Dance of Seduction (19 page)

And why on earth was she reacting this way to a silly ball? Aunt Verity generally had to drag her to such affairs, and then
Clara spent the whole time trying to convince wealthy people to donate money to the Home.

Aha!
That
was what was wrong with her. This was the first time she’d attended a ball without thinking about donations, the first time she felt free to enjoy herself. It was the only explanation for her urge to dance and have fun. Either that or—

No, she told herself sternly, it had nothing to do with Morgan and the restlessness he provoked in her of late. It had nothing to do with how he looked at her, how those smoldering eyes of his made strange cravings for excitement bubble up inside her belly until she just wanted to whirl and leap and…

Dance.

She sighed. All right, so perhaps it had a teeny bit to do with him. But that wouldn’t stop her from accomplishing her mission here.

“Look, it’s Lord Winthrop, way over there!” Aunt Verity exclaimed as she swayed giddily on her toes in a vain attempt to see above the crush. “We simply must get closer!”

Clara groaned. Yes, definitely a mistake to come here. Aside from the pernicious influence the music had on both her and her aunt, finding Lord Ravenswood in this crowd would take an act of God.

She should have forced the man’s officious clerk to admit her into his lordship’s presence yesterday morning when she’d first arrived there to speak to him. And yesterday afternoon when she’d returned. And this morning when she’d waited for three hours, only to be told he’d gone off heaven knows where and wouldn’t return for the rest of the day.

Of course, nothing short of facing down Lord Ravenswood’s clerk with a pistol would have kept that wretch from doing his civic duty. Which apparently included keeping Clara away from Lord Ravenswood.

Fine. Let the little squirrel bar her from seeing Ravenswood in his office. At least the clerk had no power
here
. Tonight, nothing short of an earthquake would prevent her from accosting the evasive Lord Ravenswood. She only hoped she’d heard the clerk right when he’d told someone else that Lord Ravenswood was attending the Merringtons’ ball.

“Come on,” Aunt Verity said, tugging hard at Clara’s arm. “We must go speak to Lord Winthrop. It would be rude not to.”

Clara rolled her eyes but followed along anyway. She wouldn’t find Lord Ravenswood by standing on the edge of the crowd. “You know, Aunt, I’m beginning to think you should marry Lord Winthrop yourself. How many children does he have? Five? Only think of it—the dogs would thrill to the prospect of having a whole family to enslave. Empress could assess all the boys’ friends for character flaws and run off all the girl’s suitors who weren’t up to snuff.”

“Don’t be silly.” Her aunt threaded her way through the crowd with surprising agility. “His lordship is fifteen years my junior. Why would he want an old woman like me?”

“He’s ten years my senior. Why would
I
want an old man like
him
?”

“That’s hardly old. Besides, it’s not the same, dear, if a
man
is older. Men are supposed to be older.”

“And older men are supposed to be wiser, but I’ve seen little evidence of that in Lord Winthrop.”

“Shhh,” her aunt hissed. “He’ll hear you.”

“What?” They’d gotten so close that he might actually hear her? Good Lord, she should have jumped ship while she’d had the chance. Stealthily she unhooked herself from her aunt in order to head in another direction.

But it was too late.

“Good evening, Lady Clara,” droned the earl, far too near for comfort. “I’m delighted to see you and your aunt in attendance at this fine affair.”

One slight turn and Clara found herself practically nose to nose with Lord Boring. “Why, Lord Winthrop, what a surprise. Given your dislike of frivolous entertainments, I didn’t expect you to be here.”

Lord Winthrop forced a smile, which gave his generally somber face an unfortunate puppetlike appearance. “I do find the occasional party or ball refreshing. Indeed, I was about to ask you if you should like to stand up with me for this next dance.”

It was amazing how being asked by the wrong man completely banished her desire to dance. Yet her search for Lord Ravenswood among the guests had been futile until now. Perhaps swirling about the ballroom would give her a broader view. And give her the chance to discourage Lord Winthrop once and for all.

So she accepted his invitation, and as her aunt looked on beaming, let herself be led onto the floor.

Unsurprisingly, Lord Winthrop’s dancing skills left much to be desired, and more than once he headed the wrong direction in the turns. He was known for his sober temper, penny-pinching, and humorless railings against the lower classes, not for his dancing. Or card playing. Or wild escapades in the stews. In short, he would make the perfect husband for some fresh-faced girl eager to take on a house full of children.

Just not her.

After a few moments dancing, he asked, “How are things at your little Home?”

“Fine.” Busy scanning the room for Ravenswood, she paid Lord Winthrop little heed.

“It is noble of you to try to save children, even if it is a futile enterprise. That sort is beyond redemption, I fear.”

She gritted her teeth. However could Aunt Verity think this man suitable to marry?

He went on, apparently certain of her concurrence. “But it is sound preparation for your having children of your own. I assume that is your eventual intention.”

She swung her startled gaze to him as another turn briefly separated them. His comment was as close as he’d come to hinting that he might be courting her. Then it dawned on her why he was courting her. She worked with children. He had five. He would undoubtedly consider marriage to her a tidy arrangement. For
him
.

When they were together again, she said, “Yes, I would like children of my own some day.”
My own
being the operative words. “But at present I’m content to work with children who need me so much.” A mischievous impulse made her add, “And speaking of my charges, we can always use the help of worthy gentlemen at the Home. If you ever have time on your hands and you’d like to visit, we’d be delighted to put you to work.”

His appalled expression made her chuckle as the dance separated them again. Then while she encircled the adjoining dancer, she spotted her quarry across the room. Lord Ravenswood was headed out of the ballroom into a passageway that led only to the library and the conservatory.

Aha! At last she had him trapped. And the dance was ending, too. Perfect.

As Lord Winthrop came up to lead her off the floor, she wondered if she’d need to plead a headache to extricate herself from him. But her mention of his volunteering at the Home had thankfully been quite enough. Mumbling something about looking for his mother, he left her at her aunt’s side and disappeared.

“Whatever did you say to that poor man to send him fleeing?” Aunt Verity asked.

“I can’t imagine,” Clara said sweetly. “We had a perfectly congenial conversation about the Home.” When her aunt
scowled and looked as if she were about to launch into a lecture, Clara added hastily, “And speaking of the Home, I see someone I must speak to about making a donation. I’ll be back in a moment, Aunt.”

Then she maneuvered her way through the crowd toward the passageway where Lord Ravenswood had disappeared.

Once she’d escaped the crush in the ballroom, she tried the conservatory, but there she found only a young couple, who sprang apart guiltily as soon as she peeked in. Mumbling apologies, she backed out.

That left the library. Lord Merrington generally kept it locked during parties, since he was very protective of his extensive book collection. Still, she headed there on the off chance that the library door might be unlocked.

To her surprise, when she tried the door handle, it turned. This time she was careful not to barge right in. Easing the door open, she peered inside.

She couldn’t see Lord Ravenswood, but she was sure he was in there. She could hear a murmur of voices coming from the large bow window, which was the size of a small room itself. Unfortunately, the two pillars flanking it prevented her from seeing the interior from where she stood.

If that was indeed his lordship in there, to whom did he talk so secretively? Could it be a woman? She should probably return when he was alone, but she didn’t want to miss this chance to speak to him. Deciding to get closer, she slipped inside the library.

Morgan leaned gingerly back in the dainty gilded chair to stare out the bow window at Merrington’s fashionably appointed gardens. Some fellow beneath a tree pressed his attentions on a coy young woman with a fan. Watching them flirt roused Morgan’s envy. They belonged here in a way that he didn’t, despite the well-tailored evening clothes that Se
bastian’s valet had sweated blood bringing to perfection.

This whole affair made him nervous, and not just because of all the lordlings and their ladies who reminded him he wasn’t really one of them. Even the house annoyed him. Velvet drapes, windows he could actually see through, immaculate carpets…it all seemed so clean and orderly after Spitalfields. It made him feel exactly like the fence he pretended to be—ill at ease, awkward, a real denizen of Petticoat Lane. It was all he could do not to tug at his uncomfortably tight cravat.

“Do you think it’s wise to let the Specter twist in the wind by not being at the shop tonight?” Ravenswood asked.

Morgan dragged his thoughts back to the report he’d just finished giving. Ravenswood hadn’t yet revealed why he’d been so eager for this meeting.

Morgan shrugged. “Bowing to the Specter’s dictates won’t force him out into the open. Defying them will.”

“Or it will get you killed.”

“I don’t think I’ve irritated him enough for that yet.” Morgan folded his arms over his chest, only belatedly realizing how that ruined the line of his tailcoat. “Anyway, that’s all the information I have for you tonight. Now it’s your turn. Tell me why you dragged me to this cursed ball.”

Ravenswood sighed. “We have something of a…er…sticky problem concerning Lady Clara. She’s been to the Lambeth Street police to demand that they commence an investigation of you and your shop.”

Morgan just stared at him a moment, not knowing whether to laugh or scream. So the little meddler had finally reported him to the authorities? She must have been really angry over Johnny’s defection. “You’re sure?”

“Of course I’m sure—I’m in charge of those offices, you know.” Ravenswood leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Hornbuckle said he urged her to abandon her demands. He
refused to have you investigated without speaking to me first, but he discouraged her from following the matter further on her own. Apparently that didn’t dampen her determination.”

“No, it wouldn’t. What has she done now?”

Ravenswood glanced away. “She…um…showed up at my office shortly after she finished with the police. My clerk put her off yesterday and again today, but I suspect she won’t give up that easily.”

“Oh, no, not the Lady Clara
I
know. Who is apparently vastly different from the one you know.”

“All right, all right,” Ravenswood grumbled. “I admit I was wrong about the ‘all bark and no bite.’ Bloody persistent wench. Who the devil would ever guess she’d carry it so far?” He eyed Morgan curiously. “But you don’t seem very upset to hear it.”

“It’s possible that her opposition will work in my favor. The Specter hinted that he had connections in some of the police offices. When next I encounter him, I can gauge how much of that claim is true by whether he mentions Lady Clara. And if he does have lackeys among the police, then her persecution of me will only reinforce his belief that I’m a criminal. To be honest, I ought to thank her.”

“So what shall I tell the magistrate about investigating you?”

The chair creaked as Morgan shifted to face Ravenswood. “Does Hornbuckle know I really work for you?”

“No one knows but me.”

“Then why did he refuse to have me investigated when Lady Clara asked?”

“I gather it was because she offered insufficient evidence. And he said that she seemed to be hiding something.”

Knowing Clara, she was hiding Johnny’s involvement. “So why did he even bother to mention her concerns to you in the first place?”

“Because she made a fuss. Because even though it peeves him to have a member of the nobility ordering him about, he didn’t want to overlook her suspicions. And because you’re a navy man and he found it odd that you might be a criminal.”

“Good reasons, all of them. Very well, tell Mr. Hornbuckle to follow his inclinations regarding an investigation. It won’t affect my work if he puts a man on me—the Specter will know how to get around that to reach me. How the investigation is handled might help us determine where your magistrate’s loyalties lie. Not to mention those of his men.”

“All right, but I give you fair warning that Fitch—the man he intends to use—could be trouble. Though he acts like that stupid Constable Dogberry in Shakespeare’s
Much Ado
, he’s really very competent. He’s amassed himself quite a fortune in rewards for his successful investigations.”

Police officers were told to investigate all crimes regardless of rewards offered, but in practice, the more the victim offered as a reward, the more strenuously a case was investigated. The good officers often made a very decent living from legitimate rewards. “That speaks well of your magistrate if he’s willing to put a competent officer on the case. I can get around it—don’t worry.”

“And Lady Clara? What shall I do about her?”

Morgan grinned. “You’re on your own with her, Ravenswood. I wouldn’t tell her the truth, since we don’t know how well she can keep it secret. But other than that, put her off however you like. I warn you, though—she’s not only suspicious, but clever. She’ll easily see through half your explanations.”

Ravenswood glared at him. “I suppose you think I deserve this after placing you so near her Home.”

“You’re damned right I do. Have fun.”