Seduce Me (9 page)

“Tell me what you can.”

She nodded. “There are those who believe that when the gods made the box and sent it with Pandora they cursed it, thus cursing
her and any who opened it. Inside the box, they put disease, greed, hope and lust. Legend says that when Pandora opened the
box she released all of the curses. Then she panicked and slammed the lid down, sealing hope inside. It was a cruel jest at
the hands of the gods.”

Mr. Nichols had mentioned believing the curses were contained in material items. “You mentioned something about an inscription,”
he said.

She held her hand out to him. “Here,” she said, pointing to the tiny engraved text.

“What language is this?”

“Some derivation of ancient Greek. I admit, it’s not my best language; I am much better with Latin. But I know enough to know
that’s ‘lust.’ ” She tilted her head. “I don’t suppose you know Greek?”

“I can speak a few words, but that is all.” He looked back down at the band. “So each bracelet represents one of those elements?
Theoretically speaking,” he said.

“Yes, I believe so.”

He nodded. “Which means there’s at least one remaining in the box.”

Esme opened her mouth, then frowned. “One more band?”

“The men who kidnapped you opened the box, and they both received similar bracelets for their trouble.”

She buried her face in her hands. “Oh, this is positively dreadful.” Her voice was muffled. “I’m quite certain the bracelets
that have been unleashed will wreak havoc on the wearers.”

He looked from the bracelet to the woman wearing it. Wreak havoc on the wearers, indeed. Esme seemed to have a knack for wreaking
havoc, with or without a bracelet.

Fielding swore, which garnered a look from his carriage companion. He’d wanted to deliver Esme Worthington back to her aunt,
hand this bloody box over to Solomon’s, then collect his fee and be done with it. Now he could do none of those things. The
men who hired him had warned him about the evils within the box, and while Fielding certainly didn’t believe any of that nonsense,
chances were they meant those bracelets. Which meant they belonged inside the box, and until they were all returned, his job
wasn’t complete.

He might not be the most honest man in London, but he’d never cheated anyone who’d paid him.

“Then I suppose there’s only one thing for us to do,” he said.

“What’s that?”

“We have to go after the bracelets.”

* * *

“What do you mean, we have to go after the bracelets?” Esme asked, certain she’d misunderstood him. “Aren’t we currently running
from
the men who wear two of them?”

He inclined his head. “We are. But without all the bands in the box, I cannot complete the job I’ve been hired to do. Which
means until we remove that bracelet from your wrist, you’re my responsibility.”

“So honorable,” she said, her eyes skimming his strong form. His broad shoulders and strong, shapely thighs were evident in
his new clothes, and she wondered why he didn’t dress in such tailored finery more often. Oh, no, it was happening. The curse
was taking effect. She brought her hand to her throat. “I must be truthful, Mr. Grey.” His eyes were a warm brown when she
settled on them. “I find myself utterly drawn to you. The fine chisel of your jawline and the intensity in your gaze. You
are quite the specimen.” Esme sat taller in her seat. “So I do ask that you be a gentleman lest we end up in an unfortunate
position.”

His brows arched. “I am a gentleman by title and birth, Miss Worthington, but I’ve never been that good at behaving as one.
You’d best not trust your virtue with me.”

She was unable to turn away from his molten gaze. Had that been a promise or a threat?

“Instead of tallying my merits,” he said, “perhaps you should focus on something more pressing.” A seductive smile slid into
place. “Unless you have a better use of our time. We still have more than four hours to go before we arrive in London.”

The hot flush that crept up her neck settled in her cheeks until they burned. So it had been a promise. Suddenly she found
it quite difficult to breathe. She remembered his hands rubbing her sore muscles in the dungeon. Her internal temperature
climbed several degrees.

Perhaps Mr. Grey was right: If she focused on the task at hand, she wouldn’t think about his long legs and the way his thigh
muscles pressed nicely against his trousers. And she wouldn’t notice the crisp crinkle of brown hair on his forearms that
his rolled-up sleeves revealed.

“Oh, for mercy’s sake!” She mentally shook herself.

Talk, Esme; put your mind off of him
.

“I suspect most people believe Pandora’s box to be nothing more than a fable, but most of us who study the legend know the
truth of its existence. Which clearly we were quite right about.”

“Clearly,” he said dryly.

“I’d always subscribed to the theory that the box was not actually a box at all, but rather a bottle or an amphora. Many agree
with that assessment, I can assure you. But it does appear that we were wrong in that regard. It is, after all, an actual
box.”

“So it appears,” he said.

“In all these years of studying, how did I miss the legitimacy of this theory?” She shook her head in confusion. “What we’ll
be looking for in the books is information on the bracelets and precisely how we’re supposed to get them off.”

“Ah, yes, the books.”

“Mr. Grey, do you find humor in my being a scholar?” she asked. Her delicate chin rose, and she eyed him square in the face
as if she weren’t head and shoulders shorter than he.

He shrugged. “It’s not you, but the practice. I find it a waste of time. Tell me you’re not the least bit interested in this
antiquity because of its value.”

“Its value? Why, of course I am. Think of what we could learn by studying such an artifact. Think of the insight we could
gain into ancient cultures. Not to mention—”

“Not academic value. Monetary value.”

“Monetary?” she scoffed. “That’s insulting.”

“It’s made of solid gold,” he said.

“That’s completely irrelevant,” she insisted.

“Miss Worthington, you are vastly entertaining.”

“Splendid. Precisely what every woman longs to hear. I’ll have you know I was not attempting to be entertaining. I am quite
serious about my studies.”

He almost believed her.
Almost
. But Fielding knew better. He’d seen his father’s fruitless research dry up the family’s fortune. Books and studies were
a complete waste of time unless they brought a profit in the end. Anyone who thought otherwise was fooling themselves.

“There is a difference between a dreamer and a scholar, Miss Worthington.”

“And you are suggesting that I am the former rather than the latter.” She shook her head in annoyance. “You men are all the
same.”

He ignored her comment, though it intrigued him. Instead he settled on giving her instructions about what would happen once
they arrived in London. “We’ll need to make haste at gathering these books you need,” he said.

“Yes.” She nodded fervently. “I am most eager to remove this curse.”

“No, I meant we can’t stay at your home long. Waters and Thatcher know where you live, and they will likely return.”

She frowned. “But you said we needed to find them.”

“We do, but it would be better if we knew how to remove the bracelets first. I’ll take you somewhere to stay where you can
be safe in the meantime.”

“Oh,” she said. Although no sound came out, everything on her face went round. Her eyes were like big green emeralds, and
that mouth of hers parted in a silent “O.”

“And what of my aunt? My household?”

“We’ll bring your aunt with us.”

“And my cat?” she asked.

Her cat?

Her books, her aunt,
and
her cat? Was he to cart her entire household across London? Perhaps she had a neighbor or a shopgirl down the lane he could
accommodate too.

He gritted his teeth. “And your cat. Send your staff to their own homes for a while or to visit family.”

She nodded and gripped the folds of her skirts. “Where shall we go?”

“The last place the Raven will look for me. To the home of a member of Solomon’s.” Were it not useful in that regard, he’d
never seek out this man for assistance. It could work to his benefit, though. The closer he got to the club’s members, the
easier it would be to uncover the identities of the men he sought. The men who’d been with his father when the accident had
occurred; the men who were responsible for his death.

D
id you say Solomon’s?” she breathed. “
The
Solomon’s?”

“Unless there is another group of treasure hunters pretending to be scholars, then I suspect yes,
the
Solomon’s. You’ve heard of them?”

“Of course I’ve heard of them. They are a legendary club whispered about in the shadows as if they were armored knights.”
She tried to slow her breathing or at the very least the rate of her speech. “And you are one of them?”

He scoffed. “No. They hired me to find the box.”

“Ah.” She sank back against the seat. “They hired you.” It mattered little that he was not himself a member. Solomon’s reputation
was impeccable. They would work with only the most honorable of men.

“Yes. One of their members has devoted his life to Pandora’s box and is extremely concerned with the antiquity falling into
the wrong hands. So he and his friends”—he stumbled over the last word—“hired me to retrieve it from the Raven and return
it safely to them.”

“They must certainly trust you.”

He shook his head. “No, I was merely the lesser of two evils. I can do things they are unwilling to do.”

“Solomon’s,” she whispered. His self-deprecation did little to dampen her interest in the matter. Quite the opposite, in fact.
His modesty was charming.

“They are only men. Nothing exciting about that,” he grumbled.

She smiled, feeling content and greatly relieved. “I trust the men of Solomon’s implicitly to care for Pandora’s box. Therefore,
I must deduce that you are trustworthy, or they would never have employed you.”

Her confidence seemed to further annoy him. His jaw twitched.

As challenging as it was, she said nothing else for the duration of their trip. She wanted neither to annoy Mr. Grey nor to
waste the opportunity to think of a possible solution. Two hours later they had arrived at her home, and Esme still had no
idea how to remove the bracelet. She shuttled Fielding into her study.

“Mr. Grey, please wait in here.” Horace jumped off a wingback chair and twined himself between her legs. She bent to scratch
him behind the ears. It was nice to be missed. “I need to notify my aunt that we’ll be going away for a while and she’ll need
to pack a few things. I’ll be down directly to help gather the requisite books.” She scooped up her cat, then left Fielding
standing in the midst of her study.

Esme inhaled deeply. There had been moments when she’d feared she would never again see her aunt or her books or her home.
Her home that smelled of freshly baked bread and was usually full of the sounds of her aging servants speaking too loudly
to each other to make up for their diminished hearing. She made her way through the house and found her aunt coming down the
stairs.

“Oh, me, you’re home, child. I heard the door; I hoped it was you.” She took several deep breaths. “We were so worried.” Her
aunt was a round woman with rosy cheeks and bright blue eyes. Esme had always thought she resembled an aging cherub.

“Yes, I’m home. You will never believe what has happened to me, Thea.” She gave her aunt a squeeze. There weren’t many adults
shorter than Esme, but Thea was one of them. “There is no time to explain it now, though. Rest assured that very soon I shall
have a story to tell you that will make that curling rod of yours unnecessary.” She leaned in and kissed her aunt’s cheek.
They might not be blood-related, but Thea was the only family Esme had. Their relationship had begun simply enough, a mutual
love of books, but they were so much more now.

“I shall look forward to that.” Thea paused. “We tried to clean up your study as best we could.”

“Thank you.” Esme gave Thea an encouraging smile. “I know it won’t make any sense, and I don’t have time to explain right
now, but we must leave. All of us. Within the hour.”

Thea’s hand flew to her ample bosom. “You are giving me such a fright, child.”

“All will be well.” Esme gave Thea another squeeze. “You go and pack some of our belongings. And let Mr. and Mrs. Craddock
know they should go and visit their family until further notice.”

At Thea’s worried expression, Esme gently patted her shoulder. “I promise, all will be well. I shall be in my office with
a visitor.”

Thea nodded cautiously, then disappeared through a doorway.

The woman was featherbrained, to be certain, but she was kind, and Esme was grateful for her financial contribution that had
allowed the two of them to purchase a suitable house on the edge of Clareville Grove with a lovely garden that Thea faithfully
tended.