Читать книгу The Trouble With Seduction - Victoria Hanlen - Страница 11

CHAPTER 4

Sarah sighed and gazed at the upper floors of the Crystal Palace.

Beams of sunlight filtered through the opaque glass covering the ceiling and walls. Fountains pattered, flowers perfumed the air, patrons murmured their praise for the multitude of exhibits. All blended to produce a sense of pleasure and awe.

The grandness of the place almost diverted Sarah from her problems.

Almost.

“Strathford would have been enthralled by all the wondrous inventions,” she mused, wistfully.

“Indeed, this is a fairyland for every taste.” Her Aunt Eliza dragged her gaze from an exquisitely embroidered gown. “It’s time you put away your mourning clothes, my dear. Let’s visit my new modiste and have you fitted for a gown in this very shade of blue.”

Sarah and her aunt moved on, halting to study a Roman statue of a scantily clad warrior. The sculptor’s sensuous chisel had brought to life every magnificent sinew. A memory surfaced of the handsome miller’s son Sarah had kissed when she was sixteen.

Unbidden, bone-deep humiliation crept in, squeezing her stomach like a vise. Even after all these years, the remorse over those few stolen moments of happiness almost made her ill.

She leaned close to her aunt, their bonnets nearly touching. “There is something I must tell you.” She peered about to make sure no one could hear them. “For over two years I’ve thought Strathford’s death an accident. Yesterday, workmen found suspicious items in his laboratory. The police now think he was murdered.”

Her aunt gasped. “Oh, my dear, that is disturbing news. Do they have any idea who would do such a thing?”

Sarah exhaled shakily in remembrance of their questions and curled a lip in distaste. “I couldn’t help feeling they think I killed him.”

Eliza’s features tightened. She immediately pressed her hand down through the air. A little signal she’d devised to alert Sarah when she spoke too candidly. “Such frank words in public could be misconstrued, dear.” She quickly looked around before whispering, “Surely you must have misunderstood.”

Sarah pinched her lips together and shuddered. “The police inspector’s questions left me quite… alarmed. It did no good insisting I have no idea who would have wanted to hurt Strathford.”

A pang of anguish tightened her throat. “For over two years I’ve held true to his memory and mourned his death. How I miss him, Auntie. This whole situation has me so... despairing. I have no husband, no family…” She gazed longingly at the nearby children playing around a fountain. “No babies to raise.”

Shifting her attention back to the muscular statue, she exhaled a shuddering breath. “To make matters worse, since the workmen started renovating the laboratory, I have these… stirrings… these annoying quivers I can’t quite satisfy. Such things never happened after my first husband’s death.”

“You were practically a girl when Lord Hardington died. Now you’re an experienced woman.” Her aunt gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Such stirrings are quite natural. I must confess, after Oswald died, a similar condition came over me.” A smile quivered at her lips. “Perhaps you should take a lover.”

“Elizabeth Fortnoy,” Sarah whispered in mock offense, “I am scandalized.”

Her aunt’s eyes twinkled as she spoke under her breath. “Your agitation may be a sign it is time to rejoin the living. I don’t wish to speak ill of the dead, but I always thought your father rushed you into marrying men whose youth had fled them decades before. This time you have the luxury of being able to do a little shopping. Pick out a few pretty ones. See if anything about them takes your fancy. Happiness does not always land conveniently on one’s doorstep. Sometimes it’s necessary to go after it with a club.”

“Yes, Auntie. But I fear the police suspect me of mur—”

Her aunt’s eyes widened and her hand fluttered through the air.

“Well I… I’m so overwhelmed by this new development regarding Strathford’s death. I dare not make any… new friends.” A mist formed in Sarah’s eyes.

Eliza gazed at her sympathetically, then peered around the displays and other patrons. “Now where is that maid of yours? We should go outside. A little fresh air and sunshine should chase away those gloomies.”

Sarah tipped her head back to stem the tears. “Gracie went to the necessaries. She wanted to experience the innovative new water closets.”

Taking several deep breaths, Sarah gazed at an upper floor displaying industrial inventions. Through a blur of unshed tears she glimpsed a familiar continental jacket. She blinked and then blinked again. Oh, no, that couldn’t be the irritating fellow from the dance… and in her daydream? Her pulse launched into a faster beat.

Were his shoulders always that broad?

***

When Sarah’s maid finally returned, they made their way to the outside exhibits. A few minutes later, Gracie bobbed in excitement. “Oh, my lady! Look, there by the Dinosaur Lake. Could that be Mr Cornelius Ravenhill?”

Eliza turned to Sarah with a knowing smile and raised an inquisitive brow. “Have you met Lord Falgate’s younger son?”

Attempting a show of nonchalance, Sarah muttered, “Briefly,” and concentrated on running her hands over the pleats of her very modest sable-colored gown. Finally, unable to resist a peek, she held up her hand to shield her eyes from the sun.

From a distance, she could see a tall man in a distinctive fashionable suit, leaning on a cane. Fabric gaped around his middle. When she’d met him at the Grancliffes’ party, his tailoring had been perfection and the height of continental fashion. “Are you sure that’s him?”

Her aunt gave her a sidelong glance. “Our fair city has not given him a very kind homecoming. I heard villains killed his footman and beat him to within an inch of his life. Such a travesty,” she breathed. “His dark looks were said to be rather appealing.”

Sarah fiddled with her reticule. “Yes, he was most handsome, and he knew it, too. Truly, I’ve never met a more conceited, self-absorbed man. I am inclined to believe he’s hidden behind his fine features to conceal his lack of intelligence. Perhaps his mishap will educate him on how to communicate with the rest of us mere mortals.”

Gracie blinked, her eyes bugging slightly the way they usually did when she was about to say something droll. “Let that be a lesson to you. If a big, sturdy man and his burly footman can get their stuffings beaten out of them, you wouldn’t stand a chance, running off on your own the way you do.”

“I don’t run off.” Sarah tucked the escaped strands of her intractable hair back under her bonnet. “It’s important business for my mission.”

“So you’ve said, but it’s foolhardy.” Gracie rose up on her toes, gazing toward the lake. Patrons flocked about the fences enclosing the exhibit’s gargantuan prehistoric creatures. “Quick, my ladies!” The maid rocked from foot to foot in excitement. “That mother and her children are leaving. We’d best grab her spot at the rail if we ever plan on seeing those ancient water monsters.”

Others saw the opening as well, forming opposing currents, pushing them to and fro. With all the comings and goings, somehow her mischievous maid managed to maneuver them into a spot right next to the continental suit.

“Have you ever seen teeth that size?” Gracie threw out her arm to point at the creature, while loudly exclaiming, “Adults know these beasts are plaster, but I fear for the little ones’ imaginations. They’re bound to cause nightmares!”

Could her maid shout any louder? Sarah dug into her reticule, searching for something, anything to give the impression she was totally unaware of the tall man standing right next to them. Her lively, ebullient maid could be entertaining company, but sometimes she wanted to strangle her.

Without meaning to, one of Sarah’s hands accidentally slipped, upended her reticule, and dumped its entire contents onto the ground. “Oh, dear.” She looked at her aunt whose features contorted as if it took great effort to keep from breaking into peals of laughter.

While Gracie scrambled to pick things up, Sarah heard a throat being cleared.

“I believe these might be yours.” A smile colored the richly resonant voice.

She turned to gaze up into one large handsome brown eye. The other was a puffy, purplish slit. Her breath caught at the sight. “Thank you,” she exhaled.

He held out her small magnifying glass. The wind carried the scent of his tantalizing citrus and sandalwood cologne. Instead of giving her back her utility ring, he pulled the gadgets from their protective leather sleeve, inspecting them one by one. “Now isn’t this clever. A little knife, a saw and screwdriver, a tiny pair of scissors, pliers and a nail file. My goodness, you are certainly prepared for any occasion.”

Finally handing back her utility ring, he removed his top hat. His dark hair stood in disarray, ruffling in the warm breeze. On one side of his forehead and down his cheek, large, colorful bruises encompassed several lacerations.

She tried to smile but couldn’t take her eyes off his injuries.

The moment stretched on a little too long. Finally, he said, “I’m sorry, have we been introduced?”

Of course he wouldn’t remember her, or at least he would pretend not to. He’d barely said two words to her the first time they’d met. “Yes,” she sniffed. “If you might recall, we recently danced together at the Grancliffes’ party.”

“Oh.” His brows furrowed as he gazed about her face. Then he wound his finger in a circle at his ear. “The bump on my head quite… I do apologize. Please tell me your name again.”

Just as she’d expected. Handsome young men never saw her. She pinched her lips together. “I am Lady Strathford.”

His one eye seemed to intensify on her face. “Are you any relation to the late Lord Strathford?”

“Yes, his widow.”

“My condolences,” he said, gently. “A true loss. Lord Strathford was a very talented inventor.” He dipped his head and said in a voice – if her ears were not deceiving her – bordering on sultry, “Please forgive me. My memory is a bit hazy. Is there anything else I should know about… us?”

“Uuuss?” She swallowed reflexively. His careful study of her face, at first, made her uneasy and then started to annoy. What was he getting at? Was he insulting her with a rude joke? From the way Gracie had maneuvered them in beside him and her subsequent reticule mishap, perhaps the arrogant man presumed she was chasing him. She’d long since learned handsome, perfect men wanted nothing to do with imperfect females. But the unexpected thrill of him referring to them as ‘us’ made her pulse flutter. Irritatingly.

“We met briefly a little over a week ago, nothing more.” She gazed into his one good eye expecting a bland show of bored insouciance. Instead, she found a bright gleam of humor and a flash of – were her eyes deceiving her? – signs of intelligence? It couldn’t be. She rallied her indignation.

“As you might recall,” Sarah huffed, “we danced one waltz.”

“Did we?” The uninjured side of his lips curled into a smile.

“You did not say a single word as we danced, and barely looked at me.” She sniffed.

“That doesn’t sound at all like me. Are you sure?” She caught a momentary gleam of white teeth.

“Indeed. The doorway had you spellbound. I wondered that you couldn’t wait to leave.” The ordeal had made her feel like a chore he’d been obligated to complete. Except for his remarkable good looks and strong dancing skills, she’d decided he’d nothing more to recommend him.

“And did I immediately begin calling on you and bringing you bouquets?” His voice still contained a sultry resonance, but odd little catches in it sounded like he struggled against laughter.

Now he was definitely insulting her. She drew herself up straighter. “I must say, after that one dance, I find this discussion highly irregular.” So the man could put two words together.

Eliza stood at her side gazing out at the dinosaurs while her hand fluttered frantically about.

Sarah clamped her lips closed, twisted the strap of her reticule around her hand and peered about the crowds, readying to stomp off. She did not have to stand here and be ridiculed. Turning back to collect Gracie and Eliza, she happened to gaze up into that one dark, glimmering eye. Her pulse unexpectedly broke into a skip. Unintended words escaped her mouth. “Truly, do you not remember our dancing?”

He tapped a finger to his forehead. “Please accept my apologies, my lady. Some things are still a bit fuzzy. The doctor said a little more time might be needed.”

“Oh.” She swallowed a lump of mortification. What was the matter with her? He’d been beaten senseless. By the looks of him, they’d put great effort into pounding him about the head and face. Had they damaged his memory as well?

She’d assumed his attendance at the Crystal Palace meant he’d recovered enough to be out and about town. “Please forgive me, Mr Ravenhill. I thought you were teasing me. I thought after I accidentally…” She looked down at her shoe and scraped it over the pathway’s gravel.

“You accidentally…?”

“Well I…” she coughed. “When we danced, I accidentally stepped on your boot… once or twice… and I assumed you’d decided to take it elsewhere.” Dancing with handsome Mr Ravenhill had made her terribly nervous and her weak leg sluggish. “You didn’t say a word when I stepped on you.” She decided not to mention his raised, disapproving brow.

“Then you immediately took me into a dizzying spin.” It was all she could do to control her faulty leg and not land on her posterior. “When the music ended you quickly escorted me back to my friends. I didn’t get the chance to apologize because you disappeared.”

Mr Ravenhill looked down at his shoes and then back up at her. “So that’s how I got the sore foot. I thought my attackers had tramped on it.”

“Oh, I couldn’t have possibly done it much damage,” she said in disbelief.

The uninjured side of his face curved into a smile and… did he wink his good eye?

“I hope I apologized for setting my boot where you needed to step? My big feet have a habit of getting in the way.”

Her cheeks heated.

“So by your lack of response, I take it I was a cad and let you assume total responsibility.”

Sarah gazed up at him and suddenly realized the man was a horrible tease. This made her even more bewildered. Lately, men whom she’d never considered insisted on making her acquaintance. No doubt word had spread that her two marriages had left her with a sizable income. Could that be what put the sudden gleam in Mr Ravenhill’s eye?

He dipped his head. “Perhaps if I call on you in a day or two you will allow me to atone for my bad behavior?”

***

Damen watched the three women move on to another of the large creatures and couldn’t help admiring the widow’s lovely form – a tempting shape his rather outsized hands, and, well, the rest of him, would relish exploring. So that was the redoubtable Lady Strathford. Luck had been with him in making her acquaintance.

Shrouded in her somber mourning colors, he initially thought her another solemn wren. All that changed when she looked up at him and very clearly spoke her mind. The combination of her flashing blue eyes, saucy high cheekbones and unruly blonde hair – sprouting out from under her bonnet – gave her a kind of rare spirit. Quite worked up his blood.

Her voice had been the real surprise. Its velvety purr called to the man in him, even as she itemized his blunders, or rather, Cory’s blunders.

Gratifying, that.

Most women found his brother irresistible. Apparently, Lady Strathford possessed the rare immunity to Cory’s charms. The whole package quite stirred his insides to a fine hum.

He pulled himself up short. He shouldn’t be indulging in infatuations and especially regarding Lady Strathford. He needed information, that was all, and he’d no intention of seducing her for it. The sooner he found his brother’s attackers, the sooner he could get back to the construction of his warehouses in Liverpool.

He already had two women to deal with, Cory’s fiancée and his mistress. And Mrs Ivanova could prove to be a conundrum. She knew things – personal things – and it was only a matter of time before she realized he wasn’t Cory. But she also might know why his brother had been viciously attacked. Whether he wanted to or not, Damen must continue to meet with her.

It had been his plan to parade around London’s popular attractions in his brother’s most eye-catching clothes to show that he was still alive – injured, but on the mend. He was pleased that, so far, his cuts and bruises made people look away rather than examine him too closely.

No one indicated they thought him anyone other than his brother. If the footman had been correct, Cory knew one of the villains. Eventually, they would seek Damen out, if for no other reason than to inspect their handiwork.

Apart from Mrs Ivanova, how convincing did he need to be? Cory had been back in London less than two weeks after years away.

Damen gazed at a plaster Iguanodon. Like him, it was not the real article. What did Lady Strathford see when she looked at him through those glorious wide-set eyes? Cory’s handsome face, frightfully beaten? Did she have the slightest idea he was an imposter? It had been a long time since a woman put his insides so in a jumble.