A Heartless Design (15 page)

“I prefer to use other methods to get what I want.”

Sighing, Cordelia sat back, but then winced.

Sebastien saw the pain in her eyes. Without waiting for permission, he moved across the carriage so that he sat next to Cordelia. “Turn around. Let me see. He must have done more than simply tear your dress.”

“That’s not necessary…” She blushed at his proximity.

“It is,” he insisted.

Cordelia half turned away from him, allowing him to look at her back again. Her hand drifted to where the pain was worst, but he caught it in his own, stopping her.

“Don’t touch,” he warned.

Cordelia waited, one hand in his, while his other probed her back gently through the fine fabric. “Well?” she asked.

“Be patient, I’m looking. Does it hurt here?” He barely touched a spot near her spine, low on her back.

“Yes,” she hissed, surprised at the pain. His hand tightened around hers.

“There’s a little blood.” Sebastien shifted, and Cordelia felt him press something against her back, over the cut.

“What are you doing?” she asked, trying to look over her shoulder.

“I only have a handkerchief, but it will have to do until you get home.” 

“Oh.” Now that the cut was covered, she let both hands settle in her lap, wondering what a proper lady would do in this situation. Oh, yes. A proper lady would never, ever permit herself to get into such a situation. The fact that his hand rested there, inches north of her bottom, made it virtually impossible for her to think clearly. “I can hold it there myself,” she said.

“I like to be useful.” He delivered his refusal in such a deadpan tone that she had to laugh.

Sebastien took the opportunity to settle her against his side, a pose that she would never allow if she were not so preoccupied. “Just sit quietly,” he advised. “It’s not a long ride.”

Cordelia tried to sit quietly, but it was difficult to relax when Sebastien was sitting next to her with his arm around her body. The seriousness of the situation suddenly became very clear. Someone broke into her house, then someone threatened her life, and now she had put her life and reputation in the hands of a man she barely knew.

“Lord Thorne—” Cordelia looked over at him and was caught by his eyes, dark and sensual in the half-light.

He was looking at her neck.

“What is it?” she asked. “I’m not bleeding there, too, am I? It only stings…”

Before she could go on, he bent his head to kiss her throat. Cordelia breathed in when his mouth touched her skin. This kiss was far more intimate than the ones he’d given her before. Her heart started hammering in her chest. His mouth lingered on her neck, moving slowly down along the very line that the knife had traced earlier.

Reveling in the sensation, she didn’t tell him to stop. Heat seemed to rise off her skin. He reached the hollow at the base of her throat, and Cordelia murmured a warning when his tongue flicked out and tasted her there.

At the sound, he paused long enough to catch his own breath and, she realized, to listen if she would say something he wanted to hear. She didn’t even have the words to ask for what she might want. Before she could say anything she would regret, he pulled back.

He smiled then, completely disarming her. “Does it still sting?”

“No,” she breathed.

“Good. I do like to make myself useful.”

“Useful,” she echoed. Then she frowned. “Is that why you are so interested in my father’s work?” she asked, recalling the matter at hand.

“It’s not the only thing I’m interested in, Miss Bering. But if I’m to get the plans back for you, I need to know everything I can about the
Andraste
designs. Do you know anything about them?”

“Of course! That is…yes, a little.” Cordelia reverted to the image of a dutiful daughter, only slightly aware of her father’s genius. “What do you need to know?”

“Everything you can tell me, and probably more.” He looked concerned. “Yet I can’t keep you out all night…appealing as that notion is.”

“You must not call at my home again,” she warned him. “It would be far too difficult to explain your continued presence.”

He was aware of her predicament. “Then what do you suggest, Miss Bering?”

She considered the issue for a long moment. Finally, she hit on an idea. “Can you be at the East India Docks at two o’ clock tomorrow? If you walk to the quay where the packet ships dock, I will find you there and we can talk, with no one to overhear.”

“You can’t go there alone,” he objected.

Cordelia shook her head. “I won’t be. I shall have a chaperone. Not Aunt Leona, of course. Don’t worry, I know how to conduct myself in public.”

“That sounds like a bit of a censure toward me.”

She glanced at him. “And why not? I already have some idea of how you conduct yourself in private.”

“Miss Bering, you have no idea how I conduct myself in private,” he said, with a slow smile that threatened to unhinge her.

At that moment the carriage pulled up the drive to her home. She sighed in relief. Sebastien leaned over her.

“What?” Cordelia asked.

He said nothing, but lowered his mouth to hers once more. Cordelia didn’t even think to protest. The kiss was brief, but she was still a bit shaken at the end of it. “Why did you do that? Not to make yourself useful this time, and not for luck.”

“I don’t know if you’re good luck or bad luck, Miss Bering,” he said, looking at her intently. “But I do know that you fascinate me.”

He moved away from her then, before she could make a fool of herself. “Are you strong enough to walk up your steps?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Then forgive me for not helping you out this time. I’d think you’d prefer me to remain as unobtrusive as possible.”

“I’m grateful for your discretion.”

“See? I can be a gentleman…sometimes.” He touched her hand. “Have one of your people care for those cuts immediately.”

“I will.” She climbed out the carriage, keeping her head down so the driver wouldn’t see her face if he happened to be looking. “Tomorrow at two,” she reminded him.

“I’ll be there.” 

Cordelia hurried into the house as the carriage rolled away behind her. Jem was playing footman tonight, and she merely gave him a pleading look when he saw a hired carriage leaving the scene.

“Anything we should know, my lady?” he asked bluntly.

“Yes,” she replied. “You will be driving Bond and me to the harbor tomorrow afternoon. No questions and no comments.”

“Yes, my lady,” he said. He shut the door behind her, bolting it securely.

“Oh, and send Bond up to my room as soon as possible, with some clean cloths and alcohol. Someone tried to stab me earlier tonight.”

A part of her truly enjoyed Jem’s stunned expression as she said it.

Upstairs, she caused a certain amount of trouble for her maid as well.

“Oh, my lady!” Bond wailed. “What did you
do
? I don’t know if I can save these shoes!” The young woman showed far more distress over the state of Cordelia’s evening wear than she had over the knife wound, which Cordelia took as a good sign.

“Try your best. If they can’t be saved, then give them to Ivy. We’re of a size, and the shoes will still keep feet dry.”

“I shall
endeavor
, my lady.” Bond grimaced. Then she put the shoes down and turned her attention back to her mistress. “Are you quite comfortable?”

“I’m well enough.” 

Bond had already cleaned the wound and bandaged it well, assuring Cordelia that it was minor. “And I can sew the dress as good as new. But that’s not the half of it! You were attacked, my lady.”

“Fortunately, I was rescued.”

“By that
man
. The one in the house yesterday.”

“Lord Thorne, yes.” Cordelia paused. “I am very grateful to him, in fact. He not only saved my life, he saved my reputation as well.”

“Let’s hope he doesn’t hold it over you,” the maid groused.

“I don’t think he would. A gentleman wouldn’t do such a thing.” Cordelia considered the possibility that Sebastien Thorne might use his knowledge against her. If he wanted to, he could easily blackmail her…for the portion of the
Andraste
designs still in her possession, for example. Was that the real reason for his kisses and sudden attention?

Bond, meanwhile, was unaware of her turn of thought. “You don’t know much of men, begging your pardon.”

“You don’t trust Thorne?”

“Does a lamb trust a wolf?”

Despite herself, Cordelia smiled at her maid’s characterization. “To tell the truth, I know there’s something about him that doesn’t add up. So it’s just as well that you’ll accompany me when I happen to run into him tomorrow at the harbor.”

“Well indeed,” Bond huffed. “I’ll not let you out of my sight.”

The maid settled Cordelia into her bed, then turned down the light and closed the door.

However, sleep was the furthest thing from Cordelia’s mind. She relived nearly every moment of the evening, from the terror of discovering Hayden’s treachery to the moment when Sebastien kissed her nearly senseless in the darkened coach. She closed her eyes, remembering the feel of his lips on her skin.

It had been a daring, scandalous, and perhaps insulting thing to do. What kind of woman did he take her for? Then she admitted to herself that she had certainly given him plenty of leave. Really, it was wanton. And yet, she loved the feelings he’d stirred in her. She knew that she would let him kiss her again. She might let him do more than kiss her. Being still unmarried at her age left her quite curious about some things. When she finally drifted off, her dreams were filled with images of Sebastien Thorne, a man she didn’t yet understand, but couldn’t ignore.

Privately, Cordelia had doubts about
the wisdom of meeting Sebastien at the harbor. But she didn’t see any alternatives. She could not let him keep coming into her home, whether he claimed to be visiting Leona Wharton or not! Furthermore, she didn’t want her aunt to learn too much of her own activities surrounding shipbuilding. The less Leona knew, the less danger to her.

Cordelia admitted to herself that she had rather taken advantage of her aunt’s trust over the years. She had told her nothing of her secret work as Lear, for instance. And Leona was blissfully ignorant of the servants’ rather shady pasts.

So Cordelia couldn’t risk Sebastien getting further involved in her household. She also couldn’t risk any gossip about them circulating about the
ton
. His first visit she could explain away by mentioning his connection to Aunt Leona. More than that and he’d have to be courting her, which was outside the realm of plausibility. The newest Earl of Thornbury must select a young and wealthy bride. She was neither. For him to pretend that she was a tenable candidate for countess was laughable.

Nevertheless, she spent a good deal of time dressing for the meeting with Sebastien. Bond endured three costume changes and her mistress’s doubts as to her hairstyle. “You must pull it back, ma’am,” she said finally. “That raven hair is a beacon, even under a hat. Not to mention the wind!” The maid expertly twisted Cordelia’s hair into a low knot and secured the style with several pins. “There now. You will not blow apart in a breeze.”

Dressed in a pale cream walking gown covered with a green pelisse, Cordelia finally descended the stairs.

“Will you be out long, my lady?” Stiles asked. He, of course, had been apprised of the events of last night.

“A few hours at most, Stiles,” she assured him.

“Just as long as it takes to get that lord off our backs,” Bond added.

The butler glared at her. “Mind your tongue, Bond. A servant does not speak of her betters in that fashion.”

Cordelia intervened. “She’s not wrong, Stiles. Once Lord Thorne is satisfied, our household will return to normal.”

“I pray that’s the case, my lady.” He opened the door for them and shook a warning finger at Bond as she followed Cordelia out.

Jem drove toward the harbor. Bond, dressed in one of Cordelia’s old morning gowns, sat next to her mistress. She was playing the role of chaperone, and she looked the part. Despite her humble origins, Bond’s height and fine features gave her the air of a lady, and she had used her recent weeks of gainful employment to study and imitate her mistress; she could mimic tones and gestures with uncanny accuracy.

Of course, Bond wasn’t
all
lady. She took her duty seriously enough that she concealed a knife on her person. “He may be a lord or whatever, but if he so much as touches you, my lady, I’ll gut ’im like a fish.”

“Bond, that is not how ladies’ maids talk!”

“Aye, but I’m a very special lady’s maid, ain’t I?” Bond said, deliberately reverting to her natural accent.

Giving up on lecturing, Cordelia smiled back. “Yes, I would say you are.”

* * * *

Cordelia wasn’t the only person feeling dubious about the meeting. Thorne couldn’t stop debating in his own brain whether or not Miss Bering could be trusted. Despite Forester’s theory, he could tell she was truly distressed about the theft, just as she had been surprised by Hayden’s actions the night before. But there were many aspects that didn’t add up.

He reviewed all the intelligence he’d gathered and put it together. Miss Bering was a spinster, but she had no difficulty funding her home and maintaining an uncommonly large staff of uncommonly conscientious servants. She had to get that money from somewhere. The easy answer was that she was selling something of value…and what else would that be but the work of her late father?

He didn’t want to think of her as a traitor. In fact, he was uncomfortably aware that he wanted to act as her protector…when he didn’t want to seduce her for the pure excitement of it.

His musings were cut short by more urgent matters. His sister Adele cornered him at the breakfast table and asked him several uncomfortable questions regarding his activities the previous few nights. Though far younger than him, she showed a remarkable maturity so far…and very little deference to him. He was short with her, partly because he was feeling so conflicted about his plans for Miss Bering.