The Seducer (25 page)

She spread her arms with a dramatic flourish. “Andrew Tyndale is responsible for
this.
For the fact that Paul had to carry me here, instead of my walking in on my own. He is the reason I do not visit England, and why I have not left that house.”

“Are you saying that he knows you?”

“He knows me. Whether he would recognize me, I cannot say. He might, however. After all, twenty-four years ago I was his lover.”

“His lover!”

Jeanette noted Diane’s surprise with dour satisfaction. “I was a girl, seventeen. My family was trying to leave France and he offered to help. He smuggled me to England first. I carried jewels and money, so that when the others arrived a place would be waiting for them. I was ignorant and trusting, and when he seduced me I thought it was love.”

Diane had no trouble seeing Tyndale’s face, years younger, kind and concerned, speaking of affection and alluding to marriage.

After all, he had said the same thing to her.

“He brought me to an obscure property. Time passed and no word came from my family. Whenever he visited I asked him about it, and he would say that such things take time. I was isolated and had no news of what was happening in France. Still, I grew suspicious. Finally, I confronted him and demanded to be brought to London. From that day on I was a prisoner, but then I had been all along. His use of me continued, but there were no illusions after that.”

“I dreaded his visits. I loathed his touch. Finally, one time he visited and I could not bear it anymore. I stole a horse and ran away. It was winter, and the horse threw me. I landed on my back and could not move.”

Her voice gave the dreadful facts in flat, clipped statements. Diane got the impression Jeanette had rarely spoken of it before, and only kept her composure now through force of will.

Jeanette looked straight ahead, her eyes suddenly flaming. “He followed me. He found me there, on a barren field, crippled. I still remember his words. ‘Well, like that you are no good to me at all anymore.’ He left me there. He took the horse.”

“You could have died.”

“He probably assumes that I did.”

“You think that was his intention?”

“Why else leave a woman in the cold with no way to save herself? However, a farmer happened to pass that evening, and I called out. He put me in his wagon and brought me to his home. His wife and sister took care of me. I lived with them for years, bedridden. Then one day Daniel walked into the house. I had not seen him since he was a boy. He had been searching for me. Whenever he was in England he would seek out the properties that Tyndale’s family owned, and ask in those regions about a young, dark-haired French woman. Finally, he found me and got me to France.”

She opened her hands, announcing the story’s end. Diane could barely absorb the horror that must have been Jeanette’s life. Years of fear and helplessness.

“When Daniel was looking for you, why didn’t he just confront Tyndale and ask where you were?”

“There were good reasons why he could not, but that is my brother’s story, not mine.”

She called for Paul. He had been just outside the door, as always. He had heard everything. From his expression, Diane guessed that he already knew this story.

He lifted his mistress into his arms. From her perch, Jeanette looked down on Diane. “You are pale and wan. Tomorrow promises to be a fair day. I think that you should walk in St. James’s Park tomorrow morning. Paul tells me there is a little lake surrounded by jonquils. A visit there will do you good. One should not become a recluse unless there is an excellent reason for it.”

Dupré was acting very odd. Normally Andrew would not take note of it, because even at the best of times Gustave was a peculiar man. He was the sort of fastidious fool who took great pains with his appearance but managed to appear pinched and tucked rather than fashionable. All of those years peering into books had left him with the face of an old woman, and he had a host of mannerisms that were barely tolerable.

Today, however, Dupré acted unusually guarded. He paused before answering any questions. He fidgeted even when he stood still.

Andrew surveyed the elaborate demonstration in the shed and his concerns shifted from Dupré to the money these cylinders and iron embodied. It had cost a fortune to satisfy St. John’s demands for proof. The man had damn well better be contented when it was done.

Dupré frowned down at a huge hunk of iron in a deep metal kettle. “I worry about this one. The copper of the tub may affect things.”

“Maybe it will do so for the better. Perhaps we will learn that the process improves if copper is used.”

“I still do not know why you insisted on such an elaborate and expensive experiment. The last one proved things, as I said it would.”

“This way we can calculate the cost better, and assess the profit. It would not do to start selling steel that we cannot make quickly or that will cost more than we can recover.”

Dupré fussed like an agitated old woman. “That big man out there. Why is he here?”

“To protect the shed, as I told you.”

“I do not like it. He does not speak French. I came yesterday and he would not allow me to enter.”

“If you had informed me that you were coming, I would have alerted him.”

Dupré folded his arms, unfolded them, and folded them again. “I do not like that you are making these decisions without me, as if you are hid—as if you do not trust me.”

Andrew had been eyeing one hunk of iron on which he had made some private markings. Dupré’s half-spoken words riveted his attention, however.
As if you are hiding something,
he had almost said.

Yes, Dupré was acting very peculiar today.

He went over and slid his arm around Gustave’s shoulders. “What is distressing you, old friend?”

Gustave’s mouth pursed, making him look very prim. “Nothing distresses me. I simply did not anticipate this stage. I did not expect it to take so long.” He gestured to the cylinders. “And all of this. I gave you the proof you wanted. Suddenly we are making a demonstration as if more proof is needed. You insisted that I use what little fortune I have to build all of this.”

“Most of the funds were mine. It was not unreasonable that you also take the risk.”

“So we agreed. I find myself wondering why you wanted this, that is all.”

“You sound as if you are suspicious of me. That is not good in a partnership.”

“I merely wonder if you are telling me everything.”

Fortunately, Dupré was not as subtle as he was peculiar. “You sound as if you believe that I have not. What makes you think so?”

“I do not—”

“Come, come. With such a fortune at stake, we should not have a falling out over some minor matter. Let us speak frankly.”

He watched Dupré’s debate. The choice made, Gustave’s expression assumed a haughty, superior countenance. Yes, the fool could never resist the chance to display his brilliance.

“I have reason to think that you have let me risk everything, deliberately. I suspect that this iron will mysteriously not turn into steel. You will do something, add a new chemical perhaps, that will abort the process.”

“Why in God’s name would I do something that stupid?”

“So that I will think we have failed and return to France, ruined just as the others were ruined, and the discovery will be yours alone.”

Andrew laughed. “What an elaborate schemer you think I am.”

“I
know
how good a schemer you are.”

“If I schemed this well, I would own the world. You came to me, Dupré. Or have you forgotten that? And only you know the chemical formula. Remember?”

“I am not sure that I do.”

“What?”

“I am not sure that you do not also have it. After all, I received it myself from your conspirator.”

Dupré looked insufferably superior as he said that. Very confident. Andrew would have laughed again but for the gleam of satisfaction in the man’s eyes.

“My conspirator?”

“Your secret conspirator. The man you sent out to ruin us, to protect this fine reputation that you have.”

“Dupré, if I thought that you or anyone else could harm me, I would not stop at ruin. I would simply kill you. If I have the formula as you suggest, I did not have to lure you into discovering it on the chance that you would come to me to finance this project. Think, man. You are speaking nonsense.”

The word “kill” made Gustave’s eyes bulge. His gaze darted to the door, as if checking a way to escape.

“Calm yourself. I merely point out that this plot you see is too unlikely, even for me.” Andrew tightened his grip on Dupré’s shoulders. “However, now I need to know why you believe I have a conspirator who knows this formula.”

A line of sweat moistened Dupré’s forehead. “I was told that someone else had been here, besides you and me. Another man was seen. And this same man sold me the manuscript that contained the formula and most of the process. He is also the same man who ruined the others.”

Andrew gazed at that line of sweat and found himself counting every tiny bead. A vicious chill took over his mind. “Who told you this? Who saw this other man?”

Dupré sealed his lips together. Idiot. As if he could keep silent if Andrew wanted the information.

“You say that a man sold you the manuscript that contained
most
of the process. Where did you get the rest? Through experiment?”

Dupré nodded, but the truth was in his eyes.

“Where did you get it, Gustave? This is not some mathematical proof that no one cares about. Our fortunes may depend on your telling me.”

Dupré squirmed away. His eyes widened. “How did you know? The proof—I got the calculations on the number of cells from the library, just as I did the proof.”

Jesus.

“And who sold you the manuscript?”

“Your friend, Andrew. Daniel St. John sold it to me.”

Jesus.

Andrew had a sudden mental image of a tunnel made up of sections, each of which was one of his recent connections to St. John. At the end of the tunnel, staring at him, were the contented eyes of the devil himself.

“You fool, Dupré. You absolute fool.”

“
I
am a fool! How dare you insult—”

“Put that worthless and questionable brilliance of yours to work for something practical for once.”

“Why are you shouting? I am the one who should be angry. It is clear that you have taken this St. John as a conspirator.”

“Not as a conspirator, as an investor. But you are right, he did lure you to ruin, and now you have pulled me in as well.”

“How did this become
my
fault?”

“Think.
Think.
Who would have known that the rest of the process was somewhere in that damn library?”

“It was a coincidence. It happens in science all the time.”

“It was no coincidence. You were sold the manuscript by someone who had known the man who used to own the library. Someone who knew that another man had begun working out the process, and that his notes could be found in that library.” He grabbed Gustave and gave him a firm shake. “Someone who knew how
you
came to own the library.”

chapter
24

H
e came looking for her in the dawn and dew, striding through the park with a serious, determined expression. It was the face of Daniel distracted and attentive at the same time.

Diane watched from behind a tree. The concern in his eyes increased her confusion and undermined her resolve. Whoever thought she would see the day when Daniel St. John appeared worried.

He stopped where Jeanette had told her to be, where the lake was framed by yellow flowers. When he did not see her, he peered down at the water and waited.

Her bruised heart fluttered. He appeared so handsome. Great care had been taken with his appearance. His cravat was tied to perfection, and looked suitable for a portrait sitting. His boots shined in the morning sun, making the droplets of moisture on them sparkle like diamonds. He even carried a hat, which he moved from hand to hand as if he did not know where to put it. She suspected that his valet had been both delighted and undone by the sudden fastidiousness.

She was not sure why she had come. It had been an impulsive decision. Jeanette’s revelations explained Daniel’s actions, but that was not the same as excusing them. Her heart could not absolve him completely, much as it ached to.

Perhaps it would be better to slip away, or just wait until he tired and left himself.

Without knowing why she did so, she stepped silently from behind the tree. His body stilled as he sensed her presence. He held the pose for a five count before turning around.

She wondered what he had been suppressing during that little pause. Relief? Anger?

“Jeanette said you might be here this morning. She thought that you might agree to speak with me.”

“I am here, although I am not sure why.”

“Whatever the reason, I am grateful.”

Daniel St. John, grateful? She wanted to believe that, but a new wariness, one that made her feel old and jaded, kept her cautious.

“And I am thankful that you did not try to force me to come back.”

“I almost did. I think that I may have, eventually.”

She did not miss the implications of that. He still might, eventually. At least he was honest and did not claim an equanimity about this that was not true.

“Jeanette told me about Tyndale and what he did to her. She explained why you intended to use me to get to him.”

“I can only ask your forgiveness for that. I know that I have no right to expect it.”

“I think that I understand. You had a goal and I was the means to achieve it. I was merely a lure, and not in danger. My role was a small thing compared to the luxury and comforts I received.”

“Yes.”

“You waited a long time to have your revenge. Years, it seems.”

“Yes.”

“Is it your only purpose in life? Does it own your soul?” It blurted out, revealing the pain that wanted to break her heart, and the suspicion that had grown all night.
Is there room for nothing else, not even me? Was it only passion and pity that you gave me?

“Why don’t we let heaven and hell judge my soul.” Annoyed, he looked to the ground for a moment, and then into her eyes. Fires that she knew and feared had flared. The Devil Man had emerged, called forth by her questions.

“My sister told you too much, but still not everything. Tyndale’s crime with her was actually the least of it.”

“I’d say it was great enough. I understand your hatred of him.”

“You are incapable of comprehending my hatred of him. You are too good.”

“Not so good. Not so innocent anymore, either. Two days ago I hated you a little, so I have even begun to learn about that emotion, just as I have learned about love. Perhaps you should trust me to understand. It is why you came, isn’t it?”

“I am not sure why I came. Probably in the hopes of seeing something on your face besides the disillusionment it wore when you ran away in Hampstead. I cannot bear to have that be my last image of your looking at me.”

The sad way he said that touched her. She went to him and gazed up into his eyes. He would not see disillusionment. Her reactions had become more complex and confused than that.

“You could have told me, Daniel. It would have been less of a shock then. If the confidence had come from you, my feelings for you may have conquered my dismay.”

“I almost did, several times. I intended to.

But something had stopped him. “Perhaps it is time to do so now. Jeanette said there is more.”

He looked to the water again. “I am not accustomed to speaking of it. You know my sins, or most of them. The rest does not reflect on me too much.”

“I suspect that the rest reflects on you a great deal. You will always be a mystery, Daniel. I think that a man like you is never really known. However, this mystery is one I cannot let continue, unless keeping it is more important to you than I am.”

He nodded, and breathed a sigh of resignation. “Tyndale was supposed to use the money and jewels that my sister brought to England to smuggle my family and others out of France. It was a good plan, his own, neatly worked out and sold to desperate people. Others helped him, but it was his idea.”

“So your sister said. And you came to England, but he kept her from your family.”

“That is not how it happened. Tyndale took everything, kept it, and abandoned thirty people to their fates. We waited on a strip of coast for the ship that would save us, and it never came. Instead the French army arrived, and almost all of those helpless people were taken.” His jaw clenched. “I was a boy, but I remember it clearly. Every detail. I dream about it. I see the faces, hopeful and waiting, and then in despair. The guillotine waited for most of them.”

Unlike Jeanette, he did not tell his story calmly. He snarled it, as if the pageant of betrayal played out in his head as he spoke.

“Were you taken with them?”

“I was with Louis, away from the others when the army came. We watched it all happen and then made our way back to Paris to see if my parents had been released. My father had been, but he was a broken man, his mind gone. My mother—”

He abruptly turned his gaze to the pond, looking over its water with that expression of intense distraction.

She stepped closer until her body almost touched his. For the first time she saw the pain flickering behind that veiled expression. It broke her heart, so completely did she absorb the anguish.

The pain had always been there. She had been blind, that was all. She had only seen the face he showed the world and not the emotions that the mask hid.

“What happened to your mother?”

“She died.”

“How?”

His jaw tightened. “My mother came from a family targeted by some revolutionaries. It had not mattered earlier, but then, during the terror—” He glanced at her, then away quickly, as if facing another person would make the revelation too hard. “She was executed. I walked beside her cart, although Louis tried to stop me. I was the last thing she saw before they tied her to that plank and tilted her to the blade.”

She had stopped breathing and now gasped deeply so she would not swoon.

He had watched. A child, he had watched it all.

“She had nothing to do with any of it,” he said bitterly. “But the country had become mad for blood, and she had the wrong name. It was that simple, that merciless.” He looked at her again. “I still see faces. The ugly faces of the crowd, eager to see one more head drop. The bored faces of the executioners. Her face, her terror at the end—yes, avenging that, and my sister, and all that happened, owns my soul. It has been the only purpose in my life.” He snapped the declaration so crisply that it rang like an oath.

“No wonder you did not hesitate to ruin a man at cards, to procure his wealth, or to use me as a lure. I don’t think I can blame you for any of it. After such a betrayal, and such a horrible result, I understand how the goal is more important than anything else.”

The anger and bitterness disappeared with her words, as if she had called him back from another place. His face softened so much that he appeared boyish. He took her hand in his. “Not more important than you. It astonished me to realize that you mattered more.”

“I think that you always reach your goals, Daniel.”

“Not this one, I think. Nor will you ever be the means to achieve it now.”

“I am not sure I believe that.”

“So my sister said. She told me you suspect that I married you in order to have an even better cause to challenge Tyndale later, when he continues pursuing you. You are wrong. That is not why I married you.”

“I do not expect you to admit such a thing.”

“Then do not take the word of your husband, but that of the man you now know I am. Tyndale has no interest in married women. When I took your innocence, I destroyed his fascination with you.”

“So, for a few moments of passion you ruined a great plan. No wonder you resisted me so well. I seduced you into a very bad bargain, didn’t I?”

“It was the best bargain of my life, darling.”

“No, it was not. What I offer cannot stand against the emotions bred by years of anger. I think that with time you will resent me for it.” Suddenly she realized the truth of something. “The silence that first night, after . . . you were already resenting me then, weren’t you?”

He raised her hand to his mouth and kissed it gently. “Yes.”

She had not expected that word. That honesty. It stripped away her defenses as nothing else could.

“Look at what is between us, Daniel. Deception and mysteries. You ruined my father, left me orphaned, and now I have interfered with your dark dream.”

“I cannot excuse the deceptions, Diane. I can only promise you that I do not regret the interference.”

“Truly? This must be a heavy burden. Can you live with it unresolved?”

“I think that I can live with anything if you are with me.” He kissed her hand again. “I want you to come home. Now. Say that you will.”

His closeness, his lips on her skin and his warm breath fluttering over her hand, made her dizzy. Just his presence lured her, as it always had. She sensed that he had turned the full force of his magnetism on her, deliberately and shamelessly.

She almost succumbed. Her love responded to all the parts of him that she knew to be good. But the mystery and darkness had a reason and purpose now, and could not be ignored. It excited her before and still did, but she recognized the danger in it for her love and her happiness.

“Daniel, can you abandon the revenge that you seek? Is having me so important that you will do that?”

“Is it the price you demand?”

“I am not sure that I can live with it as you have, knowing it is always in you now.”

“It is not always in me. Not anymore. When I am with you it goes away. With time, it will become a small thing.”

“Or perhaps not. Maybe someday I will awake to find you gone, and learn that you died in a duel with him, that you finally had your accounting.”

She imagined that morning. She imagined waiting for it, year in and year out, and watching the distraction in his eyes that said the day would come eventually. “I do not think that you want it to become a small thing either. Not really. So, yes, I am afraid that it is the price of having me with you.”

The ultimatum angered him. She expected him to deny her, and stride away. For a long pause there were no sounds or sights around them, just Daniel weighing and deciding as his lips pressed the skin of her hand.

Her heart beat painfully. She did not want him to walk away. Her breath caught as she comprehended just how big a choice she had given him.

His arm moved to surround her waist. He pulled her to him, so their bodies touched. Other visitors now strolled near the lake, but he did not care if they were seen.

Her breath turned ragged, as if she were being crushed even though he held her gently. Panic beat lowly in her chest. She knew her good sense would be no match for her soul’s desire to believe anything he told her.

“I do want it to become a small thing, darling. I never thought that I would. I assumed there would be nothing to replace it. I have learned that is not so.” He kissed her sweetly, as a boy might a girl. “Come home with me. Lie in my arms, and let us build a future together. We will discard the past. If you are with me, I can give it up. For you I can. If it is the price of having you, I will.”

His belief in her left her trembling and afraid. She was not sure her love could replace the hatred. It was inconceivable that she had such power. It was impossible that he wanted her enough to discard the purpose of his life.

He raised one hand in a beckoning gesture while he kissed her again, deeply. His hold became an embrace. In her daze she vaguely heard the sounds of a carriage slowly approaching and the
tsk
of a woman strolling by.

His kiss led her into euphoria. His promise dislodged her worries and she released them gratefully. He was right. They could build a future together. She could forget what he had done and make him happy, so that he never wanted to finish this long quest. Of course she could. They could. His kisses said so. His embrace demanded it. She was his and nothing else mattered.