Moondrops (Love Letters) (3 page)

“By all means, Henry. Please, see the woman in. Then, bring a tea tray. It may be quite a visit. We should fortify ourselves, I think.”

****

Since she had no expectations about what might greet her when she arrived at her destination, Elise was neither overjoyed nor dismayed by the façade of the Coventry Garden address. A tall, redbrick building with black shutters and a flat slate roof, it blended into the rest of the houses that lined the cobblestone lane. Had it not been for the wrought iron numbers affixed to the brickwork beside the front door, she would not have recognized it as the place she had traveled so far to see. Number 247 did not stand out or draw attention to itself in any manner, something she took as a good omen.

Before she rapped the black doorknocker, Elise pulled her best white linen handkerchief from her reticule. It was, in fact, her one linen handkerchief and she had only come by it because the scrap of linen, a cutting remaining from a dress they had fashioned for the vicar’s daughter, was too small to be turned into a full-sized hanky. Had it been bigger, the scrap would have been embroidered and sold in her mother’s shop—to the vicar’s greedy daughter, probably. However, it had not been large and now, as her brow glistened, Elise was grateful to have it. Even the smallest bit of tidying up was better than nothing.

Walking the four blocks from the carriage stop had not dusted her hem too badly. Or so she hoped. Even if it had, there was no help for it.

She didn’t plan to remain in London, not even overnight. Of course she had the barest necessities with her in the event she couldn’t learn the details of the letter before the day was lost but she hoped uncovering whatever she was meant to find out would take no longer than an hour. Perhaps two, at most. The cost of lodging at an inn was something she wished to avoid, even if it meant jostling back to Essex in a night coach.

She gave her skirt a brisk swish to shake out the worst of its wrinkles. Then, she knocked.

It took but a moment for a uniformed butler to appear. If it wasn’t such an outlandish notion she would have guessed he stood, ready and waiting, on the other side of the door for just such a knock to sound.

“Yes? May I help you, miss?” If he was startled by her sudden appearance, he gave no hint, as if travel-worn young women showed up on the stoop all day long.

“I…” Now that she was here, she was not sure how to begin. There had been adequate time to consider the task in the coach but she had not formulated a plan. Yet. And with the butler staring askance at her, she was tongue-tied.

“Yes?” A gentle prod, but a prod, nonetheless.

“A letter. I, ah, received a letter from this address. It said to come—here, that is.” Every word she spoke sounded like an idiot’s ramblings, even to her own ears. Imagine what the butler must think! Straightening her shoulders, Elise took a deep breath and forced a reasonable tone into her words. “I am here to see whoever lives here, if you please. I am the recipient of a missive which indicated I was to visit this address—” She glanced at the numbers beside the doorframe once more, just to be sure she wasn’t explaining to the wrong butler. She wasn’t. “Right. I was told, in the letter, to present myself here. So, if you would announce my presence.”

“Certainly, miss. Please, come inside and wait right here while I tell Ma—ahem, while I announce you.”

The foyer was grander than Elise expected. A thick Oriental rug muffled the man’s footsteps and hers as well as she followed him inside. A discreet nod indicated where she should sit, so Elise took a spot on a low maroon velvet settee placed against the wall beside the door. It was comfortable, so she smiled her appreciation. Seemingly satisfied she was settled, the man nodded, turned on a highly polished black heel and strode down a long hallway. Again, he was as silent as the wind.

Only a moment passed before his return. “They are waiting in the parlor. May I take your coat? Your hat?” He waited while she removed her outer traveling garments, then took them and hung them on a tree stand behind the front door. Elise barely had time to pat her curls into place before he said, “This way, please.”

This time, she followed him. He did not pause when he walked through a wide doorway into a small sitting room so she didn’t, either. Unfortunately, she followed so closely on his heels that when he stopped she nearly barreled into his back.

Not the most polished way to make an entrance, she thought as her cheeks grew warm.

“The young lady with the letter, Madam.” The butler gestured Elise further into the room, then turned and left.

Her heart gave an unexpected thump in her chest when she saw the tall, handsome man crossing the room to greet her. The kind of man every woman dreams of but most rarely meet, he moved with fluidity and grace that reminded Elise of a jungle cat. A very large jungle cat. He stood a full head taller than she did, and she was forced to tilt her head back to meet his gaze.

He inclined his head, reached an arm out and, without touching her, drew her into the room and over to the hearth. An older woman stood before a low chair close to a crackling fire. Elise noticed the sewing basket beside the chair and felt an instant connection to its owner.

“You have come. I hoped you would, my dear.” The woman stretched out her arms, grabbed Elise close and gave her a fast squeeze. It all happened in the blink of an eye, far too quickly to avoid the embrace.

Elise allowed it but straightened hurriedly.

Was it her imagination, or did a whiff of alcohol waft off the woman? Elise sniffed, as delicately as she could, but the moment was gone. She wasn’t close enough now to detect the scent of anything besides wood smoke, candle wax and lamp oil.

“You sent the letter?” Elise studied the woman. She looked to be about her mother’s age, but was far more primped and curled than Mother ever was. Clad entirely in black, her alabaster skin was luminous. A pair of violet eyes met her own inquisitive gaze.

“Of course I did. It seemed the only thing to do.”

The man came to life, his voice smooth and inviting. “We seem to have skipped a most important part of this meeting, haven’t we? We haven’t been properly introduced, and although we know who you are, Miss Fulbright, you probably don’t have the foggiest notion who we are. Do you?”

Looking at him and speaking to him were two distinctly separate propositions. While he waited for what felt like an age but was really only a few moments, Elise fought to compose her thoughts. How could a man she hadn’t even met get her so tongue-tied?

“Ah, no, actually. I don’t know who you are,” she finally managed to say. The words were spoken more softly than she intended, which brought his head closer to hers as he attempted to show proper attention and, presumably, hear her. She swallowed, and then in a louder tone said, “I don’t have any idea who you are or why I have been invited here. I don’t wish to be rude but I do have a time constraint so if we could move this meeting along I would be very grateful for the courtesy.”

A long moment of silence followed her request.

The man cleared his throat and she had the impression that he wanted to laugh. It was just a feeling, but it was a strong one. Elise knew she gauged his reaction correctly—especially when he spoke and she heard the amusement in his voice.

“Well, then, let’s not dither. I know it is not the epitome of propriety but since there is no one present better qualified to do so, let me introduce you to Emmaline Byrd. She is the owner of this building and the one who wrote the letter.”

Elise nodded, murmured a fast “Pleased to meet you” and was greeted with the same.

The second time Emmaline spoke, Elise’s suspicions were confirmed. The strong smell of alcohol accompanied the woman’s words.

“Let me introduce you, in turn, to my dear friend.” The man opened his mouth but she ignored him. “This dashing rake is none other than—”

He cut in, his voice louder than hers. “I am Hugh North. I am honored to finally meet you, Miss Fulbright.” When she would have nodded and exchanged a polite response, he reached out, took her right hand in his and, bending low, placed a kiss just above her knuckles.

Through her white, albeit a bit travel worn, gloves Elise felt the warmth of his lips. His boldness sent a bolt, like summer lightning in its sudden intensity, of excitement up her spine. She trembled, oh-so faintly.

She had never met a rake—at least she didn’t
think
she had—and the idea of being so close to one brought her natural curiosity to the surface. Questions swirled through her mind; ones she knew would never pass her lips. Still, she wondered how one with a reputation for drinking, gambling and, dear heavens, womanizing could appear so gentle and courteous?

“Are you chilled, Miss Fulbright?” He leaned close enough that she smelled the scent of his shaving lotion. A combination of spices she could not identify and the scent of a warm, male body infused the space between them.

“No, of course not,” she managed to squeak out. All the travel dust between home and here felt lodged in her throat. No amount of swallowing made the situation better. “Why do you ask?”

“I observed you shivering just now. It is a long journey and I daresay you might be hungry. If I were you, I would be famished by now. Come, sit and we’ll get you something to eat.”

“That’s not—”

As if on cue, her tummy took that very moment to rumble. Embarrassment heated her cheeks and she dared not finish what she had been about to say.

One raised eyebrow was his only response.

Distance between them, that’s what was needed. She took a step back, pulling her hand from his.

Now that the connection was broken, she wished to have it back. It made no sense.

He took her elbow as quickly as he had snatched her hand just a moment earlier. There was no time to react so when he steered her to the low sofa near the fireplace she fell into step beside him. A subtle push downward seated her.

The other woman trailed them, and then sat in a chair facing Elise. Her lips were closed tightly and she did not look inclined to speak anytime soon. How on earth was she going to discover the reason for the note when the one who wrote it looked unwilling to speak?

“Here we are.” Hugh took the teacart from the butler’s charge and wheeled it to a spot between the women. “Sustenance, something I think you need after your trip. Fortification, as well, for what is still to come. Our Miss Fulbright should be fortified, don’t you think, Emmaline? Otherwise, how will she cope with what you have to tell her?”

“You are spot-on, dear. If I were to get such news as I am about to divulge, I should want to be well fed first. So eat up, Miss Fulbright. You shall need your strength.” Another wave of boozy breath filled the air.

Leaning over the teacart and pouring from the teapot as efficiently as if he had been at it forever, Hugh turned to Elise and did the most unthinkable thing imaginable. He winked at her!

Again, she was caught off guard and stared at him. He lifted one cup and saucer, stirred in a spoonful of sugar and a splash of cream, and then handed it to their hostess.

“Drink up, Emmaline. It seems you might do with a bit of fortification, too.”

Chapter 3

They refused to divulge any matter of importance until after all the tea had been drunk and the last buttery scone consumed. Elise had tried, to no avail, to open a conversation regarding the letter more than once. Each time, she had been cut off as effectively as if the pair had an agreement.

Finally, Elise brushed her fingertips over the large starched white napkin covering her lap. Crumbs fell onto the fabric before she folded it in half, dabbed her lips, then laid it beside her saucer. Her cup, now empty, had a graceful floral scene hand-painted on its interior that would have caught her attention more completely had she not been so intent on learning the reason for her journey.

Time was fleeing and she was no closer to knowing why she had been called to London. If she didn’t wheedle the truth from her hosts soon she would be forced to stay at an inn she could ill afford.

The lightness of her purse, coupled with burning inquisitiveness, brought her straight to the point.

“Now that tea has been taken, I would like to know why I have been summoned here.”

Emmaline’s eyes grew round. She shot a look at the man and Elise instantly recalled her manners.

Hastily, she added, “The tea was scrumptious, absolutely delicious. I don’t mean to sound rude, but I meant it when I said I am fighting the clock. I cannot stay long. The last afternoon coach leaves for Essex shortly and I really must be on it.”

“Why, that will never do.” Emmaline did not seem as interested in the coach schedule as perturbed by it.

When Emmaline waved a dismissive hand, Elise noticed the ruby gracing her ring finger. A woman who owned such a stunning piece of jewelry most likely never rode in a public coach and as such would have no notion of expenses or tight purse strings. Elise, however, owned no jewelry besides the pearl earrings in her earlobes. They were identical to the pair Louise owned and were an inheritance whose origin Elise did not make a habit of contemplating.

Catching the coach was nearly uppermost in her mind. But her first priority was still learning something—anything!—about the letter.

“It will have to do. It is all the time I can spare. More time, actually, than I really have.”

Hugh rose from a chair beside the fireplace. She noticed the smooth burgundy leather seat cushion held the imprint of his body, as if it had been molded to conform to his presence. It crossed her mind that he must spend a great deal of time in the parlor, and indeed in that specific chair, for his buttocks to leave such an impression. The idea was not decorous but since she had no misconception that the world might read her mind—the way her younger sister did—Elise thought her observation safe.

That is, until she lifted her gaze and met his. A twinkle in his eyes made her wonder, for the first time ever, whether her thoughts were readable.

A slow smile slid across his face and her heartbeat stuttered, falling prey to a brilliant flash of white teeth and a low, throaty chuckle.