An Accidental Seduction (13 page)

“H
ello,” Sean said, and stepped fully into the jeweler’s shop. Dammit, he hadn’t intended for her to come
here.
Indeed, he had been entirely uninformed about this store’s presence.

Glancing about, he couldn’t immediately see Clarette, and for reasons completely unknown to him, that made his heart race rather oddly in his too constricted chest. “I’m looking for a woman.”

The man behind the counter was as lean as a hickory stick and only half as charming. “You and most of the pinks in Londonderry,” he said, and barely sparing a glance from his narrow spectacles, went back to polishing a ring he’d lifted from beneath the counter.

“This is a particular woman,” Sean said, and kept his tone light with some difficulty. “She entered just a bit ago looking for a gift for her husband.”

“So you’re looking for another man’s wife, are you?” asked the other, but Sean’s nerves were surprisingly
frayed and he found he had no wish to trade either barbs or witticisms.

“Where is she?” he asked simply, but the other shrugged his sharp-boned shoulders.

“No generous wife has been here this afternoon,” he said, and stepped out from behind the counter.

Sean scowled. What went on here? He had watched Clarette enter this very shop. “She’s a handsome woman,” he said, sure that if he explained, things would be set right, “with—”

“I didn’t think you’d be searching for a homely woman.” The jeweler glanced down his nose. “Your type seldom is. Now if you’ll excuse me…” he said, and turned away, but Sean caught his arm and turned him back around.

“Her hair is dark and her gown lavender.”

The proprietor pursed his lips. “What are
you,
then?” he asked, eyeing Sean’s humble attire with distaste. “A seducer or a thief? For you’re surely not the one who gave her those stones?”

Sean’s breath caught tight in his throat. Something was happening here, and he didn’t like the feel of it. Did Clarette have his mother’s ring after all, or were they talking about something else entirely? “What stones?”

The proprietor gazed owlishly down at him. “Unless you were ignorant of their value.”

“What stones?” Sean asked again.

The jeweler laughed, but the tone was tinny and peeved. “The ones she’ll receive a fortune for from someone else.”

“When did she leave?” His mind was spinning, and though he knew he should be concerning himself with his mother’s property, he couldn’t bear the thought of Clarette in danger. This was no place for a lady to be walking unescorted. He should have known better than to allow her to go alone. But he’d had no desire to be recognized by those on Oxford Street. Dammit! How had he missed her exodus? “Where’d she go from here?”

“I can’t imagine. I’m the only jeweler in the entirety of this city,” said the other, and turned again, but this time Sean caught him by his starchy cravat.

“Tell me which way she went,” he gritted, and tightened his grip, constricting the other’s scrawny throat.

“Very well. Ease up,” the man croaked. “She turned right, then took a right at the corner.”

“My thanks,” Sean rasped, and turning rapidly, sprinted toward Smith’s Ornaments.

A little bell tinkled. Mrs. Fellowhurst glanced up.

“Where is Lady Tilmont?” His voice sounded odd, harsh and strained.

“Mister—” she began, but he stopped her.

“A beautiful woman,” he said. “Lavender gown, dark hair.”

“Is she in trouble?”

“She hasn’t returned to the carriage.”

She didn’t ask more. Instead, she nodded quickly. “That way,” she said, pointing to the left. “Some minutes ago. Are you quite—”

He was out the door in an instant. The light was fading. Reaching the cross streets, he slowed to glance right. An old man was sweeping the cobblestones. To the left a gray-haired gentleman in a tidy top hat glanced his way. Their eyes met for just a moment and then he stepped into a nearby alley.

Sean was running before he thought, sprinting down the walkway toward the alley. “You! You there!” he called, but the man didn’t step back into view. Tearing down the uneven path, Sean careened to the left, and there, not forty strides away, two men were bending over a prostrate form. He slowed, breathing hard, lungs tight in his chest, heart hammering a threatening beat.

“If you’ve hurt her, I’ll kill you.” His words sounded even and matter-of-fact in the still alleyway.

The smaller of the two men straightened and raised his hands. “Not to worry, friend,” he said. “She seems to have fainted. We mean no harm.”

But Sean saw the other man was crouching over her, touching her shoulder as if he meant to turn her onto her back, and in his other oversized hand he held a knife. Something contracted in Sean’s gut, but he kept walking.
“Leave now,” he ordered, “And you may have a chance to see the dawn.”

“We’ve no wish for trouble,” said the fellow with the hat. The other man straightened to his full height. He filled the alley like a tidal wave, seeming to rise forever.

Sean swore in silence and glanced about for a weapon, but in that second all hell broke loose. One moment their victim was flat on her back, head lolling to the side, and the next she was hurtling through the air like a loosed wagon wheel. Her heels struck the giant in the jaw. He staggered back, arms flung to the side. But she was already on her feet. Somehow, her assailant’s knife had miraculously disappeared.

The two miscreants stared at her for several seconds, and then they turned, fleeing down the alley like scurrying rats.

For a moment Clarette remained just as she was, slightly bent, but finally she hugged herself as if chilled. Then she straightened with an audible sigh and turned.

She stopped abruptly when she saw him. “What are you doing here?”

He blinked and glanced behind him. Was this a dream? A nightmare? A ridiculous play of some sort? “I was…I was looking for you.” Indeed, he had come to defend her, he thought, and found his manly behavior of moments before rather silly suddenly.

“How long have you been there?” she asked.

It felt as though he had stepped onto the stage of a nonsensical drama. “Not long.” He made a face, gave a shrug. Why not play along? he thought. The world had obviously gone mad. “Just long enough to see you attack the two thugs who accosted you.”

For a moment it almost seemed as if she swore, but she was already striding toward him with purpose and composure. “Whatever are you talking about?”

“Well…” He glanced about, vaguely wondering if someone was enjoying this odd performance. “I believe I was talking about the thugs who attacked you. The ones who—”

“Someone attacked me?” she rasped, and stopping even with him, raised her left hand to her throat. It almost seemed to be shaking.

He stared at her point-blank. “What’s happening here, Clarette?”

“I don’t…” She glanced behind, her voice suddenly bewildered, her expression the same. “I was walking along.” Keeping her left hand by her throat, she lifted the right wistfully. “I had just left the jeweler, I believe. And suddenly…” She gasped, brought her outreached hand to her bosom. “Everything must have gone black because I don’t seem to remember anything after that. I…” She lifted a fragile hand toward her brow. “Oh. You don’t suppose it was—” she began, and fainted.

Sean watched her tumble gracefully to the ground, watched her lie there. For a moment he remained exactly as he was, brows raised. Perhaps he was waiting for the second act. He wasn’t certain, but when she didn’t rise, he bent over her.

“Clarette?”

She didn’t answer.

“Lady Tilmont?” He lifted her hand to feel for a pulse. But gloves covered her from elbow to fingertip. He began to peel off the right one. She moaned then, tugged her hand from his grip and blinked open her eyes.

He settled back on his heels, not sure if he should applaud or escape while he still had a modicum of wits about him.

“Where am I?” Her voice was little-girl soft.

“England.”

She scowled a little, already looking peeved.

“London. An alley,” he corrected, because who could tell? Maybe she really
had
fainted.

Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Why?”

He shook his head. There was no possible way he could be more confused, but he was certain of one thing: “Not to buy your husband a gift.”

“What?” she asked, and pressed her fingertips to her skull.

He considered questioning her, but this didn’t seem the proper place. And there was probably no point. “Can you rise?”

“I don’t know. I—” She paused and closed her eyes for an instant. “What happened?”

“I’m hoping you’ll tell me,” he said, and scooping her into his arms, rose to his feet.

“What are you doing?”

“Carrying you,” he said, and strode toward the carriage.

“You can’t carry me, I’m—”

“Heavy?” He was beginning to pant a little. She wasn’t a big girl, but she was no wilting flower either.

“No!”

“Strange?”

“Put me down!”

Frozen images of the past few harrowing minutes were flying through his mind like frightened crows. “A hell of an actress?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was attacked.” Her head wobbled a little. “Wasn’t I?”

“I have no bloody idea,” he said, and, finally reaching the carriage, shifted her onto the seat.

Mrs. Edwards awoke with a start. “Oh, there you are, my dear. Is it time for dinner yet?”

“I’m afraid we must return to Knoll—”

“Not tonight,” Sean interrupted.

“What are you talking about?” Clarette asked, but he was already striding around to the far side of the carriage.

“We’ll get a meal and a place to stay for the night near here.” The tilbury tilted as he settled on the far side of their chaperone.

“Are you daft? I am—”

“Very probably,” he said, and set the mare into motion.

Clarette gripped the seat abruptly and stifled a wince. Sean gritted his teeth and swore in silence. Whatever had happened, she truly was hurt. And it was his fault.

That thought gnawed at his guts, tightening his hands on the reins and searing his mind until he finally tugged Daisy to a halt in front of an inn. It was a humble establishment made of stucco and brick, but the exterior looked solid and the walkway was free of debris. Stepping from the carriage, he strode inside. A scrawny girl of twelve or so was cleaning a table.

“Have you a room to let for the night?” he asked.

She stared at him a second, eyes wide. “Yes sir. We do, sir.”

“And what of a meal? Can we get that, too?”

“Certainly,” she said. “If I have to fix it meself, sir.”

“Very good. Thank you,” he said, and hurried outside. Clarette, or whoever the hell she was, was scowling at him. “We’ll be staying here for the night,” he told her.

Her scowl turned to a glare. “Did something happen to Prinny?”

He stared at her, a thousand worries scurrying through
his mind at her nonsensical words. “Did you hit your head?”

“I was simply wondering if the Prince Regent may have died and put you in charge.”

He almost laughed. In fact, he would have if she wasn’t so damned heavy, because he was already lifting her out of the carriage.

“Holy hell,” she hissed. “Not again.”

“Yes again,” he said, and marched her through the doors. The girl was still there, staring with wide eyes. “The lady needs a room,” he said. “She’s been injured.”

“I’m fine,” she argued.

“You’re not,” he said.

“I’ve…I’ve got a room at the top of the stairs,” stuttered the girl.

Top of the stairs. Of course. He glanced up. The steps seemed to go on forever. “Lead on,” he said, and rose laboriously to the aviary.

By the time Clarette and Mrs. Edwards were settled, Sean felt somewhat relieved. For a moment he had considered housing them in the same room, but Clarette’s head seemed to hurt when she was jostled, and a woman of Mrs. Edwards’s size could do a lot of jostling. Thus, he ordered meals for all three of them and insisted that the baroness’s be sent to her bedchamber.

“I don’t understand,” Mrs. Edwards said, pausing
between mouthfuls of pigeon pie as she and Sean ate in the common room. The cream colored satin of her wide tiered skirt had ingested the chair upon which she sat. “What happened?”

“I’m not entirely certain,” he said, and pushed his own meal to the center of the inn’s scarred table.

“What’s that?” she asked, tilting her head toward him.

He scowled, thoughts scampering in a thousand directions. “There may have been foul play,” he mused.

“Yes, the fowl is quite good,” she said, and scowled, still masticating. “But what of Lady Tilmont?”

He raised his voice. “I believe she may have…” He paused; several people had turned toward him. “I think she fainted,” he said.

“Sainted? Yes, she is quite nice. Not at all the harridan people think her to—”

“Fainted!”
Sean corrected, his usual calm shattered.

“Ahh, fainted. Why didn’t you say so. Yes, of course. I see. Well…” She took a slurp of wine. “She’s such a tiny thing. But a good meal will set her right. Unless…” She froze, fork halfway to her mouth.

Sean stared at her, stomach twisted with worry. Not much made Mrs. Edwards quit eating. “What?”

“You don’t suppose she’s…” She canted her head in an oddly girlish manner.

Sean scowled.

“You don’t suppose she’s…” Her whisper was as loud as thunder. “…in the family way.”

“In the—” Fook it all. Pregnant? He hadn’t thought of that. Hadn’t even
considered
that. But wait a minute. He was beginning to believe his own idiotic stories. She’d been attacked, not overcome by the vapors. Hadn’t she? True, the man with the top hat said they wished her no harm, but what was he
apt
to say?
We’ve clonked her over the head and now intend to rob her blind and perhaps kill her for sport?

“Oh!” Mrs. Edwards clapped her chubby hands. “Wouldn’t Lord Tilmont be pleased?” she crooned, and the day went from bad to miserable.