Unfortunately his best proved sorely lacking. Each time Vanessa’s musical laughter drifted down to his end of the table, Damien felt his teeth clench. And each time she favored one of his guests with a soft, sensual smile, he cursed.
Bloody hell and damnation, that alluring smile was a feminine weapon he had taught her, and she was wielding it with deadly accuracy.
With effort Damien clamped down on the overwhelming urge to spirit her away, out of sight of his lustful friends, but the irony of the situation didn’t escape him. In grooming Vanessa to be the perfect mistress, he had succeeded beyond even his wildest expectations, and his success made him furious.
At the conclusion of dinner, when Lady Wyndham left the gentlemen to their port, they subtly quizzed Damien about her. Yet, contrarily, he refused to satisfy their curiosity about her situation, only repeating that she was acting as his sister’s companion. His guests didn’t linger long but joined her shortly in the drawing room. When Clune pressed for cards, the company made up two tables, one of piquet and one of whist.
Vanessa declined invitations to both games. “I fear the play will be too deep for me,” she demurred with a smile. “But I should be honored to watch.”
She observed the gaming for a while and retired at midnight, despite numerous pleas for her to stay. Damien was glad to see her leave. It had proved difficult with her present, his concentration divided between keeping an eye on her and playing the hands he was dealt.
While the hour grew later, the excellent wine and brandy flowed freely as the gamesters’ luck dried up. One by one, then, the players folded and went to bed, until at last Damien and Clune were the only ones remaining.
It was nearly three A.M., he noted with a glance at the ormolu clock on the mantel. After a few more moments of desultory conversation, Damien realized that Clune had a purpose for remaining behind, and that it concerned Vanessa.
“You were not very forthcoming about your sister’s companion, my friend, which merely served to pique the interest of every last one of us. I can only assume that was your intent-to make us all green with envy.”
“You assume incorrectly,” Damien replied, pouring another two fingers of brandy for his guest.
“I can understand your fascination with Lady Wyndham. That combination of beauty and wit is rare. She is dazzling. But it is hardly fair of you not to give us a sporting chance, Sin. Perhaps you wouldn’t be averse to a small wager.”
“A wager? What did you have in mind?”
“My team of matched grays against the chance to woo Lady Wyndham.”
Damien’s jaw hardened. “She is not my possession.”
“Perhaps not, but you have prior claim to her. I know better than to poach on your fancy piece without your express permission.”
A shaft of anger arrowed through Damien. “She is a lady, Clune, despite present circumstances.”
“Forgive me, your lady, then. I am prepared to raise the stakes, even though I know you’ll drive a hard bargain. Just name your terms.”
“You don’t seem to comprehend,” Damien said softly. “She is not for sale.”
“Every woman is for sale,” his noble guest replied cynically. “The only question is how high her price.”
When Damien made no reply, Clune continued. “Her talents must be remarkable if you’re so set on keeping her for yourself. What has it been, over two months? That must be a record for you. But I should think a man of your exacting tastes will eventually tire even of her.”
Damien stared down at the remaining brandy in his glass, seeing Vanessa’s beautiful eyes in the golden depths. He had begun to doubt he would ever tire of her.
His silence made the earl impatient. “Do I at least have your permission to pursue her once you end the connection?”
“No.”
“No?” Clune raised an eyebrow. “It is not like you to be possessive, Sin. Women are only transient diversions for you, a momentary pleasure. You’ve always been dead set against becoming enamored of your mistresses.”
Damien felt his mouth twist in self-mockery. “So I have.”
His friend studied him for a long moment, before letting out a low whistle. “Never tell me the elusive Lord Sin is finally smitten.”
Damien drained the brandy in his glass, feeling the fire burn his throat. “I won’t tell you, then. You cannot have Lady Wyndham because she is my sister’s companion.”
A grin of wicked amusement spread across Clune’s thin lips. “It seems to me there is more to this tale than you’re letting on. Are you certain you haven’t fallen for her and you simply refuse to admit it?”
Damien met his probing gaze levelly, but his sharp-eyed friend seemed to see straight through him.
Clune gave a chuckle of astonishment. “What a prime jest, the hardest heart among us the first to admit defeat.”
“Aren’t you leaping to conclusions?”
“Am I?” He grinned engagingly, with cheerful malice. “Deny it all you like, but I’ll not credit it.” Shaking his head then, he rose to his feet. “You’d best have a care, man, or you might find even a confirmed bachelor like yourself caught in the parson’s noose.”
He left Damien to his own thoughts, which were suddenly whirling in chaos. Parson’s noose. Marriage?
Until this moment he had never considered the possibility of marriage to Vanessa. Yet, frankly, it was a practical solution to the dilemma she presented…
It even offered advantages, chief of which was that she could remain at Rosewood as companion to his sister. The marriage need only be a formality, which would leave them both free to pursue their own lives.
His eyes shut briefly as he digested the enormity of what he was contemplating. Wedlock. It was better than the alternatives.
He was not about to give her up to the likes of Clune- or any other man, for that matter. The thought of her pleasuring someone else was intolerable. So was the prospect of her earning her living with her body.
Damien flinched. How could he have ever countenanced such a travesty? No, not merely countenanced. Actively encouraged.
The memory of Vanessa’s low voice in the garden flailed him. As an heiress, Olivia has choices I never had. He’d constricted her choices even further by forcing her to become his mistress. And then he’d made certain she developed the sensual skills to attract a wealthy patron so that he could be rid of her and his obsession.
Damien stared blindly down at his glass. Only recently had he begun to admit the depths of the disgrace he’d brought upon her. Shame was a rare experience for him, but he felt it now like a knife inside him. Shame and remorse. He had gravely wronged Vanessa. He’d brought her down to his level, sullied what was left of her good name…
Wedding her would be the surest way to repair her tarnished reputation. To protect her from libertines like Clune.
It would also, Damien reflected grimly, provide a fitting punishment for himself. For it would bind him to his obsession for all time.
He waited until his guests had left the following morning before going in search of Vanessa. He found her in the library, reading. She was curled up on the window seat, her legs tucked beneath her-a position she had adopted so often during their late-night trysts.
A sharp stab of regret twisted inside him. along with a deep sadness. In the past Vanessa would have looked up and smiled. How he missed her smile. Now there was only bitter anger between them.
It was the anger he regretted most. That and losing her friendship. The sweetness was gone; he had deliberately driven it away.
From the doorway Damien watched another moment, his gaze tracing her lovely profile, the delicate curve of her cheek. A strange mix of desire and tenderness filled him, edged sharply by nervousness…
He clenched his jaw at the irony. His Hellfire colleagues would laugh uproariously to see the wicked Lord Sin with trembling knees. But this situation was completely alien to him. In his long and licentious career, he had put propositions to numerous women, but never had he contemplated any step this serious.