An Artful Seduction (10 page)

Chapter Twelve

Eliza faced Dorian Reed with her fists at her sides. “I won’t give you a lion’s share of my shop.”

Reed ignored her and went to an end table and pulled out a piece of foolscap. A nearby pen and inkwell followed.

He approached with the paper in hand, and his cruel gaze crossed hers. “You
will
sign over your business to me. Start writing. ‘I, Eliza Somerton, of sound mind and body, give sixty percent of all profits from the Peacock Print Shop to Dorian Reed effective immediately.’”

“I said I won’t do it!”

His voice was cold and exact. “I said start writing.”

“Go to the constable, if you dare. You will undoubtedly be arrested as Jonathan Miller’s accomplice,” she said.

Reed laughed harshly. “Who said anything about involving the constable?” His eyes narrowed. “It’s quite simple, really. You repay your father’s debt, or your family will come to harm.”

She felt the blood drain from her face at the thought of Amelia and Chloe in danger. “How did you know…”

Just as the words were out of her mouth, she realized her mistake. He
hadn’t
known of her siblings.

But he did now.

“I knew there were more of you,” he said smugly. “Brothers? Sisters?” At Eliza’s silence, he shrugged. “I can only assume there are sisters. It’s highly unlikely that a brother would allow you to come to my doorstep unchaperoned.”

Something inside of her snapped then, pushing her fear beneath the surface.

No one threatened her sisters. If there was one thing Eliza had learned from the years since her father’s abandonment it was that a woman must never display weakness. Many men—customers and artists alike—had expressed lurid interest. She was a widow without any living male relatives, a woman who worked for a living, and therefore unprotected in society. She had managed by showing an unwavering confidence to the outside world.

But now Dorian Reed threatened everything she cared for.

Her sisters.

Her business.

Desperation mingled with hatred for the man who stood before her. The print shop was their livelihood, their key to survival. And even if she gave him more than half of her business, she knew deep in her bones Dorian Reed wouldn’t be satisfied for long.

Men like him never were.

There was only one course of action left to her. Her eyes darted to the sideboard, where the sword and double-barreled pistol lay, subjects of Reed’s charcoal sketch.

I must appear calm. Distract him with questions.

“What about my father? Do you know where he is?” she asked.

Reed halted. “I have information you want.”

She made herself smile coyly. “Perhaps we can make an arrangement. I’ll write anything you want, if you tell me what you know.” She inched slowly toward the sideboard.

“I can be quite agreeable,” he said.

Eliza nervously licked her bottom lip, and his gaze dropped to her mouth. The lustful look in his eyes was unmistakable.

“You’re an attractive woman, Eliza Somerton,” he drawled.

Bile rose up her throat, and she forced herself not to show her disgust.
Act the part, Eliza. It must be the performance of your life.

She tilted her head and regarded him. “You’re much younger than I expected, Mr. Reed.”

“Call me Dorian.” He followed her, slowly stalking.

Her back brushed the sideboard. She struggled to recall which weapon was on top, the sword or the pistol.

Which would be more deadly?

“Dorian,” she said.

Reed stood close now. He was breathing heavily and his breath smelled of onions and tobacco. His eyes dropped to her mouth.

Her hand groped behind her, searching for the sword, but instead settled on the butt of the pistol. Panicked and out of time, she shoved him hard with her free hand and aimed the pistol at his chest.

“Move and I’ll shoot,” she said, cocking the first hammer.

A flicker of alarm crossed his face before his eyes narrowed to slits. “I see you inherited your father’s cutthroat demeanor as well.”

Her father cutthroat? She wanted to laugh at the statement. He may have been immoral and greedy, but as far as she knew, he had never physically threatened others.

“Tell me what you know,” she demanded.

“How do you intend to leave here, my dear? One shout and my man will come running. Do you intend to shoot us both?”

She cocked the second hammer. “There is a barrel for each of you.”

A twisted smile crossed his face. “I’m duly impressed by your fierce tenacity, Mrs. Somerton. You’ll make a fine business partner. There’s only one problem with your current plan to escape.”

Her composure was a fragile shell around her. Her hand trembled. “What might that be?”

Still smiling, his cold gaze passed over her. “You’re assuming the pistol is loaded, then? You should have gone for the sword.”

He lunged for the weapon.

She pulled the trigger.

A click sounded. No explosive crack.

For a heart-pounding instant, she stood holding the pistol and he smiled knowingly.

Instinctively, she threw the gun at his head just as his hand snaked out to grasp her with strong fingers.

Before she could make it past the sideboard she found herself pulled roughly and hurled toward a settee. Reed was upon her in a flash, holding her down with his body.

“You like a chase, then? I can accommodate you.”

His mouth was on hers, wet and bruising. She pushed against his chest, but he had a wiry strength. She slapped at his ear with her open palm. “Get off!”

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Reed spat, “but if you like it rough, I’m more than happy to oblige.” He grasped her hair and yanked her head back. His hard mouth smothered hers, crushing her lips against her teeth and bloodying her lower lip. His fingers dug into her shoulders through the thin cotton fabric of her gown.

Panic engulfed Eliza. She fought wildly, twisting beneath him, and raised her leg to knee him hard in the groin. He grunted in pain, and she attempted to push him off her.

Suddenly Reed was seized from behind and tossed to the floor.

Grayson’s face was a mask of fury as he towered over Reed.

Reed’s eyes darted from Grayson’s menacing presence to the door. “Sam!” he bellowed.

“Don’t bother,” Grayson growled. “Your guard was easily bribed.”

Reed’s face turned a mottled red. Scrambling to his feet, he lowered his head and charged at Grayson like an enraged bull.

The thud of Grayson’s fist and the crack of Reed’s nose echoed through the room. Bright blood spurted from Reed’s nose and splattered across the floorboards. Reed stumbled back, tripped on the easel. He fell hard on his backside, toppling the easel, canvas, and scattering a box of charcoal across the hardwood floor.

Clearly dazed, Reed cupped his broken nose, howling in pain.

Grayson rounded on Eliza. His brows were drawn downward, his expression tense. “What the hell were you thinking by coming here alone?”

Her eyes were wide as she stared at the crimson flowing between Reed’s fingers. “I…I—”

“Good God, Eliza. Are you hurt?” Grayson demanded.

“No,” she said, and then gave a squeak of alarm as Reed struggled to rise.

Grayson whirled and grasped Reed’s shirtfront and hauled him to his feet. “I assume the lady advised you of my impending visit.”

Blood seeped through Reed’s fingers as he nodded.

“I want to know if a stolen Rembrandt recently came onto the market,” Grayson said.

Reed wiped his nose on his sleeve, leaving a streak of red across his face. “Pickens bid on it.”

“You mean
Viscount
Henry Pickens?” Grayson said.

Reed struggled against Grayson’s hold, but to no avail. “Yes! It was the viscount.”

Eliza couldn’t believe how forthcoming Dorian Reed had become. A broken nose and the cad could not get the words out fast enough.

Grayson shook Reed once. “And the lady’s father? Where is he?”

“The last time I saw Jonathan Miller was two years ago. He never said where he was headed and I didn’t ask,” Reed said.

“Two years ago! He’s alive then?” Eliza said.

Dorian Reed looked at her. His eyes narrowed, but he appeared much less menacing bloodied and in Grayson’s grasp. “Who knows? But I still want my money.”

“What money?” Grayson demanded.

“Her father stole a thousand pounds from me before he disappeared. He’s gone, but she’s here,” Reed said, pointing to Eliza. “I want my money.”

“He wants our shop in exchange for Father’s debt,” Eliza said.

Grayson abruptly released Reed, who stumbled backwards. Reaching into his jacket, Grayson pulled out his purse and threw it at Reed’s feet. It landed with a loud chink of coins. “Take that and don’t ask for more.”

Greed glittered in Reed’s eyes as he bent to retrieve the pouch.

Eliza stared, heart pounding. Shock at Grayson’s gesture caused words to wedge in her throat.

Grayson’s dark eyes narrowed as he glared at Dorian Reed. “In exchange for my gold, you are never to go near the lady in the future. Understood?”

Grayson waited long enough for Reed to nod, then twisted Reed’s shirt in his fist and threw him headlong into the settee.

Grayson’s fingers clamped around Eliza’s wrist. “Let’s go.”

He gave her no choice but to follow along. His hand was like a vice on her arm. They left the house and she dared a glimpse at his profile. A muscle jumped along his tight jaw.

He had a right to be furious, of course. She’d gone behind his back with every intention of obtaining information and keeping it secret. But what did he expect? He wanted her father imprisoned for his crimes. She couldn’t let that happen. She had to find her father first, to finally understand why he’d abandoned his daughters, had never tried to reach out to them.

Grayson strode down the hall and she struggled to keep up with him. She felt light-headed at the sight of the large guard lying face down in the small entry. A garden brick lay close by.

“Lord! Is he dead?”

“No.”

“I thought you bribed him.”

He stepped in front of her, his broad shoulders blocking the body. “There was no time for any sort of negotiation. I knew you were inside.”

He opened the front door, and she saw his fine, crested carriage where her hired hackney had previously stood.

The footman immediately came forward and opened the door. Grayson helped her to board and then sat in the bench across from her, his long legs brushing her skirts.

The carriage started forward with a jingle of harness. Silence hung between them like a heavy cloud. She dared glimpse at him, and the fierceness in his dark eyes gave a stark look to his handsome face. She shivered.

“I understand why you’re angry with me,” Eliza blurted out.

“Oh? Pray, enlighten me.”

“You’re angry because I attempted to learn my father’s whereabouts on my own. That you will miss your opportunity for vengeance.”

“Wrong. I’m furious that you put your life at risk.”

“I’d hardly go so far as to say—”

Grayson leaned close, all solid muscle and menace. She pulled away from him. Her head back against the padded leather bench, she could go no further.

“What would you call it then? Had I not shown up when I did, who knows what that whoreson would have done?” he said.

Her stomach heaved. “You…you must understand. I searched for my father for a full year after his disappearance. If there is a chance…any chance that I can find him, then I must try. If he’s arrested and sent to Newgate before then, I will miss any opportunity.”

“You’re more likely to miss any opportunity if you come to harm.”

“I realize I took a risk.”

“A foolish risk.”

He startled her when he reached out to brush her lower lip with the pad of his thumb. He withdrew his hand, stared at the smear of blood there, and his mouth clenched tight.

“The bastard,” Grayson hissed. He withdrew a kerchief from his waistcoat and gently dabbed at the bruised flesh.

Several long seconds passed while he tended to her.

Gathering her courage she finally spoke. “How did you know where I was?” she whispered.

“Amelia told me when I arrived at the shop. She is worried sick for you.”

Guilt pierced Eliza’s chest. The need to justify her actions arose again. “I didn’t know Father owed Reed money. He threatened to harm Amelia and Chloe if I didn’t sign over more than half of the shop’s profits to him.”

“I’m not surprised.”

She fussed with her skirts. “Thank you for the money. We would have lost the print shop and would be destitute if we were forced to pay Reed. It will take me some time, but I promise to reimburse you every shilling.” Her voice shook.

He ran his fingers through his dark hair and exhaled. “Eliza, when I arrived at the shop and learned that you had gone on your own, I was furious. But not in the way you believe. I was more angry that you put yourself in danger than because you tried to deceive me.”

She froze, her muscles taut. She’d had all her defenses prepared, ready to fight, but this wasn’t a battle. His revelation was as unexpected as it was thrilling. His eyes caught and held hers, and a lurch of excitement skittered through her nerve endings. His gaze hinted of perilous secrets and something else…something more.

Could he possibly care for her?

“Promise me you’ll never do something so reckless again,” he said, his voice tense.

Under his steady scrutiny, her thoughts were jumbled. “I…I don’t know.”

Grasping her shoulders, he gently shook her. “Promise.”

“I shall do my best.”

“Not good enough. I can see you will take some convincing.”

He pulled her into his lap and kissed her. His lips were soft, and he was careful to avoid the tender spot where Dorian Reed had injured her. His mouth played with languid sensuality over hers. After her harrowing experience, Eliza needed to feel the strength of his arms around her. She arched forward against his broad chest. Boldly, she took his cheeks into her palms and pressed her lips to his.

He groaned low in his throat, but to her utter frustration he didn’t deepen the kiss, didn’t plunder her mouth. Instead, he pulled away.