Your Wicked Ways

  Helene saw what he meant. She hadn’t even remembered the existence of Rees’s brother Tom. It wasn’t fair to him.

  “I’m not a very good earl,” Rees said, “but damn it, I suppose you and I could make a child without too much trouble, and at least I would have done my duty.”

  Helene bit her lip. “Esme says it only takes one time,” she heard herself say.

  Rees put his hands on her shoulders. “Right. So would you mind giving up Mayne and allowing me to father the child instead?”

  “All right,” she said, swallowing. It was rather disappointing, but she knew perfectly well that once Mayne had reached a certain point, she wouldn’t have liked it any more than she did with Rees, years ago. So what was the difference, really?

  Then she realized that Rees was staring at her. “Your hair’s gone,” he said.

  Helene tossed her head, and felt the pure glory of weightlessness again. “I cut it all off.”

  “And where did you get that gown? No wonder I found Mayne in here with you. That gown is a siren call to rakehells.”

  Helene resisted the impulse to cover her breasts with her hands. Mayne had said they were beautiful. “If you’re going to laugh at my chest, why don’t you get it out of the way immediately,” she said coolly.

  “I’m not,” he said, his voice rather strangled with surprise.

  Helene looked down at her gown. It was already crumpled by the exertions of the evening, so she needn’t worry about taking it off and further exposing her inadequacies. “I suppose we might as well simply get it over with,” she said, turning and walking back to the couch. “Are you going to remove your shirt?”

  He followed her and stood looking at her as she lay down. “Are you certain that you wish to do this, Helene?”

  She actually smiled. “Yes. I think you’re right. It’s such a relief not to have to pretend with you. I’m not going to enjoy this much, but I would be very, very grateful if we could make a child.”

  “I wish that wasn’t the case for you,” Rees said.

  But Helene’s eye had been caught by something else. “I’d forgotten that it was quite so large,” she said faintly.

  He blinked and looked down.

  “Could we get this over as quickly as possible?” she said, feeling rather dizzy. She never liked pain.

  Rees carefully lowered himself onto the couch. He didn’t wear any kind of scent, unlike Mayne, who smelled faintly of some male fragrance. Rees was horribly careless about his style of dress, but he did bathe every day, and so there was always a combination of soap and, well, Rees.

  He was just as heavy as she remembered. She wriggled a little in protest, and then gasped when she felt his hand between her legs. “What are you doing?”

  “I just have to make sure—” his voice sounded very husky now. And his fingers—Helene gasped again. Little lightning strokes went down her legs. But then his fingers were gone and then he presented himself in their place.

  He was braced on his hands, looking down at her. A lock of hair had fallen over his forehead. “I’ll make this as fast as I possibly can, Helene. I’m sorry for the pain of it. I always was, you know.”

  “I know that,” she whispered, tucking the hair back behind his ear. Rees wasn’t all bad.

  He started to push inside and Helene almost stopped him. But she bit her lip instead. Really, the fear was worse than the pain.

  In fact…

  In fact, the pain didn’t really seem to be there. There was a feeling of stretching that wasn’t entirely pleasant. But it wasn’t really unpleasant either. He managed to push his way right to the back of her, and Helene couldn’t help it; she wriggled again.

  There was a scrabbling noise at the door and the door handle turned. Helene went rigid. She could hear a female voice raised in fury. “I’m certain that I left my reticule next to the harpsichord.”

  “I’m sorry, Madam,”—that was surely the voice of Lady Hamilton’s butler—“if you will just come this way for a moment, I will look for the spare key.”

  “Hurry up,” she hissed at Rees.

  “Does it hurt very much?” he asked, not moving.

  “Not so very much,” she said, riddled with anxiety. “Rees, do make haste! The butler will return in a moment with another key.”

  “No, he won’t,” Rees said, and there was a thread of amusement in his voice now. “He said that to warn us to leave.”

  “Well, let’s comply shall we?” Helene snapped. There was something about having Rees there, between her legs, that gave her the oddest feeling. It wasn’t anything she had ever experienced before. She felt edgy, as if she wanted to move against him, though what an odd thing that would be! Everyone knows that gentlemen do all the necessary moving.

  “All right,” Rees said, and he seemed to be talking between clenched teeth. “I hope this doesn’t pain you too much, Helene.”

  “It’s quite all right,” she said. “Just—just…”

  But she lost track of that thought. For he’d withdrawn and then pushed his way slowly back against her, and it did the oddest things to her stomach. It felt quite—well—it wasn’t good exactly. Helene clutched his shoulders and felt a huge bulge of muscle as he braced himself and lunged forward again. It seemed to be going fairly easily now, as well as she could judge it.

  The only problem was a slight burning sensation—probably friction, as when two ropes are pulled together. It must be because he was going so quickly. That must be it.

  “Almost there, Helene,” Rees said, “sorry,” and the guttural sound of his voice did it again, gave her that odd liquid feeling in her legs, a feeling that made her want to buck up against him.

  At that moment Rees positively lunged toward her and Helene couldn’t help it, a little cry flew from her throat. It wasn’t due to pain. Then she braced herself because she remembered quite well that he would flop on top of her like a beached whale and she would lose all the air in her lungs, but he didn’t.

  “Oh God, Helene, did it hurt that much?” he said a moment later, putting his lips on her forehead for a moment. “I heard you cry out.”

  “No,” she said, feeling queerly as if she were going to weep. “It didn’t.”

  “You needn’t pretend. That’s the one thing that makes me a better choice than Mayne, remember?”

  But Helene didn’t say anything. It hadn’t hurt. She couldn’t say what it did feel like. He seemed to have shrunk, though, which was good. Rees withdrew and then sat on the edge of the couch to draw his smalls back on. He ran a hand up her slender thigh. “You have beautiful legs, Helene,” he said, almost absentmindedly.

  Helene raised an eyebrow. He liked something about her? Probably that was because she had made the right decision to keep her gown on and her bosom covered so that he wasn’t faced with those laughably small breasts of hers.

  “Thank you very much for the compliment.” It was all a bit embarrassing. “I think I would like to go home,” she finally said.

  He yanked her gown down over her legs. “Wait here, and I’ll tell the butler to summon my coach.”

  He unlocked the door and walked into the hallway. Helene could hear him brusquely telling the butler to fetch his carriage, as his wife wasn’t feeling well. His wife! How odd it felt to hear him use that word. But, to tell the truth, she’d never felt more of a wife.

  Wives were taken home in fits of exhaustion by their husbands; wives knew the deep pleasure of thinking that they might be carrying a child…. That night, Helene fell into bed with an ecstasy of happiness and anticipation.

  Twelve

  The Saint and the Sinner

  “What in the devil’s name are you doing here, Tom?”

  Tom opened his eyes sleepily. He’d fallen asleep in the library, waiting for Rees to return home. “Came to visit you,” he said, his words almost strangled by an enormous yawn.

  “Well, you can take yourself home again tomorrow morning,” Rees said with a ferocious scowl.

 
Tom had woken up by now and he watched his brother’s back as Rees poured himself a glass of brandy.

  “Do you want something to drink?” Rees tossed over his shoulder.

  “No, thanks.”

  “How could I forget,” Rees said, obviously between gritted teeth, “men of God don’t drink or fornicate, do they?”

  Tom bit back a rejoinder. It had taken him the five years since their father’s death to decide that Rees wasn’t going to visit him, so he would have to make the trip to London. But he’d forgotten what an utter bastard Rees could be when he wanted to. Which was generally when he was unhappy, as Tom remembered it.

  “How’s Helene?” he asked.

  “Fine.” Rees tossed off the brandy.

  “Have you seen her recently?”

  “Saw her tonight,” Rees said, putting down the glass with a thump. “Actually, you’ll like this, Tom, with all your sanctimonious views of matrimony. Helene’s moving back to the house.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.”

  “I don’t know if she will be,” Rees said, turning around and giving Tom a wolfish grin. “I haven’t told her yet. But I’ve decided to get myself an heir.”

  “An excellent provision.”

  “Since you look to be just as hen-hearted as you ever were,” Rees said with brutal precision, eyeing Tom’s collar. “I suppose you haven’t done a thing about getting an heir for the estate. Unless you’re planning to introduce me to a pious hymn-singing wife?”

  Tom’s muscles tensed and then he counted to ten. Just because their father delighted in pitting them against each other didn’t mean that he had to play the game any longer. He couldn’t tell from Rees’s face whether he expected him to lose control, or not.

  Instead, he rose. “I’ve taken the Yellow Bedchamber.”

  “How long are you planning to stay?” Rees asked, pouring himself another drink.

  “As long as I wish to,” Tom said with a flash of the old anger.

  “Why did you come in the first place?”

  “I’m staying until I find my brother again,” Tom said evenly. “That would be the brother I had until I was ten years old. The brother I miss.”

  “I am your brother,” Rees said, with a twist of his lips. “I can’t say exactly when you turned into such a Holy Willie, but if you would put the transformation at ten years old, so be it.”

  Tom shook his head. “I became a priest at twenty-two, Rees. Ten years old is when our father first noticed me.”

  “Well, I’d prefer that you left,” Rees said flatly. “Touching though I find your concern, it’s going to be very tricky with Helene back in the house. I’d rather do the straight and narrow without my moralistic little brother poking his nose into everything.”

  Tom felt a slow burn in his chest and managed to count to seven. “I have never questioned your life. If you hear reprimands in your ears, they come from Father, not from me. And he is dead, Rees. You could stop trying to get his attention any day now. He hasn’t the faintest idea that you have an opera singer living in mother’s bedchamber.”

  There was a chilly moment of silence and then Rees laughed, except it sounded more like a bark than a laugh. “It must be enviable to understand the world in such a clear fashion, Tom. I never think about the old man anymore. Lina lives with me because I want her to. And she lives in mother’s bedchamber because it’s convenient to mine.”

  Tom snorted. “She lives here because you’re still trying to make father spit fire and actually look at you. But the man is dead.”

  “I like Lina,” Rees said softly, rolling her name off his tongue like a delectable sweet. “I gather you met her. And what did you think of her, little brother? Isn’t she a luscious bit of goods?”

  “Are you planning to toss her out the door tomorrow to make room for Helene?” Tom asked, not trying very hard to keep censure from his voice.

  “That’s the way of the world.” Rees shrugged.

  “Where will she go?”

  “A dissolute man like myself doesn’t worry himself with trifles, does he? Probably to the streets, brother. That way, if you were very lucky, you could whisk her off to some charitable home for wayward ladies.”

  “Your attempts to bait me are a poignant reminder of how much Father meant to you,” Tom observed.

  Rees narrowed his eyes. “So do give me the churchman’s views. What does one do with a discarded mistress? Wait! I wasn’t supposed to commit adultery, was I? How could I forget that little detail?”

  Tom turned toward the door. “I imagine you know precisely where your Lina will go after you turn her out. I can’t think why we need to discuss it.” He paused and grappled with his temper for a moment. And lost. “I don’t know how you can live with yourself, debauching a girl like that.”

  “I continue to do my best to live up to my family reputation. As do you. Couldn’t you take that infernal dog collar off even when you were making a trip to the big bad city?”

  “I am a vicar,” Tom said, shrugging.

  “I suppose if you removed the collar, you’d lose the authority to hand out moralities like sweets at Christmas, would you? I wouldn’t want all that talent of yours to be wasted.” Rees’s eyes would have set the room on fire, were it physically possible. “I’ve just changed my mind, and it’s all due to you, brother. I’ll keep that poor debauched girl here even when Helene returns. She can stay in mother’s bedroom, where she belongs. I need Lina close enough so that I can tup her at a moment’s notice, wouldn’t you say?”

  Tom paused, hand on the doorknob. He could hardly speak, he was so angry. “And Helene?” he managed. “Your wife? I thought you planned to get an heir, brother.”

  “I shall,” Rees said casually. “I’ll put Helene on the third floor, up where the nursery is. That will nicely symbolize her role in the household.”

  Tom yanked open the door and stalked out. He doesn’t mean it, he thought. He can’t mean it. He’s just unable to be himself. Damn Father. And when the Reverend Holland brought himself to use a word like damn, he really meant it.

  Tom managed to make it into the hall and start up the stairs without going back and throwing himself at Rees until they hit the ground in a rolling pile of fisticuffs, which was exactly what his brother wanted him to do. Rees was never any good at talking out grievances; he preferred to rush into action. It was Tom who had given Rees his broken nose; Rees who had blackened Tom’s eye not once but three times.

  And it was their father who applauded from the sidelines, feeding the fire with judiciously placed little barbs that pitted his godly and his ungodly son against each other. Except they weren’t that, they were never that.

  I never wanted to be the godly one, Tom told himself. Not if it was at the expense of my big brother, who had to become my opposite.

  He stuck his head into the nursery and looked in on Meggin. He hadn’t been able to get her onto a bed. Finally he had given her a sheet and she had arranged it into a nest in the corner. She seemed to be sleeping peacefully, so Tom returned to his own room with a sigh. If things were different, he could have been the one nestled up to a songbird like Lina.

  He couldn’t quite imagine it. Dog collar or no dog collar, a woman like that would never want him.

  Thirteen

  An Odd Household, Indeed

  Rees stamped his way down to breakfast in a fit of irritation. Tom had to be booted from the house directly. The maddening comments he had made the previous evening stuck in Rees’s mind like a burr. Rees actually found himself up in the middle of the night, wondering whether Lina’s presence in his house had anything to do with their dead father, until he decided that Tom, as usual, was being overdramatic. Reading had addled his brother’s brain, or so their father always—Father! What on earth was he doing even thinking of the man?

  He pushed open the door to the breakfast room with a snap and then stopped short. Lina was sitting at the head of the table. Thank goodness, she appeared to have decided to dress hersel
f this morning, instead of appearing in negligee, as was her custom. Even more startling, next to Tom was a small girl who looked to be his image.

  “You didn’t tell me that you had a child!” he said, staring at the girl and then at his brother. She had precisely the same sweet expression as had Tom when he was a boy. They were two of a kind; Tom had obviously sprouted a hymn-singing four-year-old, if there was such a thing. His mind spun: Tom, father of an illegitimate child?

  “This is Meggin,” Tom said, his hand touching the child’s head for a moment. “She’s not my daughter.”

  Meggin looked up at Rees. “I belongs to Mrs. Fishpole.”

  “Belong,” Tom corrected her.

  Of course. Meggin must be one of Tom’s strays. It was always animals when he was young; one might have guessed that he’d move past livestock once he became a vicar. Rees walked into the room, nodding at Leke to give him a plate of coddled eggs.

  “You have an excellent cook,” Tom said cheerfully.

  “I gather you have met my brother?” Rees asked Lina, dropping into a chair to her right. She nodded around a piece of dry toast. She must have decided to go on a thinning plan again, a move he usually deplored because it turned her into a shrew. Truthfully, though, if you compared Lina’s and Helene’s bodies, Lina did look a bit overly round. Not lumpish, exactly, but her waist must be twice the size of Helene’s.

  Rees had always thought that it was best to get over rough ground as lightly as possible. Brutal honesty had generally worked for him in the past, although not, he had to admit, with any consistency during his marriage. “I’ll be bringing Helene back to the house later,” he announced, without fanfare. Then he forked up some eggs.

  “You can’t have really meant what you said last night?” Tom said slowly.