A Seduction in Scarlet (Aphrodite's Club 1)

They didn’t speak again. There was no need. They kissed gently as the water rocked the boat, and then he began to make love to her slowly, carefully, in their secret world. And it was like a promise they made to each other; a vow for the future.

“Duval Hall. In Norfolk.” As Arnold said the names, his mouth twisted with scorn.

Lara’s face went blank.

“I know, my dear, it isn’t a place that immediately springs to mind when one thinks of your stepmama. Evidently, Mr. Worthorne resides there.”

“So she has run off with him!”

“Or him with her.”

“What will we do?” A glittery light came into her eyes. “Will we tell the queen?”

“I think we might,” Arnold said thoughtfully, “but it must be done in the correct way, so that we look like caring relatives. Soon, though. I’ve wasted enough time.”

“Portia has been very bothersome. We should punish her.”

“Don’t worry, I have every intention of doing so.”

Lara smiled up at him, her eyes slanting, and he felt an unexpected bolt of lust. If his friends hadn’t been there, he might consider following her up the stairs.

Lara glanced back over her shoulder into the dining room, where those friends were partaking of their brandy and cigars. “I will leave you, then,” she said to Arnold, a little pathetically. Perhaps she had read his expression. “I imagine you will be talking about boring matters for hours…?”

“Quite possibly.” Arnold eyed her thoughtfully, then abruptly reached out and stroked her shoulder, feeling the warmth of her flesh beneath his fingertips. His next words surprised even him. “Read a little while, my dear. I will try not to be down here too long.”

Startled pleasure flushed her cheeks and she smiled as she turned away.

Arnold waited a beat before he reentered the room and closed the door. They all fell silent, and he knew he had their full attention.

“I will expect my wife to be cared for when the deed is done,” he said with quiet intensity. “Although we will triumph, she will face ruin, socially and financially, and she will need your help.”

“Of course.” The murmur went around the table.

Arnold gave each of them the benefit of his cold hard stare and was satisfied. He did not love Lara, not as he loved the cause he would give his life for, but he’d discovered that he didn’t want to see her suffer unnecessarily. Her feelings in regard to him didn’t interest him, and he suspected she would hate him when it was done. Although in time her need to preserve her pride would cause her to fictionalize his part in the queen’s death, and she would find some way to exonerate him. It was something he would have found amusing, if he’d been here.

But just now there was the problem of Portia and Marcus Worthorne, who was aptly named, because the man had certainly become a thorn in his side. What he had said to Lara was true, it was immaterial whether Marcus had run off with Portia or she with him. The point was, they were hiding out at Duval Hall in the middle of nowhere, and he had to find some way of getting the queen to them, or them to the queen.

His moment of triumph was fast approaching, and the odd thing was, he wanted Portia there to witness it. He wanted her to know what he was capable of and to share his glory, however unwillingly on her part.

The very thought of it stirred his lust again, the feelings even more powerful than before.

“My friends, I will leave you to make your own way out,” he said abruptly, rising to his feet. “Good night.”

He closed the door on their startled faces and started up the stairs, as eager as a bridegroom.

By the following morning Arnold was clear-headed again, and had decided on his next move. By nine o’clock he was presenting himself at Buckingham Palace. It was not as difficult as he’d expected to gain admittance to the queen. Once Portia’s name was mentioned, doors were opened, and before long he was in the antechamber waiting to be led into the royal presence.

The queen listened to the announcement with disquiet.

“Mr. Gillingham is waiting to see you, ma’am. He says he has some news to impart to you about Lady Ellerslie.”

Victoria’s plump face grew stern. She did not like Mr. Arnold Gillingham; he had an unpleasant chilliness about his eyes. And there were rumors about his father—she remembered there had been a scandal once, when her uncle was alive. The sins of the father shouldn’t taint the son, of course, but in this case she was willing to make an exception.

“Very well, I will see him. Briefly.”

When Arnold entered, he

bowed low. “Your Majesty.”