The Seduction (Notorious 1)

“I wish to make you aware of certain arrangements I have executed on your behalf, Lady Wyndham. Lord Sinclair has deeded a substantial fortune to you, along with a large manor house in Kent, close to London. The house is situated on a prime piece of property and is fully staffed, with a park that is quite agreeable.”

Vanessa stared at him, wondering if Damien had dared charge his solicitor with setting her up permanently as his mistress. “I… am afraid I don’t understand,” she managed to say evenly, despite her welling ire.

“His lordship thought you might wish to have your own household once your brother’s bride becomes mistress of his estates, but that you might prefer to be near your family. Thus the location in Kent. As I mentioned, it is in close proximity to London as well. The stables are not yet stocked, but he was of the opinion you would prefer to choose your own mounts and carriage horses-”

“Mr. Naysmith,” Vanessa interrupted with impatience, “I have not yet considered where I wish to live once Miss Sinclair becomes mistress here, but that is hardly any of Lord Sinclair’s concern. And it certainly fails to explain the reason for his… generosity.”

The solicitor nodded solemnly. “To put the matter delicately, my lady, he wished you to be financially independent so that you might be free to choose your own future-particularly whether or not to wed again.”

Vanessa’s shocked silence lasted a full minute.

When she made no reply, the solicitor explained in more detail. “The legal arrangements are slightly unusual, but not unheard of. Without dwelling overly much on the particulars, let me assure you that the sum in question is tied up so that any future husband of yours cannot control it, as is standard under English law. The majority of the principal, some two hundred thousand pounds, will remain in trust for any heirs-children-you might have, with a substantial quarterly interest paid directly to you. In short, my lady, you are a wealthy woman.”

Withdrawing a sheaf of papers from his case, he handed it to a stunned Vanessa. “I anticipated that you might wish some time to digest this news and perhaps read these documents, my lady, and so I planned to remain in the district at least until the morrow. I shall be happy to return at a later time to discuss the arrangements further, if you like.”

“No…” Vanessa said absently. Under normal circumstances, any self-respecting woman would be insulted by such a blatant offer of money. But she was certain Damien hadn’t meant to insult her. Quite the contrary. “Thank you, but I don’t believe that will be necessary. Your explanations have been thorough enough.”

She did wish for privacy, however, and was glad when the solicitor shortly took his leave. She needed time to reflect on the bewildering turn of events.

If she understood correctly, she was now independently wealthy, completely free to make her own decisions about her future. Her fate was entirely hers to decide, unlike when Damien had obliged her to become his mistress, or when she had married a reckless rogue to satisfy her father’s debts.

Independence was Damien’s gift to her.

What did he mean by such generosity? Did he truly expect nothing in return? Did he know how much his gesture meant to her? Of course he did. He knew how vital independence was to her.

Absurdly Vanessa felt tears burn her eyes. She had to see him, to discover why he had given her such a precious gift. Was it due to guilt? Or because of some deeper, more profound reason, something closer to the heart?

Her sisters chose that moment to walk into the study, although she hadn’t even heard them come home.

When Fanny saw her, the girl stopped her chatter in midstream. “What has happened, Vanessa? Did that solicitor bring bad news?”

“No…”

“Then why ever are you crying?”

Swiftly Vanessa wiped away her tears. “I don’t know exactly. I suppose it’s because I am happy.” She stood up, clutching the sheaf of papers. “I must go to London at once.”

“Now? But Cook promised a chilled custard pudding for luncheon.”

Vanessa forced a smile. “You may have my portion, Fanny. I don’t believe I could eat a bite.”

Once again Vanessa found herself ascending the front steps of Lord Sin’s London mansion, completely disregarding the impropriety of calling alone at a gentleman’s residence. Yet after all that had happened between them, a touch more scandalous conduct would hardly register on the scales.

She wondered if she would find Damien at home. It was nearly six o’clock, too early for him to have gone out for the evening. If he had not yet returned, she was resolved to wait for him forever, if necessary.

She was greeted by the same stately majordomo as before and informed that, yes, his lordship was indeed in. Her heart beating erratically, she stepped inside and was unexpectedly surrounded by the fragrant scent of roses. Vanessa stared in puzzlement, certain the large pots of white and crimson blooms ornamenting the entryway hadn’t been there on her first visit. Had Damien sent for them from his conservatories at Rosewood? She’d thought he wouldn’t want to be reminded of his life there.

Assailed by bittersweet memories, she followed the servant to a salon, whose lamps had been lit against the deepening autumn twilight. The beautiful room boasted a gilded ceiling and a cheerily burning fire. Gratefully Vanessa moved to stand before the hearth, holding out her chilled hands to the flames. She wasn’t surprised to find herself trembling-a condition that only grew worse as the interminable moments drew out.

She sensed his presence before he spoke her name.

“Vanessa…” The low murmur made her heart leap.

She turned around slowly, scarcely daring to breathe. Dam

ien stood just inside the room, watching her, completely still, as if he, too, feared risking a breath.

Her heart jolting in her chest, she drank in the sight of his beautiful face. It was their first meeting since the duel, and although she searched, she could see little outward indication of his injury-except that he looked thinner and a shade paler, and perhaps he held his left arm a bit stiffly. His eyes, however, were wary, intense.