A Study In Seduction (8 page)

Her grandmother’s frown deepened. “We always have jam for our toast. What is that in your hand?”

“This?” Jane looked at the letter as if she’d only just noticed it. “Just a… some mathematical problem Lydia gave me to solve.”

“Well, I suggest you do so in your room rather than wandering about the house.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Jane scurried past her grandmother and up the stairs.

As she returned to the schoolroom, she wondered where this was going—who
C
was and what he wanted from her besides correspondence.

Perhaps she ought to start making more inquiries of the delivery boy and Sophie—learning the letter writer’s identity would be like solving a puzzle in and of itself. Perhaps that was the point of this whole game. Perhaps she was meant to solve the most mysterious puzzle of all.

The pleasure of being loved.
R = Return.

The reaction to the partner’s appeal.
I = Instinct.

The process of forgetting.
O = Oblivion.

If she made certain assumptions on the behavior of the individuals and assigned variables to a positive linear system, and the linear model of
x
₁
(t) = –α
₁
x
₁
(t) + β
₁
x
₂
(t)
…

The pleasure of being loved.

Lydia dropped her pencil. She lifted her head to stare out the window, her heart vibrating like the strings of a violin. No equation could quantify that kind of pleasure. No theorem could explain Lord Northwood’s intent to touch her, which had been so palpable she’d felt it from clear across the room.

She pushed her papers aside and went downstairs. Her own fault, this restless trembling in her veins, the heat of memory. She pushed the longing down deep, alongside the other mistakes that lay buried beneath the crust of time.

The door to her father’s study sat half-open, and Lydia knocked before entering. Her throat constricted at the sight of Sir Henry’s cedarwood desk, the bookshelves crammed with works of Chinese history and literature. She imagined she could still detect the fragrant scent of his pipe smoke. The walls held calligraphic scrolls and Tang dynasty paintings with images of lively horses and riders, mist-covered mountaintops, graceful kingfishers.

Jane sat curled on a sofa by the window, a book on butterflies spread open on her lap. Lydia slipped into the seat beside her and drew the girl close, bending to press a kiss against Jane’s soft brown hair. The bands around her heart loosened as she breathed in the scent of Pears soap.

“You’re all right?” she asked.

“I just miss him.”

“So do I.”

The comfort of shared memories wrapped around
them—Sir Henry patiently teaching them how to write Chinese characters, telling them stories of his youthful travels, playing puzzles and games together.

Throughout Lydia’s childhood, her father had spent much of his time either traveling or working, but his dedication to her, his support of her education, had never wavered. And after Jane was born, he ceased traveling in favor of teaching and studying. His placid, serious presence had been so very, very welcome after the loneliness of Lydia’s childhood and the death of Theodora Kellaway.

And Jane—to Lydia’s utter, complete gratitude—had known only Sir Henry’s unwavering love and devotion.

Jane closed the book and rested her head against Lydia’s shoulder. “Do you think Grandmama really will send me away?”

Lydia looked at her sister. “How did you find out?”

“I couldn’t sleep and came downstairs for a glass of milk. I heard you talking in the drawing room.”

“You oughtn’t have listened.”

“Wouldn’t you have listened if you overheard someone talking about you?”

Lydia chuckled and conceded the point. “I suppose.”

“Do you think she’ll do it?” Jane asked. “Do you think she’ll send me to that school in Paris?”

Lydia searched for a proper response. She could not undermine her grandmother’s authority, but neither could she lie. She opted to evade the question.

“How would you feel if she did?”

When Jane didn’t respond, Lydia’s heart sank. She wished Jane would immediately say she didn’t want to go, but of course her sister didn’t respond to anything without thinking it through.

“I don’t know,” Jane finally said. “I’d miss you, of course, and the house. But it’s not as if… I mean, it isn’t as if we ever
go
anywhere, d’you know?”

“That’s not entirely true. We—”

“It is true, Lydia.” Frustration edged Jane’s voice. “The only place I’ve been outside of London was that trip we took to Brighton. At least Paris would be interesting.”

“Yes, it would,” Lydia admitted, though her heart began to feel like a rock.

“And honestly, I’d like to learn piano and French.” Jane turned her head to look at Lydia’s face. “Oh, Lyddie, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t.” Lydia hugged her sister. “I understand what you mean. When I was a few years older than you, I went away to school as well. To Germany.”

“Did you like it?”

Lydia’s stomach knotted. That single year was like a diamond inside her—bright, cold, and hard. In some ways it had opened her to things she could never have anticipated, and in other ways… it had destroyed both her and those closest to her.

“I liked learning new things,” she said. “Everything was different and interesting. But it wasn’t easy. I spoke little German. I didn’t make many friends. I missed home. I often felt alone.”

I was alone.

Even before Sir Henry had agreed to send her to Germany, Lydia had been alone. With her grandmother caring for her mother and her father either away or working… solitude had been Lydia’s sole companion.

Until
him.
The man with the cold green eyes and twisted heart. She shivered.

“What happened when you were there?” Jane asked.

“What—”

“I heard you say something to Grandmama about punishing you for something that happened. Was that in Germany? What was it?”

Panic quivered in Lydia’s chest. She tightened her arm around Jane and kissed the top of her head again. “Nothing you need worry about. It was a very long time ago.”

She released her sister to stand. “Would you like to see the diorama in Regent’s Park this afternoon? It just opened last week.”

“Yes, let’s.” Jane brightened.

“Good. Go upstairs and finish your geography report. We’ll go after lunch.”

Jane hurried from the room.

Lydia picked up the book her sister had left on the sofa. Bright, multicolored butterflies sprang from the pages, each illustration created with meticulous detail. A folded piece of paper stuck out from the back of the book. Lydia slipped it back into place.

She tried to imagine what her life would be like without Jane—and couldn’t. She had her work, yes, but almost everything she’d done for the past eleven years had centered around her sister.

She couldn’t lose Jane. Not yet. Not even if Jane
wanted
to go.

Talia’s hand tightened on Alexander’s arm, her fingers digging in hard as they descended from the carriage into the cold night air. He ignored the pang of regret as he turned to his sister. In a pale blue silk gown, her chestnut-brown hair perfectly coiffed, she looked lovely and brittle.
She’d applied a slight excess of rice powder, which gave her a cold, masklike expression.

He put his hand over hers. “Talia, it won’t do any good to look as if you’re heading to the gallows.”

“Five hundred pounds, Alex. I told Mr. Sewell of the Ragged School Union to expect your bank draft on Monday.”

“If you act as if you’re enjoying yourself, I’ll add a hundred pounds to that.”

She flexed her fingers on his arm as if making an effort to relax. “If Lord Fulton is here, I’m leaving straightaway.”

“What about Fulton?” Sebastian asked, clambering out of the carriage after them.

“Last week, Alex suggested to his lordship that I would be amenable to a marriage offer,” Talia replied.

Sebastian let out a noise that was a half snort, half laugh. “Fulton? Good God, Alex, what are you trying to do? Send our Talia running to a nunnery?”

“A far more attractive prospect than Fulton, I daresay,” Talia agreed, turning to Sebastian. “Your brother took it upon himself to make the suggestion to Lord Fulton before discussing it with me.” She threw Alexander a withering glance. “Likely because he knew what my response would be. So I found myself the object of some great joke since everyone at the theater knew about it except me. It was humiliating.”

“You could do worse,” Alexander muttered.

“Oh, could I? Did you know Lord Fulton believes no one else will offer for me because of my Russian blood? That
he’s
the only one willing to overlook such a travesty?”

Alexander frowned. “He said that?”

Talia gave Sebastian an exasperated look. He winked at her.

“You’re the one who’s got to say yes, old girl. Not him.”
He nodded in Alexander’s direction. “Though I do hear Fulton’s sister is getting a bit desperate. Long in the tooth, you know, and wide in the hips. Muddled in the head, too, no doubt.”

“Sounds an ideal prospect for
you
, Alex.” Some of Talia’s tension eased a little as she and Sebastian exchanged wry grins. “Considering you’re thirty-two, perhaps you’d do well to focus on your own marital prospects rather than attempting to control mine.”

Alexander turned away as they entered the foyer, not knowing whether his irritation was a result of his siblings’ behavior or Fulton’s alleged comments. He sighed. Bribing his sister to attend a ball with him was not the way he wished to move about in society, but the stubborn chit gave him no other option.

After the butler greeted them, they entered the ballroom, which was crowded with well-dressed men and women circling the room like ships in a harbor. Music, laughter, and conversation mingled in the air.

“Why, Lord Northwood. Lady Talia and Mr. Hall as well.” The Marquess of Hadley, who was the president of the Royal Society of Arts Council, and his wife approached. “We weren’t expecting you.”

“The Society did intend some of the ticket proceeds to fund the educational exhibition, my lord.”

Hadley coughed, and his wife’s smile wavered a bit.

“Yes, of course,” Hadley replied. “It’s just, you know, this dreadful business with Russia. Seems to be coming to a head now.”

Lady Hadley waved her hand and stretched her smile wider. “But never mind all that. It’s so nice to see you all here. Do enjoy yourselves.”

Not likely
, Alexander thought. “Go along with Lady Hadley, Talia,” he suggested.

His sister gave him a mild glare but, along with Sebastian, accompanied the woman toward a group by the hearth.

“What about the
dreadful business
?” Alexander asked Hadley.

“The council wishes to convene a meeting to address the, er, specter of war with Russia,” Lord Hadley said. “They’re concerned about its effect on the exhibition. Announcement of the meeting is expected at the end of the week.”

“Where does the concern lie?”

“The French commissioner to the exhibition, Monsieur Bonnart, has indicated there’s a growing anti-Russian sentiment among the French public. He does not wish his country’s involvement in the exhibition to indicate any contrary sympathies.”

Alexander frowned. “This is not a Russian exhibition.”

“I know, Northwood, but it’s the inclusion of the Russian section that is causing a bit of consternation. The French are giving quite a bit of financial assistance to the Society for this. Just don’t want any trouble, you know?”

“I shouldn’t think there will be,” Alexander said. “Lord Hadley, tell the council members I will prepare a speech on the matter that will allay their concerns.”

He gave a nod of dismissal and went to get a drink. He’d been aware of the growing anti-Russian sentiment over the course of the year, especially after the Russian navy obliterated a Turkish fleet last November. The event caused a wave of antipathy toward the czar and strengthened the push for a declaration of war, which appeared likely any moment now.

Alexander swallowed some brandy, disliking the
unease evoked by Hadley’s remarks. As vice president of the Society of Arts, he’d proposed this exhibition to celebrate the Society’s one hundredth anniversary, but he’d had an ulterior motive as well.

The educational exhibition would focus on the positive aspects of British education and include international displays to promote the necessity of free trade between Great Britain and other countries. Yet the exhibition would also be Alexander’s triumph—a display of brilliant ideals that would reflect back onto him and thus remove shadows of scandal from the earldom.

But if his ties to Russia were to be linked to the political climate… well, he refused to allow the council to use that against him or let it affect the exhibition. Not after all he’d done.

He went to refill his glass but stopped, his gaze moving to where a handsome blond man stood speaking with Talia. Stiffness lined Talia’s posture, her entire body drawn back as the man stood too close.

Alexander tensed and started forward, only to be stayed by a hand on his arm. Sebastian shook his head.

The blond man grasped Talia’s arm. When he bent even closer to speak to her, she tried to pull away, her features tightening. Alexander shook off Sebastian’s hand and strode toward their sister.

Before he reached her, a tall man with sun-streaked brown hair stopped beside Talia. With one movement, Lord Castleford gripped the blond man’s arm and twisted him away. He stepped between them, shielding Talia with his body. He muttered a few words that caused the younger man to hunch his shoulders and skulk away.

In almost the same movement, Castleford pressed a
hand to Talia’s lower back, guiding her onto the dance floor as the music began.

Alexander glanced around, realizing Castleford had accomplished his mission with such stealth that no one except them had noticed the unpleasant little scene.

“I saw him approaching,” Sebastian explained, “and he’s far more discreet than you would have been. Care to tell me again that I don’t give a whit for society’s opinion?”