Page 10 of The Gentleman's Seduction
“I am Lavinia, but please, call me Livvy.”
The maid blushed. “Well, I can’t, the master would be furious, Miss…”
“Hartwell. I would like you to call me Livvy when it’s just the two of us. I desperately need a friend.” Livvy held out one hand to Mellie. The maid seemed to be close to her in age and would be a welcome ally under the circumstances.
“Only when we are alone, Miss. I don’t want to be dismissed for too much familiarity,” Mellie whispered, leaning in conspiratorially. Then she grasped Livvy’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze before letting go.
“Now, let me help you undress. Then you can settle into bed and eat.” Mellie held up the single nightgown that Livvy had packed and brought with her.
Livvy sighed in relief as the maid helped her undress. “Thank you.”
Once she was dressed in her nightgown, she peeled back the sheets and climbed into bed. Mellie handed her the tray and put her book next to her.
“I’ll see you in the morning, Miss…er…Livvy.” Mellie grinned as she corrected herself. She left, closing the door behind her.
Livvy began to nibble on the cheese and cold cuts, then sipped her wine. She’d never eaten in bed before, at least not at night. There was something wonderfully indulgent about it. She reflected on how her father and mother were able to keep their house running, but she knew they were struggling. The year before, her father had invested their money in the silver mines in Cornwall, and the mining had recently been deemed a failure. Their income from the mines had shrunk with each passing month and would stop. Livvy hadn’t blamed her father, but she felt shaken now to be at a palatial home like this, enjoying dinner in bed while her parents could not.
But I am paying the price for it.
The delicious food turned bitter, but she finished it nonetheless and set the tray on the table close to the bed. She wasn’t so silly as to deny herself sustenance as she recalled her true purpose here. She reached for her book, turning to the first page, and settled in to read. It was important she find a way to distract herself from thinking about Banks…and the sinful way he kissed her.
4
Martin sat in a chair in the library, turning the pages of the book Lavinia had brought with her, but his mind was miles away. What on earth had possessed him to bring her home? Yes, he’d kept his other mistresses here, which he knew was unusual, but the daughter of his worst enemy? He should have kept her far away, some little cottage all alone to suffer. But she was lovely, and fiery, and…he didn’t want to let her out of his sight.
He’d wanted to destroy Hartwell, throw him out on his ear. But when Lavinia, a daughter he had not known existed, had rushed into the room, his heart had stopped in his chest. When he saw her pale creamy skin, hazel eyes that looked like chocolate coated with honey, and those pale pink lips parted in surprise, he had been lost. Lost in fantasies of kissing those lips, touching her skin and seeing those eyes flash with heat and desire as she lay beneath him in bed. Taking her away from Hartwell had been too bloody easy. And he knew with a cold-blooded delight that he wouldn’t even have to lay a finger on her to hurt Hartwell. The man would be beside himself with fear and worry, and that was enough for Martin.
The man was pathetic to let such a young girl fight his battles for him. Martin sobered suddenly as the past came flooding back. Helen, his twin, had once bravely defended him, had even fought a duel against her future husband to save Martin’s life. He’d been only twenty-one, just a foolish lad, but he had made too many mistakes.
A man should fight his own battles. If Hartwell was too much of a coward to do so, then Martin would continue to use Lavinia as payment. He had no intention of harming the girl, of course. She was sweet-tempered, and yet there was a fire in her eyes that he didn’t want to see extinguished.
He wished he could woo her into his bed. The villainous role he’d acted at Hartwell’s home was not the man he really was. He had come to his senses enough to remember that, even though she presented a temptation most men wouldn’t be able to resist. The kiss they’d shared tonight had proven she would respond to him. She hadn’t stood there unfeeling, nor had she fought him off. She had kissed him back. Was she living out some wicked fantasy with him that was inspired by one of her Gothic novels? If so, perhaps he could work it to his advantage.
His body hardened at the thought of where those future kisses would lead. He was an excellent lover, and while most men might say that only to boast, Martin knew it to be true. He’d spent years learning the art of seduction, of pleasing a woman before himself. There was an immense satisfaction in knowing that he could make any woman desire him and that he alone could fulfill their needs.
I will show Lavinia just how wonderful it can be.
He set the book down and rose from his chair. He had promised he would leave her alone tonight, but it wouldn’t hurt to make sure she had settled in, would it? He exited the library and made his way to her room. He could see a light on beneath her door, but he had sent her to bed three hours ago. Was she still awake? He tested the handle and found the door unlocked. He eased it open and peered into the bedchamber. A few candles were still burning low. Tiptoeing into the room, he blew out one candle, then stoked the fire and added several more logs. He couldn’t forget how cold Hartwell’s house had been, and he didn’t want Lavinia to be cold tonight.
He moved to the bed, where the last candle was still lit on a table beside the bed. Lavinia was fast asleep, her book still open to the third page. Martin carefully extracted the book from her hands, set it on the table, and gazed down at her. She looked so innocent, her hair unbound, her face softened in the shadows. Had he been that innocent at her age?
It seemed like a lifetime separated him from Lavinia, rather than ten years. Yet he knew she wasn’t a child. She was a grown woman, one he now hungered for. Yet rather than feel a desire to awaken her, a strange protective urge filled him. He couldn’t help but think what he would do had he been in her place, had he been able to offer himself in some way if he’d known it would have saved his mother’s life. He would have done exactly as Lavinia had. He tucked the bedclothes up to her chin, wanting to make sure she stayed warm enough. Then he brushed a stray lock of hair from her cheek before he bent, blew the candle out, and left her to sleep.
As he returned to his own bedchamber and allowed his valet to undress him, he gazed at himself in the mirror. A frown was upon his lips, one that had been there for ages. The fear he’d seen in Lavinia’s eyes had left him unsettled.
“Byrd,” he said as his valet undid the buttons on his cuffs.
“Yes, sir?” the man replied, head bent as he focused on his task.
“Do you find me imposing?”
Byrd glanced at him. “Imposing, sir?”
“Do I frighten you?”
Byrd tilted his head, his lips parted as he hesitated.
“Come now, Byrd. I’m not angry.” He paused, not wanting to sound like he cared overmuch, but just enough. “I was thinking of Miss Hartwell. I don’t wish to scare her now that she’s here.”
