Page 8 of The Gentleman's Seduction
“But…” His eyes fixed on her mouth. “I’m quite certain you will succumb to my charms in time. I have never left a lover unsatisfied.” The smug way he said this made her bite her tongue to avoid saying what she really felt. There wasnothinghe could do that would convince her to like him, let alone bed him, no matter how attractive he was. This was a business transaction. If he chose to take the high road and not force himself upon her, then she would think better of him when this nightmare was over. Nothing more.
The coach stopped at a townhouse on Park Lane. Mr. Banks exited the coach first and held out a hand for her. She raised her chin in defiance and braced herself on the door of the coach.
He huffed in open displeasure. “Don’t be silly.” He gripped her by the waist and pulled her out. She gasped as he easily lifted her up and set her back on the ground. She trembled as their bodies pressed flush against one another. She’d never been this close to a strange man before. It was thrilling and exciting, yet she didn’twantto be close to him. He was a wretched man, albeit a handsome one.
She inwardly chided herself for letting his looks distract her. There were no excuses for his behavior. Still, she couldn’t forget what he’d said her father had done. She loved her father, despite knowing he’d tossed this man into the streets and led his mother to an early death.
If I can forgive my father, perhaps I can learn to at least tolerate this man.Her body was more than willing to tolerate him. She felt like a silly girl barely out of the schoolroom, ready to swoon over his handsome looks, and she despised that part of herself that was so inexplicably drawn to him.
“Please, let me go.” She only added the wordpleaseto appear more complacent. He might have gotten her to agree to be his mistress, but she would not be fearful.
Banks held her a few long seconds more and then released her. He turned to face the house and walked up the steps. A butler opened the door for him, and the two men talked briefly, the butler casting a look her way before Martin went inside without so much as a backward glance toward her. A footman came down the steps and took her valise, then rushed back inside.
Livvy stared up at the fine Palladian façade of the place she would be staying for however long Banks wanted her.
I hope he tires of me sooner rather than later. If he did, she could go home. Home to her own life, even though it would be tarnished by scandal once London learned she’d gone from innocent debutante to a fallen woman. She didn’t want to think about the scandal that would come if anyone learned she lived with him at his residence rather than be tucked away in a love nest in another part of London.
She lifted her skirts and walked up the steps into her new home. Her throat tightened, and she tried not to cry. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing any weakness. As she entered the house, she came face-to-face with a genial-looking man named Mr. Harris, who introduced himself as the butler.
“If you need anything, you need only notify me or Mrs. Wilson, the housekeeper,” he said. “The master has informed me that you will require a lady’s maid. Mellie, one of our best upstairs maids, will attend you.”
“Thank you.” She glanced around the entryway, but Mr. Banks was already gone. She relaxed a little. Perhaps he would leave her alone tonight. She could only hope so. She had no interest in seeing his “charms” tonight.
“May I escort you to your chambers, Miss Hartwell?”
“Yes, thank you.” She followed the butler to the second floor. He opened the door to the first room at the top of the stairs. Livvy’s breath caught in her throat. The room was decorated in an Egyptian style. The bed frame had hieroglyphics carved into the mahogany wood, and hand-painted motifs of water lilies and lotus flowers covered the walls. The vanity table had sphinxes for legs and sat close to a large bay window. Rich blue muslin curtains hung over the bed from the canopy, and a matching coverlet was embroidered with lions, serpents, sphinxes, and crocodiles.
“Oh my…” She breathed out the words, stunned by the exquisite furnishings and the extravagant decorations. Anyone who slept in this room would dream she was Cleopatra awaiting a visit from her lover Julius Caesar. For a brief instant, her mind was filled with images of her lying upon the bed in scandalous Egyptian dress and a man standing above her, removing a bronze chest plate to reveal an equally chiseled chest—a man who looked like Banks. Flushing with heat from the burst of erotic imagination, she turned away from Mr. Harris.
“Is the room suitable?” he asked.
“Yes.” She cleared her throat. “Quite sufficient.”
“There’s a bell cord by the bed. Please ring if you need anything.” Harris’s eyes were warm and kind, and a hint of pity lingered there as though he knew she was not there because she wished to be. She couldn’t help but wonder if she wasn’t the first woman he’d blackmailed to stay here.
“Thank you, Mr. Harris. Would it be too much trouble to ask for some tea and biscuits? I’m famished.”
“Of course.” He bowed and waited for the footman to enter before he departed. The young man set her valise on the bed.
“Shall I unpack for you, miss or do you wish to wait for a maid?” he offered politely.
“Oh no, I can see to it. But thank you.” She didn’t want him to see her torn and mended stockings or the faded fabrics of her dresses. Shame squeezed her throat. If she had to wear her modest clothes, he and the rest of the house would see how unfit she was to be in a house such as this, but she wanted to delay that moment as long as possible.
“Very well. Good night, miss.” The footman left her alone, and she opened her traveling case. The sight of her book was welcome.
She picked it up and clutched it to her chest. “My only friend.”
“Your only friend?” She whirled to face Mr. Banks, who now stood in the doorway, leaning against the jamb. The lamps from the hall outside her room silhouetted him. It intensified his dominating air, and she shivered, stepping backward. She bumped into the bed behind her and froze when she realized she could not retreat without climbing onto the bed.
“You say your only friend is a book? How dreadful.” He pushed away from the door. He could not have been watching her for long, but he had overheard her whisper to herself. “It must be some book to be clutched so protectively against your bosom. Let me see it.”
He held out his hand. For a moment Livvy feared he would rip it from her and cast it into the fireplace.
“I won’t take it from you. You deserve some comforts while you are here. I have an extensive library down the hall at your disposal.” He held out his hand. “May I?”
With a shaky breath, Livvy handed him the novel. He examined the spine and gave a low chuckle.
“A Gothic novel? You know, I’ve never read one of these. I always thought them to be rather silly.”
