Seduction Regency Style

by Louisa Cornell

  Robert woke grinning from a dream of Cecilia. They were in a brightly colored pavilion in Egypt. Cecilia reclined atop a thick pile of rugs, her pale blonde locks loose and fanned about her, a smile on her lips. It was a dream he could very easily make come true, if she agreed to marry him.

  His smile slipped. Her kiss, it had been so hesitant. Almost as if it was her first. Had the marquess been that cold? Could any man gaze on those bowlike lips and wide, intelligent eyes and not wish to kiss her?

  Or had the marquess done something that stifled her so, she was afraid of a man’s kiss? Renewed hatred for the dead man stirred. Robert should have returned to England years ago and put an end to him.

  Fists clenched, he swung his feet to the floor, and winced as his head remembered its mission to throb. The sunlight streaming between the curtains was instantly transformed from invigorating to painful by the steady pounding. His shoulder burned. His neck was stiff. He sat for a long moment, considering returning to bed.

  His gaze settled on a stack of clothing laid across the chair near the door, boots standing alongside. The rich fabrics and now-gleaming leather, recognizable as his own, brought Robert to his feet. That someone could have entered, even cracked the door open, without waking him was unacceptable. In Egypt, that sort of laxness got a man killed.

  He was going soft. Teeth gritted, he went to the basin, towel and soap left for him. He couldn’t recall if they’d been set out the night before when he took the room. His inobservance rankled as deeply as his sound sleep.

  Refusing to call a servant for more reasons than simple discretion, Robert saw to his ablutions and dressed. As he tied his cravat, he realized Cecilia had made sure the bandage on his neck would be covered. He was impressed she’d had the presence of mind, well aware that his barely dressed state had shaken her.

  A grin cut across his face. While the appreciative looks most women cast him were undoubtedly based on his title and fortune, Cecilia had little need for either. He liked to think his effect on her had stemmed instead from admiration. If she was immune to his money and standing, attraction was the obvious, flattering source of her wide-eyed stares.

  Though it was awkward with his shoulder bandaged, Robert donned his coat. He settled the dark fabric into place, then tugged on his shirt sleeves to expose the requisite finger lengths. An inspection in the mirror showed darkly elegant perfection. His reflection gave no indication he’d been abducted, injured or involved in a brawl of any kind. He nodded, satisfied.

  Leaving his discarded breeches for the servants to hypothesize over, Robert adopted a practiced blank expression that gave no indication he was in a compromised state and headed from the room. He closed the door softly behind him. Would Dodger, while tending the horses, have thought to fetch Robert’s gelding from the lecture hall?

  “Father.”

  Lanora’s call came from the direction of her private sitting room. Robert frowned. How did she always hear him, no matter how quietly he moved?

  He’d meant to initiate an investigation into his abduction, but he did need to speak with his daughter. Turning on his heels, he went to the open door of her sitting room and bowed. “Good morning.”

  Lanora’s hands stilled. She stitched a blanket. He could see it was already lopsided. In view of her early efforts at baby clothes, he was glad she’d switched to something less demanding.

  “Were you about to leave without speaking with me?” Her tone was accusing.

  “Yes.”

  “Papa,” she blurted.

  Robert smiled to have startled the exclamation from her. “You would prefer a lie?”

  “I would prefer you to sit down and assure me you’re well, though Cecilia already did.”

  He entered the room and selected the chair beside her settee so he could keep half an eye on the hall. He hated to sit with his back to an open door. “How is Lady Cecilia this morning?”

  “I think the incident has shaken her,” Lanora said, thoughtful. “She’s quiet. Her thoughts are obviously intent on something other than where she is and who she’s with. She’s checking Grace’s shoulder now, to reassure herself that Doctor Carter did a good enough job binding it.”

  “Doctor Carter?” That was Cecilia’s main stipulation in accepting his offer, wasn’t it? That William find a new surgeon he could trust. “Does she have reason to doubt his skill? Is he your first choice in a physician when Cecilia isn’t available?”

  Lanora’s eyes narrowed. “Those are odd questions, Father. The normal ones would be, how is Grace this morning? Or an inquiry into William’s state.”

  “I can read in your lack of agitation that both William and Miss Birkchester are perfectly well.”

  “They were still odd questions.”

  “Ones that shall go unanswered?” he asked, reading the stubborn stiffness in his daughter’s jaw.

  “I’m happy to speak of Doctor Carter if you agree to explain your interest in him.”

  Robert allowed a slight smile. She thought she was pinning him down, when really she provided him the opening to discuss plans he wished to apprise her of. “Last night, I asked Lady Cecilia to be my wife. She stipulated that William would need to find a new surgeon he could trust in order for her to consider accepting, as I require my wife to live in Egypt.” He delivered the news succinctly, anticipating her shock with amusement.

  “Dash it all,” she muttered, annoyance flittering across her features.

  Robert raised his eyebrows. “I beg your pardon?” He’d expected shock, then some show of happiness, not invectives.

  “Grace is always right.” Lanora threw up her hands, warped baby blanket dangling. “It’s downright obnoxious of her. She always knows what everyone is thinking.”

  “But what, rather, how and when could Miss Birkchester even form such an opinion?”

  Lanora shrugged. “She told me after she and Cecilia returned from Dame Parson’s ball. She said you two danced a set, and she’d lay money on you marrying before you left England. Now I owe her five pounds and a promise not to make her attend any more dances this season.”

  “That’s preposterous.” He recalled Missus Everly’s word on the subject. Did all of London think he and Lady Cecilia were in love after one set? “I danced with nearly every woman in attendance that evening, including Miss Birkchester.” Of course, the only one he could readily recall dancing with was Lady Cecilia, eyes bright with pleasure and intelligence, her touch warm when their hands met.

  Lanora offered another shrug. “Well, you must have given some indication of your love for Cecilia, because Grace read it easily enough.”

  “Love?” Robert snapped. “You and Miss Birkchester go too far.” They’d best not fill Cecilia’s head with such notions. He would not see her disappointed.

  Green eyes, so like his own, blinked at him. “You don’t love Cecilia?”

  “Certainly not.” He’d lost that ability long ago and did not wish to reclaim it.

  “Then why marry her?” Lanora’s voice was as confused as her eyes.

  “I require an heir.” Of course, Lanora and Miss Birkchester were young, and would wish to see love where only practicality reigned. “I’ve met our cousin, Mister Everly, and deemed him wholly unsuitable. He would destroy the Solworth holdings, unleash suffering among those who look to us and bring irrevocable shame on the title.”

  “And out of all the women in England, you’ve settled on Cecilia?” Lanora’s eyes filled with an aggravatingly knowing look. “I see.”

  “I can assure you, you do not.” Robert sighed. “You’ve not even twenty years. Your world is still full of notions of epic love and great passion. I’ve long since put those behind me. My choice was made in view of her intelligence, capability and bravery. Love is not--in my case, cannot be--a factor.”

  “Hm. I see.” Lanora’s tone was placating.

  Robert frowned.

  “Doctor Carter is a physician on Amber Street.” Lanora returned her attention to her unpractic
ed stitches. “Do not let the location fool you, for he keeps shop there in an effort to alleviate some of the suffering endured in the borough. He’s an excellent physician. He’s a second son and attended university with William. He would make an acceptable replacement for Cecilia, not that anyone can truly replace her.” Lanora grimaced. “And William wouldn’t have so far to travel when he gets himself injured. This house is a long way from the borough.”

  Robert closed his mouth over words of caution and protest. He’d already attempted the conversation with William and wouldn’t go behind his back by having it with Lanora. Nor was it his place to. They had to reach their own understanding about the risks William took in the name of a passion they shared, aiding the poor.

  Besides, what right had Robert, the absent father, to come back to England and give his daughter advice? He’d relinquished that privilege when he all but abandoned her over a decade ago. In truth, it was his good fortune she chose to call him father and continued to care for him. He cleared his throat, unsure what to say.

  “Will you make inquiries into your kidnapping?” Lanora asked as she stitched. “William wishes to, but I’ve forbidden him to leave his bed.”

  “I was on my way to when you called me in.”

  Lanora glanced up. “Good. Dodger is out now, asking about. If he learns anything, I’ll send him to you. Oh, and he retrieved your horse for you, yesterday.”

  “He’s very competent.” Robert could use a boy like Dodger in Egypt.

  “You can’t steal away all of William’s aid.”

  Robert raised his eyebrows. Miss Birkchester wasn’t the only one adept at guessing people’s thoughts. “I don’t intend to.” He pushed to his feet, hoping he gave no evidence that his head throbbed. Lanora didn’t need additional worry. “Now, if I may?”

  “Of course.” Lanora gave a slightly strained smile. “And, Father, do be safe.”

  He nodded, then bowed and quit the room.

  It didn’t take long for his horse to be brought, or for him to visit Jeffries and organize a discreet inquiry into the assault. It did take Robert time to convince Jeffries that he didn’t require an armed escort. Robert could understand the attorney’s concern but doubted the necessity of such a fuss. Thus, it was late afternoon by the time he reached his townhouse, only to find the Everly’s mud-spattered carriage lurking down the street.

  Robert suppressed a grimace as he dismounted, both for the pain of yesterday’s injuries and the presence of the dully-lacquered carriage. Whichever Everly had come to his door, they weren’t welcome. Even the well-intentioned Missus Everly.

  One of his groomsmen appeared. As his man led Robert’s horse away, another carriage rumbled up the cobbled street. This one gleamed, emblazoned with the Greydrake emblem. Something akin to pleasure lurched in Robert’s chest at the thought that Cecilia could be inside. He squelched the emotion, arranging his features into mild curiosity.

  The carriage halted immediately in front of him. Before the footman could clamber down, the door opened from within to reveal Cecilia. A smile turned up her delicate, full lips. He imagined her eyes brightened at the sight of him.

  Robert waved the footman off and moved forward to offer his hand. “My lady, you bring happiness to my day.”

  She placed fine-boned fingers in his. “You flatter me.” Whatever effect she hoped to cultivate with her cultured tone was disrupted by the beguiling blush that crept up her cheeks.

  “Not nearly enough.” He’d grown unaccustomed to the English obsession with gloves while in Egypt, but never resented the layers of material as much as now. “May I assume your presence before my door means you’re seeking me?”

  “You may.” Her blush heightened. “I should like a word, preferably in private.”

  Robert’s heart made another attempt at thudding joyously. Ruthlessly, he ordered a steadier beat. Rather than relinquish her hand, he deposited her fingers on his arm to lead her up the steps to his townhouse. When they reached the top, the door opened. Robert handed Cecilia inside.

  As he did, he became acutely aware of passersby, whom he normally would note only insomuch as they affected his safety and that of his home. Suddenly, they became individuals who could form conclusions and spread tales.

  Robert looked up and down the street. Those few members of the gentry who were about quickly pretended disinterest. When his hard gaze reached the spot of the Everly carriage, he was surprised to find the conveyance gone.

  Oddly apprehensive at the notion that Everly might know of Cecilia’s visit, Robert followed her inside. If she had come to agree to his proposal, he would indeed secure a special license. Everly wouldn’t be able to cause trouble if he hadn’t any warning that Robert and Cecilia were to wed.

  It was on his tongue to mention the spying carriage when he saw that she’d already divested herself of cloak, hat and gloves. His pulse quickened. It was tantamount to accepting his proposal to come alone to his home, and downright scandalous to remove her hat. Was the issue she wished to address in private one of compatibility?

  He didn’t foresee any trouble there, but he was happy to oblige her. He traced her features with his gaze, attention lingering on silken curls. He yanked off his outer garments, hardly seeing his butler as he proffered them.

  Cecilia tipped her head to the side, her look questioning. Robert noted how tightly her hands clasped before her. He worked to rein in his imagination. She might not be here for the reasons he cared to dream up.

  Two strides brought him to her. “My study?”

  To closet themselves there was less appropriate than the parlor, but the parlor, with its long couches and soft rugs, offered far too much temptation. His study boasted only a smattering of straight backed chairs, his desk, the leather chair behind it and several long tables cluttered with books and papers.

  She frowned. “In case we need paper and ink? Won’t our attorneys draw up the agreement?”

  So, she was there to agree. This time, he couldn’t suppress the flash of joy that shot through him. “Yes, but we may want to make notes. Unless you care for tea while we discuss the issue?”

  She shook her head. “No tea, thank you.”

  “This way, then.”

  He led her deeper into the Solworth London home, then down a candlelit corridor. Try as he might to suppress his excitement, each stride echoed his thudding heart. Yet he must not get ahead of himself. Cecilia’s presence, her words, bespoke her answer, but he wished to hear her say it. Stopping outside his office, he pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked the door. He pushed the wood panel open and bowed, gesturing for her to precede him.

  She walked into the room, a slender gauzy wisp, out of place in the dark interior. He hurried to light candles, and the fire. He returned to close the door, acutely aware of how his actions mirrored the evening before, and how her visit to his room had ended with him hungry for more. He quietly locked the door then came around to face her.

  She turned in a slow circle, her expression surprised. “It’s so messy.”

  Robert’s eyebrows shot up. He glanced about the dark-paneled space. Candelabras dotted the desk and tables, moved from place to place depending on what he worked on. Likewise, inkwells specked the surfaces, accompanied by quills and pages, both fresh and used. Books and even scrolls were piled in heaps, the former often sprouting ribbons like ostrich plumes, each marking a place. On his desk teetered piles of invitations, most of them likely for events that had already taken place.

  “I suppose it is,” he conceded.

  “But, you’re always so…so contained.”

  Contained? Seeing her here, bathed in candlelight, he didn’t feel contained. He felt a deep, churning restlessness that nipped at the edges of his patience. “Should you care to inspect the entirety of the home before coming to a final decision? You will find all else up to your standards of order.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend.”

  Robert shook his head, reminding it to thr
ob. “I am not offended. This room is rather disordered. At least, I can see it would appear that way. If you’ll credit me, I do have a system.”

  She glanced around again, clearly unconvinced. “If you aren’t offended, why do you seem so odd?”

  He crossed the room to take her hands, surprised to find them ice cold. “Because I’m waiting for your answer.”

  “Oh.” She stared down at their entwined fingers.

  Standing so near, he could smell the light citrusy scent that clung to her. Her hands trembled in his. Robert’s brows came together in concern. She didn’t seem the happy bride. Was she actually here to refuse him? “Cecilia?”

  “I do have an answer.” She raised clear blue eyes. “Only, there is something you must know, before I hold you to your offer.”

  Something akin to fear shot through him, strong enough to make him flinch. What could she possibly tell him that would change his mind? Was she barren? Heaven above, that would complicate things, but there would be a way. Some way…

  He gritted his teeth. The way would be to choose another. What did it matter, other than the inconvenience? It was not as if he was enamored with her. He would regret hurting her, of course, but that hurt would pass. She would find someone to salve her pain.

  He gentled his tone, for he could read the tumult in her eyes, “Tell me.”

  “It’s only… I mean, I don’t see why it would matter. Not truly.” The trembling in her hands increased. “You see, I don’t want it to be a surprise, on our wedding night. I wouldn’t wish you to be dismayed you chose me.” Her voice trailed off. She blinked back tears.

  Robert stared down at her, baffled. She’d gone white. He shot a look about the room, as if a settee had afore gone unnoticed. He should have taken her to the parlor. She looked about to faint. He didn’t even have any spirits, only tables and books. Usually a resource, they did him no good now. She pulled her hands from his and clutched them together.

  “Cecilia?”

  She shook her head.

  Robert could think of only one assurance at his disposal. He took her in his arms and kissed her. Soundly. Until she stopped trembling. Until the throbbing in his head and fear in his heart subsided and her hands clung to his jacket front.