Adrienne Basso - How To Seduce A Sinner

“Between lovers?” Carter mocked.

“Between friends,” Dorothea insisted.

Now what? Would the major reveal the truth to Carter? She cast her eyes over at Roddy and they exchanged a silent look.

A look that Carter caught, and it further enraged his already escalating temper. “God help me, I shall not be made a fool,” he cried, lunging forward, fists clenched.

Heedless of her own safety, Dorothea placed herself between the two combatants. Carter tried to move her out of the way, but she would not budge.

“Give me one good reason why I should not blacken both his eyes?” Carter bellowed in rage.

“He is not my lover,” Dorothea declared in a desperate tone. “Major Roddington is your brother.”

Carter felt his body sway. He lifted his face to the sun and fleetingly closed his eyes, searching for divine intervention. Surely he had not heard Dorothea correctly. My brother? Impossible!

A gust of wind rustled the leaves in the trees, but he barely felt the breeze, barely felt the sting on his knuckles from the blow he had landed on Roddington’s jaw.

“Carter?” Dorothea’s voice was soft, questioning. A moment of utter silence settled over the garden and then he tilted his head from the sun’s glare and looked directly at his wife. “You are out of your mind!” Carter exclaimed breathlessly. “How can he possibly be my brother?”

“Your half-brother.” An uneasy expression flitted over her face. “It’s the truth, Carter. That’s why the major is here, to tell me.”

“And you believed him!” Carter shook his head vigorously. “’Tis a lie. A bald-faced lie.”

Dorothea’s eyes glistened with unshed tears. “Please, Carter, you must listen to him before you make such a hasty judgment.”

Why was she crying? For him or for Roddington? Carter held up a commanding hand, hoping to silence her. He needed time to think. “I refuse to listen to this rubbish,” he said forcefully, directing his words at the major.

Roddington folded his arms and stared back at him arrogantly. “I told her this is how you would react,” he said bitterly.

“No!” Dorothea exclaimed quickly. “Carter is not like the duke. He is a reasonable man. He will listen. Tell him, Roddy.”

Her fingers gripped Carter’s forearm, pleading with him to stay. He resisted shrugging her off, though every instinct screamed at him to turn and storm away. She was so intent, so emotional. He would listen, refute the lies, and then leave.

It took a moment for the major to find his voice. “My mother was a genteel woman, the daughter of a knight,” the major began. “She was raised in comfort, as befitting a lady, but when her father died he left debts for his only child. Once they were paid, there was very little money. She had no dowry and no desire to be a burden on her relatives, so she was forced to earn her way in the world.”

Carter snorted. God help him if Roddington said his mother had become the duke’s mistress. He would smash his nose, no matter how emotional Dorothea became. It was a well-known fact that the Duke of Hansborough adored his wife and was a loyal and faithful husband.

As if reading the direction of Carter’s thoughts, Roddington scowled. “She found employment as a governess,” he said with emphasis.

“My governess was a woman I remember fondly,” Carter replied. “She was a family retainer who had also taken charge of my father when he was a boy. A female far too old to have given birth to you.”

“I never claimed my mother was hired to care for you,” Roddington shot back. “It was not her employer who violated her trust, who took advantage of a young, pretty, helpless woman. It was the duke who resided on the neighboring estate who seduced her and then abandoned her to bear the child alone and in shame.”

“Who was your mother’s employer?” Dorothea asked.

“Lord and Lady Alderton.”

“That proves nothing!” Carter shouted, though he was rattled to hear the name. The Aldertons’ estate bordered on Ravenswood Manor and his father was the only duke in that county.

Dorothea looked stricken. “Your father has a great dislike of Lord and Lady Alderton. Perhaps the origin of the feud has something to do with this mess.”

Carter shifted his weight uncomfortably. Snippets of conversation came to mind. Things he had overheard as a child, words spoken in anger between his parents, words that made no sense, had no meaning. Until now.

“I certainly require more proof than the odd happenstance of Roddington’s mother once being employed by the Aldertons,” Carter declared. “If that’s even true.”

“That is easy enough to verify,” Roddington countered. “As for the rest, as far as I know, my mother never publicly stated who had fathered her child. She only revealed the truth to me as she lay dying.”

Dorothea set her fingers against her temple. “There must be some record, some kind of documents?”

“There were letters,” Roddington said.

“Letters can be forged.” Carter replied.

Roddington lifted both eyebrows. “How like your father, you are, Atwood. When I presented myself to him, those were his exact words.”

“You’ve spoken with the duke?”

“Yes. Twice, actually.” The major lowered his head and stared at his boots. “The first time I was fifteen. I started for London the day after I buried my mother. It took me a few weeks to arrive and several days before I managed to waylay the duke on the street outside of his club.

“There I was, a green, naïve lad, grieving the loss of the only person who had ever loved me, facing the man who had ruined her life, ruined both of our lives. Yet try as I might, I couldn’t hate him.”

“What happened?” Dorothea asked.

“He gave me his card and told me to call at his house later that day. And so I arrived, filled with false hope and armed with the letters he had written to my mother.

“The duke listened intently to every word I spoke. Then he had a footman toss me out on the street. But before I left, he threatened to have me arrested and thrown into prison if I ever dared to breathe a word of these filthy lies.”

The suppressed anger and resentment simmering deep inside Roddington was visible now. The major’s eyes had gone dark and fierce. His hands were fisted tightly as if he would strike out if given the chance.

“Where are the letters?” Carter asked, watching the stiff set of Roddington’s posture, trying to ascertain if he was telling the truth.

“He took them. I have no doubt they were tossed in the fire before my backside hit the street outside his fancy London mansion.” Though he tried to keep his tone emotionless, the pain in Roddington’s voice was raw.

“You said you have spoken with the duke twice,” Dorothea prompted.

“I saw him again this morning. It was rather simple gaining access to the house now that I am known to the household staff.”

The major stared pointedly at Dorothea and Carter realized what he meant. Roddington was frequently escorting her to society events. The duke’s household would not think anything amiss if the major came to call. This was troubling. Carter wondered how deep the wounds of rejection went, how bitter the resentment tasted. Enough to do harm? To the duke?

Carter quickly surmised the urgent note from the duke he received this morning must be about the situation with Roddington. “What have you done?” Carter asked, his nerves suddenly on edge.

“Worried?” the major whispered in a combative tone.

Carter reflexively closed his fist, longing to have it connect with Roddington’s face. He’d have liked nothing more than to see the major’s eyes widen, his head snap back, and his arms flail as he tried to keep his balance and stay on his feet.