by Lauren Smith
“You are Lady Melbourne?” Ashton asked.
“Yes. Lord Lennox I presume?”
Her lips were a pale shade of pink and not as full as most women’s, but their shape was somehow quite erotic. Rather than a pretty pout, she had a wide mouth, as though she was more inclined to smile, despite the cool gray of her eyes. Ashton rarely entertained thoughts regarding married women, but in her case he could make an exception.
“I am Lord Lennox.”
“Good. We have much to discuss, my lord.” There was a soft accent to her speech, a Scottish lilt. Not as heavy as a brogue and far more refined, as though she was trying to hide it. It was a revealing weakness and he acted upon it instinctively.
“What part of Scotland are you from, Lady Melbourne?” Ashton enjoyed watching her eyes widen. It was clear she preferred to hide her origins, something he understood only too well.
“I was born in Falkirk, my lord.”
“Falkirk? An Eaglais Bhreac,” he said with a smug smile.
“You speak Gaelic?” She looked doubly surprised.
“Only a few phrases and some cities and villages. I had an uncle who married a woman from Edinburough.”
“Oh?” Lady Melbourne replied curiously. Ashton pressed on with his advantage now that she was off balance.
“What brings you here, Lady Melbourne? Not that I don’t find your presence in my home charming, but I had expected to be meeting with Lord Melbourne.”
“Lord Melbourne?” Her black brows rose in surprise.
“Yes. I had my solicitor contact the owner of Melbourne, Shelley and Company. Your husband, I presume, or perhaps father? It is he that I need to meet with. I assume he’s related to William Lamb?” No longer surprised, her eyes seemed to glint with glee. He’d clearly missed some vital piece of information.
“I’m afraid I am the owner of Melbourne, Shelley and Company. My husband, only a distant relation to William Lamb, passed away last year. His company has been under my control for the better part of a year.”
Ashton’s jaw drop. A woman running a business? It wasn’t unheard of…but still…
“You can handle business with the opposite sex, I presume?”
He didn’t like that she’d gotten the better of him already. And the way she dressed was driving him to distraction. Her husband was dead less than a year yet she was not wearing the black crepe gown and veil expected of her. Instead, she wore a low-cut ruby dress that seemed to make her pale skin almost luminescent against the firelight. She looked more the seductress than the grieving widow. She knew her looks were an advantage and she wasn’t afraid to use them. A dangerous lady. He’d have to remember that.
“And what of Shelley? Is he stationed in London? Perhaps I ought to meet with him instead.”
A thin smile of victory teased her mouth. “That would be a waste of your time, my lord. I bought out Shelley’s stock months ago and am now the sole owner of the company my husband founded. We will be changing the name before the next quarter. So it is in fact me you need to see.” She punctuated this statement with no small amount of pride.
Ashton glowered. He was not one of those men who believed in discouraging women from the arena of business, but with Lady Melbourne he wished to make an exception. With her in the same room, he could not concentrate, not when his mind and body were conspiring against him like this.
“I’ve noticed that you are injured, my lord. Please sit. How did you come by such an injury?”
Lady Melbourne had the nerve to offer him a seat in his own bloody parlor? Oh, he’d sit down all right, and pull her body beneath his… Ashton locked the thoughts safely away in a dim corner of his mind, then he sought to regain his natural civility.
“Thank you.” He seated himself in a chair opposite the settee. “In answer to your question, I was shot recently.” He waited for her to show disgust or some form of feminine aversion to the mention of bloodshed.
She did nothing of the sort. Minor surprise transformed into open curiosity. Must be her damned Scottish blood.
“Were you dueling, my lord?” she asked bluntly.
“Dueling is outlawed. Do not make such quick assumptions about me, Lady Melbourne. I can guarantee you will be wrong on every account.” His tone was so rough he barely recognized himself. It was the tone of his youth, before he’d learned to hone in his temper.
Lady Melbourne had awakened a very dangerous inferno in him. She raised her chin defiantly in a silent challenge to his temper, but the movement only brought her tempting lips closer to his. Ashton forced himself to back away from her as he spoke again.
“My apologies, Lady Melbourne. My arm twinges with pain and it has quite ruined my ability to play the polite host.” It was the truth, though only part of it.
“I will accept your apology my lord—if you will satisfy my curiosity as to how you received your wound,” she said. Her impertinence both infuriated him and astonished him.
“The business that led to my injury was personal in nature and I will not divulge it just to flatter your curiosity. Now come, let us speak of business, if you will.”
She seemed as though she wanted to say something further, then thought better of it. “Very well,” she sighed. At that moment a maid entered with a tea tray and Lady Melbourne took the pot from the tray and glanced at Ashton.
“May I pour?” It was usually a maid’s job when a man did not have a wife or a lady of the house to perform the task, but the maid in this case took one look at him and scampered from the room without so much as a backward glance.
“Yes, of course,” Ashton muttered curtly, once more resuming his seat as she poured two cups of tea.
“When your solicitor contacted my office I was informed that the business matter that concerned you involved the purchase of Southern Star Shipping.”
“Indeed.” Ashton didn’t take his eyes off the woman as he took a sip of tea—and nearly spat it across the table.
The blasted woman had not added any milk, leaving it scalding hot. She seemed to be watching him for some reaction, some exclamation of pain, as he fought to remain calm and pretend that he hadn’t just lost all feeling in his tongue due to sabotaged tea. The woman was ruthless.
“What puzzles me is why you crave the Southern Star ships.” Ashton took another step in her direction, trying to recover lost ground. “As far as I can tell your business doesn’t require them.”
“Why does anyone want anything? I crave the power of the ships. And contrary to your no doubt thorough research on my interests, I do in fact need them for access to the Caribbean ports.” It was a business answer, but not the truth, and for some reason her answer angered him. He could not negotiate with someone with such solid defenses around her. If only he could tear down those walls somehow.
“I propose a trade. If you tell me how you were shot I will cease bidding on the Southern Star.”
This was unexpected. Another ploy to keep him off guard, perhaps? Ashton scrubbed his jaw with one hand, considering the proposal. Normally his affairs were kept private, especially those relating to the League, but he saw no harm in giving her a somewhat censored answer. He didn’t trust her, however. Not one whit.
“You would relinquish the line to me that easily?”
She gave a graceful shrug of one shoulder. “There are other lines, of course. I have enough capital that I could build my own if I had to. Buying the Southern Star was simply a more efficient way to reach my goal.”
Her answer satisfied him enough.
“I agree to your terms.” He took a deep breath. “I was shot while investigating a place of ill repute for evidence that someone of my acquaintance had hired a man to murder my close friend. That same man found us there and opened fire before running off.”
“You were shot trying to prove someone wanted to murder your friend?” Lady Melbourne seemed surpris
ed.
“Yes.” He would not tell her any more than that however.
Her reaction puzzled him further, as if his words had told her far more than he’d intended, and had told her everything she wished to know about him. “Very well. The Southern Star is yours, Lord Lennox. Enjoy the profits.”
“Oh I will, Lady Melbourne,” he assured her. If all such business could be conducted this cheaply he’d be twice as wealthy by now.
She gathered her reticule and Ashton followed her down the stairs to the door. He helped her put on her cloak before she turned to leave.
“It was interesting to meet you, Lord Lennox.” She smiled that knowing smile again and he bowed over her hand, kissing it longer than was appropriate.
“And you, Lady Melbourne. I believe we may yet cross paths again.” Their eyes met briefly and Ashton felt his world tilt on its axis. Lady Melbourne was going to be bad for his business.
When he opened the door for her, Charles stood there, hand raised as though to knock.
“Hello Ash, am I…er…interrupting?” His eyes darted between Ashton and Lady Melbourne.
“No.” Both he and the lady replied in unison.
“Right, well, Ash, I need to speak to you straight away.” Charles’s stony gaze cut to the point. Something new had developed.
“It was…interesting to meet you,” Lady Melbourne said and then hastened down the steps. He watched her depart for only a moment before Charles was dragging him by his good arm back inside.
“What is it?” Ashton asked.
Charles glanced about the house, as though searching for spies in every corner. Ashton’s worry deepened like a gnawing pit in his stomach.
“I was going through my correspondence with Lucien’s mother. They’d been building up for some time. You know how she writes to me about Lysa.”
“Yes.” Charles made few attempts to reply back to Lucien’s mother since the letters more often than not included offers of marriage to Lucien’s sister, which would never have gone over well with anyone for any number of reasons.
“Well, I noticed a strange pattern in her letters. She’s been through several footmen in the last few months. Six in all. She writes about accidents, broken legs, being thrown from a horse, a few of them just up and left without any reason. I wouldn’t have noticed except that I read all of the letters in one sitting and it struck me.”
Ashton frowned. “What struck you?”
“The pattern, Ash. The pattern.” He slapped a handful of letters against Ashton’s chest. “She said the last footman hasn’t had any of the problems the others had and that the curse might finally be lifted.”
“And you don’t believe it is a series of coincidental accidents,” Ashton said, seeing where this was going. “You think he took out the other footman to gain a secure position at the Hall?”
“Exactly.” Charles paced the entryway, and his eyes again searched around them. “The question is why Lucien’s house if Cedric is the target. Perhaps it was Lucien who was the target all along? The carriage did attempt to run him over after all. Either way, we need to warn them.”
“You’re absolutely right,” Ashton agreed. “But we must be careful. After our message to them about the cat, if we show up without cause, the man might act rashly. We should send Lucien a letter but address it to his mother. If the man is under Hugo’s control he’d likely be instructed to open any mail addressed to Lucien or Cedric. Best to do this carefully.”
“Good plan,” Charles said.
Ashton winced as his arm panged. “I’ll have you write the letter, if you don’t mind.”
He led Charles to his study and prayed their letter didn’t come too late.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Cedric stretched stiffly in his chair by Audrey’s bedside and rubbed the tight muscles in his neck with a weary hand. His sister was curled up in her bed fast asleep. Her delicate features and troubled expression made her appear like a fairy queen whose woes had followed her deep into the sacred realm of dreams.
Holding her had brought back horrific memories of years long past. He couldn’t protect her from this, couldn’t save her from all the hurts in the world. In many ways, he’d been both father and mother to her and Horatia after losing their parents, and perhaps the greatest cost had been that there was no one to hold him as he silently grieved.
The memories of last evening struck him all over again and Cedric shut his eyes. He’d been fond of Muff. The cat had been one of the last connections he and his sisters had of their parents before the accident.
The accident. How many years would pass before the sting of his parents’ deaths would subside? A man could only endure so much before it finally broke him.
Audrey shifted restlessly and awoke to find Cedric staring straight through her, his mind still far away.
“Cedric?” Her voice was a little hoarse. She’d cried herself to sleep last night after he’d made her eat dinner and collapsed with exhaustion. A weak smile revealed she was doing her best to come to terms with events. She’d taken the death hard but had already begun to move on. Good girl, he thought silently.
“What is it, sweetheart?” He sat up straighter in his chair. Audrey smiled at him, but it was sad and wistful.
“I’m sorry that I’ve been so much trouble for you lately.” She pushed back her covers and sat up to face him.
“You’re a woman, Audrey. Troublemaking is the forté of your gender, like convincing Charles to go along with your scheme and thinking it wouldn’t anger me. I don’t mind, except when I end up strangling my best friend over it. We ought to talk about that, you know.” Cedric found himself smiling despite himself.
“I suppose we ought to,” Audrey agreed.
“Why didn’t you come to me? You could have told me that you wished to marry. I had no idea you were in such a state of desperation.”
“It is different for women, Cedric. I think that because Mama is not here that it is harder for you to understand. I want to marry. I want a husband and a life beyond Curzon Street. I dread a future like Horatia’s.”
Cedric slid to the edge of his chair. “And what future is that?”
“She’s almost one and twenty and yet she will never marry because she’s—” Audrey clapped a hand over her mouth.
The suddenness of her move worried Cedric. “Because she’s what?”
“Oh I mustn’t say. She wouldn’t want me to betray her confidence.”
Cedric was on his feet and looming over her. “You’d better tell me everything or I won’t be very generous over the next few months for your shopping allowances.”
Audrey scoffed. “Betray my sister for new gowns? Don’t be silly.”
“What if I doubled your allowance next month if you did?”
“Bribery? Never!”
“And what if I send you away to a place where there are no men of marriageable age?”
Audrey’s eyes narrowed to slits, glowering up at him. “You play a cruel game, Cedric. I will tell you, but if Horatia finds out you learned it from me, I will find the next man on the street, be he a lamplighter or chimney sweep, and I shall run off to Scotland with him.”
Cedric smiled. “You’d never marry a chimney sweep. The soot would ruin your fine gowns. Now, about Horatia? You know I only want to make her happy. Tell me and I will see that it is kept between us.” His used his best cajoling brotherly voice, yet his sister seemed unmoved.
“Cedric, I shouldn’t tell you. You’ll get angry, and nothing can come of it regardless. Just forget I said anything.” She pursed her lips as though resigned never to speak again.
“Do I ever get angry at you or Horatia? I know I threatened your suitors, but have I ever shown a temper with you or your sister?”
She cocked a brow, as though internally debating the matter. Finally with a heavy sigh, she rele
nted.
“I suppose no more than any other brother might. But if I tell you, you mustn’t overreact. She won’t ever marry because she’s still in love with Lucien. She’s never loved or wanted anyone else.”
Cedric’s throat went uncomfortably dry. “Lucien?”
He’d known that long ago Horatia had developed a child’s affection for Lucien, but he thought that had ended long ago. Now it all made sense. Horatia being upset every time Lucien was even mentioned, her odd behavior on the rare occasions when they’d been forced to be in the same room.
“You are sure she still loves him?”
“Yes and I believe that Lucien may be starting to return her feelings.”
This was worse than he could have imagined. Lucien was like a brother, but if he was entertaining thoughts of an amorous nature towards Horatia… The League’s rule existed for a reason. The last thing he or the others wanted was to fight over someone’s sister, or pick up the pieces should the courtship sour. He could entertain thoughts of letting Audrey marry Jonathan because that man was young and didn’t carry the weight of the sins the rest of the League did. But Horatia marrying Lucien was out of the question.
That man had a taste for wicked pleasures and Cedric would die before he let Horatia play a role in those dark fantasies. He could have any woman in the world, but not Horatia. Horatia deserved a gentleman who would care for and love her for the reserved and deeply loyal woman she was. She did not need to be burned in the wake of Lucien’s fleeting passions.
Cedric shuddered as he recalled his discussion with Lucien in the billiard room the day before. Lucien had spoken of his changed feelings towards Horatia and foolishly Cedric had assumed his friend viewed her merely as a sister once again.
“What proof do you have of his feelings towards her?” Cedric asked.