Enticing Miss Eugenie Villaret (4 page)

The three of them took care in descending the step street, moving as silently as possible. Whether it was due to the water surrounding the island or something else, sound traveled quickly here. After reaching Dronningens Gade, Eugénie, Cicely, and Josh hugged the sides of the buildings, keeping to the shadows. Soon they reached the long rectangular warehouses that stretched to the waterfront. Each building was separated from its neighbor by a narrow alley. Fire hazards, Papa had called them. He was the first to build his warehouse of brick and add a second floor. Finally, they reached the one where the door to Wivenly Imports was located.

“How did you get the key?” Cicely whispered.

“I took the chance that Maman had forgotten to take it out of Papa’s desk. Now hush. We cannot risk anyone hearing us.”

She turned in to the pitch-black alley where the entrance was located. Even the stars couldn’t penetrate the dark here. Eugénie ran her fingers along the stucco-finished wall until she came to the raised edge of a doorway. “Josh, unshutter the lantern just a bit. I need to see the lock.”

A narrow beam of light twisted and turned until it stopped on the door. Eugénie carefully pulled the ring of keys from her cloak pocket, trying to keep them from clinking, and began trying the ones most likely to fit. The only sound was her breathing and the roar of her heart pounding in her ears. Her hands were suddenly damp as the sound of the lock clicking back seemed much louder than it probably was.

The door swung open on well-oiled hinges. “Come, quickly.”

Cicely swept past, followed by Josh. Eugénie closed the door.

Her friend took the lantern from the footman. “Josh, you stay here.” The lantern swung around the room. “Where is it?”

“Upstairs.”

A few moments later they entered a plainly furnished outer office lined with shelves. Eugénie was thankful all the window shutters were tightly closed, and no light would seep through. “Now, where to begin?”

“Let’s start with the bank ledger dated right after your father died.” Cicely pulled off her gloves in a businesslike manner. “That should tell us when things started going wrong.”

Row upon row of thick record books filled the shelves. Eugénie had not realized how many there were. Would they be able to find what they needed in the short time they had? “Do you know what they look like?”

“Give me the light,” Cicely replied. “I’ll know when I see them.”

Eugénie handed over the lantern and watched, impressed by the way Cicely rapidly reviewed the books until she found what she wanted.

“This is it.” She carried two of the ledgers over to the desk, taking a seat behind it. “Let’s see what it tells me.”

Not knowing what else to do, Eugénie brought a small wooden chair over to sit next to her friend. An hour later, after reviewing the past six months’ worth of ledgers, she rubbed her eyes. “None of this makes sense. The company is doing even better than before. Why would—”

“Well, well,” came a deep voice from the door. “What have we here?”

Eugénie’s heart dropped to her toes, then immediately jumped into her throat. It was the man she’d run into yesterday. While she struggled to speak, Cicely turned her big blue eyes on the man’s companion. Was she actually going to flirt at a time like this? Eugénie opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out.

“I fear, sirs”—Cicely rose from her chair as smoothly as if she were at a ball—“you have us at a disadvantage.”

Good Lord
, she was going to get them killed. Eugénie rose so that she stood next to Cicely, and smoothed her hand down her skirts, ready to pull out her dagger if necessary. She might die, but not without a fight.

The dark-haired man bowed. “Mr. William Munford, at your service. This,” he said, indicating his companion, “is Mr. Andrew Grayson.”

Mr. Grayson bowed as well.

They waited, probably for her and Cicely to provide their names, but even Cicely wouldn’t go that far. When the two gentlemen came into the light, Eugénie identified the second man as the gentleman her friend had been mooning over yesterday.

Yet compared to Mr. Munford, Mr. Grayson was easily dismissed. In the darkened room, Mr. Munford was even more handsome than he’d been on the street, and the way he studied her made him appear more dangerous. The light from the lantern caught hints of gold in his brown hair, making them shine like Spanish coins.

She cleared the lump in her throat. “What are you doing here, and where is Josh?”

Mr. Munford raised a brow, and his mouth tightened into a thin line. “I assume by
Josh
, you mean the lad snoring downstairs by the door?”

She narrowed her eyes at Cicely, who shrugged as if it didn’t matter that their guard couldn’t stay awake and they were being accosted by two strange men.

“As to what we are doing here,” Mr. Munford continued, “I was called in to discover the status of the company.”

Eugénie took a deep breath. Could it be that help
had
arrived? “By whom?”

He speared her with an intent stare. “By Watford, of course. As head of the family, he is concerned about the welfare of Mrs. Wivenly and the children.”

“The Earl of Watford?”

“Naturally, who else?”

Her brief feeling of relief gave over to trepidation. She stifled the urge to groan. This only got worse. What if he went to her home? If Maman found out about her midnight trip—a shiver ran down her spine—it would be catastrophic. And Mr. Munford! He would discover her identity, and for some reason, aside from the probability he’d betray her to Maman, Eugénie knew that would be very bad indeed. She had to avoid any further meetings with him. Perhaps she and Cicely should leave the books to the men. That was assuming they would let her and Cicely go. How had they gotten into this mess, and what were they going to do about it?

“T
he Earl of Watford!”
Mrs. Villaret’s eyes had widened, and her breathing had quickened.

Until then, she had been holding up quite well. Yet for some reason Will’s disclosing that he represented the earl seemed to frighten her. But why? And what the devil was she doing here in the middle of the night, alone save for another female and a sleeping escort?

Her trepidation did not last more than a few moments. He was unable to keep his eyes off her as she straightened her shoulders and raised her chin as if preparing to do battle. He had to admire the fact that even though he’d caught her in someone else’s office and without protection, she was apparently not going to back down.

Andrew sidled up to the desk, placed a hand on the ledger, and turned it toward him. “Do you even know what you’re looking at?”

“Naturally, she does,” Mrs. Villaret replied forcefully.

She reminded Will of nothing less than a tigress protecting her cub.

The blonde huffed. “Of course I do.”

“All right then.” Andrew smiled. She smiled back. “What did you find?”

Mrs. Villaret drew her full bottom lip between small white teeth as she watched the scene playing out between Andrew and the other woman. The flame from the lantern highlighted her dark hair, revealing streaks of deep red. He wished he could tell how long it was, but her hair was pulled back from her forehead and done up in braids pinned around her head. He had an overwhelming desire to take them down and run his fingers through her long tresses. The bodice of her gown rose and fell more rapidly than was normal. Which again begged the question: Was it the fear of being in the room with two unknown men, or of what Andrew would discover when he inspected the books?

Mrs. Villaret gave an imperceptible shake of her head. “Not what we expected to learn.”

“All the finances appear to be in order.” The blonde twisted her lips ruefully.

Andrew raised a brow. “And that’s a problem?”

The blonde raised a brow of her own. “Yes. It means someone is lying to Mrs. Wivenly about the company’s finances.”

“In your opinion.” Andrew’s tone was as dry as dust.

“To our certain knowledge.” Mrs. Villaret’ s chin rose, yet her voice remained low. “It is a small community. I am acquainted with the family.”

“Yes.” The blonde nodded. “We are here to help Mrs. Wivenly and her family.”

Will took three steps forward, bringing himself only inches from Mrs. Villaret. He didn’t touch her. His size and proximity would be intimidation enough. He’d discover what the devil was going on with the two women if it was the last thing he did. “Who asked you to intervene?”

“Mrs. Wivenly is very timid when it comes to commerce.” A defiant spark came into Mrs. Villaret’ s eyes, and her jaw firmed. “Someone had to help her.”

Damn if he didn’t admire her strength. Most women would have cowered or fled. “Show me.”

She remained standing as the English woman resumed her seat and slid the ledger back in front of her. “Look at this.”

Andrew leaned over her shoulder, peering down at the accounts. After a moment, he sat in the chair Mrs. Villaret had abandoned.

While the other woman and Andrew delved deeper into the books, Will decided to further his acquaintance with Mrs. Villaret. He may as well start his pursuit of her immediately. “How do you know the Wivenly family?”

She flicked a glance toward her friend, then back to him. “As I told you, it is a small community.”

He stepped forward and she retreated, attempting to put distance between them, but that wasn’t what Will wanted. The chase was on. He followed until her back hit the wall, and her eyes widened with the shock of realizing she had nowhere to go. “Who asked you to investigate?”

Beneath her dark purple gown, her breasts heaved with what he hoped was lust and not fear. Damn, he wanted her, and when she was his, she wouldn’t wear out-of-date clothing that would be better off in a rag bin. The contrast between the other female, who was obviously a lady of means, and Mrs. Villaret was striking. She was clearly much less affluent. Another problem he could remedy. All he needed to do was overcome any hesitation she might have in becoming his mistress.

“There is something missing,” Andrew said, interrupting Will’s ruminations.

“Yes,” Mrs. Villaret’s companion agreed. “What would the manager have shown Mrs. Wivenly if she’d asked for proof of the company’s decline?”

Mrs. Villaret adroitly slipped away from him. “I’ll search the other room.”

Will took a step toward her and the door. “I’ll help you.”

“Non!”
She bit off the word, glaring at him for a moment, warning him away. “It will be quicker if I do it myself. I know the office.”

Had she been his uncle’s mistress? Before he could follow, Andrew called him over.

“Search the shelves for books that look like these. They should be exact duplicates, except the numbers in the columns will be lower.”

Will glanced quickly at the door to the other room. Every part of him screamed out to follow her. To have her alone with him. To know why she didn’t want him in the office with her. Hell and damnation. He’d have to wait.

Eugénie fled to her father’s office, closed the door, leaned back against the solid wood panels, and waited for her heart to slow.
Mon Dieu
. Occasionally other men had looked at her like Mr. Munford did, but she’d never before truly understood what the look meant. Nor had she been even remotely tempted to respond, and Papa had always been there to warn them away. Eugénie didn’t know very much about what went on between a man and a woman, but she knew enough to understand Mr. Munford was dangerous.

She could still feel the heat from his large body as he’d hovered over her. He both attracted and terrified her. What was it about him that made her heart thud in her chest and her lips want to meet his?

Even if he was interested in marriage, nothing could come of it. She’d never be allowed to make a misalliance by marrying one whose breeding was inferior to hers. After all, he was only an agent, and she was the granddaughter of a count and a viscount. Yet something about him gave her the impression marriage was not his intent, and that was far worse.

Maman, and even Marisole, had told Eugénie that her coloring was too dark, and perhaps it was time she paid more attention to her garments, or she’d not look as a lady should. Mayhap she had been allowed too much freedom from what Papa had called “the strictures of Polite Society.” Was that what fascinated Mr. Munford? It mattered not. Eugénie had to stay away from him for her own peace of mind, as well as the preservation of her virtue. She gave herself a shake. She would give her reaction to him and how to combat it more thought later. Now she needed to see what could be found in the office.

Using her hands as guides, she felt her way around Papa’s desk to the drawer where he kept the tinderbox. Giving thanks it was still there, she extracted a wood splint and lit it, in turn igniting the oil lamp. Hunting through the unlocked drawers, she found nothing. She took the keys out, fitting the smaller ones to the one locked cabinet located under the windows behind the desk. Finally, it slid open. A journal stood next to a half-filled bottle of brandy. She withdrew the diary, took it to the desk, and opened it to the first page.

Maman had become so distraught at Mr. Howden’s suggestion she sell the company that she’d taken to her bed for over a week. Eugénie skipped ahead a couple of weeks to when the first of the bad news came.

Eugénie’s hands trembled in rage. How could Mr. Howden even consider such a thing? Papa had always treated him well, and the family needed him. Flipping to August, she found the first entry.

Eugénie frowned. That was not precisely true. Grandmamma wanted Eugénie’s brother, Benet, to spend the summer with her before he started his first term at school, but the earl had offered as well. More importantly, Howden must think her family was alone in the world. Apparently he did not know the Earl of Watford was a trustee. Her mother had asked that the reports on the business be sent to him. How was it possible Howden had not made the connection? Her pulse raced with anger. How dare he attempt to take advantage of Maman?
Fripouille!

She closed the diary. After placing everything else back where it belonged, she extinguished the light, then opened one of the windows and its shutter for a moment to allow the smell of burning oil to lessen.

The moon hung in the night sky, surrounded by thousands of stars casting a path over the water, where ships’ lights bobbed, adding to the illumination. One day she would most likely be forced to leave. Would the next place she lived be as lovely?

“It’s captivating,” a deep voice said softly.

Eugénie’s hand flew to her chest as her heart jumped into her throat. “Mr. Munford, you should not sneak up on a person.”

His breath fluttered over the back of her neck. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Scare her half to death, more like, and now her body wanted to lean back against him. She held herself rigid. It would not do to let him know how he affected her. “I was not afraid, merely startled.”

“You’ve been in here for a long time.” His voice was low, almost mesmerizing, as if it called to her, wanting to capture her somehow.

One of his fingers traced the line of her shoulder, lighting fires along her skin that she didn’t know how to extinguish—or whether she wanted to.

What was he doing to her? This was madness. Eugénie struggled to think of anything to say. “I found Mr. Howden’s diary.”

“Diary?” He dropped his hand, leaving her somehow bereft. “Is it interesting?”

She turned to face him.
“Oui.”

Mr. Munford’s presence was almost too much to bear. It made her want to do
things
she didn’t even understand. Skirting around the man, Eugénie grabbed the book and strode quickly to the other room.

When she reached the desk, Cicely and Mr. Grayson were still poring over ledgers. “I found Mr. Howden’s personal journal. It explains in great detail what he is doing.”

Mr. Grayson took the diary, flipped to the last date and sucked in a breath.

“What is it?” Drat, why hadn’t she thought to read that one herself ?

His lips formed a thin line. “Not something even close friends of the family should be apprised of.”

It took all her control, really she was amazed at how much she had, not to declare herself and snatch the journal from his hands. “Will you take it?”

“No.” He shook his head. “Howden posts entries too often. I shall make notes and hope that we’ll be able to access it the next time we need to.”

Mr. Grayson’s calm good sense acted as a balm on Eugénie’s nerves. She might not trust his friend, but she knew Mr. Grayson would do her no harm.

Right now the most important thing was to remove herself from Mr. Munford’s presence. “It is late. My friend and I must go home.”

“We’ll escort you.” Mr. Munford’s voice was soft and hard at the same time. He was definitely a man who was not accustomed to being gainsaid.

Her nemesis came to stand beside her, bringing with him all that male energy that she so unwillingly responded to. She calculated the chances of avoiding him. They were not good. “As you wish.”

Cicely stood, causing Mr. Grayson to shoot to his feet. “I’m tired as well. Poor Josh, we’ll have to wake him.”

“He’ll get up fast enough,” Mr. Grayson growled, “with my boot in his behind.”

“Oh, you would not be so unkind!” Cicely’s eyes twinkled with mirth. “He’s just a boy.”

“He is a lad”—his frown deepened—“old enough to know better than fail in his duty to protect you.”

Eugénie’s jaw almost dropped. Cicely had done it again. Mr. Grayson was as much a captive to her charm as every other man. Except, however, Mr. Munford, who, for some reason Eugénie didn’t understand, had attached himself to her. Suddenly his smile was too broad and showed too many white teeth to bode well for poor Josh.

“I definitely think,” Mr. Munford said with a cheerfulness Eugénie didn’t trust, “the young man could use a lesson in not falling asleep on the job.”

Mon Dieu
. Save her from protective males. “You will not hurt him. He was very brave to accompany us.”

“The lad may have been brave, my dear”—Mr. Munford moved behind her as he spoke—“but how safe would you have been if it had been two scoundrels that came upon an open door?”

Her whole back tingled with his nearness. She couldn’t stand this much longer. His hand hovered for a moment at the nape of her neck. Then he touched her curls. Sparks flew through her as his caress followed down her spine to the top of her derrière. What would the man have done if they were alone? Already he touched her as if she was his.
Seigneur
, she had to escape him.

Eugénie tried to step away from Munford, but he held her in place by gripping her waist. “I must replace the journal.” She wrenched herself from him and grabbed Cicely’s hand. “Come with me, please.”