His Wicked Seduction novel Chapter 38

Horatia took refuge under the desk, never more thankful it was a large bulky beast and not a spindly-legged dainty creation. Tucking her skirts under her, she curled up just as Lucien unlocked the door before moving around to the front of the desk, to block the small bit of open space between desk and floor. Horatia held her breath as her brother opened the study door and entered.

"There you are! I thought perhaps we'd have a game of billiards to pass the time before dinner. What do you say?" Cedric offered hopefully.

Horatia heard Lucien clear his throat. "Uh, yes. Excellent. You go on. I'll be there directly. I just have a letter I need to see to first."

"Are you all right, Lucien? You look a bit flustered."

"Of course. It's a natural reaction to my mother's rantings about marriage, no matter who her current target might be."

Cedric laughed. "That I can well understand. I shall wait for you in the billiard room." She heard the door click shut.

Lucien exhaled a long slow breath. Horatia echoed it with one of her own. She didn't want to think about what would have happened had Cedric found the door unlocked. Lucien helped her out from underneath the desk. He held her still as he inspected her with a critical eye. Then his hands moved to her hair, tucking stray wisps back into place and securing pins.

"Better," he said as he worked.

"Have you had much practice at this?" She regretted the words the moment they left her.

Lucien raised one brow. "Do you wish for me to deny it?"

She could never ask him to deny what he was. She loved all of him, even the wicked parts. "No."

"There. I think that should do." He stepped back to examine her, cool and distant once again. These mood swings of his were impossibly frustrating.

"You can use the secret passage. It opens up down the hall. I apologize. I ought not to have done this to you. You don't deserve to be manhandled in my home. I promise it won't happen again." Before Horatia could find it in her to reply, he was gone.

"That's a promise I wish you hadn't made," she told the empty study.

Horatia waited in Lucien's study and found herself gazing at the bookshelves. There was one section, near the window that caught her eye. Six books were placed neatly in a row, and each title was familiar to her. Among them was Lady Eustace and the Merry Marquess. These particular six titles were a matching set of the books she'd received the last six Christmas holidays. Curious, Horatia crooked an index finger into Lady Eustace's spine and pulled the volume off the shelf. She opened it, finding an inscription on the title page that read "Gave to Horatia Sheridan, 1819." He was documenting his gifts to her? To what end?

She examined the other five books, finding similar notations inside, and each book looked well read. Horatia had the most astonishing vision of Lucien reading each book as she did, as if to try and see what she would experience in each book. It was a decidedly happy thought, to know he took great pains to connect with her, even in such an indirect fashion. The sting of his promise to not repeat his seduction lessened in light of these small treasures.

When Horatia finally left Lucien's study she did not find herself alone in the hallway. Lady Rochester was exiting the chamber across the hall.

"Horatia." She waved for Horatia to come to her. Horatia swallowed uncomfortably as she approached Lucien's mother.

"You're blushing, my dear," Lady Rochester observed. "You needn't worry that I shall press you as to the reason why. I suspect that my son is involved."

"Linus?"

Lady Rochester shot her a look that seemed to ask what genus and species of fool Horatia took her for.

"We both know that you've loved Lucien since you were a child. Let us not deceive ourselves in this any longer. Now, come this way. You and I are going to have a little talk."

"But..."

"Don't protest, Horatia. I'm an old woman and I'm used to getting my way."

Horatia tried not to show her incredulity. Lady Rochester may have been in her fifties but she seemed anything but old. She followed Lady Rochester to a room a few doors away to a small, personal chamber of Lady Rochester's.

"Have a seat, Horatia. For heaven's sake, try not to look so ill. I do not mean to bite you." Lady Rochester seated herself in a pale blue chaise across from her.

"So you are still in love with my son." Horatia didn't reply. "Do you wish to win him?"