A Simple Case of Seduction

by Adele Clee

  “So if you have no intention of knocking the front door, how do you propose to gain entry?” Her breath came quicker now, the white mist breezing from her mouth evidence of over-exertion. His thoughts were drawn instantly to their amorous interlude in the carriage — when she’d panted, clutched his shoulders and cried his name.

  Damn it all.

  The intimate moment they’d shared did nothing to satiate his craving, only fed it all the more. Nothing would ever compare to that one perfect moment. Even now, while holding Daphne’s hand to steady her balance, desire coursed through him like a fast-flowing river in danger of bursting its banks.

  “We’ll enter through the window in the study,” Daniel said forcing his mind back to the present. “Did you bring a candle and tinderbox as I asked?”

  “Of course. They’re in the concealed pocket of my pelisse.”

  “You have a hidden pocket in your coat?”

  From her soft hum, he imagined her nodding but couldn’t see clearly in the dark. “Betsy made a few alterations for me. Depending on the circumstances, it is often better than carrying a reticule.”

  “Perhaps I might ask her to sew a holster for a pistol inside my greatcoat. It would certainly make life easier.”

  Daphne chuckled. “I’m sure if Mr Bostock asked her she would do anything. Betsy does seem rather enamoured with your associate.”

  “Or rather enamoured with his carpentry skills.” Daniel chuckled as he imagined his friend rearranging furniture and repairing cupboard doors.

  “Bostock told me how he met you,” she suddenly said. “By all accounts, he’s always been skilled with his hands.”

  For all the saints. Were his friend not made of stone, he’d punch him on the nose. “If there’s one thing Bostock detests it’s an unfair fight. He offered his assistance despite knowing nothing about me. It was during one of my first cases as an enquiry agent. Try as I might, the man has refused to leave my side ever since.”

  There was much more to the story than that. But now was not the time to dredge up memories of the past.

  “He said you declined an education at Cambridge in favour of working for yourself,” Daphne continued. Bloody hell. Bostock needed a lesson in curbing his tongue. “When Thomas said you met at school, I assumed that was where he meant.”

  “I met Thomas at Eton. While he continued with his studies, I chose another route.” His blunt response conveyed his desire to change the subject. The urge to run took hold, the urge to do something other than reveal the extent of his tragic upbringing.

  “Wait. I’m struggling to keep up with your long strides.” Daphne tugged on his hand forcing him to stop. “Just give me a moment to catch my breath. Do you always walk so quickly?”

  “Trust me this is a slow pace.” The lie fell easily from his lips. “Perhaps it would have been best if you’d stayed at the inn.” He’d tried to persuade her to do just that, but logic said the safest place to be was at his side — even if they were about to enter Lord Gibson’s house without permission.

  “Two people searching is quicker than one.” She was right. The least amount of time spent in Lord Gibson’s house the better.

  But did she really think he would allow her to enter the lord’s premises unlawfully?

  “You’ll wait outside while I search the study.” Robbery carried a more severe sentence than loitering. Not that he would get caught. “Should we be discovered, we may have no option but to run.”

  Daphne failed to reply, which meant she’d do what she pleased regardless of his opinion.

  They continued in companionable silence. The night was cool, calm, peaceful. Yet the refreshing breeze on his face brought no relief to his chaotic thoughts.

  For a man who’d spent his childhood living in a fantasy world of his mother’s creation, he’d come to realise daydreams were for the misguided. Dreams were for those too weak to face the harsh reality of life. So why did fanciful notions of love, marriage, and a family home in the country continually fill his head?

  “Look, over there.” Daphne’s voice broke his reverie. She pointed to the grey shadow in the distance. “That must be Lord Gibson’s house.”

  “When we get a little closer, there’s a stone wall around the perimeter, but it’s low enough for me to lift you over.” Touching her without his body flaming would be the greater task.

  The distinct lack of light spilling out from the tall windows on the facade suggested no one was home. They followed the gravel path around the house, though were careful to walk on the grass verge. After peering through the windows in the east wing and discovering the drawing room and then the ladies boudoir, it became apparent that the masculine rooms were located in the west wing.

  Once they’d passed the billiard room, common sense told him the next room was sure to be the study.

  “This is it,” Daphne said cupping her hands to her face and pressing her nose to the glass. “How are we to get inside?”

  Daniel scanned the frame. “Breaking one of the small panes is an option.” It had to be done with skill and precision to avoid waking the household.

  “With their master away the servants will be in their beds, or playing cards around the kitchen table while drinking his port. Either way, I doubt they’ll hear a thing.”

  While examining which pane to remove, he noticed the brass catch had been left open. “There’s no need to break the window. Some fool forgot to lock it.” Daniel used the heel of his palm to push up the sash. “Wait here. Once I’m inside, pass me the candle and tinderbox.”

  He climbed through the gap, padded over to the door which he presumed led into the hall, and turned the key in the lock. The sudden sound of flint striking steel captured his attention, and he swung around to see Daphne leaning over the empty grate, trying to light the charcloth in the tinderbox.

  “I told you to wait outside,” Daniel whispered as Daphne blew on the piece of glowing fibre. “Be careful. Blow too hard, and a spec of cloth might fly up and catch the drapes.”

  “Why do you think I’m lighting it down here? I’ve done this a hundred times before.” She blew a handful of times as a cloud of smoke wafted into the room.

  “You’re blowing too hard.” Daniel fanned his hand in front of his face for fear of choking. “We’re liable to alert the whole household with our incessant coughing.”

  As the cloth ignited, she took the candle from the inside pocket of her pelisse and dangled the wick in the flame. “Here,” she said handing him the candle as she blew out the flame in the box. “Find a holder.”

  Daniel did as she asked. With the room cast in a golden glow, he scanned the mahogany desk as it was always the best place to start. He placed the holder on top and tried the drawers only to find them locked.

  “Gibson may have taken the key with him.” Daniel moved the chair and ran his hand under the wood in the recess. Nothing.

  Daphne came to stand in front of the desk, brushing ash from the grate off her hands. “Why take it with him when something so small could be easily lost.” She examined the ink pots on the desk, removed one of the gilt lids and picked out a small key from inside the glass holder. “This might be what you’re looking for.”

  Daniel jerked his head back. “How did you know it would be in there?”

  “No one would lift the lid on an ink pot without just cause in case they got ink on their hands.” She offered him a sweet smile. “And a man doesn’t need four pots on his desk.”

  “Indeed.”

  Trying not to show his slight embarrassment for not finding the key first, Daniel unlocked the middle drawer and peered inside. Other than a quill knife, a magnifying glass and a leather pouch full of sovereigns, there was nothing of interest. He moved to the row of drawers on the right, relieved to find the same key worked in the lock.

  “I’ve found nothing so far,” he said.

  “I’m not really sure what we’re looking for.” Daphne wandered about the room, picking up books and flicking through
the pages, examining the tiny door on the rear of the mantel clock. “Gibson would be a fool to leave written proof of his duplicity.” She moved to the row of rosewood bookcases lining the far wall and sniffed.

  Daniel found a pile of papers in one drawer including a legal document pertaining to land the lord had recently acquired in France. There was a vowel for the price of fifty pounds owed by a gentleman named Biggs. A copy of a supplement from The Gentleman’s Magazine dated 1820.

  “This might be of interest.” Daniel flicked through the pages until he got to the section on domestic occurrences. “There are details of a trial for libel, a riot in Greenwich and—” He stopped abruptly, scanned the document again to be certain his eyes weren’t playing tricks.

  “And?” Daphne did not look at him but continued to sniff in the vicinity of the bookcase.

  “And brief details of the coroner’s inquest into Thomas’ death.”

  “What?” Daphne rushed to his side and glanced over his shoulder. “The jury brought a verdict of accidental death due to drowning.” She muttered the words as she read the article. “Why would Lord Gibson keep a copy of a magazine that’s three years old?”

  “As a token perhaps.” As Daniel turned the page, a leaf of paper floated to the floor.

  Daphne picked it up and held it near the candle. “It’s a list of times and dates the Carron docked in London. They go back three years or more.”

  “May I see it?” Their fingers touched as he took the note, sending a shiver of awareness shooting up his arm. Regardless of where he was or what he was doing, his desire for her always simmered beneath the surface. “There’s no mention of Lily or Thomas. But Gibson obviously has a vested interest in following the Carron’s movements.”

  “Perhaps Lord Gibson is not the traitor.” Daphne glanced left and right and sniffed the air again. “Thomas might have sent him the list for some reason.”

  “But why would he send it to Gibson?” Daniel frowned when Daphne rubbed her nose. “Are you ill? Has the walk across the damp grass given you a chill?”

  “No.” Chin in the air, Daphne turned away from him. “I caught a whiff of something familiar.” She walked over to the bookcase, sniffing like a hound eager to latch onto a scent. With a sudden gasp, she bent down and opened the first in a row of cupboards underneath. “The smell is stronger over here, far more potent.”

  Daniel should have continued searching the drawers, but he couldn’t drag his eyes from Daphne’s round derriere as she worked her way along the row. “Perhaps Gibson spilt brandy or port and the scent still lingers.”

  Daphne gasped. “That’s it. The scent lingers.” She knelt on the floor and rummaged through the cupboard. “It’s the same musky odour the intruder leaves behind at home.”

  “Are you sure?” Daniel placed the paper back inside the magazine, slipped it into the pocket of his greatcoat and moved to stand next to Daphne.

  “Positive.” She pulled out a small wooden box and opened the lid.

  There was a lengthy pause while she stared at the objects inside.

  “What’s wrong?” Daniel crouched at her side.

  A gasp left her lips when she picked up the plain, glass bottle of French cologne and removed the stopper. “This is the scent worn by the intruder.” All colour drained from her face as she inhaled deeply. “This is the smell he leaves behind.” With a quick shake of her head, she pushed the stopper back into the bottle and dropped it into the box as if it might burn her fingers.

  “There’s another item in the box.” Daniel knew she’d seen the object wrapped in a soft red cloth but she seemed reluctant to examine what was hidden inside.

  “You take it out and see what it is.”

  Daniel picked up the item. From the shape and weight, he had an idea what it was before he peeled back the cloth. He glanced at Daphne, but her eyes were closed.

  “What is it, Daniel?” The tremble in her voice spoke of apprehension, not excitement.

  “It’s a gold pocket watch.”

  Pain flashed across her face. She opened her eyes slowly and stared at the metal case sitting in his palm.

  “May I see it?” she said, her fingers trembling as she held out her hand.

  “Of course.” He placed it in her palm and for a moment feared she lacked the strength to hold it.

  She grimaced as she flicked open the case, sucked in a few sharp breaths and tried to regain her composure. “This … this watch was given to Thomas by his father.” Her finger came to rest on the dent on the lid. “He dropped it once when we were out walking and cursed himself the whole way home. Many times he said he would get it repaired, see if a watchmaker could smooth out the metal.”

  A tear trickled down her cheek, and Daniel placed his hand on her arm. Rage burned in his chest at the thought of confronting Lord Gibson with the evidence. Sorrow pained his heart for there was nothing he could do to bring Thomas back.

  “I suppose he thought there was no rush,” Daphne continued. “That he would get around to it, eventually. But fate intervened.”

  “Thomas did not deserve to die like this.” Anger was the only emotion evident in his voice. “Killed by a coward who’d sell his own mother to the devil.”

  A whimper left her lips as she closed the lid and clutched the watch tight in her hand. “I’m not leaving it here. I’m not leaving it in a dusty old cupboard.”

  “No, we’ll take the box and cologne with us too.” Daniel came to his feet and held his hand out to her. “Come, we must leave this place before we’re discovered.”

  Daphne nodded and slipped her tiny hand into his.

  After climbing out of the window, Daniel closed the sash gently, and they trudged back across the field towards the coaching inn. They walked the two miles in relative silence. A wistful melancholy settled around them, dragging them deeper into the depths of despair. Images of Thomas’ last moments flashed into Daniel’s mind: eyes wide with terror as he fought the urge to breathe water. Had it happened quickly? What did one think about when they realised death was inevitable?

  They arrived at the coaching inn to find a new coach in the courtyard. The small family-run establishment operated with minimal staff and consequently, the innkeeper and his wife were too busy with the late arrivals to pay them any heed.

  “Do you want to keep the box with you in your room?” Daniel said as they stopped outside the door to Daphne’s bedchamber.

  The lines between her brows grew prominent as she searched his face. “Stay with me,” she whispered. “Don’t leave me to sleep alone, Daniel. Not tonight.”

  The words tore at his heart. He’d give everything he owned to ease her pain. “What if someone should see me entering your room?”

  “No one knows us here. Discretion is a skill we’ve both mastered.” She touched his arm, and it took all the strength he possessed to suppress his desire.

  “Very well.” He glanced left and right. “Open the door before someone sees us.”

  Once inside the private space his body reacted instantly. But one did not need to be a skilled enquiry agent to know that she wanted something else from him tonight.

  Not really knowing what to do or what she expected, he followed her lead. They removed their coats and boots, washed their face and hands in the bowl of cold water on the washstand.

  “I’ll sleep in my clothes,” she said as she climbed onto the bed.

  And that was his cue to do the same. Stripping off his waistcoat and pulling his shirt loose from his breeches, Daniel settled down beside her.

  They both lay there staring at the oak beams on the ceiling for a few seconds though it felt more like an hour.

  “So what do we do now?” She turned onto her side and looked at him.

  The ambiguous question left him floundering. “In what regard?”

  “Now we’ve found evidence of Lord Gibson’s involvement, how should we proceed?”

  What they’d found proved nothing. But he needed time to think. “Let’s g
et some sleep. We’ve a long day ahead of us tomorrow. There’ll be plenty of opportunity to discuss the case.”

  Once at Elton Park, Daniel would make himself scarce. Long walks in the garden would give him the perfect excuse to be away from the main house, from the guests who had nothing better to do than pry and ask impertinent questions.

  Daphne sighed. “Would you do something for me?”

  Daniel cast her a sidelong glance. Did the woman not know he’d do anything she asked? “That depends on what it is you’re asking?”

  “Hold me.”

  It was remarkable how two simple words had the power to render him helpless. He put his arm around her and gathered her closer. Damn. If his heart continued to beat so fast, it would burst from his chest.

  Daphne snuggled into him, placed her head in the crook of his arm, her hand flat on his chest. Needing to find a way to distract him from all amorous thoughts, he held her close and stroked the hair from her brow.

  Exhausted from the events of the day, she drifted off to sleep in a matter of minutes. He stared at her for the longest time, buried his face in her hair, closed his eyes and inhaled the unique scent that had a magical ability to soothe his soul.

  That was the moment he finally admitted the truth he’d spent years denying. He was in love with the woman sleeping in his arms. So in love with her it hurt.

  Chapter 17

  The wedding took place in St. Bartholomew’s: a quaint medieval church less than half a mile from Elton Park. While Daphne’s eyes welled upon hearing Anthony and Sarah recite their vows, Daniel kept his head bowed and stared at the ancient flagstones. With his sombre expression, one would think they were mourning the dead not celebrating the joining of two people in love.

  “What’s wrong?” Daphne whispered, giving him a little nudge to get his attention.

  “Nothing.”

  “Can you not try to look happy for them?”

  “I am.”

  Daphne sighed. He’d been cold and distant since leaving the coaching inn. Hostility radiated from every fibre of his being. Heaven help the person who made eye contact or dared strike up a conversation.