Lessons in Seduction (Greentree Sisters 1)

Not that she would ever change his mind, he told himself hastily, for she couldn’t. Candlewood had to be torn down, and he had offered the orphans an alternate shelter. That they had rejected his offer was not his problem; he had no desire to become a champion of the poor and homeless.

No, Vivianna would never persuade him to do anything he didn’t want to do, but it would be…interesting letting her try.

Chapter 5

“Miss Greentree is here, my lord. She wants to leave her card. There is a message written on the back of it.”

Oliver looked up at his blank-faced butler, wondering whether he was hearing things. His gaze dropped to the card upon the silver salver held in Hodge’s gloved hand. The white square was plain and unadorned, apart from the simple words, Miss Vivianna Greentree, Greentree Manor, Yorkshire.

The fact that he had been in the library, sitting and brooding over a glass of brandy and thinking of her, seemed to have conjured her up.

“What does the message on the back say, Hodge?”

The butler turned the card over and pursed his lips. “It says: ‘I can help you,’ my lord.”

Oliver considered this. I can help you. So many possibilities. It intrigued him, as it was no doubt meant to. “Show her in, Hodge.”

Hodge quickly wiped the surprise from his face. Ever since the incident of Celia Maclean, Oliver had a rule that no unaccompanied females were allowed into his home unless he gave prior instruction. He had now set a precedent, for Hodge, himself, and Miss Greentree.

“In here, my lord?”

Hodge did not look about at the library; he did not have to. The dark tones, the heavy furniture, the leathery smell of the books, all spoke of this being very much a masculine province. It was not a room that a lady had been asked to share recently, certainly not to sit and chat or, in Vivianna’s case, lecture. Too bad, thought Oliver. If she wished to help him, she would have to do so on his terms.

Hodge had departed, and soon returned with Miss Greentree. The door closed heavily behind her.

She was dressed in another of her plain dresses. This one was dark green, gathered at her waist, the full skirt hiding numerous petticoats and almost brushing the ground—he saw a hint of black shoe. The bodice was very tightly fitted, with no adornment other than a high lace collar, and the sleeves also fitted to her arms, tight to the wrist, where they were trimmed by a white lace cuff to match the collar. Her chestnut hair was bundled into a heavy knot at her nape—no braids or ringlets—and pinned in place beneath a modest straw hat tied with black ribbons. She carried a practical-looking drawstring bag in her gloved hands.

Oliver’s second thought on seeing her was that he would like to throw the bag out of the window, followed by her hat, pull out all her hairpins, and let her hair tumble down around her.

His first thought: Her dress might be plain and unadorned, but that, and its fittedness, only made it more obvious that the body beneath was rounded and very womanly. He wanted to peel it off her, throw it in the fire, and then dress her anew. Red silk. Yes, Miss Vivianna Greentree would look very fine in red silk. Perhaps a red silk shawl, with a fringe to dangle tantalizingly over her breasts and her thighs as she lay on his sofa before the fire, her eyes half closed beneath her long dark lashes, her hair shimmering about her shoulders, and her smile all for him.

It was a delightful fantasy.

Abruptly Oliver stood up, his glass still in his hand. Vivianna was watching him with ill-concealed dismay, and, with her gaze lingering on the glass, a good deal of censure. He realized then that she thought he was drunk—she had already made her case against him and pronounced sentence. She had judged him a useless, worthless creature. He could hardly blame her for that; he had taken pains to portray himself as exactly such a man for the past year. Besides, her lips were pursed so disapprovingly and yet so appealingly that he thought he may as well go ahead and help her to think the worst.

He wanted to shock her, didn’t he? He wanted to drive her away?

Oliver gave her his best drunken smile, managing to sway a little at the same time, as if he were having difficulty keeping his balance. “Miss Greentree! You are truly the bravest woman of my acquaintance.”

“Lord Montegomery?” Her hazel eyes widened, her fine skin flushed. “What can you mean?”

“I mean that you have come to my house. All alone. I congratulate you.”

Vivianna wondered, watching him execute a wobbly bow, if he was trying to be amusing. He was obviously the worse for drink, although it was hard to tell how worse for it he actually was. She had come here to leave her card with its message, and instead had been allowed into his inner sanctum. She had not expected to see him, but when the opportunity was given to her, she had not been able to resist. But now that she was actually standing before him, seeing the gleam in his eye, noting the way his dark hair fell forward over his brow…Her breath hitched; her fingers tightened on her bag. This was Oliver Montegomery at his most dangerous.

She should not have come here alone. Again.

Vivianna watched him watching her, and did her best to pretend she was unaffected. “I do not think I have anything to be afraid of, my lord,” she said evenly. “You are a gentleman, are you not?”

He smiled, and gently shook his finger at her. “I was born a gentleman, Miss Greentree, but I am afraid I have long since ceased to earn the right to be called one.”

He went to the decanter and poured himself another glass of brandy, although she was quite certain he had had more than enough.

“What did you mean, Miss Greentree, when you wrote, ‘I can help you’? Have you come to offer me solace? I am a man in great need of solace, as you can see. Or do you think you are the woman to set me back on the…the straight and narrow? I am sure you have whipped many a man into shape.”

She colored at his hint of the episode at Aphrodite’s, but did not look away. Strange, but drunk as he obviously was, his eyes were clear and watchful still, the blue untainted by spirits or vice.

“I have come to offer my help, my lord, because yesterday I visited Candlewood, and I heard from my friends there of your brother’s death. I realize now that you are a man suffering grievously, and that you may simply need someone to talk to, to guide you. That is what I meant when I wrote upon the card.”