A Heartless Design (29 page)

Cordelia wanted to reach out and comfort him, realizing her impulses toward him were exactly like that of a mother toward her child. “I am too old for you,” she said softly. “Nor can I help you move up in society, or secure a better life for the children you should have.”

“Sod all that! I know that you have been facing real trouble. I wanted to…save you.”

She smiled, despite the painful situation. “How can you do more for me than what you already have, helping me create Lear and working with me on the projects I so enjoy? Your friendship and trust have already saved me.”

He looked at her earnestly. “Truly?”

“Of course. I could not repay that by shackling you to an old maid with no prospects. You will find a bride that is a true match for you, I’m sure of it.”

Jay straightened up, mastering himself once more. “I note that you haven’t denied the essential fact. You are in danger.”

“No. I
was
in danger,” she said. “You—and yes, Lord Thorne as well, in his way—have helped me weather it. I am quite certain that the storm has passed and I will not have to worry anymore.”

“So my offer is as unnecessary as it is unwelcome.”

“Say rather undeserved. I could never use the word unwelcome in the same breath as your name.”

Jay didn’t respond for a long moment. Then, uncharacteristically, he bowed to her. “I do hope so, Miss Bering. Good day.”

Before she could stop him, Mr Jay left her and the house. Cordelia paced the room, her slippers shuffling over the carpet as she turned the conversation over and over in her mind.

She worried about the failed proposal. Had she encouraged Mr Jay to think of her in that way? In all their conversations, they had never spoken seriously of marriage. But then she berated herself for being naive. She was a woman, and he was a man! It was as simple as that.

Cordelia put her hands to her temples. No, what was she thinking, to ascribe such unworthy thoughts to Mr Jay? Of all men, he at least appreciated what she wanted to do with her life. He never suggested she stop working, and he had endorsed the Lear plan with relish, like it was a grand schoolboy prank. He was a true friend. If she had any sense, she would have accepted him.

But she could not. And it was all because of Sebastien. She had let him into her life, and her heart, and now she would suffer for it. Jay had asked if Thorne had proposed, which meant he was all too aware that their relationship wasn’t merely casual. And if Jay had noticed, surely others had as well. So she had to break it off…and soon. Or else she would lose everything.

* * * *

In a room far away from the one in which Cordelia paced, the designs that had caused all her present troubles were currently laid out on a large, dark oak table. An unusual collection of objects held down the corners of the pages, which threatened to curl up if anyone so much as glanced at them wrong. A smooth granite stone, an ivory figurine of a Chinese beauty (holding an ivory fan demurely in front of her face), a heavy brass candlestick (sans candle), and even a fresh pineapple had been called into service. Finally pinned down, the papers could now be examined at leisure.

“Something is still missing.” The conclusion, voiced in French, sounded matter of fact, even resigned. “These are wrong.”

“There are no more papers to be found,” another voice said, apologetically. It was Hayden. “I know she burned some things. The lad confirmed it…he lit the fire. Perhaps the secret is lost.”

“No!” The calm was over, the storm was back. The other man at the table stood up, sweeping one hand across the desk. He struck the brass candlestick and it went flying, hitting a chair several feet away. “I have spent far too much money to give up now. Bering said it could be done, all those years ago. He would not have lied! I know it can be built.”

“But he’s dead, and if she destroyed the stuff…”

“I’ll break her neck if she did! That minx of a woman, with her sharp-eyed servants and lucky cats! She never even knew what she had, yet every plan I made was thwarted…”

Hayden shrugged. “Cut your losses, then. Sell the metal to someone else. Start over with something else.”

“No,” the white-haired man snarled. “I want the
Andraste
. I want a flotilla of
Andrastes
, ready for battle by the end of the year!”

“But it can’t be done. If Alfred Bering were still alive, we could force the answer out of him. But his old papers are all that’s left.”

“Old papers,” the other echoed. He suddenly looked at the paper itself. “Old? You say these are what the servant sold you. And he stole them from the Bering woman, after she burned everything else?”

“Everything but these, yes.”

The white-haired man’s eyes glittered. “
Look.
If her father made these, they would not look so fresh! Look at this paper! Pristine! The ink is barely dry.”

“The other one, then. Lear.”

“If the hermit Lear made them, they would never have been in Miss Bering’s possession! Unless…”

“What is it?”

The other man seethed for a long moment, then slowly smiled. “Of course. I wish to meet Miss Bering. Bring her here, Hayden.”

“She won’t come.”

“Don’t
ask
her.” The white-haired man’s grin was cruel now.

Hayden grew a slow smile to match the other man’s. “I see. Bring the Bering bitch to you? Of course, sir.” He narrowed his eyes. “But it will cost you.”

“Imagine the cost if you fail, Hayden,” the other man said in a mild tone.

“I meant the cost of the…operation,” Hayden added quickly, swallowing nervously. “I’ll take care of it. But I’ll need to pay for a ship, and bribes for the crew, not to mention a new place to stay in London. Once I have her, where do you want me to bring her? Straight here?”

“No. Let her see the
Andraste
first. Ask her how to complete the ship. And if she refuses, bring her back here, where she’ll be well looked after.” The older man smiled, unnerving even Hayden. “I look forward to meeting this lady.”

This was the last time
, Cordelia vowed. She took stock of herself in the mirror. The dark green dress set off her skin, and Bond worked her usual magic to arrange Cordelia’s black hair into a style worthy of an ancient Greek maiden. But to her own eyes, her face looked ashen, her lips pinched. She could not continue like this.

Since meeting Sebastien Thorne, she swept from fear to bliss and back, over and over. He was by far the most fascinating man—in fact, the most fascinating person—she had ever known. But his life was so unlike hers that there was simply no possibility of sharing it.

He had sent word via Jem that he had news for her, and that he knew she was attending the Rampling ball—one of the final balls of the Season, and thus it would be a well-attended crush.

With luck, he’d know if Hayden left London, and perhaps where he had gone. If so, Cordelia intended to thank Sebastien for everything he’d done for her, and then to break off their affair. The whole exchange might take the span of a dance. And then it would be over.

Unless he didn’t agree.

Cordelia shoved that thought aside. Sebastien would surely understand. He knew even better than Cordelia that his life had no place for her. In fact, he might be secretly grateful.

At the ball, she wandered among the crowd, wondering if he would find her at all. She need not have worried. A touch on her arm, and there he was. “Lord Thorne,” she murmured, her heart lifting as soon as she saw him.

“My dear Miss Bering,” he returned, with aristocratic cool. “Do you want the latest news?”

“What news is that?” she asked, excitement building in her. One thing to be said for espionage, it was far more exciting than her usual life. She would miss the intrigue when it was over. She would miss Sebastien more.

His mask slipped a bit. He said in a low tone, “Come with me. I can’t tell you here.”

She didn’t have to be convinced.

He found a quiet room on an upper floor. Once inside, he swiftly turned the key in the lock and yanked it out.

Cordelia waited anxiously for the news. “Well?”

He started pacing. “He’s been sighted. Hayden boarded a ship bound for France a few days ago. He’ll either meet with his employer, or try to sell the plans on his own there.”

She sighed in relief. “He did believe Jem, then. He won’t want to get anything else from me. He thinks he has it all. Wherever he went, whoever ends up with it, they’ll spend months trying to work it out.”

“And spending money all the while,” he added smugly. “Money Bonaparte would surely like to spend elsewhere. This is the best outcome we could hope for. The ship designs will confound them, and when they give up, they’ll seek out Lear to discover the flaw. As soon as you get that request, just hand the information to me and I’ll take steps.” He smiled, pleased with the plan. He paced back toward her.

“Of course I’ll get word to you as soon as that happens. But Sebastien…” Cordelia was about to launch into her carefully rehearsed explanation for why they must no longer associate.

Before she could, he cupped her chin in his hand and turned her face toward him. “I have to tell you. I like your courage, Cor.”

“My courage?”

“Yes. You’ve handled this whole endeavor with the bravery of a soldier and the grace of a princess. Of course, your courage isn’t the only thing I like about you.”

He kissed her swiftly, even aggressively, breaking down her defenses within a breath. Cordelia reached for him even as she shook her head. “You may do this all the time, but I cannot!” she whispered, but then kissed him back as if her life depended on it.

“I never do this,” he protested. “I’ve never lost my mind like this until I met you.” He backed her against the wall. “Gather up your skirt,” he begged in an undertone.

“Here? Standing up?” she asked, astonished and suddenly very curious.

“I can’t wait,” he hissed. He watched her eyes darken, and her breathing quicken. “Neither can you.”

She was nearly mindless with desire for him, but Cordelia tried once more to delay the inevitable. “Sebastien, this is wrong.”

“Being with you is the only thing in my life that feels right, Cor. You were made for me. Please. Be with me.” 

Was he admitting that he wanted something from her simply because it made him happy? The way he was touching her seemed to prove it, because every little move turned her skin to fire. She kissed him back, no longer caring whether it was right or wrong.

She pulled up the skirts of her gown, and felt his hands on her skin. Then he was inside her. Cordelia sighed when she felt him, and before she knew what she was saying, she heard herself begging him to continue, to devastate her.

He was all too eager to oblige, and Cordelia came undone in that scandalous pose. His own climax followed instantly. The pair sank slowly to the floor, recovering.

Sebastien reached out, tipping her face to his. “Believe me, I didn’t intend this when we came into this room, sweetheart.”

“I told you to,” she whispered, her breathing still uneven.

He kissed her tenderly, and Cordelia nearly died as she lost herself in the feeling of that kiss, so gentle after their desperate, almost violent lovemaking. “I’ve never met anyone like you, darling,” he said, his lips still touching her own.

“I…I won’t forget you,” she said, her voice cracking.

He pulled away, staring at her in consternation. “What?”

“Sebastien, don’t pretend you don’t understand. This can’t continue. It just can’t.”

“I would never do anything to hurt you.” 

“It’s not what you would do…” She sighed, then moved to stand up. “I have to go. I have to go home.”

“I’ll escort you,” he said quickly, also standing.

“I think not,” she retorted. “I’m having enough trouble maintaining my reputation as it is.”

“Has someone said something to you?” he demanded.

“Nothing direct. I’ve avoided that so far, and I would like to continue avoiding it.” She looked at him steadily. “We must not see each other again.” It pained her to say the words, but she knew it was right. Besides, she was not meant to be part of his life.

“You’re worrying over nothing,” he countered, his dark eyes inscrutable.

“Perhaps it is nothing to you. After all, what harm will fall upon you if our affair became known? Whereas I would be shut out of society without another thought. I am not quite ready to be exiled.” She managed to put her appearance in some semblance of order. She hoped she didn’t look like she felt, a ravished woman.

“It would never come to that,” he said. “Marriage would answer all that.”

“Oh, a proposal to stave off the scandal? How very touching,” Cordelia said, no longer looking at him.

“That’s not why I would marry you.”

“Be rational. You met me by chance. Now that the plans are taken care of, you will have new things to worry about. You won’t have time for me, even if you might have an inclination for me.”

“An
inclination
for you?” he repeated, incredulous. “Cordelia, you don’t understand.”

She did not want to understand. “I should tell you that I intend to leave London very shortly. I’m going to spend the summer in Bristol. My absence from the city should dampen any possible rumors. And I trust that you will never speak of me to remind anyone. You would never do such a thing, I know.”

“There’s another way,” he protested.

“I don’t see how. You already live two lives. Do you have room for yet another?” She walked to the table, looking back at him. “I promise I’ll get word to you if Lear is asked about the
Andraste
.”

“I will not allow that!”

“You can’t prevent it, my dearest. The best solution is the one I’ve just proposed—we must end this. Now.” She seized the key off the table and walked to the door. “Goodbye, Sebastien.” She said his given name tenderly, cherishing her last opportunity to do so.

Before he could reach the door and stop her, Cordelia darted out into the hallway. He’d never run her down when there were other people present, so she kept hurrying toward the ballroom, where she would be surrounded by people. She did not dare glance behind her, so she didn’t know if he even tried to follow her. Soon enough, she arrived in the front hall, where a footman saw her.