The Seduction (Notorious 1)

“Other than my usual decadent pleasures, you mean?” Damien frowned thoughtfully. “It is hardly a gentleman’s occupation, but I’m quite good at making money.”

Vanessa smiled. “That is a valuable talent indeed. Surely you could find an unexceptional diversion along those lines?”

“Perhaps. What about you, my lovely dragon? Do you harbor any interests you’ve kept secret?”

She shrugged lightly. “I would have liked to have had children, like most women. But that is highly unlikely now.”

“Why so?”

“Because I don’t intend to marry again. My sole concern now is for my sisters and how to provide for them. I vowed they would never be sold into marriage as I was. If they marry, it will be for love.”

When the corner of Damien’s mouth twisted sardonically, Vanessa arched an eyebrow. “I suppose you don’t believe in love?”

“Oh, I believe in it. Particularly in its destructive powers. Love can too easily become obsession. My father was a prime example. My sister is another. Olivia fancied herself in love, and it nearly destroyed her life.”

In the silence that followed his cynical observation, Damien averted his gaze and stared down at the brandy in his glass. He’d never known love, nor had he wanted to, not after the abominable example his father had set.

Yet, for the first time, Damien became conscious of the risk he was taking with Vanessa. It alarmed him, the tenderness he was beginning to feel for her.

He’d had mistresses who could arouse his passion before, but softer emotions such as admiration and friendship and affection never invaded his affairs.

This warm, intimate sharing with a woman was new. And addictive. He found himself craving Vanessa’s company, devising excuses to be with her.

If their acquaintance continued this way, Damien realized, he could run a grave risk of emulating his father.

Damien had promised his sister a picnic on the first clear day, which had Olivia eagerly searching the skies the moment she arose each morning. The rain ended at last one Monday, leaving a pristine morning. Damien ordered an alfresco luncheon packed, and by noon, the three of them were seated in the landau, with only a coachman and one footman in attendance.

When they stopped on a hilltop, Vanessa found herself enchanted by the picturesque view of the emerald-green, undulating countryside. The low hills seemed to roll on forever, forming an endless quilt of fields and pastures embroidered by hedgerows and patches of woodland. Damien handed her down from the carriage and then lifted his sister in his arms, as any burly footman might.

He had forsworn his usual elegant, impeccable tailoring for this occasion in favor of leather breeches, top boots, and a plain waistcoat, and Vanessa thought he looked more like a country gentleman than a dissipated nobleman, as at ease in this domain as he would be at the gaming tables or the opera.

They settled Olivia in the shade of a chestnut tree with a half-dozen pillows, and then enjoyed a delicious repast of cold chicken, cheese, fresh fruit, and wine, while the servants kept a respectful distance.

By the time the last crumb had been devoured, the day had turned lazy and warm. Olivia lay back on her pillows with a sigh, watching the fleecy clouds float across the sky.

“This,” she murmured, “is quite lovely. I wish every day could be this beautiful. Don’t you, Vanessa?”

Vanessa couldn’t help but meet Damien’s eyes in a conspiratorial glance. Their efforts to cheer the girl, to banish her loneliness and melancholia, seemed to be having an effect at last.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Vanessa answered lightly. “If every day were just like this, then today would no longer be special. Which reminds me…” She asked Damien to pass her the painted tin box that had been packed with the lunch. “I took the liberty of having your cook make these,” she said to his sister.

Olivia opened the tin and smiled to see the baked meringues in the shape of swans. “How did you know these are my favorite?”

“I seem to remember your mentioning it a time or two.”

“I can recall at least a dozen,” Damien interjected wryly.

Olivia took a delicate bite of a swan and shut her eyes, savoring the sweetness. “I never can get Cook to make them for me. She says she doesn’t want to spoil me.”

Vanessa smiled. “Everyone can do with a little spoiling now and then.”

“You are so wise.”

“I’m glad you think so. My sisters consider me an over-managing tyrant at times.”

Olivia laughed, a happy, musical sound. “I’m sure you are not!”

“Well, their complaints do usually come after I’ve refused them a new gown they’ve set their hearts on.”