“No, not at all. I just believe that remaining single is preferable to an ill-advised marriage.” Vanessa gave a rueful smile. “Perhaps I’m not the best person to advise you in matters of the heart, considering how unsuccessful my own marriage was. But while I am no expert, I would think that if you truly loved him-”
“I do! I have always loved him. And he loves me.”
“Still, there are practical matters to consider. Our family, though well connected, has never been rich. Aubrey is often only a short jump ahead of his creditors. You’ve never had to endure financial difficulties, Olivia. If your brother does withhold your fortune because you defy his wishes, you may find it a rude shock. It won’t be easy to give up all this.” She gestured around the bedchamber.
“I don’t care,” Olivia said adamantly. “I’ve had this all my life, and I won’t miss it. I know better than most that wealth cannot buy happiness, or love, or a warm family, or a real home. Aubrey has told me about Fanny and Charlotte, and I want to have sisters like them, like you. I want to be part of your family. I want to be Aubrey’s wife, Vanessa.”
“Well, then,” Vanessa said with complete sincerity, “you shall.”
Satisfied the girl truly was in love, Vanessa refrained from voicing her other concerns. Damien could prevent the marriage simply by putting a bullet through Aubrey.
Even if he refrained from physical violence, he still possessed a powerful financial leverage. Olivia didn’t know the whole story about Aubrey’s utter indebtedness to her brother, Vanessa reflected, or about the bargain Damien had made with herself to redeem those debts in exchange for her becoming his mistress. The Rutherford estates might still be forfeit. If Damien wished, he could renege on his bargain and carry out his planned vengeance, claiming all of Aubrey’s possessions, including his family seat. Then Olivia would have no home at all.
Vanessa pressed her lips together as she tried to convince herself that her worry was groundless. Damien might be a wicked rake, but she didn’t believe he was dishonorable. As long as she performed satisfactorily as his mistress, then he was obliged to uphold their agreement.
It was almost a relief to learn Damien expected a party of friends the following evening, and that Cook had been given orders to prepare a sumptuous dinner. Perhaps, Vanessa hoped, the company might help to alleviate the dark mood. And if Damien was occupied with entertaining, he would have less opportunity to do her brother bodily harm.
Rising early the next morning, she found Damien at the breakfast table before he rode out for the day. When she questioned him about the identity of his guests, he responded with evident reluctance.
“They are fellow members of the Hellfire League. Regrettably, I couldn’t avoid the obligation. They’re on their way to a hunting box near here and mean to stop overnight. It’s just as well that Olivia is indisposed.”
He meant, Vanessa supposed, that he didn’t want his rakish friends near his innocent young sister.
“Do you wish me to attend dinner?” she asked.
“Only if you care to.”
“Is there a reason I shouldn’t?”
He raised a sardonic eyebrow. “I doubt you will find my dissolute friends to your taste.”
She responded in the same cool tone. “Possibly, but this could be an opportunity to test my progress under your excellent tutelage. And the acquaintance might prove beneficial to my new career. Your friends are precisely the sort of patrons I need to attract, are they not?”
Damien stared at her a long moment. Then he shrugged. “You must do as you wish. After dinner we will likely break out the cards, and we always play for high stakes. As you say, the experience could prove useful.”
Despite his feigned indifference, Damien intensely rued his friends’ intended visit. Ordinarily he greatly enjoyed the entertainment and camaraderie his Hellfire companions offered. In years past he’d been ripe for any diversion, no matter how outrageous or wild. Perhaps his idea of diversion had changed, but the amusements that had once held his interest now seemed shallow and tasteless.
His change of heart was due partly to a newfound sense of responsibility, which had emerged after Olivia’s accident. Naturally he didn’t want his young sister exposed to the likes of Lord Clune or the other rakehells who made up the association. Yet it was Vanessa, rather than Olivia, he felt the greater need to protect. Clune had already made several probing remarks regarding Vanessa’s availability. Introducing her to a gathering of libertines would only make her fair game for their propositions and advances.
Damien clenched his teeth. He had agreed to teach Vanessa how to attract a rich patron, but he was damned if he would support her scheme any longer.
His dark mood hadn’t improved by that afternoon when his friends arrived. Clune was in high spirits, however, laughing over a practical joke he’d played on Lord Lambton, who owned the hunting box that was their eventual destination.
“Lambton will be detained, I’m afraid,” Clune told Damien. “It seems he woke up naked in Hyde Park this morning after an evening of carousing. Somehow he was mysteriously transported there during the night, bed and all. Regrettably he caught a chill walking home with only a bedsheet to cover him. But I intend to act as host in his place.”
Of the eleven gentleman who accompanied Clune, all were well known to Damien except for one newcomer, an American cousin of the Earl of Wycliff. Nicholas Sabine reportedly ran a shipping empire in Virginia and was visiting England to finalize several lucrative trade agreements. Because of his noble familial connections, he’d been extended an invitation to join the Hellfire League.
“It’s generous of you to allow a stranger to impose on your hospitality, Lord Sinclair,” Sabine said when they were introduced.
“It is no imposition,” Damien returned easily. “And you can’t be considered a stranger if Jeremy vouches for you.”
“I do indeed vouch for him,” Clune drawled. “The chap’s a good enough sort, even if he is a Yank and in trade. His latest shipment of Jamaican rum is prime stock, I assure you.”
Sabine took no offense at the good-natured laughter that followed and, in fact, seemed to fit in well with the company. Tall, athletic, and fair-haired, he had the look of an adventurer, with the bronzed complexion of a seafarer and a dark-eyed gaze that suggested a keen intelligence.
He kept the lazy fire in those dark eyes banked throughout the early evening when the gentlemen gathered in the drawing room before dinner. But then the talk turned to the impressment of American sailors by the British Navy. From his pithy comments, it was clear the subject had struck a nerve in their American guest.
Damien was about to shift the discussion to less dangerous waters the very moment Vanessa chose to join them.
The conversation came to an abrupt halt as the gentlemen rose eagerly to their feet.
She wore a gown of ice-blue lutestring that Damien had purchased for her on their recent visit to London, one that showed her superb figure to advantage and accented her dark beauty. When he introduced Lady Wyndham around, he was acutely aware of the male glances of admiration and speculation she received.
Clime’s covetous looks in particular roused his ire, and it was all Damien could do to keep his expression impassive and his fists at his side.
The tension inside him remained high when they went into dinner. From the far end of the table he watched as Vanessa charmed the company. Apparently she was acquainted with several of the gentlemen from the days of her marriage, and she seemed to have no difficulty upholding her end of a lively conversation.
She showed a remarked interest in what the American Nicholas Sabine had to say-whether it was America or Sabine himself she found fascinating, Damien couldn’t tell. He recognized his own jealousy, however, and did his best to keep it under control.