Velvet Embrace

Dominic was still asking himself that same question nearly a week later as he sat drinking alone in the comfort of his library. He frowned, staring at the crystal tumbler of brandy in his hand, not really seeing the swirling golden liquid. In a few hours, Brie would arrive in London, and as yet he had reached no conclusions as to what to do about her.

Several times during the past week, he had found himself regretting his decision to delay the journey to France. He had grown bored with waiting and his usual pursuits had afforded him little pleasure. Tonight he had actually turned down an invitation for an evening of cards, preferring instead the solitude of his own company. After a quiet dinner, he had retired to the library where he planned to read, but his book lay unopened on a side table. As he lounged in a large, stuffed- leather chair before the hearth, his long legs stretched before him, his thoughts unavoidably strayed to Brie.

Only one thing was certain: they could not continue their present relationship. Brie's reputation would never survive an affair with him. Dominic had learned the rules at an early age. While it was perfectly acceptable for married women to take lovers and spawn a dozen bastards, young single ladies were strictly forbidden to engage in such activities. There would be rumors a-plenty were he even to call her. And were society to learn that the wicked Earl of Stanton had seduced the lovely

Miss Brie Carringdon, had stolen her innocence and spent a night in her bed, the gossips would have a field day.

Dominic frowned. He wanted Brie for his mistress, but he could see how impossible such a course would be. Even if he could somehow convince her, even if they managed to keep it hidden for a time, sooner or later someone was sure to discover it. She was known in the better circles of town and couldn't be passed off as an actress or young widow. He could easily weather the resulting scandal, of course, but Brie would be badly hurt.

He had been surprised to find himself concerned for her reputation, for he rarely let such considerations influence him. But then, she had been a virgin. He had been her first real lover. Perhaps that explained his current dilemma. He was experiencing a twinge of conscience, to say the least.

The situation was more complex, however, than Brie's loss of innocence, and he damned well knew it. He had become too involved with her, had let his passions interfere with good judgment. He should have left at once for France. Given time, he would forget the russet-haired beauty who had been in his thoughts so often during the past weeks. Or would he?

Dominic shifted in his chair, wondering why the devil he was dwelling on such thoughts. He had never been one to waste time analyzing his own emotions, particularly where women were concerned. He preferred instead to live his life without encumbrances, to act for the moment, not exactly drifting— for he had done quite well at rebuilding his fortunes—but the goals that he set for himself were always tangible challenges, avoiding completely the issues of relationships. His pursuit of Brie had begun as such. . . . So why now, when he had more pressing matters to consider, did he worry about a relationship with a woman he had met only a few weeks ago?

He knew full well why. Because he could picture Brie in his arms, passionate, warm, yielding. Because he could feel her soft, silken body writhing beneath him. . . . Devil take it, his heart started slamming against his ribs whenever he just thought about seeing her again. Virgin or no, making love to her had been one of the best experiences he had ever had with a woman—and strangely, the most satisfying. But why the tight constriction in his chest when he considered putting an end to their relationship?

Draining his glass, Dominic dismissed the nagging question. Brie Carringdon was an enchanting witch, impossible to ignore or forget, but he had to stop seeing her. There would be no honorable course other than marriage if he continued his pursuit of her, and not for any woman, no matter how ravishingly beautiful, would he suffer those chains willingly. He would use his trip to France as an excuse to dissolve what they had begun. He would see Brie on the morrow and explain that his departure was unavoidable. And by the time he returned to England, perhaps he would have conquered his fierce attraction for the beautiful little termagant. Indeed, dismissing her from his life should be no more difficult than discarding a favorite coat, Dominic told himself firmly as he raised his glass of brandy to his lips.

He did not, however, think it odd that he was required to drink almost a full bottle of the potent liquor before he believed himself thoroughly convinced.

Dominic was perusing the newspapers over breakfast the next morning—as well as trying to recover from a severe hangover—when Julian arrived, interested in hearing what had happened with Germain. When Dominic briefly recounted the details, Julian let out a slow whistle.

"You know, Dom, you lead a charmed life. I am truly in awe, for nothing like that ever happens to me. After you left last week, the most excitement I had was determining how to protect Brie and Caroline if we should come across any highwaymen. And since we weren't accosted by so much as a scarecrow, the journey turned out to be rather uneventful. I almost wish I were going to France with you. Although . . .aren't you leaving rather suddenly?"

"It isn't sudden," Dominic replied. "In fact I've already delayed almost a week so I could attend the christening this morning."

"Er, of course. I merely thought that since Brie just arrived in town . . ." Julian hesitated, noting the sudden glitter in his friend's eyes.

"Yes?" Dominic prodded, his soft tone a warning in itself.

"Never mind," Julian replied, deciding not to press the issue. He told Dominic, instead, that Jester seemed to be healing nicely, and it served to turn the conversation.

They talked for a while longer before Julian rose to take his leave. "By the way," he said, keeping his tone casual. "I am escorting Caroline and Brie to the Vauxhall Opera this evening. You are welcome to join us, if you care to."

"Thanks, but I mean to attend the Copely's ball. I suppose I will see you when I return from France.""Yes . . . , well . . . , good luck then, Dom." His words were warm but his tone was stiff and formal. He turned to go.

"Julian," Dominic called after him.

"Yes?"

"Quit trying to play matchmaker, will you? You are much too obvious."

"Dominic," Julian said with a good-natured grin, "I begin to understand why someone wants to murder you. You know how to thrust where it hurts!"

The christening went smoothly and lasted only a short while. His afternoon free, Dominic drove his curricle to the Langley residence in Russell Square where Brie was staying. He planned to invite her for a drive, wanting a few moments alone with her. His expectations were short-lived, however, for when he asked to see Brie, he was told that Miss Carringdon was not at home. "I believe she is expected to return shortly," the butler added. "Would my lord care to wait? I would be pleased to inquire if Lady Langley is receiving."

Since Dominic had absolutely no desire to see Brie's aunt, he declined and politely thanked the servant. He was turning to leave when someone called his name. Looking up, he saw Brie's companion standing on the grand staircase, leaning heavily on a cane. She was staring down at him, one hand held at her throat, her age-lined face a ghostly shade. Dominic was puzzled by her expression. The elderly woman looked as distressed now as when he had brought Brie home the day of the shooting.

"Lord Stanton," Katherine said again, her voice unsteady. "I should like a word with you, if you can spare a moment."

"Miss Hewitt, is it not?"

"Yes, my lord. We can use the salon, there, to your left."

Dominic waited as Katherine slowly made her way down the stairs, then allowed her to precede him into the room, curious to hear what she had to say. He expected her to take a seat, but she only turned slowly to face him, eyeing him with that same strange mixture of horror and dread.

Dominic shut the door and moved to stand near the fireplace, letting his glance travel around the room as he waited patiently for Katherine to speak. The salon was done entirely in blue and cream shades, and elegantly furnished with Louis XVI furniture. There were several portraits hanging on the walls, and Dominic noted the one of Lady Arabella with an inward grimace. Brie's august aunt stared stiffly down from the canvas, her likenes&evincing the kind of chilling hauteur that shriveled souls. Her proud look subtly reminded Dominic of Brie, but he knew it would take Brie twe