Then Comes Seduction

7

JASPER was not as totally self-absorbed as his behavior in London often suggested. He was carelessly fond of his elder sister, Rachel, who was now married to Laurence Gooding and living in the north of England with him. But he had a deep affection for Charlotte, his young half-sister. So deep, in fact, that he sometimes suspected that she had perfected the art of winding him about her little finger whenever she wanted something badly enough.

She had wanted very badly indeed to come to London with him this year after Easter, and he had brought her. But there were strict conditions attached, one of which being that she spend her days glued to the side of Miss Daniels, her erstwhile governess, now her companion, who could be relied upon to see to it that she behaved with the proper decorum at every moment. Another condition was that she clearly understand that this visit was in no way a sort of premature come-out. She was still only seventeen years old.

Her eighteenth birthday was in August. Next year she would make her debut in society. All would be done right and proper when the time came. He was still not quite sure how it would be done since Rachel was adamant in her refusal even to think about coming to London for a full Season in order to sponsor her half-sister when she had her own home and husband and family to occupy her days. And Aunt Florrie, his mother’s only sister, was an invalid and living somewhere in Cornwall. The only other possibility-Lady Forester, Charlotte’s Aunt Prunella on her father’s side of the family-was really no possibility at all. He would rather keep Charlotte as a permanent resident of the schoolroom than hand her over to the tender mercies of that particular lady. By next year he would have to think of something-some decent way of launching Charlotte into society and onto the marriage mart.

But he had brought her to town this year, bowing to her wheedling arguments that it would be to her advantage next year if this year she learned her way around London, got to know which were the best dressmakers and the best shops, acquainted herself with all the best galleries and museums and libraries-he had pursed his lips at that particular argument-and perhaps called privately upon a few older ladies who had been their mama’s particular friends.

Charlotte was his mother’s daughter by her second husband, who had died when she was not quite eight. Their mother had survived him by only five years.

Jasper lay awake thinking about Charlotte’s upcoming birthday the night after the Parmeter ball, his fingers laced behind his head, his legs crossed at the ankles. Or, to be more accurate, he was thinking about her birthday party.

It was no new thought. He had promised even before bringing her to town that she might have some sort of birthday celebration in August, after she returned home. She had concocted a happy scheme of inviting all the young people of the neighborhood for miles around to a day of frolicking in the park and an evening of charades and country dancing in the drawing room. He had been quite prepared to indulge her. One’s young sister turned eighteen only once in her life, after all.

And since that was so, he thought now, then perhaps something altogether grander than her idea would be more the thing. Something far more lavish.

His generosity of spirit did not arise entirely from a selfless motive, of course. There was another.

He gazed up at the pleated silk of the canopy over his head.

He must be mad. Not that that was any new realization.

What the devil had got into him? Why ever had he even asked her to waltz? Because she had looked so prunish?

Probably that had been it.

And why had he spent the half hour of their dance trying to wheedle her into agreeing to a double wager with him? Just to see if she could be goaded? She almost had been too, by Jove. Her interest and her pride had certainly been piqued. But she had got cold feet at the last moment.

Why had he then proceeded to pledge himself to winning his side of the nonexistent wager? Only to prove to them both that he could?

No doubt.

Did he want her in love with him, though? Of course he did not. The very thought alarmed him. It would be embarrassing for him and possibly painful for her. For all his sins, he had never set out deliberately to hurt anyone. Though he had almost done just that on their first encounter, of course.

Was that what had made him stop?

Damnation! What was it about the woman?

But he knew the answer. Of all the females he had ever known, she was the only one who had ever been able to hold her own with him verbally. He could still remember that masterly setdown she had given him at Vauxhall when she must surely have been just about expiring from shock and humiliation. She had kept pace with him earlier this evening too.

And you underestimate me! You are about as likely to persuade me to love you, Lord Montford, as I am to persuade you to love me.

Ah, yes, that was what had done it.

The woman was irresistible.

He still did not want her in love with him, though, did he?

But he did want her to admit… oh, that she was infatuated with him, perhaps.

He was attracted to Katherine Huxtable, an admission that surprised him since he never allowed himself to be attracted to any female he had no hope of bedding. What would be the point, after all, since he was certainly not looking for a leg shackle? He was attracted to Miss Huxtable, though-a strange fact when he remembered how assiduously he had avoided even thinking of her for the last three years. Was it as long ago as three? She had said it was, and women were usually good at such details.

Odd to think that he might have had her with the greatest ease three years ago. Would he still want her this year if he had had her then? Of course, this year it would not be nearly so easy. For one thing, she would now know what he was up to. For another, she was older and wiser. She was no green girl, she had said earlier. And he believed her.

It was unlikely that she could ever be persuaded to admit that she loved him-or even that she was infatuated with him. As far as he was concerned, they were one and the same thing anyway. But of course, she would be too stubborn to admit either.

He had suggested an unwinnable wager.

A quite irresistible one, in fact.

Which perhaps explained why his thoughts had strayed to Charlotte’s birthday and the idea of giving her a party on a far grander scale than he had hitherto intended.

He lay awake for a while longer, plotting and planning and yawning.

It would be diabolical, he decided just before falling off to sleep. But he would not be taking away from her even one iota of her power to tell him that he had lost his wager, would he? She could say no even before that question arose, in fact, and put an end to the wager before it started.

Like a soggy firework.

She would not say no. He would see to it that she did not.

He had a wager to win, by Jove, and he never lost a wager. Not even that once. Not really.

“I have been thinking, Char,” Jasper said at breakfast the morning after Lady Parmeter’s ball, “about your birthday.”

She glanced up from her plate.

“Have you, Jasper?” she asked rather warily.

She looked very different from Rachel and him. She was golden-haired, hazel-eyed, small, and dainty. And she seemed to have grown overnight from a girl into a young lady-one who was already turning heads on Bond Street and in Hyde Park. Male heads, by thunder. He had caught a few young bucks at it one morning and had stared them into bumbling confusion without even having to resort to the use of his quizzing glass. If he had to crack a few heads together, he would not hesitate to do it.

She was seventeen, for the love of God.

Charlotte was also shy, modest, eager, impulsive, occasionally given to excited chatter-a bewildering mix of contradictory characteristics, in fact.

“I have been thinking,” he said again now, “that it might be a good idea to have more than just neighbors at Cedarhurst for your birthday. A few of the new acquaintances you have made in town might perhaps be persuaded to join you there for a week or two. You will turn eighteen only once, after all. Why not have a full-blown house party for the occasion?”

She had made some acquaintances even though she had attended no ton parties. She was not the only young person languishing in London under the stricture of being slightly too young to attend any real social events.

She leaned slightly toward him across the table, her cheeks flushed and her eyes shining.

“Oh, Jasper, I would like it of all things,” she said. “Might I ask Miss Clement and the Misses Dubois? Even perhaps Lady Marianne Willis?”

“I can think of no objection to any one of them,” he said, trying to recall who their parents were-friends of his mother’s, probably, or friends of friends. Her companion would have made sure that all were thoroughly respectable. “What do you think, Miss Daniels?”

“Miss Clement and the elder Miss Dubois have already made their come-out,” she said, “and so will be valuable friends for Charlotte to have next year-though rumor has it that Miss Dubois is about to be betrothed. Miss Hortense Dubois and Lady Marianne will be making their come-out with Charlotte next spring. I think the idea of a house party a splendid one, my lord. It would be a good idea to invite some young gentlemen too, perhaps, and possibly a few slightly older guests who are more established in society.”

Jasper nodded his agreement. She had taken the words out of his mouth.

“But what gentlemen will we invite?” Charlotte asked, leaning back in her chair. “And what older people? I know hardly anyone. It is most frustrating to be seventeen and more than ten months and yet-”

Her brother held up a staying hand.

“You and Miss Daniels may discuss the guest list between the two of you,” he said. “I have other things to do this morning. Miss Daniels is to have the afternoon off to call upon the Reverend Bellow’s sister, is she not? It would be a pity for you to be confined alone to the house on such a fine, warm day, Char. I will come home for luncheon and then take you out with me, shall I?”

“With you, Jasper?” She beamed at him, her complaints about the frustrations of her age instantly forgotten.

“The young Earl of Merton is a friend of mine even though he has only just come down from Oxford and has not quite reached his majority,” he said. “He is a cousin of Con Huxtable’s. His sisters have recently joined him here in town. They grew up in the country as daughters of a clergyman before Merton inherited the title. They are both older than you, but their friendship would certainly do you no harm at all. They are, in fact, just the sort of slightly older, more established members of society Miss Daniels just spoke of. We will perhaps call upon them at home this afternoon. I have an acquaintance with them, and I believe you will like them.”

“Oh, Jasper,” she said. “I will look forward to it ever so much. I will be with you. I could not possibly be happier.”

Sometimes he felt uncomfortably unworthy of such unconditional worship. That was especially true today, for of course he had an ulterior motive in the planned visit-and the planned house party-despite the fact that he really did believe the Huxtable sisters would be kind to Charlotte and would not look askance at being called upon by someone so young.

“Charlotte,” Miss Daniels said, setting her napkin down beside her plate and getting to her feet, “we had better go up to your sitting room and put our heads together over this list. How many guests are there to be, Lord Montford?”

“A dozen?” he suggested. “Five dozen? As many as the rooms at Cedarhurst will hold? As many as you and Charlotte can persuade to come?”

“Carte blanche, in other words?” She smiled at him. “I believe we can make do with carte blanche, can we not, Charlotte?”

“Oh, this is going to be the best birthday ever,” Charlotte said as she followed her companion from the room. “And you are the best of brothers, Jasper, and I love you.” She hugged him about the neck and planted a noisy kiss on his brow as she passed his chair.

Before next Season was out, he thought ruefully as the door closed behind them, her thoughts were going to be stuffed full of beaux, and Jasper was going to be relegated to the role of rather dull elder brother. But those beaux had better be worthy of her, by thunder!

He hoped the Huxtable sisters would be at home this afternoon.

He drummed his fingertips on the table, pursed his lips, and stared off into the middle distance.

She still used the same soap for washing her hair. He had noticed that last evening as soon as he started to waltz with her. He had not realized before how powerful the sense of smell could be in evoking memories. Not all of them unpleasant, strangely enough.

He had better stop woolgathering, he decided, and take himself off to White’s to read the morning papers and find some congenial companionship to fill in the rest of the morning hours. He had already looked through the post and decided which invitations to accept and which to reject. He had set aside the fortnightly report from Cedarhurst to read later.

Before he could rise from the table, however, and follow his sister and Miss Daniels from the room, his butler arrived on the scene, a card on a silver platter in his hand and a look of open disapproval on his face.

“The gentleman hopes to see you immediately, my lord,” he said as Jasper took the card from the tray. “Or sooner. His exact words, m’lord.”

Jasper was given no chance to read who it was who had such an urgent need to see him. The visitor did not wait in the hall to be properly admitted. He strode into the breakfast parlor almost on the butler’s heels.

Jasper raised one eloquent eyebrow.

“Clarrie!” he said with heavy irony. He did not get to his feet. “This is an unexpected pleasure. Come in and make yourself at home. No need to stand upon ceremony here.”

Clarence Forester-Sir Clarence since the demise of his father eighteen months or so ago-hated almost more than anything else in the world to be called Clarrie. Hence Jasper had never called him anything else all their lives. He was Aunt Prunella’s beloved only son, Charlotte’s cousin, and a weasel of the first order. Jasper noted his expanding girth and thinning fair hair and florid complexion. It had been a while since he had seen the man. He was not maturing well though he could not be a day older than twenty-five.

“My dear mama and I arrived in town yesterday,” Clarence explained, eyeing an empty chair as though he thought it might collapse beneath him if he sat on it and then lowering himself onto another. “We came with all the speed we could muster as soon as we heard.”

“All the way from Kent?” Jasper asked. “Pour Sir Clarrie some coffee, if you will be so good, Horton. He looks in dire need of sustenance. Sprang your horses, did you, old boy? That was rash of you. Sprung horses have a tendency to become lame horses if they do not have very skilled hands at the ribbons.”

“Sir Clarence, that is,” Clarence said pointedly in the direction of Horton. “And bring me some porter instead.”

Jasper nodded when Horton looked his way.

“We have heard,” Clarence said, leaning back while his glass of porter was being set down in front of him, “though I am sure you will correct me if we heard wrongly as we surely must have done, Jasper. We have heard that you have brought Cousin Charlotte to London.”

Jasper looked politely at him.

“All of which goes to prove,” he said agreeably, “that your ears are in fine working order, Clarrie. Were you worried about them?”

“She is here, then?” Clarence asked.

“Body and soul,” Jasper agreed. “Mind too, I daresay. Charlotte is nobody’s genius, but Miss Daniels has educated her as well as she is able, and she is an admirable woman. They have even visited a few token galleries and museums together since coming here. I have been vastly impressed.”

Clarence drew an audible breath and swelled alarmingly. There was a thin mustache of porter on his upper lip. It made him look slightly rakish.

“It is true, then,” he said. “I hoped desperately that it was not. So did Mama. She said so all the way here in the carriage. ‘I do hope, Clarence,’ she said a dozen times if she said it at all, ‘that this is a wild-goose chase we are on, unlikely as it seems when Jasper is involved.’ I have been forced to believe a number of painful and wicked things about you in the past number of years, Jasper, try as I have to be charitable toward a man who is my uncle’s stepson. I know he was as fond of you as if you had been his own flesh and blood even if you did try his patience almost every day of your life. But this beats all. This puts you beyond the pale. This merits a visit to my great-uncle Wrayburn, much as I hesitate to disturb the peace of the old gentleman. Mama is prostrate with distress.”

“That must be uncomfortable for her,” Jasper said, folding his napkin and setting it beside his plate. “Perhaps if you were to prop up her head with some pillows, Clarrie? Or her feet? Or both? Do you have enough pillows?”

Dash it all-Aunt Prunella in town. And Clarrie. Two for the price of one. Charlotte would be wishing she had stayed at Cedarhurst. Especially as they were after her blood. No, correction-it was his blood they were after.

“Your tone of levity does you no credit, Jasper,” Clarence told him. “It never did. Uncle, alas, trusted that you would grow up given time. I knew you never would.”

“It is always an enormous satisfaction, is it not,” Jasper said lazily, “to be proved right? Especially when it is something nasty that one has predicted. If it is nasty to accuse me of being an eternal boy, that is. Perhaps you meant it as a compliment? As a suggestion that I have discovered the fountain of youth, perhaps? I shall choose to take your words as a compliment, old boy, and thank you from the bottom of my heart. You had better refill Sir Clarrie’s glass, Horton. It is dry.”

“Sir Clarence,” Clarence said through his teeth. “You must know, Jasper, that it is quite shockingly unseemly to bring a young girl to town when she has not yet made her come-out. It is enough to give any high-stickler heart palpitations and a fit of the vapors, and Mama is the highest of sticklers.”

“You had better not let Charlotte hear you refer to her as a girl, Clarrie,” Jasper said kindly, “especially a young girl. She considers herself a young lady now-with good reason, I might add. But you and your mama might decide with some relief that you have indeed been dashing after a wild goose. When you ask around, as you surely will, you will discover that Charlotte has not been seen at any ton events or done anything else that is remotely inappropriate to her age and circumstances. I may know no better, old chap-you are quite right about that-but Miss Daniels certainly does. I would warn you not to try taking her to task for any imagined improprieties. She is to be a clergyman’s bride before Christmas, and the Reverend Bellow may take it into his head to excommunicate you or some such unfortunate thing if you offend her. It is true that he is the most amiable, mild-mannered of gentlemen, but there is no saying what effect an insult to his beloved might have upon him. I would not wish to put the matter to the test myself.”

Clarence dashed the back of his hand over his mouth, obliterating the rakish mustache.

“You make a joke of everything, Jasper,” he said. “Charlotte is of impeccable lineage, and she is a considerable heiress. It is quite imperative that she not be seen in public until after she has made her curtsy to the queen next year. You have quite recklessly flouted the terms of Uncle’s will. I am here to see that you do not continue to do so. Great-Uncle Wrayburn will see to it also once I have had a word with him.”

“You will give him my regards when you call?” Jasper said pleasantly.

Throughout the visit he had been wondering why Charlotte’s aunt and cousin had suddenly exerted themselves on her behalf when they had not done so anytime during the past ten years since the death of her father or even the last five since the death of her mother. The greatest interest Lady Forester had ever shown in her niece was a lengthy letter twice a year-at Christmas and on her birthday-to admonish her to be good and virtuous and to listen to her governess more than to anyone else in her life. Jasper, the implication had always been, was the anyone else in her life.

He thought he understood now, though. Clarence had mentioned that one telling detail about Charlotte’s being a considerable heiress. And come to think of it, she had read out one passage of her aunt’s letter last Christmas-the paragraph in which Lady Forester had mentioned hearing from dear Rachel and had proceeded to assure Charlotte that if her sister would not bring her out after her eighteenth birthday, she most certainly would. Indeed, it was something she had always intended, something Charlotte’s dear papa had always intended if her mama should happen to be deceased when the time came. In the same paragraph she had mentioned that dear Clarence was eagerly looking forward to becoming reacquainted with his cousin and that he was now a fine figure of a young man and quite ready to settle down once he had met a lady worthy of him.

Charlotte had made Jasper promise that she would never be turned over to her aunt and cousin, whom she disliked almost as much as he did.

The trouble was that although Jasper was Baron Montford and always had been, his father having predeceased his birth by one month, and although he was owner of Cedarhurst Park, where his mother and her second husband had lived until both their deaths and where Charlotte had always lived, and although he was Charlotte’s half brother and closest male relative-despite all those facts in his favor, he was not in fact her sole guardian. His mother’s second husband had neither liked nor trusted him, and while he had bowed to his wife’s persuasions sufficiently to name Jasper in his will as one of Charlotte’s guardians until her fortune became her own either at her twenty-first birthday or on her wedding day, whichever came first, he had also insisted upon naming two other gentlemen as joint guardians-his own uncle, Seth Wrayburn, and his brother-in-law, Sir Charles Forester. Clarence had inherited one third of the joint guardianship on his father’s death.

All of which meant that any two of the guardians could outvote the third on any matter concerning Charlotte’s life and well-being.

Jasper had always taken comfort from the fact that Seth Wrayburn, an elderly, indolent hermit, had never once shown even an ounce of interest in either Charlotte or Clarence or indeed any of his family. Or in Jasper himself for that matter.

“Mama,” Clarence said now, “is quite prepared to sacrifice her time and energy and independence in order to give Charlotte the respectable home she needs and the proper preparations for her come-out that she suspects are being sorely neglected. It is something I daresay you are prepared to agree to, Jasper, since you must wish what is best for your half sister. I will forgo my visit to Great-Uncle Seth if you will agree to relinquish her into my care and Mama’s tomorrow. One does not wish for any dissension among her guardians, after all, and I daresay you will be glad to be free of the responsibility. What do you say?”

He attempted to look jocular, and merely looked ridiculous instead.

Jasper had the very nasty suspicion that the worthy lady Clarence was supposedly looking for was going to be Charlotte. She was his first cousin, it was true, and a union between them would be distasteful even if not illegal. She was also very rich-and Clarence’s father had liked to play deep at the tables but had lacked either skill or luck. What he had probably not lacked at his death was debts.

Jasper’s brow was creased in thought, and Clarence’s manner became almost sprightly.

“I can see no flaw in your argument, I must confess, Clarrie,” Jasper said. “Except that I do indeed wish what is best for Charlotte and quite fail to see how I might fulfill that wish by relinquishing her into your care and your mama’s. Forgive me if I am being dense. Perhaps Wrayburn will understand better. Perhaps you had better pay him that call after all, old chap. I do not doubt he will be delighted to see you. In the meanwhile I find myself unable to sit here exchanging pleasantries with you any longer, despite the fact that you are my almost-relative. Are you ever thankful for the small mercy inherent in that almost, Clarrie, as I am? I have to be busy this morning.”

“Boxing at Jackson’s or looking over horseflesh at Tattersall’s, I suppose,” Clarence said scornfully.

“Dear me,” Jasper said, getting to his feet, “nothing so strenuous, Clarrie. Spare me, old chap. I daresay we will see you and your mama within the next few days though I must warn you-with regret-that we plan to be from home on that particular day.”

“I did not name a day,” Clarence pointed out.

“Ah,” Jasper said, “did you not? We plan to be from home that day anyway. You found your own way in, old chap. Be so good as to find it again on the way out, will you? It is so very tedious to have to walk all the way to the front door merely to see a guest off the premises when it is so much easier to proceed immediately upstairs.”

He inclined his head courteously and preceded Clarence from the room. He went up the stairs without looking back.

The nonchalance of his movements was not quite matched by the grimness of his thoughts, though.

Seth Wrayburn was an unknown quantity. He always had been.

One could only hope that he would recognize a prize ass when he saw one-even if that ass was his great-nephew.