The Problem with Seduction (19 page)

“Here,” Mrs. Dalton said, “I’ll take him and get him freshened up. I’ll ring for Nelly on the way.” She looked at Elizabeth’s sodden arm and her cheeks reddened, too. “I’m afraid these things happen, my lord.”

Con was outright laughing now. He stopped long enough to glance around the room. “Is there a bellpull?”

“It’s broken,” Elizabeth replied. “Mrs. Dalton will need to go ring for her from another room. I’ll be just a minute, my lord. Dalton, have Nelly meet me in my room.”

“Yes, madam.”

Con’s eyes darkened at the mention of her room. His laughter warmed unmistakably to something else.

She was too exhausted to understand it. Why would he still think of her in that way? When she’d just shown him a glimpse of her world when he wasn’t there?

With a last look for Oliver, who had abandoned his tears and now gurgled contentedly at his nurse, she preceded Lord Constantine from the room. She could feel his presence in the hallway behind her. She hadn’t meant for him to follow her to her room, but she didn’t doubt now that it was where he meant to go.

He ambled while she hurried. She forced herself to slow. The pressures of motherhood had clearly affected her tonight. She didn’t feel the least inclined to lure Lord Constantine into her bed—even though he seemed almost intent on following her there.

She stopped abruptly just before the stair and took a quarter-turn step to thrust her back against the wall. Con easily came abreast of her.

His eyes darted at those breasts before he caught himself. “What is it?”

Her heart skipped a beat. He was clearly coming around to the idea of bedding her. But
she
hadn’t forgotten that her hair was coated in spittle and her sleeve reeked of urine. “It wouldn’t be proper for you to come with me.” She made herself sound teasing, but she had no intention of allowing him into her room.

“Oh?” His gaze made a slow walk down the stairs. “I didn’t realize there was such a thing as propriety, when it comes to one’s mistress.”

Mistress.
The appellation warmed her like hot tea. When she looked up at him again, however, he was laughing at her. “It’s about time I’ve bowled you over as hard as you’ve bowled me.”

Another splash of tea turned her insides sweet. She was careful not to let it show on her face, however. He was already reading her so well it left her at a disadvantage. She couldn’t let him see more than what he’d already discerned. “I thought you’d be happier exploring my sideboard than watching my maid do her level best to remove this dreadful stain from my favorite gown.”

He pulled a face. “You do manage to take all the mystery out of it. Very well, I’ll kick up my heels while you see to your toilette. And then I will get to the bottom of your note?” He raised a mischievous brow while still managing to maintain the slight furrow between his eyes.

She nodded sharply once, feeling the strain of the day weigh her down again. She’d almost forgotten the reason for his visit. What was it about him that sent her all aflutter whenever he entered the room? “I will.”

He watched her warily. “Your expression concerns me.”

There was no way to respond to that other than to lift her skirts, bob a curtsey and scamper down the stairs to her dressing room.
Distasteful.
That was how she felt about her objective tonight. First she must trust him with the truth—but she’d already done that, hadn’t she? And he
had
come. Her fragile faith hadn’t been misplaced. Perhaps he wouldn’t mind her imposition, either. Wouldn’t it be nice to feel as though he indulged her because he wanted to, rather than because she twisted him to do her bidding?

Nelly poked her mobcapped head into the hallway as Elizabeth approached from the stairs. “Is aught amiss, madam?”

“Oliver has no regard for the dearness of watered silk,” she replied with amused chagrin.

Nelly covered her smile with her hand.

Elizabeth quickly stripped to her chemise. She bathed her arms and neck, then changed into a clean chemise overlaid by a plain silk gown. Once again dressed properly, she turned to leave, but one look at her lady’s maid’s distressed face and she was reminded of her hair, now tumbled down around her shoulders, and the talc powder that had no doubt caked on her cheeks long ago.

She dutifully sat on the stool before her dressing table and let Nelly primp at her hair. All the while, she simultaneously wondered how in heavens’ name she’d managed to forget her disastrous appearance, and silently urged Nelly to be quick about her tasks.

A hurried knock at the door caused both women to startle. Nelly set down the hot tongs and scurried to open the door. “Sally! What on earth! You know better than to come to my lady’s chambers.”

Elizabeth leaned to see around her maid. It was a girl she barely recognized, up from the kitchens. The fretful maid stood wringing her hands in Elizabeth’s doorway.

Elizabeth immediately anticipated the worst. “What is it?”

The girl bobbed. “I’m so sorry to be a nuisance, ma’am, but Mrs. Dalton begged me to bring you a message. Lord Constantine—I believe that is his name, ma’am—he returned to the nursery a while ago and insisted on her fetching the little master for him.” The girl’s youthful face blushed brightly. “She don’t know what to do and thought you might want to come straightaway. That’s why she sent me, because the rest o’ the staff is sleeping.”

Elizabeth pushed her mass of half-tonged curls over her shoulder and rose. She collected the small reticule containing her face powder and a few cotton cloths—in the event Oliver decided to play the same trick on her again—and slipped past the girls and into the hall. She took the stairs as quickly as her narrow skirt would allow and paused only long enough to catch her breath when she reached the nursery door.
Mistake.

Con’s voice drifted through the open entrance. It struck a chord that vibrated straight through her heart.

“Why yes, that
is
my nose. It’s a nice nose—well, I’ve always thought so, anyway, though I’ve never thought to hold it just like that.”

His friendly, simple chatter affected her with a sudden, sharp poignancy she hadn’t dreamed possible.

“Oh?” he continued. “No, you didn’t have to let it go… Yes, yes, that’s
also
my nose, but not a place fingers usually go…”

She smiled at the nasal quality to his voice.

“Yours are very little, however,” he chattered on, “just the right size for such an adventure. Ack! Not my eye! I’m particular about those. But
you
have little lashes, don’t you? What a fine man you are, now that I’ve had a good look at you. I don’t know why your mother ran off, do you? I think I might have frightened her away. At any rate, she never has let me have a good look at you, God knows why. You’re a sturdy little chap. Yes, bounce on my thighs if you must, but—OW! My chin!”

Elizabeth rushed into the room, intending to scoop her baby off of Con’s lap. She didn’t want him to think he’d made a mistake. But he surprised her. His large hands expertly lifted Oliver and moved him from one knee to the other just fast enough that she was left to grasp thin air.

Oliver’s chubby arms waved indiscriminately in the air. He gave her a toothless smile and sucked one fist, then the other. “Gah!” he chortled happily. “Mah! Bah!”

She stopped in her tracks. “I thought he was disturbing you.” She felt silly even as she said the words. Oliver’s cheerful patter certainly hadn’t
implied
vexation. And Con dandled her son on his right knee as easily as if he’d handled children all his life.

A quick glance around the room revealed nothing amiss, if she didn’t count Mrs. Dalton hovering nervously in the corner. Although, to be perfectly truthful, her nursemaid seemed to be trying very hard to hide a dumbstruck expression. Elizabeth’s belly squeezed at the soft, almost longing look on Mrs. Dalton’s face as she watched Con play with the baby.

“Not at all,” Con replied. “If anything, I’m disturbing
him
. I believe you said he should be sleeping.” Con’s blue eyes looked up at her. He wasn’t thinking about having her against a wall anymore. He wasn’t thinking about her at all.

Strangely put out, she crossed her arms under her breasts.

He turned Oliver around so that her baby faced him. “He doesn’t seem interested in sleep, does he? I think he wants to play.”

“Mrs. Dalton will see him to bed when he’s ready. You have no need to worry yourself about him.” When he continued to disregard her, she added, “It’s quite out of your realm to even be in here.” It was the least accusing way she could think to order him out.

What was it about his commitment to her son, and now his lack of interest in her, that made her defensive?

Con was too busy forming exaggerated Os with his lips to look up at her. “He just wants to be where the excitement is. You could never convince
me
to nod off right now—Ow!”

“Goo!” Oliver replied. “Goo, goo!”

“Talkative little thing,” Con muttered, but she didn’t think he meant for her to comment. She felt strangely irrelevant…and more than passingly uncomfortable to realize she was jealous of her own son.

“We should retire to the drawing room, my lord,” she tried.

“I think he’s trying to tell me something,” Con said, ignoring her statement. “Is it about the goo? Give me more hints, Oliver. I want to know.”

 “My lord, what
are
you doing here?” she exclaimed, for he didn’t seem to have come for her at all.

His eyes darted sideways at her. “You invited me?”

“Not to the
nursery
.” She stressed the last word, but Con was finished with her, at least for the moment.

He watched Oliver intensely, never ceasing the rhythmic
bounce bounce bounce
of jiggling the baby on his knee. “I should like to take you out for a day, little chap. It’s high time we became better acquainted. What do you say? Your mother might not agree, I suppose…” Con turned his head ever so slightly to make inquiring eyes at her. “Pleeeease?”

She wanted to laugh, but she would
not
be charmed by yet another man whose primary interest in her was Oliver. Her teeth ground just a little. “It seems you hardly need my approval to entertain my son.” His absorption with Oliver was too similar to how Nicholas had behaved before he’d sent her packing. When would a man ever see
her
?

Con’s brow arched again. “
Your
son? I thought he was our son.” He peered into Oliver’s sunny face. “He looks enough like me, I suppose.”

She forgot her annoyance for the moment and took a step forward. If enough people agreed with Con, Nicholas would lose his advantage there. “Do you think so?”

Con laughed. “I’m fair and blue-eyed, Elizabeth. Of course he doesn’t look like me. But he does look like you.”

Disappointment coupled with her frustration. For no rhyme or reason, she
preferred
to think Oliver looked like Con. “No one cares a whit if he looks like me.”

“Captain Finn is dramatically dark-haired and brown-eyed. I can’t say I’ve spent any length of time admiring his features, but even I know that we’ll have a hard sell convincing anyone this baby isn’t his. You did realize that?”

Was he trying to anger her? “Of course I have!”

Then she glanced at Mrs. Dalton, just remembering the young woman’s presence. “You may leave us.”

Mrs. Dalton looked disappointed to be dismissed. Nevertheless, she bobbed and went to the door. “You’ll ring for me?” she said before pulling the door closed behind her.

Belatedly, Elizabeth realized she’d just asked to be left alone with Lord Constantine and her baby.

Too late.

Con resumed making popping noises at Oliver. Elizabeth could almost believe he’d forgotten their previous conversation, but then he looked up at her quizzically. “You were saying about Finn?”

Why should she trust him with the nightmares that kept her up at night? What was he to her? “It’s no matter.”

Oliver tossed his body full-force against Con’s broad chest without warning. Con caught him in a modified bear hug. “Whoa, there! You have some legs on you, my boy!” The room echoed with Con’s crack of laughter.

Oliver shrieked back in delight. Unbidden, a smile came to Elizabeth. She wanted only for Oliver to be happy. She must set aside her jealousy and ignore her pride. Lord Constantine had a natural way with children. He might never be more to her than that. But she
could
be pleased with herself as she watched them from afar, knowing she’d chosen the best possible man to be Oliver’s father.

Mayhap it was time to ask him about Devon. He didn’t seem to be ready to move to the drawing room posthaste. “I saw Finn today,” she began.

She stopped when his face tightened. Her heart seemed to turn over. Did he care?

“So you said in your note.” He sat Oliver on his knee. “I trust you didn’t get into a shouting match in the middle of the park. I believe our goal is to bore the gossips to death, not titillate them.”

She hadn’t even considered that.
Had
they been indiscreet? At the time it had seemed like he was hounding her; certainly they hadn’t been taking a pleasant stroll. She hoped no one had taken notice of them. Funny, as at the time she’d prayed for a kind stranger to intervene. “Not a quarrel. He did try to take Oliver from me. I would have screamed without a second’s hesitation, had he succeeded.”

Con straightened. Finally, she had his attention. “The rotter. How did you hold him off?”

She remembered Nicholas’s anguished eyes. Perhaps “take” was too strong a description. He’d wanted to hold Oliver.
Would
he have stolen him?

Maybe. Maybe not. She must assume the answer was yes. “I mentioned the canal in Devon to him, my lord, and relieved his mind about our dubious history. A crumb of information that places us both in the same area at the same time.”

Con went silent. He dandled Oliver by rote, clearly deep in thought. Her instinct was to fear for her son’s safety. As though Con might forget altogether he held the baby. But quickly, unsettlingly, she realized that his handling was instinctive. He didn’t need to think directly about Oliver to keep him from coming to harm.