Seven Nights of Sin: Seven Sensuous Stories by Bestselling Historical Romance Authors Read online

  The gentlemen who sought him out weren’t averse to believing the worst, but tonight they were like hungry sparrow hawks, hoping for any crumb of wisdom that Eaglestone might throw them. Such hypocrisy.

  She gained her knowledge of the viscount from reading her father’s broadsheets and her mother’s scandal sheets and tidbits when she pressed an ear to the door while the men drank port after dinner. Bella had also taken the bold step of writing to Eaglestone’s private secretary, inquiring as to the viscount’s philanthropic interests. It had taken some digging to discover he supported several worthy causes, which was another surprising thing about him. As she’d expected, the secretary had politely fobbed her off, but the hope remained that her letter had piqued Eaglestone’s interest.

  Amid the nonsense the gossipmongers spread, one fact remained unchallenged. The man was a rake. A rake was precisely what she required, a decidedly wealthy one. Bella intended to do two things before her marriage to the man her father had chosen for her: to persuade a man of means to support her charity and to make love with a rake, in no particular order, but it seemed practical to obtain both from the same man. Before she married Maudling.

  The ghastly thought of what marriage to the earl would be like cast her into deep gloom.

  “That’s an unhappy face on one so comely.”

  Bella rearranged her features into a smile. “Merely a brief thought.”

  “Is there something I might do to improve your thoughts?”

  He’d already helped, just by standing there. Why had she thought his eyes stony? Right at this moment, they seemed lit by an inner fire and kindled a corresponding warmth in her. The man’s essence should be bottled and sold to lonely women. Bella took control of her rampaging thoughts. “How very kind of you, sir, and not at all necessary I assure you. I have the matter in hand.”

  Bella’s gaze dropped to his hands, large and long fingered. What he might accomplish with them on her body caused her to inhale sharply. She must get a grip on herself. She firmed her mouth when his gaze settled there.

  “Then I’m glad.” He nodded and moved away.

  He was being polite; she’d failed to capture his interest. She fingered her fan and sighed, wishing she were more practiced at flirting. She would have to learn the art very smartly indeed.

  After supper, the men remained at the table with their port while the ladies drank coffee in the drawing room. The conversation soon settled on household matters: where to find the best staff and how to deal with a difficult governess. As there were no other young women present tonight, Bella quickly grew bored. She wished she could join the men who were guffawing at some joke in the dining room, where cigar smoke wafted out.

  She tapped her fingers on the arm of the chair. How could she manage to get Lord Eaglestone alone?

  Her mother eyed her. “You are fidgeting, Bella.”

  “It’s hot and stuffy in here, Mama.”

  “I don’t find it so. I hope you’re not sickening for something.”

  Bella was most definitely. “It’s the cigar smoke. I’ll feel better if I get some fresh air.”

  “I’ll come with you.”

  As her mother began to rise, Mrs. Burdon asked her if she had a good recipe for cockle sauce, as her efforts were always disappointing. “The addition of tarragon vinegar makes all the difference,” her mother said, sinking back into her chair.

  Blissfully alone, Bella slipped through the French doors onto the deserted terrace. She leaned against the cool stone balustrade and took grateful breaths of humid, fragrant air. Louring clouds in the early evening sky heralded rain. Applying her fan, she discovered the source of the scent to be fat pink roses climbing a trellis.

  The cosseted Belgrade garden faded into the twilight. A widowed peer, Lord Maudling was positioned at the top of her father’s list of future husbands for her. Alarmingly, it had now become a list of one, as other possible candidates faded away or had fallen into disfavor with the vagaries of life, the ’Change, death, taxes, and the like. Maudling was wealthy, his country estate known to be one of the finest in Surrey. There was the added attraction of their more modest property adjoining his on the eastern boundary. And due to her mother’s illness, of which she had now blessedly recovered, Bella had missed several seasons and had scant opportunity to meet possible suitors.

  Her father was determined to marry her into the aristocracy. He’d rejected the few men who’d showed an interest in her. Twenty years her elder, at forty-two, Maudling greyed at the temples and was known for a cold fish. A nasty story had it that his wife died to escape the boredom.

  Bella shook her head. Was it fair to hold a man such as Lord Maudling in high esteem just because he purported to be a stalwart supporter of the church and a sober stickler for convention, when he merely lacked the vigor to be otherwise? And there was Lord Eaglestone, a bon vi’vant with a great passion for life, who had purportedly left dozens of women in a swoon. One should applaud the energy of such a man.

  Bella reached over the balustrade to pick a vibrant rose but couldn’t quite reach it.

  A waft of citrus cologne drifted in the air as a hand, attached to a crisp, white cuff and dark, superfine sleeve, plucked the rose.

  Lord Eaglestone handed the bloom to her with a small bow. “I have a moment to learn more about your charity, Miss Lacey. If you will be so good,” he said in his husky voice, a voice that had graced many bedrooms, Bella thought with another delightful shiver.

  “Thank you, my lord. I am most eager to do so.” She held the rose to her nose, resting her back against the stone balustrade and launched into the description she’d used with bank managers and possible creditors—producing more amusement than interest in her orphaned children and the orphanage’s desperate need of capital. Hartnoll House wasn’t exactly an orphanage, more a small group of homeless children she’d rescued off the streets and sheltered in a house her grandfather had bequeathed her. He’d planned to help her but had passed away before much could be accomplished. He’d left her enough money to employ a housekeeper and a maid and keep the children well fed. There was so much more to be done. If unable to find each of them a loving home, she did want to teach them skills to keep them out of the workhouse.

  Eaglestone listened without interruption. His expression, for all his ready charm, seemed guarded, with no softness in that chin, which might have been chiseled for a marble statue. His eyes held a glimmer of alert intelligence as she described the inadequate bedding, the rats in the cellar that resisted all efforts to remove them, and the money needed to repair the leaking roof. She paused and waited for a response, a positive one she hoped.

  “Most certainly a worthy cause,” he observed without actually committing himself.

  “A very worthy cause, my lord,” she repeated emphatically. She spoke fulsomely of the children. She knew each child so well it required little effort and allowed her to retain her focus on the job at hand: to convince this man to invest in something that offered no return other than one of goodwill. In her mind, she ran over the details she’d been able to gather about him that she might employ to better persuade him. Some chink in his armor. He’d been orphaned at an early age, and his estate had been left in the hands of an uncle who stripped his inheritance to the bone before the young lord gained his majority. Once Lord Eaglestone had control of his fortune, however, he’d quadrupled his wealth in a stunningly short time.

  A random thought struck her. Eaglestone’s lack of maternal love in those tender years might account for his rakishness and why, at thirty-three, he hadn’t married.

  “Where is this orphanage of yours, Miss Lacey?”

  “Cheapside, my lord.” She’d almost missed his question. She’d been picturing him as a small boy without anyone to love him, much like one of her lonely orphans.

  Bella twirled the rose in her fingers. She must proceed with caution. Keep everything on a business footing. This was not the moment to show her hand. She sensed he would prefer to chase his p
rey. And she felt very much like prey as his sharp gaze took in every inch of her while he leaned with casual grace against the rail beside her.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “ARE YOU COLD, MISS LACEY? Shall I fetch your shawl?”

  She shook her head. “It’s quite warm tonight.”

  Derrick wondered, again, why he was here. He had firm rules. Don’t be tempted to marry, seduce virgins, or bed other men’s wives. He’d broken that last one when Lady Darley had found her way into his bed after he’d imbibed too much brandy at a house party. Her enraged husband had called him out for pistols at dawn. Standing there in the Darley’s park, as a cold sun rose over the chestnuts, he’d been sorry for the poor cuckolded fellow and deloped, lowering his gun without firing. He’d offered Darley a shot, knowing the man couldn’t hit a bull at ten paces, but Darley had still been three parts drunk from the previous evening, and had fortified himself with more drink from a flask, before he stumbled and shot himself in the thigh. Impossible to quell the gossip after that. Derrick considered these experiences only made him stronger and able to resist any temptation that might complicate his life.

  Yet here he was. And here she was, dressed in a candy-striped gown, which displayed a cleavage that would fill a monk with lust. Miss Lacey was as he remembered her, a perfect English rose. Her beauty outshone the flower she held. She set him in mind of something sweet. Something to be nibbled on. Slowly.

  “You look quite delicious in that pink dress, Miss Lacey, against the backdrop of roses.”

  Her delicately arched brows rose. “So fulsome a compliment, my lord.”

  “I thought it agreeably descriptive.”

  “The word delicious was somewhat overblown.”

  He raised a brow. “You dislike my choice of adjective?”

  She shook her head, sternly, causing glossy fair curls to bob against her satiny cheek. “I believe we were discussing my charity.”

  Her letter had intended to bring them together. No question about it. Her stiff defensiveness made him struggle not to grin, and he tamped down the desire to tease her. “I apologize if my compliment offends. I suffer no aspirations to become a bard.”

  She lowered her lashes, but not before he caught the appreciative gleam in her big, blue eyes. “I believe that’s wise, my lord.”

  This was proving far more diverting than a predictable flirtation. “You object to a man complimenting you?” he continued, determined to draw her out.

  “Not if it’s tasteful.”

  He bowed. “Then I shall leave you. I will most likely fail again very soon when you inspire me to utter further overblown compliments.”

  As he turned, she touched his arm. His threat had the desired effect. Miss Lacey was not done with him yet.

  “Please don’t go, my lord. I’m sorry if I appeared rude. I would like to tell you more about Hartnoll House, if I may.”

  “More about your charity?” He raised a brow. “I believe I’ve heard enough.”

  She inhaled deeply and her bosom swelled above the low neckline of her gown. His fingers itched. “You’ve decided against it then, sir?”

  “I might consider it.” What was he about? He was besieged with appeals for money every day, and the best he could wish for from the virginal Miss Lacey was a light flirtation, although even that seemed an outside chance.

  “I would be most grateful.” An attractive flush of warmth spread over her cheeks. She was a beguiling young woman, with an admirable cause by the sound of it, which even his hardened heart responded to.

  How grateful would she be? A kiss or two, a brief tryst. Kissing those sweet, cherry-pink lips could make the time well spent. “You consider your gratitude to be enough to persuade me, Miss Lacey?”

  Her blue eyes grew anxious. “This is not a money-making venture,” she said, sounding breathless. “I want to make that clear. If you will just call to meet the children, I’m sure you will see….”

  How charming she was when flustered, doubt deepening her blue eyes to violet. He wasn’t interested in deflowering a virgin. As delightful as making love to her might be, it would prove a threat to his freedom. Still, she was very pretty, and her gratitude might make the trip worthwhile. No reason they couldn’t enjoy each other without taking it too far. His gaze settled on her rosy mouth. For her not to be kissed thoroughly and often would be a crime.

  “Then I shall view this Hartnoll House of yours,” he said. “And I find myself free this week. Your personal tour if you will.”

  ***

  He’d taken a step closer. Was it desire that flickered in his eyes? Breathing in, she caught a whiff of his cologne and something elusive. His very maleness. Her cheeks flooded with warmth at the way he looked at her, and she struggled to organize her thoughts. Her plan had been to meet Eaglestone when her parents were away attending a wedding, but that wasn’t for several weeks. Bella cleared her throat.

  “I’m not sure that I can…if you’ll call, my housekeeper will take you through and furnish you with the ledgers. We can discuss it at a later time.”

  He had moved so close to her she could feel the heat of his body. She was unsure how to proceed. Heavens, her thighs trembled. She’d intended to keep control of this conversation, but she was no match for this cool, sophisticated man. She was already out of her depth. Had she made a mistake in choosing him? If he did come through with the money, however… She could not afford to let this go. Although she’d never visited the orphanage alone, she would have to arrange it somehow.

  Her decision made, Bella strengthened her resolve. “I believe you shall gain much from helping those less fortunate—a wonderful sense of satisfaction, as well as your peers regarding you in a good light.”

  He gave a brittle laugh and his eyes narrowed. “My peers? You think I care for that?”

  “Everyone wishes to be respected, to be liked, surely?”

  “Some care too much for society’s opinion.”

  “Perhaps some care too little.”

  He frowned at her. Had she gone too far?

  “As I said, I am happy to call and view your orphanage, Miss Lacey,” he said, his voice cool. “When you are free to take me on a tour.”

  It would be unwise to let the matter go on too long. He would lose interest. She’d set this in motion and couldn’t believe her good luck. She must not lose her courage now and let a small hiccup like her parents stop her. Rubbing the bare skin above her elbow, cool in the short-sleeved dress, she realized by her shiver she was concerned more with the second part of her plan. To lie in this man’s arms.

  “You are cold. Let’s return inside.”

  She glanced uneasily through the French windows to where the guests milled about in the drawing room. She’d forgotten all about them. Her conversation with such a man would hardly fail to go unnoticed.

  “I appreciate you giving me your valuable time, sir. I shall be pleased to show you Hartnoll House.” She took his proffered arm, and they strolled across the terrace. “I did write to your secretary, but his reply gave me little reason to hope you’d be willing to consider my proposal.”

  He smiled. “I get many such proposals, Miss Lacey.”

  “I imagine so.” She wondered if he’d seen her letter. Was it ridiculous to hope he’d come tonight because of it?

  “What made you write to me? My reputation for philanthropy is not widely known.”

  He had her there. “Something I saw in you at our last meeting,” she said, aware of how lame that sounded.

  He stopped, raising his brows. “You found that quality in me during our one dance at Lady Byrne’s ball?”

  “Your good business sense made you an attractive prospect, sir.”

  “Ah. Now I understand.” Dense dark lashes hid his expression. “I’m not used to being assessed in such a cool manner, not by a lady in any event, Miss Lacey.”

  She didn’t believe that for a moment. Women would attempt to entice him into their beds, and many would want to marry him.

/>   He offered her his arm again, and they continued to the door. “I shall call for you tomorrow morning.”

  “Thank you but unnecessary.” She must find a way to forestall her mother, who always accompanied her. “Shall we meet there at, say, half past eleven?”

  “Twelve would be better, Miss Lacey.”

  She thought quickly. If her mother had a morning engagement, she’d be gone from the house by then. It gave Bella little time, as she would have to be home by two o’clock for luncheon. “I shall see you at twelve, sir.” She reached into the tiny reticule dangling from her wrist and handed him her card with the address of the orphanage printed in silver lettering and, in case he discovered a prior engagement, gathered up her skirts and hurried inside.

  As expected, her father drew her aside, none too pleased. “I was about to fetch you! You spent far too long a time on the terrace with that bounder, Bella! Lord Maudling commented on it.”

  Bella tried to hide her glee. Perhaps Maudling would consider her a flirt and decide not to offer for her after all.

  “Lord Eaglestone has shown some interest in supporting my charity.”

  “That ridiculous charity of yours. You know how distasteful I find it when you immerse yourself in matters beneath your station. Your mother’s illness has allowed you to run rampant. Now that she is blessedly restored to good health, things must change.”

  “You know my charity is important to me, Father.” She raised her chin. “Grandfather supported me. He bequeathed Hartnoll House to me for this very purpose.”

  “I’ve watched your inheritance evaporate. A most appalling waste. Your grandfather must have lost his mind. The property is not worth a penny.”

  She hated disappointing him but was equally determined to continue. “I cannot turn my back on those who are less fortunate than I.” She wished she could scoop up every orphan in London.

  If she’d hoped to shame him into agreeing with her, she’d failed. He merely lifted an eyebrow. “You’ll find a world of unfortunates out there, my dear girl. We cannot help them all without becoming destitute ourselves.”