The dark edge to his tone suggested pain as well as censure, and Vanessa studied him curiously. “I confess you are not what I expected.”
“How so?”
Vanessa pursed her lips thoughtfully. At his country home, Lord Sin seemed vastly different from his reputation. She’d seen little of his rakish ways here. On the contrary, she’d seen how he treated his sister, his protectiveness and gentleness toward her. He could not be all bad if he cared so deeply for someone. “You just seem different. Not as wild and wicked as I would have thought.”
“I rarely indulge in orgies and perversions at home,” he responded wryly. “And I draw the line at adultery.”
“I am comforted to know that.”
Her reply elicited a quick grin from him.
“Seriously,” Vanessa remarked, “you do surprise me. Your interest in roses, for example. Horticulture is an unlikely pastime for a man of your stamp. Mrs. Nesbit tells me you rescued the gardens from near ruin.”
“It was merely a diversion I dabbled with many years ago, in my youth. The roses rarely require my attention now. I have an excellent head nurseryman in charge, and the conservatories are practically self-sufficient.”
“Your library seems as well tended as your gardens. I spent a few moments examining your collection this afternoon. I never expected to find such a wide selection of volumes-everything from novels to political discourses to technical treatises.”
“My secretary deserves much of the credit. Last year he arranged and catalogued the lot. The library in my London house has space for only a modest collection, so I usually have the volumes shipped here. You met George Haskell in London, I believe.”
“Yes.”
“Poor George. He’s a clever young man but intensely studious.” Damien flashed a self-deprecating smile. “He would doubtless be happier in someone else’s employ. In his opinion, I’m an abject failure.”
“A failure?”
“Because I won’t take my seat in the House of Lords. George writes excellent speeches that I have no intention of delivering.”
“Why not?”
“I’ve never taken much of an interest in politics. Yet he won’t give up hope that I will develop political aspirations someday.”
Vanessa eyed Damien curiously. “The books I saw in your library seemed to have been well perused. Did your secretary read them all?”
“No, I am the culprit, I’m afraid. I tend to read a great deal here. There is little else to do.”
“You actually read Wollstonecraft’s Vindication of the Rights of Women?”
“Yes. Have you?”
“Yes.” Her chin rose somewhat defiantly. Mary Wollstonecraft’s publication arguing against the subjection of women by men was considered seditious among the noble class. “And I found myself in accord with a number of her convictions regarding marriage. Especially those refuting the divine rights of husbands.”
“She made some interesting points about the social tyranny exercised by men,” Damien agreed, “but I thought some of her opinions stretched credibility.”
“Perhaps,” Vanessa acknowledged.
His glance seemed to measure her. “I confess, you are not precisely what I expected either. You are far more innocent. I never would have guessed you had been married before.”
“Why do you say so?”
“Because you’re so skittish with men.”
“Not all men.”
“Just myself?”
She gave him an arch look. “I think you’ve given me good reason to be skittish, if that is what I am.”
“Perhaps so. We will have to remedy that.”
Vanessa shook her head mentally at the velvet promise in his tone. It was mystifying, how she could feel safe with him when he had as much as threatened her virtue.
An easy, contented silence settled between them. Some moments later Damien broke the quiet spell by asking, “Do you always plait your hair before sleeping?”
“Usually.” She looked wary. “Why?”
“You have lovely hair. I want to see it loose and fanning across my pillow.”
It was a deliberately provocative remark, which she determinedly ignored. Even in the moonlight, however, Damien could make out the flush on her cheeks, and he was enchanted.
Catching her off guard was not easy. Breaking through her prickly defenses required a deft and delicate touch.
He’d spoken truthfully. She was indeed unexpected. He’d been mistaken about her experience, obviously, prejudiced by the scandals involving her late husband and the rumors about her afterward. Vanessa was really nothing like her rakehell of a husband or her cur of a brother.
Damien was willing to admit he might deliberately have misjudged her. Many of the highborn ladies of the ton were thoroughly selfish and self-centered, only out for themselves. Yet Vanessa seemed quite different.
Her success with his sister had surprised and gratified him. It remained to be seen if her kindness and warmth was truly real, but if her concern for Olivia wasn’t genuine, she was giving an excellent performance.
Her intelligence was surprising as well. He had never expressly sought intellectual stimulation or clever conversation in his usual mistresses. One with a keen mind would be a novelty-a novelty he suspected he would enjoy. He found himself wanting to know Vanessa better, to explore her hidden depths.
Precisely because of his growing doubts about her, though, he’d found himself wrestling with an ironic dilemma: whether or not to hold her to their bargain and make her his mistress.
His seduction of her had begun as an irresistible challenge. Her mask of reserve and her cool disdain for men like him were as tempting as a thrown gauntlet. He’d been so positive he would easily conquer this beautiful, intriguing woman. Yet to his surprise, and perhaps perplexity, his goal had subtly changed as he’d come to know her over the past few days, while his own deepening interest had only burgeoned.
He was still set on winning their war of wills, of course, yet he wanted more than her grudging submission. He was determined to turn her cool contempt to burning hunger.
Perhaps it was best, Damien acknowledged, his eyes appraising her thoughtfully, to let events unfold in their natural course, to woo her until she lost her wariness of him.
It was tantalizing to contemplate her surrender. It would be a pleasure, showing her passion. Teaching her to desire and to express that desire… Yet a cardinal rule of seduction, Damien reminded himself, was not to overstay one’s welcome. As much as he regretted terminating this intimate interlude, he’d been here long enough for one evening.
With reluctance, he rose to his feet and moved to stand before her. “I shall go now, sweeting, and permit you to rest. I hope you will invite me to return.”
Her look of surprise was quickly masked as she lifted her shoulders in a delicate shrug. “I imagine you are free to come and go as you please, my lord. This is your house, after all. But I shall not await your arrival with bated breath.”
He flashed a slow, wicked grin. “I look forward to the day when you give me an entirely different response.”
Deliberately then, he reached out and brushed a finger lingeringly across her cheek, as much to fulfill his need for physical expression as to accustom her to his touch.
The spark that flared between them at even that light contact shocked her more than it did him. Her midnight eyes held a startlement in their luminous depths that pleased him immensely.
And with that small victory, Damien knew he would have to be content.
At least for now.
His plan for her seduction proceeded apace, with ample opportunities for intimacy. He spent some part of each day in her company, dining with her each evening and occasionally joining her afternoon visits in the gardens with his sister.