Читать книгу His Wicked Charm - Candace Camp, Candace Camp - Страница 17

CHAPTER NINE

CON WAS NOT going to think about Lilah Holcutt today. Nor was he going to dwell on that kiss. It had been a foolish thing for him to do. He had gotten caught up in the moment—and, yes, Lilah had looked damned desirable charging into battle, cheeks flushed and eyes glittering, without a care for how she looked or what others might think.

But kissing her had been a mistake. He had carefully avoided her since the wedding, and he’d reached the point where he hardly thought of her. Then, in one moment, he had dropped all his barriers and let her in again.

However different Lilah might have seemed during the rescue of his family, however much her kisses stirred him, she would go back to being herself. Disapproving. Rigid. Cold. Just she had been yesterday when Con entered the room. As if that moment of closeness on the terrace after the wedding had never happened, Lilah had turned her usual cool, measuring gaze on him. She had refused to even sit down with him to chat. Whereas he had come running like a puppy at the sound of her voice. He hoped she had not noticed the way he had rushed into the room.

How could the woman who had turned into flames in his arms last night manage to be all ice the rest of the time? She was a puzzle, so of course she intrigued him. But this was one conundrum that he must resist. One lock that he should not open.

He had better things to do today. The new threat to Sabrina needed his immediate and undivided attention. After breakfast, he headed to Moreland Investigations, the agency he had taken over from Olivia a few years ago. There, as he’d hoped, he found Tom Quick, the agency’s employee of many years.

Quick was whip smart, cool under pressure and able to follow almost anyone without being noticed. He was also a wizard at picking pockets, having spent his early years on the streets, but that was a practice he had given up since he came to work for the Morelands. Though only a few years older than Con and Alex, Tom had been their mentor in subjects that were far more interesting to them than Ancient Greek or Philosophy.

Tom was appropriately incensed by Con’s story of the ladies’ kidnapping and rescue, though he had some reservations. “A key? You think they kidnapped your mum and sisters for a key?”

“Yes. I know it’s odd.”

Tom snorted. “That’s true of anything connected with you lot. But a key is a small thing to risk prison for, and a parasol seems a flimsy clue.”

“Perhaps, but it’s the only one I have at the moment. Since Sabrina and Alex are off on their honeymoon, we can’t ask her about it. But she is the heiress to her father’s substantial estate, and she’s already had Niles Dearborn and his son trying to get their hands on her money.”

“Then you think it’s the Dearborns.”

“We know they’re cheats and liars.” Con ticked his points off on his fingers. “We know they still have a great many financial woes. They will resort to any method to get their hands on money. And they have twice abducted people.”

“You’ve convinced me. But do you have any proof?”

“No,” Con admitted. “That’s why I’m going to pay a visit to the Dearborns this morning. Care to come along?”

Tom’s ready grin was answer enough.

The footman who opened the Dearborns’ door blanched at the sight of Con on the doorstep, but he quickly ushered them into Niles Dearborn’s study. As they followed the man down the hall, Tom murmured, “I’d say that fellow remembers you.”

“Is he the one I shoved aside?”

“You mean the one you punched? Yes, I think so.”

Niles Dearborn looked equally alarmed when Con strode in on his servant’s heels. He shot to his feet, sending a glare at the hapless footman. “What are you doing here, Moreland? You can’t just barge in here.”

“Apparently I can,” Con returned.

“I told that maniac you sent over here yesterday that I had nothing to do with his wife’s disappearance.”

“Leave my father alone.” Niles’s son, Peter, hurried into the room. “Why can’t you leave us alone?”

“Because you came after my brother’s wife again.”

“McIntyre said nothing about Sabrina,” Niles protested. “He said it was the duke’s wife and daughters.”

“Is Sabrina all right?” Peter asked. “What happened to her?”

“Nothing, for which you should be very grateful. The ladies are back, and your men are in jail. You might worry what information they’ll give up about you.”

“We don’t have any men!” Niles barked. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Why would we kidnap your family?” Peter said reasonably. “Or Sabrina?”

“The same reason most kidnappers do,” Con answered. “Money. Or perhaps you just wanted a key.”

Both men gaped at him. “The key?” Niles asked.

“Her key?” Peter said at the same moment. The two men exchanged a glance.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Niles blustered. “Why would I want some key?”

“I don’t know.” Con’s eyes narrowed. “But I think you do.”

“Nonsense. We had nothing to do with any kidnapping, and I’m not looking for a key. Now, I’ll thank you to get out of my house.”

“Gladly,” Con responded. “But before I go, let me remind you what Alex told you last time. If you try to harm Sabrina or anyone in his family, he’ll come after you. And he won’t be alone. You understand? Stay away from my family.”

As soon as they stepped outside, Tom said, “He knew what you were talking about. I’d swear it. When you mentioned the key, there was a flash of something in his eyes.”

“Yes. Until then, I was beginning to wonder if he was telling the truth. But it’s clear we won’t get any more information out of them. He knows we have no proof.”

“What are you going to do, then?”

“I’m going to call on someone who knows the Dearborns and Sabrina very well.”

“DEAR, DON’T YOU think you ought to change?” Aunt Helena asked.

Surprised, Lilah looked up from her book. “I thought you had decided not to make calls this afternoon.” She had looked forward to an afternoon spent in quiet comfort, reading.

“That’s no reason to lounge about looking like that. Why, I don’t believe you’re wearing a corset.”

“No,” Lilah admitted. She had put on the loose sacque dress because it didn’t require stays. She was a little bruised and sore from the constriction of the stiff corset during all the activity yesterday. “But there is no one here to see.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Aunt Helena said with a twinkle. “Your uncle mentioned that Sir Jasper might come to call, remember? And yesterday Mr. Tilden was very disappointed to find you not at home. I shouldn’t be surprised if that young man wasn’t on our doorstep again.”

“Aunt Helena…I wish you would not encourage Mr. Tilden.”

“Whyever not? He’s a presentable young man. He has a tidy little fortune. He’s amiable and educated—I have heard the two of you discussing Shakespeare.”

“Only because he was shocked I had read the actual plays and not a bowdlerized version.”

Her aunt frowned. “I’m still not sure it was wise for your academy to allow those plays around impressionable young girls. Not everyone has your strength of mind and moral certitude.” Aunt Helena began to go through Lilah’s wardrobe. “What about this russet silk moire? It’s so pretty with your hair. These puffed sleeves are elegant.”

Lilah sighed at the thought of climbing back into all those clothes—the small bustle in back, the corset to achieve the proper wasp waist, the boned sleeve supports to fill out the puffed sleeves, not to mention the petticoats and, over it all, the bodice and skirt. It was rather like donning armor. Social armor. But it was a lovely dress, and of course she couldn’t receive guests in this softly draped morning gown.

“Yes, that will do nicely,” she said and rang for her maid.

“If you haven’t a preference for Mr. Tilden, there’s always Sir Jasper,” Aunt Helena said. “I think he’s close to offering.” So did Lilah; that was the problem. “He seems quite enamored of you.”

“He’s enamored of getting his hands on the estate my father left me.”

“Lilah! What a thing to say. Sir Jasper isn’t a fortune hunter. Your father left him that land in Yorkshire to go with the title, and I understand he has a nice income besides. In any case, it would be suitable to have the family seat and the title joined again. I never understood exactly why your father left the house to you instead of passing it with the title.”

“Because I am his daughter. He wanted to leave me independent,” Lilah said with some exasperation. “Because it was his home and he loved it. He didn’t want to leave it to a man who was little more than a stranger. And since it wasn’t entailed, he was free to do with it as he wished.”

“Of course he wanted to provide for you, but still, it’s unusual. If you married Sir Jasper, the estate would be whole again.”

“That’s hardly worth marrying someone for. Sir Jasper is older than I am.”

“Only fifteen years. It’s more comfortable to marry an older man. They are more stable. They’re established in life.”

“But we are related.”

“Not to any significant degree,” her aunt protested. “Sir Jasper may be the last male of the Holcutt line, but he’s only a third cousin once removed, so there would be no reason not to marry.”

“There’s reason enough in the fact that I don’t love him.”

“Delilah…surely you don’t mean that. You’ve always been so levelheaded. Reasonable.”

“Isn’t it reasonable to love the man you marry?”

“Yes, and I am sure you will come to love him in time. Love is the fruit from the seed of a good marriage. Only foolish girls marry because they fancy themselves in love with a man. It’s infatuation, based on nothing more than the color of a man’s eyes or the way he smiles or the lavish compliments he pays her.”

“I hope I am not so shallow, Aunt, nor so unable to judge my own feelings. To know what is merely attraction, merely desire—” that was Con Moreland “—and what is true feeling.” That was, well, she wasn’t sure, for she had never felt it for any man.

“Of course you’re not shallow. But you are young, and you have been influenced by the romance of Sabrina’s wedding. But no one knows how that will end. You have seen only the excitement. There’s a great deal more to life than that. A marriage needs a strong foundation—a suitable match of name and bloodline. A similarity of spirit. A husband who can provide and protect you, who is steady and high-minded. One of irreproachable reputation.”

It sounded, Lilah thought, like a dull sort of marriage. But it was the kind her aunt herself had, so Lilah could hardly disparage it. She smiled and said teasingly, “Aunt Helena, you are going to make me think you want to get me off your hands.”

Helena smiled fondly. “You know I would keep you with me forever if I thought only of myself. Your uncle would say the same. But I want what’s best for you. I want you to have a good, happy life and a husband who can give you that.”

“I know. I love you for it.” Aunt Helena, having no children, looked upon Lilah as her own daughter, and she was the closest thing Lilah had to a mother, her own having died when Lilah was young.

Perhaps her aunt was right. Maybe it was foolish to hope to find love, to give a man her heart and hold the same from him. She wasn’t even sure that love was something she was capable of. She’d never felt even a twinge of it for any of the young men with whom she had danced and conversed.

Maybe she should be practical. Find a man who embodied the qualities she admired, who was, as Aunt Helena said, steady and like-minded. Surely that would be better than falling into the trap her father had, holding his sad obsessive love to his heart all his life. Her aunt and uncle were happy in their marriage. As one grew old, it might be nicer to have a man to sit with by the fire than one who had made your heart beat faster.

But then she thought of Sabrina’s face lighting up when Alex walked in. Or how Kyria and Rafe would look at each other across the room, as if no one else existed. The way the duke, after almost fifty years of marriage, still gazed at the duchess as if he’d just been given the most wonderful gift in the world. The thought of such love made her giddy. And terrified.

It was what she wanted. However fond of her aunt she was, Lilah was not going to marry anyone because it was appropriate or suitable. Still, she must be polite. Sorry that she had been irritated with Aunt Helena, Lilah decided that she would even do her best to see Sir Jasper’s worthy qualities.

For that reason, an hour later she was sitting in the parlor, wearing the dark russet gown with the wasp waist and the puffed sleeves, as her aunt greeted Sir Jasper.

Her distant cousin was a nice-looking gentleman, and if his figure was not an imposing one, at least he was taller than she, which was more than she could say for her other suitor, Mr. Tilden. It was, she supposed, shallow of her that she could not marry a man to whom she must look down to speak. If only Sir Jasper smiled more or didn’t talk in such a ponderous manner or if he made her laugh now and then, she might be able to think of him in a more romantic way.

“Sir Jasper.” Lilah rose and smiled in a carefully modulated way—polite, but not too friendly, not too glad to see him. She would give him a chance, but she didn’t want to encourage him.

“Please, you must call me Jasper. We are related after all.” He gave her a stiff smile and bowed.

And that, Lilah thought, was the extent of Sir Jasper’s sense of humor. Her own smile grew more forced. “Yes, of course, Cousin Jasper.”

He frowned faintly at this reminder of their kinship, however distant, but said only, “Cousin Delilah.”

Lilah’s worst fears were realized when, after a few minutes of polite conversation, Aunt Helena excused herself from the room and went in search of her missing needlework. Lilah knew she was clearing the way for Sir Jasper to propose.

Quickly, before her visitor could speak, Lilah said, “I hope the work on your house is proceeding well. I believe you said the banister was suffering from woodworms.”

Sir Jasper looked a trifle taken aback at her choice of topic but said, “Yes. I hope to show it to you one day.”

“I suppose it will be an extensive project.” She wondered how long she could keep a conversation going about the renovation of a house she had never seen and had no interest in.

“I am sure it will.” He cleared his throat. “Delilah. I believe you must be aware that I hold you in high esteem.”

“Thank you,” Lilah interrupted, desperately trying to think of a way to stave off his next words. With relief, she heard the sound of the front door opening and the butler’s voice. Perhaps she would be rescued by another caller; at this point, she would welcome Mr. Tilden.

There were footsteps and the butler appeared in the doorway, saying with great pride, “Lord Moreland.”

“Con!” Lilah jumped to her feet, smiling. There could be no greater disruption to any scene than Con Moreland.