To Be Seduced. Stephens Ann Sophia

favors for others. “Don’t be so uncharitable,” Bethany chided gently. “I’m sure Mr. Lawson was most thankful for some broth on such a day. Here, scandalize me with the latest gossip you’ve ferreted out. You always enjoy that.”

      Instead, silence fell between them as they trudged along. A few of last autumn’s leaves whispered across their path, and the afternoon sun cast their shadows ahead of them. Bethany wondered if Gloriana regretted their rash behavior just as the other girl spoke.

      “My brother is visiting for a short while.” Her voice squeaked with excitement. Glory hero-worshiped the dissolute young man twelve years her senior.

      Having made his acquaintance the summer previous, Bethany understood her companion’s feelings. Even she had found it difficult to resist his charming smile and manners, despite observing his shameless flirtations. To her mortification, she recalled wishing that he might indulge in the same disreputable behavior with her.

      “What a pleasant diversion for you. Lady Rothley had not said that he planned to visit,” she said in a tone of polite indifference.

      “Oh, she wouldn’t have,” Gloriana replied airily. “We did not know exactly when he’d be here, as he is kept immensely busy in London.”

      “I can imagine,” Bethany said dryly. According to her mother’s acquaintances, since the ascension of the second King Charles, the city had plunged itself into a plethora of lascivious behavior, drunkenness, and public disorder. A man of Lord Harcourt’s lax ways would find much to occupy himself, most of it immoral.

      The road appeared before them through the manor’s open gate. She hurried between the massive brick and iron posts and turned to wait for the smaller girl to catch up.

      At her side, Gloriana smiled brightly and pointed past Bethany’s shoulder. “Look! I believe that is my brother’s coach down the road.”

      Bethany shook her head at the chit’s transparent attempt at surprise. “For pity’s sake, Glory, why did you not simply tell me your brother awaited you? ’Tis quite unmannerly of you, although I am surprised he did not escort you to the door.”

      Her companion looked sheepish. “I wasn’t sure your mother would admit him after the escapade with your maidservant last summer. I am very fond of Richard and did not wish to subject him to embarrassment. Faith, he swore nothing more happened than a few kisses, and that the girl was willing.”

      Bethany snorted. “Knowing Joan, she proposed the meetings! But it’s true, Mother would scarcely welcome him had he come with you.” She smiled mischievously. “Although it might have been amusing to watch him puncture Mr. Ilkston’s self-importance.” While she could not approve of loose behavior, she appreciated Lord Harcourt’s piercing wit.

      She watched the shabby coach make its way along the rutted road for a moment before adding, “I think we had better go meet him. That contraption looks like it won’t last all the way to the gate.”

      Gloriana nodded and they strolled to meet it. Bethany glanced at her. The younger girl’s mouth was set in a determined line and her usually inquisitive eyes remained fixed on the ground.

      However, when they reached the slow-moving coach and four, the irrepressible sixteen-year-old called out cheerily, “Rickon! I’m back, and look who came with me. Mistress Bethany thought to visit Aunt Rothley.”

      The door swung open, and Lord Harcourt himself stepped down to assist them. Bethany caught her breath. He remained unchanged from last summer. Instead of a periwig, he wore his own hair in long, dark gold waves. The same lazy smile highlighted his strong features as his gaze swept over her with unsettling thoroughness. His assessment reminded her uncomfortably of just how worn her brown cloak and hood were, and how drab she must look beside Gloriana’s fashionable amber dress and black cloak.

      “It is my pleasure to meet you again, Mistress Dallison.” Even his voice unsettled her with its combination of honey over gravel. “Please allow me to convey you to our destination.” He stepped forward in a fluid movement and took her bare hand in his gloved one. Gracefully he bowed over it, brushing her fingers with the barest kiss. They fluttered nervously at the unexpected contact and Bethany swallowed as Lord Harcourt tightened his grip. Feeling the strength and heat through his black leather gauntlets only served to make her blush. From the warmth in her face, it must be bright pink. He smiled and assisted her into the coach.

      “Your hands are cold. We’ll have to find a way to warm them.” He pressed a kiss into her palm, his green eyes glinting at her wickedly. She gasped softly and snatched her hand away. He shrugged and helped Gloriana inside, then settled himself on the seat opposite them.

      She pointedly placed herself as far from him as the cramped space allowed and stared out the window disinterestedly. His clear green eyes shot her an amused glance before he turned his attention to his sister.

      The two of them chatted idly during the brief ride to Rothley Hall. Left to herself, Bethany observed the coach’s interior. Stuffing burst from the cracked leather seats and dark blue paint peeled off the wooden sides. Warped window frames permitted a steady draft of cold air inside, forcing her to keep her hands inside her cape. She thought this must be the worst-sprung vehicle she had ever ridden in. She could not imagine enduring its teeth-rattling bounces for a lengthy journey. Lord Harcourt’s purse must be lean indeed to have resorted to such a miserable conveyance.

      Her ears pricked up when Gloriana teased her brother to fetch her back to London. To her surprise, Lord Harcourt’s brows drew together in unexpected disapproval.

      “That would be quite improper, as you should know. ’Pon rep, I’ve explained it to you often enough.” His sister protested, but he ended the argument with a flat “No.”

      Lifting the window covering, Bethany recognized the stretch of road leading to Rothley Hall. She anticipated sitting by one of Lady Rothley’s warm fires for an afternoon of amusing conversation before having to face her mother.

      Lord Harcourt noticed they had reached their destination as well. He knocked on the top of the coach and it halted.

      “Glory, we’re here.” His serious tone made Bethany turn to look at him. He held his sister’s hands and gazed into her face, now white and frightened, as if he silently asked her a question. It was one she apparently understood, for she gave him a jerky nod of her head in return. “Good girl,” he said softly. “You’ll be well?” She nodded again. To Bethany’s surprise, he opened the door without another word and got out to help them down. Surely he did not mean to have them walk to the Hall from the gate!

      Glory looked over her shoulder with an apologetic expression before stepping out of the coach. Puzzled, Bethany prepared to follow, only to find her way blocked as Lord Harcourt placed an arm across the doorway. “I beg your pardon, my lord, but if we are to walk to the Hall, I should get out of the coach.” Her cold voice clearly displayed her displeasure, but he did not reply.

      Instead Gloriana looked up at her from the road. “Bethany, I am so truly sorry,” she choked out. “Richard said he needed my help and I am obligated to—he’s my brother and he took such care of me after our parents died. Please try to forgive both of us.”

      “Enough, Glory. You must go.” At his flat statement, the girl pulled her hood up and trudged up the drive to her aunt and uncle’s, her cloak wrapped around her. Lord Harcourt turned and leapt up into the coach so quickly that Bethany was forced to sit back down. “I regret to inform you, Mistress Dallison, that you will be coming with me.” He knocked on the roof again.

      “I—beg—your pardon?” Dumbstruck, Bethany scarcely noticed as the vehicle lurched into motion.

      “You will accompany me to my estate in Yorkshire, where we will be married.” His matter-of-fact tone did not stop the air rushing out of her lungs in shock. He looked at her sympathetically. “I’m very sorry, my dear. But I need a great deal of money very quickly, and you are the most accessible heiress of my acquaintance.”

      He continued to observe her minutely during the long pause that ensued.