Outside, Thompson was quick to jump down from the box and open the coach doors. “We’re going to stop at my office on the way back to Fairmont Park,” Tom said as he helped Victoria into the coach. “Number three-hundred, in Oxford Street.”
Thompson acknowledged the instructions with a curt nod and closed the door behind Tom.
Chapter 22
A Grecian Goddess Casts a Spell
A few minutes later, in 300 Oxford Street
Victoria angled her head back as she regarded the Portland stone building before her. The dim light from the gas lamps at the corner and in front of it made it hard to see the shingle. Hanging from a decorative rod that protruded from the white stone, the sign’s lettering, Grandby & Son, gave no hint as to the nature of the business located there.
“It looks new,” she remarked as Tom offered his arm.
“Father had the façade cleaned last year. Made a world of difference,” he replied as he led them to the entrance. He extracted a key from his waistcoat pocket and was quick to open the door. He held it for her and then moved to turn on the gas sconces along the corridor. Light bloomed, revealing the green moire silk walls and thick carpeting, and Victoria inhaled softly.
“It looks as if this is new,” she commented as Tom led her to the end of the corridor. His secretary’s desk and counter were clear of papers. Only a green-glass shaded lamp sat on the counter. “Who was your decorator?”
Tom allowed a guffaw. “Father said he wanted green, Mother chose the silk, and a month later, it was done. But that was years ago.” He turned up the gas for the next set of lights and entered his office. He stepped aside and waved an arm for Victoria to join him. “This, my lady, is where I spend most of my time when I am not traveling.”
He moved to the credenza behind his desk and poured brandy into two crystal glasses as Victoria gingerly stepped into the office, her gaze quickly taking in the masculine surroundings. He offered her a glass, and she took it.
“Do your clients usually meet you here?” she asked when she noticed there were two chairs placed in front of the desk.
“They do,” he replied.
Her eyes widened as she moved to one of the artifacts he had on display. “And yet you came to me.”
Tom took a swallow of his brandy and allowed a shrug. “It wasn’t an inconvenience, my lady,” he said. “You served an excellent luncheon. I find doing business over a meal far better than across a desk,” he added.
Victoria remembered her appointment at the bank with Mr. Burroughs. Food—or at least drinks—would have made the awkward meeting less so. “Is this yours?” she asked as she indicated a globe of the earth mounted at an angle in a decorative brass stand.
Joining her at the wall of shelves holding his library and a number of artifacts and objets d’ art, Tom nodded. “It was a gift from a Brazilian client, made entirely of a lapis lazuli agate found in one of his mines.”
Victoria leaned over and studied the globe more closely. “How is it possible?” The gleaming surface displayed light and dark blue that matched the shape and size of the continents and the oceans.
“Well, it would be worth far more if the other side had the American continents,” he said with a chuckle as he gave the globe a slight shove. The orb turned, revealing that the other side was almost entirely dark blue. “Even so, it’s a beautiful piece.”
“Very unusual, it is not?”
He considered the query a moment. “Not for Brazil, I suppose. The gemstones they’re pulling out of the mines there certainly keep the jewelers in Ludgate Hill in business.”
“Gemstones?”
“Amethysts, citrine, tanzanite, emeralds, tourmaline, topaz... they all come from various regions of the country.”
Victoria shook her head. “I had no idea.” She turned her attention to the next curiosity. “And this?” she asked, her gloved finger nearly touching the mid-section of a marble statue depicting Dionysus. His fully-erect penis was mostly missing.
Tom’s face reddened. “The god of wine and...” He paused, about to add ‘fertility’ when he noted her expression of amusement. “Grape cultivation.”
She arched a brow before taking a sip of her brandy. “It seem Dionysus has been dismembered.”
Covering a guffaw by clearing his throat, Tom finally gave up trying to hide his humor. “He arrived like that. From an archaeological dig in southern Greece.” He held his breath when he saw that her attention had moved to his latest acquisition.
The pelike featuring the birth of Aphrodite held a spot dead center in the oak shelving, lit by a nearby gas chandelier. “Now I understand what you meant about pearls,” she murmured. “Do you suppose Aphrodite was an irritant to Poseidon?” The forefinger of her free hand had moved to hover next to the god of the sea while her other hand gripped her glass of brandy.
Tom considered the query a moment. “Doubtful. She bore him two daughters. Rhodos and Herophilos,” he replied.
Victoria pointed to the figure on the left side of Aphrodite. “Hermés seduced her, and she bore him a son.”
“How did you know that’s Hermés?” Tom asked in surprise. He’d had to be told the figure’s identity by Gabe Wellingham.
“He’s holding a herald’s wand,” she murmured. “He was the herald of the gods,” she added as she pointed to the staff he carried. “And he,” she pointed to the boy with wings next to Poseidon. “Is Eros.”
Tom gazed at her in awe. Even when she turned to ask him about the next curio, he continued to stare at her.
She lifted a finger to her face. “Do I have something...?”
She couldn’t complete the sentence. Tom’s lips had captured hers in a most unexpected kiss.
For just a moment, Victoria thought to lift a hand to his shoulder and shove him away, but then his lips moved over hers in a most delicious way, his tongue urging her lips to separate. All at once, she tasted brandy and champagne as the scents of sandalwood and musk surrounded her. She nearly dropped her glass, now empty of brandy, barely aware of anything but him and his lips and what they were doing to hers.
She was so lost in the kiss, she would have allowed him to do whatever came next. But the distant sound of a closing door brought her back to her senses. Before she could step away, though, Tom ended the kiss and quickly stepped back. He inhaled sharply and then turned his attention to his office door.
Thompson appeared in the opening a moment later, his eyes darting about. “Pardon, my lady, but...” He paused. Having expected to find his mistress in a compromising position, he was suddenly at a loss for words.
Victoria turned from the Greek vase and regarded her servant with an expression of curiosity. “Yes, Thompson?” she prompted. “Is something wrong?”
“You mentioned midnight.”
Blinking, Victoria glanced around the office until her gaze fell on a Baroque clock near the desk. “Oh, my,” she murmured. “Is that the correct time, Mr. Grandby?”
Tom pulled his Breguet from his waistcoat pocket. “It is midnight, my lady,” he said in surprise. “I’ve kept you far too long.” He angled his head in the driver’s direction. “I got carried away showing off my collection of antiquities,” he said lightly.
“At my insistence,” Victoria said, placing the brandy glass on his desk. “But I must go now. I have an appointment with a horse in the morning.”
“Lucky horse,” Tom murmured under his breath.
Victoria gave him an arched brow before she headed toward the door. “Are you coming?”
Tom considered how uncomfortable their trip to Fairmont Park might be after what had just happened. “If my shire might be allowed to spend the night in your stables, I think I shall take a hackney back to Arthur’s. I can send a man for my phaeton in the morning.”
As soon as he finished the comment, he knew he had made a mistake. Victoria’s expression shifted from disappointment to suspicion.
Her chin lifted, Victoria said, “Very well. I appreciate the dinne
r, Mr. Grandby. Good night.”
She turned on her heel and paused as if she had to catch herself. But Tom was already there, shoving an arm beneath hers as his other hand came to rest atop her arm. “I’ve got you,” he whispered.
Victoria’s first reaction was to pull away, but her foot protested with an ache that nearly had her staggering.
Thompson had already moved to the front door, holding it open for her. He frowned at seeing how she leaned on Tom for support as she made her way down the corridor and out the door.
“Are you all right, my lady?” Thompson asked as he aimed a quelling glance in Tom’s direction.
“I’ll be fine, Thompson. Just as soon as I’m off my feet.”
“Perhaps I will come with you,” Tom whispered as he opened the coach door.
“That’s really not necessary—”
“Can you climb the stairs to your bedchamber?”
Victoria inhaled sharply. “I’m not above crawling up them if I must,” she countered, sounding annoyed.
Tom stepped up and into the coach. “That’s it. I’m coming with you,” he said as he settled onto the opposite seat from hers, bending his knees as much a possible lest his feet tangle with hers. Thompson shut the door behind him.
In the sudden darkness, Victoria turned her gaze out the window. “I shouldn’t wish for you to miss your appointment this evening.”
Tom blinked, wondering at the odd comment. “The only appointment I had scheduled this evening was with you, my lady.” He paused and then finally sorted what she implied. “Well, there is the one with my bed, but as is the case every night, I shall be the only one in it.”
Victoria inhaled sharply, glad for the darkness that hid her combination of relief and surprise. She had been sure Tom’s reason for staying in town had to do with a mistress.
Why had she reacted with such sudden anger, though? Their dinner was merely an occasion to celebrate a business transaction. Nothing more.
But that kiss in his office? That hadn’t been a celebratory kiss. Or a kiss of friendship. That look on his face—when she had put voice to the identities of the gods on the Greek vase—that look had been filled with wonder. With awe. As if he couldn’t believe she would know such a thing, and the fact that she did must have raised his opinion of her.
Or aroused him.
The last thought had heat rushing through her entire body. That knowing a bit of Greek mythology might elicit such a reaction from a man seemed odd to her. But then Tom Grandby was obviously well-educated. A man of the world. She knew that from their meeting at Fairmont Park. Their conversation over dinner reinforced it.
The few minutes in his office? That had felt as if she had been invited into his sanctuary. The place he spent most of his days. The place where his clients usually met with him. Clients who were probably all men.
“Tell me, Thomas. Am I the first woman who has ever been in your office?” she asked, her query breaking a silence that had grown uncomfortable.
“Except for my mother and a few of my sisters, yes,” Tom replied. He paused a moment before adding, “My lady, I should apologize for what happened, but I cannot help but think that if I do, I will only anger you more, and I do not want there to be any animosity between us. Just the opposite, in fact.”
Victoria inhaled softly, stunned he would so perfectly guess her reaction should he put voice to an apology. But then, he did have lots of sisters. He had probably learned long ago never to antagonize a female lest he suffer their wrath. Or their thorns.
“I am not angry with you, Thomas,” she murmured, realizing it wasn’t anger that had her reacting when she had thought he would be meeting a mistress.
She had been jealous.
“I am relieved to hear it, my lady.”
“Answer me this, please,” she said, grateful for the dark and the sound of the coach wheels that kept their conversation private. “Why did you kiss me?”
She heard him inhale to respond, but no words came at first. When they did, they were impossibly close, and she realized he had leaned forward as far as he could to respond. “I could not help myself, my lady. I have never known a woman like you.”
Victoria knew if she leaned toward him, their faces would be close enough that they might continue what had been interrupted in his office. But with the sway of the coach, the kiss would be awkward.
Instead, she lifted a gloved hand to his face, felt his hand cover it and bring her palm to his lips. “Because I happened to recognize a few Greek gods on your favorite vase?”
He kissed her gloved hand and said, “Yes,” he replied. “How... how did you know them?”
Allowing a chuckle, Victoria said, “My brothers had tutors, and I suffered from boredom. My governess gave up on trying to keep me out of their classroom, and my mother...” She allowed a long sigh. “My mother just gave up.”
Tom tightened his hold on her hand. “I rather doubt that last,” he whispered.
“She is beside herself that I live without a paid companion and train horses. I won’t even tell her of my arrangements with you lest I further distance our relationship.”
The coach turned, and a quick glance out the window showed they had pulled into the circle drive of Fairmont Park.
Tom straightened and gave up his hold on her hand. “Do not think ill of her. She only wants what she thinks is best for you,” he murmured, just before the door opened. “I’ll see you inside.”
He made his way down the step to the crushed granite drive and then turned to help her down. Light from a couple of lanterns flashed, and he whirled to discover Jemmy pulling Jake and his phaeton from around the side of the house. One of the lanterns hung from the side of his phaeton. Grateful for the boy’s thoughtfulness, he paused to give Jemmy a coin before he escorted Victoria to the door.
When Victoria’s walk didn’t suggest she was favoring her foot, he lifted her hand and kissed the back of it. “Thank you for joining me this evening. I’ll see you again when I have news from our partner.”
She nodded, a bit dismayed that Thompson seemed intent on hovering nearby instead of returning to the coach. “I look forward to it. Good night, Mr. Grandby.” This time, she curtsied to his bow and disappeared into the house.
As Tom made his way toward his phaeton, he called out a thanks to Thompson. The groom seemed perplexed, but finally gave him a nod. “G’night, sir.” A moment later, and Thompson was driving the town coach toward the side of the house.
Tom inhaled and turned to regard Jake. The huge beast was obviously not pleased at being hitched up for a post-midnight ride. “Come, let’s get you home,” Tom said as he stepped up into the driver’s seat.
It was nearly half-past one when Tom pulled into the mews behind Arthur’s.
The very last person he expected to find waiting for him was the Earl of Haddon.
Chapter 23
A Plea for Help
In the mews behind Arthur’s, in St. James Street
“The gent’s been waitin’ for ya for nearly an hour,” the stableboy, Bobby, said when Tom pulled up to the mews behind Arthur’s. He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “I sent him into the club. Told ’im I’d come for him when you arrived, but he came back out a few minutes ago.”
Tom’s first thought was that the Earl of Haddon was foxed and had simply gone the wrong direction after leaving White’s. But then he noticed occasional puffs of smoke surrounding Christopher’s head as the man leaned against the club’s back wall.
The faint scent of a cheroot reached his nostrils as did the hint of snow that might start falling at any moment. Despite the earlier evening’s clear skies, winter was once again settling over London.
“Haddon? Is that you?” Tom asked as he turned the reins over to the stableboy. He clambered down from the phaeton and hurried toward the club.
“Grandby. I was about to give up on you,” Christopher said as he crushed the stub of the cheroot beneath a boot. He held out his right hand. “I do hop
e she was a beauty and a good tumble.”
Tom shook the hand and indicated they should go inside. “She was Lady Victoria, and I assure you, my lord, there was no tumbling involved,” he replied. Even if there had been, he wouldn’t admit it to the earl.
Christopher looked suitably chagrined. “Apologies. Did you want there to be?” he queried as they made their way to a pair of chairs near the back. At this late hour, only the die-hard card players and a few younger bucks remained in the club.
Deciding it better he not answer the earl’s question—Tom feared his words might find their way back to the duke’s daughter since Haddon was a friend—he said, “We had dinner. To discuss business.” He turned his attention to the waiter who had just joined them. “Ah, Watson. Surprised to see you still about at this late hour.”
When the waiter recognized Tom, he displayed a look of surprise. “You’re up late as well, sir,” Watson commented.
“Indeed,” Tom replied. “Two brandies, if you would,” he said, glad when the waiter hurried off.
Tom turned his attention back to Christopher. “I do hope you weren’t waiting long. What’s the matter?”
“I think I made a mistake.”
Tom stiffened. “With Miss Comber?”
Christopher nodded. “I paid a call at her home this afternoon.”
Tom furrowed a brow. “Had she even returned from Fairmont Park?”
His eyes darting about before he leaned in closer, Christopher said, “I deliberately timed my arrival so that I would be there when she returned.”
Wincing, Tom said, “You wished to lie in wait for her? I take it she was not pleased to see you?” he half-guessed.
The earl seemed to think on the query for a time before he said, “She didn’t seem displeased.”
“Ambivalent, then,” Tom murmured, his expression suggesting the young lady had every right to be. “Why did you go?”
The Choice of a Cavalier (The Heirs of the Aristocracy Book 3) Page 16