The Fire's Center (3 page)

He reached out to pull her up by her wrist as though she were as light as a feather, and deposited her in the seat across from him.

Then he pulled the door closed, and banged on the roof of the carriage with his knuckles to signal to the driver to move on.

"Well, Miss, what’s a tiny slip of a girl like you doing walking on the road at this late hour, and in the pouring rain?" the dark-haired stranger inquired, his unusual golden eyes resting upon her dripping form speculatively for a moment.

 
"I’m looking for my father, sir. The last I heard from him, he was working in Dublin for a family called Trevor. But we haven’t heard from him for so long now, I'm beginning to wonder if he's fallen ill, or lost his place."

His elegant black brows drew downwards over his rare eyes. "I see. How long has it been since you last had word?"

"Since before the winter," she said, settling back into the leather seat a bit more comfortably now that she could see her companion appeared kind and not liable to scold her for soaking the interior.

"He'd been sending us money, but without his assistance, and the huge rise in the price of food, well, my family and I have had a terrible winter."

"I can see that. You're skin and bone, lass."

She blushed at his assessing look, but reminded herself he was a medical man. He was certainly all man, she thought suddenly, trying not to stare at his spectacular dark good looks.

"So why are you on the road now?"

 
"I need to find him. We've been coping the best we can, but we need to know what happened to him. As soon as the weather improved and the roads were free of snow, I began my journey from Dunfanaghy, about a week ago. So far the weather hasn’t been too bad. That is until the sky opened up about an hour ago." Riona grimaced as she took off her dripping shawl to reveal her masses of auburn hair, and removed her parcel from her back.

"I take it you haven’t eaten for a while, then?" the stranger asked as he continued to stare at her pitifully thin appearance, not entirely with a professional interest, he had to admit. She was breathtakingly lovely despite her pallor, with hair like living flame.

"No, I haven’t," Riona said with a blush.

"Then will you do the honor to dine with me when we reach Strabane?"

"But sir, I’m soaked through, and I have no wish to embarrass you."

"Damn the embarrassment, child, you need to eat. But if it will make you feel better, I shall take you into a private room at an inn where you can get warm and dry. No one will see you there," the stranger said gruffly.

In truth he had been going to stay the night with his old friend the Earl of Abercorn at his estate Baronscourt, but he didn’t want to overwhelm the girl entirely.

Furthermore, he was eager to be home in Dublin, where he was just about to open a clinic for the poor in the Liberties area of the city. If he went to see the Earl, he might be forced to linger for days for politeness’ sake.

"Please allow me to introduce myself. I'm Dr. Lucien Woulfe, of Merrion Square West. And you are?"

"Riona Connolly, former governess to Mr. Charles Woodham of Dunfanaghy."

"A governess. I see. And what other skills do you possess?"

Riona shrugged. "Cooking, cleaning, sewing, tending the garden, growing herbs. Why?"

"Because it seems to me that you'll need a post when you get to Dublin. I may be in a position to help."

"No, really, sir, once I find my father..."

He quirked one arched dark brow at her. "Try to be realistic, Miss Connolly. What will you do if you don’t manage to find him? Starve in the streets of Dublin, instead of the streets of Dunfanaghy? Live in a workhouse?"

Riona blushed to the roots of her hair. "I wasn’t telling you my story to ask for charity, sir, merely to pass the time engaged in conversation," she said shyly. She lapsed into silence in the corner, hugging her arms against her chest for warmth.

She suddenly began to doubt the wisdom of having accepted a lift from him. What if she had fallen into the hands of some vile seducer? Ever since she had entered the brougham he had done nothing but stare at her.

And what woman wouldn’t fall prey to his charms? He was the most handsome man she had ever seen in her twenty-two years on the earth. How could any female fail to be moved by his good looks?

Lucien’s black hair fell in thick, lush ebony waves over one eye, swept over from the side, and it shimmered so darkly it was almost blue in color. His raven brows were moderately heavy, and arched gracefully over the most unusual eyes she had ever seen, tawny gold in color, which gave Riona the distinct impression of a tiger stalking its prey.

The nose was thin, particularly narrow at the bridge, and the tip was almost razor sharp. It was not, however, too large, and suited his thin cheeks, which were completely clean-shaven. He was without the heavy sideburns which were so fashionable amongst the Victorian gentlemen she had seen.

She noted a firm jaw and chin, which possessed a deep cleft. He had even white teeth which glinted when he spoke, and his rich sonorous voice added to his already ample attractions.

His stock was of the finest linen, snowy white. Indeed all his clothing was rich, but by no means gaudy. His coat and trousers were black, his waistcoat burgundy silk, but with no fancy embroidery, merely a paisley embossed pattern. The trousers were sleekly cut, and molded against his muscular legs to perfection.

Here was a man who led a busy, active life. He was, no doubt, an excellent horseman, and a wealthy, successful doctor, Riona judged from his magnificent hands, huge and capable-looking.

"Do I pass muster?" Lucien asked with a gentle smile.

"I’m s-sorry for s-s-taring," she stammered with cold and shyness. "I’m must admit, I'm trying to think what could possibly be your motives for helping me."

No man under the age of ninety could be oblivious to Riona’s ample feminine charms, Lucien thought with a small smile. Her heart-shaped face alone would launch two thousand ships, especially with her wide blue eyes and patrician features which would rival that of any bust he had ever seen in a museum.

But he was not about to point this out, for she would be out of the coach like a shot. He tried to view her with what he hoped was clinical detachment. She was lovely, but far too thin. Despite her beauty, at the moment she most closely resembled a sodden scarecrow rescued from a mud bath.

"I’ve told you, I’m looking for someone to help at my clinic. With your knowledge and skills, you might be just the right person," he found himself saying, though his original intention had been to find her a position as a governess amongst his circle of acquaintance.

Riona frowned, and huddled more tightly into the corner of the seat. "What knowledge and skills do you think I possess that would be of any use to you?"

"For one thing, Miss Connolly, you can obviously read and write. You can cook and sew, and you told me that you've grown plants and herbs. I'm willing to wager that you've knowledge of all sorts of useful remedies I could use in my new clinic."

She nodded slowly. "Now that you mention it, before she passed away my mother did teach me a great deal of what she'd learned over the years."

Lucien smiled, rendering his stunning face even more incredible. "You see, I knew it. What could be more perfect for you than working at my clinic?"

Riona considered all he had said in silence for a moment before replying, awed by this dazzling man and her incredible good fortune. At length she admitted, "Well, if I can’t find my father, I suppose I shall have to find a post somewhere as governess in order to send money home to my brothers and sisters. We've been doing our best to live frugally, but it’s so hard with all of them to feed and prices being what they are for the little that's to be had. I didn’t take more than a pound out of our funds, just in case they should need anything."

He sat back with his arms folded, as if the matter were completely resolved.
 
"If you give me the name of the establishment and their address, I shall send money to the bank in Dunfanaghy for them. That way they needn’t wait. In exchange, all you have to do is promise to work for me for a month.

"At the end of that time, if you’ve found your father, all very well and good. If not, then you can stay on with me if you like. Or I can make enquiries for you for a post as governess, if the work I give you doesn’t suit," he proposed.

It sounded wonderful. Perhaps too good to be true? "Oh really, sir, I wouldn’t want to put you to any trouble."

"It’s no trouble at all. I shall give you food and lodging, and some clothes for work, so you may keep your pound for any little necessities you might need. I shall send the rest to your family. If you earned, say, sixty pounds a year at your old job," Lucien said, quoting an impossibly high figure, "I shall send five pounds, which will represent one month’s salary."

Riona laughed incredulously. "Really, sir, I've never earned that much in a year in my life."

His brows knit slightly. "Your honesty does you credit, even if it is a bit foolish given your current plight.
 
You'd earn that in a good family in England. And I don’t cheat my workers," Lucien said.

He now resolved to send not just five pounds but twenty-five. He hated to think of her family worrying, scrimping and saving. It was a miracle as many of the Irish lower classes had survived as they had, if all the reports he had heard about the severity of the Famine were true.

Reluctantly, Riona agreed to his proposal. "Well, thank you, sir. I’ll do my best to please you."

"I warn you, though, I have only a humble bachelor’s establishment."

"No family?" she asked shyly.

He shook his head. "My mother died when I was small. My father passed several years ago and left a couple of properties to me and my brother. My old uncle Oliver lives in the family home down in Wicklow, and I have a town house. My aunts have a property north of the capital. My brother has a family, but I don’t really see them very much. Always busy with work, you know," he explained.

"One brother?" Riona asked, marvelling at the small family.

"Yes, two years younger than myself, called Quentin. He’s married to Antoinette. They have two children, a boy, Neville, who is eight, and a girl, Lisette, who's seven. Who knows, perhaps they might need a governess one day soon? The woman they have now is fine for the moment, but she is rather old and cranky," Lucien said with a laugh.

"Well, perhaps. That would be a wonderful chance for me. I'd love to go back to Donegal, of course. But at the same time, there might be all sorts of opportunities for me in the city if I work hard."

She looked so earnest and innocent, he didn't dare remind her that there would also be plenty of opportunities for women who didn't wish to pursue manual labors…

"Tell me about your family," he requested, leaning back against the leather seat as he continued to gaze at her exquisite face.