CHAPTER ELEVEN

Dressed in a ruby velvet riding habit cut in the fashionable military style, Velvet prodded the fire she had started in the hearth of the widow’s stone house on the outskirts of Hammington Heath. The place was larger than she had expected, slate-roofed and whitewashed, the entire front covered with ivy.

The marquess’s key let her into a cobble-floored interior topped by massive oak beams. The drawing room was immaculately clean, the sofa and chairs before the inglenook fireplace were upholstered in a white and rose floral design that gave the home a cheery warmth.

She poked the fire and watched thin tendrils of flame lick the wood. Holding up her hands to absorb the heat, she listened for the sounds of Jason’s footfalls, but the creaks and groans of the house were all that surfaced.

It was well past two. Had he called her bluff and decided not to come? Was he that certain she would not give him away?

Velvet sighed into the silence. After yesterday’s visit to Castle Running, she had returned to Carlyle Hall to play the part of Avery’s dutiful future bride. Today she had made her excuses, then slipped off to the stables and ordered a horse saddled for her ride to the nearby village.

She fidgeted as she walked to the window, tugging at the gold epaulets on the shoulders of the riding habit. Brass buttons formed parallel rows down the front of the ruby velvet in the manner of a uniform jacket, and she thought of Jason at the ball in his scarlet cavalry tunic.

She peered out the mullioned windows to the rolling green fields beyond. God’s breath, where was he?

“Looking for me, Duchess?” The deep voice rose from behind her and Velvet nearly jumped out of her skin.

“Sweet Jesu! You scared me half to death! How on earth did you get in?”

He was standing at the end of the mantel, one broad shoulder propped negligently against it, yet she didn’t miss the tension thrumming through his tall hard frame.

“Getting in wasn’t all that difficult. By now you should know I’m a man of many talents.” There was something of menace in his voice, though his tone remained soft and even a bit cajoling.

Then he started across the room in her direction and she caught the flash of fire in his eyes. A muscle bunched in his jaw and the hands at his sides were balled tightly into fists. Sweet Lord, he was angry. Furious in fact. The marquess had warned her, but still she was not prepared.

“I-I know you are upset. I suppose you have a right to be angry, but I had to see you.”

“Why?”

“I know who you are.”

He moved closer, his jaw set, his eyes piercing. “You threatened me, Velvet. I don’t like being threatened.”

Her chin went up. “Well, I didn’t especially like being abducted, but that didn’t stop you from carting me away!”

“I had no choice.” He was dressed for riding, in snug buff breeches and a full-sleeved white lawn shirt. His riding coat was tossed over the back of an overstuffed chair.

“So you have acquiesced to my wishes and come here against your will. Did you really believe that I would turn you in?”

His eyes fixed on her face, intense and probing. “I hoped that you would not but I could not be certain. I didn’t think Celia Rollins would stand by and watch me hang, but she would have done so and gladly.”

Velvet rested a hand on his forearm, felt the muscles beneath his shirt quivering with tension. “Lady Brookhurst betrayed you, but I would not. I do not believe you killed your father. I believe you loved him. I want to help you prove your innocence.”

She stepped away from him, lifted her skirts, and swept into a deep, graceful curtsy. “… Your grace.”

Jason just stood there. The long muscles in his throat constricted, but he did not speak. For a silent moment he held her gaze with his beautiful bright blue eyes. A fine tremor shook his hand as he reached for her, entwined her fingers with his own, and urged her to her feet. Then he swept her into his arms.

“Ah, God, Duchess. No one has called me that in a very long time.”

Velvet clung to him, sliding her arms around his neck, feeling his cheek pressed to hers. Tears stung her eyes and she blinked to keep them from falling. “I want to help you. That’s why I came. I want you to tell me what happened so I can find some way to help.”

He only shook his head. “I appreciate your concern, but there is nothing you can do, and involving yourself in my affairs would only cause you trouble. It could even be dangerous.”

She pulled a bit away, lifted her eyes to his face. “I want to know about it, Jason. Please, won’t you tell me?”

Long moments passed. Each tick of the clock seemed to echo in the room. With a weary sigh, he turned away, brushing back a lock of his hair as he led her over to the sofa. He took a seat beside her.

“It’s still difficult for me to speak of. I was so naive back then. I never even suspected.” He shook his head. “They planned it from the start, Avery and the countess. They—”

“Avery! Avery is the man who killed your father?”

He nodded. “What did you think?”

“I thought … that perhaps he was duped, that there was a mistake of some sort that convinced him of your guilt.”

“There was no mistake. Celia wanted money. Avery wanted control of the dukedom. They had decided to get rid of both my father and me, perhaps not at the same time, but they were simply waiting, looking for the right moment to put their plan into motion. That night when my father left to follow me to the inn, Avery realized what was happening. He saw a golden opportunity and seized it.” He laughed bitterly. “I made it all so easy for them. I fell in love with Celia and I couldn’t see the danger. I couldn’t think of anything but her.”

Velvet felt a vague stirring she recognized as jealousy. Her chest hurt to think of Jason in love with the beautiful countess. It was ridiculous, but the knifing pain remained.

“I know you were thrown into prison. How did you manage to escape?”

“I didn’t.”

“But—”

“The first night I was there, a group of inmates attacked me. They wanted my clothes, my shoes. In Newgate they were worth a small fortune. They beat me nearly senseless, stripped me naked, then left me with only the rags they discarded. One of the men was bigger than the others, tougher. He ended up with most of my things.”

He glanced off for a moment, caught up in his painful recollections. “Unfortunately, he didn’t get to wear them very long. Later that night, the man was attacked and knifed to death, his face badly disfigured during the scuffle. When the guards found him, they assumed the man was me—he was the same size, had the same color hair.” He shook his head. “I’ve often wondered if Avery might have been behind the attack. Lucien was trying to stop the hanging. Avery wanted me dead. He isn’t a man to take chances.”

He shrugged those powerful shoulders, the sinews tightening beneath his white lawn shirt. “I suppose I’ll never know.”

Velvet’s heart went out to him. “Oh, Jason.” She wanted to touch him, to hold him, to banish the haunted look that darkened his handsome face. Instead she waited for him to finish, her chest aching, her throat clogged with tears for the pain he must have suffered.

He stared off toward the window. “That night, I escaped the hangman, but there were times I wished that I had died instead. In the morning, when they came looking for the prisoner named Hawkins, the man who was killed, I took his place. They transported me to the Colonies. I slaved in the heat and the bugs for four long years before I got away. The only thing that kept me going was the vow I’d made to come back here.”

Velvet didn’t realize she was crying till she felt the tears on her cheeks.

Jason leaned toward her. “It’s all right.” A long dark finger brushed away the wetness. “What happened is all in the past.” He tipped her chin with his hand. “And I told you, there is nothing you can do.”

Velvet looked into those blue, blue eyes. “You can’t be certain of that. I’m staying at Carlyle Hall for one more day. Time enough to have a look around, ask a few questions. I found out about you. Perhaps I’ll learn something else that might be of value.”

“And perhaps your questions will stir up Avery’s suspicions. If that happens, I’m as good as dead.”

A shiver rippled through her but she forced it away. “The odds are just as good that you will do something to alert him.”

“I am not fool enough—”

“Point in fact—your appearance at the costume ball. That could have been disastrous. What if someone besides me had recognized you?”

“I was wearing a mask,” he said stubbornly.

“Yes, you were, little good it would have done if someone had caught you going into Avery’s study. And I am not such a fool that I would not take care. You must let me try, Jason. Surely it’s apparent the longer you delay in finding proof, the greater the odds of your being discovered.”

The line of his mouth grew grim. “More than apparent, I assure you.”

“Let me help you, Jason.”

He only shook his head. “No. I don’t want you hurt.”

“Curse you—I want to help.”

“I said no, Velvet, and that is what I mean.”

Her chin inched up. “Do you really believe you can stop me?”

Jason’s jaw clamped. Anger swept over his features. “You little minx—you are the most willful, stubborn woman I have ever met!”

“I am going to help you, your grace, whether you wish me to or not!”

“Dammit—I should have thrashed you harder!” He reached out and gripped her shoulders, his eyes snapping fire. A long moment passed but neither of them moved. With a groan of defeat, Jason hauled her against him. “But in truth, I would far rather kiss you.” He captured her mouth in a ravaging kiss, his lips moving hotly over hers, urging them to part for him.

She should have been angry, should have shoved him away, but she clung to him instead. She relished the heat spearing through her, the feel of his arms around her, the taste of him in her mouth. His tongue tangled with hers, stroking deeply, possessing her as if he owned her. The kiss was hard, rough, hungry. Heat fanned out from the base of her throat, crept over her shoulders, slid into her breasts, making them swell inside her gown.

Jason deepened the kiss, taking her mouth so thoroughly she felt faint. Heat radiated into her stomach, spread out across her skin. His hand moved down to her breast, cupping the fullness, molding it, making the nipple tighten. He worked the brass buttons on her bodice, parted the fabric and slid his hand inside. Warmth invaded her, a melting sensation that wrenched a small mew of pleasure from her lips. His palm abraded her nipple and it tightened even more, forming a painful peak beneath his hand.

Velvet heard him groan.

He was kissing the arch of her throat, pulling the pins from her hair, shoving his fingers into the heavy dark mass that tumbled around her shoulders.

“Jason…” she whispered, but his fiery kiss muffled her weak protest and his hands continued their assault. He slid the bodice of the gown off her shoulders, then the strap of her white lawn chemise fell away. The second strap slipped off and he eased down the fabric, baring her to the waist.

“Lovely,” he whispered, his hot gaze devouring her naked flesh. When he lowered his head and took a nipple into his mouth, a ripple of heat scorched through her.

“Good sweet God…” The words slipped out, but she didn’t try to stop him. Instead her body arched upward, pleading for more, trembling when he laved the stiff crest with his tongue. Her fingers dug into his shoulders and hard muscle bunched beneath her hand. She could feel his heart, thundering beneath his flat male nipple, and her touch made the tiny peak grow hard. She trembled and his hand moved lower, shoving up her skirts, working to bunch them around her waist. He swore at her whalebone panniers, smaller for riding but a barrier to his purpose just the same.

His head came up. He dragged in a great breath of air. “We have to stop, Velvet. If we do not, in a few more moments, I won’t be able to.”

But she didn’t want him to stop. She was in love with Jason Sinclair. She had tried to deny it, but the moment she had seen him, the moment he had touched her, she knew it was the truth. He was a criminal on the run, a man accused of murder. Any hour he could be discovered. If he was, his life would be forfeit.

She pulled the thin black ribbon that tied back his glossy dark hair, slid her fingers into the heavy strands, and dragged his mouth down to hers for a kiss. “Make love to me, Jason. Please. I don’t want this to end.”

Jason groaned. He shook his head even as his hand gently fondled her breast. “I want you, Velvet. I can’t remember wanting a woman more, but it isn’t … we can’t…”

“Please…” she whispered, afraid that if she didn’t grasp the moment, seize this last chance to discover true passion, the time would never come again. Jason kissed her, fiercely yet gently. When she opened the buttons on the front of his shirt and slid her hands inside, a shudder rippled through him and she knew that she had won.

With a hand that was suddenly unsteady, he began to unfasten her clothes, releasing the tabs on her skirt and panniers and easing them away, then bending to remove her shoes and stockings. In minutes he had stripped her bare and pulled off his shirt and riding boots. Only his tight brown breeches remained. They covered the thick bulge of his sex, but as he eased her down on the sofa, its hardness pressed into her thigh.

She should have been frightened but she found that she was not. He was a big man and he was powerful, but somehow she knew he would take extra care not to hurt her. His hands caressed her breasts, stroking them, teasing the ends until her body simmered with pleasure. She whimpered when he moved lower, cupping the mound of her sex, his fingers lacing through the curly red-brown hair at the apex of her legs.

The feeling was so new, so intense, she stiffened a little, afraid for a moment. Jason kissed her again, his mouth and tongue gently persuasive, and her fear began to recede. Warmth replaced hesitation, spirals of heat moved over her flesh and coiled low in her belly.

“Jason…” She moaned when he parted the slick damp folds at her core and a long dark finger slid inside her.

“God, you feel good.” A thorough kiss followed, his tongue thrusting into her mouth with the same sensuous rhythm as his hand. She shifted restlessly, feeling the fire, arching against him. Wanting him, heedless of the consequences.

Suddenly he paused, his gaze moving up to her face. He was breathing hard, his eyes glowing with a hunger he no longer tried to hide. “We have to stop this, Velvet. I won’t marry you. Even if I wasn’t facing the gallows, I wouldn’t wed you. I can’t. Stop me now, before it’s too late.”

Her heart twisted painfully. “Y-you … you’re married? You already have a wife?”

He shook his head, moving the curtain of dark hair across his shoulders. “No.”

He didn’t love her. He wouldn’t wed her. The thought made her ache inside. Still, she wanted him, wanted desperately to know this one moment of passion. “Then make love to me. It’s what we both want.”

His features darkened. His jaw clamped. “There are things you don’t know, things I can’t explain. You’ll be sorry, Velvet. You’ll regret it. Stop me now while I’m sane enough to listen.”

“I want this, Jason.”

His eyes bored into her. “You don’t know the kind of man I am, the things I’ve done.”

“I don’t care!”

He stared down into her face. “I’ve learned to be greedy, Velvet. I learned years ago to take what I wanted in order to survive.” He captured her chin with his hand. “You may regret this but I assure you, sweeting, I won’t.”

He took her mouth in a savage kiss while his hand cupped her breast, kneading it fiercely, teasing the end. In minutes, she was on fire for him, writhing and moaning as he stroked her damp passage once more.

“You’re ready for me, Velvet. Wet and slick. I’ll go easy, try not to hurt you. Trust me, love. Let me make it good for you.”

She did trust him, she realized. More than any man she had ever known. “Yes…” she said softly, gazing into the harsh male beauty of his face. “Yes, please, Jason.”

He left her a moment to shed his breeches, then joined her on the sofa, spreading her legs and settling his tall frame between her thighs. He kissed her again, taking her mouth while his fingers worked their magic, then he eased his hardness inside. He didn’t stop till he reached the barrier of her innocence.

“I’m a selfish bastard, Velvet,” He kissed the side of her neck. “’Twas a sad day for you when I carried you away.” He plunged deeply and Velvet cried out, but the sound was muffled by his lips.

An instant of pain shot through her, a searing moment that had her clamping her teeth against it. As quickly as it came, it was gone. Jason loomed above her, resting on his elbows, his muscles knotted, holding himself immobile by sheer force of will. “I’m sorry. I tried not to hurt you. Are you all right?”

She swallowed, gave him a tremulous smile. “The pain has fled. I feel only a strange sort of fullness.”

His sensuous mouth curved up. “You will feel more, sweeting, that I promise.”

And so she did. Slowly he began to move, his hips rising, easing him almost all the way out. Then his buttocks flexed and drove him deeply back in. In and then out. Sinking in until he filled her, then withdrawing until she ached for his return. She could feel every hard inch of him, feel the heavy thrust and drag of his shaft, and tiny vibrations rushed through her. Her body trembled and she arched upward, taking him deeper still. Her hands gripped his sweat-slick shoulders, taut muscle rippled, and the heat in her loins fanned out through her limbs.

Warmth coiled low in her belly. Her body seemed to burn.

In and then out, faster, harder, deeper. Pounding, pounding until the pleasure was unbearable.

“Jason!” She caught her lip between her teeth, her body tightening, shimmering, then shattering into a thousand pieces. Pleasure broke over her, ripples of fire and incredible surges of sweetness. She clung to him, wept his name against his shoulder, held him and let the waves of pleasure wash through her. Jason’s body tightened above her. She felt the last of his hard driving thrusts, heard a groan rumble up from his throat.

For long tender moments, he just held her. Velvet clung to him and thought she had never experienced anything so wonderful, never felt so incredibly complete. Whatever happened, whatever life held in store, she would always have this moment, this special gift of passion that couldn’t be taken from her.

Then Jason pulled away. “The hour grows late. You had better get dressed.” A brusque note rang in his voice she hadn’t expected, a remoteness that hadn’t been there before. “You’ve been gone from the house too long already.”

Uncertainty fluttered through her. She wanted to reach out and touch him, to take comfort from his solid strength as she had done before. “What we did … you did not … you did not find it pleasing?”

His eyes swung to hers and he looked at her hard. “Pleasing? Aye, Duchess, pleasing it was, to say the very least. I told you, sweeting, that I would not regret it.” He grabbed his breeches and dragged them on, adjusting himself inside them. “I won’t apologize for what happened, if that is what you are after. I warned you before we started.”

She glanced down, feeling cold now in her nudity, uncomfortable with this harsh side of him, wishing the gentle side would return. “I did not ask for an apology. I am new to this. I was not certain … I did not know if I…”

He pulled on his shirt, rubbing the scar on the back of his hand as if the skin still burned. “You are quite talented, my lady. The ride was the best I’ve had in years.”

Velvet bit down on her bottom lip, but she couldn’t block the soft cry of pain that escaped her throat. She turned away from him, fumbling for her clothes, pulling her chemise on over her head and fighting not to cry. It was a losing battle and tears spilled down her cheeks.

The loving had been so special for her and it had meant nothing at all to him.

She bent forward, her vision blurred, searching for the bodice of her riding gown. Her fingers brushed his as he handed it over.

“Velvet … I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

She looked away from him, forced her arms into the sleeves, and fumbled with the buttons up the front. “’Twas my idea, your grace. I could have stopped you but I did not. A man cannot think too highly of a woman like that.”

She gasped at the fierceness with which he dragged her against him, forced her to meet his piercing gaze. “Do not say that. Do not even think it. This was my fault. I behaved like the animal I have become. I took your innocence. I cared nothing for the price you would pay, only that I hungered to bed you. I tried to warn you. I tried to tell you the kind of man I am, but you would not listen. Now you know.”

Stark pain etched his features. Regret shown in the hard set of his jaw. An ache rose in her chest just to look at him. Velvet reached out, rested a trembling hand against his cheek.

“I shall tell you what I know. I know that you are the most passionate and gentle of lovers. I know that you tried to resist far longer than any other man would have, but I would not let you. I wanted you, just as you wanted me. It is you who regrets what has happened, your grace. I promise you, I do not.”

He shook his head. “I should have stopped. I should have protected you—”

“I wanted what you gave me. That is all that matters.”

He stared at her, searching for the truth, trying to read her face. What he saw must have convinced him, for his eyes closed a moment and when he opened them again, the pain seemed to have faded.

A long sigh slipped from between his lips. “There may be consequences. I should have been more careful but I…” He gave her a tentative smile. “I’m afraid, at the time, I wasn’t thinking all that clearly.”

“I believe I shall take that as a compliment, your grace.”

“It was meant as such, my lady.”

She smiled softly, feeling suddenly shy. Turning away to finish dressing, she saw that her legs were flecked with virgin’s blood. Jason must have realized her dilemma for he left the room and returned a few moments later with a damp cloth and a small linen towel. High color rising in her cheeks, Velvet accepted them. Jason pretended not to notice, turned and walked outside, leaving her alone.

She joined him a few minutes later, dressed once more in her ruby velvet riding habit, her hair smoothed into a bun at the nape of her neck. The stark mode of dress gave her the courage to face him.

“If I should learn anything of value, I shall send word to you through Litchfield.”

His eyes went dark, storm clouds on the horizon of a very blue sea. “I told you, Velvet, it’s too dangerous. Stay out of Avery’s way and whatever you do, don’t ask questions.”

She smiled sweetly. “Whatever you say, your grace.”

“And dammit, don’t call me that. Someone might hear you.”

“As you wish, Jason. Will you help me up?”

He lifted her easily into the sidesaddle, but his hands lingered a few extra moments at her waist. “Good-bye, Lady Velvet,” he said gruffly, his eyes still fixed on her face. “You’re a very special woman.”

Her throat went tight. “Good-bye, Jason.” Already she missed him. Ignoring the ache in her chest and the burning urge to weep, she reined the horse away and did not look back. She had meant what she said—she didn’t regret making love to him. It had been the single most astounding moment of her life. She would never regret it. She only regretted that Jason didn’t love her. And that it would never happen again.

As soon as she left Carlyle Hall, she was heading for the city. The London Season was underway and she had to find a husband. Jason had made it clear he wasn’t interested in marriage, and even if he agreed to return her dowry, she would not wed him if he did not want her.

A fresh lance of pain speared through her. Jason wanted to bed her. He was a virile man who enjoyed the pleasures of a woman’s body. He cared little for her beyond that.

It did not mean she didn’t intend to help him. Velvet rode back to Carlyle Hall ignoring a thread of loneliness she hadn’t expected, and trying to decide the best way to begin.

*   *   *

Avery stood in the doorway to the morning room, where his last remaining guests had gathered for their breakfast. Pretty little Mary Stanton was among them, seated beside her father, Sir Wallace, at the long, linen draped, silver-laden table.

Avery returned the smile Mary cast in his direction, fighting an unbearable urge to rub his hands together with glee.

In the course of the next thirty days, his problems would be over. He would be married to Mary Stanton, in control of her vast dowry, and heir to her father’s fortune. The wheels could be set into motion as soon as his involvement was ended with Velvet Moran.

Avery frowned to see her sitting across from Lady Brookhurst, engaged in what appeared to be a cheerful conversation. Velvet was laughing at something Celia said, her big brown eyes tilted up at the corners with mirth. Avery’s frown grew even darker. Celia was hardly a woman of wit, or at least he had certainly never thought so. Most of her humor was ribald and better spoken in bed.

For the past few years, she had denied him even that small pleasure, doling out the lash of her carping tongue without the solace of her body. She constantly badgered him for money, regretted, she said, having ever signed the settlement agreement they had made. Last month, she had somehow discovered the nebulous state of his finances. Only his engagement to Lady Velvet had kept her from baring her vicious fangs at him again.

He watched the two women chatting with a bit too much familiarity and hoped to God the Haversham girl had sense enough to keep her mouth shut about their doomed betrothal. Then he thought of the shrewd way Velvet had manipulated him and relaxed a little. She was a worthy opponent for Celia—and he had far more important matters to attend.

Turning toward the opposite end of the breakfast table, Avery started walking toward Mary Stanton.

*   *   *

Velvet smiled at another of Lady Brookhurst’s inane remarks. She had managed to gain a seat across from the countess, but the woman’s regard focused mainly on handsome Christian Sutherland, the earl of Balfour. Unfortunately the earl was seated a goodly distance away and Celia soon wearied of trying to capture his attention.

“Faith, but men are a pitiful lot,” she said with a sigh. “That one strays from one bed to another with such staggering frequency one would think he must grow dizzy trying to recall his paramours’ names.”

Velvet glanced down the long stretch of starched white linen, past the gleaming silver centerpiece, to where the blond-haired earl of Balfour chatted with Sir Wallace Stanton. “He is certainly handsome enough.”

“La, and a good catch, too. Wealthy in the extreme. At present, he is prowling for a wife, though I doubt he looks forward to being leg shackled.”

“If what you say of his constancy is true, he had better choose a woman of great tolerance.”

The countess laughed softly. Gowned in bright mauve silk, black Belgian lace flowing from elbow to wrist, she looked elegant and beautiful, cool and unruffled, even though the earl continued to ignore her.

“God’s truth, but they all stray sooner or later.” Her glance darted to Avery then back to her. “Except for his grace, of course. The duke is obviously smitten. I’m certain he’ll be quite the dutiful husband.”

The lie came easily. They both recognized it for what it was. Velvet merely smiled. “I’m certain he will, but if he is not, surely once a wife’s duty is performed, she should be allowed the same freedom as the man she has married.”

Celia’s fine black brow arched up. She smiled with obvious approval. “You are far more intelligent than I had guessed, Lady Velvet. Avery is lucky to have found you.” But her smug smile said Avery would despise a woman who cuckolded him, no matter how many mistresses he, himself, might have.

Velvet moved the pheasant and eggs around on her plate, then set her fork down without bringing a bite to her lips. “You knew his brother, I’m told.”

The countess eyed her with renewed interest, surprised she had unearthed the long-dead scandal Avery worked so hard to keep buried. She sighed dramatically. “I knew him. We were quite in love, you know. Jason had meant for us to marry.”

Velvet nearly dropped the porcelain teacup she had just lifted. “I-I wasn’t aware that the two of you were betrothed.”

“It was not yet official. I was widowed only just a few months earlier. We meant to wait until after a suitable period of mourning before we announced our plans. That was the reason we were forced to meet in secret.”

“I see.” Velvet dabbed her napkin against her lips, glad for the moment to compose herself. “Avery rarely speaks of him. I suppose the loss of both his brother and father is just too painful.”

“I’m sure it is.” She flashed a womanly smile. “But aside from the night of the murder, the memories I hold of Jason are pleasant, indeed.” She leaned closer. “He was quite a magnificent lover. Young and virile. Nearly insatiable in bed.” She glanced toward Avery. “But I’m certain your future husband—being also a Sinclair—will serve just as well.”

Hardly, Velvet thought. Avery’s passionless kisses held none of the fire Jason’s did. She only wished that Celia Rollins wasn’t so obviously aware of it.

“I suppose it was terrible for you, witnessing the murder, I mean, knowing the man you loved would hang and the plans the two of you had made would die along with him.”

The countess looked pained. “It was dreadful. Poor Avery was so distraught. Neither of us believed a man like Jason was capable of murder.” Another dramatic sigh. “I suppose it was my fault, really. For whatever reason, the duke opposed our marriage. Jason was determined to wed me no matter what his father said. They argued violently. Jason lost his temper, drew his pistol, and shot him. Avery arrived a few moments later, but by then it was too late.”

Velvet’s head snapped up. “I thought Avery said he tried to talk Jason out of it but his brother wouldn’t listen. If he didn’t get there until the duke was already dead—”

For an instant, the countess looked uneasy then she waved the words away. “Perhaps he was there before the shooting. I can hardly be expected to recall the exact way it happened after all these years.”

Velvet forced herself to smile and leaned casually back in her chair. She didn’t dare press for more, no matter how badly she wanted to. “Of course you can’t. I daresay, I had only heard bits and pieces of gossip. ’Tis a dreadful subject and I was remiss in bringing it up.”

“Yes … well, there are certainly more pleasant topics.” She turned to smile at the handsome earl of Balfour, but he didn’t smile back. Another man did, the slender, sandy-haired Viscount Dearing. The countess tossed Balfour a disgruntled glance then began to flirt openly with Dearing.

“As I said,” the countess remarked to Velvet with a conspiratorial air, “there are far more pleasant topics. I believe I shall pursue one of them. I’m afraid you will have to excuse me.”

“Of course.” Velvet watched the countess’s graceful departure, accompanied not long after by the slender fair-haired Dearing, who trailed along in her wake. The countess was older than he, but she hadn’t lost her allure. She was beautiful, wicked, and incredibly seductive. No wonder Jason had been so in love with her.

The unwelcome thought arose—once he saw her again, perhaps he still would be.