Seduce Me (11 page)

Stepping out onto her front step, Fielding examined both sides of the street. He knew the Raven’s men wouldn’t be far behind
them. And just then, as if not to disappoint, Fielding caught sight of his uncle’s red crest on the shiny black carriage parked
on a cross street a quarter mile up the lane.

“Esme,” he yelled as he entered the house again. This was no time for formalities. “We must leave. Now.”

She appeared in the hallway, breathy from her exertion. She’d changed into one of her own dresses, and the soft pink matched
the stain on her cheeks. “What’s the matter?”

“They’ve found us.”

“Who’s found us?” Thea asked in a panic.

Esme eyed Fielding before she turned to her aunt. “The men who abducted me,” she said plainly.

If that was how she intended to soothe her aunt, she failed miserably. As it was, the older woman swayed on her feet and reached
her hand out to the wall to steady herself.

“Gracious,” she muttered.

He wasn’t used to handling women. He knew how to give instruction to men, tell them where to dig or where to shine the light,
but this hero business was damned challenging.

“I will ensure we leave safely,” Fielding muttered, hoping it eased their worries.

“Are they coming back in the house?” Thea asked. Her voice wavered, and it sounded as if at any moment she would be reduced
to sobs.

He released a string of curses that had both women turning clashing shades of red. “No, I’m sure they only mean to watch us
and follow us should we leave. But we can get around them. Trust me.”

With that, he went to the driver still waiting in the hired rig in front of Esme’s home. He paid the man, then instructed
him to leave, telling the driver that they’d changed their plans and were no longer in need of a coach. On the chance that
the Raven’s men stopped the driver and paid for information, Fielding wanted to ensure they got nothing for their money. Proceeding
to the alleyway behind Esme’s house, Fielding checked to make sure the Raven hadn’t stationed men there as well. Hiring a
new rig was as simple as whistling through his two fingers. It was a considerably smaller carriage, but it would have to do.

“Hurry,” he told the women as he stepped back into the house. “We need to leave now.” When Esme started for the front door,
he grabbed her arm. “This way. We’re going out the back.” He held the door open for them as they shuffled out to the waiting
carriage.

Several minutes later, after their luggage had been quickly loaded, they were packed tightly in the hired coach—Fielding,
Esme, Thea, and a surly-looking tomcat nestled in Esme’s lap.

Her aunt fluttered her hands. “First you disappear for two days, then you return and demand we abandon our home. I could have
accepted any of that, but sneaking out the back door? And this mention of someone called the Raven?” Thea’s eyes grew large,
and her voice pitched higher and higher.

“Thea, there is no reason for a fit of the vapors.” Esme reached over and patted her aunt’s knee. “But if you find you simply
cannot abide it, I did bring some of your salts. Mr. Grey shall take excellent care of us.” She smiled sweetly. “He’s taking
us somewhere safe. Somewhere I can read the journals and plan our next step.”

Her complete faith in him was unsettling. Not to mention unwarranted. The only thing that would come out of their time together
would be disappointment for Esme. He looked out the window and saw the Raven’s carriage still stationed at the front of the
house.

“I believe we’ll all be safe at the marquess’s house,” Fielding said.

“A marquess?” Thea asked, obviously impressed.

“Mr. Grey is a viscount,” Esme said.

“Indeed?” Thea’s thinned eyebrows rose. “Well, you shouldn’t be calling him mister; he has a more appropriate title, I should
think.”

Fielding shook his head. “I prefer Mr. Grey. It is how I am known in my profession. But your aunt is right; we’re beyond formalities.
Call me Fielding.” He scanned the street but found no sign of his uncle’s carriage.

“Fielding,” Esme repeated, then caught herself. “Thea loves her gossip rags; I’m afraid she can’t read enough about the scandals
and goings-on in proper society,” Esme explained.

“What’s your title, dear?” Thea asked him.

“The Viscount Eldon.”

“Eldon. Can’t say that I recall reading anything about you,” Thea said.

“Too scandalous,” he said and winked at her. “They wouldn’t know where to begin.” For the most part, they simply didn’t pay
any attention to him. He was a man who worked for his money, and to most of society that meant he’d walked away from all things
proper.

Her aunt was fanning herself with a handkerchief so Esme directed her attention there. “Oh, Thea, think of this as a grand
adventure.”

“I do believe I’m too old for adventures,” Thea said with a weak smile.

“Nonsense. You don’t look a day over forty.”

They wound up one street, across two, and down another, all in the name of confusion should anyone be following. It wasn’t
much longer before the carriage stopped.

Esme pulled the curtain back to survey their surroundings. “Is this the marquess’s house?”

“If you would wait here,” he replied, “I shouldn’t be long.” He stepped down and closed the small door behind him. He spoke
briefly to his driver to guarantee the ladies would be safe during his absence; then he climbed the stairs to Lindberg’s large
columned home.

The butler answered the door practically before Fielding had a chance to knock, as if he’d been poised, waiting for the first
sign of a visitor. Fielding was shown directly into Max’s study, where the marquess stood behind his desk, poring over a large
map.

At the butler’s announcement, Max looked up. “Grey. This is a surprise.” He stepped around his desk. “Have you already found
the box?” He did nothing to hide the enthusiasm in his voice.

Fielding ignored the question. “Actually, I need your assistance.” He paused, trying to think of the right words to say. “We
might need a drink for this.” He took a seat in a reddish-brown leather chair that groaned under his weight.

Max complied and poured them each a glass of sherry, then sat opposite Fielding.

After taking a bracing sip, Fielding informed Max of Miss Worthington’s kidnapping and the lady and her aunt’s current need
for sanctuary. For the time being, he left out the business with the cursed bracelets and made no further mention of the box.
He didn’t trust Solomon’s and saw no reason to disclose such information to them. Besides, he didn’t normally present a step-by-step
process of his excavation for his clients. “I know the Raven well enough to know he won’t look for me anywhere near a member
of Solomon’s.”

More to the point, the Raven knew him well enough to know Fielding would never ordinarily ask for assistance. Which, under
the circumstances, meant refuge here would bring them safety.

“Obviously, your house is out of the question,” Max provided.

“Precisely. So now I find myself with two ladies and nowhere to put them.”

Fielding hadn’t known what sort of reaction to expect from Max, but laughter hadn’t been at the top of his list. Yet that
was exactly his response.

“We certainly didn’t intend to send you on a mission that entailed rescuing a damsel in distress,” Max said with a chuckle.

“You learn to expect the unexpected when it comes to dealing with the Raven,” Fielding said. “Although I admit, when I worked
for him we were never in the practice of abducting innocent ladies.”

“The Raven obviously believed she had valuable information.” Two creases pinched Max’s forehead. “And you say you have her
with you?”

Fielding nodded. “In the carriage outside. With her aunt.”

Max smiled as he walked to the door. “Let us invite the ladies in and make them comfortable. All three of you may stay as
long as you need. I have an entire wing of the house that I scarcely use.” He motioned to the other end of the hall as they
made their way to the front door.

“I should warn you, Miss Worthington is not your typical woman. She’s unique and can talk your ear off.”

Max’s eyebrows rose. “I’ll heed your warning and guard my ears accordingly.”

Within moments they had gathered the women, and the four of them were seated in a heavily windowed parlor with a tray of tea
and frosted biscuits at their disposal. Esme and her aunt sat together on a blue-and-gold settee, simultaneously soaking in
every detail. From the plush gold-colored carpet to the blue draperies, they seemed awed by the opulence that surrounded them.

Fielding sat on the edge of a small wingback chair, clearly built for one of the fairer sex. Besides the delicate size, the
pale-blue-flowered print made him feel utterly foolish. He balanced an equally small and dainty teacup on his knee.

“Oh, my dear boy, I do believe my frazzled nerves are finally beginning to calm,” Thea said, sipping her tea.

“Glad to hear it,” Max said.

“Your home is beautiful,” Esme said. “Thank you so much for welcoming us.”

“I hope your ordeal wasn’t too overwhelming, Miss Worthington,” Max said.

Esme smiled at Fielding, and it was so genuine, he found it difficult to look away from her.

“Thankfully, Mr. Grey was there to rescue me,” she said. “Otherwise, I’m not certain what I would have done. I suppose eventually
the rats would have eaten me.”

“Mercy, child, don’t say such a thing,” Thea exclaimed. “You’re safe now,” she said, patting Esme’s hand. “That’s all that
matters.”

“Well, it was a distinct possibility,” Esme said. She bit into a biscuit. Her eyes closed as she savored the bite. She washed
it down with a decidedly feminine sip of tea.

One minute Thea had been engaged in the conversation and the next she’d fallen quite asleep, though her teacup and saucer
remained on her lap without a drop spilling.

Fielding could not have felt more out of place had he been sitting with the queen herself. He could sometimes go several days
without speaking to anyone, save the few he kept on staff at his home. And when he was in the field hunting for an antiquity,
he hired the bare number of men necessary to complete the task. Yet it appeared he now would be surrounded by people, at least
for the time being.

“Worthington,” Max said casually. “Tell me, why do I know that name?”

Esme shifted in her seat, and her cheeks pinkened ever so slightly. She set down her plate and straightened her skirt, paying
particular attention to one of the pleats.

While he’d known her only two days, Fielding noted he’d never before seen Esme look nervous, despite the ordeal she’d been
through.

She bumped up her chin, then licked her lips. “You might know my sister.” She uncrossed and crossed her legs at the ankles.

Max was silent for a brief moment. “Elena,” he supplied in almost a whisper.

Esme shifted again, moving forward ever so slightly. “Yes,” she said, her voice tight.

Max was going to think him a liar for making Esme out to be a talker when she seemed intent on providing the marquess with
tight-lipped answers.

After a thoughtful sip, the marquess spoke again. “Pretty girl. I believe we danced a few times.” He gave Esme a sly grin.
“Before she saddled herself with Griffin.”

“Yes, she’s quite lovely,” Esme agreed, her voice seeming to thin.

Fielding tried to determine the emotion that darkened Esme’s eyes.

Jealousy, perhaps. Resentment, maybe. Sorrow, a touch.

Max had inadvertently hit on a sensitive subject. So there was more to Esme Worthington than first met the eye. More than
her incessant chatter and innocently brazen behavior. For some reason that pleased Fielding.

“How is your sister?” Max asked.

Esme stiffened and took several breaths before answering. “I presume she’s doing quite perfectly.”

Fielding knew there was something more. Something Esme left unsaid.

“Thank you, my lord, for your kindness in offering us sanctuary. I do hate to be rude, but I believe my aunt needs to rest.”
Esme stood and placed her hand on Thea’s shoulder, which instantly roused the woman. “Could you point us in the direction
of our room?”

“Of course. I’ve put you in adjoining rooms in the north wing.” Max rang a bell, and a moment later his butler appeared. “Please
take the ladies to their rooms.”

Fielding grabbed Esme’s elbow. “When you get settled, come back down and we’ll get back to those books.”

After the ladies left the room, Fielding nodded to Max. “You know her sister?”

“Not in the biblical sense, Grey, if that’s what you’re asking. But I do recall meeting her on occasion. And that husband
of hers.”

Esme had told Fielding she had no family, that she lived only with her aunt. He did not appreciate being lied to, no matter
what the reason. Still, he felt compelled to ask, “What do you know of them?”

“Raymond Griffin, the Earl of Weatherby,” Max said. “I can’t say that we’ve ever exchanged more than salutations. My impression,
though, is that the man is a bastard.”

Fielding rose from the ridiculously small chair. “ ‘Bastard’ covers a multitude of sins,” he said. Undoubtedly there were
a great many people in London who would use exactly that word to describe him. He gripped the back of the dainty parlor chair.

“Rumors,” Max said, his usual cool facade disappearing. “I don’t remember much, as I rarely pay any attention to societal
scandals, but I do remember word of Elena’s younger sister causing quite a stir. And then she was gone, sent to a country
estate after a reported illness.”

“Convenient for them,” Fielding said. “Perhaps I need to pay the Weatherbys a visit, inform them of Esme’s safety.” And assure
them that he would not be party to any rumored scandal that required he make an honest woman out of Esme.