The Art of Taming a Rake (Legendary Lovers 4)

I learned earlier about Ackland’s long-standing liaison, I might have been more discreet when terminating our betrothal.”

She gave Traherne a considering look. “You knew he kept a mistress and yet you did nothing to warn me.”

“A man doesn’t betray his friends.”

“I would have been spared a lot of pain had I known. And I might have spared my family.”

She deeply regretted the distress she’d caused her family but not her denunciation of Ackland. “If I could do it over again, I still would have ended our engagement. I could never have been happy wedded to him. He was not the honorable man I thought him. My mother couldn’t forgive me, though. She thought Ackland was only sowing his wild oats before he settled down, and could not understand why I objected to marrying an adulterer.”

Traherne hesitated. “I might point out that you cannot commit adultery without being wed.”

His response was perfectly logical, but her feelings were not driven by logic. “He would have eventually been unfaithful, I have no doubt.” Venetia ground her teeth together involuntarily as she rose to her feet and began to pace the small parlor. “I don’t believe it is too much to ask that a husband remain true to his holy marriage vows, especially when he claims to love you. But I have learned my lesson. I will no longer trust any man’s avowals of love.”

“There you are again, tarring all of us with the same brush.”

“With good cause.” She glanced over her shoulder at Traherne. “I doubt you would ever practice fidelity.”

She could see her accusation nettled him. “You don’t know that,” Traherne answered slowly. “It’s not unknown for a rake to change his wicked ways.”

Venetia shrugged. “You needn’t bother to try. You promised we could lead separate lives once the danger has passed. I mean to hold you to your promise and return to France as soon as may be.”

He cocked his head. “Are you certain you would be any happier living in France?”

“I believe so. I have come to relish my independence. That has been the one major advantage to being an outcast. The scandal liberated me in many ways.”

Another smile tugged at his mouth. “You are not so liberated, love. You are still trapped by your past, and you have grave inhibitions about carnal relations.”

She quickly rallied. “I meant that I am no longer smothered by the same constrictions as before. My art is a prime illustration. In my parents’ view, my desire to pursue sculpting is another sin to my credit, or so my sister told me in her smuggled notes.” Venetia’s second sigh was even deeper. “I regret most disappointing them.”

“Your parents don’t deserve your consideration after casting you out. Their treatment of you was deplorable.”

In a way, she agreed with him. For a moment she was spun back two years to the aftermath of her public rebellion. She had been ruined and socially ostracized and exiled to a foreign country, but none of that held a candle to how hurt, how devastated, she’d been by her parents’ repudiation.

Suddenly her throat ached and her eyes smarted with unexpected tears. She had felt frighteningly vulnerable and alone those first few months. Without Cleo, she would have been desperate, forced to eke her own way in the world, living in shabby-genteel circumstances or outright penury.

Venetia stared blindly down at the carpet as she remembered. She had been prepared to endure the unenviable life of a spinster, but it had been such a lonely time, with so little remaining of her dreams. As a childless widow, Cleo was in a similar predicament. They had clung together and developed a strong friendship, to her eternal gratitude.

Just then Traherne rose from his chair and moved closer, startling her out of her sad reverie. When he touched her face, brushing back a tear that had escaped, her gaze snapped up to his.

She saw tenderness there, heart-tugging tenderness. His blue eyes were clear and intent, as if he could see down into her soul—which made her feel raw and exposed.

Despite her innate response to his sympathy, though, a jolt of purely sensual awareness shot through Venetia at his touch. There was no denying the surge of heat she felt standing this close to him.

“You know I don’t want your pity,” she said finally, with more defiance than she intended.

“Trust me, sweeting, it is not pity I feel for you at the moment. Just now I want to shake your parents, or commit some even more violent act upon their persons.”

What she wanted just now was for Traherne to put his protective arms around her, to draw her into his warm embrace and simply hold her. But that would never do.

Drawing back, she covered her discomfiture by resuming her place on the sofa and disparaging his tactics. Oh, he was a wily devil. She knew very well he enjoyed undermining her defenses, yet she could feel herself softening toward him almost hourly.

If she was honest, she would admit she greatly enjoyed his companionship. His conversation was scintillating and his sharp wits kept her own honed. Even with the peril they faced—or perhaps because of it—she couldn’t deny the exhilaration he had kindled in her. Traherne had yanked her out of her safe cocoon and enlivened her dull, lonely existence. She was never lonely when she was with him….

Venetia swallowed, resolutely pushing away the ache in her chest. She was her own mistress now. She had fought hard to build her new life in France, with a fulfilling pursuit to occupy her time. For her own self-preservation, she couldn’t now add a libertine husband who had been compelled to wed her.

When he spoke again, his voice gentled even further. “Let me be clear, Venetia.” He waited until she looked at him once more. “I want to assure you, as my countess you can continue to be independent. You will have the means to live whatever life you wish.”

Venetia shook her head. “As your countess, I am legally your property.”