A Heartless Design (9 page)

The house, unsurprisingly, looked less sinister in the daytime. Part of the building was older, with narrow windows and fretwork done in stone. On either side of the original house, though, more modern wings had been built. These boasted larger multipane windows and cleaner lines. The house was not large, but would still be extremely generous for two women and the small household they would require.

The grounds were lush with greenery and thousands of flowers in various linked gardens. Thorne glimpsed the corner of a building that served as a mews and stable and carriage house. A narrow framed young man was just brushing down a horse, and he paused in his work to look at Thorne. Thorne caught something odd in the man’s gaze…a certain kind of insolence. Then he shrugged off the feeling. There was no reason to suspect the servants of anything. The property showed every sign of being well cared for.

He walked up the wide stone steps. He had barely dropped the heavy knocker once when the door swung open. A petite maid appeared behind the heavy door. “Good afternoon.”

“Is Mrs Wharton at home?” he asked, presenting his card. “I am a friend of hers.”

“I will find out, my lord,” the girl curtseyed, very precisely.

“It’s been quite a while, but I hope she will remember me.”

“Please step inside. Just a moment, my lord.” The maid disappeared through a set of heavy doors, one left open just enough to let the girl slip through. It was, of course, perfectly acceptable for someone to decide to whom they were “at home,” but Sebastien had long ago decided that it was a stupid custom. Though the maid’s voice was pitched low, he caught her words.

“A Lord Thorne to see Mrs Wharton, my lady. He says he is a friend.”

My lady?
Thorne wondered at the term. He thought he’d learned the names of everyone in the house, and there was certainly no mention of anyone with a title. So who was the maid talking to? There was a period of silence, but Thorne wasn’t sure if he simply could not hear a reply. The little maid came back.

“Mrs Wharton is not in the house at the moment, my lord. But Miss Bering is, and she said that if you would not mind joining her and her guest for a moment, Mrs Wharton will be here shortly.” The longer speech gave Sebastien a chance to better hear her accent, and he was momentarily confused. Her voice had no traces of a lower-class accent. She sounded like a lady herself.

“I do not mind at all,” he said, smiling. Inwardly, he was still puzzling over the
my lady
. Perhaps the maid was new, and misspoke out of nervousness. She took his hat and bore it away to some cloakroom. A certain mechanical air about her movements attracted his attention. It was just slightly off, as if it wasn’t quite natural. He decided again that she must be new to the job.

“This way, my Lord,” the parlormaid said, and led him down the hallway through the doors to a small study in the new wing, where two people were sitting.

Seeing them, he stopped short, dumbfounded, although part of him should have expected this. Miss Bering, looking as gorgeous as before, was the woman from the gardens. The same one who nearly seduced him without any effort…and the one he suspected was a spy.

Cordelia was stunned by the
appearance of the man she knew only as a devastatingly handsome mystery, and the one she thought had been watching her house earlier. She’d convinced herself she was wrong, but perhaps she shouldn’t be so quick to absolve him.

“Lord Thorne, ma’am,” Ivy announced, even as she saw her employer’s expression. The maid glanced nervously around the room.

“Thank you,” Cordelia said distantly. Then she blinked, and was the mistress of herself once more. “Please find Aunt Leona—Mrs Wharton, that is—in the gardens and let her know she has a guest. Now.” She nodded to her maid with a significant look.

Ivy curtsied and left the room.

Cordelia glanced once at Jay, and then at the designs spread on the table between them. Although there was no reason for the papers to be hidden—after all, they weren’t even hers—she was uncomfortable with this particular man perusing such work in her house. If only she had learned his name last night when he found her in the garden! She would have known what to expect today.

Her friend caught the look and moved to put the papers away. Before he could, Sebastien stepped right up to look at the papers as if he had every right in the world to do so.

“Miss Bering, I am sorry. I have no one else here to offer a formal introduction,” he began.

He didn’t look the least bit sorry to her. “It is too bad that my aunt is still on her way inside,” Cordelia replied.

Fortunately, Jay redirected Thorne’s attention. “Good afternoon. I am William Jay, sir,” he said, standing up. “How do you do?”

Thorne acknowledged him with a brief, almost mocking bow. “How do you do. I do hope I’m not interrupting anything important.”

Cordelia was now certain she did not like the idea of Lord Thorne and Jay in the same room. She cleared her throat, and then said lightly, “Certainly not. In fact, Mr Jay was just on his way out. He has a number of other calls to make.”

“But you both look to be hard at work on those…what are these?” He leaned over the designs and made a show of examining them. “Is this for a boat of some type?”

She took a breath, then said, “Yes, it is for a boat of some type. My dear friend Mr Jay is an engineer.” She stressed the
dear friend
slightly.

“Is the boat for you?”

“For me?” Cordelia asked.

“Why is he showing you plans for a boat?”

“That is none of your business,” Jay said, affronted.

“It’s all right,” Cordelia said, smiling at Jay to reassure him. She turned to Thorne, losing the smile. “Mr Jay was one of my father’s last students. He was showing off his latest work to me. I think it’s very kind of him to remember his teacher’s family so well.”

Sebastien looked nonplussed. “Of course,” he managed. “Most thoughtful.”

“But alas, he does need to be going,” Cordelia went on, throwing Jay an encouraging glance.

“I could certainly stay until Mrs Wharton returns,” Jay offered, even as he began to put the plans back into his leather case.

“That’s not necessary,” Cordelia said. “I do not wish to put you to any trouble. Thank you so much for calling on me.”

“Very well, Miss Bering,” Jay said, then coughed. “I am glad to leave you in good health. Please convey my message to Mr Lear, and do let me know if there is
anything
at all I can do to aid him.”

“I will,” Cordelia assured him. “Now you must hurry on. I wouldn’t want to make you late for your other appointments.”

Still with misgivings, Jay fled the room, followed by Thorne’s cool gaze. “Mr William Jay,” he said quietly. Cordelia didn’t like his tone at all.

She stood up, watching Sebastien as though he were a panther about to strike. “So you are Lord Thorne. And I am to believe you actually do know my aunt?” Cordelia asked skeptically.

“Yes, although I think the last time I saw her I was about thirteen years old. She is the one I hoped to find here today.” He smiled in a way that almost made him look harmless. Almost. “I’ll be honest, Miss Bering. I did not expect to meet you again. And certainly not here, nor in this capacity.”

“What capacity are you referring to?” she asked.

“I am most interested in renewing some old acquaintances, now that I’ve been elevated to my father’s title.”

“Why now?” she asked.
Why right after someone robbed me and you tried to seduce me?

“I am just back from abroad, and I find the adjustment to London rather jarring. I like to have people I can trust about me.”

“Yes, you said you traveled.” Cordelia said in an even voice. “Are you back from France?”

“Yes, in fact,” he replied, his expression becoming far more guarded.

“Is it very difficult to come and go, considering the tensions between our governments?” Cordelia knew she shouldn’t goad him, but she couldn’t resist. There was something very wrong about his appearance at her house.

“I’ve never been one to let obstacles get in my way,” he said.

“Of that I have no doubt, my lord,” Cordelia looked him directly in the eyes. Before he could respond, Leona stepped into the room.

“Cordelia, darling, Ivy told me we had a guest…” Leona’s face lit up. “My Heavens! It can’t possibly be…Sebastien Thorne!”

“Mrs Wharton. How do you do.” He bowed, and smiled a bit smugly. He plainly enjoyed the look on Cordelia’s face.

“So you do know each other,” she said.

“Oh, yes. What a surprise,” Leona laughed, the silvery sound temporarily disarming them both. “Sebastien Thorne. Except you’re not just Thorne any more, are you? I’d heard something…”

“He is the Earl of Thornbury,” Cordelia said, recalling the words on the card she’d been shown.

Leona raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? You must be introduced to my niece, Miss Cordelia Bering.”

“We are acquainted already,” Cordelia said, then bit her tongue. Oh, how could she ever explain the manner in which they’d actually met?

Sebastien was amused at her discomfort, knowing its source. “So we are. Meeting your niece was a most charming discovery. But I didn’t know until just now that she was related to you. And it is you I hoped to see, as I have very fond memories of you.”

“Heavens, but you were just a boy when I saw you last. In Cheshire, it must have been, when Walter and I stayed at your family’s home.” 

“You have a good memory. You were very kind to me and my brother. Even when we came into the dining room dripping wet from the rainstorm.”

Leona laughed again, remembering the scene. “Your mother was most concerned about the carpet. Did it survive?”

“It was forever changed,” he admitted. “But tell me how you have been. You live here in London now?”

Cordelia explained, “My aunt came to stay with us several years ago, not long before my father died.” 

“I was only recently widowed at the time,” Leona added.

“So Alfred Bering was your brother?”

“Exactly so.” Leona smiled at him. “How time flies. Look at you. And now you must be married with children of your own.”

“No.” Sebastien laughed a little. “I expect I shall remain a bachelor until I die.”

“Not if you’re now the Earl of Thornbury, I expect,” Leona said. Then she frowned. “But if I recall, you are the younger son.”

“My brother George died just over a year ago,” he explained. “An accident while riding. I was in France at the time, and I could not return for many weeks.”

Cordelia watched his expression, and sensed that his brother’s death still hurt painfully. She suddenly felt cheap for attacking him about his motives in calling. “I am sorry for your loss, sir. We did not mean to summon bad memories.”

“I don’t need any aid to summon them, Miss Bering.” 

For a moment, she felt only sympathy for him.

“Let us not dwell on the past,” Leona said hastily. “And certainly not when we can do nothing to alter it.”

“As you wish, Mrs Wharton,” he said, turning his attention back to the older woman. “How can I brighten your present, then?”

“You might start by telling me how you know my niece. I don’t remember Cordelia ever mentioning she was acquainted with you.”

Cordelia interjected hastily, “I cannot remember who introduced us just at the moment.” She didn’t want her aunt to have an inkling of the real events surrounding their meeting. She hated that her subterfuge meant trusting Sebastien to go along with her lie, but he appeared to be game, judging by his tiny wink at her.

He said, “I can’t remember either. Once I saw Miss Bering, I forgot everything else.”

“Pretty words, sir,” Leona said, a smile lighting her face. “You’d best watch yourself if you wish to remain a bachelor.”

“I shall remember your advice, Mrs Wharton,” he replied easily. Cordelia could tell that her aunt was charmed.

Sebastien continued to charm her by explaining that he hoped to widen his circle of acquaintances, and wished specifically to cultivate those people he had known before he became earl, since those were people he could be sure of. Cordelia, though still suspicious of him in general, had to admit his plan made perfect sense.

After a few more moments of inconsequential banter, Leona turned to her niece. “But Cordelia, my dear, are we keeping you? Don’t you have to attend Lady Priestley’s dinner tonight?”

“That’s tomorrow evening, Auntie,” she corrected.

“Is it really? I could have sworn…” She looked rather flustered. Watching them both, Sebastien wore a slight, satisfied smile.

Cordelia didn’t like it. “Does something amuse you, sir?”

“Only the fact that you once told me that you were not a social butterfly. Yet it seems you’re about all of London. Gough’s ball last night, a dinner party tomorrow. You underrate your appeal, Miss Bering.”

“Exactly what I have always said!” Leona chimed in. “Perhaps you can talk some sense into her. My niece would shut herself away from the world if she could.”

“That would be a crime and a great deprivation to society.” 

Cordelia marveled at how sincere he sounded. “Your
words
are very kind, sir,” she said, keeping her tone as neutral as possible.

“He only speaks the truth, Cordelia. You should not hide away here. I know the unpleasantness last night upset you, but…”

“What was that?” Thorne asked quickly.

Leona lost no time in relating the drama of the previous night, at least the version that Stiles and Cordelia had given her earlier. Thorne listened with every appearance of surprise and concern. Cordelia watched, her eyes narrowed as she tried to see a chink in his facade. But she only began to doubt herself. She hadn’t seen the man in the garden clearly. Perhaps it wasn’t Thorne after all.

But then, why was he here now? Whether he was the thief or not, it was too much for coincidence that he would simply show up on her aunt’s doorstep the day after he met Cordelia and kissed her insensible.

“…don’t you think, Cordelia?” Leona asked.

She blinked rapidly. “I’m sorry? My mind has wandered.”

“Lord Thorne was asking about the stolen items. Of your father’s. He has very generously offered to help in their recovery.”