Sweet Temptation Page 2

  “I’m on time,” Gavin said without a greeting. “Bear that in mind when you start in damning everything about me.

  “I’ve always given you credit for punctuality,” remarked his father languidly. “It’s your unwillingness to come to this house under any except the most compelling circumstances that I complain of.”

  “Can you blame me?”

  “I have, frequently.” Gavin smiled without humor.

  'That was a foolish question. I shall try to do better.”

  “If you would only make such a promise with respect to the manner in which you lead your life, I should be much more pleased.”

  “I don’t propose to discuss my life with you.”

  “Did you and your ladylove part on less than cordial terms this morning?” the Earl taunted.

  Gavin turned on his father with biting anger. “I spent the night in my own bed.” The Earl’s eyebrows rose questioningly. “You didn’t expect me to be in an amorous mood after your intrusion, did you? I was sure putting me out of humor was your primary objective.”

  “It wasn’t, but my interest in your welfare compels me to point out that though your companion appears to be a virtual cornucopia of erotic delight, even greedy children tire of sweets when they have gorged themselves too often.”

  “Is that why you maintain a virtual harem?”

  “The fact that I do not share your taste for provincial widows is no excuse for crudity,” declared the Earl.

  “How do you explain them to mother?”

  “Your mother is a lady—”

  “Then treat her like one,” Gavin exploded. “If I had a wife who accorded me half her forbearance, I wouldn’t mortify her by keeping company with half the whores in London.”

  “Ladies do not inquire into such matters,” the Earl stated in dour disapproval.

  “This is a waste of time,” Gavin said with a snort. He poured himself a glass of wine but didn’t seem to enjoy it. “Don’t you have some beer or ale? Bordeaux is hard to take before noon.”

  “I never try,” remarked his father, as he rang a small bell that rested on the table next to him. Almost immediately a burly servant appeared from behind one of the several doors that led from the chamber.

  “When did you start hiding servants behind doors?” Gavin asked sarcastically.

  “There are those who believe it unwise for me to be alone with you.”

  “Don’t be absurd,” growled Gavin. “I might itch to choke the life out of you, but you’re not worth being hung.”

  “Such filial concern.”

  “And you can drop the pretense of fatherly affection. You don’t like me any more than I like you.”

  “Now that’s where you are wrong. Though I most earnestly deplore nearly every action you have taken since you moved to London, on the whole I am quite pleased with you.”

  “I would have thought those attitudes incompatible.”

  “When you’re a father, you will understand how easily two such contradictory emotions may coexist.”

  “Then I’ll never understand. An heir isn’t important enough for me to live a lie for thirty years.”

  “I hope you will reconsider,” the Earl said quite calmly. “The Parkhaven estates have been handed down from father to son for over five hundred years. It is unthinkable that they should pass out of the family when there is a healthy son capable of siring heirs.”

  “How do you know I haven’t sired several already?”

  “I will not tolerate a pack of bastards sired from blowzy country sluts, fighting over a title that has been unsullied for half a millennium,” decreed the Earl, suddenly losing some of his reserve.

  “Is that all you care about, the title and the name?”

  “I care about a great deal more, but you don’t seem to care for anything at all.”

  “I do,” Gavin assured his father with a mocking smile. “I care for my horses and my clothes, and I often worry whether the champagne will last out the night.”

  “I could cut off your allowance, and force you to accept my wishes in order to live.”

  “I’m lucky at cards,” replied Gavin with a sudden grin. “And my horses win more than their share of races.”

  “It’s inconceivable that a son of mine could actually consider supporting himself by gambling,” the Earl intoned, much as if Gavin had just announced his intention of becoming a highwayman. “Does the Parkhaven name mean nothing to you?”

  “Not a damned thing. And after I’m gone, anybody who wants it can have it.”

  “Lochknole will not leave my family,” vowed the Earl, with such vehemence that Gavin was surprised into regarding him more closely.

  “How are you going to manage that?” Gavin took a swallow from the mug of ale that had been set down before him.

  “Do you care for your mother’s happiness?” Gavin stopped in mid-swallow. The Earl watched him closely, but Gavin finished his swallow and set the mug back on the tray before answering.

  “I’m surprised you don’t choke when you mention her,” he replied, barely able to maintain his attitude of unconcern.

  “If you won’t consider marrying for the sake of the family name, perhaps you will consider it for her.”

  “She’d never ask it of me.”

  “I don’t think you quite understand me,” his father said very deliberately, watching Gavin intently all the while. “Your mother would very much like to see you surrounded by your children, but though she might urge you to take a wife, I’m convinced she’s too kindhearted to require it of you. I, on the other hand, have no such reluctance.” The Earl favored his son with an enigmatic smile. “Your willingness to accommodate me in this matter would insure your mother’s comfort.”

  “Mother has survived nearly twenty years without your consideration. She sure as hell can get along without it now.”

  “You always were an unreasonable child,” the Earl observed irritably, “but it is quite possible that I will find myself without the resources to provide for her care.”

  Gavin took an impatient swallow from his ale. “You can take care of mother out of her own fortune.”

  “I don’t know when, or if, I will receive any more revenues from Scotland.”

  “Then use your own money.”

  “Most of my income derives from Edinburgh, which was captured in September. The rest is tied up in ventures supported by the money of an old friend who came with me from Scotland.”

  Gavin regarded his father cynically, unmoved and indifferent. “This is the first I’ve heard of that. How do I know you’re not lying again?”

  “Do you think I’m proud of having been born a pauper?” his father said quietly, his voice vibrating with unspoken rage. “Do you think I want it known that if the Raymond money were withdrawn, a business organization I have worked more than half my life to build would collapse tomorrow?” Carlisle breathed deeply and took a few seconds to calm himself.

  Gavin was astonished. He was used to his father’s anger, but he’d never seen him reveal this deeply buried rage; yet he’d done so twice in less than thirty minutes.

  “But if this Raymond wants his money, my marrying won’t make him change his mind.”

  “Raymond died ten years ago.”

  “So?”

  “He left everything to his daughter, and he left his daughter in my care.”

  “I still don’t see the problem.”

  “Sara Raymond will turn twenty-one in less than a month. When she does, the money may pass beyond my control.”

  “But your Scottish estate—”

  “Don’t you ever take your nose out of that female’s bosom?” the Earl demanded with tightly controlled anger. “This upstart Stuart prince has conquered Edinburgh, invaded England, and is marching toward London at this very moment. Do you think he’s going to allow me, a loyal follower of George II, or you, a boon companion to his sons, to hold estates virtually at his back gate?”

  But Gavin wasn’t listening
. “Isn’t she the female who used to spend Christmas with us?” he asked, casting his mind back in an effort to remember.

  “I should have known that a female—any female—would always command your attention, even in the face of the impending fall of London.”

  Gavin flushed with hot anger, but he refused to be baited.

  “If you are referring to Miss Raymond, I did invite her to spend a few holidays with us, before your mother’s health became too fragile.”

  “That chit’s as skinny as a starved chicken, and ugly into the bargain.”

  “She has grown into a lovely woman, very much like her mother.”

  “I’m still not going to marry her or any other female of your choosing.” Gavin picked up his ale and stalked over to the fire; he stared into its depths for some moments.

  “Mother seems to be better,” he said at last. “I believe she’s sorry she came to London.”

  “Georgiana has never once left Estameer without making me feel that I was tearing her away from her only child,” stated the Earl, a hardness slipping into his voice. “She doesn’t love anything so much as she loves those barren hills.”

  “She draws her strength from those hills,” explained Gavin. “We both do.”

  “Then I trust you are both sufficiently fortified. I fear you shall need all your resources in the coming months.”

  “What are you talking about now?” demanded Gavin, weary of the duel of wills.

  “Just of what may happen if you continue to disregard my warning.”

  “I might listen if you’d stop trying to make me believe you’re worried about mother or your fortune slipping away. If England suffered rebellion, invasion, and a plague, you’d still come out with a profit.”

  “Then listen to this,” the Earl said, in the deadly quiet voice his competitors had long since learned to fear. “Under no circumstances will I allow Lochknole to pass out of this family.”

  “So you said, but I won’t marry your Miss Raymond.”

  “There is still one course of action open to me.”

  “What can you do? You can’t disinherit me.”

  “No.”

  “Well?” Gavin inquired in frustration after a pause. “What in Hades are you going to do?” The Earl gave him a measuring look.

  “You’re supposed to be an intelligent man. Can’t you figure it out?”

  “No.”

  “You will, and when you do, remember I did everything in my power to keep from going to such an extreme.”

  Gavin turned away in annoyance, but long association with his father’s determination to let nothing and no one stand in the way of his reaching his goal caused him to turn back and carefully study that parchmentlike face. It took only a few minutes before the awful idea sprang into Gavin’s head.

  “You wouldn’t?” he ejaculated, slamming down his ale. “Not even you could be such a contemptible swine!”

  “I wouldn’t and couldn’t what?” demanded the Earl. An intense light gleamed in his eyes, but his voice was as calm as ever.

  “Divorce mother,” Gavin said, his face a mask of incredulous rage.

  “I find the idea wholly distasteful,” his father replied deliberately, “but you have given me no other choice. It is quite impossible for your mother to bear any more children.”

  “But that would mean a trial in the House of Lords. It would kill her.”

  The Earl looked squarely into his son’s eyes. “Then there would be no need for a divorce, would there?”

  With an explosion of blind rage, Gavin attacked his father. His charge knocked the chair over backwards, sending them both onto the floor. Before the sound of the crash had stopped reverberating in the high-ceilinged room, before Gavin’s hands had found a let hal grip on the Earl’s throat, all the doors to the room flew open and a half-dozen sturdy men rushed forward to pull a nearly crazed Gavin off his father.

  “You contemptible swine!” Gavin raged helplessly, now held securely by a dozen hands.

  “Think of me as you please,” panted his father as he attempted to put his person in some order, “but I will have an heir of my loins, be it through you or a son I have yet to sire. The decision is yours.”

  “You son-of-a-bitch!” Gavin roared. “I’ll see you in hell for this!”

  Chapter 3

  “I don’t know how she ever learned to play that dratted thing,” Betty marveled to the downstairs parlor maid. “I couldn’t hit that many keys unless I was to fall down on them.”

  “Miss Raymond is quite skilled at the harpsichord. Herr Bach says she is his best pupil.”

  “I’m not surprised, not as much as she works at it, but what else has the poor girl got to do with her time?”

  “Not much, I’m afraid. But with her fortune, it won’t matter. She’s bound to marry soon, even though she is a little old.”

  “Twenty is a perfect age for marrying,” insisted Betty. “Though how she’s to find a proper husband from this place I don’t know.” This place was Miss Adelaide Rachel’s Seminary for Young Women, and the only unattached males allowed across the threshold were younger sons, boys in nearly every instance, who were forced to accompany their parents on one of the two painfully formal visits allowed each boarder per term. They were not the kind of males to attract the attention of a beautiful young heiress, who still dreamed of a fearless Adonis she had not seen in seven years.

  “Surely her guardian will arrange a marriage for her.”

  “Not that one!” Betty sniffed. “He’s not likely to put himself out unless it suits.”

  . “Not many of them do,” her companion observed with a sigh. “They’re not brought up to consider any pleasure but their own.”

  “I guess I’d better stop worrying about what’s none of my concern and tell Miss Raymond she’s wanted in the parlor before Her Holiness has palpitations.”

  “You better not let anyone hear you talking about Miss Adelaide like that,” warned the older woman. “She might turn you off.”

  “Being maid to a gaggle of hoity-toity females is no wonderful thing,” Betty said with a shrug of indifference. “Besides, she wouldn’t have hired me if the pox hadn’t given the place a bad name.” Betty chuckled at some private thought. “I don’t think she trusts me.”

  “Why?”

  “Too tall,” explained Betty. “You’d better not let me keep you from your work. No need for us both to be out of a situation.”

  A short time later, Sara Raymond neared Miss Adelaide’s sitting room with lagging steps. It seemed that her whole life had been dominated by this unbending tyrant, and even though she was almost twenty-one, she still couldn’t approach this formidable woman without quaking inwardly. For months Betty had been telling Sara that she was richer, more beautiful, of higher social standing, and that she ought to stare right back at her. That was easy for Betty to say. She towered over every female in the academy, but Sara had never seen anyone who could intimidate Miss Adelaide, not even the most haughty of parents.

  Sara paused long enough to make sure her plain blue serge dress was neat and straight, then she knocked firmly; the best way to handle an interview with Miss Adelaide was to get it over as quickly as possible. Her discreet knock brought a sharp summons to enter and seat herself in the straight, uncomfortable chair placed directly across from Miss Adelaide.

  Right away Sara knew something was different. Miss Adelaide smiled. It wasn’t an expression that would pass for a smile on the face of an ordinary person, actually it more closely resembled the puzzled grimace of someone suddenly encountering a pungent but not unpleasant odor, but for Miss Adelaide, it was unquestionably a sign of approval.

  “I am the bearer of a message to you from the Earl of Parkhaven,” she began without preamble.

  “Is he ill?” Sara inquired anxiously. The Earl’s visits were rare and never long, but she still remembered her vacations at Estameer with wistful pleasure.

  “No, he is quite well,” responded Miss Adelaide,
with a frown that indicated she would like Sara to remain silent until invited to speak. “However, the Countess is quite unwell, and he is unable to leave her side.”

  “Oh,” Sara said simply.

  “He has asked me to speak to you in his place on a matter of great importance.” Sara began to shake. She had the feeling that her only friends in the world were about to abandon her.

  Miss Adelaide rose from her seat on the enormous sofa and took a chair closer to Sara; that was unusual, too, for Miss Adelaide used the size of the sofa to put her visitors at a disadvantage. Her mouth tightened, much like she’d tasted something sour, and her eyes grew intensely bright; if it had been anyone else, Sara would have said she was bursting with news, but Miss Adelaide would never allow herself to do anything so vulgarly commonplace as burst.

  “The Earl has requested me to advise you that, unless you should be found to have an objection, you are to become the wife of his only son, Lord Gavin Carlisle.” Thinking that she had delivered some wondrous piece of news, Miss Adelaide was justifiably baffled when Sara didn’t so much as blink. She paused briefly, but when Sara continued to stare at her as though hypnotized, she concealed her disappointment and proceeded in a brisk, businesslike manner. “Due to the Countess’s illness, the Earl has deemed it expedient for you to be married as soon as possible. He has instructed me to have you ready exactly one week from today.”

  Sara did not speak, indeed, she could not speak, because the news had literally taken her breath away. She had idolized Gavin ever since she set eyes on him that first Christmas, but she was a sensible girl. She knew he had no partiality for her, that he actually disliked her and thought her rather plain and uninteresting. She had had no occasion to meet him since she was thirteen, but she had not forgotten his stubborn chin or his devil-may-care courage. Whenever she dreamed of being rescued from Miss Adelaide’s by a handsome stranger, she thought of Gavin; whenever she dreamed of being kissed for the first time, she thought of Gavin; whenever she dreamed of nestling securely in the arms of her husband, she thought of Gavin. Yet never once had she actually believed it would happen. Being told point-blank that she was to marry the object of her fantasies at the end of one week left her dazed. She stared before her like an empty-eyed statue.