The Trouble With Seduction (26 page)

***

The next morning Damen sat in a chair at his brother’s bedside, hunched over, his elbows on his knees. “I’m in agony, Cory. I’ve gone and fallen in love. I know, I know. I’m an idiot. Can’t explain it. The more I get to know her, the more wonderful things I discover.”

He grinned at his brother. “She’s kind, brave, intelligent, and she has this funny way of making me feel like I’m perfect in her eyes. All right, so maybe she is a little daft. When I’m with her, I am, too.” He laughed.

“I know it’ll never work between us. Her late husband deceived her and she hates liars. Which is all I’ve done since I met her. Do you know your Mrs Ivanova is so eager to find the plans, she told me to make Lady Strathford fall in love with me? The trouble is, I’m the poor sot who’s fallen in love.”

A knock at the door silenced him.

“Enter.”

“Telegram and an urgent letter for you, Mr Ravenhill.” Perkins, his father’s butler, held out a silver tray.

Damen ripped open the telegram and read the terse message.

He groaned and tore open the letter underneath marked ‘Urgent!’

“Thank you, Perkins. That will be all.” Irritation sank its teeth into him as Damen gazed down at his silent brother. “Your fiancée bellows. How did you ever settle on such a termagant? So now, if you continue to doze, I have less than two weeks to find your attackers. Damen crumpled the letter and threw it against the wall.

“To catch you up on the rest, I’m making slow progress unraveling who attacked you. It would be easier if I didn’t have to deal with so many women.”

He held up a hand to point to his fingers. “So far the count is: one mistress, one horseback-riding acrobat, one madam, one alleged murderess, and one fiancée.” He cursed under his breath. “How many more women are set to crawl out of the woodwork?”

Damen fiddled with the blanket. “On a more entertaining note, Lady Strathford, Miss Calista Collins, Lumsley, and I saw a show at Astley’s. Fine program. Oh, and I met your pretty acrobat. It’s the first time I truly feared for my manhood. She mistook me for you and nearly ravaged me. Then I mistook her for Mary Turner, and she nearly put a knife in my back. I’m afraid I highly offended her – mistaking her for a brothel madam. I’d suggest—”

Sudden movement caught his eye. Cory’s fingers twitched wildly.

Damen bounded from his chair to gaze about his brother’s body. “Cory? Are you finally waking? Are you trying to tell me something?”

CHAPTER 23

Later that day, Damen scaled a familiar flight of stairs with a box of food for Granny Wilkins. It warmed him to discover her still alive. She’d been a rather odd old duck who’d saved lemon drops for him and made him feel cherished.

In truth, she wasn’t his grandmother but his great aunt. As a boy, he’d bounded up these very stairs bringing her meals from his grandfather’s pub.

This building had always been one of the more hospitable in the area.

Now that he knew his father owned the tenement, he took special notice. Though old and far from level, the floors appeared freshly swept. The walls were not defaced and the latrines did not overflow into the street.

He knocked on the familiar old door, not knowing what to expect. It had been nearly twenty years since he’d last seen her. He waited and was about to knock again when he heard the lock rattle. After a few moments, the door slowly creaked open.

Deeply hunched, leaning on her cane, and now completely white-haired, Granny peered out. “Who’s there?”

He glanced around the hallway, making sure no one was listening before he whispered, “Granny, it’s Damen come to bring you dinner.”

“Damen? Little Damen Ravenhill?” She squinted up at him. “I may be half blind, but you’re not Damen.” She gave the door a shove.

He blocked it with his foot. “No. It’s me, Granny, all grown up.”

She screwed up her eyes. “Come closer, let me have a better look at you.”

“I’m not very presentable. A few knuckles have worked over my face, Granny. But I did bring you your favorite dessert, berry stickies.”

Her mouth curved into a toothless grin. “Berry stickies? Why didn’t you say so?” She pulled the door wider.

The place had changed a little. She’d painted it yellow sometime in the past two decades. Coal smoke outlined where a picture once hung. Different chairs sat by the window, but the place still appeared the same. He walked over to her table and set down the box.

“I brought chicken, mutton, onions and carrots, a loaf of bread, and some apples. Are you hungry, Granny?”

“I’m always hungry.”

“Then come sit down and tuck in.”

Pulling herself along with her cane, she slowly made the few steps to the table. Damen helped her get seated and sat across from her.

“Be sure and thank your mum for sending the food.” She pulled out a berry sticky from the box and chewed happily, humming with enjoyment.

“Mum died in the cholera outbreak over twenty years ago. That’s when I left St Giles.”

“You left? No. You’ve brought me dinner these past years, and I am mighty grateful. Mighty grateful.” She ate more of her berry sticky while Damen asked questions, some of which she answered coherently; with others she seemed rather confused.

“Granny, my father is very sick. I’m helping him sort out some financial problems. He owns buildings in the neighborhood. Since he’s become ill, his rents have gone down thirty percent.”

“Gone down?” She fished out a chicken leg from the box. “The rents here have gone
up
twice this year. I’m lucky your father gives me an income. Enough to move someplace nicer, but this is home. I know everyone and everyone knows me.”

“Who raised the rents, Granny?”

“Mr Woodley, the manager, of course. Everyone’s been talking about how rents have risen in most of the buildings on this street.”

The couple at Sarah’s mission had voiced their anger over the rent increases. Granny now verified it. He felt like he was finally making progress. Falgate’s rent declines meant the money was being siphoned off somewhere else.

And he intended to discover where.

***

Sarah still floated in a cloud of euphoria as the cab pulled in front of a tenement. How she loved Mr Ravenhill. Their night together made her feel whole and fulfilled and strong enough to conquer the world. Today, even St Giles seemed brighter.

She exited the cab with new vigor and held her skirt in one hand to step over debris in the street. When Mr and Mrs O’Flarety told her about their egregious rent increases, she decided to see what she could do to help.

On reaching the sidewalk, she smoothed down her gown and tucked an escaped lock of hair back up under her bonnet.

The three-story wood tenement stood next to two others of similar decrepitude. Lines of laundry hung between the buildings above a narrow side yard. As planned, the young couple stood waiting for her on the first level outside the manager’s apartment.

Sarah smiled, nodded her hellos, and wrapped on the door. After a few moments it creaked open.

A man with a white beard hung on to the doorknob, clutching his back as if in pain. “What can I do fer you?” His eyebrows beetled as he inspected Sarah’s gown and back up to her bonnet.

She’d made sure to wear her most conservative mourning dress, a worn, high-necked, loose-fitting cotton. Unfortunately, in this neighborhood, it still gave the impression of means.

“Mr Woodley?” Sarah asked. On his nod, she continued, “I am Sarah Strathford. Might I speak with you about your tenants, Mr and Mrs O’Flarety?”

His lips wrinkled downward and he squinted one eye.

“As you may know, they’re a hard-working young couple. Mrs O’Flarety is due to have a child in two months. Recently you gave them a rent increase. Their rent is already higher than others in the neighborhood, and with the new babe, they can ill afford it.”

“Then they’re free to leave. I’ll fill their place soon enough.”

“Have they been quiet, considerate tenants?”

“I suppose so.”

“Paid their rent on time?”

“Aye.”

“Hasn’t Mr O’Flarety helped you on occasion, most recently to clear the drainage and carry heavy items when needed?”

“Yes, ‘m.”

“And he didn’t charge you. Wouldn’t such work generally have to be paid for?”

“Yeees.” He drew out the word.

“Then wouldn’t it save you work, time, and lost income to keep them on so you will be assured of steady rent and Mr O’Flarety’s help should you need it again?”

Woodley grimaced and arched as he rubbed his back. “Yes,” he finally growled.

“So may I tell them to disregard the new rent increase?”

He stepped forward to look down the hallway in both directions. The couple stood humbly to her left. “All right,” he said and gave them a hard look. “But if I hear you’ve told others what I’ve done, I
will
raise it.”

“Thank you, Mr Woodley,” Sarah beamed. “Good day to you.”

When he closed his door, they went to the O’Flaretys’ tiny apartment where they could talk quietly. The couple grinned and shook her hand.

“Thank you kindly for your help, ma’am,” Mr O’Flarety whispered. “We’d not the courage to ask.”

“I’m pleased I could help,” Sarah whispered back. “Will you be attending arithmetic lessons later?”

“Wouldn’t miss ’em,” the couple whispered in unison.

***

Damen’s heart surged as he watched Sarah leave the building. There was no denying, he was in love with her. And what he’d overheard while standing at the top of the stairs impressed him immensely.

Granny verified the rents had been raised twice this year. Yet Sarah convinced the manager not to raise the young couple’s rent. The courage of that shy, quiet woman astounded him.

She was like a mother and father to these people, an egalitarian with a strong sense of fairness. She donated food and clothing to the needy; educated their children; advised the ignorant how to avoid thieves and sharks; and now, she’d talked a property manager into lowering the couple’s rent.

He exited the building to see Sarah walking briskly down the street toward her mission. At a street corner, she stopped to peer into a storefront.

He strolled up next to her and glanced about the hat display inside the window. “Fancy seeing you here, my lady.”

She gasped in surprise and beamed, her eyes darkening when they met his. “Mr Ravenhill, have you come to volunteer at my mission again?”

Her love-filled gaze almost made him weak in the knees, overpowering him with memories of agitation and hunger, emotions stripped bare, the giving and taking, and all the raw sensations of searing pleasure. Joy quivered through him. “Yes,” was all he could say. He hadn’t planned on visiting her mission, but if it meant being with her, he couldn’t resist.

“I didn’t see you behind me. Did you take a cab?”

“No.” He pointed to the tenement they’d both left. “Visiting an old friend.”

“You mean that building?” She gestured to the same one.

He nodded and wondered what she’d say if she discovered that bargaining down the rent for the O’Flaretys would affect his family’s income – had someone not already skimmed off the lion’s share?

“Did you overhear our discussion?” Even filled with concern, her voice exuded sultry warmth.

“Not a word, my lady.” He glanced about them before whispering, “I wouldn’t want the O’Flaretys’ rent increased.”

“Oh. You’re a scoundrel, Mr Ravenhill.” A smile quivered on her lips.

“I was leaving the building when I overheard you... You never cease to amaze me with your many capabilities. When you set your mind to something, you are irrepressible.”

He eased closer. “I didn’t know you’d a talent for negotiation, or that your charity made sure the poor received fair housing treatment.”

Color rose in her cheeks. “Oh, stop, you’re making me blush. The owners of these derelicts should be ashamed of themselves. It’s scandalous the way the poor are treated. The degradation, the filth, the squalor.” She fanned her arm around the street to encompass all the buildings.

He highly doubted she knew most of them belonged to his father. One day they’d be his.

It was probably underhanded of him not to inform her of that fact. But the part of him that was in love with her, the part of him that didn’t want to disappoint her, couldn’t confess. He was already well and truly buggered. Why poke more holes into a sinking ship? Right now, he was Cory, a condition that probably wouldn’t last much longer. And he didn’t want to spoil one moment of the time they had left together.

***

Sarah and Mr Ravenhill climbed the steps to her mission. When she reached the top, she saw a small sign tacked to the door. “Closed today.”

“Why is my mission closed?”

Multiple locks rattled and the door flew open.

“Good day, Lady Strathford.” Mrs Billings, her mission manager, stood in the doorway. Her gaze darted warily about the street as she ushered Sarah and Ravenhill in. “I have some disturbing news. You may want to sit. Would you like tea?” She looked at each enquiringly.

Both shook their heads.

Sarah knew the mission being closed meant something bad had happened and much preferred to get right to the point. Her manager, she knew, thought it more prudent to let unpleasant details leak out gradually so as not to overexcite the listener. Hence, she had learned tea always preceded bad news.

Mrs Billings clutched her hands and her brows curved into lines of worry. “As you know the precipitous decline of our students has been concerning. Both boys and girls are half the number they were only a few months ago. We hired a new teacher and a very proficient new cook, yet the children continued to drop out. Very few new students have joined our classes.”