The Price of Temptation Page 12

  “Did it? I met him, you know. Just a few times, but I’ll never forget him. He was filled with amazing zeal. Joy. Curiosity. Kindness. He died by accident, on a journey meant to expose his children to the history and culture of the Europe he loved. He lived his life well, without regrets, and I’ve no doubt by example made better men of countless acquaintances.”

  Stephen’s eyes spilled over at last, slow silent tears making tracks down his cheeks to drip from his jaw. He searched his pockets, not finding what he sought, and Jamie handed over his own handkerchief.

  In good time, he composed himself. “Anyway,” Stephen said, “could I have more tea?”

  Two days later, Stephen sat across from Jamie in the carriage on the way to Aunt Matilda’s, approving of the way his secretary looked in the blue jacket Charles had cut down to fit him. The young man’s excitement didn’t hurt, adding sparkle to his face. The December rain beat heavy on the carriage roof, causing Jamie to look up.

  “I can’t believe your aunt is having a picnic in her ballroom. Could she possibly have known it was going to rain?”

  The earl grinned. “A woman of her age doesn’t leave the fate of her parties up to God. Besides, it’s late in the year for dining out of doors.”

  “Is your—will Mr. Jeffries be there?”

  Stephen sobered. Julian had visited him yesterday, all smiles and cajolery, seeming to sense that he’d been out of order in some unfathomable manner on Saturday night. Somehow, he’d failed to invite the actor to today’s affair, despite a few broad hints Julian dropped that he’d heard something was in the works. He had yet to puzzle out the actor’s vicious words towards Jamie the other night, but it didn’t seem a good idea for the two to meet. And Aunt Matilda had been adamant that he bring his secretary along to the picnic. “No, I don’t think so. I forgot to mention it to him.”

  “Well, I’m glad I get to go. Although I would have been pleased to examine your aunt’s book without the bribe of attending one of her parties.”

  Stephen shook his head. “I can’t believe she thinks she might have bought a forgery. Imagine someone counterfeiting a book.”

  It was Jamie’s turn to grin, his kissable dimple as deep as Stephen had ever seen it. “We have established that they’re worth money, my lord.”

  “We’ve also established that you deserve a treat, so enjoy yourself.”

  Jamie stretched and settled himself against the upholstered seat. “As you wish, my lord.”

  Abby pulled the carriage up under the portico of Lady Matilda’s Mayfair mansion, and soon Jamie was looking around the ballroom in bemused wonder. There was a grove of living trees at one end, their twenty-foot tops easily accommodated by the vastness of the ceiling. The floor was carpeted with blocks of turf, cleverly fitted together to form a seamless green lawn, with low baskets of flowers placed here and there as if they were growing naturally. A line of mirrored tiles crossed the middle of the room to suggest a stream, complete with a rustic wooden bridge. While the trees contained live birds, imprisoned in wire mesh cages so fine as to be almost invisible; the badgers and foxes, thank heavens, were stuffed.

  “Do you like it?” Aunt Matilda’s smile held satisfaction.

  “It’s wonderful,” Jamie said. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “Must have cost a fortune.” Despite his own straitened circumstances, Stephen’s voice held only admiration, and Jamie liked him for it.

  “Hah.” Aunt Matilda snapped her fan closed. “Cost me almost nothing. I just happen to have set up a very-well-traveled gentleman with a few woolen mills, right before the war started. He still sends me gifts from time to time in gratitude—this time it was half a dozen live orchids from South America. I let Archibald’s Flowers and Landscaping talk me out of them in exchange for this fribble.”

  “Woolen mills?” Stephen didn’t get it.

  Jamie did. “Uniforms,” he said. “I’ve never seen an orchid. Were they lovely?”

  “Very,” she admitted. “Exotically beautiful. I almost built a greenhouse just so I could try to keep them alive myself. Quentin Lowry would have given me a good price on the glass, too, since I’m the one who sent him that émigré scientist a few years back.”

  Stephen looked interested. “I told you, I’m planning a greenhouse of my own. I don’t suppose Lowry would extend that discount to me?”

  “Oh, I think he might.” Aunt Matilda’s words were more encouraging than the glare she bestowed upon her great-nephew. “However, he knows enough about you to insist on a deposit up front.”

  Stephen grinned. “With Jamie’s help, I’ve been doing much better, Auntie. Do you have any idea the difference in price between wax and tallow candles?”

  “Of course I do, puppy.” Matilda extended her arm to Jamie. “Walk with me, young man. At least you look like a person of sense.”

  They began circling the ballroom, keeping to a flagstone path laid among the grass. Jamie tried to ignore the curious glances he received, but felt his color rise anyway.

  “Good afternoon, Lady Matilda.” One of the other guests was quick to intercept them, a middle-aged gentleman extravagantly dressed in powder-blue satin, with a damask waistcoat in a contrasting shade of cerise. “And who’s your young swain?”

  “This is Mr. Riley, the noted historian,” Matilda said. “He’s been consulting with Stephen about his library. Perhaps you read his paper on Roman tesserae?”

  “Of course, of course,” the gentleman said, nodding sagely. “Immigration is one of England’s gravest problems, isn’t it?”

  “It seems there are more fools on these shores every day. If you’ll excuse us, Lord Whinsbeck. If I stand still too long my joints lock up. Popinjay,” Aunt Matilda muttered under her breath as they strolled away. Jamie was hard pressed not to laugh. “All the great houses are declining, don’t you think?”

  “I wouldn’t know. I have little experience with the aristocracy.”

  She patted his arm. “Apart from being the grandson of a marquess, and in love with an earl, you mean.”

  Jamie’s breath left his body like he’d been punched. “How did you —? Why did you say that? No, don’t answer. Please don’t.”

  She ignored his plea. “I’ve outlived my own generation, boy, and most of Jack Carrington’s as well. I may be one of the few members of society left who remembers Carrington in his early twenties — you’re his spit and image.” Matilda studied Jamie’s face. “He grew into his looks, and so will you. Good bones tell in the end. And I remember your mother, as well. Lovely girl. You have her mouth. Whitby’s mistress, wasn’t she?”

  Jamie looked toward the door, escape on his mind. “She hoped people would have forgotten her.”

  “People did. I didn’t. What happened to her was a damned shame, and if I were you I’d hold the Carringtons responsible. I’ll help you, if you like. There’s money to be had there.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t want anything from them. It would make me sick to accept gold for my mother’s betrayal.”

  “Get off your high horse, son. Surely you don’t expect much blunt from my grand-nephew.”

  Jamie stopped, freeing himself from Aunt Matilda’s arm. “I’m sorry, my lady. I don’t know what you’re talking about, and if I did I wouldn’t discuss it with you.”

  “Nonsense. I saw the way you looked at Stephen—you’re arse over teakettle, aren’t you? And if you have any expectations in that direction, I’m the one in the family who holds the purse strings.”

  “I’m not in—” He couldn’t say it. “I don’t have any expectations. He likes me, and maybe even wants—but I can’t—there’s no future. I’m not his type.”

  “He’s a fool, then.”

  Jamie met her eyes. “Perhaps. Do you mind if I take my leave now?”

  Aunt Matilda smiled, grudgingly. “Yes, I do mind. You haven’t eaten yet, and you deserve some frivolous entertainment. But I’ll leave you alone if you like, as long as you promise to stay and mi
ngle. If Johnnie Carrington hadn’t been an ass, these would have been your people.”

  Jamie nodded. “I’ll stay. You won’t say anything to Stephen, will you?”

  “Nothing helpful. That pup has to learn to think for himself.”

  After the group had eaten, the checkered table cloths were removed from the indoor lawn, and a band began playing in a gallery above. Jamie sat with his back against a tree and watched the brightly-clad couples form a set on the grass for a country dance.

  “My, you do dress up well.” The voice was soft, and poisonous. “I remember when I picked out that coat for Stephen. But don’t worry—I doubt many people here will realize it’s a cast-off.”

  Jamie kept his eyes on the dancing. “Good day, Mr. Jeffries. Are you enjoying the picnic? Sorry there was no room for you in the carriage.”

  “I was going to skip it, but the Allbrights absolutely insisted I join them.” Julian settled himself on the grass next to Jamie. “You know, I think I’ve changed my mind. Remember how I told you that you should just hold out, and Stephen would soon turn his attention elsewhere? Perhaps it would be less trouble in the end if you just let him have you and be done with it.”

  “I get it,” Jamie said. “He’s been spending nights at home, and you think it’s because of me. It’s not—he’s trying to save money for Charles’ greenhouse.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. You have a certain superficial attraction, based largely on your youth and presumed innocence. But there’ll be just one occasion, one night when your clumsiness will seem charming. Perhaps you could stretch it out to two or three, if you’re careful to cry out in shock the first time he sticks his tongue up your arse. But once he’s satisfied that he’s corrupted your innocence, you’ll have nothing to hold him. Will you?”

  Jamie wished his color didn’t rise so easily. “You know him better than I do.”

  “Perhaps you think you can learn to please him. Idiot. I’ve trained and studied my craft for almost twen—ten years. I can perform acts on Stephen you couldn’t even pronounce. He appreciates sophistication, Mr. Raleigh.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” Jamie met Julian’s eyes at last. “Tell me, Mr. Jeffries. Do you care for Stephen at all? In the least?”

  “Are you telling me you do? Go on, what is it about the man you admire so? Apart from his income, of course.”

  “He’s a better man than he gets credit for, Stephen has a wonderful heart. His staff—he gave most of them a chance when no one else would. He’s good-natured enough to put up even with you, and he’s trying — he’s really trying to learn to take responsibility for himself and his dependents. That’s admirable, Mr. Jeffries, and if you can’t find it so, perhaps you can leave him to someone who can.”

  “My,” Julian said, his eyes glittering from some private joke. “You do have a soupcon of passion to you after all. Do us all a favor and let Stephen use you tonight. Tell you what—I’ll come over and coach you, if you’re worried you can’t figure it out. Maybe I’ll even let you have a taste of me when he’s finished, if you’re very well-behaved.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Jeffries, but I don’t think I’m up to your standards. Good day.”

  “Just remember, that while the way to most men’s hearts may be through their stomachs, Stephen’s is a rather more southerly route. You’ll have no chance at all if you don’t give in.”

  “The very fact that you’re advising it must mean it’s the wrong thing to do.” Or was that the actor’s twisted objective after all? To keep him from passion with Stephen by insisting it was his only choice? Trembling with rage, Jamie left the bucolic ballroom, hoping he would soon forget Julian’s hateful smile.

  Aunt Matilda’s butler caught up with him before he could be so foolish as to attempt the walk back to St. Joseph House in the frigid rain. “Excuse me, Mr. Riley. Her ladyship was hoping you might do her the favor of examining her book before you leave.”

  “Oh.” Jamie shook himself. It was why he was here, after all. “Of course.”

  Hargreave led him to the library, easily twice the size of Stephen’s, lacquered floor-to-ceiling bookcases built into the walls. Fireplaces at either end of the room, shielded by painted Chinese screens, gave off a steady warmth. The butler picked up a volume from a japanned table. “This one, I believe. Lady Matilda doubts whether it’s truly a First Folio.”

  “I’ll be happy to give my opinion.” With effort, he dragged his eyes away from the shelves.

  The butler paused. “Should you feel unlike rejoining the party, perhaps you would be comfortable waiting here for Lord St. Joseph to be ready to leave?”

  Jamie smiled with real gratitude, the knot in his stomach caused by the actor’s venom easing. “Thank you, Hargreave. I would be very comfortable indeed.”

  A few hours later, they were back in the coach, the slow clip-clop of the horse hooves on the cobbled street lulling Jamie toward sleep. The unaccustomed glass of brandy Hargreave had brought to warm his tea while he waited didn’t help.

  “Well? Was it genuine?” Stephen asked.

  “Sorry?”

  Stephen leaned forward, his dark eyes amused. “You look rather relaxed. I was asking about my aunt’s book.”

  “Perfectly genuine, as far as I can tell.” He smothered a yawn. “I am a little—drat.” Jamie put his hand to his mouth. “Queasy, at the moment. Not so good, riding backward.”

  “Come sit by me, then.” Stephen patted the seat beside him in invitation, his smile mischievous. “I promise I won’t bite. Not very hard, anyway.”

  Jamie hesitated. It was cozy in the carriage, the rain having gentled into a soft patter, hot bricks wrapped in flannel warming their feet. He had managed to avoid intimacy since his birthday kiss on the floor of the library over a month before, which was absolutely the right thing to do, he reminded himself now. Firmly. Because it was so very tempting, the idea of sitting next to the earl, snuggling against him. Just then, the carriage wheel struck a pot hole, and Jamie’s stomach bounced toward his mouth, settling the matter. “Well, I can hardly risk throwing up on your boots,” he muttered, taking a place next to Stephen.

  Stephen’s arm instantly encircled Jamie’s shoulders. “There. Isn’t that better?” Stephen’s voice, always plush, was a devastatingly smooth growl tonight.

  Jamie bit his lip. Give in to him, the actor had urged. Let him use you. Jamie could hear his own pulse throb in his ears at the thought. It would be so easy to say yes, and so wrong. Not when the earl didn’t love him, not when there would be no future to build in the morning. Worse than his mother’s experience, really, because he should have learned better from her. “I’m not... I should...”

  Stephen nuzzled Jamie’s ear. “It feels so good to hold you, Mouse. Don’t make me stop.”

  “Mouse?” Jamie’s laugh was breathless. “Did you call me a mouse?”

  “It’s not an insult.” The words were muffled against Jamie’s neck as the earl continued his exploration, setting the nerve endings in Jamie’s throat ablaze. “Believe me.”

  Jamie turned his head, to give Stephen better access, then pushed the other man’s head away instead. “You shouldn’t, my lord.”

  Stephen gave a little chuckle and settled Jamie more firmly against him. “No, don’t go anywhere, Mouse—I’ll try to behave.”

  “Hmph.” Still, Jamie didn’t move back to the other side of the coach. He knew he should, but it was irresistible, being held like this.

  “Unless you’d rather I didn’t behave?”

  “I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “I don’t know what I want.” Jamie shivered suddenly. These thoughts, these feelings needed investigation, contemplation, and he couldn’t think with Stephen’s hand moving slowly on his arm. “I need—you shouldn’t. I’m—I’m out of my depth here.”

  The earl sighed into Jamie’s hair. “There are two of you, you know,” he said. “Right now, you’re my timid little mouse, hesitant, unsure. Like when we first met. Like the first tim
e I kissed you. Then there’s the other Jamie. Confident, in control—the one who puts tallow candles in an earl’s bedroom yet gives wax to the cook—”

  “Are you still going on about those cand—?”

  “—and who’ll argue about it ‘til doomsday, because he knows he’s right.”

  “Well, I am,” muttered Jamie.

  “Yes, you are,” agreed the earl. “You’re just as confident when you play chess.”

  “Who’s not confident, when he knows the rules? When he knows he’s right?”

  “Not everyone. Not everyone has the courage to stand up for what they believe in, or the stubbornness to hammer their points home until even a thick-headed earl can see them. I very much admire that Jamie, even when he crosses me.”

  “Yes, well,” Jamie said in a small voice. “When you... touch me, there aren’t any rules.”

  “Nonsense, Mouse,” the earl said. “The rules of lovemaking are very simple indeed, and no different whether your partner is a man or a woman. It’s just a matter of geography, isn’t it?”

  “What on earth are you talking about?” Jamie said, laughter gurgling in his throat.

  “If the landscape you encounter is convex, suck it.” Stephen latched his mouth briefly onto Jamie’s neck in demonstration, then moved his lips upward and suckled an earlobe. “I’m sure if you think hard, you can imagine other examples.” Jamie shivered. “If it’s concave,” Stephen whispered, “probe it—” His tongue slid into Jamie’s ear, and the young man shuddered again. “—using the instrument that fits best. Flat surfaces can be licked—actually, licking is always appropriate, as are nibbling, stroking, and rubbing—but those are the basic rules. Remember to start gently, and end vigorously, and satisfaction is guaranteed.”

  “Very helpful,” Jamie mumbled.

  Stephen touched his cheek, which was hot with confusion. “You’re blushing again, aren’t you? Well, if you’re going to be embarrassed anyway, let me put all my cards on the table. I’m considered to be a generous lover, Jamie, in a way that has nothing to do with finances. That’s because I do enjoy all sides of the experience—sometimes, it is better to give than receive, if you understand me? No? Well, it gives me great enjoyment to excite a beautiful young man, to pleasure him, to satisfy him.”