by Amanda Quick
“I see.” Lavinia fixed him with an expression of surprisingly keen interest. “Will you be placing advertisements in the newspapers? I have been considering doing that myself.”
Tobias paused in mid-munch and lowered the remains of the currant pastry. “What the devil? You never mentioned any such scheme to me.”
“Never mind.” She waved away his inquiry with a small sweep of her hand. “I will explain the details later. It is just a notion that I have been toying with lately.”
“Toy with something else,” he advised. He popped the last bit of pastry into his mouth.
Lavinia shot him a repressive glare.
He pretended not to notice.
Howard cleared his throat. “In truth, I probably will not put notices in the papers because I fear it will only attract the usual assortment of ordinary clients with ordinary nervous problems.”
“Yes, I suppose there is some risk of that.” Lavinia looked pensive. “Nevertheless, business is business.”
The conversation veered off into the arcane and the highly technical aspects of mesmerism. Tobias wandered back to the window and listened to the lively discourse, but he took no part in it.
He had serious misgivings about the entire business of mesmerism. The truth was, until he encountered Lavinia, he had been convinced that the results of the French inquiries into the subject were correct. The investigations had been led by such esteemed scientists as Dr. Franklin and Lavoisier. The conclusions were simple and straightforward: There was no such thing as animal magnetism and therefore mesmerism had no scientific basis. The practice was nothing short of fraud.
He had readily accepted the proposition that the ability to induce a deep trance was a charlatan’s act suited only for entertaining the gullible. At most he would have concluded that a skilled mesmerist might possibly be able to exert influence over certain weak-minded individuals, but that only made the business all the more suspect in his opinion.
Nevertheless, there was no denying that the public interest in mesmerism was strong and showed no signs of abating, in spite of the views of many medical doctors and serious scientists. He sometimes found it disquieting that Lavinia was trained in the art.
The Hudsons took their leave half an hour later. Lavinia went to the front door to see them off. Tobias remained at his post at the window and watched Howard hand his wife up into a hackney.
Lavinia waited until the coach had set off before closing the front door. When she walked back into the parlor a moment later, she appeared far more at ease than she had when she had arrived home. The visit with her old family friend had evidently eased some of the tension. Tobias was not certain how he felt about Hudson’s power to elevate her mood.
“Would you care for another cup of tea, Tobias?” Lavinia reseated herself on the sofa and picked up the pot. “I am going to have some more.”
“No, thank you.” He clasped his hands behind his back and looked at her. “What the bloody hell happened while you were out this afternoon?”
She flinched at the question. Tea splashed on the table.
“Good heavens, see what you made me do.” She seized a small napkin and went to work blotting up the drops. “What on earth makes you think that something happened to me?”
“You knew that you had guests waiting for you. You had invited them yourself.”
She concentrated fiercely on wiping up the small spill. “I told you, I lost track of time and the traffic was terrible.”
“Lavinia, I am not a complete idiot, you know.”
“Enough, sir.” She tossed the napkin aside and fixed him with a dark look. “I am in no mood to be put through one of your inquisitions. Indeed, you have no right to press me about my private affairs. I vow, lately you have begun to sound altogether too much like a husband.”
An acute silence fell. The word husband hung in the air between them, written in letters of fire.
“When, in fact,” Tobias said eventually and very evenly, “I am merely your occasional partner and sometimes lover. Your point, madam?”
A rosy flush colored her cheeks. “Forgive me, sir, I do not know what came over me. That was uncalled for. My only excuse is that I am somewhat vexed at the moment.”
“I can see that. Speaking as your concerned, occasional partner, may I ask why?”
Her mouth tightened. “She was flirting with you.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Celeste. She flirted with you. Do not deny it. I saw her. She was not particularly subtle about it, was she?”
He was so astonished that it took him a few seconds to comprehend what she was talking about.
“Celeste Hudson?” he repeated. The implications of the accusation reverberated in his head. “Well, yes, I did notice that she made a few dilatory efforts in that direction, but—”
She sat very straight, her spine rigid. “It was disgusting.”
Was Lavinia actually jealous? The dazzling possibility sent a pleasant euphoria through his veins.
He risked a small smile. “It was rather practiced and therefore not particularly flattering, but I would not call it disgusting.”
“I would. She is a married woman. She had no business batting those lashes at you the way she did.”
“It has been my experience that women who are inclined to flirt do so whether or not they happen to be married. Some sort of inborn compulsion, I suspect.”
“How awkward for poor, dear Howard. If she carries on like that with every man in sight, he must be humiliated and unhappy a great deal of the time.”
“I doubt that.”
“What do you mean?”
“I have a hunch that poor, dear Howard finds his wife’s gift for flirtation extremely useful.” Tobias crossed to the tea tray and helped himself to another pastry. “In fact, it would not surprise me to learn that he married her precisely for her talents in that line.”
“Really, Tobias.”
“I am serious. I have no doubt but that she attracted any number of gentlemen clients to his practice in Bath.”
Lavinia appeared quite struck by that observation. “I had not thought of that possibility. Do you suppose she was merely attempting to interest you in a series of therapeutic treatments?”
“I think it’s safe to say that Mrs. Hudson’s eyelashbatting amounted to nothing more than a form of advertisement for Hudson’s mesmeric therapy.”
“Hmm.”
“Now that we have settled that matter,” he continued, “let us return to my small inquisition. What the devil happened today while you were out shopping?”
She hesitated and then gave a small sigh. “Nothing significant. I thought I saw someone in the street I once knew.” She paused to take a sip of tea. “Someone I did not expect to see here in London.”
“Who?”
She wrinkled her nose. “I vow, I have never met anyone who can manage to return so repeatedly to a subject that a person has made very clear that she does not wish to discuss.”
“One of my many talents. And no doubt one of the reasons why you continue to employ me as your assistant now and again on the odd case.”
She said nothing. Not mutinous or stubborn, he thought. She was deeply uneasy and perhaps not certain where to start her story.
He got to his feet. “Come, my sweet. Let us collect our coats and gloves and take a walk in the park.”
About the Author
AMANDA QUICK, a pseudonym for Jayne Ann Krentz, is a bestselling, award-winning author of contemporary and historical romances. There are over twenty-five million copies of her books in print, including Seduction , Surrender, Scandal, Rendezvous, Ravished, Reckless, Dangerous, Deception, Desire, Mistress , Mystique, Mischief, Affair, With This Ring, I Thee Wed, and Wicked Widow. She makes her home in the Pacific Northwest with her husband, Frank. Her next book, Don’t Look Back, will be available in hardcover from Bantam Books in June.
Visit her website at www.amandaquick.com.
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