Leslie Lafoy (12 page)

“You are, indeed. And sewing is only one of your many talents. Thank you, Amanda.”

Amanda beamed and Carden Reeves nodded, his smile appreciative. The girls then said their good-nights, graciously accepted the offered wishes for pleasant dreams, and departed. And when they were gone, Sera reached for her wine glass, knowing from Honoria’s arched brow that she was going to need the fortification.

C
HAPTER
7

Seraphina had a vague sense of moving her feet but that was all the conscious effort she could contribute to moving into the parlor with Honoria. She was so very tired and the wine, rather than strengthening her, had instead wrapped her in a wonderfully comfortable warmth that invited her to sit down, close her eyes, and drift off into dreamless sleep. And motionless sleep, she realized with a faint smile. It had been months since the bed under her hadn’t rocked on the waves.

Honoria settled herself on the settee and folded her hands in her lap with an expectant air. Sera paused in the center of the room, her mind stumbling along the course of trying to guess what the woman wanted.

“Sherry, dear.”

“Thank you, Lady Lansdown,” Sera replied with a small shake of her head. The motion did little to revitalize her but it did provide a momentary clarity that allowed her to cross to the sideboard and pour them both a small glass of sweet sherry.

Honoria accepted hers, saying breezily, “You really mustn’t make a habit of complimenting children excessively, Seraphina. It’s not good for them to think too highly of themselves. It makes it difficult to manage them.”

She was too tired to put up a truly spirited defense, too tired to work at evading a conflict. “I happen to think otherwise, Lady Lansdown,” Sera countered quietly, settling into the opposite settee. “Children deserve to be praised for what they can do right and well. I believe recognition and respect serves to inspire them to not only do better, but to be better people.”

“Oh? And do Arthur and Mary subscribe to the same views of childrearing?”

Of course they had. They’d been the ones to impart them to her. “Do you think they would have entrusted me with their children if they didn’t?”

“Actually,” Honoria replied, pausing to sip her drink, “despite Carden’s explanations, I think Arthur and Mary are dead.”

Sera caught her glass just in time. Her heart in her throat and racing, she arched a brow in what she hoped was a nonchalant fashion and said, “I beg your pardon?”

“Despite your decidedly liberal views,” Honoria said, examining the color of her sherry in the firelight, “I’m certain that you’re reasonably capable of caring for my nieces, Sera. You have, after all, safely brought them home from halfway around the world. But unless Arthur has changed a great deal in the twelve years since I last saw him, it just isn’t in his character to let another be responsible for the care of his prized possessions if he were able to do so himself. The only logical conclusion to be drawn is that Arthur didn’t bring his children home himself because he cannot. And the only reason sufficiently dire to prevent him from doing so would be death.”

Sera said nothing and Honoria met her gaze squarely.

“And their mother must have passed on, as well,” the woman continued. “Arthur married after I last saw him and so I never met Mary. However, knowing Arthur as I did, I can be quite certain that she was possessed of qualities very much like his own. The same reasoning applies. If she didn’t accompany her daughters home to England, then she must have also died.”

The woman’s logic was flawless and astute. There was no attacking it in any equally reasonable way. Neither was it possible to simply dismiss it out of hand or to admit the truth of it. Sera saw only one real choice. “Mr. Reeves has asked me to say nothing about this matter.”

“Oh, do let me guess,” Honoria snapped. “Carden doesn’t want anyone to know that Arthur has died so that he won’t have to bear the crippling weight of being a peer.”

That was the essence of it, Sera knew. Carden Reeves had very legitimate reasons for being selfish but in the end …

“I’ve known Carden since he was a boy,” Honoria declared, obviously not needing Sera to confirm her suspicions. “And allow me to share with you the essential core of his hope to evade his responsibility. Carden does not want to grow up. He never has. He wants to play at whatever amuses him at the moment. Four years ago, it was being an officer in Her Majesty’s Corps of Engineers. Apparently that didn’t quite develop the way he envisioned.

“I don’t know the specific circumstances for his having resigned his commission, but I suspect that, as usual, it had something to do with the expectations being more than he was willing to meet. For the last year—since his return from the Transvaal—he’s been dabbling at being an architect when he wasn’t preoccupied with chasing pretty skirts all over town day in and day out. The latter, it would appear, is his one and only truly consistent interest.”

Sera waited to see if the woman was simply pausing for a breath. When the silence stretched out to the point of becoming noticeable, she ventured, “You’re painting a not very attractive picture of your brother-in-law.”

“Carden is a very intelligent and generous man, Sera. Considering the kind of woman his mother was and the appalling lack of supervision he had as a child, he’s turned out to be a far better man than anyone honestly expected. But having said that, I’d be remiss in not warning you about his less than sterling qualities. He’s far too handsome for his own good and he can charm anyone if he sets his mind to it. Just be certain that you don’t allow yourself to blindly fall under his spell.”

She knew about Carden Reeves’s tendencies. She had, in fact, surmised him to be a rake the moment he’d opened the door to her that morning. It rankled her pride that Honoria Reeves thought her too thick to have done so on her own. “I appreciate the concern that prompts you to warn me, Lady Lansdown,” Sera replied politely, “but I don’t think that Mr. Reeves has any intention of charming me.”

“Oh, he fully intends to seduce you. Of that I’m certain,” Honoria instantly, confidently countered. She laughed and quickly added, “Don’t look so put off, Seraphina. I’m old enough that I don’t have to dance around delicate topics anymore. I’ve also seen enough in my years that biting my tongue seems selfish in the extreme.

“Carden has excellent taste in women even if he isn’t at all exclusive with his favors. I can see the appraisal in his eyes whenever he looks at you. He’s never been particularly good at hiding his thoughts, you know. As transparent as window glass. He finds you exceedingly attractive and has decided to make you his next grand conquest.”

She’d surmised much of that on her own, as well, but was acutely uncomfortable with discussing such a very personal matter with someone who was virtually a stranger. A stranger with a quick and apparently acid tongue. Sera took a sip of her sherry and thought to put an end to the subject. “Well, I can assure you that I have no intention of being seduced, Lady Lansdown. I am, legally, a married woman.”

Honoria rocked back slightly. “Oh? No one mentioned this earlier this evening. I distinctly recall that Carden introduced you as
Miss.
And where is Mr. Treadwell, if I might ask?”

“Yes, I noted the change Mr. Reeves made in my marital status at the time of introductions, but didn’t see a naturally appropriate place to make the correction. My apologies for allowing you to labor under the false impression.”
Not that my status is truly any of your concern or business,
Sera tartly, silently added. “And Mr. Treadwell was the guide for Arthur and Mary on their last expedition. He hasn’t returned.”

“So Arthur and Mary are dead, aren’t they?” Honoria pressed. “Along with your husband.”

“I would prefer not to discuss it, if you don’t mind,” Sera announced firmly, politely, rising from the settee and moving to the sideboard. “Would you care for more sherry? I’d be glad to refresh your glass.”

“No, thank you. I’m fine. I don’t much care for sherry, actually. Have you ever had an affair, Seraphina?”

“What? Of course not!”

“In the absence of your experience in this realm, let me share mine with you. Men are irresistibly drawn to lonely married women. First, there’s the attractiveness of committing a sin—what with infidelity being the major transgression it’s generally regarded to be. And then there’s the likelihood of being caught in the affair itself. Danger always intensifies desire. Last, but certainly not least in their considerations, is the fact that one can’t be forced to marry a woman who already has a husband. Thus, married women are the male’s preferred choice for lovers. Danger, desire, risk—and all with no lasting consequences they have to bear.”

What was one supposed to say in such situations? It stood as the single most starkly frank presentation of such matters Sera had ever heard. And despite her shock at the bluntness of it all, she did have to admit that Honoria’s logic was—as seemed usual—flawlessly sharp.

“You are not only a lonely married woman, Seraphina, you’re also very beautiful and quite at hand. Carden can’t resist the combination. Not that it’s ever occurred to him to make the effort, mind you.”

She was really much too tired to deal effectively with all of this. “I’m very capable of fending off his attentions,” she asserted simply. “You’re concerning yourself needlessly.”

“Carden is nothing if not determined and persistent.”

“I believe I possess similar strengths of character.”

“I have no doubt that you do, my dear,” Honoria replied. “Of course one must ask oneself if it’s a wise decision to be so strong and virtuous. Despite his best efforts to evade his responsibilities, there will come a time when Carden has no choice but to accept them. When that day arrives—and arrive it will and sooner than he thinks—Carden Reeves will be the seventh Earl of Lansdown. Earls are always a valuable prize worth capturing. The queue will be a long one. An intelligent woman would try to place herself to the front of it.”

Sera knitted her brows, disconcerted by the unexpected turn in the woman’s thinking and wondering if perhaps she’d misunderstood. Hadn’t they just been speaking of the wisdom in evading Carden’s attentions? “Are you saying that I should let Carden seduce me in the hope of someday being asked to marry him?” she asked, unable to keep the incredulity from her voice.

“Your husband is presumed dead,” Honoria observed with a shrug. “I’m sure the Queen’s courts would clear that unfortunate little obstacle out of your bridal path.”

Resisting the urge to rub the dull ache blooming between her brows, Sera shook her head and summoned patience. “I’m hardly the type of woman that a peer would marry. My father was a scientist of sorts, my mother the daughter of a Spanish ship’s captain. I come from a family of neither wealth nor consequence.”

“Some women wouldn’t let such a little detail prevent them from achieving a grand social coup,” Honoria countered, thoroughly undeterred. “I can’t tell you how many females I know who claim lineages whose authenticity can only be described as dubious at best.”

“I have absolutely no desire whatsoever to marry again, Lady Lansdown. Once was more than enough for me.”

“A lonely,
unhappily
married woman. Your appeal just soared another full ten degrees,” she declared with a majestic wave of her hand. “If you truly intend to resist Carden’s advances, you’d best keep that bit of information carefully tucked away. Not that he’d be incapable of ferreting it out anyway. The only time men seem able to read female minds with any clarity is when it comes to seducing them. Once that’s accomplished, however, they become as thick as planks. I honestly think there should be some scientific study as to how that happens, don’t you?”

“It would no doubt prove interesting.” And interesting was what her next conversation with Carden Reeves would be, as well. If the man honestly thought his sister-in-law was nothing more than a sweet little gossip monger, then he really needed to have the blinders removed. Preferably by considerable force. She’d be more than happy to oblige him.

“So tell me about yourself, your family, Seraphina. You said your father was a scientist of sorts.”

Recalling the paces through which Honoria had put John Aiden earlier in the evening, Sera steadied herself for the onslaught and replied, “He was a botanist who specialized in tropical species. He thought to someday publish his work but died before he could see it done.”

“And your mother?”

“Unlike Lady Wickerly, she didn’t endure in silence. My father always maintained that it was her Spanish blood that made her tongue as sharp and quick as it was.”

“Their union wasn’t a happy one, then.”

It would have been easiest to agree and leave it at that. But she couldn’t. Not in good conscience. Her parents’ relationship had been a complex but generally companionable one. “My mother wanted to escape life on the sea. My father needed someone to manage the dreary day-to-day details of his life. Their relationship was more practical and businesslike than romantic. And since neither entered the marriage with illusions of it ever being more than that, they were actually quite content with their circumstances and each other.”

Honoria didn’t so much as pause to digest what she’d been told, much less offer a positive comment on it. “And your late husband … how did you meet?”

“He made a public pretense of being a business associate of my father’s,” she dutifully, sketchily supplied. “In actuality, he exchanged empty promises for meals and lodging.”

“And for you.”

She’d never looked at it quite that way, but there was a kernel of truth in Honoria’s observation. “In the final analysis, yes, he did,” she admitted, not liking at all what it implied about her ability to make intelligent judgments.

Honoria said something else—on what subject Sera had no idea and didn’t really much care. Carden and his friends were in the foyer and coming toward the parlor, their glasses in hand. She was about to be rescued and she would be eternally grateful to whichever of them had been the one to think she might need it. With any luck at all, the longest day of her life might soon come to a solitary and silent close.