Page 16 of How to Seduce a Viscount
‘You make me want to forget about the dressmaker’s.’ His eyes were dark, as they had been last night. Full of want and desire. His mouth quirked in his devastating smile. ‘But I am on to you, Minx. That’s probably what you want. Your seductive wiles are no good on me,’ he joked. They both knew that wasn’t true. Even now, she could feel his arousal press against her. ‘Off to the dressmaker’s with you. We arenotleaving here without a gown or two.’
She turned serious. ‘Truly, Luce, I appreciate the offer, but I’d rather not be fitted for gowns, not with my stitches and scar,’ she confessed quietly. ‘It will be noticed. There will be questions and that can lead to talk.’
He nodded and she felt herself breathe easier. ‘Perhaps a compromise then. Ready-made? Will you tolerate that, Wren?’
‘Yes, readymade. Shall we seal the accord with a kiss?’ She gave a throaty laugh and he indulged her most delightfully. They were extraordinarily wicked together, kissing in an alley in broad daylight, but oh how fun it was.
They made short work of the dressmaker’s with two gowns packed in a box beneath Luce’s arm. They stopped to admire the window at the milliner’s who was also enterprising enough tosell gloves and other winter accessories. ‘Those shearling lined gloves would be good for sleigh riding,’ Luce noted.
‘They would be.’ Wren cocked her head to take him in. ‘Which brings me to something I’ve been wondering about all day. How is it that you have a sleigh? And don’t tell me it was just sitting in storage at the estate. This is not usually snow country.’
‘I brought it back from Sweden on my grand tour,’ Luce answered easily.
She wrinkled her brow in question. ‘Isthatwhere you went? It’s an odd choice. Gentlemen usually go to France and Italy for the tour.’
‘War on the Continent made leisure travel difficult for several years. But Sweden was getting interesting and we had no eyes up there. Napoleon’s one-time marshal, Bernadotte, was king of Sweden, at Napoleon’s pleasure of course, until Bernadotte broke with him and joined the anti-Napoleon Alliance two years prior to my visit. Grandfather felt it would be in our interest to cultivate a relationship with Bernadotte for the immediate future and beyond.’ He slid her a look. ‘Grandfather believes foreign policy interests will shift northward in the coming years and we need to have strong relationships in place with our northern allies.’
‘So you went as a scholar and as an ambassador.’ She was doing the math in her head. Luce would have been nineteen, nearly twenty, in 1814. Fresh out of university and ready to join the Horsemen. ‘Your first mission was Sweden, although it looked to be something else entirely.’
He’d been up north working against Napoleon while his brothers, Kieran and Caine, had been on the Continent, working behind the scenes in the eye of the conflict. Everyone in such covert circles knew the latter. But Luce had been making vital alliances in Sweden—no one knew that. Just as no one really understood his contributions to code cracking and the manylives his efforts had saved over the years. Much like her own work. Unsung. They were alike that way.
Inside the shop, she settled on the shearling lined gloves but declined a winter bonnet on the grounds she had the hood of her cloak, much to Luce’s disapproval. But pretty bonnets were conspicuous.
‘I doubt you are this stubborn with my grandfather. He would not tolerate it,’ Luce scolded, moving her to the inside away from the curb as they made their way back to the livery. He was always protecting, even in small ways. Did he even realise he did it?
‘That’s different. He’s responsible for me.’
‘And I am his grandson, an extension of him. When he is not able to look after you, then it falls to me to act on his behalf.’ Luce adjusted the packages beneath his arm. If only all men were raised with these ingrained manners.
‘Do I need “looking after”? I knifed two men on your doorstep. I’m hardly in need of protection and gentlemanly manners.’ Nor was she terribly used to either. It was frightening new territory.
‘You are entitled to both, regardless,’ he replied tersely. He might have said more but at the moment three men came around the corner. Luce apparently recognised the bluff man in the middle immediately. ‘Vicar Paterson. These gentlemen must be the guests Lepley was telling me about.’
Wren froze, grateful for the anonymity afforded by her hood. Her grip on Luce’s arm tightened in warning. These men weren’t guests. They’d been in the pub with the others who’d followed her when she’d stopped to warm herself the night she came to Tillingbourne. She regretted that decision. As a result, she’d been followed and stabbed. Now the consequences of her mission continued to follow her here into this bucolic winter paradise, where just a few hours ago she’d foolishly felt safe.It was a sharp reminder that her work wasn’t done, she hadn’t retired yet and the holiday was over.
Chapter Eight
The tightening of her grip told Luce two things: there was danger nearby, perhaps right in front of them,andshe feared it. While it seemed implausible that the loquacious Vicar Paterson posed a threat to anyone other than the risk of being talked to death, Luce had made a habit early in his career as a Horseman to assume all was not always as it seemed. He made a small gesture of covering Wren’s gloved hand with his to assure her the message was received and she was indeed safe as long as he stood at her side. Not that she needed protection. But he’d rather not have her flash her stiletto at Vicar Paterson. In that case, it would be hard to persuade anyone she was just a guest at the Abbey.
Luce smiled politely but did not offer his hand to the men. He would not shake hands with men who were a source of Wren’s sudden unrest. ‘How are you finding our corner of the world?’
The taller one met Luce’s gaze coolly. ‘We are enjoying it fine. The vicar is a most generous host.’
‘Yes, indeed!’ the vicar broke in excitedly. ‘We’ve discovered we have ever so much in common.’ He gave an expansive chuckle as he made the introductions. ‘This is Mr Calvin Paterson and his cousin, Mr George Wilkes, down from Yorkshire.’
Luce did not like the look of them. On closer examination he noted what Wren had likely seen already. They were respectably dressed, as if they were gentry, but beneath their clothes they sported burly builds not found among gentlemen and there was a shiftiness about the eyes of the taller one when he’d glanced in Wren’s direction. It made Luce want to step in front of her as a shield. She seemed to melt into the depths of the cloak, becoming invisible. Why? To escape recognition? What did she fear from these men? Luce itched to get her alone and ask his questions.
‘You will not believe this,’ the vicar went on, oblivious to the rising tension. ‘You may have noticed the similarity in the name. I’ll allow that it’s not an uncommon surname but you may recall, Lord Waring, that I am originally from Yorkshire. We spent the first night they were here discovering a distant family connection.’ The vicar gave another happy chortle as if he couldn’t believe his good luck in stumbling upon an unknown relation. ‘We’ve had the most wonderful discussions reminiscing about Yorkshire and my wife has been in alt having guests to entertain.’
The vicar was right, Lucedidn’tbelieve it. The coincidences were too damn convenient. His mind was racing over scenarios. The snow was, unfortunately, a reasonable explanation for their presence and for them being unable to leave until their mission was accomplished. The weather made it plausible for strangers to be in a town that saw very few outsiders, except those passing through on the coaches. To the ordinary onlooker, like Vicar Paterson, the weather explained away what might have otherwise been a suspicious prolonged presence.
But the ordinary onlooker didn’t know Wren had been chased by three men to Tillingbourne Abbey at midnight. That two men had died and a third had been sent to Sandmore before the second bout of road-closing snow had set in. Those whodidknow though,mightcome looking for answers and for their comrades who’d failed to return. That was the scenario that made the most sense to Luce. If he was right, they’d come looking for Wren at a time when her wings were clipped by her health and by the weather. Even if she could run, there was nowhere she could run to. Damn, Luce wished she’d told him there might be others in pursuit. He could have been better prepared.
‘I’ve had a splendid idea, just now,’ Vicar Paterson enthused. ‘We should have you to supper, Lord Waring. Now that you’re fully in residence and returned from the holidays, my wife and I need to welcome you properly. We can make it a little party for our snowbound guests.’ Luce found the idea less delightful than the vicar did.
‘I’m sure it would be lovely,’ Wren interrupted, all sweet sincerity from the carefully cultivated anonymity of her cloak, ‘but I haven’t any gowns ready. My luggage didn’t fare as well as I did in this current adventure.’ Luce felt the pressure of her grip and he picked up his part.
‘I appreciate the offer, Vicar. We shall have to consider our situation before we accept. May I send you a note?’ Luce shook the Vicar’s hand, eager to get Wren away. ‘We must be off. I’ve promised to show Miss Audley some of the sights.’ It was a handy excuse. There’d be no more sightseeing. They were going straight home. They had business to settle.
