CHAPTER FOUR
First, Lettice had to calm down. It took a good long while, but she couldn’t send an erotic dream whilst in a state of fury. Preferably, she should feel no emotion at all. She sat in bed against the banked pillows and conjured up a vision of herself and Lord Hadrian together, alone in a bedchamber. She called to mind his intelligent blue eyes, his dark, slightly unruly hair, his broad shoulders and humorous smile.
Humorous? Not at all. It was a sneaky, lying, counterfeit smile, to which she’d reacted favorably, fool that she was. Rage twisted inside her once more.
She tamped it down and tried again. It didn’t matter so much what he was like as her effect on him. She’d sent dreams to plenty of sneaks and liars in the past. She visualized him again, this time ignoring his appealing attributes, and concentrated on seeing herself as lush and irresistible, drawing him toward her with hunger in her eyes. No, no! It was supposed to be hunger for his lust, not an urge to kill him.
How strange—she’d never harbored murderous feelings toward the traitors to whom she’d sent dreams. She’d merely wanted to get her part of the job done and let the other branches of espionage take care of the rest.
She tried once more, settling at last on an imaginary Lord Hadrian, as if the kind, compassionate man he pretended to be was the real one. This was much, much easier, if rather sad, because she quite liked the imaginary version. The dream flew willingly into the night, and she sensed its unerring flight to Lord Hadrian’s bed.
Relieved, she lay down to sleep. It was then that she noticed the tiny flickers of desire within herself. Startled and annoyed, she snuffed them; desire was a rare occurrence, and she certainly didn’t want to feel it for a real man.
Oh, but it was the imaginary Lord Hadrian who had awakened what little desire she was capable of, not the real one. Relieved, she burrowed under the coverlet and slept.
~ * ~
Hadrian went to bed with a bad taste in his mouth, more determined than ever to make his father suffer a little before leaving Staves Court. What a pity his departure wouldn’t cause a scandal, since nobody kept track of how much time Hadrian spent at the ancestral home.
He dreamed of Lettice Raleigh, but a far different Lettice from the one who worked in the muniment room. For one thing, she smiled at him. He yearned to taste those lushly rosy lips. For another thing, she wanted him in the most carnal way. Lust shone in her dark, beguiling eyes. He woke with an erection and a strong temptation to bring himself to climax whilst remembering the dream and imagining what might have happened next.
He didn’t, though, for two reasons: one, because it went against the grain to encourage such thoughts of an abandoned woman, and two, because it felt disrespectful of her. That these reasons contradicted each other didn’t affect the validity of either one.
He went down to breakfast next morning, served himself a plate of eggs and kidneys, and took a seat beside Miss Raleigh, who as usual was being bored by old Flinders. At the other end of the table, his father droned on about estate affairs to Gentry. His mother and Miss Devoe had not yet come downstairs.
Lettice turned to him with a hint of a smile on those ripe, lovely lips. “Good morning, Lord Hadrian. I trust you slept well.”
“Very well, thank you,” he said automatically, and then flushed as he recalled the dream. “And you?” he asked, hurriedly salting his eggs.
“As well as can be expected in this chilly house,” she cooed. “I simply couldn’t get warm.”
Hadrian blinked. She had never cooed before.
“Unsurprising,” said the Marquis of Staves. “Weakness of character and constitution go hand in hand.”
Hadrian was about to retort—the more he annoyed his father, the better–but then he had a more entertaining idea. “Precisely, which is why I intend to look for some sea holly today.”
Her eyes widened, and that smile still teased at her mouth. “Sea holly? Whatever for?”
In the vivid flesh, her lips were even more entrancing than in his dream. “Loath as I am to admit to any accompanying character flaws, I do suffer from a weak constitution,” Hadrian said.
She narrowed her eyes at him. He didn’t blame her, for he was perfectly hale and hearty.
“What the devil are you talking about?” the marquis demanded. “There’s nothing wrong with your constitution.”
“No?” Hadrian stifled a grin. “You’ve always said I lack manly vigor.”
“Nonsense,” his father said predictably. No one but he was permitted to criticize his progeny. “All my sons excel in—” He stopped, as Lord Valiant, that most potent of the potent, instantly came to everyone’s mind—even Miss Raleigh’s, judging by the twitch of her lips.
Lord Gentry snickered. The marquis turned on him, snarling. “Quiet, you!”
“Perhaps the family’s share of manly vigor was dealt out unevenly by the Almighty,” Hadrian said. “Val certainly makes up for my lack of it.” Not only had Lord Valiant been disinherited and banned from Staves Court forever for debauching an innocent whilst still at Eton, but he had also made a point of flaunting his shocking reputation.
Had he bedded Lettice Raleigh? It seemed possible, as they were known to be friends. What a distasteful notion, and yet Hadrian could hardly blame him if he had.
Another advantage of leaving Staves: Hadrian would be able to associate openly with Val once again, although it would mean forcing Gentry, who had very little courage, to handle communication between Val and their mother. Clandestine correspondence had been tolerable during the war years, which Val had spent spying on the Continent, but he’d been back in England for over a year now.
Lord Staves purpled. One of these days his rage would result in an apoplectic fit. “How dare you mention his name in this house?” he shouted. “He is dead to this family! Dead, do you hear?”
“But not to his new wife, one hopes,” Hadrian said. Gentry stifled a laugh, then cringed at his father’s snarl of rage. Hadrian had never understood his elder brother’s abject obedience, especially now that they were all adults.
“Now, now, Lord Hadrian, don’t agitate your father,” Miss Raleigh said with that same faint smile. She was cooing again. He should dislike it. He should certainly disapprove, but it had the opposite effect on his cock.
Surely she hadn’t developed an interest in him. That would make the next several days abominably awkward. He was adept at fending off unwanted advances, but something about Lettice Raleigh was different from other women.
She smiled more widely, a twinkle in her dark eyes. “You are perfectly correct about the restorative effects of sea holly. I always have a supply of the candied root ready to hand.” The tip of her tongue touched her upper lip. “It’s excellent for boosting a man’s…vigor.”
His was already boosting a little too well, thank you very much. Luckily, the tablecloth covered the evidence.
“I suppose you know all about that, Miss Raleigh,” Lord Staves said.
Hadrian didn’t. “Dash it all, Father—”
Miss Raleigh put a gentle hand on Hadrian’s arm. “My dear Lord Hadrian, pray don’t take his lordship’s comment amiss. I have indeed studied the effects of many remedies, so your estimable father is entirely correct.”
A tic appeared beside Lord Staves’ eye. His face reddened. His fist clenched about his fork.
With difficulty, Hadrian muffled a snort. “Then you’ll take a walk with me today and show me the sea holly plants?”
“I should be delighted.” She gave his arm a gentle squeeze. Her touch sent tingles down his spine that went straight to his already interested groin. “But not if it causes dear Lord Staves distress.”
The marquis kept his mouth shut but went white about the lips. For the first time ever, Hadrian witnessed his father controlling his temper.
He struggled not to laugh out loud. “Excellent, perhaps we can harvest some. I sense that I shall need some vigor very soon.”
~ * ~
If she hadn’t known it was all a ruse, Lettice might have been taken in by Lord Hadrian’s blatant response to her implied invitation. Oh, he was interested—any man would be—but he didn’t want to be.
Nor did she. She had never liked using her wiles before, but in spite of herself, she’d enjoyed flirting with him. Perhaps it was because most of the men she’d been ordered to beguile had been unappealing in a number of ways. Lord Hadrian was most definitely an attractive man.
The door opened, and Lady Staves drifted in, followed by Miss Devoe.”
“Good morning, everyone,” she said. “One of the grooms just brought in the mail.” Lord Staves remained put, but the other three gentlemen stood to greet the ladies, Lord Hadrian more slowly than the others. Lettice cast a furtive glance at his breeches. She had to credit him with quick thinking. His napkin, casually held in one hand, concealed the affected area.
Definitely not lacking in manly vigor—a good thing, since he probably knew as well as she that sea holly was harvested in the autumn. He wouldn’t get to prove his manliness to Lettice, though. She would take great pleasure in leading him absolutely nowhere.
Yes, she would enjoy turning the tables on him and his father, but she wished she understood him a little better. In one way, he was like all other men. An erotic dream, a look, a touch, and he was smitten; she knew the signs. And yet, why had he publicly aggravated his father by bringing up the subject of Lord Valiant? This seemed unlike the man who had connived with Lord Staves last night to further her ruin.
Lady Staves passed the Morning Post and a letter to her husband, before heading for the sideboard. The marquis broke the seal and read the missive, frowning. Lettice tensed.
“Another fool historian wants access to the archives,” the marquis said. “A dashed nuisance, but not surprising; our records are amongst the best, if not the best, in all England.”
“Indeed they are,” said Lord Hadrian. “Who is he?”
“Fellow named Pilgrim, writing from an inn in Tunbridge Wells. Never heard of him, needless to say, but he claims to be affiliated with Christ Church—our college in Oxford, you know. Every son of Staves goes there after Eton.” He shot a glower at Lord Hadrian as if daring him to mention the one son who hadn’t.
Duty bound, Lettice said, “I’ve heard of him. He has written some interesting papers on medieval banquets.”
“In the unlikely event that I want your opinion, Miss Raleigh, I shall ask for it,” Lord Staves retorted. “I shall direct my secretary to write to Christ Church. The fellow will just have to kick his heels in Tunbridge Wells until I get an answer.”
Lettice’s heart sank. Doubtless the Master of the Incubi had planned for this eventuality, but how long might she be stuck here? She didn’t know how much bad behavior she could summon whilst staving Lord Hadrian off. She’d become competent at luring men into sharing confidences during the war, but she’d always extricated herself before it was too late.
She would stick to her guns as she always had. If matters went too far, she would simply leave, in which case Mr. Pilgrim would have to do without her help. Relieved at having made a decision, she took a sip of coffee.
“I’ve heard of Mr. Pilgrim,” Lord Hadrian said.
Lettice choked, spewing coffee on both the tablecloth and her shawl.
“I haven’t met him, but I know of him,” Lord Hadrian said, blotting the tablecloth and passing a napkin to Lettice, who couldn’t stop coughing.
“Tell me. Get on with it,” said his father.
“He gave a presentation at the Antiquarian Society, but unfortunately I couldn’t attend. Bainbridge speaks highly of him, Father. Whiffy Bainbridge, you know—my old schoolfellow.”
“Is that so? Then I shall have to allow him access. Bainbridge’s father is a good friend of mine.”
Lord Hadrian took the coffee pot from his brother and refilled Lettice’s cup. “I can be ready in about an hour, if that suits you,” he said.
“Very well,” she said, casting a glance at him before taking refuge in her coffee. Lord Hadrian had indeed read the letter…but hadn’t mentioned it to his father, it seemed. Lord Staves might be playing a part, but she doubted it. He was barely containing his dislike of her, even to further his vile plot.
More important, why would Lord Hadrian pretend to know of a historian who didn’t exist?