Powder of Love (I) (15 page)

“He’s so small, though. No more than eleven, I should think.”

He nodded. “He’s a busy lad, working most days and evenings at the station, and yet he’s still always on the lookout for more to do. Full of energy. Last time I saw him, he was talking a mile a minute and dancing around.” The boy had been so bright-eyed, Reed had worried that he’d been on some sort of drug. Not so unusual for any street lad in any big city to use drugs to escape misery.

He recalled they hadn’t talked for more than a couple of minutes, only long enough for Reed to buy the perpetually hungry Peterkins a pasty from a street cart vendor, but now Reed remembered part of the conversation. “He mentioned you, actually. Said the lovely lady at that big house gave him work.”

“I didn’t.” She frowned slightly. “But with this wretched party, I wouldn’t be surprised if Beels hired him on to provide extra help. I think half of New York has been in and out of the house.”

Her hand rested lightly on the sleeve of his jacket, and he could feel the heat of her. He drew her closer, and perhaps they walked too closely side by side, because she stumbled slightly. So of course he had to reach across to grasp her upper arm firmly with one hand and rest his other arm across her back to steady her.

A side-glance from her told him she knew his game, and instead of tartly demanding he cease manhandling her, she said nothing. The color rose in her cheeks, and her full mouth quirked into a twisted smile.

For a short distance, they walked in this fashion. Now they moved smoothly, matching their steps. He could feel her rhythm through her hip, which he’d dragged against his own. Pleasant but tantalizing—with just a pull and a twist, he could haul her full up against him. That would be something. In view of the whole world, groping and mauling the correct young lady. He slowed his pace. Not because he had any intention of pulling her close, but just the thought proved potent. Their steps missed and jerked.

She gently disengaged herself from his grasp, and they walked side by side with far too much air between them.

“I’m not an invalid walking across ice, though it is good to know you have the strength to support me if I were.” Under the half veil, she turned pinker and cleared her throat. “I am supposed to be performing the service of chaperone. I’ve never played that role before, you know, so don’t confuse me by playing the part of wicked seducer.”

“Of course not,” he said. “Never wicked, unless you requested that.” God, he sounded as bad as Clermont.

It was a relief that she didn’t titter or gasp but merely rolled her eyes. “I don’t know why, but you have this look on your face, as if you’re laughing at yourself, Mr. Reed. I can never take you seriously when you flirt.”

He grinned at her. “Here I am trying to learn the art of flirtation, and you’re undermining me with ridicule.”

“Oh, don’t try to pull the wool over my eyes. You’re the very model of a smooth ladies’ man. I’ll bet you’re far more accomplished at breaking hearts than your friend Mr. Clermont.”

He laughed, but she didn’t join him.

“I’m serious,” she said.

What on earth that meant, he didn’t have the faintest clue. She thought he broke hearts? That he was an accomplished rake?

He reached for her hand again and tucked it into the crook of his arm. “I have never in my life broken a single heart,” he said. “Never seduced and abandoned a single lady. As far as I know, I’ve never even left a single one sighing for me.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“I’ve been deceived by one,” he said, and wondered why he’d made that admission. Best to laugh it off.

“I’m sorry,” she said, and laughter didn’t fit the moment after all.

“I was naive and in love for the first time. A common and dangerous combination.” He said the words lightly and knew that at last the bitterness about Lily was gone.

“You do seem calm about it.”

“We all have heartaches and disappointments.” Damn, that sounded bitter after all. Pompous too, so he added, “I suppose it’s what makes us human.”

She shook her head, causing the tiny silk flowers on the band of her hat to tremble. He wished she’d say something, give him a glimpse into her own past. But she merely drew his attention to a large woman who was trotting along, rolling a hoop like a young girl.

He stopped glancing back the way they’d come to see if he could spot Clermont. They were approaching a more crowded part of the beach resort.

“I do wish…” she began slowly. “It seems as if pairs are so often mismatched. I wish there was a way to turn one’s affections off and on. Certainly it would be better to be alone than paired with someone who didn’t understand one or appreciate one’s concerns.”

They were back to the coachman and companion, but Reed suspected she spoke of herself. Was she warning him off?

The breeze from the ocean blew harder, and she impatiently pushed up the veil that fluttered in her face. “There are so many things that can go wrong. For instance, one might be matched with a partner who doesn’t share the same level of physicality.”

No, she wasn’t talking about herself and him. Physicality, he supposed, meant lust. The shared physical desire between them was enough to set someone’s hair on fire.

“Are you making love matches, Miss Ambermere?”

She gave him a sidelong glance. “No, not I. I am not sentimental. I don’t look for matches in the springtime.”

That was a warning, certainly.

“You’re not softhearted? You could have dismissed Miss Renshaw after her shocking behavior.”

She gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. “How did you find out? Did one of the servants gossip?”

“I didn’t know; I guessed. Now I know. But to return to the matter, you could have gotten rid of the companion who slipped and possibly fell. You could have dismissed or threatened the servant who took advantage of that slip. But instead you are following them around a working-class part of the world I’m sure you’d never visit on your own, acting as a duenna.”

She gripped his arm tighter and smiled. “You’re right. I would never have thought to visit Coney Island, but I’m enjoying myself a great deal.”

Once again the warmth of her smile hit him, and he could only babble. “Are you? I’m so glad.”

“Perhaps I need to expand my parochial view.” She inched closer so her skirts brushed his leg. They were dancing, that mating ritual.

He longed to skip the coy little steps and get straight to the kisses. His body had been too tightly controlled for too long.

Not with her, though. Not when he wanted to escape with his faculties intact. A carillon played a tune, marking the hour. He had to go back to work. “I must return to Clermont,” he said. “Thank you for a pleasant walk. Too short, I think.”

He unwrapped her hand from his arm and kissed the back of her glove, then moved his lips to her wrist, where he could kiss her flesh. Much better—real warmth and silk, and the way her body jolted at the touch of his mouth gratified him.

He called to the others so they would stop and wait. He turned and gazed into wide eyes—was she startled? It had to be from the intimate touch of his mouth on a small patch of skin. God, she actually breathed hard. The woman was as tightly wound as he was.

Her tongue touched her upper lip, and he imagined leaning in and tracing the same path with his tongue, tasting her.

Reed had taken off his gloves, and if he couldn’t use his tongue, he could at least touch the edge of her mouth and feel the damp warmth of her lip under his finger. He sucked in a breath at the feel of her. That mouth kissing him, teasing him. Would she be like some of the women Clermont had described? There were women who would willingly take a man in their mouths. Miss Ambermere—Rosalie. Leaning over him, licking and tasting. His arousal was full-blown now, almost painful, and he smothered a groan.

Less than a minute had passed. His imagination was on fire, and his heart beat as painfully as if he’d run a great distance.

The power they held over each other was frightening. He’d do best to avoid her presence.

* * *

When Reed returned to his post, Clermont was waiting for him. “Where have you been? Never mind. I know you’re not going to talk to me about it, even though you really do work for me. I’m hurt that a companion from my boyhood would be so secretive. We were at school together, Reed.”

Damnation. Clermont’s eyes glittered dangerously. Had the man seen? Reed pretended to stifle a yawn. “Don’t talk drivel. You’re done quickly. Didn’t your contortionists keep you busy?”

“It was all watch and no touch. One could put her foot behind her head in a way that will haunt my dreams. Ah, me. Only so much naked, agile flesh I can bear to watch without taking some sort of action.”

“What did you do to them?” Double damnation. Reed started toward the cottage to make sure the girls were all right.

“No, don’t worry about them.” Clermont grimaced. “They have some experience saying no. They did mention that a more amenable female might be found at the Elephant, but I expect the twins would get a fee, the little procuresses, and I’m angry with them.”

He noticed the dance hall, and a slow smile crossed his face. “This little peninsula is filled with dazzling feminine beauty. Let us go drink overpriced swill and make arrangements for more interesting fun.”

Business as usual. Reed followed Clermont into the dark, noisy hall, where a pianist and trombonist played something resembling music and the women who weren’t on the raised stage sat on patrons’ laps and coaxed them to buy drinks.

He thought of poor Rosalie. She had her hands full too. He wished he could compare notes on their difficult charges.

“You’re still grinning. Maybe the red-haired one in blue that’s eyeing you will finally get you hard? Remember, I get to watch. We can share, if you like. How about three of them for the two of us?”

“Do shut up, Clermont.”

“I think I’ll take tomorrow off. I want to save my strength for a visit to Miss Ambermere’s house. Her mother, you know. Quite the energetic female.”

Reed sank low into his chair and tried to make out the tune the pianist had launched into.

Three days until the powder could go to Dr. Leonard. And then he’d be on his way. The nagging sensation that he’d abandon Miss Ambermere and leave her without a protector was nonsense. The woman had money and confidence and a worldliness that would keep her safe.

Chapter Seven

Thank goodness Deirdre wasn’t home when they returned from the strange day’s expedition.

Rosalie went into the sitting room and rang for a necessary cup of tea.

Miss Renshaw was turning the small box over and over. Laden with seashells, the thing was inscribed with
Coney Island Memories.

Mr. Hawes had insisted on buying one for each of them.

Miss Renshaw, who’d studied the great masters at an exclusive girls’ academy, smiled down at the gaudy little box. “When I’m with him, I forget everything. I forget what I’m supposed to be and who I’m supposed to be.”

She sounded like a young girl in the throes of her first schoolgirl infatuation. Perhaps this was her first.

With real warmth, Rosalie said, “That’s lovely.” She watched the library door, wondering which servants’ ears were pressed to the other side. As quietly as possible, she asked, “Will you walk out with him again, do you suppose?”

“Only if my dear, dear Miss Ambermere says I might.”

Rosalie stifled her usual impatience and smiled. “It’s not really my business.”

“You are my first concern and always shall be. If it weren’t for you…” Her mouth trembled.

“If I didn’t exist, you’d have a position with some other lady, doing exactly the same work you do for me,” Rosalie finished for her.

Miss Renshaw looked appalled.

Rosalie went on. “You’ll always have a place in my household; you do know that. Even should you decide to, ah, change your marital status.”

The tears spilled from Miss Renshaw’s eyes, and she gave a stifled moan. Oh no, what had Rosalie said wrong now?

It wasn’t misery, Miss Renshaw protested, but undying gratitude and love. She carefully put down her precious shell box, then fell into her employer’s arms, declaring that no one was a better lady than her own darling Miss Ambermere.

At long last, the painful scene ended, and Miss Renshaw hurried upstairs to dress for dinner. Rosalie should have done the same—certainly change out of the very plain pink muslin gown she wore—but she sat in the chair, staring off into space instead of looking down at the household account book.

Perhaps her mother was right, and Rosalie was turning into a bitter old maid at a young age. That would explain why she’d wanted to shake the sentiment out of Miss Renshaw, tell her to enjoy herself with her coachman, but not turn him or Rosalie into some sort of heavenly saint.

She had no right to try to turn Miss Renshaw from happy emotion, her mother would say. Cynicism about love must be earned, and Rosalie hadn’t ever allowed her heart to be broken, much less claimed.

Now this was an odd thing to feel self-pity about. She’d never lost sleep over a man or cried for hours. Not counting her father, of course, but one didn’t count one’s parents when it came to heartbreak.

She was perfectly content. Yet a lack of passionate pain created something bleak, a hollow sensation that she had not noticed before. Contentment was no longer enough.

What would Mr. Reed say? He’d probably laugh at her. No, he’d be laughing with her, for she was being a ninny and knew it. Passion had always struck her as a strange thing to long for. Such a thing would shift her very makeup and make it impossible for her to ever return to the calm, easy state of independence.

She thought of Mr. Reed, and something stirred inside her.

Just because his name crossed her mind didn’t mean she felt real and honest passion for him, she thought, slightly panicked. But she knew she could never deny that heavy sensation or the prickling of her body at the thought of him. From the first glance of him in her sitting room, she’d felt drawn to him. Good heavens, she was talking herself into being in love with someone just because being in love seemed to be…interesting.

Ridiculous.

She tried to imagine kisses with the doctor. But that only made her want to laugh. He’d insist on conducting strange experiments with her and the little maid. What about Mr. Clermont? That thought made her slightly nauseated.

She sat in the chair and thought about each man of her acquaintance, up to and including the constable on the beat along her street. And she imagined herself kissing them, one by one.

And the only time her breath hitched, her body seeming to draw in, was as she remembered Mr. Reed’s kisses—warm and soft, and then more demanding and interesting. The way he’d smiled at her afterward.

That wasn’t love, was it?

She couldn’t be sure it was, but she was very certain it was pure lust, and if she thought of him for one more moment—imagined his hands on her body or recalled the way he’d sprawled in her library in an extreme state of arousal, berating her for using words like
bodies
even while he looked at her with hungry eyes—if he entered her thoughts for another second, she’d run screaming from the room.

That would give the servants something other than Miss Renshaw to talk about.

Beels would back away from her, the way he’d done with Miss Renshaw the night she’d inhaled the powder. There was an image to cheer her and banish any gloomy thoughts.

She was done with her five minutes of sulking, and she’d regained her equilibrium and ended the strange restlessness. Except, no, her body still yearned for more. More kisses, more touches. More Mr. Reed. Gideon.

“I am not in love,” she told the brass elephant on her desk.

The brass elephant always reminded her of her father, since it had sat on his desk. Therefore she could easily imagine it answering her in his voice.

Perhaps it is time to think about settling down, before you make a fool of yourself. Don’t let yourself be captured into a mismatch by pure attraction.

She didn’t argue.

* * *

Fifty people had said yes to the party invitations her mother had sent out. Not a huge event, but not as intimate as her mother had promised. Rosalie wasn’t surprised. Deirdre had grown up in a world that didn’t know how to do anything by halves.

The list included a great many bachelors. Rosalie could pretend she was Prince Charming and looking for a gentleman who’d kneel at her feet, slip a shoe on her foot… No, it was the other way around in this case. He’d have to flee her house, and she’d go door to door with his patent leather dancing pump, looking for her mate.

Or maybe she’d say yes to Mr. Wentworth, a perfectly nice gentleman who had gently pursued her for a couple of years. Well-bred, he was always polite, patient, reasonable, and didn’t carry irons in his pocket or know how to punch a man unconscious. Though she couldn’t quite picture his face at the moment, she knew he had brown eyes and a pleasant smile. He would fit her neatly ordered life like a hand slipping into a well-made glove.

Her mother came in the door, humming. She looked Rosalie up and down. “You looked pinched, my darling. And if you don’t stop frowning, those lines in your forehead will be permanent.”

“I am fine,” Rosalie said, but her mother didn’t avert her stare, and Rosalie knew that unless she confessed something, her mother would keep after her. “I have a mild case of spring fever, I suppose.”

“An electrical treatment,” her mother said decisively. “Tomorrow. You’ll be relaxed enough for your party. It imparts a glow.”

Just like the one Miss Renshaw had worn all afternoon at the beach.

* * *

Reed’s replacement met him in a parlor off the lobby of the hotel. Staring down at the telegraphy operator’s florid handwriting on the form confirming the new man’s appointment, Reed felt slightly queasy. It was one thing to shrug off the job, quite another to feel as if he could walk away when Clermont still wanted that powder and would do what he could to get it.

The doctor still hadn’t notified Reed that the safe had arrived, and so the powder waited in Miss Ambermere’s basement. Reed couldn’t trust anyone else. Not yet.

The new man cleared his throat. “I say, I’m Trevner.” He was a thin man with a square jaw almost balanced by a huge waxed mustache. Mild, pale eyes gave him the look of an amiable sheep. “As you see, I’m the, um, new representative for Mr.…um…Clermont. Secretary is the title they said I should use.” He laid a finger next to his nose in a knowing manner.

That was quick
. “Did you come from England? Just for this job?” This one wouldn’t last a week. The name sounded familiar. Reed examined him, recalling a more pugnacious version of a man with the same jaw and same name. He’d rather liked the other Trevner he knew.

“Rather. Or rather not. I was over the pond anyway, and Clermont’s mother is a friend of my mater. And there’s a matter of me, in search of a new
poze-ish
.”

“Poze what?”

“Position. Work and so on. What have you. This is easy, one hopes, what?”

Reed considered agreeing, but then he remembered the young German seamstress’s assistant Clermont had encountered near the hotel.

Clermont had wanted a girl young enough to have no nether hair, he’d said, and if Reed hadn’t been there to stop him…

“Come on,” Reed said and motioned to the broad staircase. “We’ll talk in the suite. Clermont’s napping. We don’t want to be absent when he wakes up.”

He escorted Trevner into the small parlor next to the main sitting room of the apartment. Reed took up his position near the door so he could watch Clermont’s bedroom.

He shoved his hands into his pockets and leaned against a wall. “Sometimes it’s an easy job, but you can’t relax. The main responsibility is stopping Clermont from attempting to seduce nearly every female he encounters. You can’t be squeamish about the subject of sexual congress, and you must be willing to occasionally physically subdue Clermont.”

“Subdue him? Oh, I say. Doesn’t that make him angry?”

“Certainly.”

Trevner pursed pale lips under his pale mustache. “You’re Gideon Reed, aren’t you? My older brother went to Oxford with you. You’ve got a boxing blue.”

Reed nodded.

The thin young man sighed. “I haven’t any such ability. Pity. But I might be able to outwit the man. Certainly sounds a more interesting position than I’d expected. More action of all sorts.” His laughter was high-pitched and loud. Clermont wouldn’t sleep through that.

After Reed hushed him, he told him how to enlist the aid of Clermont’s valet, Banbury, and occasionally hotel staff. The trick was to always carry money for tips or bribes.

“He’s single-minded and intelligent,” Reed said. He didn’t want to scare off his replacement, but he didn’t want the young fool to be tossed in over his head.

“So I’ll be trailing around after him?”

“Yes, every time he goes out. And you better have a strong stomach or a strong interest in hearing about women’s bodies. You’ll be seeing quite a few naked females as well.”

“I don’t much mind,” Trevner said.

Reed wondered why the man sounded so indifferent. Offended or interested would have made more sense. He went on. “Because of his money and family, sometimes Clermont receives invitations from polite society. Unbelievable, if you ask me. At any rate, you must go along. Getting an invitation for yourself can be awkward on occasion, but you’ll have to be insistent. Do not allow him to go alone.” He stopped to think. “In a few days, he’ll be attending a party held by Miss Ambermere. I’ll be there, so you needn’t contrive to get an invitation for yourself.”

“Ambermere. Rosalie Ambermere, eh?”

Reed nodded.

Trevner grinned at him, showing crooked front teeth. “Ha. I know that name. From England, I think?”

Reed shrugged. “She lived there.”

“Brunette.” Trevner’s hands formed curves in the air. “Lovely face and whatnot. All the trimmings, but a sharpish tongue and a bluestocking. Gave my brother an excoriation that had him in a bad mood for days.”

“Oh?” Reed waited for more, but the boy went on reciting less interesting facts. “Her father was Lord Williamsford, a dour old blighter. Title went to…hmm…to a goer.” Trevner squinted. “I’ve heard the last Lord Williamsford was rather a version of this Clermont I’ll be trailing after.”

Reed felt more cheerful. Trevner was less of a lackwit than he’d first seemed.

Trevner drew out a handful of crumpled yellow pieces of paper from his pocket. Telegrams. “Aha. Forgot. I’ll wager the late Lord Williamsford is mentioned in here.” He went to the dresser and carefully smoothed the papers on its top. “These are a few instructions. Must have cost them a packet to send all this along to me, what? I’m to ask you for details. The family said I am to watch out for some items that belonged to Lord ‘Wms.’ I’m guessing that’s Williamsford. I’m to buy ’em up from the current owner, whomever that might be.”

“The only real nuisance Williamsford left behind is being taken care of.”

“By whom? You?”

“I helped to take care of it.”

The pale eyes beamed at him. “Glad to hear I have one less problem to worry me. But come, you’re off the job now, Reed. No need to take up any more of your time.” He gave a tiny, fake cough. “I’ll have my things sent up. Will you stay on in the hotel?”

A polite way to say it was time for him to move out of the suite. That was fine with Reed. He’d already spotted a furnished room not too far away from Washington Square, rented by the week. He wanted to stay close to Miss Ambermere’s house until he knew she was safe.

After that, the Pacific. Or perhaps the Rockies. Something out there must be worth exploring, he supposed.

He walked to the door. “I’ll leave behind my directions so you’ll be able to reach me. You keep an eye on Clermont’s door. He’s sleeping off a long night. I’ll go pack.”

“No no no. Not this moment, dear sir. Of course, no need to hurry.” Trevner’s mouth fell open, and he looked slightly panicked. Perhaps he hadn’t thought Reed would take him seriously.

“I’m confident you can prevent Clermont’s arrest and protect the innocent females of New York.”

He had only one female he cared to protect.

“You’ll just walk out? Not at all the thing.” Trevner bleated. This from the man who’d just made it clear Reed wasn’t welcome.

“I’ll be back once I settle in. And yes, I’ll say good-bye to Clermont.”