Soul of Sin (Scandalous Scions Book 2) Page 4

  “Lady Innesford,” Elisa said, as they reached Natasha. “May I present to you a recent acquaintance? Morven, Lady Tachbrook of Scotland.”

  Natasha nodded at her. “Charmed, I’m sure,” she said stiffly.

  Lady Tachbrook’s blue eyes met hers, as Elisa completed the introduction; “Lady Tachbrook, this is Lady Natasha, Countess of Innesford, Baroness Harrow.”

  Lady Tachbrook nodded her head. It was a gracious inclination that displayed the masses of black curls pinned up at the back of her head. “It is a great pleasure to meet you, Lady Innesford,” she said. There was no hint of brogue in her voice and she had a lovely lilting way of speaking. “I have heard for many years about how beautiful you were. I see now that the gossip was accurate, for a change.”

  Natasha stared at her, startled. “I…er…thank you,” she said inadequately. “How is it we’ve not met before now? I thought I knew everyone.”

  “I have been secluded near Inverness for many years,” Lady Tachbrook replied. “I lost my husband when I was young. I heard of your husband’s passing, too. I am very sorry.”

  Natasha drew in a breath and held it, keeping her reaction to the mention of Seth hidden. Then she relaxed and exhaled. “Thank you.”

  Elisa rested her hand on Natasha’s shoulder for a moment. “Lady Gaddesby, who just introduced Lady Tachbrook to the Princess and I, wanted you to know that Lady Tachbrook has occupied herself with good deeds and charity work recently.” Elisa’s mouth turned down in a tiny grimace. She was acknowledging her regret for forcing Natasha to meet the woman.

  Lady Tachbrook also wrinkled her nose. “Really, if you do not mind, call me Morven. I feel I must apologize for Lady Gaddesby’s enthusiasm. She has thrust me upon society, because of some small successes I had building a fund for children in Inverness. She is rather…” Lady Tachbrook hesitated.

  “Insistent?” Elisa suggested delicately.

  “Bulldogs wilt before Mary Gaddesby,” Annalies said, speaking in a voice that was not meant to carry.

  Natasha felt her eyes widen. So did Lady Tachbrook’s.

  Suddenly, all four of them were laughing.

  One of the enclosure staff brought over a fourth stool at Elisa’s gesture. The three women sat down to watch the race, for the competitors were coming into view. Lady Tachbrook—Morven—took the stool on Natasha’s left and arranged her hems so the merest tip of her shoe showed beneath.

  Natasha glanced at the woman. She had not a single thread out of place. Her dress was modest, becoming and completely appropriate for a woman her age, which appeared to be close to Natasha’s. There was nothing about the woman that Natasha could criticize or dismiss.

  Add to that her charming apology for the Orphan Society event and it was hard to maintain the dislike Natasha had formed based purely on the lady’s reputation as put forth by Lady Gaddesby.

  Everyone in the enclosure, including Morven, was staring at the river, watching the rowers fight it out for the lead. Shouts of encouragement and cheers sounded, although the volume was a mere racket now. As the race drew to the finish it would become deafening.

  Natasha took the moment of distraction to lean closer to Annalies and murmur, “Burke’s?”

  Annalies didn’t look at her. She kept her gaze on the river, instead, and clapped her encouragement. Underneath her clapping, she murmured, “Morven Annette Fortescue, wife of Baronet Tachbrook. He died twenty-one years ago. No heir.”

  Natasha turned her gaze to the river once more. So, Morven Fortescue had been widowed a very long time.

  The shouting and cries from the spectators in the enclosure shifted to notes of alarm and dismay. Natasha got to her feet, her attention turned fully upon the race.

  One of the spectator craft had floated out too far into the middle of the river. The racing team heading toward them had their backs to the prow of their boat and had no idea there was an obstruction on the course. The women in the drifting dinghy were standing up, screaming in panic, while the men tried to paddle out of the way with their hands and a third reached uselessly for the drifting oars.

  The sound the crowd was making was one of combined warning and alarm. Surely the racing crew could hear them?

  Natasha drew in a sharp breath as the narrow nose of the racing boat slammed into the dinghy, with a crunch and splinter of wood. The dinghy shivered in the water and everyone in it was jolted backwards. One of the women windmilled her arms and screamed as she toppled back into the water with a loud splash. Natasha thought it might be Lady Emily Dacre, the youngest daughter of Viscount Dacre.

  Her companion was a gentleman. He tore off his jacket and instantly dived into the water after her.

  The racing crew’s boat was sinking. Oars floated everywhere and three of the four-man crew were already in the water. The fourth gripped the gunwales of the dinghy, trying heroically to prevent it from floating farther out into the river, into the path of the other rowing teams. The dinghy was far heavier than he, though, and the river flowed strongly here. He was pulled from the sinking row boat and was forced to let the dinghy go to save himself.

  A second competing boat rammed into the dinghy, tossing another passenger, a man, into the river. It also collided with the oar of the fourth crewman from the first boat. As he was still holding onto the oar, it pushed him into the water with a yell.

  Everyone watching fell silent, waiting for everyone to surface.

  Heads popped back up. Natasha counted quickly. Everyone was there, including the fourth oarsman. They all began swimming for the shore and the crowd clapped and cheered, relieved that no one was injured. There was some laughter spattered among the clapping. A moment’s entertainment in amongst the races was always appreciated.

  Many hands reached out to help the swimmers back onto shore. They stepped onto the banks, streaming water and smiling, mostly.

  “They’re coming this way,” Morven said.

  “There are changing cubicles at the back of the enclosure,” Annalies said.

  All the soaked swimmers were making their way through the crowd that gathered around them to congratulate them on surviving the contretemps. Their shoulders were clapped and their hands were shaken. They were all bedraggled, their wet clothing clinging heavily to them.

  Natasha thought it might be fun to be dunked into the water. It would certainly be a fast way to cool off!

  The fourth oarsman came into view. He was making slow going of it, because so many people were stopping him to chat. His head was turned as he spoke. Just as the others did, the man’s clothing clung to him. Natasha’s heart gave a little squeeze, for this man wore no undershirt beneath his shirt. He had removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves to row, just as all the rowers did and now the wet cotton molded itself against his chest. He had thick arms and powerful chest muscles. The clear silhouette narrowed down to a tight waist and hips. The soaked pants were wrapped around powerful thighs.

  Something stirred, low in Natasha’s belly. She held still, barely daring to breathe, as she realized she was responding to the sight of a man’s body. She had never felt this stirring for any man but Seth. She remembered it well. The aching need had been absent for four years.

  Now she was feeling it in response to the sight of a stranger.

  She squeezed her legs together under her skirts, trying to deny her wantonness. She dismissed it, refusing to acknowledge the heavy tingling.

  “Why, that’s Raymond, isn’t it?” Annalies asked.

  Natasha’s chest locked and her throat closed down, as the man she had been ogling turned his head back to continue on toward the cubicles.

  It was Raymond. He had been laughing as he talked and the smile was still on his face. Ben must have convinced him to row, after all.

  Then his eyes met hers and his smile faded.

  Natasha didn’t know what to do. She felt exposed by his gaze, as if he could see, as no one else could, the way her body was reacting to the sight of him. Her breath came faster. Her he
art tottered at the impact of his gaze.

  For a moment, the roar of the people around them fell away. It was as if only the two of them were there. In the silence, she could hear her heart and her frantic breath and nothing else.

  Someone else thumped Raymond’s shoulder, diverting his attention, tearing his gaze from her. At the same time, Morven Fortescue’s elbow jostled Natasha, forcing her to clutch her stool to keep her balance.

  “I am so terribly sorry,” Morven said, grabbing her arm and helping her right herself. Then she swayed closer. “You were staring for far too long,” she whispered.

  Natasha looked at her, shocked, as she straightened her petticoats and dress.

  Morven gave her a small smile. “I should like you to come to tea tomorrow. I will be at home. May I invite you?”

  Shaken, Natasha could think of no suitably polite reason to refuse. She nodded, unable to speak.

  Morven got to her feet. “I should return to Lady Gaddesby. I bid you good afternoon Princess Annalies, Lady Farleigh, Lady Innesford.”

  Annalies and Elisa made polite farewell comments, while Natasha could barely bring her thoughts together. She kept her head down, staring at the rows of pin tucks above the pleats of her dress, trying to recover quickly so no one else would suspect what had happened to her.

  Her cheeks burned hot. She had been lusting for a man! And that man had been Raymond! How could she? It was so utterly inappropriate. It might even be sinful. How could she feel that way about the son of her best friend?

  Sick fright was replacing the depraved ache she had been feeling. She was a wicked woman. A terrible one. How could she blight Seth’s memory this way?

  “She seems as though she is a very nice woman,” Annalies observed.

  “She is certainly very pretty. Her face is creamy, did you notice?”

  “Pretty, yes, but not nearly as beautiful as Natasha,” Annalies said stoutly, the loyal friend.

  “They say the Scottish sun is kinder to ladies’ faces. It seems it must be true. And she is very polite. Not one slip with our ranks, did you notice?”

  Their chatter and their observations went on. They either had not noticed her distress, or had and were giving her time to recover. If they truly knew why she was distressed they would be appalled. Raymond was Elisa’s son…oh, how could she possibly have felt anything at all?

  Yet she had. Even before she had known who it was, Natasha had felt the yearning in her to be held, to be petted and stroked. A thousand such intimate moments with Seth had flashed through her mind, as she had hungrily skimmed her gaze over Raymond’s body.

  Seth had never let her get away with false coyness and she made herself face the truth now. She had lusted after a man. Yes, coincidentally, it had been a man she knew and that was unfortunate. Yet the whispering of women in private parlors, Annalies’ own more shocking reviews of some of the books she liked to read, even Elisa and Vaughn’s extended illicit collection of titles…they all admitted a woman could feel such urges. Some of them even argued that the urge to mate was a natural thing, and experiencing pleasure in the act was not just the province of whores.

  Natasha drew in a deep breath, trying to relax. Her nausea eased and her heart slowed. She had felt a natural urge, she repeated to herself. No one had to know about it. She had no intention of acting upon it. It was the act that would make her sinful, not the impulse.

  Elisa touched her wrist. “I’m told they will be serving ice cream in the luncheon tent. Shall we get some?”

  “Oh, ice cream! I’ve never tasted anything so wonderful,” Annalies said. “Yes, please, can we?”

  Natasha let her two friends pull her onto her feet and link arms with her, glad they could not see into her mind, for they would recoil and draw away from her if they could.

  * * * * *

  Lilly hesitated at the door into the great library, for there were others already occupying the room. Will and Jack and Peter were all Elisa’s sons, even though Will was the only natural born son and heir. Jack had been fostered by Elisa and Vaughn since he was a small child and Peter was adopted. All three of them, though, were mischief-makers supreme—even Peter, who at fifteen was four years younger than Will and Jack.

  “I didn’t know anyone was home,” Lilly said awkwardly. She had rather counted on the library being deserted.

  Jack sat up from his lounging in the button back club chair and put his feet on the ground. “The racing at Hedley was halted early because someone had the lack of sense to sink a couple of boats.” His heavy brows came together. “Damned inconvenient, if you ask me.”

  “Jack,” Will said, his tone warning. He had propped himself against the reading table. He nodded his blond head toward Lilly.

  “Sorry, Lilly.”

  “Was anyone hurt?” Lilly asked.

  “Not a soul,” Will said lightly. “Were you looking for a book for your lessons?”

  “Actually I was looking for Burke’s Peerage.”

  All three of them paused to look at her, including Peter, perched high up on the ladder, his fine hair falling over his gray eyes.

  “Why would you be wanting Burke’s, Miss Lilly?” Jack crooned.

  Her back stiffened. “Not for the reason you think,” she said stiffly.

  “Not hunting for a husband, then?”

  She could feel her face heating. “Absolutely not.”

  “Why is that, anyway?” Peter asked. His voice was still high, only Lilly suspected that wouldn’t last for long. His shoulders were filling out and his legs had always been long. He was going to be a tall man. “Doesn’t every lady want a good marriage?”

  Will looked up at him. “It’s not that simple.” He looked at Lilly. “Although he has a good question. Why did you agree to be governess for Mother?”

  Her throat seemed to close over and squeeze. Lilly swallowed. “I will tell you why I want Burke’s, if you agree not to tell anyone else,” she said quickly, hoping it would deflect them.

  “A secret?” Jack said.

  Even Will looked interested.

  Peter climbed down the ladder.

  Lilly glanced over her shoulder. There was no one there. “I overheard Aunt Elisa and Mother and Aunt Anna talking in the garden one day. Do you remember, when it was very hot?”

  All three of them nodded.

  “They were talking about Raymond. I could hear it all through my bedroom window.”

  Jack rolled his eyes. “I thought you said it was a secret. You think we don’t know everything about big brother Raymond?”

  “Or made sure we found out?” Peter said, with a grin.

  “Then you know he’s been in secretly in love with a woman called Susanna for years and years?”

  Silence.

  Jack’s gaze slid toward Will.

  Will swiveled and pulled down the heavy volume from the shelf behind him. “Burke’s. Last year’s edition. If she’s a peer, she’ll be in there.” He dumped it on the reading table.

  Lilly closed the library door and moved over to stand behind Will and watch over his shoulder as he turned the pages.

  So did Jack and Peter.

  * * * * *

  An hour later, they were staring defeat in the face. “Not a single Susanna,” Jack said, disgusted, turning away.

  “How many peers are there, anyway? Does Burke’s have all of them?” Will asked.

  “Most of them, I believe,” Lilly said. “Aunt Annalies was right. Susanna isn’t in it. She might be a commoner after all.”

  “That would explain why Raymond didn’t marry her, wouldn’t it?” Jack said, pouring two sherries from the decanter.

  “Sherry, Jack?” Will said, astonished.

  “It’s past four,” Jack pointed out. He handed Will the second glass. Will took it with a grin.

  “Peers can marry commoners,” Will said. “Look at Uncle Rhys.”

  “He’s a very uncommon commoner,” Jack said. He settled back in his club chair and put his legs over the arm. �
��Wasn’t there a rumor at Cambridge? About Raymond and some mystery lady?”

  Will crossed his arms. “Yes, I do recall that. I thought it was all a bit of nonsense made up because Raymond would never let himself been seen with anyone.”

  “Very private chap,” Jack said in agreement. “Peter, give it up, lad. You won’t find her in there.”

  Peter ran his finger down the page slowly, scanning each entry. “I just want to make sure,” he said softly.

  Lilly sighed. “Well, thank you,” she told the boys. “Remember, this stays between us, yes?”

  “Absolutely,” Will assured her.

  “Certainly,” Jack added, raising his glass toward her.

  Lilly left them in the library and made her way back upstairs. She was uneasy about trying to pry loose Raymond’s secret when, nearly a year ago, he had convinced her that to do so would be ruinous for the woman and perhaps for him, too. Surely, though, if Mother and Aunt Elisa and Aunt Anna were investigating, then it would be permissible for her to search, as well?

  She just wanted to make sure Raymond wasn’t driving himself into a deep and dark hole, as she had done. That was all. She was doing it for Raymond.

  Chapter Four

  Mulloy shook Natasha’s shoulder. “I’m sorry to disturb you, my Lady. Lord Marblethorpe is in the drawing room, insisting upon seeing you.”

  “I’m not at home,” Natasha said, keeping her head on the pillow. She was glad of the blankets and coverings that hid the way her heart jumped, and possibly hiding that her cheeks were turning pink, too. He was here!

  “Corcoran told his lordship you were not at home, my lady, only he is still insisting. He said he would come up here and break down your door if you did not come downstairs. Corcoran thought it best I let you know rather than try to turn Lord Raymond away himself.”

  Natasha thought of elderly Corcoran trying to manhandle Raymond. She had a feeling Raymond would not put up with anyone trying to force him to do anything he did not want to do. It was wrong to leave Corcoran alone to deal with him.

  Tiredly, she sat up.

  Mulloy stepped back. “Shall I get you a wrapper, my lady?”