Leslie Lafoy (10 page)

She glanced over her shoulder to see him appraising the girls’ clothing from shoulder to hem. “They’re growing,” she explained. “And there hasn’t been any money for new clothing. We’ve made do by letting out or taking up seams and hems as necessity dictated. Keeping them in shoes that fit their feet has been the greatest of the challenges. Try as I might, I can’t make shoes.”

“You actually tried?”

His amusement was obvious. She thought she heard a bit of respect and perhaps even a smidgen of awe, too. Pleased, she smiled up at him as she stepped back to allow the girls to move through the doorway. “Of course. Had I been successful, it would have been an accomplishment I could have bragged about for the rest of my life. Can you make shoes?”

“I have absolutely no idea,” he laughingly admitted.

It was the most inexplicable impulse that had ever struck her. One moment she’d been standing there, mindful only of providing an explanation for the girls being pathetically dressed, and in the next she was thinking that it would be perfectly right and wonderful to step forward and kiss Carden Reeves. Good God, what had happened? And why was the impulse not fading?

Her heart, instantly jolted, was racing, making it difficult to breathe and sending a wave of heat fanning across her cheeks. At the edge of her awareness she saw the girls pass between her and … Their uncle
knew
what she was thinking, feeling. His eyes were bright with appreciation and his smile was ever so soft and inviting.
Go ahead, Sera,
it said wordlessly,
kiss me. I’ll kiss you back. You’ll enjoy it.

Yes, I would. And so would you.

He slowly cocked a brow, stopping Sera’s heart and painfully catching what little breath she had left in her lungs.

“Miss Sera?”

She tore her gaze from Carden Reeves’s and weakly but gratefully smiled down at Beatrice. “Yes, dear?”

“I pulled my stocking down so that the hole doesn’t show.”

Her heart was beating again and she was able to draw a full, calming breath. “Very good thinking, Bea. I’ll darn it after dinner.”

“You’ll go to the dressmaker’s first thing tomorrow morning. All of you.”

Imperious. So blessedly, typically Carden Reeves, lord of his manor and all that he surveyed. “As you wish, Mr. Reeves,” Seraphina replied, utterly relieved to have been returned to the safety of ordinary ground.

“Carden. And I’ll accompany you there.”

“You’re familiar with the particulars of selecting ladies’ wardrobes?” she asked, willingly playing her part in the charade.

His eyes sparkled devilishly. “Actually, I’m quite good at it.”

“I should have guessed.”

She took his offered arm without thinking, only in doing so realizing that touching him had become something not only comfortable to do, but enjoyable. Considering that she’d been in this house less than half a day … Part of her was fascinated by the speed and ease with which she was allowing the distance between them to close. Another part of her was shamed by what that implied about the strength of her moral fiber.

What, precisely, she wanted to do about it was difficult to decide, though. Especially as they made their way down the hall toward the stairs. The warmth of him next to her, the slight, easy friction of their bodies as they moved together, the woodsy scent of his shaving cologne, the sense of being sheltered and protected … It had been a very long time since she’d been this physically close to a man. And even then it had never been an experience as thoroughly pleasant as this. Yes, being with Carden Reeves wasn’t at all like being with Gerald Treadwell.

Physically, there was no point in denying that he was wondrously exciting.

Emotionally … She slid a glance over at him and caught the inside of her lower lip between her teeth. Carden Reeves was a man who specialized in casually shattering illusions and breaking hearts. In that respect, he was just like Gerald had been.

Forewarned is forearmed,
she told herself as they made their way down the stairs, the girls following behind them like little ducks.

C
HAPTER
6

There was something about Honoria … Seraphina stood beside the blazing hearth, trying to get warm as she considered the tiny woman holding court from her place on the parlor settee. She couldn’t recall exactly how Carden had described his sister-in-law, but she knew that she’d been left with the impression that Honoria Reeves was something of a good-natured bit of feminine fluff.

On the surface of things, it seemed a fairly accurate depiction. Honoria was silver haired, very small boned and so short that in another year or two Amanda would tower over her. And Honoria was indeed very kindly engaging her nieces in spirited conversation, inquiring after their interests and talents and promising to share with them every wonder to be had in all of the British Isles. The girls were, while not physically wrapped around her fingers, completely hers as they sat at her feet and looked up at her in rapt, openmouthed attention. Honoria was obviously enjoying herself. So were the girls.

And yet … Seraphina had the strongest, strangest feeling that Honoria was far more substantive than she appeared. Why she felt that way, she couldn’t fathom, though. Neither could she explain to herself why she felt slightly menaced by it. Carden had brought them all into the room and handled the introductions in what had seemed to be perfect accordance with upper-class social protocol. At least as she understood upper-class protocol. They’d definitely been interminable and very formal. Honoria had smiled when she was supposed to. She’d smiled when it was her turn. They had both exchanged the customary, expected greetings without the slightest stumble or falter. And then Honoria had turned her attention to her nieces and become the epitome of the elderly, doting aunt.

The woman had done absolutely nothing to account for the wariness that swirled around in Sera’s stomach like a school of mullet. Absolutely nothing. And yet the feeling wouldn’t go away. Carden stood on the other side of the hearth, his hands in his trouser pockets, watching Honoria and the girls. He seemed a bit tense, his smile just a little too controlled, but she couldn’t attribute it to anything other than his concern that the girls might tell Honoria that they were orphans.

Puzzle it from all directions as she might, Seraphina still couldn’t understand why she was reacting to the older woman the way she was. It was most odd. And because it was inexplicable, it was disconcerting. She kept her distance, quietly watching, hoping to come to some sort of understanding—no matter how vague.

The bell rang at the front of the house. The last notes were still reverberating as Sera saw Sawyer pass across the open door of the parlor on his way to answer it.

“The last of our dinner party has arrived,” Carden said softly as he walked past her. “It’ll get livelier from here. I promise.”

She didn’t have a chance to respond. She watched him stride out into the foyer and greet the two men Sawyer was divesting of canes, hats, scarves, gloves, and coats. One man she instantly recognized as Aiden Terrell. The other she presumed to be the friend who held Carden’s library in such disdain.

Barrett, she recalled. He was slightly taller than Aiden, coming closer to matching Carden in that respect and in age. The three of them together were an impressive assembly of male physique. They all had broad shoulders, narrow hips, and long legs. And they were all breathtakingly, classically handsome.

Carden and Barrett looked quite similar in coloring: dark haired and dark eyed. Barrett didn’t have the distinguished strands of silver at his temples that Carden did, though. His misfortune, Sera thought with a small smile. Other than that, they could have been easily mistaken for brothers.

Aiden on the other hand … As people were wont to do, they would likely assume that Carden and Barrett favored their father while John Aiden was the male image of their mother. Sera smiled. Or perhaps the rogue Irish cousin sent to be tutored in the British Way. There was something a bit unbridled about Aiden Terrell. In all likelihood it was a consequence of his youth, but she liked him for it and was glad that he’d come to dinner. He was easy to talk to and could so ably charm and entertain the girls.

Which, now that she thought about it, explained why he seemed to fit so well with Carden and Barrett despite the age and appearance differences. Charming females was charming females. Age didn’t really matter. The three men advancing into the parlor were all clearly cut from the same fine bolt of masculine cloth. What Aiden was learning at the knees of Carden Reeves …

And from his friend Barrett, Sera mentally amended as the man met her gaze. His regard wasn’t bold, but it was open and honest and quietly appreciative of what he saw. Clearly, he was an experienced rake, too. The smile he gave her in acknowledgment was eloquent, wordlessly telling her that he was a man who abided by well-defined rules and that for the time being, where she was concerned, he was willing to be the second of Carden Reeves. But should Carden choose to remove himself …

As direct as it was, his manner wasn’t the least bit threatening. Quite to the contrary, she decided, after a moment’s reflection. Something about him suggested that he would be a most respectful, considerate champion should she ever need one. Rather like the older brother she had often fantasized about having when she’d been a little girl.

“Honoria,” she heard Carden say, “may I present my friends, Mr. Barrett Stanbridge and Mr. John Aiden Terrell. Gentlemen, my late brother’s wife, Honoria Reeves, the Lady Lansdown.”

“A very real pleasure, madam,” Barrett said, bowing over Honoria’s hand. She lowered her chin in silent, regal response.

Aiden immediately stepped into Barrett’s place and also bent down, saying, “It’s an honor to make your acquaintance, Lady Lansdown.” Again Honoria played the Queen.

And then the three men turned to her. “Seraphina,” Carden began, his manner considerably easier than it had been when addressing his sister-in-law, “you of course met Aiden earlier today.”

“It stands as one of the best parts of my day,” she replied, extending her hand for him to take. “I’m glad you could join us for dinner, Mr. Terrell.”

“Wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” he countered. “And please call me Aiden.”

She nodded her acceptance of the request even as Carden frowned and continued with the introductions. “And this is Mr. Barrett Stanbridge, formerly of Her Majesty’s Royal Engineers and now an aspiring private investigator. Barrett, I present Seraphina Treadwell, my nieces’ companion.”

His smile was warm and genuine. Friendly. “A distinct pleasure, madam.”

“Which is all mine, sir,” Sera dutifully replied. She intended to also thank him for joining them for dinner, but didn’t get a chance.

Carden took his friend by the elbow and physically drew him away, saying, “Aiden’s already met the girls. Let me introduce you to them, Barrett.”

The process continued and they all politely waited through it. Halfway along, Sawyer arrived with a tray of various drinks and silently made the rounds of the room. And when the civilities were at long last concluded, Honoria sat regally on the settee, the girls sat at her feet, and the rest of them stood along the edges of the room holding their glasses and waiting for someone to say something conversational. It was Honoria who sailed mercifully, if imperiously, into the breach.

“I detect a slight foreign sound to your English, Mr. Terrell.”

“I’m from St. Kitts. In the Caribbean.”

“Oh? And what brings you to London?”

“My family owns a shipping line. I’m in England to take delivery of an overdue ship out of the yards at Bristol. But since there’s nothing for me to do there, I’m twiddling my thumbs in London while I wait.”

“And how did you make the acquaintance of Carden?”

The tone and pacing of Honoria’s questions struck Sera as being a bit inquisitional but Aiden didn’t seem to mind. Ever affable, he answered, “We met at his club, where, every night for a full two weeks, he routinely plastered me at cards. We eventually reached a point where my friendship was the only thing I had left to offer him.”

Carden chuckled. “Which is turning out to be one of my more interesting winnings in the last year.”

Honoria shot him a disapproving look—whether for the gambling or for having interrupted her interrogation, Sera couldn’t say.

“And you, Mr. Stanbridge?” Honoria went on, very deliberately putting a smile on her face and turning her attention to Carden’s other friend. “How did you meet my brother-in-law?”

“We were garrisoned together in the Transvaal for almost three years.”

Honoria frowned momentarily and then brightened. “Didn’t I hear somewhere that Lord Wickerly’s third son is also garrisoned there?”

“It’s his fourth son, Harry,” Carden corrected coolly.

Barrett nodded. “And Harry is a blight on humanity.”

“Then that particular apple didn’t fall far from the tree,” Honoria observed breezily. “His mother is a saint, you know. Endures her husband in absolute silence. I don’t know how she does it.”

“It’s a shame she didn’t raise her voice just once,” Barrett quipped, a noticeably sharp edge to his voice. “She might have spared the world Harry. It would definitely be a better place without him.”

Honoria blinked and found another smile. “What was it that you did for Her Majesty in the Transvaal, Mr. Stanbridge?”

“Primarily we built railroads. Carden’s a trestle wizard, you know.”

“Really.”

Sera silently, instinctively bristled. Engineering certainly wasn’t her forte but if one specialist claimed that another was brilliant at it, far be it from her to question the assertion. But the fact that Honoria felt free to do so bothered her and deepened her sense of wariness. It seemed to bother Carden, as well. His polite smile was brittle as he stared at the curtains behind his sister-in-law’s shoulder.

“There was no span too big,” Barrett explained. “No sand too shifting, no rock too hard to deter the bridges of Captain Carden Reeves.”

“No river was too deep or too fast, either,” Aiden tossed in brightly. “No natives too hostile.”