He left his room, closed the door behind him, and then nearly jumped out of his skin when he turned and almost stepped into Sims, who had crept up to his door without a sound.
“Good, God, man. I could have killed you,” he said, shaken.
Sims scratched his shirtfront. “Sorry, sir. Your grandmother sent me to find you. It seems that Miss Penn is missing and your sister is not yet dressed. Mrs. Mandeville requests someone find her. Miss Mandeville suggested you.”
Trevor shifted, straightening his tie.
“You have no idea where she is, do you Sims? Miss Penn, that is.”
“No, sir. The last time I saw her was earlier this afternoon, when she had Winters hanging by his knees from a rod the florist’s assistants were holding over the stairwell.”
“What?”
“Yes, sir. Winters hurt his back carrying extra chairs. Miss Penn said it was the only way to straighten him out again. She said it’s the best back cure on Matarenga.”
Trevor rubbed his eyes. Unfortunately, he had little difficulty imagining Winters hanging high above the marble floor of the open foyer. “He could have broken his fool neck.”
“Actually, she cured him, sir. He says his back never felt better. He is trying to decide where to put a rod in his room so he can hang like a bat in private. He wasn’t much for the crowd that gathered to watch, you see. It set the party arrangements back a good hour.”
“Does Grandmother know?”
“Yes, sir. It was she who screamed and put an end to it all. The two florists nearly dropped the rod. But everything turned out all right.”
“This time,” Trevor mumbled.
“Now the little miss from Matarenga has gone missing, sir.”
“I’ll look for her, Sims. I have a feeling I know where she might have gone.”
Chapter Eighteen
A few moments later, Trevor stepped into the dark conservatory, closed his eyes, and breathed in the humid warmth of the air scented with the perfume of rare scented orchids.
“Joya?” He called her name softly, waiting for a response, but there was none. He felt a shaft of worry cut through him.
Could she have left the house to wander the London streets alone? He started to leave when he heard a footstep on the stone floor behind him.
“I am here, Trevor.”
He walked in the direction of her voice and saw her when she emerged between two aisles of plants. The sight took his breath away.
Janelle had outfitted her sister well. Joya’s gown of royal-blue silk exactly matched her eyes. The fitted waist emphasized her firm figure; the skirt belled over a crinoline, giving her the appearance of a china doll done up with bows and ribbons. Her hair was twisted into a simple style, one that, hopefully, would stand the test of time and dancing.
The only jewelry she wore around her throat was a single strand of pearls, with matching earrings. He had seen them on Janelle, and he knew they had once belonged to Stephanie Oates.
That his sister was not only kind, but generous with her twin moved him.
“How did you know where to find me?” Joya did not venture closer.
He shrugged. “I know that this is the closest place to Matarenga that you have found here in England.”
“I wanted to be alone.”
She looked so beautiful that he stayed where he was, afraid to shorten the distance between them. Afraid that all of his resolve not to touch her might desert him and he would break his promise to Janelle.
“It’s time to go, Joya. The guests will be arriving. Grandmother is looking for you.”
“I’m afraid.”
“Come, before you rub against a pot and get your lovely gown dirty.”
“Could I stay in my room then?”
“No. I fear they would only find you another dress. Now, come along. There’s no hope for it.”
Her sigh, trapped beneath the glass dome, carried to him. He waited until she had reached his side before he spoke again. “You look lovely tonight.” He took her hand, telling himself that was all he would do, that there was no harm in that.
“Do I look good enough to kiss?”
Even in the semi-darkness, he could see that she was finally smiling again. She was more than tempting. His arms ached to hold her, his lips to kiss her.
“We will not be kissing again,” he said, unable to keep the regret from his tone.
“Why not?” Her smile instantly faded.
He took the coward’s way out rather than go into a lengthy explanation of social mores. “I leave for Venezuela in four days.”
He heard a small gasp and then, “So soon?”
“Not soon enough. You know about the race to find the Victoria orchid. I intend to win. Three years ago I was very close to an extraordinary find there, a new species that would easily qualify. With what your father has told me, I now know which side of the mountain and what altitude might be most likely to yield the plant I’m looking for.”
“Take me with you.” She grabbed his hand and carried it to her cheek. “I know as much about orchids as my father.”
The touch of her skin made him want more. Gently, he pulled his hand away. “I can’t do that, Joya. You are better off here, with Janelle.” Well out of my reach.
“I would be safer in the jungles of Venezuela than I am here in London. Please take me. I promise I will not cause any trouble.”
He was sorely tempted to give in, seduced by an image of her aboard the ship and thoughts of trekking beside her through the jungle. To take her with him, without a chaperon, perhaps to put her in harm’s way when her father had entrusted him with her safety, was unthinkable.
He placed both of his hands on her shoulders. “I can’t take you, nor can I kiss you anymore.”
There was a long silence before she asked, “Does this mean you won’t even dance with me tonight?”
He was thankful she did not argue. “Not at all. I look forward to it.”
“That’s something, then.” She sounded disappointed, but resigned.
Thankfully, Sims chose that moment to appear in the doorway. “You are both wanted in the drawing room. Now, sir. The guests are arriving.”
“Thank you, Sims.” Trevor turned back to Joya, wondering how, if Sims had not known where she was before, he had just found them. “Are you ready?”
“There is no way out of this, then?”
“None, I’m afraid. Don’t worry. Just be yourself.”
He did not tell her that there would not be a man in the room who would not think her a vision. Suddenly he wished he had thought to go over his grandmother’s guest list and see how many eligible bachelors might be in attendance.
He turned to go.
“Wait, please, Trevor.”
Joya bent over, grabbed the hem of her gown, and reached beneath her crinoline. The contraption was made to fold, which it did, as she raised it.
“What are you doing?” He turned his back before she fully exposed her legs.
“Janelle would not let me wear my amulet pouch around my neck, so I have tied it around my waist. I just want to squeeze it for luck.”
Within seconds, he heard the sigh of her silk skirt as the fabric fell back into place again. He felt safe enough to turn around and offer her his arm as they started for the door. Then, above the rustle of silk, he heard something else—a distinct, rhythmic clacking that matched her steps. He abruptly stopped walking and when Joya did too, so did the sound.
“What is that rattling noise?” He was almost afraid to find out.
“My dog’s-tooth anklet. It took the teeth of over five dogs to make it. To dance without one is to anger the gods.”
* * *
Joya knew she would never forget this night as long as she lived. With her hand on Trevor’s sleeve, she walked into the foyer, where he nodded to some of the guests just arriving, then they joined Adelaide and Janelle in the drawing room, where guests were greeted in a formal receiving line.
Joya was in
awe of the ladies, young and old, in their lovely gowns and sparkling jewels and the gentlemen in severe, formal black evening wear.
The house had been transformed into a wonderland of cut flowers and draped garlands, ornate candelabra, and gilt-edged mirrors that reflected the light. The drawing room had been expanded by opening the folding doors that separated rooms that ran the entire width of the house. At the library end of the room, a long supper table awaited a midnight buffet.
None of the men, she decided early on, looked as fine as Trevor, even though they were all dressed in formal black trousers, waistcoats, and jackets. His shirt was blinding white in contrast to his coat and his tanned skin. He stood out among his peers, not only because of his height and the width of his shoulders, but because the others were a collection of soft-bellied, pale men. Trevor looked as if he belonged out of doors, hiking a mountain trail or sailing at the helm of a ship.
It was good to see her sister smiling tonight. Janelle was probably the happiest of them all, Joya decided. She did not know exactly how she knew, but she had been quite certain of it even before she had seen the sparkle in Janelle’s eyes. Her sister had chosen a lovely lavender gown for herself, one with much simpler lines and fewer decorative touches than her own, one that suited Janelle’s nature well.
When everyone was assembled, Trevor and Adelaide opened the dancing. Although she was dressed in her usual austere black silk, Adelaide looked younger than her years tonight. Slim and stately, she shone on Trevor’s arm.
Since the opening dance was to be a quadrille, Janelle had told Joya earlier that she could excuse herself. When Trevor led Adelaide onto the dance floor, Joya gathered her skirt and hurried to the library end of the room, where she slipped behind a tall potted palm.
The musicians started—a piano, cello, and violin—and Joya was caught up in the lovely sight of the Mandevilles and their friends moving so gracefully around the floor. They made the intricate dance pattern appear simple.
“Miss Penn. How nice to see you again.”
Nearly upsetting the potted palm, she whirled around and came face to face with Jamison Roth. It took a moment or two before she recalled Trevor’s warehouse manager’s name. “Hello, Mr. Roth. What are you doing here?”
He blinked, as if taken aback by her question. She had not seen him come through the receiving line earlier.
“I just arrived. I have been invited to the Mandeville gatherings ever since I have been in their employ. Mr. Mandeville trusts me implicitly, I might add. I hold a very high position in the company.”
Not liking the way he puffed out his chest, she turned around and peered through the palm fronds as Trevor danced by with a plump young woman on his arm.
“Miss Penn?”
“Yes?” She turned to find Mr. Roth staring at her expectantly.
“I just asked if you would grant me the next dance?”
Terrified at the thought, she looked between the palm fronds again. Janelle was dancing with an older gentleman who was a head shorter and she was laughing gaily. Adelaide had found a place at the side of the room where she could preside over the affair like a queen. Trevor was still smiling into the upturned, shining face of the plump young lady who could not take her eyes off him.
Joya could almost hear her father’s voice in her ear—Will you hide all night, girl? Get out there and take what you want. You are as good as the rest of them.
She took a deep breath, picturing the calm waters of the lagoon around Matarenga. Then she turned and looked at Jamison Roth. He was no taller than she. A bit heavier. And he had on quite sturdy-looking shoes. She squared her shoulders.
“Are you very strong, Mr. Roth?”
“I suppose. Why?”
“Then I think we should have that dance.”
* * *
Adelaide’s delight knew no bounds. Although her little affair did not qualify as a formal ball by any means, the more intimate group of fifty was a manageable number, given the size of Mandeville House. She had invited the wealthiest of the merchant class as well as a few fortune-hunting members of the aristocracy who needed to mingle with the rich but untitled, looking to refill their coffers.
She had succeeded as a hostess tonight despite the presence of Janelle’s friend Lady Cecily Martin, who had arrived in an outlandish combination of clothing— a gold satin Chinese robe embroidered with dragons and clouds, and a pile of golden bangles upon both arms.
The woman had made a great show of arriving late in the company of a very effeminate-looking little man, who was outfitted in a garish violet brocade waistcoat. His title, Viscount Arthur, kept Lord David Langley from being a complete pariah. The man’s nephew, Mr. Garr Remington, was far too handsome for his own good and rumor had it, a despicable rake.
Despite the trio, the evening was a success, which made her proud, but unfortunately, Joya Penn had not yet embarrassed herself and fallen out of favor with Trevor.
Adelaide took a glass of champagne from a footman, and thought, I cannot complain. Tonight fate had presented her with a simple means to get rid of the Penn girl with very little effort.
Early into the evening, she noticed that Jamison Roth could barely hide his lust for the girl and, being a woman who never let an opportunity slip away, she had immediately decided to do something with her new knowledge.
Now she had just returned from a few minutes of private conversation with Roth. She took a sip of champagne and her buoyant spirits faltered when Trevor waltzed by with the Penn girl in his arms.
It was his second dance with Joya, Adelaide noted. The girl’s cheeks were flushed and her eyes closed. Even more disconcerting, Trevor had a faraway look in his eyes that made Adelaide quite thankful that she had not hesitated to take action and formulate a plan.
As she watched Trevor and Joya dance past, she was astounded at the girl’s newfound grace. Obviously, her grandson was far more inspirational than the Frenchman.
Even she had to admit that they made a striking couple, but she had far too many objections to Joya Penn to consider a match between her and Trevor. She wanted nothing less than a titled young lady for her grandson, most certainly not anyone in any way connected to Clara Hayworth.
What, if anything, did the girl know of the woman who had raised her? Perhaps Joya was ignorant of Clara Hayworth’s past, but Dustin Penn surely was not. As long as Trevor was associated with either of the Penns, the secret threatened to rear its ugly head.
For now at least, she could rest assured that Dustin Penn was on the other side of the world hunting for the Victoria orchid. Once the damned orchid was found by either Penn or Trevor, once Trevor could lay claim to the title that would be awarded for the prize, she would work to sever all Mandeville Imports ties to Dustin Penn.
For now, it would be enough to get the man’s daughter out of the way.
* * *
Janelle tried to ignore the handsome man beside her, but was compelled to steal surreptitious glances. She had noted earlier that every other woman in the room, except for her sister, was doing exactly the same thing.
Cecily had warned her that Garr Remington was handsome, but she had not said anything about his looking like a Greek god. Next to Trevor, Remington was the tallest man in the room. His eyes were a clear, deep brown, his hair three shades darker, his lips full and inviting and usually smiling. For a man with a shady reputation and very little money, he seemed extremely carefree.
She had just succeeded in not looking at him for a full minute when he surprised her by leaning over to whisper into her ear. Gooseflesh rose on her neck as Garr’s warm, teasing breath tickled her skin.
“Your sister is lovely,” he whispered.
She turned to him, giving him what she thought was her coolest stare. Just as she had done with Jamison Roth, she said, “Thank you. I will take that as a personal compliment.”
He laughed. “You may be twins, but you are by far the more beautiful.”
“Now I know you are lying,” she said
, turning away again.
She could see Joya across the room dancing with an older gentleman who was both an old friend of the family and a member of the Orchid Society. Her sister, inspired by Trevor’s tutoring session the day before, had overcome her inability to dance. She was making a successful introduction to the elite of London’s merchant class, not to mention Cecily, who found Joya spontaneous and delightful.
Janelle was startled when Garr leaned close again. “I prefer a more serious, intelligent woman.”
“Oh, please, sir. Don’t insult me by feigning flattery.” Janelle tried to turn her back on him.
“No, really,” he insisted. “I speak the truth.”
“Go away.”
He showed no sign of leaving.
“I know exactly why you have come here tonight. I’ve had the truth from Cecily,” she told him.
“I will make no excuses. I’m here looking for a wife,” he admitted boldly.
“Rich?” She could not resist sliding another sly gaze in his direction, if only to see what shameless candor looked like on a man’s face.
“Very, preferably. I have expensive tastes and no money. I’m the last in a long line of wastrels.”
“You are handsome enough. You should do quite well.”
“So you think me handsome?”
“In a manner of speaking. You probably are not as good-looking as you think you are, though.”
“And you think me conceited.”
“Most definitely.”
She thought she had finally insulted him and that at last he would leave her alone, but he did not budge. Instead he merely smiled an enticing, wicked smile that no man should be allowed to possess. She found herself wishing that she had not noticed the freckles across the bridge of his nose. She had hoped they were dust specks on her spectacles.
The Orchid Hunter Page 16
