The group had been erudite, most with patents to their names. They’d arrived in unkempt, wrinkled suits, tea-stained cravats, some had missing teeth, and most were in need of a good scrub and a barber. What limited conversation she’d coaxed from her dinner guests centered around their latest papers and inventions. Other than a few cordial comments, she’d been ignored in favor of her husband’s attention.
By contrast, now one very masculine, very charming, perhaps the finest specimen of a man she’d ever seen, sat at her table – his whole attention concentrated on her.
Sarah clutched at her collar. Mr Ravenhill looked good enough to eat. In his natty clothes, he could have been a magazine fashion plate. Except for his face.
He’d said nothing of it over dinner, but it appeared he’d gained another couple of abrasions. On removing his gloves to eat, his knuckles looked skinned.
“Did those villains find you, Mr Ravenhill?” She made a speaking glance at his hands.
“Cutpurses.”
“Oh, dear.” She leaned over to place a hand under his chin and gently turned his head. “They beat you!”
“Naw, a nick or two. Had a little fun with them.”
“Them? How many ‘thems’ were there?”
“Not enough.” White teeth flashed in a smile that made her next breath a little uneven.
He actually seemed happy about it and licked his sensuous lips as if trying to keep his grin from growing. Health and youthful vibrancy shimmered off him. And the way he looked at her, he didn’t appear sated at all. Matter of fact, if he were a wolf and she a rabbit, she’d do well to run.
“I’ll be sure to inform cook of your compliments about the meal, Mr Ravenhill. Shall we begin our search?”
For such a tall man, he slid out of his seat with fluid grace.
Her heart made a little stutter when he helped her to her feet and wrapped her hand around his elbow. She could feel the warmth, the muscular tension, and the vigor pulsing under his sleeve.
His vitality and masculine energy made her as taut as a bowstring. What had she been thinking inviting him to dinner? It had seemed like the right thing to do this morning.
She wanted to thank him for bringing her safely through the most harrowing experience of her life. It had been dangerous and death-defying and one of the most exciting things she’d ever done. The experience made her realize how much of the world she’d missed, how cloistered her life had been.
After seeing his heroic actions, her already breathless regard for him nearly turned into a fever. Their closeness stirred places she’d thought withered. And she needed reassurance he’d kissed her because he wanted to.
The past few days had changed her thoughts about men and women. In arranged marriages, she’d been told, love would grow. Her marriage to Hardington had been a sterile, loveless affair due to their vast age difference and his early demise.
When Edward passed, she’d grieved for him, and for the future and family she’d envisioned having. She’d known him longer and did care for him – often with dazzled admiration, in a daughterly, pupil-teacher kind of fashion. In some ways he’d coddled and spoiled her. In others she’d never felt so cold or lonely.
But neither husband summoned such desire, or deep craving to be with them, like Mr Ravenhill. Additionally, just being in his company gave her courage and strength. He was more than a dark knight; he seemed committed to helping her clear her name of killing Edward.
Much of Ravenhill’s life still remained a mystery, but she was convinced that beneath his charm and good looks was a noble, honorable man. In short, she admired and trusted him.
Still, was it enough to warrant taking him through rooms she’d avoided for over two years? Edward’s most personal belongings were locked behind those doors. The sight and smell might reopen the shock and pain of his death. She would be glad for Ravenhill’s support, but her insides quaked at revisiting those memories.
Would she even be able to cross the threshold?
Her hand shook as she grasped one of the tall candelabra.
“Are you ready, my lady?” Ravenhill’s deep voice had a gentleness that made her insides go soft.
She bit her lip and exhaled. “It’s time I faced those rooms.”
They slowly ascended the staircase to the second floor. At the elaborate set of heavy paneled doors, she handed him the candelabra and fingered the keys, half-waiting for memories to come crashing over her.
Instead, she became acutely aware of Ravenhill. Heat radiated off him, kindling more inside her. She gazed up at him. Was it proper to bring a man she felt so drawn to into the private rooms of her deceased husband? Were there any rules governing such a thing? She clutched the key to Edward’s room. Its sharp edges bit into her palm as pressure mounted in her chest.
Her father would definitely frown on her entering a bedchamber, unchaperoned, with any man other than her husband. But her father was dead, and she’d vowed to shed his controlling noose.
Slowly, she unlocked the door and pushed it open. Light and shadows cast by the candles danced around the dark wood paneling. A stale mustiness drifted toward them filled with the familiar scents of Edward’s cologne, pipe tobacco and perfumed pomade.
Shortness of breath made her falter in the doorway. The faint scents brought her husband alive in her memory. Grief threatened to overwhelm her. If Ravenhill had not been with her, she would have relocked the door and left.
“My lady?” Concern filled Ravenhill’s voice.
She turned back to him, biting her lip.
He took her hand in his. “Would it be easier if I led the way?”
She nodded and stepped back for him to precede her.
Slowly, he led her into the room, set the candelabra on the dresser and lit the lanterns and sconces. Glimmering light soon bathed the room. It didn’t seem as forbidding any more.
“Nothing has been touched in here since he passed,” she said in quiet reverence.
Sympathy shone in Ravenhill’s eyes as he gazed about her face. “Do you feel strong enough to continue?”
At her nod, he led her to the long chest of drawers. Edward’s toiletries sat on top.
“Did you ever meet my husband?”
“Yes, at a lecture.” He picked up a silver cup. Edward’s false teeth rattled inside. “Did your husband not wear his teeth all the time?”
“He took them out to sleep.”
They quickly searched the long chest, finding nothing of import. Ravenhill took her hand and led her to the side of Edward’s bed where he examined the paneling above the headboard. It made her nervous to stand with him next to her husband’s bed.
She searched her memory. For the life of her, she couldn’t remember Edward leading her to this bed. She’d never slept in it. Had she ever even been in it? Everything around her started to look foreign.
“What time was your husband’s accident?” His voice seemed to come from a distance.
She blinked. “I was told around one in the morning.”
He ran one hand around the edges of the molding, his brows furrowing.
“Is there something there?”
“Sometimes the paneling at the head of the bed holds secret spaces. But I see nothing.” He bent down to peer under the bed before leading her to the closet.
Again Edward’s faint scent clung to his clothes and gave her a few moments of disorientation.
“My lady?” Mr Ravenhill’s gentle rumble brought her back.
She took a few steadying breaths. “I’ll be all right. Shall we continue?”
After a thorough search, he led her to the three lavish bookcases built into the wall. Their ionic pilasters and volutes on their frontispieces made each a work of art.
He drew out a book and read the title. “Cyclopaedia of Electrical Engineering by Alfred Urbanitzky. Your husband liked a little light reading before bed?” He thumbed through a few pages before replacing it. “Impressive collection.”
They each took a bookcase an
d searched for notes or papers, anything that might lead to the plans. Again, nothing referred to a small engine.
“Clearly, Edward kept his rest and his work separate. Perhaps we should have another look at his office.”
“A minute, please.” Ravenhill backed up several steps, folded his arms over his chest and gazed about the bookcases. “The symmetry between these two is slightly off.” He walked closer, studying first one pilaster and then the next before running his hand down the side of one.
A portentous click riveted her spine.
The bookcase swung toward him.
She peered into the darkness… into a hidden passageway… a hidden passageway connected to Edward’s room.
She didn’t need to question if her husband had known about it. Of course he had. And that suggested he’d kept a raft of secrets and a whole other life he’d never revealed.
Sarah had lived in this house five years and never known this hidden door existed. After their mad rookery dash, she’d wondered if Ravenhill might already know his way about the labyrinth. Now she wondered if he had a gift for finding secret passages.
“As I suspected, my lady. The tunnel downstairs is not the only one. Shall we see where this leads?”
At her nod, he retrieved the candelabra and led her through the opening.
Sarah was grateful he’d given her his hand. He’d wonderful hands – large, strong hands. They made her feel safe and gave her reassurance when her home suddenly seemed mysterious and alien. Finding this secret passage rattled her more than being chased by five ruffians.
After a dozen paces, they reached a narrow stairway and descended a flight down into darkness. In the next hallway, Ravenhill raised the candelabra and slowly moved along the wall. Another latch clicked and the wall slid outward.
The sound gave another thump to her solar plexus. She exhaled unevenly and peered through the opening. They now stood between the two bookcases in Edward’s office.
“My lady, did you know these existed?”
Sarah swallowed, shook her head, and looked back at the stairway. “There’s another tunnel off to the side.”
“Shall we see where it leads?” He closed the secret door and took her hand again.
The tunnel led to a little alcove, reminiscent of the tight places in the rookery. “I can’t believe I never saw this,” Sarah said, dismayed. “It’s directly off the tunnel leading outside.”
Ravenhill stood so close she could feel the heat rolling off him. In a low, gentle voice, he asked, “Did you ever notice your husband come or go unexpectedly?”
“No.” She exhaled. She’d trusted Edward implicitly. Never once had she questioned his long absences or late nights. His ‘important’ experiments took precedence over everything else. Those ‘experiments’ very well could have been other women. But he needed to keep his wife ‘occupied’ while he took himself elsewhere.
As a brilliant inventor, he came up with a unique solution – make her satisfying, erotic toys and give her a few stern lectures on how it was a man’s responsibility to initiate intimacy.
How silly she’d been, hoping there’d been a mistake when Mr Ravenhill informed her of her husband’s laboratory in St Giles. In her too-trusting ignorance she’d been certain Edward would have told her that he rented the Falgate warehouse.
Now she saw he could have come and gone at will. He could have kept a woman or several without her ever knowing. She clutched at the ache stabbing her stomach. Why did he deceive her so? How could she have been so blind?
“Were there ever people about your home who unaccountably appeared or disappeared?”
“I… I don’t know. I don’t think… if there were, I never saw them.” She quivered with sorrow, anger and embarrassment. Until Edward died and she received his keys, she’d not known of the mansion’s secret entrance. She accidentally found it while putting flowers in the chapel. Now they’d discovered more hidden passages existed.
What a naïve gull.
“Shall we retrace our steps, my lady?” Ravenhill led her back up the stairs and extinguished the lanterns and sconces in Edward’s room.
She’d always thought her husband highly considerate, not making noise when he came in late. Now she realized he probably never passed her door. He could have left the house entirely without anyone being any the wiser.
In the short time it took to explore the secret tunnels, Sarah’s concept of Edward changed from a man she admired and revered to a deceptive cheat.
Sarah grasped the candelabra and led Ravenhill across the hall to another set of doors. “Since you are so very adept at finding secret passageways, would you please check this room to see if more exist?”
CHAPTER 17
Damen allowed himself to be escorted into another lavish apartment. Sarah led him through an elegant boudoir into a large, rose-colored room where she lit several wall sconces.
Mirrors backed the sconces, creating a tunnel of reflection, multiplying each flame’s glow to infinity. Rose tapestries covered the walls. Their elliptical motif matched the ceiling fresco and the deep carpet on the floor.
Near a window stood a needlepoint easel and a plush couch. A unique silver lion clock sat on the marble fireplace mantle along with three others. Its bronze gears flashed behind its glass enclosure.
Peaches and lavender eddied about the high-ceilinged room.
Though the place looked nothing like Damen had imagined, he was certain this was Sarah’s bedchamber.
Such rich decor and dazzling lighting created an erotic ambience. For a woman who clothed herself in solemn conservatism, he wondered that she hid a sensual side.
“Hidden entrances might easily be secreted behind any of the numerous embellishments.” Sarah’s voice had a breathy tightness.
“I agree.” He gazed about her. She looked so forlorn. He didn’t like being the one to unveil Strathford’s deceptions. The karmic significance was not lost on him. Takes one to know one, and all that. He made a show of studying the seam of a tapestry.
“Do you see something?”
He slowly turned in her direction.
She stood wringing her hands and biting her lower lip.
Behind her was the huge four-poster bed he’d been trying to ignore. Rose velvet curtains and gold silk ropes draped its corners. Heaps of cream and rose pillows covered a very soft-looking bed – large enough to accommodate both of them comfortably.
The decor, her fragrance, everything practically screamed seduction. But after dreaming about caressing her, touching and holding her, now that he was in her bedchamber – a wonderland of temptation – his fantasies dissolved like fairy dust.
Distress lined her lovely countenance. No doubt the discovery of the hidden passageways disturbed her. Questions would loom about her husband, their life together, and her beliefs about their marriage.
Sarah advanced to his side. “The tapestry. Do you see something in it?” She’d laced her fingers so tightly, her knuckles had turned white.
His heart went out to her. He didn’t like to see unhappiness in anyone, least of all Sarah.
“Come here.” He pulled her against him and held her close. “I’m sorry I made you sad.”
“It’s not your fault.” His waistcoat muffled her shaky voice. “I trusted him and he lied.”
A spike of conscience pinched his brows. He held her away from him to try to measure her emotions and saw her eyes brimming. Oh, Lord, she was going to cry. What was he supposed to do about tears?
He gathered her up into his arms and carried her to the plush couch where he settled her on his lap. “Don’t cry. Please don’t cry.” He rocked her tight against him, kissing her temple while whispering in her ear, “It’ll be all right. You’ll see.”
She sniffled. “I’m sorry. I’m ruining your beautiful waistcoat.”
He grabbed his handkerchief from his breast pocket – “Here, my lady” – and made a mental note to thank Gormley for his foresight.
He rocked her
back and forth like a hurt child, kissing the top of her head as he spoke. “Men are a sorry lot, my lady. I must apologize for our species. There might be a few rare specimens endowed with truth and honesty. But for the most part, the majority lie somewhere between petty fibbers and total mendacity. It’s best not to trust any of us too far.”
She made a little noise that sounded like a watery giggle.
He rocked her some more and kissed her temple. “I know it’s a shock now, but you are made of strong stuff, my lady. You are intelligent. You are capable and you will survive this, maybe even laugh about it in a decade or two.”
He kept rocking and laid his head on top of hers, enjoying their warmth and closeness, her fragrance, and the quiet intimacy of comforting someone he suspected he was falling to love with.
When the sniffles stopped, she gently placed a hand on his cheek and gazed about his face. “I’m sorry we didn’t find the plans.”
Damen mentally said a silent thanks they hadn’t found evidence tying Cory to Strathford’s death, either.
“I never would have anticipated what we did find…” Her voice trailed off. She exhaled a sigh. “I don’t know what I would have done without you. Thank you again, Mr Ravenhill.”
Damen felt like a first-class scoundrel. Not only had he uncovered her husband’s deception, he still harbored a big fat one himself. Sarah didn’t need any more disappointment. He may be impersonating his brother, but his deep-rooted sense of responsibility still held the upper hand. Mrs Ivanova be damned. He would not knowingly hurt Sarah.
Before the thought even fully coalesced, Sarah’s mouth came down over his.
He gasped at the lush pleasure and at the tingling, salty taste of her. His pulse instantly rivaled the clocks’ chaotic rhythms.
This was so ill-advised. Knowing he would soon have to say goodbye battled with his ingrained sense of responsibility and code of honor, shaky though it may be. She’d enough to worry about already. She didn’t need him to take her favors and desert her. And there was no question, he would soon have to leave.
The Trouble With Seduction Page 15
