The Devil's Bargain Page 4

  Eveline smiled demurely. “Oh, yes, dear Nurse! But I thought you might want to know …”

  “Tch! ‘Dear Nurse,’ indeed! Out with you then! Lady Brookland will be here soon, and I’d not want you to keep her waiting.” Nurse made busy shooshing motions.

  Eveline kissed her on her plump cheek before she left, for she loved her old Nurse Conny, who had been with her ever since her mother died. She could remember her mother in vignettelike fashion, and felt a warm, loving presence when she thought of her. But after a moment, that presence always receded to vague shimmery memories, whereas Nurse’s ample form had always been quite solid and very good at absorbing childish tears. So she didn’t mind much not having a mother, for she had her father and Nurse to care for her.

  And then, of course, there was the eccentric and kind Dowager Countess of Brookland, who was so gracious as to take her under wing and introduce her—a merchant’s daughter—to the fashionable life in Bath. She did not quite know how it had started, but they had fallen into conversation at the circulating library, and Eveline could not help but be charmed by her odd manner and supreme assurance.

  She went down the hall to her father’s chambers and knocked on the door.

  “Enter!”

  Eveline opened the door and went to her father’s side. The room was lit with a brace of candles near the old oak bed, and a healthy fire was burning in the hearth. A few books were stacked on the table next to the bed, within Mr. Seton’s easy reach. He was just marking his page as Eveline came near, and he looked fondly at his daughter over his spectacles.

  “Dearest Papa! How are you feeling tonight?” She took his thin hand in hers and lifted it to her cheek.

  “Better, much better. And you! All set for gadding about, are you?” Mr. Seton patted her hand.

  “Not if you need me, and you mustn’t say no if you do! You know I could not leave this house if I knew you were feeling worse. Doctor Stanton said—”

  “Stanton is an old woman! He and his remedies. A good claret is all I need—strengthens the blood!” He pushed at his bedclothes fretfully. “As well as getting out of this blasted bedroom and into fresh air.”

  Eveline smiled at him. His voice was still booming, still authoritative, but he had changed. His accident a few years ago had aged him, and it was frightening at first to see her father, a vigorous man, in so much pain and weakened in his legs. He was a fighter, however, and she was sure one way or another that he would get up and about, despite the doctor’s gloomy prognosis.

  “To be sure, Papa, when the weather becomes warmer and less wet, you will be able to go about.”

  “Nothing wrong with a bit of rain! Invigorating!”

  “Certainly, Papa. As invigorating as the ague, say, or influenza.” Eveline leaned over and kissed her father’s cheek.

  Mr. Seton tried to look stern, but failed. “Saucy minx! I suppose you are going out with that skitter-wit, Lady Brookland.”

  “My dear Papa, Lady Brookland is all that is kind and generous.”

  “She will introduce you to some scoundrel of a half-pay officer, I am sure.”

  “It does not matter, for I am not at all partial to military men,” Eveline said. She cast a mischievous glance at her father.

  “No, but they are partial to you!” retorted Mr. Seton. He settled himself back in his bed and gazed at his daughter.

  “You have a kind heart, my dear, and that encourages them.”

  Eveline smiled. “But I am also full of common sense, Papa. I well know that none of them would think of offering marriage to a Cit’s daughter. I also know the difference between mere flirting and true interest. Besides, I am sure Lady Brookland would not introduce me to anyone inappropriate.”

  “Humph. Well, I warn you! If you were to run off with one of them, I shall disown you. No half-pay officer will leech off of Augustus Seton, that’s what I say!”

  “Would you really disown me, Papa?” said Eveline, her eyes wide with mock hurt and innocence.

  “No, I would not, and you know it, impudent chit!” growled Mr. Seton.

  “I thought so!” Eveline laughed and hugged him. He smiled and tweaked her ear.

  “Go on then to your party, or assembly, or whatever it is. I shall do well enough.”

  “Are you sure, Papa?”

  “Yes, I am sure! And you know it also, or you wouldn’t be dressed in all your finery and gewgaws. Now get on with you!”

  She walked to the door and opened it. “I love you, Papa,” she said, and quickly closed the door behind her before he could reply.

  “Impudent minx!” muttered Mr. Seton, but smiled.

  Eveline stepped slowly down the stairs to the parlor. Her father had not become any worse since his accident, indeed, it seemed he was getting better. The improvement, however, was excruciatingly long in coming. She knew it frustrated her father that he was not able to go about his business in town. He had good managers and employees, and his solicitor, Mr. Crockett, was very competent. When her father became ill, she came to learn much about finances, for business had to continue even though he had been unconscious for a while. Despite her willingness to take on whatever task needed to be done, and her pride in the way she had learned to negotiate with the best businessmen in town, she could not help being glad that she did not have to take them on as heavily as she had been. The double duty of caring for her father and handling his business concerns had been wearing, and she was glad now that she could take some time for pleasure.

  “Dear, dear Eveline! How charming you look! You shall put all the young ladies to shame this night, I vow!” Lady Brookland said, as Eveline opened the parlor door. Her ladyship wore an astonishing round gown of striped puce and magenta with an overdress of white gauze. Her turban was of the same puce fabric as her dress, and a large smoky gray plume curled over the top and bobbed at one side of her thin and clever face. The turban covered most of her salt-and-pepper hair which, despite Eveline’s teasing of Nurse, was quite her own and still thick. Large diamonds circled her neck, and small ones shone at her wrists and ears. She was never without her thin, silver-topped cane, which she did not really need, for her walk was quick and definitely vigorous.

  “And you, my lady, look … like a summer storm at twilight,” Eveline said and smiled at the lady with genuine affection. “I hope you will forgive me for keeping you waiting! I was just making my farewells to my father and did not heed the time.”

  “Most proper, my dear. Your father must come first before any pleasure.” The countess smiled. “And you dear, sweet child. I know what I really look like is a desperate quiz. But were I to dress as my very dull sons wish me to dress, I would disappear into the wall and attract no notice whatsoever. And what a tedious thing that would be!”

  “Society would be the worse off, I am sure,” replied Eveline solemnly, though her eyes twinkled.

  Lady Brookland chuckled. “I have no doubt of it. But come, child! We must not dawdle!”

  “It is that one.”

  Richard moved a step away from Teufel, even though he knew no one else could see him. Teufel’s whisper fell cold on his ear, reminding him of the dank, chill night when they met, and though the assembly room was warm and brightly lit, his presence froze him to the bone. The viscount raised his eyes, then sighed with relief. The young woman he saw was a pretty, sandy-haired chit with a spoiled and arrogant expression on her face. She pushed rudely past a servant, then caught Richard’s gaze and tittered behind her fan.

  It would be distasteful, but at least it looked as if she might deserve some misfortune.

  “No, not that one. The one a foot to the left of her.”

  This lady’s nose had just enough of a lilt to it to keep her profile from being exactly classical. Tiny flowers in her night black hair glowed like stars, and her lashes fluttered long and dark against her cheek. She looked kindly upon a younger girl, and it seemed she introduced her to a young man—thereby earning the girl’s obvious gratitude. Then the lady smi
led, and Richard caught his breath. She was beautiful. His heart sank.

  She bent over a quiz of a lady who looked vaguely familiar to him, and smiled merrily. Looking up briefly, she met his eyes, then turned away. A light blush blossomed across her skin. She looked up again, and then—to Richard’s amusement—her chin came up, as if answering a challenge. His amusement did not last, however.

  “Yes, that one,” came Teufel’s voice again.

  “God, no,” whispered Richard.

  “God, yes. Go to it, man! It was your promise. Remember your sister.”

  “I remember, damn you!”

  “Damning me is rather redundant, you know. You must think of something better than that.” Teufel chuckled.

  Richard felt bile rise in his throat. “Go away, Teufel,” he said wearily. “I promised.”

  Teufel’s chuckle faded into the air.

  Sometimes Eveline knew when she was being stared at—even when she was not looking at anyone—from a prickling sensation just at the nape of her neck. She searched the crowd in front of her.

  The man was tall and handsome, if a bit sallow of complexion. He had a prideful—almost arrogant—face, all angles and severe planes, and a fierce jutting nose. His straight brown hair was just as severe, cut short and neat. She would almost have fancied that his face had been cut from marble, were it not for his mouth. It was well-formed, expressive, but drooped as if with weariness. Eveline looked away, blushing. Goodness, but she was staring just as much as he!

  She glanced at him through the corner of her eye. He was still staring at her. Surely, he knew how rude he was being! Well, what is sauce for the goose—! Eveline lifted her chin and stared back. An amused look crossed his face, then he grew somber. He glanced away, and Eveline turned to Lady Brookland.

  “He is handsome, is he not?” Lady Brookland said, casting a mischievous look at Eveline.

  She could feel her face grow warm again. “I should not have stared so, I do not know what came over me.”

  “Well, were I in my youth again I would be very inclined to stare. He reminds me of … Yes, I do believe I remember him—Clairmond. But I had heard he was dead! I am glad to see the reports were exaggerated. I remember his father was quite a charmer—but irresponsible. His son is made of sterner stuff, however. He went off to the Peninsula and distinguished himself there.” Lady Brookland smiled at Eveline. “I can introduce you to him if you wish.”

  “Oh, no really, you needn’t … I was not at all thinking …”

  It was already too late. He had come up to them and was already smiling at her. He turned to the Dowager Countess. “Lady Brookland, I believe? How do you do?”

  “Very well, Clairmond, thank you. I am sorry to hear of your father’s passing. Charming man, most charming.”

  Clairmond’s face seemed to freeze for a moment, but then he said genially, “So I have understood. He had many friends.” His gaze moved to Eveline, who was standing with downcast eyes beside Lady Brookland.

  The countess’s lips twitched upward in a barely suppressed smile. “Pray allow me to introduce you to my dear friend Miss Seton. Miss Seton, the Viscount Clairmond.”

  “My lord.” Eveline curtsied, then lifted her eyes to his. She drew in her breath. His eyes. They were large and dark—so very dark! She felt almost as if she could see into his soul. It was as if a deep sadness lived there, and almost a sort of resignation. Eveline wondered what it was that hurt him so, and then shook herself mentally. Really! She was becoming quite fanciful.

  “Miss Seton.” The viscount glanced at the musicians at the end of the room. “If you would do me the honor of a dance … ?”

  Eveline let out her breath. “Oh, yes, please! That is, I would be most delighted.” A blush rose furiously to her cheeks, and she felt annoyed. She was acting in a stupidly missish way—all for a simple little dance, and—oh dear, it was a waltz.

  He took one of her hands in his, and his other hand went to her waist. Eveline could feel them, warm and firm, through the cloth of her gown and clasping her gloved fingers. She felt herself blush again and looked down at her feet as if to concentrate on the steps.

  “You dance superbly for someone who has just learned.” Eveline heard amusement in Lord Clairmond’s voice and raised her eyes to his face. He was smiling, and one corner of his mouth quirked higher than the other. It was an intimate smile, almost as if he was sharing a little secret with her. Eveline felt a little breathless. She gathered her scattered thoughts together.

  “If you must know, I learned to dance the waltz more than two years ago, even before it was much heard of in England.”

  The viscount’s eyebrows went up. “I understand it was considered a rather, ah, fast dance at that time. How daring of you.”

  Eveline lifted her chin. “I was not committing an impropriety, for I danced it only with my schoolmates. One cannot say I was fast for doing that.”

  “And I suppose your schoolmistress knew all about it.”

  “Well, no, she did not.” Eveline cast him a roguish look.

  The viscount burst out laughing. “You are enchanting!”

  “Oh, please don’t!” she blurted. He smiled at her quizzically. “I really am not enchanting at all. And I do feel so very uncomfortable when you … when gentlemen say such things.”

  His smile grew wider. “Then you will just have to learn to become comfortable with it, for it is true, you know.”

  Eveline looked steadily and a little sternly into his eyes. “Is it?”

  Her eyes demanded honesty. Richard’s smile faded, and he gazed back at her, considering. “Yes,” he said.

  Her mouth formed a silent “Oh” as she stared at him, then blushed in embarrassment. “How brazen I must sound, as if I wanted to be complimented—and I don’t really—that is to say, I am not trying to fish for …” She broke off in confusion and looked away.

  He gazed at her profile and thought of a cameo inlaid with ivory and carnelian. She could very well have been a model for one. Her lips looked soft and pink, and suddenly he wanted to touch them with his own, in spite of himself. He wondered if they would taste as sweet as they looked. “Have you been long in Bath, Miss Seton?”

  Eveline cast him a grateful look for this change in subject. “Only for a year. My father has been quite ill, so we came to Bath so that he could take the waters.”

  The viscount’s brow creased. “Have you no other protectors, then?”

  “Of course I do! There is dear Lady Brookland, who takes me to all manner of amusements, and my Nurse Conny, who takes care of me at home.”

  “I mean male protectors—a brother or uncle.”

  “Why, no. I do well enough, I assure you! I have even managed a little of Papa’s business.”

  “Business?”

  “My father is a merchant, sir.” Eveline looked at him straightly, as if watching for some reaction.

  “He is fortunate to have you to help him,” Richard replied and smiled widely. He breathed a mental sigh of relief. So, she was not a lady born. At least there would be less of a scandal; trouble enough, but the ton cared little for the reputation of an untitled nobody. He relaxed. Cit’s daughters were notoriously eager for a title. If she were such, then all he need do would be to wait for her to make an advance toward him to secure a title for herself. Then she would be justly punished if she let her greed for a viscountess’s title lead her to ruin.

  Richard let himself enjoy the rest of the dance: the feel of her small waist against his hand, the brush of her gown against his legs as they twirled around the room. He looked again at her green eyes, her lips that invited kisses. The task before him would not be without its rewards—and he might as well take them, since he had no other choice. He knew what he would do now. He’d flirt with her lightly, tease, and disappear—only to double his attentions toward her when he saw her again. That was what he had done with that married woman so long ago, and it had served his purpose. He did not fool himself that Miss Seton would p
art from him as easily as that woman did. But he doubted anyone would pursue him once he left her—there was only her invalid father, after all.

  Conscience rose in his heart, but the viscount suppressed it. Between the still possible ruin of his sister, Marianne, or the ruin of Miss Seton, there was no choice. More scandal would attach itself to Marianne than to Miss Seton, he was certain. Further, did not Miss Seton say her father was a merchant? She would be very well provided for, no doubt, regardless of what happened. Marianne, on the other hand, would have nothing if he did not fulfill Teufel’s agreement.

  “Would you do me the honor of going into supper with me?” he asked when the dance ended. He still held her hand and carried it gently to his lips.

  Miss Seton blushed adorably. “Oh, yes! That is to say, if Lady Brookland approves.”

  “Of course.” Richard smiled at her, and he led her to the Dowager Countess.

  “Why, of course you may!” cried her ladyship when she heard Richard’s request, which included herself. “But I have been claimed by my dear friend Admiral Roxsley, so you will have to be content with Miss Seton, Clairmond.” Lady Brookland cast an arch look at Eveline.

  “I will do my poor best, my lady,” said Miss Seton demurely. She peeked up at the viscount through her lashes and a dimple appeared in her cheek.

  “Your poor best, Miss Seton, is more than riches,” he replied, and bowed.

  Chapter Four

  There was one pause, one frozen moment, while the young woman paled and pressed a shaking hand over her mouth. Then she rose hastily and drew in a sobbing breath.

  “Richard! Oh, dear God, Richard!” Marianne stumbled forward, and her brother caught her. She buried her face into his neckcloth, weeping, and cast her arms around his neck as if she would never let him go.

  “Hush, hush, little girl,” Richard murmured into her hair, patting her back. He moved her to the sofa and sat her down, giving her a handkerchief from his pocket. She took it gratefully and dabbed her eyes and nose. He smiled. “Or I should say, big girl; you have grown since I last saw you.”