The Trouble With Seduction

by Victoria Hanlen

  Somehow the blue and white flowers Ravenhill brought on his first visit appeared in her mind. For a moment, she became lost in the magic of the first time she’d gazed into his big beautiful eye. It had been a weightless, dizzying experience. Her skin had prickled with the electricity passing between them.

  Something inside of her snapped like the unspooling of the Buzzy Bee’s spring. She jumped to her feet and paced to the desk to fiddle with the flowers and give herself time to think. “You do me a great compliment with your proposal. But I…” She turned to him.

  Still on one knee, his jaw sagged, and with it his smile.

  “I’ve been married twice already, my lord. I’m well aware of the commitments and responsibilities and am not yet ready to enter into marriage again… with anyone.”

  “But I care for you so, so…” – his pudgy hands fished through the air – “…deeply. I could make your life so much easier. I would hold you against my heart and keep you safe.”

  “I am honored.” She tried to sound sincere, while the last words he’d said whirled around in her head. He could keep her safe. The bad men seeking Edward’s plans were most likely the ones who’d recently hurt Ravenhill. Had they already hurt the woman in black and their baby? Would they assault Sarah next?

  “At this point in my life, I’m afraid I would not make any man an ideal wife.”

  Lumsley pushed himself to his feet. “Perhaps this is an inopportune moment. I know you have much on your mind. My fondest wish is only that you are safe and happy in a loving and secure home. If there’s any help I may offer, anything at all, I am at your service.”

  He bowed to her and quietly left the parlor, shutting the door behind him. Sarah slumped into her desk chair. Her hand shook as she tore out the newspaper article regarding Ravenhill’s attack and slid it into her dress bodice, next to her heart.

  ***

  “The sunshine flatters you and your lovely new green gown.” Eliza smiled as she poured herself another glass of lemonade and leaned back in her patio chair.

  “Thank you, Auntie. I gave away my mourning gowns and had the modiste make up several more colorful ones.” After discovering Edward’s secret tunnels, the very sight of her widow’s weeds made her feel ridiculous.

  Sarah took a sip of lemonade and gazed at the stacks of lumber, the bricks and rubble, the demolished invention garden, and the ruined flowerbeds. “These shambles used to fill me with dismay. Not any more. I’ve decided they are vestiges of my old, unsatisfactory life. Now I envision something new. I am ready to become something new as well.”

  “That’s the spirit.”

  “Niles found this article. Did you see it?” Sarah slid the newspaper across the table.

  Her aunt picked it up. “You wish me to read the society column?”

  Sarah nodded.

  Eliza read it and pointed to the paper. “The names are disguised with initials. No one knows they are you and Mr Ravenhill.”

  “How many S.S.’s are there of my station in London, or C.R.’s who’ve recently returned after years abroad?”

  “Granted, the writer is trying to be cagy.”

  “The article insinuates I’m a black widow and killed my two husbands. Then it practically announces Mr Ravenhill and I were lovers. It suggests he was brutally attacked because of me and may as well be dead. And finally, it warns – any man who dares share my bed will die.”

  “I’m sorry, dear. Some people can be so cruel.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” Gossip was the least of her problems. Ravenhill’s deception devastated her far worse than any newspaper speculation could. Her inner alarms should have blared when he didn’t volunteer his given name during their lovemaking.

  When would she learn? Handsome men always precipitated calamity in her life. First there’d been the handsome boy Niles brought home over the holiday who’d goaded her into breaking her leg. Then there’d been the handsome miller’s son who’d enticed her to a picnic that ended in her being married off to a stranger more than twice her age. Then there was Ravenhill, whose appearance coincided with murder allegations, her home and mission’s destruction, and the shattering of her heart.

  “I’m through with men, Auntie. I realized that article was like my yard. Bits and pieces of my life scrabbled together into a bunch of nonsense. Wearing dark gowns only added coal to the fire. I will soon have even more colorful gowns to choose from.”

  “And you will look beautiful in all of them,” her aunt smiled. She took a sip of her lemonade. “Have you heard how Mr Ravenhill is since... his recent assault?”

  Sarah’s lips thinned. “Amelia informed me he is recuperating at a Falgate country estate.” She tried to keep an even tone as if it didn’t bother her. “He strung three women along simultaneously. Not only was he engaged to Eugenia Lambert during our alliance, he impregnated another woman and told her he wouldn’t marry her until they found Edward’s mysterious plans. Providence only knows how many more he took in.”

  Her aunt gazed at her a long moment. “I don’t like to play devil’s advocate, but babies and engagements take a little time to establish. He’d only been back in London a matter of weeks. Could this be more society column speculation? You don’t want to give Mr Ravenhill the slightest benefit of the doubt? After what the newspaper said about you?”

  Sarah wrinkled her nose and shook her head.

  “I’m not saying he’s innocent,” her aunt said carefully. “In these instances, we all wish a misunderstanding to be the culprit. And sometimes, rare though they may be – with some men – there are logical explanations. From what you know of him, do these women’s assertions ring true?”

  Sarah didn’t want to make any allowances for him, but something did bother her. “He claimed he didn’t know the woman who said she was pregnant with his baby. He asked me if I’d ever seen her face. After I thought about it, I realized he was right. She’d completely covered herself in black, even veiled her face.”

  “So do you believe him?”

  “I don’t know. The woman told me I must turn over Edward’s plans so she could give them to the villains, or all of us would be hurt. I’ve wondered if they are the same brutes who’ve assaulted Mr Ravenhill twice.”

  “It is curious. Do you trust this woman in black is telling the truth?”

  “She could be lying. I don’t know for sure. However, I received an invitation to Mr Ravenhill and Miss Lambert’s wedding. That is certainly damning evidence.”

  If Sarah was honest with herself, every time another woman had admired him, a little devil of jealousy had questioned his fidelity. Additionally, those mysterious little discrepancies in Mr Ravenhill’s behavior remained suspicious.

  “Auntie, even after all that’s happened, there are times when I wish…” She swallowed hard and couldn’t finish her statement.

  “You’re still in love with him,” her aunt said sympathetically.

  Her eyes stung. “Mr Ravenhill is the only man I’ve known who believed in me – my capabilities and intelligence. He made me feel strong and courageous, gave me excellent advice, and spoke to me as a friend and equal. He showed concern for me, my happiness, my… pleasure.” Her throat tightened. “I loved being with him. And he deceived me worse than anyone I’ve ever known.”

  Eliza grasped her hand and squeezed. “I’m so sorry.”

  “And the worst part is… the worst part is… how do I get rid of this unreasonable longing? I know it makes no sense. I’m a fool for allowing myself to continue. But what am I to do?”

  ***

  When Sarah entered the breakfast room the next morning, Niles sat alone at the table, reading the paper and drinking his usual black coffee.

  She went to the sideboard, filled her plate, and took a seat across from him. “Where is Lumsley? You and he seem to travel as a pair these days.”

  Niles set down his newspaper and gazed at her with a ‘must I truly respond to that ridiculous question’ kind of expression. Then shook out h
is paper and returned to his article.

  “I suppose he told you about his visit yesterday?”

  “Mmhmm,” he muttered from behind the paper.

  “I suspected that was why he’d been hanging around so much. But you see, Niles, after two arranged marriages, I’ve had time to think about what I want.”

  He finally set down the paper and fingered his coffee cup. “I know you thought you found something special in Ravenhill. It wasn’t your fault. Unfortunately, you fell under the spell of one of the wickedest blackguards around. Women and fiancées at every turn.” He shook his head in disgust. “Lumsley and I could see that about him from the beginning.”

  Sarah’s eyes burned.

  “Maybe I don’t show it enough, but I care a great deal for you, Sis. You are all the family I have left. I worry for you and want you to be safe, and comfortable. You deserve a good man, a steadfast man. One who understands how women ought to be cared for, sheltered, and protected – so they can see to their home and family. That is the proper place for a woman. It’s an honorable place.

  “Lumsley is such a man. He could give you a good life, a safe life, a life any woman would envy. And he’s admired you for as long as I can remember. He loves you Sarah, and if you don’t do something quick he’s liable to get away as well.”

  Sarah pinched her lips together. “Lumsley? He might make some woman a good husband, but I’m not her.”

  She made a fist on the table. Memories of her father marching her to the alter made her stomach churn. “I will no longer live the isolated, restricted life father and my deceased husbands thought suitable. If Mr Ravenhill taught me anything, it’s the assurance that I don’t need a man.”

  More than that, she believed, for a time, they’d been in love. It was the richest, most wonderful experience of her life. If she were to marry again, she would settle for nothing less.

  “Edward left my income in trust. I can do with it as I please, and I can think for myself.”

  “But Sis…” Niles held out his hands, pleading. “I fear Hooker is determined to hold you responsible for Strathford’s death. Your home is torn apart. Ravenhill nearly ruined your reputation. Lumsley could put all of that to rights. Do it for yourself, for your family. Your actions reflect on us, too, you know.”

  Your actions reflect on the family.

  Since she was sixteen and her father had caught her kissing the handsome miller’s son, that platitude had been thrown in her face. He’d immediately married her off to live a stultifying life in the country with her first husband, her every move watched by his loyal staff and wary heirs.

  She suddenly felt like she was laced into a head-to-toe corset and couldn’t breathe. It didn’t help that today Gracie had doubly secured Sarah’s plaits with additional pins. The weight of her hair pinched and pulled at her scalp.

  “And what will you do to redeem your reputation, Niles? The only reason you still have an estate is because it’s entailed and can’t be touched.”

  She sank her fingers into her tight braids, and tugged to relieve the tension. “It’s time you married and saw to your responsibilities. Miss Eugenia Lambert might be available again. She’s well dowered and her father is willing to pour more money after her to get her to the altar.”

  Niles grimaced. “Eugenia Lambert? Hells bells, Sis!” His mouth puckered up like he’d spit. “Of all the stiff-necked, shrill-voiced, icy-veined shrews, you’d hitch me to that?”

  “Love will grow after you’re married. That’s what father always told me.”

  “Come on, Sis, you’re in a heap of trouble and—”

  “If you think the family name needs burnishing, find yourself a wholesome bride and make your heirs. But if you’ll take a little advice, don’t marry unless you’ve found someone you can’t live without.”

  ***

  Sarah dashed from the breakfast parlor and fled to Edward’s study. She knew, in his own clumsy way, Niles was only trying to help. He’d been a gentle, caring brother. Unfortunately, he had difficulty making good decisions. She’d wondered if her father had married her to intelligent men partly so Niles could learn from them.

  She strode over to Edward’s desk and threw herself into the chair. Leaning back, she stared at the ceiling while she swiveled in a circle. Even after all that she’d discovered about Eddie she could still say there’d been true affection between them. How could anyone possibly think she killed him?

  Her solicitor hadn’t found Professor Bodkin. And with limited experience in criminal trials, she’d little confidence he could defend her against Hooker’s allegations.

  Mr Ravenhill had advised her to be ready to defend herself. Hooker’s experts were probably as corrupt as the inspector. She should hire her own private investigator. One who knew how to find people beyond London.

  Ravenhill had helped her discover there’d actually been two explosions – at Edward’s laboratory in the Falgate warehouse and at Strathford Hall. He’d urged her to get her own blasting experts and also questioned if both explosions might have been caused by a chemical. A qualified person would know where to look for signs.

  And lastly, Mr Ravenhill had recommended that she seek help from influential friends to apply political pressure. With Hooker and his magistrate probably in cahoots, her case needed to be heard by someone higher up.

  Thank goodness, she’d already put many of his suggestions into motion. Men like Hooker were bullies. The only way to stop them was to trounce them soundly.

  ***

  A few days later, Megpeas notified her that she had a visitor. On entering the parlor, her lead investigator jumped to his feet. “My lady,” he bowed. “We’ve finally located Professor Bodkin.”

  “Gracious, that’s wonderful. Where did you find him?”

  “In Scotland, my lady. He has been working on a line of new pumps.”

  “And does he still demand the plans for my husband’s small engine?”

  “No, my lady. He said he never met Lord Strathford, although he was a big admirer. When I explained to him the inspector’s allegations, Bodkin became rather confused. He said he did not know an Inspector Hooker and never made a claim against Lord Strathford.”

  “Did you get this in writing?”

  “Yes, my lady.” The investigator handed her a piece of paper. “As you can see, the professor wrote you a very nice letter, praising your husband’s reputation and saying there must be some mistake. He never worked with your husband, nor did he ever invent anything with him. Bodkin designs pumps.”

  Two days later, she received a letter from her solicitor. She tore it open and read its contents. Inspector Hooker’s expert had inspected the fuses and deemed them irrefutable evidence a crime had been committed. The magistrate had called a special hearing to decide if she should be held for Lord Strathford’s murder.

  Ravenhill had warned her that, when Hooker decided to go after someone, he would use fair means or foul to get his way.

  She pulled out a piece of stationery and slapped it down on her desk. Lord Sutterland, one of her father’s and Amelia’s husband’s friends, held great influence in the House of Lords. If ever there were a time for her to use her contacts, now was it.

  As she wrote the letter, it occurred to her how far she’d come. Mr Ravenhill may be many things, but he’d taught her how to fight. Prior to his acquaintance she wouldn’t have known where to begin.

  Two weeks later Sarah put on her new, conservative, navy-blue gown. Gracie tamed her hair and secured the tight braids to her head with at least a hundred pins.

  As she prayed in her little chapel for justice and for her innocence to prevail, she held under her arm Edward’s handsome portfolio filled with her notes and papers.

  Lord Sutterland had spoken with the Home Secretary and arranged a closed-door hearing. Today Hooker, his magistrate and experts would present their findings. Then Sarah’s team would present theirs.

  She gritted her teeth and tipped up her chin. Her solicitor, new b
arrister, and expert witnesses were prepared and ready for a fight. And she intended to prevail.

  CHAPTER 28

  “Do you know you’ve become a grouchy old bull?” Farnsworth, Damen’s friend and right-hand man since graduating university, took a gulp from his tankard. “I know you needed to knock a few heads together to get that rabble all pulling the same direction, but the suppliers, the building crews, and dockworkers are now back on track. Why still the grump?”

  Damen pushed his glasses up his nose and frowned at his reflection in the mirror behind the pub’s bar. More than two months had passed since he’d returned to Liverpool.

  It should have been a relief. He no longer had to deal with the unknown that was Cory’s crazy life. He could be himself again, immerse himself in work, and not worry if he got a crease or smudge on his utilitarian, no-nonsense, business gear.

  Something happened in the interim, however. He’d changed along with his tastes. Working non-stop no longer brought him satisfaction. His own clothes chafed and hung gracelessly about him, making him look and feel rough-hewn. The very image of a brute.

  Cory’s clothes fit better, were of finer fabrics, and softened his coarse edges. Not that he wanted to wear such flamboyant attire, but he rather missed their supple comfort.

  He’d not told Farnsworth the whole story. The debacle was too convoluted, too puzzling, and cut too deep. It humbled him in so many ways – some jarring, others surprisingly painful. Most of all, he realized how much he hated losing.

  Damen had hoped dealing with the problems and responsibilities of getting his warehouses up and running would take his mind off his failures. So far, the work only acted as a weak poultice against the roiling emotions festering inside. He’d expected to slide back into his old life in Liverpool. Now he realized his life, like his suits, no longer fit. He was not the same man.

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re nursing a bruised heart. But then, I know you never let your heart get involved. Am I right?” Farnsworth took a gulp from his tankard and grinned.