The Seduction, page 5
"That is the story, although, I must confess, I rather doubt it myself. In my opinion, Lady Ashton is a vain and capricious flirt. But Geoffrey believed the affair to be genuine, and he cut off Trevor's income from the estate, which had been left in his care by their father. He also banished Trevor from the house and refused to recognize him in society. The whole matter caused quite a sensation, as you might expect, and Trevor left for Egypt."
Margaret opened her mouth to ask another question, but she saw Cornelia approaching and quickly rose to her feet. She didn't want to give her matchmaking cousin any ideas. "This has been very interesting," she murmured, "but I really must be going."
She remembered to give the duchess a curtsy before turning away. She rushed past Cornelia and crossed the terrace to enter the villa.
Cornelia watched her cousin depart, then she turned to the duchess. "I couldn't help overhearing some of your conversation. She's been asking about Ashton?"
"Of course. Doesn't she always ask about her potential suitors?"
"Only so she can find reason to dismiss them," Cornelia said. She sank into the chair vacated by her cousin. "I wonder, do you really think he could be the right man for Margaret?" she asked with a thoughtful frown.
"I'm beginning to think no man is the right man for Margaret," the duchess answered dryly. Cornelia was inclined to agree with her.
***
Henry signed his name to the contract with a flourish and set it aside. Across the desk, Edward shook his head. "Are you sure about this? Refrigeration is an awfully new idea."
"You're so conservative, Edward," Henry said with fondness. "Sometimes it's necessary to try new ideas."
"I know, but the idea of chilled beer appalls me."
Henry laughed, but before he could point out all the lucrative opportunities refrigeration could bring, a knock on the door interrupted him. It opened and Lord Ashton took a step into the study. "Forgive me for imposing," he said, "but I'm preparing to leave, and I wanted to thank you, Mr. Van Alden, for your hospitality."
Henry beckoned the other man into the room. "Come in, Ashton. Your comments this morning about income from industry as opposed to land rents has intrigued me. I'm wondering if you might be able to postpone your journey home? I have a business proposition that I think might interest you. Something that may entail some risk, but very lucrative if it succeeds."
"Indeed? You've intrigued me, Mr. Van Alden," Trevor answered in surprise.
"That was my intention."
"I can't postpone my journey home for very long, I'm afraid, but I'd like to hear what you have in mind."
"Excellent. My daughter and my niece are going to a dinner party this evening with the other female guests, so we will be taking that opportunity for a poker game. You and I can talk business afterward. Dinner is at seven o'clock, then poker and brandy in the card room."
Trevor nodded and left, closing the door behind him.
Edward studied Henry in puzzlement. "You want to discuss business with Trevor?"
Instead of answering, Henry toyed with the quill in his hands for a moment. "Tell me a bit more about him, about his character. What sort of man is he?"
The other man considered the question. "I think highly of him. He's shrewd. He has determination and strength of will. He's the sort of man that other men like. The ladies," Edward added with a hint of envy, "also find him quite charming."
"What about his business acumen?"
"It's too bad about his finances, of course. Trevor has ingenuity, but I think that when it comes to his estate, he's fighting a losing battle."
"Would you have confidence in dealing with him, then?"
Edward hesitated, then said, "Yes, although I think he's sometimes a bit too cocky for his own good. He's a gambler, a risk-taker."
"Tsk, tsk," Henry said, laughing. "Sounds a bit like me in my youth."
"Perhaps. What are you planning, Henry? To go into business with him?"
"Possibly. But I'm really considering him as a possible son-in-law."
"What?" Edward stared at him in astonishment. "They only met this morning. Don't you think you're being a bit premature to consider him as a son-in-law?"
Henry shrugged. "For months, I've allowed Cornelia to take the discreet and proper approach, hoping Margaret would find a man who suited her, but that hasn't worked at all. I'm afraid my daughter may end up an old maid, or married to some dissolute fellow with no background or breeding. I think a more purposeful strategy is needed."
"What do you mean?"
"I'm going to suggest to Ashton straight out that he marry Margaret."
"You're joking!"
"Not at all. Ashton's in need of money. We both know that. He's got the background to give Margaret respectability, which you know I want for her and her children. I also think he'd make Margaret an excellent husband. Certainly, he's the best candidate I've seen so far. At least he's willing to earn his living."
"You don't even know him."
"But I do agree with your assessment of him. I also know Margaret won't be able to walk all over him. And she's not indifferent to him. You saw her at breakfast this morning. I think it's the perfect solution all the way around."
"Really, Henry!" Edward frowned. "You can't move people around like stocks on the Exchange!"
"You needn't look so shocked. Arranged marriages happen all the time. I think Ashton would appreciate the soundness of the idea. He seems a practical man."
"I dare say," Edward acknowledged doubtfully, "but he is not a marrying man. Besides, I wasn't talking about Trevor. I don't think Margaret would care a fig for the practicality of it. And she certainly won't like having her marriage arranged for her as if it's a business venture."
Henry grinned. "You're probably right. But my daughter is too stubborn for her own good, and always convinced she's right."
"Quite so. She reminds me of her father." Henry laughed, not at all perturbed by that comment.
***
While Henry was making attempts to arrange Margaret's matrimonial future, the subject of his schemes was comfortably ensconced beneath her favorite tree, a picnic basket beside her and a book in her hand.
It was quite a scandalous novel, and banned almost everywhere. It had taken her months to obtain a copy. She took a chocolate from the box beside her and nibbled it as she turned the page, her eyes widening with each word she read. The man was actually undressing the woman.
She devoured chocolates and chapters until her sweet tooth was satisfied and the story was finished. She closed the book, but the erotic scenes she'd read were still vivid in her imagination. She had no idea people actually did things like that, and felt that way while they were doing it. She pressed her hands to her flushed cheeks. "Oh, my," she whispered. "Oh, my."
Flustered, she set the book aside. Impossible, she thought, leaning back against the tree. Nobody would really do those things. They'd die of embarrassment first. Or die laughing.
And yet, no one could make up things like that, could they? She considered the possibility for quite some time, listening to the drone of bees and the rustle of leaves in the warm breeze. If he were the right man, she thought dreamily, a man who loved you, then perhaps.
She slowly closed her eyes. If you were in love with the man, it would be all right. It might even be wonderful. She drifted off to sleep, an image of one man's dark blue eyes in her mind.
Something woke her. It was a fly, buzzing quite close to her ear, and she brushed it away. Then she opened her eyes and found the intensely blue ones she'd been dreaming of staring back at her over the top of a book. Her book.
Lord Ashton was sitting only a few feet away. She stiffened, instantly awake and on the defensive. For the second time in as many days, this man had invaded her privacy and spied on her. He knew things about her she wouldn't tell her closest friends. Margaret didn't like the power that gave him.
"Your taste in literature intrigues me, Miss Van Alden," he said, popping one of her chocolates into his mouth. After swallowing it, he added, "And your father makes fabulous truffles."
She leaned forward to snatch the book from him. But he held the novel above his head, out of her reach. He gave her a smile that dared her to climb across his lap to retrieve her property, and she didn't know whether to kill him or crawl under the nearest rock. She settled for a fierce scowl. "I thought you left."
"Your father has graciously invited me to stay a few more days."
She'd been right, then. He was just another suitor, titled and probably broke, who wanted a rich American heiress to save his precious estates. But when she looked into the amused blue eyes watching her, she felt a momentary doubt. If that was his intention, he wasn't playing his part very well. Suitors in search of a rich wife were gracious and scrupulously polite, and this man was not. But Margaret trusted her own instincts. Perhaps his approach was simply unique, his manner bolder than that of his predecessors. Still, she'd always found cool disdain to be the best defense against fortune hunters.
"I hope you enjoy your stay," she said with frigid politeness, then held out her hand imperiously. "Now, I'm sure it's nearly tea time and I really must be going. I would appreciate it if you would return my property."
"Certainly." But instead of handing the book to her, he reached inside his jacket and pulled her gold hair comb from the pocket. "I came looking for you in order to return this. You dropped it last night."
That reference to the embarrassing incident in the garden set her cheeks burning again, and she felt certain he enjoyed watching her squirm like a butterfly on a pin. She snatched the comb from him and dropped it into her basket. "I meant," she said through clenched teeth, "my book."
"Ah, yes. The book." He leaned forward and handed the book to her. "I found it interesting reading," he said, "but rather too fanciful."
She did not want to engage in a literary discussion with this man, particularly about this book. But she thought of the passages she had read and couldn't help being curious about his odd description. "Fanciful?" she asked, trying to sound completely uninterested in his opinion.
He shrugged. "Although it seems quite erotic when you read it in a novel, the truth is that making love in a carriage is quite uncomfortable."
"Really?" she asked, her resolution to be coldly indifferent momentarily diverted by that interesting piece of information. "How would you—" She caught herself, noticing a teasing glimmer in his eyes. She dropped the book into her basket, then glared at him. "Do you enjoy embarrassing me?"
"Why are you embarrassed? Because I've caught you reading an erotic novel? I don't tell tales out of school, so it's our secret. And you don't really care what I think, do you?"
"No, I don't."
"Good. Then perhaps we can be friends."
Friends? So that was to be his technique, was it? She smiled, pleased that she had finally figured him out. She put the lid back on her box of candy, dropped the box into her basket, and rose to her feet. "That certainly is a unique approach, Lord Ashton, but I'm afraid you are wasting your time."
He stood up, giving her a puzzled look. "Wasting my time?"
He was good at dissembling. Very good, indeed. "I'm sure there are many heiresses who would fall for such a gambit," she said, "but I am not one of them. So if you are looking to marry a fortune, you will need to look farther afield. I have no interest in marrying you."
"Thank you for telling me," he said gravely, but the teasing gleam in his eyes remained. "When I am forced to chain myself to the married state, I'll bear that in mind. But all I suggested was friendship."
"After the discourteous way you have behaved toward me, you expect us to be friends?" She stared at him in disbelief. "Why?"
"I like you."
"Indeed? That is a pity." She looked him squarely in the eye. "I don't like you."
She stepped around him. His amused laughter followed her as she walked away, and Margaret had the uneasy feeling that she was not going to be rid of him so easily.
***
Edward handed Trevor a brandy and they settled into two of the comfortable leather chairs in the card room. They were awaiting Henry, who was in his study dictating correspondence to his secretary, Alistair Marston.
"So, my friend." Edward took a sip of brandy and eyed Trevor thoughtfully. "After all the excitement of Egypt, won't England seem a bit tame?"
"I'll find ways to amuse myself, I assure you."
"I should imagine. You've always liked adventure. I remember all the scrapes you managed to get me into when we were at school."
"I refuse to take the blame. You took as much pleasure in our escapades as I did."
"I must admit you are right." Edward laughed. "I remember one incident in particular. The night we snuck into your brother's room at Cambridge and pasted all the pages of his textbooks together. God, he was furious."
Trevor smiled at the memory. "Geoffrey never did have a sense of humor."
"Yes, well, it was a good thing old Walston didn't believe his accusation that we were responsible."
"He couldn't prove anything, so of course the headmaster didn't believe him."
"And you had already arranged a suitable alibi for us, as I recall. You are too clever by half." He sighed pleasurably. "Those were halcyon days indeed."
Trevor lifted his glass. "Who says they are over? I'm sure we could engage in some wild escapades while I'm here."
But Edward shook his head. "No, no. Those days are over for me."
"You've been married less than a year. Has it changed you so much?"
"I doubt Cornelia would look favorably upon any escapades you and I would be likely to engage in. The Egyptian artifacts business is bad enough, but coming home drunk at four o'clock in the morning would displease Cornelia immensely." He took a swallow of brandy and added, "And I can tell you it is never wise to incur your wife's displeasure."
"True enough. You might be deprived of matrimony's only benefit."
The cynicism of that comment startled Edward. "That isn't it at all," he protested. "You know that if I wanted other feminine companionship I could easily find it. But I don't want it."
"And you never look at another woman," Trevor answered with gravity, but there was a hint of mockery in his voice.
Edward refused to be perturbed by it. "Of course I look," he said, laughing. "But that is all. My wife is the only woman I truly want."
"Really, Edward! You talk as if you're actually in love with your own wife."
“I am.”
Trevor studied his friend's face and knew he was in earnest. He felt a stab of pity for him. "What a wretched state of affairs. It's a situation in which you can never win."
"Marriage is not a game to be won or lost, Trevor. There will always be vexation and grief, of course, but marriage can also make a man quite happy." He shook his head sadly. "You've always had the worst possible opinion of marriage. I cannot help but wonder why."
"Is there any reason why I should have a good opinion of it?" he countered in a hard voice. "Among our mutual acquaintance, I can think of no one who would recommend the married state as a way to make one happy."
"I can recommend it highly. It has given me much joy."
Trevor could have pointed out that Edward had been married so short a time that the novelty had not yet worn off. But he merely shrugged. "If you say so."
"God, Trevor, you needn't sound as if marriage is a fate worse than death. It isn't, you know. You must marry, and you may find it surprisingly pleasant. Believe me when I say it could make a different man of you."
"Why should I wish to be a different man? I am quite content being the man that I am, and I see no reason why I should want to change." He took a swallow of brandy and added, "It is true that duty will eventually force me to marry, but it will not change either my lifestyle or my temperament, I assure you. And it will certainly not make me any less of a realist."
Edward started to speak, obviously intending to debate the point, but Henry and his secretary entered the room at that moment, and he let the subject drop. Trevor was heartily glad of it, for he thought the idea of being transformed by love was unworthy of discussion between intelligent and rational men.
"You two have successfully divided the spoils of the evening between you," Alistair said with admiration as he looked from Trevor to Henry. It was quite late, and both men had been playing poker with Alistair and Edward most of the evening. Trevor had six hundred pounds more than he'd started with. It was unfortunate that poker could not be counted on as a means of earning a living.
"Too bad Hymes wasn't here," Henry said with a chuckle. "Trevor and I would have made even more. Nice enough fellow, excellent at whist, quite good at baccarat. But can't play poker worth a damn."
The mention of the name caught Trevor's attention. "Hymes?"
"Lord Hymes," Edward explained. "Viscount with estates in Durham. You may know him."
Trevor thought of the viscount on his knees the night before, making an utter ass of himself, and he smiled. In a manner of speaking, he supposed he did know Hymes. But he admitted nothing.
"What happened to the fellow anyway?" Edward asked. "I came down this morning and Giuseppe told me he'd ordered a carriage brought round and left at sunrise without a word to anyone. Not even a note."
"Really?" Trevor lit a cigar and blew three smoke rings toward the ceiling in rapid succession. His smile widened. "Awfully rude of him, I'd say."
Henry shrugged. "Well, I can't say I blame him. I understand from my niece that he proposed marriage to my daughter last night and she refused him. Only fitting he should leave, I suppose. Damned awkward if he didn't."
Trevor wondered if Margaret had told Lady Kettering about his role in the events of last night. He rather doubted it.
Edward yawned, then shoved back his chair and stood up. "I think it's time to find my pillow."
"Are you sure?" Trevor asked. "The ladies have returned from their dinner party, remember. Cornelia's bound to be awake, waiting for you so that she can ask how you did and lecture you about how much you've lost."
