His Wicked Charm

by Candace Camp

  “Me?” Her voice rose.

  “Yes. Your home is near Sabrina’s, I thought.” He looked at her quizzically. What had brought that sudden look of panic to her face?

  “Well, yes, it is. We were neighbors. But, um, I’m not at Barrow House.”

  “I’ve heard that trains are quite handy for taking one from one place to another.”

  “Yes, but that’s a long way to go, and you don’t even know that the key is at Carmoor.”

  “You just said that was the most likely place for it. And I think we can survive a trip to the wilds of Somerset.” How very curious. Lilah’s manner was almost furtive.

  “It’s so sudden. Impulsive. There are things I would have to do—pack and, um, well, we should consider it before we act. It would be rude, just to drop in like that. I haven’t even written my aunt.”

  “Oh. It’s your aunt’s estate? I thought it belonged to you.”

  “It does. But my father’s sister is living there now.”

  “That’s all to the good, then. You’ll have a chaperone, so it will be proper.”

  “You clearly don’t know Aunt Vesta.” Lilah’s laced her fingers together tightly. “The thing is, Barrow House is old and... Well, you wouldn’t care for it. It’s old-fashioned. Uncomfortable.”

  “I can sleep anywhere. I’ve even been known to sleep in a tent in a field.” He studied her face. “You don’t want me there, do you?” The idea shouldn’t cause this pang in his chest; he was aware of Lilah’s antipathy. Con took cover in a comically tragic expression. “Miss Holcutt...I am devastated at your unkindness. You will have me sleeping in a ditch.”

  Lilah rolled her eyes. “Con...you are the most egregious overactor.”

  “I? Miss Holcutt!”

  “Stop calling me Miss Holcutt every other sentence.”

  “But I do think Lilah would be much too familiar, given your lack of welcome, don’t you? But perhaps you would prefer Delilah.” He wiggled his eyebrows ludicrously.

  “If you don’t cease this nonsense, I think I may hit you.”

  “Now I’m all aquake.” But Con found that he was tired of playing this game. It wasn’t as if he could force Lilah into liking him. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t tease you.” He gave her an easy, impersonal smile to show his lack of resentment and stood up. “I’m sure there’s an inn in the village where I can stay.”

  Lilah got to her feet, as well. “It isn’t really an inn. Only a couple of rooms above the tavern. It’s doubtless noisy.”

  Now what was the problem? “I can sleep through anything.” He began to walk to the park’s exit.

  Lilah followed. “I doubt it’s comfortable. Maybe not even clean.”

  “Lilah...” He turned on her in exasperation. “You told me the key was most likely to be at Carmoor, so why the devil are you so eager now to keep me from searching the place?”

  “I’m not. It’s just... You’ll break in and get caught. You’re always so rash.”

  Con looked at her. There was something more here. It wasn’t just that Lilah wasn’t fond of him—or at least it wasn’t all that. She was pale, almost frightened. His face softened, and he started toward her. “Lilah, what’s the matter? Why are you afraid?”

  “Afraid!” She bristled, taking a step backward. “What nonsense.” She spun on her heel and marched off. “Blast!” She swung back to face him. “Oh, very well. You may stay at Barrow House.”

  Con’s eyebrows soared even higher, and he began to laugh. “Why, Miss Holcutt, how could I refuse such a gracious invitation?”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  LILAH REGRETTED HER decision immediately. She couldn’t take Con home. She thought of Barrow House; she thought of him meeting her aunt. He would tease Lilah mercilessly. There’d been no reason to give in to him. He hadn’t argued or even continued to tease her. Instead, he had given her a polite, pleasant smile that she had never seen on his face before. The sort of smile he might show a stranger. And it had pierced her.

  It was absurd to worry that she had hurt his feelings. He was a man whom barbs bounced from. Yet she had felt like a selfish wretch.

  It was silly; Con was always annoyed with her anyway. Indeed, once he’d thought about it, he would have been relieved to be free of Lilah’s interference. He could happily explore the house by himself, poking into every nook and cranny.

  While she stayed here, making calls and receiving visitors, warding off Sir Jasper’s proposal. She had said she would do anything to help Sabrina, and yet she was refusing to even visit her own home in an effort to help Sabrina. What sort of a friend was she?

  It was that thought that had made her give in. For an instant, watching him laugh, she’d been happy, almost eager. But now, as Con chatted amiably about timetables and train tickets, all Lilah could think was what her aunt would say. Aunt Helena disliked her seeing the Morelands, yet here Lilah was, jaunting off to Somerset with the worst of the lot.

  She had promised only to not call on the Moreland family, so this trip to Barrow House didn’t break the letter of their agreement, but it certainly trespassed against the spirit of it. Nor could Lilah reveal to Aunt Helena the real purpose of their trip; that would only make things worse. She would be aghast at the notion of Lilah running about the countryside, tracking down clues to a doubtlessly apocryphal treasure.

  Much to Lilah’s chagrin, Con insisted on seeing her to the door, and her aunt immediately popped out of the drawing room as they walked in, as if she’d been watching for them. Lilah forced a smile. “Aunt Helena.”

  “Delilah.” Yes, her aunt was displeased. Aunt Helena’s eyes went to Con and narrowed.

  There was nothing for it but to introduce Con. He swept her an elegant bow. “Mrs. Summersley, it’s such a pleasure to meet you. It’s clear now that beauty must run in Miss Holcutt’s family.”

  To Lilah’s surprise, her aunt softened, and she extended her hand to Con. Apparently she was no more immune to Con’s charm than other women. “Lord Moreland, how kind of you. I regret that I was momentarily out of the room when you called earlier. I wish Lilah had sent for me.” She cast a dark look at her niece. “I fear you must think me lax in my chaperonage.”

  “Not at all. Miss Holcutt’s uncle—or was it her cousin?—was there, so it was all very proper,” Con assured her.

  “I apologize for leaving the house so abruptly,” Lilah told her. “I had forgotten I had promised Lord Raine’s children that I would have ices at Gunter’s with them.”

  “My nieces would have been most upset.” Con continued on his good behavior for the next ten minutes, sitting down in the drawing room to exchange meaningless pleasantries. He ended his visit, however, by saying, “Your niece has been so kind as to invite me for a visit to Barrow House.” Ignoring Aunt Helena’s stunned expression, he went on, “I look forward to meeting Miss Holcutt’s other aunt.”

  “Oh. I—how unexpected.” Aunt Helena swung her gaze to Lilah.

  “Yes, C—Lord Moreland is interested in the architecture of Barrow House.” Hastily Lilah added, “Elizabethan architecture is one of his...um, interests.”

  “Indeed,” Con agreed. “One of my passions, even.” He directed a dazzling smile at Lilah’s aunt. “I do hope you will forgive me for stealing your niece away for a few days.”

  “Yes. Of course,” Aunt Helena replied weakly.

  “I’m sorry that you must take your leave of us so soon, Lord Moreland,” Lilah said, jumping to her feet. “But I know you are pressed for time.”

  Con sent an amused glance at Lilah, but he rose to his feet and said, “Thank you for reminding me, Miss Holcutt. There is much to do if we are to leave in two days.”

  “Two days?” Her aunt goggled.

  He smiled winningly at Helena. “Yes. Your niece is a model of efficiency.”

  “Of course,” Aunt Helena replied, lo
oking confused. “But I don’t understand the need for such a rush.”

  Con started to speak, but Lilah tucked her hand in his arm and gave it a little tug. “I’ll let Miss Holcutt explain that,” Con said. “I must leave. I’m sorry. It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Mrs. Summersley. I hope to see you again soon.”

  Con bowed over her aunt’s hand. Lilah dug her fingers into his sleeve and pulled. “I’ll see you to the door.”

  They walked back into the entry hall. Con bent his head toward Lilah and murmured, “I fear you’re leaving bruises, my dear Miss Holcutt.”

  “What? Oh.” She glanced down at her tight grip on his arm and dropped it. “I’m sorry. I have never told so many lies in one afternoon in my life.”

  “Don’t worry. You’ll grow accustomed to it.”

  “I don’t want to grow accustomed to it.” She stopped and turned to him. “I’m not sure this is a good idea.”

  “Don’t back out on me now, Lilah.” He smiled down at her. “Think of it this way—at least you’ll avoid Sir Jasper’s proposal.”

  It was doubtless wrong of her, but Lilah chuckled. “Just go.”

  He took her hand and bowed over it, but he didn’t release it immediately, instead leaning forward until his lips were only inches from her ear. His breath on her skin sent a shiver through her. “I promise I won’t importune you...at least, not much.”

  * * *

  HER AUNT WAS waiting for her in the drawing room, arms crossed, her face stern. “Lilah...have you run mad? First, you sneak out of this house with a man, completely unchaperoned and without my knowledge.”

  Temper sparked in Lilah, but she firmly shoved it back down. “I am over twenty-one. Surely I don’t need your permission to leave the house.”

  “Courtesy should impel you to at least tell me you were leaving.”

  “I left you a message. As for being unchaperoned, you thought it was all right for me to be alone with a man when you left the drawing room.”

  “It was Sir Jasper. That’s an entirely different matter.”

  “Why?”

  “Because Sir Jasper isn’t a temptation,” Helena said with far more candor than was customary. She sighed. “Hopefully no one will learn of this afternoon’s misstep. We can count on Sir Jasper not to say anything. But now you’re proposing to hare off to Somerset with Constantine Moreland! To stay in the same house with him!”

  “People frequently invite both men and women to house parties. Even unmarried men and women.”

  “But they are chaperoned. There are other people there.”

  “We will be chaperoned. My aunt lives there.”

  “Vesta?” Helena made a noise that would have been termed a snort in anyone less refined. “Your father’s sister is no chaperone. She’s worse than no chaperone. She’s the one who created the storm to begin with. And the way she’s been flaunting herself all over Europe since then! Calling herself Madame LeClaire, though everyone is certain she’s never been married.”

  “I won’t be swayed by Aunt Vesta. And I should hope that I have established a good enough reputation that it won’t be tarnished by being in the same household with my aunt for a week or two.”

  “I would never question your morality, dear. But it’s how it will look.”

  “Isn’t the important thing how it will be?” Lilah shot back. “Don’t you care about that?”

  Helena’s eyes widened in shock. “Lilah, how can you question that?”

  “I’m sorry. Truly. I don’t question your love or concern. But I do think that I should be able to have some freedom.” The feelings she’d been having the past few days—no, weeks—welled up. “To decide for myself what to do.”

  “I have no desire to cage you. But I worry about you. I remember how unhappy and frightened you were when I first brought you here to live. The times you awakened from nightmares. The tears you cried.”

  Some of the tears had been for her father and her home, though she doubted Aunt Helena ever realized that. But Lilah remembered, too, how Aunt Helena had awakened her from her nightmares and held her, how she had sheltered and protected her. Lilah smoothed down her irritation.

  “I know. But I’m not a child anymore, Aunt Helena, and you don’t have to shield me. Aunt Vesta has written me several times, asking me to come see her.”

  Aunt Helena let out an indelicate snort. “No doubt because she wants something from you. That woman cares only about herself.”

  “I am well aware of that. But she is, after all, my father’s sister, and as such I must show her respect. It has been rude of me not to go there.” This, more than anything, would sway Aunt Helena’s mind. “I won’t be influenced or hurt by Aunt Vesta. Nor am I weak and silly enough to allow Con to take liberties.” She already had of course, but there was no need to tell Aunt Helena that. “Don’t you trust me?”

  “Of course I trust you.” Aunt Helena took her hand. “It’s Lord Moreland I don’t trust. I’ve heard he behaves most peculiarly. That agency he runs—they say he dresses up in disguises, pretends to be all sorts of low creatures. You know that people call them the Mad Morelands.”

  “That’s most unfair and unkind,” Lilah protested hotly. “They are not mad.”

  “They’re odd. They don’t behave as they should. They’re different.” Aunt Helena turned away with a gusty sigh and dropped back down into her chair. “How I wish you had never gotten tangled up with the Morelands. Why couldn’t Sabrina have married a nice, normal young man?”

  “Alex is normal.”

  “I fear he will lead you on and break your heart.”

  “Con?” Lilah let out a short laugh. “There’s little danger of that.”

  “He’s a very personable young man, handsome, as all the Morelands seem to be, and he has that dash of something wild about him that’s so intriguing.”

  “Aunt Helena!” Lilah gaped at her aunt, mildly shocked.

  Her aunt made a little moue. “Do you think I don’t remember what it was like to be a young girl? How alluring a rogue can seem? I also know that’s the sort who will leave you weeping. He is friends with that Hetherton set, and they’re interested only in having a good time. I fear he’s not looking for marriage.”

  “Then it’s fortunate that I am not looking for marriage either. I know Con flits from girl to girl like a butterfly. But he’s no deceiver. He’s honest, even rudely blunt. I shan’t swoon over him. He and I have managed to get along, after a fashion, since Sabrina married his brother, but that is the extent of our ‘friendship.’”

  “Then why are you running off to Somerset with him?” Aunt Helena narrowed her eyes at Lilah. “And don’t try to fob me off with that silly story about the architecture of that monstrosity of a house.”

  Lilah’s mind raced furiously. “No, that’s not the real reason. It’s the official story, the one we are putting about. It concerns Sabrina, so we didn’t want to make it known.” That much, at least was the truth.

  “Sabrina?” Her aunt frowned. “But Sabrina isn’t even here.”

  “No, and that is exactly why he must go there.” Her aunt’s words gave her inspiration. “With Alex gone, Constantine is the manager of his twin’s affairs. That now includes Sabrina’s matters, as well.” That, too, hovered in the vicinity of the truth.

  “But what does that have to do with you and Barrow House?”

  “Apparently someone has broken into Carmoor. More than once.” Lilah hated lying to her aunt, but she couldn’t tell her the truth. It was too outlandish. It was typical of Con that the truth would sound more unlikely than a falsehood. Aunt Helena wouldn’t consider looking for a key as an acceptable reason to hasten off to Somerset with Con Moreland.

  “Thieves? What is the world coming to? What happened? Did they take anything?”

  Her aunt looked so concerned that Lilah was swept with guilt. Li
es were coming to her far too easily. “I’m not sure. Lord Moreland didn’t tell me the details. He was reluctant, naturally, to frighten me.” That was the biggest untruth of them all.

  “Naturally.”

  “But he is worried about it. He must leave immediately to look over things. He can hardly stay at Carmoor—there are no servants, and it’s been closed up for years. The inn in the village would be entirely unsuitable for a duke’s son.”

  “Yes, I can see that you would feel obliged to ask him to Barrow House, but you needn’t go with him.”

  “But I must. I can’t let him meet Aunt Vesta on his own. Imagine what he’d think.”

  “Oh. Yes, you’re right.” Aunt Helena appeared more alarmed by this possibility than she had by thieves. Her aunt sighed. “I suppose you must accompany him, but it’s most worrisome.” She squared her shoulders. “Perhaps I should go with you.”

  Lilah almost laughed at her aunt’s martyred expression. “No, that’s very kind of you, but I would not subject you to spending all that time in Aunt Vesta’s company.” To say that the two of them did not get along well was a vast understatement. “We would all be miserable.”

  Her aunt’s face brightened. “You must take Cuddington with you.”

  “Your maid?” Lilah asked in horror. Cuddington was as sour a person as existed, stiff and critical.

  “Yes.” Aunt Helena nodded her head, pleased with her idea. “I will rest much easier, knowing you have Cuddington along.”

  “But what will you do without her?” Lilah protested. “I’ll take Poppy with me.”

  “I’ll manage,” her aunt said determinedly. “Poppy is a sweet girl, but far too young and easily charmed. Cuddington is the answer.”

  Lilah sighed. “Very well. I’ll take her with me.”

  It did afford her some amusement to think of Con’s expression when he met Cuddington.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CON LOUNGED AGAINST a pillar, watching the flow of travelers into Paddington Station. He had arrived too early. After buying the tickets, he’d had nothing to do except wait, which he had never been good at. He wished that he’d picked Lilah up from her house rather than meeting her at the station.