Candace Camp - His Wicked Charm

“Lady St. Leger?” Her aunt’s forehead wrinkled a bit. “Do I know her?”

“She’s one of Sabrina’s sisters-in-law. She and her family came to stay at Broughton House for the wedding.”

Her aunt’s frown grew. “One of the Morelands? Dear, do you think that’s wise?”

“I promised, Aunt Helena. I can hardly ignore a promise.” Lilah was feeling more cheerful by the moment. It would be good to see Olivia again, to have a nice long chat about books. Much as she loved and respected her aunt, Helena was not a reader. Maybe Kyria would be there, too. Or the duchess.

“Of course not,” her aunt agreed reluctantly. “I just thought now that the wedding is over, you wouldn’t be seeing them as much.”

“I haven’t seen them. It’s been four days,” Lilah reminded her. “I should go now so I’ll be back in time for our afternoon calls.” She turned toward the door.

“It’s rather early for paying a call, don’t you think? Not yet noon.”

“The Morelands pay no attention to things like that.”

“I know,” Aunt Helena said darkly. “Well, if you must go, take your maid with you.”

“Aunt Helena…I hardly need a chaperone to go from here to Broughton House in broad daylight.”

“Of course not, dear. It’s how it would look.”

“Society’s rules are not so rigid anymore,” Lilah protested.

“That may be. But that’s no reason for us to lower our standards.”

“Poppy has several things to do—um, mending my clothes and, uh…”

“I wish I hadn’t sent Cuddington to the apothecary. She could accompany you.”

“No, no, I’ll take Poppy with me.” The last thing Lilah wanted was to drag her aunt’s dour maid along with her.

Lilah hurried upstairs, calling for her maid, and opened her wardrobe closet. Her casual morning dress would not do for paying a visit; it required something more stylish—this honey-colored walking dress with the rust-brown piping, for instance. It went well with the reddish-blond color of her hair, and the nipped-in waist gave her tall, willowy figure a more fashionable hourglass shape.

She could wear her new half boots. They were, perhaps, a trifle unusual, with their paisley print and curved line of gold buttons, but the colors went well with her dress, and anyway, no one would see them beneath her skirts. Well, except someone like Con, of course, who apparently made it a habit to keep an eye on ladies’ ankles. But that sort of man was not interested in either fashion or propriety.

She set off for the Morelands’ home, book in hand, Poppy trailing along a few steps behind her. It was annoying having to take her along. Perhaps Lilah should visit her home in Somerset, where she could hike wherever she wanted and not worry what society might think. It would provide her with an escape from the tedious round of courtesy calls—not to mention Sir Jasper’s attentions. She could relieve her boredom.

The problem, of course, was that Aunt Vesta was there. Lilah hadn’t stayed at Barrow House since her father’s sister had returned. Lilah had been fond of her as a child, but children were so undiscerning, so easily pleased. And Aunt Vesta hadn’t yet plunged the family into scandal.

Smeggars, the Morelands’ butler, greeted Lilah with a smile but said, “I fear the duchess is out today.”

“It was actually Lady St. Leger I wished to see.”

“Lady St. Leger is with the duchess.”

“I’m sorry. I should have inquired before I came,” Lilah said in disappointment.

“Perhaps you would like to speak with the duke or, um…”

“No, I’ll just leave this,” Lilah began, holding out the book.

At that moment Con came trotting lightly down the stairs. “Miss Holcutt.” He grinned. “The ladies are all out. I’m afraid you’ll have to make do with me.” He turned to the butler. “I think tea would be in order.”

“Of course, sir.”

“No,” Lilah protested as the butler left. “I mustn’t stay. I was going to the bookstore, and I remembered that Olivia—Lady St. Leger, that is—had expressed an interest in reading one of my books.” Lilah realized she was babbling and clamped her lips together. It was annoying that she should be so jittery and embarrassed at seeing Con again, whereas he was so obviously, so coolly unaffected.

“That sounds like Livvy.” Con reached out and took the book from her hands. “Ah, Wilkie Collins. Yes, she will enjoy reading it.”

“She said his stories were favorites of hers, but she had not read this one.”

“Please, sit down.” He took her arm without asking and steered her down the hall toward the sitting room. “All the women except Anna left earlier. Anna had one of her terrible headaches and had to stay behind.”

“I’m sorry.” Lilah resisted the urge to sit down as he had suggested. There was no reason to stay. She had run her errand. She shouldn’t sit down for a tête-à-tête alone with a man. Yet she lingered. “They’re on a shopping expedition?”

Con let out a crack of laughter. “No, Mother’s taken them to one of her suffragists’ dos. They’re standing vigil in front of Edmond Edmington’s house.”

“Edmond Edmington?” Lilah couldn’t hold back a smile.

“Yes, he had alliterative if unimaginative parents. Sit down, Miss Holcutt, please. Smeggars will be crushed if you don’t stay for tea and petits fours. He’s always trying to turn Mother’s meetings into parties, with little success.”

“No, I should be going. I was just—” She gestured toward the door, taking a step backward.

“Going to the bookstore. Yes, I know.” His eyes twinkled. “Come, Lilah, I won’t make any unwanted advances…not with Smeggars lurking about.”

What if they weren’t unwanted, she thought, then blushed at her wayward mind. “You would make some jest about it.”

“About what?” he asked innocently, moving closer.

“You know what.” She scowled. “What we—the other evening on the terrace.”

“Ah.” He leaned in, far too close for polite behavior. “You mean when we talked?” His eyes widened in mock shock. “Unchaperoned.”

“Yes.” Her word came out in little more than a whisper. Irritated, she cleared her throat and went on in a firm voice. “No. I mean it was more than that. We were—we almost…”

“Yes?” His eyes danced. “We almost…”

She had known he would tease her. She should not have come here. “Oh, stop it. Just leave me alone.”

“Of course.” He sighed and stepped back. It was what she wanted, yet perversely she felt let down at his easy acquiescence.

She should go now. It was silly to be so reluctant. Lilah drew a breath to say goodbye but was brought up short by a shout from upstairs. “Reed! Someone!”

“Anna!” Con ran from the room.

Lilah followed him. When she reached the bottom of the staircase, Con was already halfway up the flight to his sister-in-law, who stood still and staring, her face deathly white.

“They’ve been taken!” Anna cried. “You have to save them.”

She folded after that pronouncement, and Con grabbed her, easing her down to sit on the stairs. “Here, put your head down. Just breathe. Slowly now.”

Steps pounded down the long stretch of the gallery, and Reed burst into view, his face almost as drained of color as his wife’s. “Anna! What happened? What’s the matter?”

Reed leaped up the stairs, pulling his wife into his arms and cradling her against his chest. Con stepped back. “Reed, she was saying—I think she’s having one of her visions.”

One of her visions?

Con’s words didn’t seem to shock Reed, who only cursed and continued to stroke Anna’s back. “It’s all right, sweetheart. Everything’s fine.”