Sari Robins - [Andersen Hall Orphanage 05] (9 page)

“W
hat do you mean, no harm was done?” Steele demanded from the young governess. “The boy could have drowned!”

“But he didn’t,” Miss West replied with vigor. “In fact, he’s quite elated about the whole thing; he thinks that he got to go swimming when his brother didn’t.”

Despite her dreadful bonnet clenched in her hands before her and those soulful gray eyes looking up at him, Miss West still didn’t look nearly as contrite as she should. Instead, somehow she managed to look too delectable for her own good. It couldn’t be the damp golden hair sticking up around her head like hay. But it might’ve had something to do with the fact that her soggy clothing clung to her shapely body tighter than any opera dancer’s costume.

Steele did his best to keep his eyes locked with hers and not allow them to veer down to the luscious swell of her bosom. “That’s a five-year-old’s version. Not reality.”

“But that’s the only one that counts in the end. Since all is well.”

All wasn’t well, since Steele’s jaw had been clenched ever since he’d learned of the incident. The boys had been in his care for only a week and Seth almost drowned? If anything happened to them…“Where was Claude?”

“He was with Seth, but then after the fall and all, I lost track…”

“Did he leave his post?”

Her teeth clenched and her eyes flashed with anger. “I don’t want to lay blame until we hear his side of what happened…”

“But he’s nowhere to be found.”

“Yes.”

“Something smells fishy to me.”

She looked up hopefully as her cheeks flushed pink. “I can go and change…”

“You’re not getting away that easily.” He hadn’t been referring to her clothing and, in truth, she smelled quite nicely of heather and woman. Aside from the fact that he knew that she could hardly catch cold in this mild weather, he wasn’t quite ready to have her turn tail and run, or change clothing and ruin his lovely view.

Miss West gritted her teeth, and a decidedly defiant gleam lit her gaze. “I know that things didn’t go well today—”

“You think?” His tone was sardonic. He tried to feel guilty over how much he was enjoying this little interview, but couldn’t muster the remorse. Despite the fact that he’d hardly seen more than a glimpse of Miss West the last seven days, she’d been on his mind far too much for his good. Whenever he thought about their little encounter in the park and how she’d boldly
declared that she wouldn’t sleep with him, his lips would lift into a little smile. Whenever he considered how she’d protected Seth with that audacious move that had brought Carlton to his knees, he couldn’t quite help the swell of admiration from blooming inside him. And when he reflected on how nice it was to speak with an interesting woman with a brain in her head, he would find himself nodding with appreciation.

The danger, however, came when he dwelled on how the air had crackled with sensual awareness between them, how deliciously warm her smooth skin had felt touching his. And how her gossamer golden hair had seemed to beg for his caress, and how tempted he was to taste those lush bowed lips.

Miss West might as well have been wearing a sign that spelled
Danger
. And Steele was too astute and too cautious a man not to heed the warning. So he’d stayed away. He’d stopped himself from going to the schoolroom to check on the boys. He’d made sure not to dine with the lads or interrupt their play. He told himself that it was good for the boys as well, since they were settling in and he didn’t want to disrupt their routine.

But now Steele had no choice but to engage the intriguing Miss West. And he wasn’t fool enough not to enjoy it.

Raising her brow, she crossed her arms, causing her bosom to swell quite deliciously. “Are we done, my lord?”

He frowned, keeping his eyes locked with hers. “I’ll inform you when I am finished with you, Miss West.”

The energy surging through him reminded him of the feeling when he was in court examining a witness. The unpredictability of the encounter was exhilarating, and he loved the challenge. “Tell me again why you weren’t watching Seth.”

“I was with Felix. And the kite. I couldn’t be in two places at once.” Her eyes narrowed slightly.

“Why are you looking at me that way?”

“What way?”

“As if somehow this is my fault.”

Her chin lifted a notch.

“Well?” he demanded. “Spit it out.”

She lanced him with a searing gaze of gray-blue fire. “Perhaps if you’d come along…”

He straightened. “I have work to do.”

“Every moment of every day?”

“For your information, being Solicitor-General of England requires some of my time.” Distantly he was amazed that he was even engaging in this conversation with a member of his staff. Yet somehow he found himself annoyingly irritated that she didn’t think well of him.

Her lip lifted into a funny little curl.

“You don’t believe me?” he asked, shocked.

“I’ve been here one week, and in that time you’ve barely spared the boys more than a word or two.”

He didn’t like the course of this conversation, yet somehow found himself going deeper down its path. “So?”

“So, you’re to be their closest family and they hardly know you!”

Steele pursed his lips, telling himself that it
could be easily justified by the fact that he was just temporarily the boys’ guardian.

“You’ve been avoiding them,” she declared, which was close enough to the truth to make him shift uncomfortably.

Turning, he stepped away from her and moved to stare out the window.

Miss West stepped behind him. He could feel her presence like a burning stove emanating a heat that warmed his skin in a decidedly unsettling way.

Furtively he inhaled her womanly scent, wondering why Miss West had been sent to vex him when instead there had to be hundreds of snippety, repulsive, know-their-place governesses in England.

She asked gently, “Is it because they remind you of your wife?”

He started. “No. Of course not.”

“It wouldn’t be so unnatural,” she replied. “They look like her.”

He turned, surprised. “How do you know?”

“I saw a portrait of her up in the attics.”

“What were you doing in the attics?”

Her cheeks flushed pink, and he realized that she’d been checking to make sure that he hadn’t been lying about the repairs to the nurseries.

“You don’t trust anyone’s word, do you?”

She looked away guiltily. “I just wanted to see for myself.”

He chuckled. “I would’ve done the same.”

She looked up, and their eyes met. Connection flashed between them, spearing his gut with the
familiar lust that had been plaguing his nights these last seven days.

He’d felt a similar kind of awareness between himself and women before. Yet this was the first time the intensity of this sensual spark burning between them was enough to steal the breath from his throat.

Certainly having her sleeping in the next room didn’t help matters. He could hear her fumbling around at all hours of the night and wondered what she was up to.

“You don’t sleep much, do you?” he asked suddenly.

Blinking, she started. “Pardon?”

“At night. I hear you…”

Her brow furrowed, and then she looked away, seemingly embarrassed. “I’m sorry. Did I disturb you?”

“No,” he lied. “I was awake anyway.”

Her cheeks flushed pink. “I’m so sorry. It’s just that I seem to have difficulty sleeping when there’s so much to do.”

“So much to do?” He wondered if he was overworking her.

“You know…arrange things…organize…make lists.”

He crossed his arms. “What kind of organizing? Are you uncomfortable in your quarters?”

“Oh no! The room is lovely! Nicer than I’ve ever had, even before my parents died. Comfort is certainly not the issue…” Her voice trailed off.

“Then what is?”

Shaking her head, she exhaled and then yawned, as if thinking about sleep made her tired. She was very odd, and yet somehow so very endearing. “Well, I just…someone once told me that I’m…a nester.”

He suddenly wondered if that friend who knew of her nocturnal habits was male or female. “A nester?”

“I need to…nest.”

“Like a bird?”

“Yes. I suppose when it comes right down to it, I…it’s hard for me to settle in to a new place.”

“I understand.”

“You do?”

More than you will ever know.
“You exhaust yourself with tasks until your head crashes onto the pillow in unconsciousness.”

Her brow furrowed and then she smiled. “I suppose so.”

He found his lips yearning to lift and match hers. But he quelled the desire, realizing that he was feeling far too much affinity for this woman. Brusquely he motioned to her hat. “Your bonnet is a disaster.”

Staring down at it, she smiled fondly and sighed. “I know.”

“I daresay the water killed it.”

“It was a mighty sacrifice,” she teased. “But well worth it. You should’ve seen Seth’s face when the ducks thought the beads were bread crumbs. He was positively delighted.” Her eyes flashed with humor and her cheeks glowed to a lovely hue. She was really
quite pretty; no wonder he’d felt the need to keep his distance.

He reminded himself that it had been quite a good idea, since spending time with the woman only seemed to heighten his desire. Yet for his life, he was unwilling to end this interview just yet.

The new butler, Dudley, swept into the room and stood sergeant-stiff by the door.

Trying not to be annoyed by the interruption, Steele looked up. “Yes, Dudley?”

“Mr. Linder-Myer, here to see you, my lord.”

The smile dropped from Miss West’s face faster than a cutpurse could escape. She stiffened and clutched that hideous bonnet as if it were a lifeline.

Steele hid his frown. This could be a simple matter of Sir Lee checking in now that Benbrook was gone. But knowing Sir Lee, he’d probably gotten wind of the incident at the park already. The man seemed to have eyes and ears everywhere. “Yes, show him in.”

Straightening her worn, waterlogged skirts, Miss West gritted her teeth and muttered, “How could you?”

“How could I what?”

Skepticism flashed in her gaze. “I can’t believe that you contacted Mr. Linder-Myer over this.”

“Who says that I did?”

“Then why is he here?”

Steele had no answer, so he fell back on a reflexive technique he used in court, striking the offense. “I can’t believe that you dare to question me.”

He regretted the words immediately.

It was as if he’d just painted a thick unbreakable line segregating himself from her—powerful employer to powerless servant, eminent lord to lowly commoner. Any sense of intimacy that had grown between them evaporated into mist.

She stiffened, and the very air around her chilled a few degrees. “Forgive me, my lord. I forgot my place. It will not happen again.”

Her slate blue eyes shuttered and her face looked carved from stone, reminding him of a marble statue he’d seen among the Elgin Marbles, beautiful yet as remote as the years past when it was carved.

He frowned. “I…It’s all right. I didn’t mean…”

“Mr. Linder-Myer,” Dudley declared near the door, and Sir Lee Devane swept into the room.

S
ir Lee ambled into the study flourishing his gold-topped cane. By his craggy face and hunched stature, one might have supposed that the elderly man was harmless. Especially given his usually cheerful mien and relaxed pose.

But Sir Lee was about as harmless as a scythe.

The knighted gentleman might have retired as a master of spies, but the man who’d been in charge of intelligence on every suspicious foreigner in England for years still kept his hands in the pot. Hence, Sir Lee was the man that Lord Benbrook had approached when he’d needed help but didn’t want to involve the authorities or have any publicity of any kind. At the time, Benbrook had explained that the Devonshire family had suffered a great scandal years before, and since then his family’s personal affairs were of the utmost confidentiality.

Sir Lee had drafted Steele to their cause. And, to Steele’s irritation, Sir Lee was the one who’d been calling the tunes of late to which Steele had been dancing.

Although one might have supposed that Sir Lee
wore the old-fashioned dove gray coat and knee breeches with white stockings to bolster his assumed role as agency representative, in truth, this was his preferred attire. The man seemed to have chosen a fashion he admired a number of years back and had stuck with it since.

With a twinkle in his green eyes, Sir Lee bowed. “Good day to you, Lord Steele. Miss West.”

Steele nodded. “Linder-Myer.”

Pasting on a wooden smile, Miss West dipped into a slight curtsy. “Good day, Mr. Linder-Myer. What a surprise to see you so soon.” Each word was laced with just a hint of scorn directed solely at Steele.

Steele pursed his lips, distracted and annoyed that she would think him so trite as to call the agency representative with the merest cause. Then again, the incident had placed Seth’s life in danger. But he was certainly capable enough of handling things without calling in for reinforcements, and from an agency interviewer, no less.

“Why, you’re soaked to the bone!” Sir Lee cried. “You should change into dry clothing immediately! You’ll catch your death!”

Miss West bowed her head. “How considerate of you to think of my health, Mr. Linder-Myer.”

“She’s hardier than she looks,” Steele defended, feeling just a little bit guilty for keeping her standing there in her wet clothing.

Sir Lee tsked. “But it would be a terrible thing if Miss West caught cold. Especially where there’s certain to be a pot of hot tea in the house. Tea is always welcome, if there’s some about.” Sir Lee
rubbed his middle distractedly. “And cakes, too, always welcome, and always refreshing.”

Withholding a grimace that he was once again dancing to Sir Lee’s tunes, Steele nodded. “May I invite you to stay for tea, Mr. Linder-Myer?”

“Oh, how kind of you, Lord Steele! But I wouldn’t want to impose.”

Steele smiled. “Oh no, it’s no imposition.” Stepping over to the pull, he yanked on the cord.

Dudley appeared in seconds.

“Tea and cakes, please, Dudley.”

Dudley’s eyes leaped to Miss West.

Tilting his head, Steele exhaled. “Miss West will be joining us,
after
she’s had an opportunity to change her attire.”

Sir Lee beamed. “Excellent! And when you return, I want to hear all the details of the incident at the park this morning.”

Miss West’s eyes snapped to Steele’s and her lips pursed in obvious irritation. “Certainly. If you will excuse me, my lord?” Each word was laced with frost.

“Of course.”

She left the room, her back as stiff as whalebone, her unspoken rebuke chilling the air.

Steele closed the door a bit harder than he’d meant to behind her. “Why are you here, Sir Lee?”

The old gent’s mask of innocence fell away. “I heard that you’d had an incident and I wanted to check up on things.”

Stepping behind his desk, Steele sat down, the leather of his chair creaking beneath him. “Every
thing’s fine. No harm was done.” The irony that he was repeating Miss West’s proclamation was not lost on him, but he hardly cared. He hated being checked up on as if he weren’t capable of handling matters.

“Has the footman Claude turned up?”

“No.”

“I’ll get some men on it. I’ll let you know as soon as we find him.” Sir Lee lowered himself into the chair opposite Steele and rested both hands on his gold-topped cane. “I understand that Miss West dove into the water and saved the lad. Were it not for her…”

Rubbing his hands over his eyes, Steele tried not to let the fear gnawing at his guts affect him. “I wasn’t quite clear on that part. I was more focused on how Seth fell in, in the first instance.”

Sir Lee’s craggy face broke into a smile. “That’s what I always liked about you, Steele; you keep your eyes on the true issue.”

“Don’t butter me up, Sir Lee. This could have been a disaster.”

Sir Lee shrugged. “I know. But it wasn’t. And I didn’t call on you today only because of the incident in the park. I have news.” The old gent leaned forward. “Until now, I wasn’t one hundred percent certain that Benbrook’s son and daughter-in-law’s carriage accident involved foul play.”

“But Benbrook is so certain, and there’s the threatening letter against Benbrook’s life—”

Sir Lee held up his hand. “I like to be sure of my facts, that’s all.”

“And?”

“And I’ve interviewed the witnesses, and the carriage accident that killed Seth and Felix’s parents last month was indeed staged.”

Steele’s hands clenched on the desk. “Do you think that Seth and Felix are in danger?”

Sir Lee pursed his lips. “The threatening letter Benbrook received recently was focused only on him. Maybe the killer thought that Benbrook was in that carriage instead of his son?”

“Still, we don’t know the killer’s motive…” Steele hated the idea of anyone intent on harming Seth and Felix. “A lot of people have cause to hate Benbrook…”

Sir Lee leaned forward. “Yourself included.”

“The man’s a pompous ass.”

Sir Lee waved a hand. “Still, the motive could be revenge, a debt, inheritance…we won’t know until we find the perpetrator.”

“What is the story with his relatives? Who’s in line to inherit?”

“In order after Benbrook dies are…” Sir Lee ticked off his fingers. “Felix, Seth, then Benbrook’s brother in India, Gordon Devonshire.”

“What do we know about this Gordon Devonshire?”

“There was a scandal. Benbrook is more secretive than any agent I know—”

“Which is why he brought you in, instead of a Bow Street Runner or the authorities,” Steele interjected.

“Exactly. But I was able to get him to admit that the scandal years ago involved Gordon Devonshire sleeping with Benbrook’s then fiancée.”

Steele cringed. “Ouch. That means bad blood between the brothers.”

“Yes. Apparently Benbrook broke it off with the girl and banished his brother to distant shores.”

“Gordon certainly has motive.”

“Yes, but no one’s heard from the man in years. And I’ve done some checking around. The people who knew him in England say that he’s not the kind of man to take bold steps.”

“Maybe India changed him.”

Sir Lee shook his head. “They describe him as…weak-willed, not very bright, and incapable of managing a long-distance murder plot. Besides, the rift happened over twenty years ago. Why wait until now to take revenge? And the man must be well over sixty—”

“Age doesn’t stop you,” Steele interjected.

Sir Lee’s eyes twinkled. “But I’m unique,” he teased.

“I noticed.” Steele leaned back in his chair, and it creaked stridently. He knew that he should get it fixed, but he liked the noise when he was working alone in his study. It was his nest, he supposed, and he liked it that way. “Did Gordon Devonshire have any children?”

“A son. Patrick Devonshire. He would be about twenty-one.”

“So Gordon was married when he had the affair?”

Sir Lee scowled. “Yes. And I’m checking up on Gordon and the son, Patrick. But it’ll take some time.”

Tapping his finger to his lips, Steele sighed. “I wish
Benbrook had taken my advice; then we’d have a better shot at knowing if inheritance is the motive.”

“I don’t disagree. But Benbrook doesn’t want to make you his heir, and the transfers must be very complicated.”

Steele looked away. “I can manage it and it’s legal.”

“With the help of a certain prince?” Sir Lee asked.

Ignoring the lure, Steele leaned forward, and the chair squeaked loudly. “All you need to know is that if I’m Benbrook’s heir, then we can know the motive and likely suspect.”

“Don’t you worry for your safety?”

“I can take care of myself.”

Sir Lee’s lips pursed and his eyes narrowed. Steele kept his face fixed; there was no way the old gent could know that Steele had been a Sentinel or about his midnight excursions. The man
might
know that Steele had saved the prince’s life, but Steele wasn’t about to say anything that would breach his promise to the prince.

“It’s not a bad idea,” Sir Lee admitted after a moment. “If anyone tries anything against you, then we know for certain that inheritance is the motive and that Gordon is likely the killer.”

“Exactly! And it would only be temporary. Once the killer is found I return guardianship of the boys and all rights back to Benbrook.”

Scratching his chin, Sir Lee pursed his lips. “You still have the papers?”

Steele opened the desk drawer, selected the parchment, and laid it on the desk. “Right here. Do you
think that once Benbrook learns of today’s mishap he may change his mind?”

“Doubtful. I think he’d be much more likely to make you his heir if you considered getting married.”

“As I told you before, Sir Lee, I’m not in the market to find a wife,” Steele bit out.

The old gent shook his head. “If you can show Benbrook that you have established a fine home in which to be able to raise his two grandchildren, then I think he will be more disposed to place his signature across those pages. And not just for the short term.”

“I am giving them a home.”

“Temporarily. You’re a bachelor. You live for your work and spend more time at your offices than in your house. It doesn’t recommend you as a father.”

Despite himself, Steele was affronted. “I’d make a blasted good father.”

Sir Lee lifted a shoulder in a negligent shrug. “Perhaps. But speaking as someone who failed miserably as a parent, no matter how well intentioned, we often do more harm than good.”

“Everyone makes mistakes.”

“Disowning your daughter for marrying the man she loves is not exactly an everyday mistake. She died penniless and alone in an institution for the poor.” His voice was laced with condemnation and sorrow.

Steele was uncomfortable with such bare grief. “But you found your grandson…”

“Only through a score of amazing good luck.” Sir Lee swallowed.

“He seems to have forgiven you…”

“Thank God he doesn’t hate me…but I cannot forgive myself for all I’ve done…” His craggy face was pained. “All I can do is try to make it up to him.” Suddenly Sir Lee looked up and his eyes narrowed. “It takes a rare statesman to get me so off topic…We’re talking about you getting married, not my family affairs.”

Steele crossed his arms. “I don’t believe that marrying will convince Benbrook to make me his heir. Why, I’d be replacing Deidre. He wouldn’t want that.”

“I think that Benbrook is more concerned about the future than the past.” Sir Lee’s green eyes took on a distant cast filled with sadness. “Losing one’s child will do that to a man.”

Steele shifted. “Did he say for certain that he would make me his heir if I married?”

“Oh, he made it quite clear. He hates his brother and has little use for his wife’s side of the family. I think if you proved yourself worthy then he’d consider giving you all of it…to go to the boys eventually of course.”

“He’s never found me worthy before.” Steele couldn’t disguise the bitterness in his tone.

“He’s never felt his mortality so strongly before. Nor was he without a son to raise his grandchildren.” Sir Lee toyed with his gold-topped cane. “Mark my words, marry well and Benbrook will make you his heir. Then you are the target, the children are safer, and your future is lined with gold.”

“Marry well, meaning…”

“Simple enough, she’s got to be of noble blood, good connections, good character. I know what it’ll
take to satisfy Benbrook that the children will be raised in a manner befitting their station. I can guide you.”

“Having certain connections does not make a lady a good mother.”

“What attributes do you think make a good mother?”

“How am I supposed to know?” Steele scoffed, irritated by the conversation.

Scratching his ear, Sir Lee sighed. “I suppose we need to ask someone who actually
has
experience with children. But even with those additional requirements, you should have plenty of choices given that you’re a viscount now.”

Steele shifted. “I’m not a prize pig up for market.”

“Of course not. But you’re not a young man any longer.”

“I’m not so far from thirty!”

Sir Lee sniffed. “Many men have six children by now.”

“Six?” Steele swallowed.

“Still, you’ve just received a very coveted designation. By the by, you never did tell me what you did to gain your title…”

“I thought you had eyes and ears everywhere, Sir Lee.”

The old gent’s craggy face grimaced. “Are you going to tell me or not?”

“No.”

“Fine. Then let’s get back to business.”

Steele knew that Sir Lee wasn’t finished digging, but he had to admire a man who never became dejected, just delayed.

Sir Lee went on, “I still think you need a wife for Benbrook to cooperate.”

“Fine. I’ll think about it.”

Sir Lee reached for the parchment and slipped it into his pocket. “Then I’ll start working on Benbrook.”

A knock resounded at the door.

“Come.” Steele called.

Two servants entered and set up the tea service by the sofa and chairs across the room.

Eyeing the cakes, Sir Lee stood and ambled over to the sofa. Steele noticed that he kept his cane within easy reach of his right hand. That cane would make a nice weapon, if necessary, Steele noted, having no doubt that Sir Lee knew how to use it. Suddenly the black-shrouded lady came to mind. She’d carried a similar cane. Could Sir Lee’s cane hide a blade, too? Somehow Steele knew that it did.