To Please A Lady (The Seduction Series) (10 page)

“Of course, my apologies for interfering.”

Uneasy once more, he glanced out the window. He’d never enjoyed London, although he wouldn’t voice any complaints. It reminded him too much of childhood. The stench of the Thames, the unruly crowds, the dust that hovered in the air from the coal and factories. He much preferred the countryside where one could breathe. But he supposed that was the Irish in him.

“I don’t trust her,” Ophelia admitted.

James slid her a glance. “Her?”

“The woman who hired Gideon, I don’t trust her.” She was handing him an olive branch by admitting as much. “We’re in London so that I might have Wavers uncover what he can about the family.”

“I see.” He knew better than to question her further, although he could admit to himself that his mind was spinning with curiosity. What the hell was Gideon up to? One never quite knew. In all honesty, James didn’t understand why Gideon still worked at Lavender Hills. Perhaps Alex was right and there was something holding him there. They all had secrets.

“James, do stop the carriage. I’d like to shop at the antiquities store near the corner. The one where I picked up that lovely Chinese vase last summer?”

“Of course.” She always shopped when something was bothering her. It was a way to forget, he supposed.

He knocked on the roof. The carriage pulled to the side of the lane because Ophelia demanded immediate obedience in her staff. The door opened and James stepped outside, quickly scanning the streets, making sure there were no threats, no angry husbands out for revenge. In a way he wasn’t only whore and friend, but also guard. He turned to help Ophelia down.

She stepped gingerly from the carriage, ignoring the gasp of shock from her fellow shoppers. Protective mothers took hold of their daughters’ hands and rushed them away. Husbands glared. Some visitors had not yet noticed them and stood peering into windows, chatting with friends and family. But they would turn and stare soon enough. Another reason he hated London, for everyone knew precisely who they were and where they went at all times. The gossip rags would be full of information come tomorrow morning, most of it exaggerated half-truths.

He started to turn toward the antique shop when he spotted a group of four women standing near a dressmaker’s window. For a brief moment he merely stood there, wondering what had drawn him to their party. They were a pretty lot of varying ages, a wealthy group if one were to go by the fit and cut of their clothing. He started to turn away when one woman stepped back, separating herself from the others, and suddenly he knew the reason for his interest. His breath caught in his throat.

“I’ll only be a moment,” Ophelia said to the footman and driver, but James was barely aware.

He was too fascinated by the tallest woman in the group, the one who stood to the side as if she didn’t belong… Eleanor. The veil covering her face hid her from prying eyes, but he knew the gentle roundness of her jaw, the golden sparkle of her coifed hair, the fullness of those lips.

“Do you mind if I stroll?” James asked Ophelia, tearing his gaze from Eleanor. “My legs are cramped.”

“Of course.” She moved toward the shop, flanked by her two bodyguards, without concern or suspicion. She trusted him, and
that thought made him feel guilty, but not enough to stop him. As she disappeared inside, he returned his attention to Eleanor.

Although she stood tall and serene, a veritable goddess, there was something about her stillness that reeked of loneliness. Slowly, he started toward her, drawn by some invisible connection he didn’t understand. He only knew that he desperately wanted to protect her.

“I’d say emerald is my color, don’t you agree?” one woman asked the other, but Eleanor remained quiet, so still, so lost that she didn’t even notice him until he was directly behind her.

“Tell your friends you are taking a hack home,” he whispered near her ear. “You don’t feel well.”

She stiffened, but thank God, didn’t glance back. For a moment he thought perhaps she didn’t recognize his voice. He could not speak louder, he could not grab her hand and tear her away, as much as he wished. Desperate, he curled his fingers in silent frustration, unsure how to get her to agree, short of abducting her.

“Why?” she finally whispered.

The joy he felt at her response was maddening. Even though he knew it was uncouth to have feelings for his clients, it didn’t seem to matter. “I’m saving you. Now, tell them, head down the footpath, and then turn right.”

Whistling a tune under his breath, he strolled down the footpath as if he hadn’t a care in the world, merely a man out for a leisurely stroll. He paused where the street intersected with another, feigning interest in the passing carriages, but all the while he watched her from the corner of his eye.

Instead of ignoring his demand like a good lass, she actually took a few steps back from her friends. “I feel a slight headache,” he heard her say. “I really ought to return home.”

“Are you sure?” an elder woman asked.

James didn’t wait to hear more but turned on his heel and headed right, the euphoria of being with Eleanor again superseding his common sense. Ophelia would notice his absence, of
course. He wasn’t sure where he was going or how long he would be gone, and he would most likely have to lie upon his return, something he rarely, if ever, did. None of it mattered. No, because the only thing that mattered was being with Eleanor once more, even if for a moment. A shiver of awareness caressed his spine, a tingling awareness that said she followed behind him. Spotting a cab, he lifted his arm and waited near the edge of the street.

“What are we doing?” Eleanor whispered behind him.

He latched onto her hand without even looking at her. “Come, hurry.” He gripped her waist and tossed her inside the hack before someone noticed. “Toward Westminster, please,” he said to the driver.

“Aye, governor.”

He jumped into the cab and closed the door so they were hidden from prying eyes, praying they had not been spotted. How stupid he was to put her in danger. Selfish, greedy, for he could admit he wanted desperately to see her, talk to her, touch her again. He was doing this for himself, as much as for her. Sadly, he didn’t feel the least bit of guilt.

“Where are we going?” she asked breathlessly, half-hidden in the shadows.

“Somewhere we can… talk.” He leaned forward and lifted her veil. The unwashed reek of the cab was slowly being invaded by the light scent of roses. “There. Much better.”

She flushed but didn’t look away, her gaze bold and daring. Obviously she wanted to be here as much as he wanted her with him. The realization was tantalizing indeed. Neither spoke about their mutual attraction. Neither admitted how reckless they were being.

“There is a little tea shop not far. It’s highly unlikely you’ll be recognized there.”

“If I am?”

She did not seem worried. The air practically vibrated with an odd mixture of tension, attraction, hope… but not worry. He
shrugged, leaning back, feeling oddly relaxed. “I’d be happy to drop you off near your home. ’Tis your decision to make.”

For a long moment, as the carriage rattled through London, she didn’t speak. They were both tempting fate, and they both had so much to lose if caught. Neither seemed to care.

Finally, her shoulders sank and she fell back into the cushions, grinning. “No. I rather feel like some tea.”

James grinned in kind. He’d never seen her smile, he realized. Yes, a mocking smile, a cold, demure smirk, but never this… purity. Innocence. He could almost imagine her as a debutante, before her husband had ruined her. Yes, he’d known the moment he met her that her marriage was not a happy one; he’d also guessed that deep down she craved adventure, happiness, excitement. But didn’t everyone? “Are you sure?”

She leaned forward and nodded. “Positive. Now, tell me what you are doing here.”

Although the scoop of her neckline was demure by most standards, he couldn’t help but notice the creamy curve of her breasts. He clenched his jaw and forced his gaze upward. She wore a gown the color of the summer sky when a storm was approaching… a blue-gray that made her eyes sparkle.

“Lady Lavender has business in London.”

“I see.” She was quiet as she played with the tassel that hung from her reticule. “And do you always escort her wherever she goes?”

He shrugged, knowing there was an underlying question there. He might not be an expert in love, but he’d catered to enough women to know when there was something amiss. “Usually.”

“I see.”

And so did he, he saw very well indeed. He smiled as he moved across the coach and settled beside her. Much to his pleasure she didn’t move away. “What, exactly, do you see?”

She glanced up at him through her thick lashes. “You are her favorite.”

He shrugged. “Perhaps.”

She stared at his thigh where it pressed intimately against hers. Even through the layers of her skirts he felt her heat. Craved her heat. Her touch. Her kiss. His gaze dropped to her lush mouth, then lower to her elegant neck where a pulse fluttered like a butterfly.

“And will she not be angry when she finds you are missing? Or did she give you permission?”

He leaned closer to her, breathing in the clean scent of woman and rose soap. “Can I trust you with the truth?”

“Of course.”

He pressed his lips to the shell of her delicate ear. She shivered beneath him. “I snuck away.”

“Oh.” She was quiet for a moment and he wondered what she was thinking. When he’d never cared much before about his clients and their thoughts, he found he wanted to know everything about Eleanor.

“Why?” she asked, looking up at him. “Why did you sneak away?”

He drew back, noting her flushed cheeks with satisfaction. She liked him, perhaps as much as he liked her. Perhaps more. The realization sent his pulse pounding. He could have her… so easily here and now. She was ready and willing to be seduced, and he was an expert. Damn it all, she deserved better than a tickle in a carriage. “Because I noticed a woman who seemed utterly miserable. And I can’t abide it when a woman looks ready to cry.”

She clenched her jaw, that resolute look of determination hardening her gaze once more. “No need to worry. I never cry.”

He wasn’t sure whether to be amused or saddened over her admittance. “Never?”

“Not any longer.”

“Because your life is so wonderful?”

“No games,” she said, shaking her head. “We both know that I would not have visited you if my life was wonderful. I do not cry because… because he enjoys it too much.”

James stiffened, his amusement fading. Pure rage rushed through his body like nothing he’d ever experienced before. Hot one moment, cold the next… he no longer felt in control of his emotions. What the bleedin’ hell had happened to him?

He didn’t dare react, but remained calm, relaxed against the seat. “Your husband?”

“I do not wish to speak of him. You have possibly ruined my reputation and my life. If this should be my last day, then I demand you make the deed worth it.”

He reached out, sliding his fingers down her smooth cheek and tucking a silky lock of hair behind her ear. “Very well.” He leaned close, so close his lips brushed hers. “Prepare, my lady Eleanor, for the most pleasant day of your life.”

He slid his fingers under her chin, tilting her head back and intending to thoroughly kiss the woman when the carriage slowed. “Blast it,” he muttered a mere breath away from her mouth.

Eleanor giggled. James drew back, surprised and delighted by such an innocent laugh. Her eyes shone with the light of a woman who had no idea about the wicked ways of the world. She looked… happy. He had made her that way. As much as it thrilled him, the thought also terrified him, for he knew their relationship was only temporary. What if she came to rely upon him? Hell, what if he couldn’t get her out of his mind?

When the carriage stopped, James was actually relieved. He pushed open the door, tossed some coins to the driver, and turned, reaching for Eleanor.

“’Tis raining,” she said, as she peeked outside. Her veil was back in place, her identity a mystery once more. He glanced up at the gray clouds. He hadn’t even noticed the drizzle.

He held out his hand and took her small palm in his, rethinking his rash decision to steal her away, rethinking his entire life. He wasn’t even sure what had induced him to bring her here, of all places. “Yes, but rain is good.”

She tilted her head to the side in a thoughtful manner. “Why?”

“Well, for instance, rain makes the flowers grow.” He nodded toward the foxglove growing in patches on the grounds of the church. A church he’d visited often as a child. Suddenly the memories came flooding back, churning through his body, tearing at his soul. He took in a deep, trembling breath and forced his attention to Eleanor.

Even though her face was covered, he could tell she smiled. “That is all you have to offer?”

“Rain will keep people inside.” He forced himself to speak although his heart was thumping madly. He looked around the area at the many unfamiliar faces, expecting to see his sister, even himself, in the eyes of the children who strolled by. “Which means it is less likely that we will be noticed.”

“I will grudgingly give you that.”

“Truly kind of you.” He tightened his hold on her hand.

She kept him grounded, he realized quite suddenly. When he’d gone through life in a numb, albeit content, existence… she’d forced him into the world. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that realization. “And you might be able to use the rain to your advantage. For instance, if someone asks where you were… you might say the carriage was stuck in the mud.”

She slid her arm through his, and although her body merely brushed his side, he felt her heat all the way to his soul. They started through the gardens of Westminster. “Do you always look on the bright side?”

“Why not? The alternative is to be bleak and miserable.”

“It’s very hard to be happy when those around you are determined to see you aren’t.”

“I’m sure it is,” he said, squeezing her hand gently. He didn’t like the look she wore; it was all too common where he had come from. Hopelessness, defeat. He wanted her smiling again. “Cremorne Gardens, have you been? We are going tomorrow evening.”