The Seduction (Notorious 1)

“For a brief time, yes.” He met her gaze evenly. “I’ve never tried to conceal the fact that I’ve had liaisons in the past.”

Or will in the future, Vanessa acknowledged bitterly. Damien had never lied to her about his affairs. Yet his honesty didn’t make it any easier to accept that he’d been intimate with the very actress who had inspired her husband’s foolish death. Or to stem the painful jealousy that surged through her. Or to quell the insistent clutch of despair and longing at the thought of Damien with any other woman.

How foolish she was to hope he might change.

Almost wild with misery, Vanessa averted her gaze and brought the glass of punch to her lips.

By the time the second musical act was over, she had consumed enough of the potent brew to somewhat numb her devastation. Her head was swimming and she felt dangerously despondent, but she managed not to cling too heavily to Damien’s arm when they walked down to the riverbank to watch the spectacular fireworks, even though the alcohol sang in her blood like the brilliant rockets bursting overhead.

As the crowd dispersed to return to their boxes, they encountered the group of inebriated young bucks they’d seen earlier, this time no longer accompanied by the two females. All five gentlemen looked three sheets to the wind.

“Come with us, Sin,” one called out. “We mean to tour the fleshpots of London, starting at Tavistock’s.”

“I’m afraid I must decline,” Damien replied with obvious anger. “You may have noticed I have a lady with me.”

“Zounds, bring her along. The more the merrier.” Raising his quizzing glass, he squinted and ogled Vanessa’s bosom.

She clenched her jaw in absolute torment, but maintained a fierce dignity as Damien swiftly drew her away from his friends.

Feeling grimly reckless and destructive, she feigned a smile as she glanced up at Damien. “I should indeed like to see a brothel. It might be highly… educational.”

“I don’t think so,” he replied, stiffening.

“Why not?” she asked coldly. “You said you would show me the dangers of the wicked underworld. What could be more wicked than a brothel?”

“Indeed, but they’re generally for the lower class of demimondaine. A discriminating Cyprian would not allow herself to be seen there.”

Vanessa came to a halt, making Damien stop also. “But I’ve heard of ladies attending such places in disguise. They wear half-masks to conceal their identity.”

“You wouldn’t care for the form of entertainment to be found there, sweeting, I assure you.”

“I think I should be allowed to judge that for myself. Besides, what do you care for my feelings?”

Anger gleamed darkly in his gray eyes as he stared at her.

When Damien still hesitated, Vanessa added with a chill smile, “I imagine those fine friends of yours could be persuaded to escort me, if you refuse.”

Chapter Fifteen

As he escorted Vanessa up the steps of the most elegant sin club in London, Damien seethed with anger. He was loath to bring her here, to expose her to the decadence in which he himself was so well-versed.

His mood had become bleak and dangerous as the evening progressed. Seeing her ogled and demeaned by his drunken acquaintances was even more repugnant than her being taunted by one of his former paramours about her jewels.

He’d chosen emeralds for Vanessa to complement her dark beauty, to set off the burnished fire of her hair. He couldn’t even remember what trinkets he’d settled on Elise Swann so many months ago. Indeed, his secretary had chosen the Swann’s gifts, and any similarity was purely coincidence. Perhaps he should have simply told Vanessa that, no matter how ill-bred such an explanation would have been. He should at least have offered an apology.

Both incidents had left an acid taste in his mouth… oddly like shame. Damien’s jaw hardened as he recognized the uncommon sentiment.

Until tonight he would have termed their visit to London a marginal success. In the past few days he had managed to withdraw from their relationship, at least physically.

He’d kept their opportunities for intimacy to an absolute minimum, resorting to cold formalities and denying himself all but the most unavoidable contact with Vanessa. It had proven harder to dampen his fever for her, to maintain even a small measure of control over his unquenchable desire, to crush his alarming feelings of tenderness.

He dared not allow any tender emotions between them. Midnight trysts and quiet conversations had no place in their current relationship. If he found himself regretting the loss, or yearning for the friendship they had once shared, if he felt the hollow echoes of his past in this current sojourn to London-loneliness and emptiness-it was a price he was willing to pay to be rid of his obsession.

Vanessa’s education was proceeding apace, and soon he would be able to wash his hands of her without his conscience flaying him. Or so he desperately hoped…

“Will we find your dissipated friends here?” she coolly interrupted his dark thoughts.

He gave a sardonic smile. “I trust not. Tavistock Court, where they were headed, specializes in flagellation. I doubt you have any desire to be flailed with rods or nettles to stimulate sexual arousal.”