Seduced By A Devil

by Vella, Wendy

  “Here is the locket.” Mr. Sinclair handed it to one of them, and she took it to her desk and began to draw.

  The woman called Samantha came in with the tea.

  “If you do not mind, would you tell your story again, Miss Brown.”

  With a teacup in her hand, she did as Mr. Sinclair directed.

  Why did her locket have French words on it? It made absolutely no sense.

  “We will be in touch when we have something to tell you,” Mr. Sinclair said when there was nothing further to say.

  Dimity left the building and walked slowly down the lane thinking about what Mr. Sinclair had told her. Who am I? Fingering the locket, she wondered who had given it to her.

  “Will I ever know the truth?”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Dimity walked, letting thoughts come and go until her stomach rumbled. Only then did she realize how far she’d wandered. The houses were not as big here, and lived in by doctors, lawyers, and businessmen.

  She saw a small, square white sign up ahead on the railings. Blight’s Tea Shop. Her stomach rumbled loudly. Too nervous to eat her morning meal, she’d gone all day without food. Deciding she could just as easily think while eating as walking, she entered the shop.

  Making her way to the rear, she smiled to the other patrons as she found a small table that would allow her some privacy.

  “Miss Brown!”

  Dimity sighed as Mr. Diard approached her table. She did not have a problem with the artist, however, she wanted to be alone today to work through her thoughts.

  “What has you here today?”

  “I was visiting friends,” Dimity lied. She had no wish to tell anyone what she’d been doing. “What has you here, sir?”

  “I live but a few miles away and the food is excellent.”

  As usual he was dressed elegantly, if a little flamboyantly. Mr. Diard’s coats were always embroidered and his waistcoats colorful. An image of red satin flashed into her head.

  Damn that man. Why can I not rid my head of him?

  “May I join you, Miss Brown?”

  “Dimity,” she said again, as she had many times before. “And yes, of course.”

  “I’m afraid I cannot stay long, as I have an appointment for my next commission,” he said, pulling out a chair. “But I saw you entering the teashop and could not leave without speaking with you.”

  She could no longer deny the look in his eyes. He’d shown in many small ways that he was interested in pursuing her. Did she feel the same? Would she be happy to leave England and return to France with Mr. Diard, if it came to that?

  She studied him as he chatted about his work and the progress of the duchess’s portrait.

  “Will you come to the theater with me, Dimity?”

  “Oh… well, I’m unsure I can, as the duchess’s—”

  “Was the one who told me to ask you,” he interrupted.

  “Really? Well in that case, I would love to go to the theater with you.”

  He rested his hand on the top of hers.

  “You must know by now I am enamored by you, cherie.”

  Color flooded her cheeks. Dimity had never had a man speak to her this way before.

  “Your blush only enhances your beauty.” He lifted her hand and kissed her fingers, and Dimity desperately wanted to feel something.

  They both turned as the shop bell tinkled again, and every muscle in her body stiffened. The Earl of Raine was entering the tea shop. Her eyes ran over him. She’d not seen him in over ten days and refused to admit how excited she felt about seeing him now.

  He wore no jacket, only a waistcoat, which shocked her, and his necktie was in disarray. Was that a stain on his sleeve? She’d never seen him anything but immaculate.

  “Tell me you feel something for me, cherie?” She felt Mr. Diard’s lips on her skin once more. Dragging her eyes from the earl, she made herself focus on the man kissing her hand.

  “My life has been unsettled of late. You will excuse me if I do not give you the answer you want now, Mr. Diard.”

  “I have time on my side, Miss Brown. I can wait.”

  The slam of the door had them turning to look at the earl once more. His brows were drawn together in a fierce frown, and his eyes were on them, or more importantly, the hand that Mr. Diard held to his lips. He was angry. She just wasn’t sure why. Surely it was not because she was taking tea with a man?

  Dimity watched Lord Raine weave his way through the tables to where they sat.

  “Lord Raine.” Mr. Diard regained his feet.

  “Diard, Dimity.” The earl’s tone was clipped.

  “Lord Raine.”

  He placed a hand on her shoulder as she began to rise from her chair. “Stay in your seat, I already know you can curtsey.” His eyes moved back to Mr. Diard.

  “Well, I will be off, as I have an appointment,” the Frenchman said, smiling, and clearly oblivious to the tension in the large nobleman. “Good day, my lord. Miss Brown, I shall see you tomorrow,” he said.

  “Of course. I shall look forward to it,” Dimity replied.

  “Why are you here with him?” Lord Raine asked after the door had closed behind Mr. Diard.

  “What concern is that of yours?”

  “I was your employer, and my sister is your friend. I have a right to know why you were holding hands with that Frenchman.” He spat out the last word.

  “He finds me beautiful. I was exploring the possibility that I may find him handsome also, and you absolutely do not have a right to know why we were holding hands.”

  “And do you find him handsome?” His eyes bored into hers. “Surely you can see through that slick facade?”

  “You’ve met him once, my lord. That is not enough time to judge his character.”

  “I know men like him,” he muttered.

  “And now I will ask you a question, Lord Raine. Why are you here in such a location so far from your elegant townhouse?”

  His eyes did a sweep of the room and the working-class people seated in it.

  “Are you suggesting I am out of place here? Shame on you for your snobbery, Miss Brown.”

  “I’m not a snob!”

  “Of course you are, but I forgive you.” And just like that, his scowl changed into a smile. “They have excellent sandwiches and cakes here.”

  Her eyes ran over his shirt sleeves. “You are a long way from home, my lord.”

  “It is not a long way by horse. Besides, the distance to yours is greater.”

  “But unlike you, I am of the working classes, Lord Raine. Why are you in your shirt sleeves?”

  “Am I?” He looked at his arms in mock surprise. “I had not realized.”

  “Extremely amusing.”

  His sigh was loud, and then much to her surprise he pulled out the chair Mr. Diard had recently vacated and sat.

  “I did not ask you to sit.”

  “And yet I am.”

  “Because you are a pompous earl?”

  “Yes, that.” He waved her words away. “If I tell you why I am here, you will have to swear to keep it secret, even from Abby.”

  “I am an excellent secret holder.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “Ask your staff. I kept their secrets.”

  “What, all of them?”

  “Not all, no, but a few.”

  “And did those secrets have anything to do with the household of noblemen they served?”

  “It is a secret, therefore I can say nothing further.”

  He sat back in his chair and studied her. “You passed the first test then. Are we bad employers, Dimity?”

  “No. Your staff love you.” She’d wanted to lie, but that was beneath her, at least in this situation.

  “You sound a bit annoyed about that fact.” He smiled, and it made him look younger.

  “Why have you got paint on your sleeve? And where is your jacket, Lord Raine?”

  A young woman approached to take their order. Before Dimity
could open her mouth, he started talking.

  “We’ll have tea, and some of those raisin and nut sandwiches with the topping I like. Also, two ginger buns, please. And perhaps two of the lemon ones.”

  “You can’t eat all that!” Dimity said as her stomach rumbled.

  “No, but we can.”

  “I can buy my own tea.”

  “But as I have a great deal more money than you, I will.”

  Dimity looked left and right, hoping no one heard that arrogant statement. “I can’t believe you said that.”

  “I’m an earl. We’re an arrogant bunch.” He shrugged.

  “I’m sure most of society is aware of that, however, I have no wish to experience said arrogance firsthand. I will be going and leave you to enjoy your tea.”

  “Don’t go.” His fingers wrapped around her wrist. “Please.”

  “It is not right.” Her skin felt warm under his fingers.

  “What’s not right?”

  “This, you and I sitting here taking tea.”

  “Do you need a chaperone, Dimity? I did not see evidence of that when Mr. Diard was kissing your hand.”

  “Don’t mock me.” She glared at him. “I may not be of noble birth, but I will not be mocked for your pleasure.”

  “I’m not mocking you.”

  “And Mr. Diard is a man who works for his livelihood, as do I. Neither of us need chaperones, as no one cares a jot about our reputations.”

  “Unlike I, who am not a man who works for his livelihood?” His words had a bite of anger to them. “Do you think I sit about the place demanding people see to my every whim constantly, Dimity?”

  “No, I don’t think that. But your life is different from ours.”

  “And that is my fault, is it? I did not decide to be born into the world I live in, just as you did not choose the life you live.”

  She knew he was right, just as she knew she owed him an apology.

  “I’m sorry if my words offended you, my lord.”

  “I forgive you,” but his words still had a sting to them.

  “But I just don’t think it’s done for earls to take tea with companions.”

  “Or maybe they do and you don’t realize it.”

  “No, they don’t.”

  “Well, we shall, and perhaps it will be the start of something new.”

  “I doubt that very much,” Dimity muttered.

  “Do you know, Miss Brown, I think you are far more concerned with convention that I,” his eyes held hers.

  “Someone has to be.”

  “Miss Dimity Brown, always doing what is right,” he said. “Perhaps you will be the next Heloise Tompkinson.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Heloise Tompkinson wrote The Young Ladies Guide To Good Manners And Elegant Etiquette. I know this because my aunt purchased a copy for Abby.”

  “And she read it?”

  “She threw it out the carriage window on the journey home from said aunt’s house.”

  Dimity pressed her lips together to stop from laughing.

  “Now tell me about you and Mr. Diard. Surely you are not seriously interested in that French fop?”

  Chapter Twenty

  Gabe had left the house early, before his brothers rose, to speak to informants. He was determined to uncover something about Ombrage. He would not be hunted like an animal, nor forced to stay inside his house like a prisoner.

  He had much to live for, and even more now he was to be an uncle. No one was taking that from him. He’d spent some time last night going through his papers, ensuring all his affairs were in order. His family would want for nothing. But who would they come to when they needed something? He was head of this family. Daniel, perhaps? He was a man of good sense. Perhaps Gabe should speak to him about this.

  He needed to locate Ombrage.

  It seemed after the initial meeting to recruit men, Ombrage had gone silent. There was no word about the attempted abduction of the king, but security around the monarch had tightened after Gabe told Geraint what he’d learned.

  After coming up empty-handed with his informants, he’d decide to visit Nugget Lane. No one knew about this place; it was his and his alone. An indulgence that he felt no qualms about keeping. His brothers would be displeased that he’d left the house without one of them, but Gabe needed space and time to think. He couldn’t do that with one of them hovering.

  Hunger had sent him to the teashop he frequented often, which had the best baked goods in the whole of London. Not that he’d tell his cook that.

  When he’d seen Dimity’s hand being kissed by that French wastrel, his anger had been swift. Seeing someone other than him touch her had every muscle in his body clenching. Not that he’d touched her in any way that truly satisfied him, but that another might had made his skin hot.

  He’d wanted to storm to their table and haul the dandy to his feet, then shake him and his lace cuffs. Instead, he’d remained where he was until he was under control. He was an earl, for pity’s sake. They didn’t create scenes in public—unless, it seemed, he was in the presence of Dimity Brown.

  Looking at her seated across from him, he wondered how she could infuriate and arouse him at the same time. Dressed in buttercup yellow, the material covered in small blue flowers, she looked so sweet, his teeth gritted.

  This woman was becoming a problem for Gabe; he just wasn’t sure what to do about it. Perhaps Diard would help him there. If they were a couple, then— No! Everything inside him revolted at that prospect.

  “Thank you,” he said to the woman who placed the food and tea before them. Dimity’s stomach rumbled, which made him laugh.

  “Forgive me.” She flushed with color, looking young and sweet. A facade, he knew, but she looked it just the same.

  “As you know, I live with my brothers, and they have absolutely no manners. A small stomach rumbling does not offend my sensibilities.”

  He reached to pour the tea.

  “I can do that.”

  “As can I.” He continued to do so. “I am served constantly; it does not harm me in any way to do the same for others occasionally.”

  She looked at him, her head tilting slightly to the side, as if to study him.

  “What?”

  “Now that you are no longer angry, and I’m not sure why you were, you appear different today.”

  “From?” He wasn’t going to explain why he was angry.

  “The earl I know. You appear more relaxed in your shirt sleeves and less….” Her words fell away.

  “Earlish?”

  “I don’t think that’s a word.” She frowned, and he wanted to stroke the line between her eyes that had formed.

  “My sister thinks it is. Does it offend you that I am wearing no jacket, Dimity?”

  “Of course not. I just don’t know why you don’t have one on. I mean, it is not like you, and you are not near your home, and….” Her words fell away.

  Gabe liked that she was off-balance around him, because he felt the same.

  “I keep a room not far from here, Dimity. A place that I go when I want absolute silence and privacy; not an easy state to achieve with three brothers.”

  He’d shocked her now. Clearly, a man who had as many rooms in his house as he did could find a place there for privacy. In her eyes it would be seen as indulgence, yet another place to call his own, when families lived in one-room houses and struggled.

  “So, this is where you come to be you?” she said softly. “An escape from the demands of your family and title?”

  Now it was he who was surprised. “I thought you’d mock me.”

  “For owning yet another residence?” Her brow rose.

  “Yes.” Gabe picked up the sandwich on his plate and took a large bite.

  “I don’t like people judging me, so I will not judge you.” She nibbled on her sandwich.

  “Is this a new rule? Because I’m sure you’ve been judging me since the first day we met.”

  “As you have
constantly judged me,” she said without her usual fire.

  He raised his teacup. “Shall we call a truce to aid our digestion?”

  She nodded, then took a healthy bite of ginger bun.

  “How is it you have paint on your arm, my lord? Are you perhaps decorating yourself?” There was only interest in her look.

  “Eat and I will show you, but I must have your promise that you tell no one.”

  “I promise,” she said solemnly.

  “But do you mean it?” he teased.

  “I’m insulted you believe I don’t.”

  “My sister can’t keep secrets, or my brothers for that matter.”

  Gabe watched as she dabbed at her lips with a napkin. One thing about this woman that had always intrigued him was her manners. Everything about her screamed lady.

  “May I ask you something, my lord?”

  “Of course.”

  “I received some money from my brother, and some of my father’s things. The note accompanying it stated that I was to tell you I had received it.”

  He didn’t move his eyes from hers, but inside he was cursing the man she’d called brother. Sniveling rodent. He’d said those words to let Dimity know the gesture had not been his alone.

  “I went to see your brother.”

  She lowered her cup to its saucer with a clink.

  “Why would you do that when I told you not to?”

  “Because he threw you out of your home, Dimity, and had no right to do so.”

  “He believes he had a right, but that is not the point. I have no wish for you to meddle in my affairs. I can look after them myself.”

  Her chin was up now, and that look of fierce determination back in her eyes. And that, Gabe had to admit to himself, was what intrigued him about her. She never cowed to him like some. His title meant absolutely nothing to her, and she carried on like she was a bloody duchess. The hell of it was, he admired that.

  “Shortest truce in history,” he said. “Why did he believe he had a right to throw you from your home, Dimity?”

  “It is my concern, not yours.”