The Seducer

by Madeline Hunter

  Daniel surveyed the experiment. No, not an experiment. It was too big for that. Too elaborate. This was more a working model, to assess costs and potential.

  His suspicions had been correct. Dupré had not done this for other scientists, but to impress men from the world of manufacturing.

  Fifteen hundred pounds out of hand, Adrian had said. A significant cost. One that Dupré could not manage alone, that was certain.

  “How many keys did he have the locksmith make?”

  “Two sets.”

  “He has taken on a partner,” Daniel said. “The question is, who?”

  chapter 14

  Have nothing to do with him. It proved impossible, because Andrew Tyndale had also been invited to the party.

  Nor was it a large group that gathered at Lady Pennell’s house for the weekend. At most, thirty attended. As one of the most notable ladies who enjoyed broad circles, Lady Pennell had invited a mixed group, including a famous actor and a popular novelist as well as members of Parliament, an earl, two barons, and a viscount.

  No women from the most selective circles came, of course. Lady Pennell was not favored by the arbiters of society, even if their men found her gatherings more interesting than drinking punch at proper affairs.

  “Thank goodness my brothers agreed to attend,” Pen said as she and Diane settled into their chamber. Pen had insisted that they share one, even though their hostess had planned other arrangements. Since it had a small sitting room, they would hardly be crowded.

  “I did not realize the party would be this small. The earl cannot be tactfully avoided, I’m afraid,” Pen muttered.

  Diane suspected no one could be avoided. Not the earl. Nor Mister Tyndale. Nor Daniel St. John, when he arrived this evening.

  Have nothing to do with him. Daniel had issued that warning about Andrew Tyndale, but her heart now did so about Daniel himself. Their embrace and kisses in the woods had badly shaken her, and her thoughts had dwelled on them ever since. She suspected that the pact made in Paris had been irrevocably broken.

  The implications frightened her. So did her reactions. Not only worry had occupied her since she took her place in Pen’s coach. A wistful yearning filled her too. She miserably admitted that she was intrigued and excited by Daniel, and none of her should be, not even a tiny bit. Contrary to her rebellious threat at the brook, becoming a Margot would mean a life she could not live.

  Pen busied herself instructing a servant in unpacking her wardrobe. Diane’s own garments waited for attention later.

  “It was kind of Lady Pennell to invite me,” Diane said. Of all the invitations she had received, she found this one the most peculiar.

  “She likes to surround herself with interesting people.”

  “I am not interesting.”

  “That is not true. However, I will admit that my coming influenced your invitation, as did the hope it would encourage an acceptance by your cousin.”

  “So Lady Pennell finds Daniel interesting?”

  “Most women do. Not only his wealth and style made his way in society, but also the fascination of influential women. Actually, I think that Lady Pennell has a bit of a tendre for him now. He is handsome and confident and mysterious. His bearing and presence have raised all kinds of speculations over the years.”

  “What kind of speculations?”

  “As his cousin, you will probably find them humorous. When he arrived out of nowhere several years ago, there were rumors that he had made his fortune through piracy on the high seas. Others whispered he had used his ships for special services for the navy. Some insisted he was a French émigré as a boy, from the revolution, and has blood much richer than he claims.” Pen laughed and raised an eyebrow. “Which means, of course, that you do as well.”

  Diane forced herself to laugh too. “If we did, I should know, shouldn’t I?”

  “Well, as I said, it was all speculation. No one really knows his history, so stories are created.” Pen gave her a quizzical, encouraging glance.

  Diane could hardly satisfy Pen’s curiosity about Daniel, since she herself knew very little of his history. Admitting that would reveal the lie about their relationship. That would definitely give everyone something to speculate about.

  To avoid further conversation on the topic, she left Pen to the unpacking and went into the little sitting room to wait her turn.

  A serving girl arrived with a tray of refreshments. As she set it on a table, she eyed Diane with blatant curiosity.

  She headed back to the door, but stopped. She flushed and curtsied. “My apologies, Miss Albret, but may I ask you a question?”

  “Of course. What is it?”

  “I come from Fenwood, and the vicar there is named Albret too. Are you related to him?”

  Diane stared at the pretty girl, with her muslin cap and lovely skin and bright blue eyes. She found herself unable to respond, because her heart began beating so hard and fast it pained her.

  “My apologies,” the girl said. “It was inappropriate for me to ask, it is just that I found it curious, what with you being French and all. . . .”

  “I am not aware of relations in this town you mention, but if some are there, I would like to know. Where is this place?”

  “Why, not more than a couple hours’ cart ride from here. It is a village near Brinley. Mister Paul Albret has been vicar there forever, since before I was born.”

  Diane could not believe her good fortune. If this servant girl had been even a speck less bold . . .

  “What is your name?”

  “Mary.”

  “I am grateful that you spoke to me, Mary. I may have never learned of this possible relative otherwise.”

  “Oh, I doubt that. There’re lots of us from the area, serving in the houses of this county. You’d have met one of us eventually.”

  “Mary, is this vicar in residence there now? If I sent a letter of inquiry, would he receive it, do you think?”

  “He lives there. Always has.”

  “Did you know his children?”

  “Before my time, they was. Two girls and a boy, seems to me, but they all left years ago. I’ve never heard of them coming back. My family doesn’t know the vicar well, since we are Wesleyan.”

  The sitting room with its classical mahogany furniture suddenly felt confining. The notion of being imprisoned in this house with this party struck Diane as a terrible inconvenience. The answer to the relentless questions in her soul could be waiting a few hours away.

  “Thank you, Mary.”

  Perhaps she would find a way to visit this town that Mary spoke of. Meanwhile, she could at least make contact with the vicar and see if he knew anything.

  While Pen fussed with the wardrobe in the next room, Diane sat at the writing desk and began composing a letter.

  “One would think this was Parliament and a vote had been called,” Pen said. She sat beside Diane in the drawing room after dinner.

  Diane squeezed her hand sympathetically. Although distracted by thoughts of a partly written letter, and by distressingly insistent memories of kisses in the woods, Diane could not miss the social drama unfolding.

  The party had not been arranged to create a confrontation between the Earl and Countess of Glasbury, but the presence of both of them affected everything. Expectation rippled through the guests. During dinner, glances darted to the end of the table where the estranged couple sat too near to ignore each other.

  As soon as the men had rejoined the ladies, two groups had subtly formed. The guests announced with their placement and conversation which side they had chosen. Diane eyed the larger cluster around the earl, and the presence of Andrew Tyndale by his side. Daniel, who had arrived shortly before dinner, mingled with the group near Pen. The Duclairc’s solicitor, the brooding Julian Hampton, stood nearby too, observing but rarely participating.

  The Viscount Laclere lent his prestige as he had promised, but it was Vergil who literally stood at Pen’s side.

  “Th
ey have abandoned me. It was to be expected, I suppose.” Pen whispered the observation as her gaze directed Diane to the women across the chamber. Few ladies rallied near the settee.

  Pen’s expression and poise said that nothing untoward was happening. Diane felt her friend’s embarrassment, however. She saw in Pen’s eyes the realization of the full cost of separating from her husband.

  Pen suddenly stiffened. The Earl of Glasbury, a slender man of middle years with gray hair, thick eyebrows, and a slack mouth, had crossed the divide and was aiming their way.

  Pen’s circle eased back to allow room for private combat. Everyone made a display of not noticing, even while dozens of eyes managed to keep his progress in view.

  “At least no one is licking lips in anticipation,” Pen whispered.

  “What impressive restraint.”

  The earl’s gaze narrowed on Pen. He struck Diane as the sort of man who enjoyed looking down on people, as he did his wife now.

  “How are you faring, my dear?”

  “I am faring quite well.”

  “Indeed you are. The whole town speaks of it. You have become the envy of every mindless female of little wit and less discretion. You have your own house and carriage. You have the freedom to behave scandalously. You have the pleasure of nurturing a tradesman’s cousin.”

  Diane did not miss the emphasis and its insinuation.

  Daniel heard, even standing ten yards away. His lids lowered, but he did not otherwise react.

  “See here—” Vergil began.

  “Thank you, but I will handle this, Vergil.” Pen had shrunk as the earl approached, but now her spine straightened. “It is unwise for a shameless libertine to impugn another man in such a way, my dear.”

  “Also dangerous,” Vergil added.

  The earl sneered. “The world has gone to hell these last years, what with countesses and duchesses being so indiscriminate. As if money and a handsome face make a man.”

  Pen smiled. “Better money and a handsome face than sour, degenerate old blood.”

  “It is a wonder that you came, if you despise Lady Pennell’s circle so much,” Vergil said.

  “One hopes that her parties will be more agreeable after tonight. Besides, I came so that I could see my wife. It is time for this embarrassing estrangement to cease.”

  “You wasted your time, then. I will not return to you.”

  “If I decide that you will, there will be no choice. The law—”

  “Do anything to coerce the countess, and the law will know all of it.” The threat did not come from Vergil. Julian Hampton had strolled over to listen, and now interrupted with a very quiet voice.

  The earl glared at him. “She wouldn’t dare.”

  Hampton gazed over the assembly, both seeing all and seeing nothing. “Of course she will. You believe it, or you would have never agreed to the terms of separation I negotiated. Now, I had planned to spend these days in town, not being bored at a country party. It seems to me that this house and group are large enough that you and the countess need not speak again. Indulge me on this, so that tomorrow I can take my leave.”

  He strolled away, to speak to no one.

  Livid, the earl left too.

  “My apologies for how he insulted you and your cousin,” Pen said. “Also for the way he spoke so freely in front of you.”

  Diane knew he had spoken so freely because he considered her too insignificant to waste discretion on. Just as men like him did not see the presence of servants, he had disregarded her.

  Vergil leaned and whispered in Pen’s ear, but Diane heard anyway. “Where is your chamber?”

  “In the eastern wing. I insisted that Diane share it with me.”

  “Good girl. I will come visit, in any case.”

  The drawing room was emptying when Vergil approached Daniel. “Hampton and I are going to play cards. Why don’t you join us?”

  “I think not. I rarely gamble with friends.”

  “Indulge me, St. John. I am facing a long night, and since Hampton never talks, it will be unbearable.”

  Daniel reluctantly agreed. Vergil could ill afford to lose at cards, which meant that Daniel would have to arrange to let him win. He did not mind that, but it made the game less interesting.

  He joined Vergil and left the drawing room. They did not enter the library as Daniel expected. Instead, Vergil pointed him to the staircase. “Pen’s chamber has a sitting room. No reason to make the servants stay up to accommodate us, and if we play there, that will not be necessary.”

  As they mounted the staircase, another man headed down. Andrew Tyndale blandly acknowledged them both as he passed.

  Daniel stopped Vergil. “Why not invite him too? Four will make the play more diverting.”

  “Best not to.”

  “Duclairc, we are going to play cards in that sitting room to protect your sister in case the earl arrives tonight with dishonorable intentions, am I right?”

  Vergil’s face hardened at having it so bluntly laid out.

  “How much better if one of the earl’s friends is sitting there with us. Less chance of things getting out of hand should your suspicions be correct.”

  Vergil grudgingly nodded. He followed Tyndale down the stairs, calling for his attention.

  Daniel watched the invitation being given. This night of cards might be interesting after all. He did not like to win against friends, but he had no such compunctions about enemies.

  Vergil returned with Tyndale in tow. Hampton was waiting at the top of the second landing. The four of them trailed through the east wing to Pen’s sitting room.

  “Now, you must all promise not to get drunk and raucous and keep us up all night,” Pen admonished as they moved a table and chairs into the center of the room. In expectation of their arrival, she had called for wine and whisky.

  “Us” turned out to be her and Diane. Daniel had not realized they were sharing a chamber. He guessed that having her companion nearby was another attempt on the countess’s part to thwart any attempt by the earl to claim his husbandly rights while they spent the night under the same roof.

  It also meant that Daniel would have Diane nearby on this night. The chamber was not large, and her proximity instantly heightened the tension that had been silently stretching between them since he arrived at this house. The whole evening he had felt her awareness of him, and of what had happened, even if she pretended he did not exist.

  She continued ignoring him now. She sat at the writing desk, scratching something onto a paper, showing no interest in the men as they settled down to play. The countess perched on a bench. It appeared that the women would stay a short while before retiring, to make it appear a private party.

  Daniel took the chair at the table that allowed him to watch Diane, even though she would distract him. He did not want Tyndale in that position. Watching Tyndale watch Diane would distract him worse.

  His sly move served little purpose. Diane completed her task and joined the countess on the bench. That put her in an excellent location for Tyndale to smile at her and for her to smile back.

  Diane also smiled at Vergil and Hampton. The only person whom she did not favor with attention was Daniel himself. She went to great pains not even to look his way, as she had all evening.

  He wasn’t fooled in the least. They might have been alone, embracing, so taut was the connection between them. She may not want that, she might even resent it, but it was undeniably there, affecting the air and time and light.

  “Your play is off, St. John,” Hampton said as Daniel lost another ten pounds to Andrew Tyndale.

  “Perhaps it is not that his play is off, but that Mister Tyndale’s is on,” Diane offered.

  Tyndale enjoyed the flattery to an unseemly degree.

  Daniel caught Diane’s gaze as it swept past him. He held it and allowed himself a brief, intense, and vivid memory of their embrace by the brook, one full of her sighs and yielding, of what had happened and what almost had. Her color
started rising, as if his gaze communicated the image and the sensations.

  “Why don’t we raise the stakes?” Daniel asked. “You gentlemen should benefit from my weak play.”

  “Certainly. Might as well make it worth our time,” Tyndale said.

  Hampton offered no opinion, but his glance toward Daniel held speculation. “Perhaps the ladies would like to retire. We can continue on our own.”

  “Goodness, no,” the countess said. “Not when the real fun begins. Besides, I need to be here to drag my brother away before he ruins himself.”

  Vergil sighed. “Hell, Pen, it isn’t as if I am Dante.”

  “Speaking of Dante, the last I saw he had Mrs. Thornton making silly cooing noises as they perused some book,” the countess said. “Where is he, Vergil?”

  “I believe that he has retired, madame.” Hampton’s tone suggested that the less asked about the circumstances and location of Dante’s retirement, the better. He began dealing the cards. “Fifty pounds, gentlemen?”

  Tyndale and Vergil nodded. Hampton glanced to Daniel for agreement.

  The high stakes appeared to distress Diane, and not because she feared her benefactor might see the worst of it. Daniel got the distinct impression that she worried only for Tyndale.

  Her manner provoked him. Every cool expression denied the truth and rejected the way they were totally together in those embraces and still were in this chamber. Worse, she now deliberately encouraged Tyndale, despite the warning she had received.

  An edgy annoyance grew in his head. He kept it in check, but it affected him anyway. He had foregone the dream of a lifetime for the pretty woman now fussing over her would-be assailant. He had sacrificed it for her and for something that could not even be, and she acted as though he meant nothing to her, even though she melted whenever he touched her.

  He turned his attention to Tyndale.