One Dangerous Desire (Accidental Heirs)

by Christy Carlyle

  Graves didn’t meet her gaze as she ascended the stairs. Clearly, he expected their previous conversation to remain a confidence between them.

  “It is a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Graves.” Much as he had at the Metropole, her father’s business partner only tipped his head in acknowledgment. “I hope you’ll stay here with us while you’re in London. We certainly have plenty of room.”

  “I’ve already had the housekeeper prepare a suite for him down the hall.” Her father directed them both into the upstairs drawing room as he spoke.

  May recognized the frenzied tone in her father’s voice. He sounded happy, yet it was a hectic sort of pleasure that indicated he’d succeeded at one of his business ventures or come into a windfall of cash. She’d always imagined his triumphs coming as a result of his savvy, but perhaps Mr. Graves was right about his addiction. Maybe this kind of excitement only resulted from a win at his favorite gambling den.

  “Something certainly has you excited.” May tried to catch Mr. Graves’s eye as she spoke to her father, but the gentleman was still avoiding her.

  “Indeed, I have news.” He mashed his hands together and then reached up to straighten his perfectly arranged necktie and waistcoat. “Sit, both of you, and let me tell it.”

  Arranged before him in two matching chairs aligned next to two newly purchased settees, May and Graves sat in similar postures of tense wariness—backs straight, gazes following the circular pacing pattern of the man before them, hands gripping the arms of their chairs.

  “Tell me how much you love this city, my girl.”

  May frowned and turned to look at Mr. Graves again. This time he did meet her eyes but with a look as quizzical as her own.

  “You know I love London, Father. Much more than you do.” From the moment he set foot on British soil, he’d decried the listlessness of titled Englishmen and swayed between encouraging her to marry one so that he could return to the States and trying to persuade her to return with him. Lately he’d attempted to woo her back with a promise to visit the World’s Columbian Exhibition in Chicago.

  “The whole damn country, in fact. Am I wrong?” He glanced at Graves as if the man would have the answer to his question. “You love England so much that you came here to marry one of its native sons.”

  The particular native son May hoped to marry had turned out to be a rather dour viscount who fell madly in love with his aunt’s companion. So much for the irresistible charm and beauty Mama always assured her she possessed.

  “That is still my intention.”

  Mr. Graves cleared his throat, as if she might have forgotten their private conversation and his insistence that she marry soon to prevent her father from sapping her dowry.

  “No time like the present, my girl. Tell me your prospects.”

  Over the years, May had grown used to her father referring to her marital machinations as a deal to be brokered, as Mr. Leighton had so irritatingly put it. Still, her cheeks warmed at the prospect of discussing it so coldly in front of Mr. Graves.

  One man’s name sprang to mind in response to her father’s prompting. Henry, Earl of Devenham. The earl had a devilish laugh and a face that caught every lady’s eye. Unfortunately, he’d never been anything but scrupulously polite to her, his interest mild and less than compelling. Perhaps if she gave him a bit of encouragement, he would respond in kind. The greater question was whether she could grow to feel anything for him beyond friendly admiration.

  “The Earl of Devenham has been very attentive over the last few months.”

  “Devenham?” Her father tipped his head back and reached up to stroke his beard. “The name is familiar. Have I met him?”

  “At the Worthington ball last season, and then again when we were invited to dine with the Duke of Ashworth.”

  “Ah, yes. He’s related to your friend?”

  May nodded. “He’s a cousin of Lady Emily.” They were close enough that Devenham and his sister were invited to most social events at Ashworth House. Em teasingly cautioned May that the earl was far too much of a charmer for any woman to trust him with her heart, but she’d never been bothered by the warning. May wasn’t sure she planned to risk her heart again with any man, whoever she chose to marry.

  “Ashworth. Now there is a formidable ally. Wealthy and quite a keen investor. Doesn’t he have a son?”

  “No, Father, only daughters. Just like you.” May grinned as she said it, but she’d often wondered if he wished for a son to take over Sedgwick’s and all of his other interests.

  “He’s the best you can do, then?” He grinned back, and she knew they were both thinking of Mama. Her mother’s chief goal had been to see her daughter married to “the best.”

  “Perhaps we should invite him and his sister to dinner,” May suggested. She and her father had been remiss about hosting any events since the previous season.

  “Excellent, and we should begin planning a ball or a grand celebration.” This was it. Now she’d get an explanation for all that exuberant jumpiness he still had trouble containing.

  “And what are we celebrating?” May glanced at Mr. Graves as she questioned her father. He sat leaning on one elbow, his hand resting over his mouth.

  “News I know will please you, my girl. What do you say to a new Sedgwick’s right here in the middle of London?” He perched next to her on the settee and reached for one of her hands.

  “What about the stores in New York and Chicago?”

  Mr. Graves emitted a quiet grunt, and her father instantly released her hand.

  “We have able men managing them, my girl.” Her father couldn’t look her in the eyes, but May watched him, willing him to tell her the rest. Instead, he stood and resumed pacing the carpet runner between the settees. “We’ll make our home here now.”

  “You don’t like England.”

  He turned on her and settled his hands on his hips. “I’ll learn to. Let’s add an Englishman to the family and see if that helps.”

  May sat up tall, straight enough to make her mother proud, and ignored the tense figure of Douglas Graves at her left as she asked, “What of my dowry, Father? Wouldn’t it be useful in this new venture of yours?”

  Her father whipped his head around to stare at his business partner. “It will never come to that. I do not require my daughter’s marriage portion to make this venture thrive.”

  “No.” Mr. Graves spoke for the first time, and her father released a stopped-up breath. “And seeing you married will be the highlight of my visit to London, Miss Sedgwick.”

  “Yes, my girl. Let’s get you settled as a countess, and then perhaps we’ll draw a few lords and ladies to the new Sedgwick’s. We’ll need their custom to make the new shop soar.”

  May felt little certainty that marriage to Devenham would attract customers to her father’s shop. Aristocratic gentleman and ladies might be forced to accept her into their social circles after such a match, but shopping at her father’s retail establishment was another matter entirely. And if the rumors about his women and gambling ever got out, it would bring ruin and scandal down on all of them.

  Chapter Five

  “THIS ISN’T RIGHT.” Rex picked at the edges of his tangled necktie while his valet settled an evening jacket on his shoulders. It didn’t look as it should. In fact, it was possibly the worst neck cloth-tying effort he’d ever seen. Tonight, of all nights, he wanted to present himself as a polished gentleman.

  Brooks glanced at his employer’s tie and shrugged. “Looks right as rain to me, guv.”

  “With this hanging out?” Rex lifted one end of the white piqué fabric and the whole began to unravel. “There should be a matching point on the other side.”

  Brooks stepped in front of him and huffed out a less than obsequious sigh. “Now you’ve gone and done it. I’ve to redo it now, don’t I?”

  The young man stared at the cloth a moment, a strip in each hand, as if he’d just been asked to assemble a complicated puzzle.

 
“We could ask for Mrs. Hark’s assistance,” Rex offered. “I’m sure she knows how to tie a knot.”

  His valet let out a low growl and began twisting the fabric in earnest, coming no closer to any semblance of a neatly settled neck cloth. “If only she’d put a knot in her tongue. Give all our ears a rest.”

  “Enough.” Rex yanked the tie from Brooks’s hands. “Show her the respect she’s due. The woman has more experience in service than all the rest of you put together.”

  Rex generally avoided highlighting Brooks’s failings as a valet. They’d met in the East End, where Rex had gone to inspect a factory he considered purchasing, and the young man clumsily attempted to pick his pocket. He’d been so cold and hungry that Rex offered to buy him a meal in a nearby pub. Within half an hour, the fellow wove a convincing tale of being a gentleman’s servant who’d fallen on hard times. Having stumbled on hard times himself more often than he cared to recall, Rex decided to give Brooks a chance at employment. Now it was increasingly clear the boy had never worked as a valet in his life.

  “Shall I call Mrs. Hark up, sir?” Brooks had transformed into a proper servant, back stiff, shoulders back, and his voice clipped and precise. Rex almost preferred the quick-talking buck he’d met in the East End.

  “See to my coat and hat. I’ll go down to her myself.”

  As he descended the stairs, the woman’s cackle of laughter stopped him in his tracks. His housekeeper chastised him, railed at the younger servants, and hated his dog, but he’d never heard her giggle like a schoolgirl.

  “Mrs. Hark?”

  The laughter stopped, cut off with a squeak, and the plump housekeeper bustled out of his office door into the main hallway.

  “What can I do for you, sir?”

  He lifted the ends of his mangled tie.

  “Ah, I see. Mr. Brooks not up to snuff, eh?”

  Rex raised one eyebrow and stepped in front of her. He wasn’t going to fuel the row between the older woman and Brooks by defending the young man. The boy would have to prove himself. That was the way of the world.

  She worked quickly and efficiently, stepping back a moment later to inspect her handiwork. “There you go, sir.”

  “What was that noise I heard when I came down just now?”

  “Noise?” Her right eye twitched as her cheeks bloomed with color.

  “I’m at fault, sir.” Sullivan emerged from Rex’s office. “Blame me if we were making too much commotion.”

  Rex looked from his housekeeper to his inquiry agent, both of whom seemed ready to burst into nervous laughter again. “Very well. Mrs. Hark, thank you for your assistance. Let the coachman know I’ll require my carriage at the top of the hour. Sullivan, do you have information for me? ”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Rex noted his housekeeper’s wink in Sullivan’s direction before she opened the door leading downstairs.

  “What do you have for me, Jack?” He poured himself a dash of whiskey as Sullivan took a seat and slid his trusty notebook from his coat pocket.

  “You asked me to look into Devenham, and it’s much as you expected. The man needs funds. His family’s estate in Derbyshire requires repairs, and the family’s coffers were severely depleted by the previous earl’s proclivity for women, drink, and elaborate parties. The new earl can’t be classed a miser, but he seems determined to restore the family’s wealth. Miss Sedgwick and another American heiress are reputedly at the top of his list of prospective brides.”

  Knowing that May was the objective for men like Devenham was one thing. Hearing Sullivan report it in his practical, even tone made Rex’s stomach roil. Especially when he could still see those blue eyes and wind-chafed lips wherever he looked. For four days he’d convinced himself he could smell her rose scent perfuming the air. All that while he’d tortured himself by replaying the history between them, from the days of their short-lived romance back in New York to the moment he saw her again in Ashworth’s drawing room.

  A relationship between them had been improbable from their first encounter six years ago in the glassware shop where he’d worked as a clerk. He should have treated her as he did every other fine young lady who entered the store. Civil, but detached, fully aware that they weren’t part of his world. Except that May had looked at him as none of them ever had. She gazed at him, rather than past him. She’d stared brazenly, and he’d never been the same since.

  A series of what ifs haunted him. If he’d had the courage to stand up to her father, how might his life have been different? Would she have married him as he’d planned to ask her to do? What if he’d faced her in Central Park that night and urged her to elope with him?

  The ridges of his crystal snifter began to dig into his palm. He gripped the damn thing hard enough to shatter it.

  “Mr. Leighton?”

  Sullivan had been speaking and he’d missed it. “Go on.”

  “I said that Miss Sedgwick may soon fall off the earl’s list.”

  A flicker of pleasure bloomed in Rex’s chest, and he loosened his hold on the crystal. “Tell me why.”

  Sullivan flipped his notebook closed and folded his hands in his lap. His mouth stretched into a grim line, and his brow drew down in an ominous scowl.

  “Good grief, man. What?”

  “For some time I have been reporting to you on Mr. Sedgwick’s activities here in London. The women, the gambling dens. But I’ve been wired news from New York about his finances. He may be forced to sell his retail shops in New York and Chicago.”

  A few sips of whiskey had warmed his blood, but now Rex’s mind turned sluggish. Seymour Sedgwick without Sedgwick’s? It was an impossible equation.

  “Is this rumor or confirmed fact?”

  “Fact, sir. My sources indicate Sedgwick’s is in dire financial straits.”

  Rex slumped onto the edge of his desk. The information should thrill him. Sedgwick had threatened his destruction and driven him out of May’s life. He’d daydreamed for years about seeing the man get his comeuppance. Yet he couldn’t take any pleasure in Sedgwick’s failures. He thought only of May and how her father’s financial ruin would affect her.

  “If Miss Sedgwick plans to snag a nobleman, she’ll have to be quick about it,” Sullivan continued.

  The thought hadn’t even crossed Rex’s mind. In fact, he’d begun meandering down a much more dangerous path. A trail he’d stepped off of years before, burying his footprints behind him so that he could never find his way back. Killing the fantasy of having May in his life had been far more merciful—and essential to his well-being—than keeping a feeble, foolish hope alive.

  “Yes. An advantageous marriage seems the best way to shelter her from Sedgwick’s failures.”

  Even as he spoke practical words, May hovered in his mind’s eye. His own daydream of marrying her was folly now, as it had been then. More so. May Sedgwick wasn’t part of his plans. He needed a woman with connections, loyalties that ran blood deep. Despite her viscountess grandmother, she was an American seeking entry into London society, just as he was. If he wished to make amends for the past, the best course would be to wish May well when she married some fop with a title. The gossip rags loved title-for-fortune weddings, and news of such a match might knock news of her father’s losses off the front page.

  So if she was not to be his, why did anticipation buzz through him at the prospect of seeing her again?

  TONIGHT SHE WOULD show the Earl of Devenham just how attentive she could be. May was determined the man should leave Ashworth House without a single doubt about her interest. She only hoped he could forgive her previous lukewarm responses and canceled invitations.

  “He’s early.” Lady Emily tugged up her glove as she swept into the Ashworth drawing room.

  May took a deep breath and let it out slowly in an attempt to settle her nerves before standing to smooth her gown. She’d worn the Worth crimson silk with ruby beading, velvet panels in the bodice, and a daring neckline. It was time to make an impression and
catch something more than the Earl of Devenham’s mild consideration.

  “Good evening, ladies.”

  Her face began to tremble, and the smile she’d pasted on slipped. It wasn’t the affable earl but the serious and all-too-familiar Mr. Leighton. One look at him and her plans faltered. She’d known he’d be here. Prepared herself. Still, the sight of him unraveled her. Some part of her wanted to stare awhile, imprinting him in memory. A rogue rush of pleasure welled up each time she looked at him, despite how anger simmered underneath.

  “Mr. Leighton, how clever of you to come early and avoid the crush.” Emily stepped forward to greet Rex just as her father strode into the room.

  “Leighton, didn’t one of your famous countrymen have a saying about being early?” the duke asked as he shook Rex’s hand.

  “Benjamin Franklin,” May cut in. “Early to bed, early to rise, but I think even he would have acknowledged that arriving early for a party only burdens one’s host.” Pain clutched at her chest, a hollowness behind her ribcage, and she hated the bitterness in her tone.

  A bit of Rex’s cool composure faltered as he turned to face the duke. “My coachman prefers a breakneck pace, Your Grace, and traffic was surprisingly light this evening.”

  “You needn’t explain, Mr. Leighton.” Emily covered May’s meanness with a light tone. “Miss Sedgwick and I were just saying that we prefer a small party, and now we shall have one for a while.” She strode to a tray covered with diminutive glasses of sherry glinting like garnets in the gaslight and began distributing them.

  One sip and warmth seeped into May’s limbs, though it did nothing to fill the emptiness in her chest. She had to find a way to manage this ridiculous quivering whenever he was near. And the anger. Tonight she needed to charm, and there was no reason to allow Rex Leighton to ruin her plans. He wasn’t the man she’d come to beguile.

  “It’s a fine strategy to arrive early and prepare for the evening’s pursuit, Leighton. Survey the field first, I always say.” The duke circled the room as he spoke, stopping to tilt a portrait straight and refill his glass of sherry. Then he pointed at Emily. “My daughter can tell you more about each of the ladies she’s invited. Focus on the titled ones, Daughter. Mr. Leighton is on the hunt.”