A Summer Seduction (12 page)

“Edith is here?” Damaris smiled, warmed by the idea of his thoughtfulness. She gave Rawdon her hand and stepped down from the hackney. “That is very good of you.”

Inside, Genevieve and Lady Rawdon waited for them, looking so much the same that one could almost have believed no time had passed. Lady Rawdon’s hands were busy with a piece of needlepoint, but Damaris noted that Genevieve’s embroidery hoop lay idly in her lap. She shoved it aside when they entered and rose lithely to her feet.

“Are you all right?” Her eyes skated over Rawdon, then Myles, and she relaxed fractionally. “I assume from your lack of bruises and cuts that you did not get into a mill.”

“Lady Genevieve, I am touched to hear your concern,” Myles told her, grinning.

“I am always concerned for my brother’s well-being,” Genevieve retorted, shooting Myles a quelling look. “Especially when he is in the company of a scapegrace.” She turned to Rawdon. “Did you find the men you were seeking?”

“I fear not,” Alec replied. “They had disappeared. Hopefully, something will turn up. In the meantime, Mrs. Howard will be staying with us.”

Damaris could not see that this news excited Genevieve, who merely said, “Of course. Please, allow me to take you up to your room, Mrs. Howard. I am sure you must be exhausted.”

“Thank you, yes.” Damaris took her leave of the others and followed Lady Genevieve out of the room.

Rawdon’s sister said little as she walked up the stairs and along the paneled corridor to Damaris’s room, though Damaris could see from the corner of her eye that Genevieve was watching her with shrewd, assessing eyes. She could hardly blame the girl, of course. Genevieve must wonder who Damaris was and why her brother was taking such an interest in her. No doubt she found it forward of Damaris to run to Rawdon for help. In Genevieve’s place, Damaris suspected that she, too, would be wary of her. Still, it did not make Damaris any more comfortable in Genevieve’s aloof company.

“Here is your chamber,” Genevieve said, stopping in front of one of the doors and opening it. “I hope you will find everything acceptable. Just ring for a servant if you need anything.”

“I am sure it is perfect,” Damaris told her honestly. She doubted that much was ever out of place or lacking in a household run by the countess or her granddaughter. “Thank you. It is good of you to take in a stranger like this. I am sorry to impose so on you.”

Genevieve gave her a smile that did not reach her eyes and said, “Pray do not consider it. Rawdon is a generous man.”

On that ambiguous note, she nodded to Damaris and left. Damaris went into the spacious room, which was decorated with the same formal elegance as the rest of the house, with velvet draperies of a deep russet and a tester and bed hangings of the same material. Coals glowed in the small fireplace, warming the evening coolness, and Damaris’s maid was at the dresser, laying out her silver-backed brushes.

“Oh, ma’am!” she cried, turning and seeing Damaris. “I’m
ever so glad to see you. I was worried when you didn’t come home!” She took Damaris’s hand and pulled her toward the vanity table. “Here, let’s take off those clothes and get you a bath. Then you’ll feel more the thing.”

Damaris sank down onto the stool in front of the mirror, and Edith went to work taking the pins from Damaris’s hair. With a sigh of relief, Damaris closed her eyes and gave herself up to her maid’s competent ministrations.

“Ah! Excellent!” Myles took another
sip of his brandy and leaned his head back against the chair.

Alec sank into the chair across from his friend and stretched out his long legs in front of him, crossing them at the ankles. He swirled the liquid idly in his glass. “I thought we were never going to get away from the countess. Lord, what a night.”

Myles grinned. “Yes. I have to tell you, your grandmother frightens me silly.”

Alec chuckled. “You are not the only one. She’s terrorized Castle Cleyre ever since I can remember. However, she likes you, so you needn’t worry.”

“Good. I should hate to be in her bad graces.”

“Well, I know that state well, and I can tell you that it is not pleasant. I suspect she will freeze me for the next fortnight to demonstrate her displeasure.”

“Does the countess dislike Mrs. Howard?” Myles asked, surprised. “She seems a most agreeable and refined woman to me.”

“She does not
know
Mrs. Howard,” Alec told him. “And that is even worse, in Grandmother’s eyes. Worse, rather
than allowing the countess an opportunity to grill the lady on her ancestors and life history, I whisked Mrs. Howard off. I am sure she suspects there’s something deeply smoky about the woman. No lady, to the countess’s way of thinking, would get herself carried off by ruffians.”

“It is a demmed peculiar thing,” Myles commented. “Who do you suppose those men are? Why were they after Mrs. Howard?”

“Beyond the obvious?” Rawdon shook his head. “I have no idea. She said she’d never seen either one of them and had no idea why they attacked her. Clearly, she would stir any man’s lustful nature, but still…”

“Not the sort of thing one would think would happen in Mayfair, particularly in daylight. Didn’t she say she’d just stepped out of her carriage?”

“Yes, and she had only to walk a few feet to her door. I think it is clear that they were lying in wait for her. It was no happenstance.”

“What do you plan to do?” Myles asked.

“I’ll set my Bow Street Runner on it. See what he can find out.”

“You are the only gentleman I know who has his own Bow Street Runner,” Myles pointed out.

“There are those who would dispute terming me a gentleman.” Rawdon smiled faintly. “The problem is that, other than seeing she doesn’t go out without an escort, I am not sure what to do.”

“It might be best if Mrs. Howard returned to Chesley,” Myles suggested.

“Mm.” Rawdon went back to studying his drink.

Myles was silent for a moment, watching his friend, then said casually, “Mrs. Howard is certainly a beautiful woman.”

“Yes.”

“I was surprised to learn she was in London. Did you, ah, know she was coming here?”

“Ran into her at the theater the other night.”

“I see. And when you introduced her to Lady Genevieve, she decided to invite Mrs. Howard to her ball?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm. Odd, Lady Genevieve taking to someone quickly like that.”

Rawdon glanced up and met Myles’s twinkling eyes. “Yes, isn’t it?”

He stood up and strolled over to the liquor cabinet to retrieve the decanter, then returned to replenish both their drinks.

“Rawdon…” Myles began when his friend sat down again. “I’m beginning to think that you are developing a
tendre
for our Mrs. Howard.”

“I? I believe it was you who kept dangling after the woman last Christmas.”

Myles grinned. “I will admit I enjoyed flirting with her.”

“You enjoy flirting with everyone.”

Myles laughed. “I will not deny that I like the company of women.”

“But what about this particular woman?” Rawdon asked, his gaze sharpening. “Are you enamored of her? Do you mean to woo her?”

Myles’s brows went up at his friend’s suddenly serious tone, but he shrugged and said lightly, “No. Much as I admire the lovely Mrs. Howard, I get along with her far too well to fall in love with her.”

Rawdon cast him a sardonic glance. “Then…”

“Would I object to your pursuing the eminently pursuable Mrs. Howard?” Myles grinned. “Not at all. Indeed, I think it might provide me a good deal of entertainment, watching the chase.”

“That was not what I was about to say.”

“It should have been. Come, Alec, an earl cannot remain unmarried forever. And you would have difficulty finding a better prospect than Mrs. Howard. She is entrancing, and your relatives disapprove. What could be more appealing?”

Rawdon snorted. “I can assure you, my grandmother’s approval—or disapproval—has no role in my pursuit of a woman. But I have no intention of wedding Mrs. Howard or anyone else, for that matter. I am done with such nonsense.”

“But surely you will marry one day.”

“I suppose I must, if only to keep my cousin Hubert from inheriting the title.” Rawdon shrugged. “But I will take a wife as a Stafford does, for her bloodlines, not because in some juvenile way I fancy myself in love.”

Myles glanced at him, his brow furrowing. “Jocelyn was an aberration, you know. Not all women are like her.”

Rawdon downed the rest of his drink. “No? Still, I fear I cannot escape myself.”

D
amaris awoke to find a
pair of bright blue eyes staring at her. They were set in a flat little pink-nosed face with a cloud of white fur bursting out around it. Damaris blinked, surprised. The cat gazed steadily back at her from its perch on the wooden footboard, unblinking and unmoving except for an occasional twitch of its fluffy tail.

“Well,” Damaris said. “And who might you be? I wonder.”

The animal continued to regard her with its unnerving stare. Damaris felt vaguely at a disadvantage lying on the bed, looking up at the cat, so she sat up. At that moment, the door opened and Edith slipped quietly inside. She glanced over and saw the cat, and her mouth twitched in irritation.

“So you managed to get in, did you?” Edith hissed, coming into the room and laying down the dress she was carrying. “I’m sorry, ma’am. He’s been trying to sneak in here this past hour. The chambermaid must have let him in.”

The maid made shooing motions at the cat, and Damaris watched in some amusement as the feline ignored Edith, lifting its paw and beginning to wash it. Finally, just as Edith
started for the small fireplace broom, the cat stood up and jumped lithely to the ground. With a regal air of unconcern, it stalked to the door, its long, full tail held high, and paused at the door, waiting for Edith to open it.

“Sorry,” Edith said again, heaving a gusty sigh as she closed the door behind the cat. “His name is Xerxes, and he belongs to the young miss.”

“Lady Genevieve?” He was, Damaris thought, a perfect pet for Alec’s sister, with the same aristocratic manner and piercing blue eyes. Even the white fur was not far different from Genevieve’s pale blond tresses.

“Yes’m. When I came down the hall this morning, he was climbing the drapes in the hall. They say he likes to lie on top of them and jump down on the maids. He’s a terror, but the young miss is terrible fond of him.”

Damaris thought it better not to comment on the “young miss’s” own personality. After all, she barely knew the girl, and having a visitor thrust upon one like this could not be easy. Besides, perhaps there was more to Genevieve than her frosty manner showed. Alec could scarcely be termed a warm man, either, yet it was clear he had undiscovered depths. Or was she merely indulging in romantic nonsense about him? True, he had come to her aid immediately, and she could not but think that she was right in assuming he was the man to turn to in danger. But it might be simply that he welcomed a fight, not that his concern was aroused. And even if it was, it did not signify. It was beyond foolish for her to think about the Earl of Rawdon.

Indeed, it had been foolish of her to come here. Last night,
as she lay in bed, Damaris had done a good bit of thinking that she had not paused to do earlier, in her panic. When she considered what had happened, it seemed clear to her that it had not simply been a matter of two ruffians deciding to have their way with her. It had not been a spontaneous attack. They had obviously planned it out, had even brought a carriage to carry her away in. They had apparently leased, or at least found, an empty house to bring her to. Of course, there was the possibility of white slavers, but that seemed unlikely. The men had been after her specifically; they had called her name. Why would a ring of white slavers have targeted a woman in such a neighborhood, where they were much more likely to be noticed?

No, those men had had no interest in her other than as the subject for which they were being paid. She felt sure they were acting at someone else’s directive. It seemed equally clear to her who must be behind their actions. There was only one person—or family—who would like to be rid of her. Unfortunately, it was most likely her own grandmother who had hired the ruffians.

It seemed absurd that anyone would go to such lengths to avoid the possibility of a scandal. However, Damaris had no other enemies. After all, the only people she knew in England were her friends in Chesley, and she thought it unlikely in the extreme that any of them would have hired someone to kidnap her. Her grandmother, on the other hand, had been furious with her at the party, and she had obviously feared Damaris would flout her parentage before the
ton
and bring down disgrace on her father’s legitimate family. And while it had been satisfying to defy her grandmother, she could see
that it had perhaps not been the most prudent thing to say. Her attitude had doubtless only increased Lady Sedbury’s fear that Damaris meant to humiliate them, and the woman must have taken steps to make sure it could not happen.