perhaps if you spent less time with your nose in a book and more in society, Rodrick wouldn’t treat you like a bloody sister.”

His words stung because they were true, but she’d sell her soul to the devil before she’d admit he’d hurt her. Grace looked away, afraid he’d read the truth in her eyes. “And my mother, does she know the details of our financial situation?”

“Of course not.”

Thank the heavens for small miracles. Mama didn’t need something else to worry about while she lay abed in pain. How stupid they’d been to let John handle their accounts, but what choice did they have? His house, his inheritance, as he’d said. The rotter. “And this…Lady Lavender.” Gawd, she could barely get the words out. “How did you pay her?”

He flushed, feigning interest in the carpet once more. “I borrowed the money.”

Grace surged to her feet. “You didn’t!”

“From Rodrick.”

She sank into her chair. She was going to be sick. “Surely you didn’t tell him what the money would be for?”

He frowned. “Of course not. I’m not a bloody idiot.”

That was debatable.

He shifted, hesitating, then started forward. “I have things to do. I will not stand here and be questioned by a woman.” He stormed across the room and jerked open the door.

Things to do. More money to spend. He left the room without another word; leaving her to pick up the pieces of his aftermath, as always.
 

She listened to the thump of her stepbrother’s footfalls. The thud of the front door that followed his departure. Only when she heard the soft clomp of horse hooves over cobbled stone did she feel strong enough to stand.

She’d known all along he was squandering money, but what could she have done to prevent it? As a woman, and not even a blood relation, not much. She’d hidden the few pieces of Mama’s jewelry, but the money she would make wouldn’t last long.

Marks was no longer at his post, not surprisingly. He was most likely sleeping off his drink near the kitchen hearth. Grace made her way up the steps and paused outside her mother’s door. Patience’s soft murmur was a comforting melody. Smoothing her hair back from her face and pinching her cheeks, she prepared for Mama’s astute gaze.

She pushed the door wide and slipped into the room. It would have been warm and cozy, if it hadn’t held the bitter and nauseating scent of medicines. A scent she knew well. First Father. Then her stepfather. Now Mama. One had to wonder if the family was cursed.

Patience looked up from her needlework, those green eyes flashing with barely concealed relief. “Good, you’re finally back! Mama said I couldn’t stop until you’d returned.”

She tossed aside her needlework and rushed toward Grace. She was wearing trousers again. Grace bit her lip, refusing to reprimand her sister. Papa had so wanted a boy, it was his bloody fault. But Charlie had died at age two and the only other child Mama had delivered was a golden girl. At sixteen, Patience should have been going to balls, wearing her blonde hair up, learning to flirt. Instead, she was stuck here with her spinster sister and dying mother.
 

“Did you find your book then? Can we start searching for the treasure?”

Grace laughed, sliding her arm around Patience’s narrow shoulders. As a young girl, Grace had delved into the world of treasure hunting, and unfortunately pulled Patience in with. Ridiculous, she knew, yet it was something to occupy her mind on lazy summer days. “No, my dear. I’m afraid the only treasures you’ll find tonight are Martha’s biscuits.”

Patience grinned. “That will do. Sleep well, Mama.” She threw their mother a kiss and disappeared into the hall.

Grace closed the door and moved softly to her Mother’s side. In the dim light of the lantern she looked even more fragile than normal. An angel too beautiful for this world. Patience had their mother’s green eyes and golden hair, but Grace had received her father’s Irish looks. She settled on the edge of the bed, careful not to jostle.

Although Mama had been stuck in her bed for a good month, she still managed to smile. “Is John home?”

Grace looked away, feigning interest in Patience’s needlework. A blob of red and yellow strings mixed together to form a…flower? Horse? Gads, her sister was hopeless and it was her fault. She should have spent more time with Patience, teaching her to behave as a lady. “No. He only just left.”

Her mother’s thin hand settled atop hers; the skin pale, so translucent one could see the blue veins. “Hmm. And you’re upset about this?”

Grace gave her mother a forced smile. “He spends too much time away, is all.”

“I thought you’d be happy. You’ve never hidden your disdain for your stepbrother.”

Grace bristled at the comment. “He’s a bloody idiot, Mama, and he’s been cruel to Patience and me since you married his father.”

“Grace,” her sharp voice belied her fragile condition. “He lost his mother at a young age. And only a few years ago, his father. He could have thrown us out, you know, when his father died.”

Perhaps life would have been better if he had. But no, he’d kept them here, close by, where he could control her mother’s small amount of money, control it and lose it. Her fingers curled into her skirt as she resisted the urge to blurt out the truth. She’d never thought much of John, but she was now growing to despise him. What would they do with no money? How would they care for Mama?

Grace wasn’t stupid. She knew her mother was dying. How badly she wanted to make her last months comfortable. And what of Patience? What would become of her sister if they hadn’t the money to find her a decent match? She would not allow Patience to follow her on the path toward loneliness.

Mama started coughing, sucking in sharp, wheezing breaths that tore at Grace’s heart. She slid her arm under her mother’s neck and lifted her, at the same time, grabbing a glass of water from the bedside table.

Her mother pushed the cup away. “No. Just a moment.” She closed her eyes, taking in deep, rattling breaths until finally her body settled into an uneasy stillness.

Those green eyes opened, watching Grace with an unsettling clarity. “Tis amusing, you know, when you’re dying and you need human touch more than any other time, is when people are afraid to visit.”

Grace’s heart squeezed so painfully, she could barely find breath. “Mama, I don’t—”

“Shhh, my pet.” She chuckled softly, closing her eyes. “All is well. But there are times when I actually wouldn’t even mind a cat to cuddle.”

A tear slipped from Grace’s eye, trailing unheeded down her cheek. The guilt was almost unbearable. They tried to be with Mama as much as possible, but there were times when they couldn’t. With the minimal amount of servants in residence, it was up to Grace to keep house. “I’ll bring you Miss Kitty, Mama. So when Patience and I aren’t here you can cuddle her.”

She weakly patted Grace’s hand. “Tis’ all right, you’re here now.”

Grace rested her chin atop her mother’s silky head and breathed in deep her scent, a scent she’d always adored as a child…roses…just barely noticeable over the bitter scent of illness.

“Don’t be afraid, Mama. All will be well. You’ll see.” Grace’s voice didn’t even quiver at the lie. “We’re here, Mama, and we’ll always be here.”

At least until the debt collectors threw them onto the streets.

********

Alex pressed his fingers to his lips and slouched onto the settee. The flames in the marble hearth flickered and danced a seductive melody, but he barely noticed their warmth.

He swore he could still taste her. When most women tasted of sherry or wine, she had tasted of peppermint, as if she’d had a sweet before meeting with him. Her scent, her touch, even her taste reeked of innocence. He reached into his pocket and pulled out her forgotten glove. The leather was worn smooth, soft as butter.
 
 

The look on her face when he’d told her where she was…Lord, he hadn’t laughed so hard in…he didn’t remember when. Unease settled like a boulder in his gut. She’d made him
feel
. First attraction when he hadn’t felt lust in years and then amusement when there were so few things to laugh about. Something that felt oddly like anticipation hummed beneath his skin. Restless, his fingers stretched, then wrapped tightly around the glove.

He was intrigued, despite himself. Why? Why this woman… this incorrigible, completely unattainable woman? He rubbed his lips once more, thinking of that heated kiss. She was lovely, surely, but it wasn’t her looks. He’d been surrounded by beautiful women for most of his life. A veritable mystery and he loved a good mystery. Not that it mattered as she most likely wouldn’t return. And that thought quickly soured his mood.

“That good, eh?”

He stuffed the glove back into his pocket and glanced over his shoulder. James stood near the door, dressed impeccably as ever in his pressed jacket and trousers. Not a blond hair out of place. He took his position seriously. Too seriously. He wasn’t attending a meeting at the House of Lords, for God’s sake.

“Good?” Alex chuckled wryly, studying the painted canaries that flew across the walls. “More…interesting.”

He raised a brow. “Hmm. Well, I’ve finished my discussion with Lady Lavender. She said she’d be calling on you shortly.”

Alex nodded and stretched, crossing his legs at the ankles as James moved to the sideboard for a drink. At the end of every night, in the wee hours of the morning, Ophelia called them one by one into her office in order to discuss the day’s work. And she wanted details. It was insane, really, and at first he’d been horrifyingly embarrassed.

Those piercing lavender eyes watching him.
“Do you think you did well, Alex?”

He’d shrug, heat traveling up his neck.

“Did she enjoy her experience? Did she reach ecstasy?”

He’d stutter out a response and she’d be pleased with him, or pleased with the fact that she’d embarrassed him thoroughly. Which, he wasn’t sure. Now, hell, she could ask him pretty much anything and he wouldn’t even flinch. Still, she insisted on seeing them. The problem was he wasn’t sure what to say about this latest woman. Grace, was her name. A pretty name. A name for an innocent. A lady. For some reason he didn’t feel like discussing this woman with Ophelia.

“Have a good day,” James said, making his way toward the door.

“James.” Alex surged to his feet, pushing aside thoughts of a hazel-eyed innocent. He had a chance to talk to the man when he might not again for days.

James turned, a look of wariness crossing those green eyes. “Yes?”

They didn’t talk often. James didn’t trust Alex and Gideon, and had never hidden that fact. He couldn’t understand why they weren’t honored that Lady Lavender had chosen them. They couldn’t understand why he couldn’t see the truth, that Lady Lavender was nothing more than a demon in a beautiful woman’s body.

“You’re…content here?”

James shrugged. “What do you mean? I’m fed, clothed and housed much better than I could have ever been.” A clouded looked crossed his features, a painful past memory. “Truth is if I’d continued on the way I was, I’d probably be dead by now. Either from a brawl or from starvation.”

He painted a bleak picture and Alex remembered the thin, underfed lad he’d been. A street rat. It gave Alex second thoughts about leaving. “I understand. I understand why you feel loyalty toward the woman, but James, think on it. You, Gideon and I, brought here together under blackmail.”

James bristled, his jaw working. “Not blackmail.”

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

James crossed his arms over his chest, a defensive position that told Alex he was wearing thin the man’s patience. “And she was right, we would have. No one gets anything for free, Alex. She expected me to work.” He smiled, a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “There could be worse ways to make a living you know.”

“Indeed,” Alex said softly, although he could think of a hundred different things he’d prefer. But he didn’t have a choice. She and her henchmen made sure of that. He resided in a gilded prison, but a prison all the same.