“Lucien, I don’t — ”
“Luc.” He nibbled gently at her earlobe. “My friends call me Luc. Only my mother calls me Lucien.”
“Luc, I can’t, I — ”
“Shush!”
He turned her in his arms until she was facing him, and gently lowered his lips to hers. This time she didn’t attempt to escape, but froze in his arms instead, eyes wide open, not responding to him in any way.
“Will you trust me and let me show you how?”
He pulled her close, towering above her, surrounding her with his protective strength. He gently forced her lips apart with his tongue, and in so doing sensed a subtle change in her. With a sigh she relaxed against him. It was as though someone had opened a door and released a thousand passions that had been held captive for far too long. He broke the kiss but continued to hold her, drinking in her features. Her eyes were still open, searching his face for clues. She wanted to know what she was supposed to do next. Luc was too experienced to misinterpret the signs, and triumph flooded through him as he reclaimed her lips and felt them soften beneath his. It was all the invitation he needed. His tongue plundered her mouth as he crushed her against him, demonstrating by his actions just how desperate he was to possess her.
Horrified to realise that he’d almost lost control, Luc abruptly broke the kiss. Just for a moment he’d almost permitted his own needs to come first, and was appalled by his selfishness. He had the inestimable privilege of teaching this gorgeous creature, of being the first man to pay her the homage she deserved. He had no intention of rushing matters — but his body had other ideas. It burned with a raging desire he was hard-put to ignore. Years of meaningless trysts with compliant, unchallenging women had dulled his senses and made the whole act seem trivial. This was something else. He could never before recall experiencing such sweet agony, such urgent, overwhelming desire. It had never mattered to him more that he suppress his own needs and concentrate instead on his lover’s.
An inopportune knock at the door saved Luc’s sanity. Clarissa pulled away from him like a scalded cat and retreated to the chaise, her hand reaching out to make contact with Mulligan’s shaggy head. Luc, standing by the fire, cast her an apologetic smile before barking out an instruction for his caller to enter. Whoever it was had best have good reason for the interruption.
“What is it, Simms?”
Showing no reaction to his master’s irritation, Simms informed him calmly that he’d come to report on the situation with Twining.
“What of Mr. Twining?” Clarissa asked, looking up.
“Simms was carrying out my instructions.”
“Yes, but in what respect?”
Luc sighed. “I didn’t want to trouble you with this until we know more.”
“I want to know everything that’s happening.”
“Very well. I sent Simms to see Salik at Durrant’s Hotel. You’re paying for his residence there, if you recall.”
“Yes, but what of it?”
“Well, it would seem that you’re paying for nothing since Salik isn’t registered there.”
“Perhaps he’s not had the opportunity to remove there yet. It’s only been two days.”
“Indeed, my lady,” Simms said. “I came to inform his lordship that I checked again this afternoon and Mr. Salik is now in residence.”
“There you are then.”
“More to the point, my lord, my lady, Salik has registered at the hotel but no one’s actually seen him there. According to my information, his bed’s not been slept in.”
Luc assimilated this information. “Hum, interesting. But what of Twining?”
“He was followed to a house in Chelsea after he closed his office last night, my lord,” Simms replied, passing Luc the direction. “But as yet there has been no sign of his meeting with Salik.”
Clarissa peered at the address and shook her head. “It means nothing to me.”
“Hum, interesting.” Luc tapped the paper absently against his thigh. “Does Twining lodge in the house?”
“My understanding is that he occupies two rooms on the first floor.”
Clarissa’s eyes darted toward Luc. “Why are you having Mr. Twining followed? That implies you still consider some duplicity on his part.”
“Indeed.”
“I can’t accept that. He served my father and Michael faithfully for many years. He was as surprised and upset as I was when he learned of Mr. Salik’s existence.”
“In that case our surveillance will prove fruitless. But, as to his loyalty, look at this: these are the estate accounts for the last five years. Up until your husband’s death they were perfectly correct, but since then, well…see for yourself.” Luc pointed to several entries. “These are expenses and fees claimed by Twining. They are almost double those claimed over recent years.”
“Well, since Michael died I imagine there must have been a lot of extra work for Mr. Twining to do.”
“It’s common practise not to take professional fees until those matters are settled…especially as he’s continuing to claim his fee for overseeing the accounts.”
“Let me see for myself.”
Clarissa sat at Luc’s desk and took a detailed look at the areas of concern.
“I confess that I’ve not kept proper track of the accounts since Michael’s death. But when my father was alive the books were my responsibility, and I was well acquainted with them.”
Luc allowed her to study them without interruption. It didn’t take her five minutes to see the glaringly obvious errors and omissions, and the megrims which had afflicted her since she first learned of Salik’s existence seemed to dissipate before his eyes. She suddenly sat much straighter, inertia and lethargy going the same way as her blue devils. Her eyes were bright with anger, flashing brown flecked with sparkling rays of gold. There was an unmistakable determination in her expression, purpose in her ramrod straight posture, as she stood up and faced Luc.
“I’ve been a blind fool! How could I have trusted him so implicitly?”
“Because you always have. He knew it, and clearly relied upon the fact.”
“Well, in that case, my lord, he’s in for a shock. Now, what can I do to help uncover his treachery?” Clarissa stood with hands on hips, chin defiantly tiled, the unmistakable light of battle shining from her lovely eyes.
“Well, at present I — ”
She held up her hand in protest. “Don’t you dare tell me there’s nothing I can do! This is my battle, and I refuse to be a mere observer. Now, why did you have Mr. Twining followed?”
“To discover where he resided. I thought that if he and Salik are in league, they might be living in the same place.”
“And that would prove their duplicity?”
“It would certainly help. But we must be patient and allow Simms’ men to do their work.”
“Oh, but of course,” she said mildly, smiling with sweet docility.
Chapter Eleven
Luc escorted Clarissa and his mother to The Duchess of Wiltshire’s ball that evening. Clarissa was once again clad in her sea green ball gown, and as the evening progressed Luc became uncomfortably aware that he was not the only gentlemen in the room who thought she looked bewitching in it. Suspicious of the other men’s motives, he didn’t once leave her side for the first half of the ball. He claimed the first waltz with her, reluctantly surrendered her to Felix for the second, but whisked her away from him again as soon as it came to an end.
Luc could see a great difference in her that evening. She was both angered and disillusioned at Twining’s treachery and could hardly contain her impatience to denounce him for the fraud and liar she now knew him to be. Luc sought to divert her by calling upon his skills as a raconteur, shamelessly embellishing all the gossip he’d recently heard for her entertainment. Eventually he was rewarded. He sensed the tension drain out of her, and she visibly relaxed. But there was a price to pay for his success; just the sight of her laughing up at him with such animation
in her expression was all it took for his frustrations to return. The temptation to whisk her away somewhere private, where he could have her all to himself and kiss her until she begged for mercy, was overwhelming. Only the thought that he might not actually be able to remain in control prevented him from putting that plan into action.
Luc had other reasons, besides his growing attraction toward her, to stand guard at Clarissa’s side. Her band of admirers had steadily increased at every event they attended, and Luc was well aware why that had happened. When a new person is introduced into tonnish society, rumours with regard to their circumstances quickly gather pace. By now the whole room must be aware that Clarissa was recently widowed and the inheritor of two valuable estates. No one would yet be aware of Salik’s insolent claim. The fact that Clarissa was not only beautiful, but also richly endowed with property, was sufficient in itself to promote the interest of many a gentleman in need of a wealthy wife.
Indeed, some of the most impecunious gentlemen in the room were now making serious attempts to gain Clarissa’s attention. They joined her and Luc at the side of the ballroom and attempted all sorts of desperate ploys. Were it not for his own involvement with her, Luc would have found them highly entertaining.
“I say, Lady Hartley, my mother is proposing a picnic in Kew Gardens later this week. Would you do me the inestimable honour…”
“My dear Lady Hartley, pray do tell me more about your fascinating work with your Cheviot sheep. I would be so interested…”
“My dear, may I offer you my services as an escort, should you and Lady Deverill wish to see the new play at The Covent Garden Theatre later this week?”
So it went. Clarissa didn’t seem to have a particular interest in any of them, but they persisted, and given her present distracted state, Luc couldn’t trust them to behave toward her as gentlemen should. They would consider her widowed status as carte blanche to proceed in any way they saw fit to gain the advantage. Clarissa was too naïve to recognise their stratagems, and so could well finish up being compromised.
One of Clarissa’s suitors was especially persistent. Lord Eversham was heir to a vast estate not twenty miles distant from Clarissa’s. He was also, Luc had reason to know, well below the hatches. He was infamous in the hells, and rumour had it that he was having trouble honouring his latest vowels. But he was clever in his pursuit of Clarissa. He didn’t attempt flattery but instead discussed with her their native Northumberland and his own efforts with his livestock. No strategy could have worked better, and he was the only one Clarissa appeared to have any time for. He was handsome, personable, charming and, in Clarissa’s presence, careful to show no signs of being the imbiber that Luc knew him to be. His persistence concerned Luc, since the man was too desperate to give in easily.
After the supper interval, Luc passed Clarissa over to Lord Denver’s care and the waltz she had promised him. He whispered to her that he needed a private word with Felix and would be back for her after the dance. Casting a warning glance in Denver’s direction, Luc motioned Felix to join him at the back of the ballroom. They left the room together and sought out the library, confident they could talk there uninterrupted. Neither of them noticed Emily Stokes observing their departure from the edge of the room, a calculating look in her eye.
Upon gaining the library, Luc related to Felix the whole of Clarissa’s problem. He and Felix had been friends forever, and there was no one he would trust more to both keep his confidence and offer whatever help it was within his means to provide. Luc asked if any ships were expected in the near future from Cairo, or better yet, Alexandria, and if any of their crew were likely to be able to assist. Felix promised to meet Luc the following morning, as soon as he’d been able to make the necessary enquiries.
The friends discussed Clarissa’s predicament for a while longer, Felix agreeing with Luc that attempted fraud was the only possible explanation. Having exhausted the subject, Felix resolved to rejoin the dance, but Luc told him to go ahead without him. He would remain here to finish his cigar. Clarissa would be safe enough with Denver, and he craved a moment’s solitude.
But it wasn’t to be, for the door opened again almost as soon as it had closed behind Felix.
“Luc, there you are. Were you waiting for me?”
Luc inwardly groaned. “Emily, what the devil are you doing here?”
“Looking for you, of course. Luc, why have you been avoiding me?”
“I wasn’t aware that I was doing any such thing.” Luc threw the remains of his cigar into the fire, sensing that getting rid of the obdurate Emily wouldn’t be so easily achieved on this occasion.
“You don’t answer my notes, you won’t dance with me, you ignore me at parties. If that’s not avoiding me, then I don’t know what is.” She wrinkled her brow. “What’s changed between us? I thought we had an understanding.”
“Good God, why ever would you think that?”
Colour flooded her cheeks, her confidence waning in the face of Luc’s withering contempt. “Oh, Luc, how can you ask that after what passed between us at Felix’s the other week?”
Luc chuckled. “Emily, that was simply one of Felix’s parties. You knew well enough what you were attending when you accepted his invitation.”
“Oh, but, Luc, think how good it was.”
“Emily,” Luc said, holding on to his patience with the utmost difficulty, “there’s absolutely nothing between us except a pleasant evening that culminated in mutually requited lust, and we both know it.”
Luc now heartily regretted his dalliance with Emily. She had indeed been aware of what to expect at Felix’s parties, because even before her husband’s demise she’d not been averse to attending them. Luc had been foxed when she made herself available to him and, knowing the extent of her amatory history, he’d not hesitated to take full advantage of all that she offered him, thinking that would be the end of the matter. He wasn’t a vain man, and hadn’t noticed what was plainly apparent to the rest of the ton — that she’d been shamelessly pursuing him for months.
“You know you don’t mean that, Luc. You liked this, did you not?” She shrugged out of one of her shoulder straps. The neckline of her gown was impossibly low and her breasts now peeped above the lace of her corset. She took Luc’s hand and placed it upon her, forcing his fingers to close about the plump mound. “You see,” she said triumphantly when he didn’t immediately remove his hand, “you want me still.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck and tried to kiss him. Luc hadn’t laid so much as a finger on any woman for almost two weeks and, just for a moment, he was tempted. God alone knew, he was no saint and no one need ever know. If he could just relieve his frustrations he might be able to think more rationally about Clarissa’s plight.
But, no…If he gave Emily what she so obviously desired he would never be free of her. With renewed determination he removed his hands from her body and attempted to push her away from him.
“You see, I knew it!” Emily smiled victoriously, deliberately misinterpreting his actions, convinced that she’d persuaded him. “Perhaps if you locked the door we could become reacquainted?”
Luc shook his head, disgusted. “Have some pride, for pity’s sake.”
“Have it your way, darling.” She fluttered her lashes at him. “I’d forgotten how much you enjoy playing games.”
She tilted her head flirtatiously and pulled him against her. Luc knew that if she so much as touched him, in his present heightened state of awareness, he’d be unable to resist what was offered. He tried more forcefully to push her away, but Emily’s desperation was giving her superhuman strength, and she just laughed at him, lacing her fingers more tightly at the back of his head.
“Come on, Luc, where’s the harm in it?” She attempted to lift herself up and wrap her legs around his waist. “You know you want me. Why do we not have a little fun now, and perhaps tomorrow you could call upon me and we could continue at our leisure?”
Clarissa, waltzing wi
th the charming Lord Denver, struggled to make conversation. She had danced with him before and had found him to be a welcome exception to the predictability of the tonnish throng, but tonight her heart wasn’t in it. She needed to think about all that had happened that day, but thus far there had been no opportunity for solitude. Most of all though, she needed to assure herself that Luc wasn’t attempting more activities he hadn’t bothered to discuss with her first.
She was convinced that his requirement for a private conversation with Felix was somehow connected with her affairs. He’d promised that he would take no further steps without consulting her, but she sensed he was still trying to shield her from the unpalatable truth and didn’t trust him to keep his word. In his chivalrous, but ridiculously misguided, endeavour to protect her from the unpleasantness of her attorney’s duplicity, she wouldn’t put it past him to try to gull her. That possibility decided matters. She would go in search of him straight away and confront him.
Excusing herself from Lord Denver, and having no wish to be cornered by the hovering Mr. Basnet and Lord Thomas, Clarissa slipped from the ballroom unobserved. She took the same door through which she’d seen Luc and Felix disappearing, only to be confronted by a confusing corridor which branched off in different directions. She paused, wondering what to do now. If she returned to the ballroom she suspected there would be a posse of gentlemen awaiting her, and she had no wish to spend the next half an hour fending them off. She didn’t enjoy balls very much and had no wish to dance again…at least, not with anyone but Luc. She could return to Aunt Marcia but suspected that wouldn’t deter her suitors either.
Changing her mind for the third time, she decided she would definitely seek Luc out. Just at that moment she observed Felix leave a room on the left and head back to the ballroom. She was standing in the shadows, and he didn’t see her.
Luc must still be in there. In didn’t occur to her to wonder why, and she was about to approach, when something made her hesitate. This was the first time he’d left her alone for any period of time in public. She wouldn’t have him think she couldn’t survive for five minutes without him, so she’d visit the withdrawing room after all and then return to the ballroom.
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