London's Wicked Affair Page 7
“No, thank you. As much as I appreciate you seeing me, I have a favor to ask and won’t take unnecessary time out of your day.”
“Don’t mind if I enjoy one then.” Dobson reached into his pocket and removed a small key from a ring that held several others. He made quick work of unlocking the cabinet, and poured a glass of amber liquid before he motioned toward two overstuffed chairs facing the clerestory windows. Lunden sat without pause.
“Intriguing to see you after all this time. You seem much as you did ten years ago.”
On the outside perhaps; certainly not the inside.
“Must be the country air.” Lunden shifted in his chair and the pouch in his pocket wedged against his hip in protest. He straightened and aimed at the goal of his visit. “I need to borrow a gun.”
Before Dobson could respond, Lunden continued, not wishing to offer an opportunity to delve into his past. “An unlikely request, I know, but a friend has asked me to teach use of the weapon and I foolishly agreed. Now I’m bound by my word, but have no firearm in my possession. I thought to visit you rather than venture into town and spark unwelcome speculation as to why I need purchase a firearm.”
“I see.” Dobson took a long swallow from his glass. “You’ve come to the right man. I have a large collection of weapons, but I assume you mean to borrow a gentleman’s pistol. We can practice out back. Living here provides me the acreage to hone my skills before I venture abroad.” He stood and walked to the French doors that led to the back of the property. “It’s a perfect day for target practice, bright with just the right amount of cloud cover. We can begin at once.”
Startled by the man’s enthusiasm, Lunden rose and followed Dobson to the slate-covered terrace. That Dobson offered immediate acceptance and did not trouble him with an inquisition concerning his reasoning proved a tremendous relief. He only wished the earl hadn’t drained his glass so thoroughly before requesting the butler retrieve two weapons.
True to his word, Dobson spent the better part of the morning instructing him on the proper use of the flintlock pistol. Lunden was confident in his ability to teach Amelia the same. Why the willful chit desired to learn such outrageous behavior escaped him and he again attributed her desire to thrill-seeking rebellion. Without a doubt, Amelia was like no other woman he’d ever encountered. Whether that was a favorable attribute or not remained undetermined.
“That should do it. You’ve managed to hit the target in the center for ten straight shots. I’d say you’re a natural, but then . . .”
His words faded, although Lunden understood what the clumsy comment implied. He steeled himself and strove to keep his tone even. “My brother died from a broken neck incurred when he was thrown from his horse.” In a swift change of position, he turned toward the board and fired the last shot. It hit dead center. He busied himself with collecting the bag of ammunition, cleaning rag, and solvent, to avoid Dobson’s scrutiny.
“I never gave credence to the hearsay.” Dobson took care to return his pistol to the box. “Never mind then.”
A short pause followed while they reassembled the supplies.
“I leave for Ghana, Africa, on Thursday. You’re welcome to use this area to teach your associate. My butler will supply you with fresh targets and powder, as well as fetch the pistols when you’re ready. I’ll leave the key in his possession, although I grant the other servants holiday when I am out of the country, so there will be no other staff on hand.”
Lunden nodded and extended his hand forward. “I appreciate this, Dobson, and your discretion in the matter. I wish you luck in your travels.”
“And I’ll need it. I’m after the big one this time. Rhinoceros. Are you familiar?”
“Not at all.”
“Then you’ll have to visit again, if for no other reason than to see the horned beast in the middle of my drawing room.”
Chapter Eight
Amelia entered Matthew’s study with Pandora nestled in her arms. There were a number of items she wished to discuss with her brother and his absence from the town house of late caused her impatience. She strolled to where he stood hunched over his puzzle and lowered her arms. Pandora executed a graceful leap to the windowsill.
“Keep that infernal animal out of my study. Why can’t you do as you’re told, Troublemaker?” His mouth flattened to a thin line with the question.
“What a bore life would be if I obeyed all the rules.” Amelia eyed Pandora, stretched in a languid pose across her brother’s desk chair. She issued a silent prayer the cat didn’t choose to shred important papers or worse, the leather cushion. “I’ve needed to speak to you, but you’re hardly in the house these days.”
“I’m vying for the position of chief officer with the society. And of course, I have other obligations. I know from your point of view, I solve puzzles all day, but I assure you, I’m buried in work before you’re out for a morning walk with Charlotte.”
“I plan to visit Lakeview this Saturday and I invited Charlotte to accompany me, but her dreadful husband will not relent. Why is it, dear brother, that men find it their duty and purpose to lord over their wife? I cannot imagine a single reason why Dearing wouldn’t allow Charlotte to accompany me.”
“I can.” Matthew turned in her direction, a mocking smile on his face. “And as far as his decisions, his title dictates he lord it over her, although Dearing is one of the last men I would have thought a good match for Charlotte. Of course it must be considered her parents were in great financial debt. I suppose accepting a wife with no dowry and agreeing to alleviate the family’s money woes allows him latitude in his choice of behavior.” He fitted two pieces into the puzzle and stepped right to examine a particular section in the sunlight.
Amelia changed the subject. “Why is Lunden here?”
Matthew whipped his head up and shot her a fierce glare. “The matter does not concern you. And do not share his presence here with anyone. The whole world is aware of your proclivity for causing trouble and Lunden’s had more than his portion. You steer clear of him unless he finds a man for you to marry. In that case, we’ll hold a party in his honor.”
“That’s unkind of you.” She looked to him, her arms crossed over her chest and displeasure evident. “Is it so wrong for me to want a love match?”
“No, it’s not.”
This time her head shot up, confident she’d heard incorrectly, but her brother continued.
“Other factors are at play. Father’s health of course, your penchant to ignore every bit of ladylike advice offered in your direction and, of course, your unwillingness to consider a single suitor set in your path. Whatever this fear is—”
“I am not afraid.” It was a statement of fact.
“Whatever your hesitation”—Matthew gentled the words and angled to face her—“you will have to abandon it and realize marriage is part of your future. Mother and Father will not live forever, dear sister.”
His final words left her speechless. A rare occurrence indeed.
“But don’t despair. I may have a solution sooner than you think.”
She had no time to object as Lunden entered and the focus of her attention shifted. He looked terribly dashing. His thick hair appeared wind tousled and a shadow of whiskers darkened his chin. Amelia despised whiskers. Usually. Now she wondered how the scrape of his skin across her cheek would feel. Similar to Pandora’s tongue perhaps, but much more sensual, she suspected. An unexpected burst of goose bumps dotted her arms and she slid her palms up and down their lengths to soothe the sensation away.
“Ah, just the man I wanted to see. I’ve informed my sister I may have a candidate worthy of her attention.” No one could miss the brotherly teasing in his words.
“Things move at an unusually fast pace here.” Lunden walked farther into the room. “I’m afraid I’ve spent too much time in the country, or worse yet, will be restless when I make my return.” He swung his gaze to where Amelia lingered near the puzzle table. “Have we a name then?”
* * *
Something lurched to life inside him as he asked the question. Perhaps it was only desire to see his part of both bargains completed that caused the sudden unease, although his promise would become a moot point were Matthew to match Amelia off so easily. Still, he hadn’t gone through the trouble of shooting a pistol all morning if he wasn’t going to have the opportunity to teach the green-eyed vixen proper form.
“No. As usual, Matthew has not extended me the courtesy.” She skewered her brother with a forthright stare.
“Don’t be flippant. It’s unbecoming,” Matthew’s stern tone admonished as he sent a chiding look in her direction.
Most women would lower their chin. Amelia notched hers higher. For some unnamed reason, Lunden took pride in the small movement.
“I have business to attend across town so I must leave you both.” Matthew picked up his cane from where it leaned against his desk. “I’ll send Mary in.” He turned in Amelia’s direction. “Classes in deportment were a waste of Father’s money. You need to become more aware of propriety, most especially if I’m to find you a good match.” Then he nodded a good-bye and departed the room.
Lunden eyed Amelia during the entire exchange and noted the shadow of dismay clouding her crystal green eyes at the mention of marriage. In that, he understood. He had no wish to be married. Love, and any type of affection necessary for a successful relationship, represented the last thing he wanted in life. Considering the industrious effort put forth to make her a match, Amelia’s fate was sealed. Yet she admitted she could be happy if she married for love and not convenience. The odds were stacked against her. Pity that. He sided with her abject rejection of being manipulated. On some level, it mirrored his past.
“I’ve secured a location and the items needed for your second demand.”
Her features softened and a twinkle of mischief lit her eyes. Good. His words met the mark and he’d cheered her.
“Request,” she persisted, although an impish smile played on her lips. “When can we come together?”
His heartbeat stuttered at the question until he realized she inquired of the gun lesson, nothing more. Despite the clarity, his eyes roved over her from head to toe. She appeared so damned beautiful in clothes, what would she look like without? Something about Amelia conjured images of empresses and goddesses. Perhaps the defiant set of her shoulders or the line of her slim neck. But then, in a contradiction he’d come to expect, her untamed curls, mischievous eyes, and full ripe lips prompted thoughts far from gallantry, and instead plunged headfirst into naughty fantasy.
He made a concerted effort to pull his mind from that dark, forbidden place.
“Does Thursday afternoon suit you?” His voice went husky and a shot of desire quickened his pulse. He stalked to the fireplace to poke at the logs, uncomfortable with how easily Amelia provoked him on a visceral level.
“Yes. That’s perfect. Saturday I travel to Lakeview. Our bargain is moving far faster than I expected, but then so are my brother’s plans.”
Her eyes followed his every action and he stilled, entranced by her glittering green attention. With effort he replaced the poker and crossed the thick Oriental rug to where she stood near her brother’s desk. Mary showed up at the doorway and Amelia waved her away. When she turned in his direction, he cocked an eyebrow at her dismissal of the maid and her velvety laughter contradicted his condescending expression.
Delightful minx.
“In this, I’ll need your full instruction.” She whispered the words.
Lunden swallowed his immediate retort. Somehow they’d moved much closer, and although the double doors stood wide open as it was the middle of the day, an edgy tension thickened the air between them.
“I have confidence you’ll take well to the skill, provided you don’t point your weapon at my heart.” That organ withstood enough damage for a lifetime.
“I’m a fast learner.”
Her words were breathy, as if she feared the same thing she wanted, and the quality kicked his pulse another notch, despite it already thrummed in his veins. Their eyes locked as he moved closer, their bodies scant paces apart.
Why would a woman shun the idea of marriage and determinedly pursue how to fire a pistol? The intriguing quandary convinced him further, like he, she kept a silent secret locked away tight.
“I have no doubt.” He focused on her lips, held in a full pout. No one should possess such an irresistible quality. He took another step, obeying the insistent tug of desire, and her gaze faltered. Her eyes dipped to his mouth and back up again. “You know, learning how to ride or shoot a pistol won’t give you the control you seek.”
“I disagree.” She tipped her head and her eyes flared with willfulness. “Marriage leaves women with very few choices. My list ensures I have a sense of . . .”
“Security? Power?” His low-voiced questions seemed to cause her unease.
“Freedom. Choice.” Her voice caught on the last word. Color flared high on her cheeks.
She looked absolutely bewitching.
“A woman can have all the control if she acts wisely. A flirtatious glance, a subtle suggestion . . . women possess more power than they realize and yet they sublimate the control and lose all opportunity.”
Her lips parted as if she wished to object or agree. He would never know. For the span of several determined beats of his heart, they faced each other and time stilled. He watched the smile leave her eyes as laudable challenge took a firm hold.
The tip of her tongue poked out to lick over her enticing lips and desire was on him in a white hot rush of heat. How would she taste? As tart as her words or as sweet as temptation?
“Milady?”
The butler’s voice cooled his ardor; still with great reluctance Lunden slid his eyes toward the door in tandem with Amelia.
“Yes . . . Spencer.”
She answered in a remote voice and the perceptible pause between her words revealed more than the brief flash of emerald.
“What is it?”
Her normal tone seemed recouped. Lunden’s lips climbed to what others considered some semblance of a smile, but he fast schooled his features with a sharp exhale.
“Pardon the interruption. A note has been left at the door. I believe it is intended for the gentleman.”
Spencer turned in his direction and Lunden advanced to claim the message. No one knew of his arrival, save very few. Could it be Dobson with a change of plans concerning the firearms lesson? He broke the seal as Amelia dismissed the servant and returned to his side.
His eyes scanned the page and regret sunk its sharp claws into his soul. Sadness crawled over his heart with such heaviness, even the scent of jasmine and Amelia’s light touch to his arm could not permeate his despair.
“What is it?”
“If you will excuse me.” His voice sounded peculiar. Emotions. He could do without them all.
He hastened from the room, intent on his bedchamber, the note gripped in his fist, the foolscap already dampened from the sweat of his palm. He kicked the door closed, dropped into the armchair nearest the window, and focused on the twisted branches of an ash tree planted in the sparse side yard.
Hell and the devil, things were not proceeding as planned. Why would this stranger ask for a private meeting and implore Lunden withdraw his inquiries through bank and solicitor? His brother’s past was complicated enough without another roadblock to interfere with settling the matter once and for all. Worse, the letter held a dire tone. It stirred memories he’d chosen to bury under years of mundane living and blankets of regret. Painful memories.
He dropped his head to the cushion of the chair and closed his eyes. In sleep he could escape, surrender to the bleak despair that consumed him from the inside out. He’d find peace there, in the darkness, for at least a little while.
Chapter Nine
“So you see, Collins”—Whittingham employed his most decorous tone—“this will serve both our favors. I seek an e
xemplary husband for my sister, while you require a wife. The matter warrants little deliberation. It’s as simple as the monthly riddle at the society.” He strove to stifle an impatient note. Collins would never agree if he felt cajoled.
“It’s an unexpected and interesting proposition. Tell me more of your sister. Does she enjoy children? Know well how to manage a large household?” Collins drained his glass and leaned against the leather bolster in the dimly lit tavern. “I will have six younglings to raise once I relocate.” A bark of laughter escaped the older gentleman. “A duty better managed by a young wife.”
“Amelia loves children, I assure you.” An image of his sister and her bane of a pet flashed to mind. With a slight grimace, Matthew pressed on. “She has a vivacious spirit and likable disposition younglings find appealing.” He took a long swallow of ale and then another. He’d never seen his sister take an interest in children simply because there were none in the family as of yet, but that didn’t mean she would not enjoy their company. And he wanted a sterling endorsement. Best keep his mind on the prize.
“With all due respect, Whittingham, hasn’t your sister caused a stir with her antics? Did she not light someone on fire recently?”
Matthew buried a cough. “A terrible misunderstanding. It was my fault in truth. I bumped the epergne, but you understand how ugly rumors begin. Considering all being said about your hasty departure from the society, I surmise securing a new chief officer weighs heavily on your mind,” he finished in his gravest baritone.
“True, the matter needs to be resolved.” Collins drew a long breath. “If only the demands of the society were not so time consuming, I could retain my position.”
“But you’re relocating, aren’t you?” Matthew tempered his inquiry as idle curiosity, afraid to reveal he’d dug into the man’s personal business.
“Yes, it’s a condition of my inheritance although I’ll frequent London on occasion. I have no intent to leave off with my mistress just because my life is being turned inside out.” Collins eyed him with too-keen interest. “You’re vying for my position?”