The Seduction (18 page)

A feeling of triumph swept over her, a feeling so intense, so euphoric, that it made her dizzy. For the first time in her sheltered life, Margaret felt as if she'd done something important, something truly worthwhile. "Trevor, I did it."

If she expected praise, she was disappointed. "Let's get out of here," he said and stepped over the thief to take the stick from her grasp. Tossing it aside, he grabbed her hand and started out of the alley. It wasn't until they had once again merged into the tumultuous crowd in the plaza that he slowed his pace and finally came to a halt.

Breathing hard, Margaret stopped beside him. "Thank goodness," she gasped. "Are you hurt?" She looked up at him and saw the bruise already forming on his cheek. She reached up to touch his face, but he pushed her hand away. "You are hurt!"

"It's no more than I deserve for trying to play the hero. I should have known better." He touched his throbbing cheek. "And I thought I told you to stay by the tavern."

"I thought you might need some help."

"What if he'd seen you behind him in that alley? He could have grabbed you and used you as leverage to make an escape."

"I didn't stop to think about that," she admitted. "Anyway, he didn't get the chance." Trevor continued to glower at her, and she said, "I wouldn't change a thing. It was so exciting!"

He let out an exasperated breath and reached into his pocket. Pulling out her purse, he took her by the wrist with his free hand and slapped the small leather bag into her palm. "From now on, leave your money at home."

"I will," she vowed. "I swear."

"Don't make any promises unless you're going to keep them, Maggie," he muttered and turned away. He began walking back toward Edward's townhouse. Margaret fell in step beside him. During the short walk, he said nothing, and she found his silence unnerving.

When they reached Edward's garden, Trevor did not linger with her as he had the night before. "It's getting late," he said tersely. "You'd best go in."

He turned to leave, and she knew she couldn't let him go without giving him an apology.

"I'm sorry if you're angry with me," she burst out. "But I was only trying to help."

He paused with his hand on the gate. "I know."

"It's just that I've never come to anyone's rescue before. It may seem silly to you, but for the first time in my life, I feel as if I’ve done something truly worthwhile."

He looked over at her and studied her for a long moment. "I suppose that makes sense," he allowed, "in a crazy kind of way. But that isn't really the point, is it?"

She bit her lip and stared down at the grass beneath her feet. "No, I suppose not."

Trevor walked over to her and reached beneath her chin to lift her face. "If anything like this happens again, stay out of the way and let me handle it. I'm supposed to be
your
bodyguard, remember?" His hand slid to her cheek. "You could have been hurt."

He felt the change in her, a sudden expectancy. She moved closer, looking up at him in clear anticipation of a kiss.

Patience,
he reminded himself, and did not give her the sort of kiss she was silently asking for. Instead, he pressed his lips to her forehead and said, "You must go in."

"It isn't that late," she pointed out, a note of consternation in her voice that made him want to smile.

"Late enough. I have a business matter to attend to."

"Business? At this hour?"

"Some of the business I do involves skulking about in the wee small hours."

"It sounds wickedly intriguing, and I suspect there are Egyptian artifacts involved. Can I come with you?"

"I'm afraid not. This sort of adventure is best done alone."

Her face fell. "Won't you tell me what you're up to?" When he shook his head again, she added hopefully, "Not even' a hint?"

"No."

She placed her hands on her hips and sighed. "Do you realize that I find you the most exasperating man I've ever met?"

"I'm quite gratified to hear that." He disappeared amidst the dark shrubbery of the garden, leaving her to wonder exactly what he meant by that enigmatic comment.

The tavern was dark, lit only by a few small lamps and filled with the thick, blue haze of cigar smoke. It was also crowded, and it took Trevor several moments to find the man he sought. When their eyes met, the muscular Italian seated at a table in the corner gave a slight nod and gestured to the empty chair opposite his. Trevor approached the table and took the offered seat.

"You're late," the man said.

"I was unavoidably detained." Trevor reached for the bottle of wine on the table and poured himself a glass.

"Ah, yes. I saw the lady. I suppose I must forgive you. With such a bountiful figure, she could pass for an Italian woman at a distance. I admire your taste in women, my friend, but she is not what I would have expected of an Englishman. Most of your English ladies are far too thin."

"She's not English," Trevor answered, ignoring the other man's baiting smile. "Following me, Emilio? Sending notes demanding secret meetings? What is all this?"

"I heard you were in Rome and I decided to renew our acquaintance. I thought you might need some help."

"Help with what?"

"I heard from some of our friends in Cairo that Lucci is looking for you," Emilio answered.

"Is he?" Trevor was not surprised. "What else have you heard?"

"You stole a valuable Egyptian necklace from him, I believe."

"Lucci stole it from me first."

Emilio sighed and shook his head. "That was not wise, my friend. You know how ruthless Lucci can be. He'd kill you without a second thought."

Trevor shrugged and took a sip of wine. "He never has before. Besides, I fail to see your concern in this matter."

Emilio gave him an injured look. "After all we've been through over the years, you expect me to stand by and do nothing when I hear that your life is in danger?"

Trevor flashed the other man a sardonic grin.

"Spare me the pretended concern and tell me the truth."

"As I said, I heard you were in Rome. I also heard that you are retiring from the business."

"My, my, news does travel fast." He leaned back, studying the man across the table. "C'mon, Emilio. What are you after?"

"You have many contacts, my friend, contacts that would be very valuable to me. I was hoping—"

"You want the names of my buyers," Trevor finished for him.

"They are of little use to you now. An English earl does not smuggle antiquities. Besides, with your contacts added to mine, I would run Lucci out of business, and that would please you enormously, I'm sure."

"You expect that to be a good enough reason for me to give them to you?"

"Not give," Emilio corrected. "I am prepared to pay for them."

"Well, that's a first. How much?"

"That depends on what we decide they are worth. Why don't you give me a price?"

Trevor wasn't prepared to move that fast. He hadn't thought of selling his list, and he wanted time to decide how much it was worth. He drained the wine in his glass and shoved back his chair. "I'll think about it and let you know."

"When?"

"When I've made a decision."

With that, he rose to his feet and departed, leaving Emilio to finish the bottle of wine alone.

"How noble, how chivalrous
of you!" Lady Sally declared, gazing with fervent admiration at the handsome man standing before her. "Coming to the rescue of a poor, defenseless woman. Facing down those two thieves in a dark alley all alone. Why, Lord Ashton, you are truly the bravest man I've ever met."

And the English say we Americans gush too much,
Margaret thought. She glanced at Trevor, who was accepting the fulsome praise with a nonchalance that only served to increase her annoyance.

He was smiling at the petite and delicate blonde, who had no idea just how ridiculous she looked with that rapturous expression on her face. Her pale lashes were fluttering so rapidly, Margaret wanted to ask if she had something in her eye.

"It was nothing, really," Trevor said in an attempt at modesty that Margaret thought wouldn't fool anyone.

"Come now," Edward interjected, giving him an approving slap on the back. "Lady Sally is quite right. That was a very brave thing you did, saving a peasant woman's purse and getting a black eye for your trouble. It was probably all the money she had in the world."

Trevor shook his head in a dismissive way and, to Margaret's relief, changed the subject. "So, Lord Lytton, tell me, when you take up your seat in the House this June, what do you think will be the ramifications of last year's Land Act?"

The conversation switched to politics, and Margaret turned away, murmuring something about refilling her glass. Talk of the Land Act would lead to talk of cheap American wheat and how the Americans were to blame for British economic woes. She was in no mood to hear it.

As she made her way to the punch table, Sally followed her. "Excellent idea, Margaret," she said, falling into step beside her as they made their way across the crowded drawing room. "Politics are so dull, don't you think? Whenever the men start to discuss such things, I know I'm in over my head."

Not a difficult circumstance, Margaret thought. If the discussion did not involve fashion, gossip, or the weather, Sally was hopelessly lost. But she smiled politely for Cornelia's sake.

At the punch table, they found Agnes, and Margaret was grateful that she would not have to endure Sally's company on her own. "Agnes, how lovely to see you. Are you enjoying Carnival?"

"Yes, indeed. We've had so much fun, haven't we, Sally?"

But her sister wasn't paying attention. Instead, her gaze was fixed on the man across the room. "Lord Ashton is quite a man, isn't he?" she said with a dreamy sigh. "So handsome. He's called on us twice since Carnival began, hasn't he, Agnes?"

Margaret was stunned. "He's called on you twice?" She glanced at Agnes for confirmation, and the dark- haired girl nodded.

Sally turned to them, her eyes sparkling. "I think he has formed an attachment to me," she confessed in a whisper. "He might even offer for me in London, once the Season begins."

Margaret took a sip of punch, trying to contain her growing outrage. Trevor had told her he wasn't interested in marriage, but Sally seemed to have the impression that he was. Either he was toying with Sally, or he was toying with Margaret. She was beginning to see how the man had won his reputation. She decided to remind Sally of that. "Given his reputation," she said in a calm voice that belied her inner feelings, "would Ashton make a good husband?"