Someone Irresistible (4 page)

Mimi was certainly glad he wasn’t looking at her because she simply
had
to be blushing now. “Of course—vaguely.”

He gave something of a sarcastic snort, then glanced at her askance.

“Vaguely? Don’t you remember kissing me, Mimi? I most certainly remember kissing you.”

How could she ever forget? “As I said, vaguely. It was a very exciting time and much was going on around us.”

Snickering, he added, “I’m sure you remember luring me outside.”

Her forehead creased as her mouth dropped open. “Luring you? I didn’t
lure
you anywhere. It was
you
who asked
me
if I’d like to walk outdoors.”

“Ahh. So you do remember spending time with me that evening,” he drawled.

“Spending time with you?” She swept her arm across the room in amazement. “I remember your arrogance, your elusiveness, and, in a moment of distraction, my begging you to think about me—”

“Begging?”

“—Which you obviously didn’t do. I wrote you three times, Nathan, and never got a response. I was truly sorry about what happened to you, but if you’re looking for sympathy now, you’ve come calling two years too late.”

She’d lost her composure at last and he knew it. He faced her fully again, stretching over the settee opposite her, his palms resting casually on its back. “I like you better this way, full of passion and fire. The calm widow pose doesn’t suit you.”

That completely undid her. She stood to meet him squarely. “I’m rather busy today. It was nice of you to call, Professor Price.”

“Let’s get back to the request I have of you,” he directed with utter confidence, completely ignoring her dismissal. His smile deepened, his

eyes took on a reckless cast as they probed hers. “I would like you to sculpt a jawbone for me, and I’ll need it by December. I’ll give you notes, sketch it, and pay you reasonably for your labor.” He leaned over the settee back to add pointedly, “I know you’ve been sculpting for Sir Harold for at least two years, and that he didn’t sculpt a single reptile that now sits within Owen’s Zoological Garden. I’m certain you can do this for me, Mimi.”

That acknowledgment thoroughly shocked and appalled her. He was blackmailing her without saying so and they both knew it. She had never known Nathan Price to be anything but a gentleman, but he had hardened since his downfall. He was cynical now, shrewd, and she didn’t like the change at all. But she absolutely could not allow him to announce to the world that she’d been doing her father’s work for years.

Sir Harold’s reputation had to be maintained at all costs. The Nathan Price she had known before his disastrous ruin at the Crystal Palace was not the man in front of her now. This man was older, more sure of himself, more calculating. Ruthless.

“The jawbone of what?” she finally asked, her tone spilling over with resentment and anger. She didn’t want to appear to be giving in easily, without a fight. And she was deathly afraid she already knew the answer.

He thought about that for a moment, his expression harsh. Then he shoved his hands into his coat pockets and began to pace behind the settee, staring at the lavender carpet at his feet.

“The opening night of the Exhibition I was humiliated, Mimi,” he began, subdued. “At eight o’clock in the evening I was an admired, respected paleontologist; at five minutes past eight I was the Palace jester. Early that afternoon I had personally transported a perfect, one-of-a-kind Megalosaurus jawbone to the Crystal Palace for the world to see; not six hours later it was missing, stolen by someone who wanted to see me fail, and fail well in front of the most important scientists in England.” He drew a long breath as he dropped his head back, and closed his eyes to the ceiling. “Suddenly I had no reputation and my career was all but destroyed. I also received no funding for the museum I had been given to manage. Instead, that money went to Carter Sinclair for his study of monkeys in habitat.”

Mimi felt the blood drain from her face. “Carter didn’t steal it, Nathan,” she admonished in deadly quiet, unable to voice anything more.

His eyes popped open and he abruptly turned to her. “Perhaps he didn’t, Mimi,” he said, only hinting at untold bitterness. “The Carter Sinclair I knew was, in general, a smart man, but he wasn’t calculating

in his cleverness. I don’t think he could have planned such a scheme and carried it through with the precision it had to have taken—at least, not on his own. It’s also true that he wouldn’t have known Owen would donate the money to his research instead of the museum if I’d failed to win it. We weren’t exactly competitors. Fierce rivals for personal recognition, maybe—but not competitors in the field.”

Mimi crossed her arms over her breasts and glanced away uncomfortably, toward the open window with the clear view of Mrs.

Lies’ red rose covered trellis. Guilt bubbled deep within her as she considered that at the time of the Palace opening she was very much hoping that Carter would be in competition with Nathan for her, Miss Mimi Marsh, Sir Harold’s daughter. She’d never told Carter, and now it hardly mattered. Nathan, of course, would never know it, either.

“Do you suspect anyone at all?” she asked moments later, her uneasiness building.

She heard the floorboards creak beneath his feet as he moved again around the settee toward her, but she never altered her stance.

In a clear, direct voice, he murmured, “Yes, I suspect Sir Harold.”

Her head flipped around as her mouth dropped open. “That’s outrageous!”

“It’s also logical.”

“How dare you come into my home and accuse—”

“Think about it, Mimi,” he cut in, undaunted, stepping closer still.

“Who else would gain? Who else knew what I had under the velvet cover, what I stood to lose? He was also the only one close enough to Owen to know that if I failed that night Owen’s money would go to Carter, the man who had just asked for his daughter’s hand in marriage.”

“It’s impossible and unthinkable,” she fairly shouted. “Any number of individuals at the opening could have done it. What you suggest is insulting, Nathan.” Seething, she lowered her voice to add, “You also have no proof of anything or you would have accused him years ago.”

He reached out and grasped her upper arms tightly. “Maybe,” he agreed, passionate with his purpose. “But I’ve been waiting more than two years to clear my name, Mimi. I now know of a way to do it, to discover and expose the man who disgraced me publicly. If you’re so sure it wasn’t your father, then help me. Help me if only to prove it
wasn’t
him.” He relaxed a little and smiled cynically. “If nothing else you should enjoy the challenge.”

That confused her. The entire incident confused her. His inappropriate nearness had her suddenly dazed, too, with his earthy

scent assaulting her senses and his probing eyes drawing her complete attention. Immediately, she jerked herself free of his scorching grasp and took a step back in unconscious self-protection.

He didn’t like that, though she wasn’t sure why. His smile vanished and his demeanor darkened as his body stiffened beside her.

Mimi looked away from him, toward the fireplace mantel, staring down at all of the silly and useless little trinkets her mother-in-law occasionally sent her to beautify what the woman felt was a less-than-elegant home. Aside from Mimi’s occasional sculpting that nobody knew she did, this had become the greatest entertainment for her since Carter’s death and her necessary state of mourning—wondering what little bauble her mother-in-law had wrapped this time in a gaudy box.

How absurd, but terribly typical for ladies of her station.

He was right. She’d adore a new challenge right now, and especially one opposing the enigmatic Nathan Price. The idea alone renewed her with a vigor she hadn’t felt in a very long time. But could she allow herself to get involved like this? She supposed she must, since it concerned the little issues of blackmail and family dishonor. To save her father a future public disgrace, she would need to prove his innocence of the scandal more than two years ago. She never would have believed for a moment that the Nathan of her past would actually humiliate them all, but she couldn’t say certainly that he wouldn’t. That minute thread of doubt left her no other choice. She needed to learn what he knew.

Seconds later she felt her anger seep from her skin to leave her drained, numb. “What do you want sculpted, Nathan, and why?” she asked quietly, glancing his way again.

“I need an exact replica of the Megalosaurus that was stolen from the Crystal Palace.”

She had assumed as much, and almost laughed at such a preposterous idea. Perhaps he knew it, too, for his dark eyes blazed with the gravity in his request.

“It’s important, Mimi.”

He was completely serious, and it worried her.

“Nobody believes it existed,” she returned briskly. “What are you going to prove with a replica of a fossil nobody’s ever seen?”

His cheek twitched. “I’ll worry about that when the time comes to produce it.”

“And when is that time?”

“During a scientific function, but I don’t have details as yet. I need the Megalosaurus first.”

She paused, watching him closely, studying his taut expression. He needed a haircut badly, and his face was deeply tanned for this time of year, apparently from working every day under bright sunshine. He’d been gone for a long while, digging for fossils on the Continent, or so she’d heard through the little gossip she’d received. That he was back suddenly and asking—no,
forcing
—her to sculpt the Megalosaurus made her curious, even suspicious. It was a very unusual request. Yes, indeed, the man had a purpose in mind, and although she knew she would have to give in to his demands, she also realized fully that if she wasn’t careful in her approach, they would all suffer at the outcome.

“And if I refuse?” she asked coyly, enticing him to argue.

Very slowly, he shook his head, glaring down at her. “You won’t.

That’s the beauty of our little arrangement.”

That made her mad again, and he knew it. She could almost see him hold back a smile of satisfaction as heat suffused her face. Fortunately for her, he didn’t comment on it.

“I’m staying at the boarding house at Four-forty-seven King’s Road,”

he said instead, “right here in Chelsea.”

She knew which one. Quite fashionable and quaint. But then, most of Chelsea was. She wondered for a moment if he could afford it, then swiftly decided the state of his finances was none of her business.

“Take time to think about how you’d like to begin,” he suggested reasonably. “I’ll be back in a day or two with notes and drawings of my own, and we can then discuss getting started.”

His rich brown eyes probed hers for seconds longer, then dropped to linger on her body, her breasts, before he tipped his head in a gentlemanly gesture. “Good day, Mrs. Sinclair.”

Without reply, Mimi stared at his wide back as he strode confidently from her morning room.

« ^ »

T
he table had been set as usual for the Sunday meal. Their father

would be absent again this week because he was still gone from the country with several of Professor Owen’s advisors, inquiring about endorsements from the European elite for research grants. Although due back sometime the following week, he was in Belgium at the moment, or so Mimi had heard. With her father’s arthritis, he had trouble writing and refused to dictate for fear someone might discover how physically disabled he’d become from his affliction. News from him, then, tended to be sporadic.

Today, however, even without Sir Harold’s presence in his home, the best china had been laid, along with the finest linens and silver for the late breakfast she and Mary would share together, as they did each Sunday after church and had done for as long as Mimi could remember.

She sat at the northern end of the oblong table, in her conservative Sunday gown of deep purple—the only colorful apparel she wore while in half mourning. Mary sat directly across from her, backlit from cloud-filtered daylight seeping through the dining room windows, wearing a plain but striking dress in the becoming shade of green pears. For an unmarried lady of twenty-eight years, her sister carried herself with a surprising amount of grace and sophistication. In small measure, Mimi had always been somewhat jealous of Mary and her elegant, serene beauty and clever wit. Even after she’d married Carter she’d been a little bit in awe of Mary and her ability to remain dignified and worldly in the face of probable spinsterhood. A shame, that, but then Mary enjoyed the life she’d made for herself and indulged her desire to care for their father after their mother’s unfortunate death from a weak heart twelve years ago. Mimi also felt, perhaps too romantically, that Mary deserved love and intimate companionship as well, though trying to convince her sister of that went beyond the impossible. Mary seemed happy and content as she was, and Mimi respected her sister’s decision in that. At least for now.

She knew she had been rather quiet all morning, waiting for the right time to broach the subject of her ‘unexpected visitor of two days ago.

Mary hadn’t commented on her unusual silence, thankfully, and even now seemed preoccupied with her own thoughts as she chattered on about the Sunday service and the week ahead. Mimi listened with only half interest as she watched her sister stir sugar into her tea with graceful fingers while a servant leaned over her plate and began cracking the shells of her boiled eggs.

“I’ve never heard such absolute drivel as that piece played this morning, have you?” Mary carried on without expecting a reply. “I mean, really. Mr. Goodall has certainly been tutoring Priscilla Nagolt long enough to teach her a bit of Handel done properly, don’t you

think? The worst part, naturally, is that I’ll have to attend the poor girl’s piano recital next week if I’m going to secure the position I need with Lady Tesh. I’m
sure
she’ll be there.” Mary slid her spoon gently across the edge of the teacup and shook her head, glancing up mischievously as she lowered her voice to whisper across the table. “I’ve heard the lady wants silken bed sheets made in the most scandalous shade of red.” She giggled. “Two sets to match her most unusual set of—