Seduction in Mind

by Susan Johnson

  “Your father, sir.”

  “He’s said something to disturb you?”

  “He’s here, sir.”

  “Bloody hell,” Sam muttered. “Is this my day of penance?”

  “He arrived before Farris left, so I put him in the back drawing room with a bottle of his favorite whiskey.”

  “Perhaps we could leave him there until he passes out.”

  “He seemed to be on a mission, sir. I doubt he’ll stay quiet long.”

  “In that case, fill my glass up once more and then go fetch him,” Sam said glumly. “And if anyone else comes calling, tell them I left the country.”

  “Very good, sir.”

  “You astonish me, Owens.” He gazed at his butler’s retreating back. “Do you ever lose your temper?”

  “Not while I’m working, sir.”

  “Not even with my parents?”

  Owens hesitated for the briefest moment before setting the decanter down and turning back to Sam with his drink. “They do try one’s patience, sir.”

  “A true understatement. Thank you, Owens.” Sam took the freshly filled glass from him. “Want to take any bets on my father’s mission?”

  “They’re all the same, sir. I couldn’t take your money. I believe the Thornton girl is on the agenda this time.”

  “So I thought. Mama has her eye on their Yorkshire acres.”

  “Begging your pardon, sir, but the countess is most persistent.”

  Sam smiled tightly. “No need to wonder why I drink.”

  The servants credited Sam’s drinking to his intemperate amusements as well, but ever courteous to the well-loved master of Ranelagh House, Owens said only, “You do bear a certain burden, sir.”

  “Escort my latest burden in and then do me a favor and announce another visitor in, say, five minutes. I can listen to my father’s admonishments for only a limited period of time.”

  When the Earl of Milburn appeared in the doorway, his habitual scowl in place, it took enormous effort for Sam to greet his father with courtesy.

  “Do come in, Father. Forgive me for keeping you waiting. I had an earlier appointment.”

  “I hope not with that arriviste Miss Ionides. I heard you caused quite a stir leaving Wales’s box be-foretime day before yesterday.”

  He couldn’t accuse only Alex’s parents of undue surveillance, Sam thought with irritation. “Actually, no, Father, it wasn’t Miss Ionides. Farris stopped by.”

  “Are you involved in some damned scandal again? Another whiskey, Owens,” the earl barked.

  “Nothing to concern yourself with, Father. I’ll have a brandy, Owens.” Make it large, he wished to say but stopped himself. He could deal with anything for five minutes. “And then you may leave, Owens.”

  His father sat down in the nearest chair. Sam glanced at the clock.

  “Farris doesn’t come calling for nothing,” his father noted darkly.

  For a flashing moment, Sam debated warning his father about the possible publication of Farida’s accusations but decided it would be time enough if Farris’s negotiations failed. “He had business concerning my railroad stock,” Sam fabricated.

  “You’re wasting your money, my boy. Land—now, there’s where you should be investing. It’s the strength and backbone of this country.”

  “I’ll tell Farris,” he replied politely, watching his father take his whiskey from the silver salver Owens held out to him. With land prices falling steadily for decades, he wasn’t likely to invest in property.

  “Speaking of land …” The earl cleared his throat and Sam braced himself. “That Thornton gel has some damned good acreage in her dowry.”

  “I told Mother the other day, I wasn’t interested, Father. Young girls fresh out of the schoolroom don’t intrigue me.” Taking his brandy from Owens, he quickly drained it.

  “Don’t know what intrigue has to do with those ten thousand acres in Yorkshire. It’s a profitable connection, son. That’s what matters.”

  “Not to me.” Had the hands on the clock stopped moving? “If you’re interested in Yorkshire land, Dudley has some for sale.”

  “If you marry the Thornton chit, it don’t cost a thing.”

  “I’m not sure I’ll marry again, Father. Marcus has two sons. I don’t feel any pressure to provide a Lennox heir.”

  His father’s brows drew together in a scowl. “You know how your mother feels about that.”

  “With great clarity. However, my feelings are in opposition to hers.” He glanced at the door, hoping to hear Owens’s knock.

  “Penelope was a bit of a trial, I admit, but—”

  Sam’s gaze returned to his father. “She was considerably more than that. She damned near put the Lennoxes on the front page of The Times more than once. Thanks to Farris, scandal was averted, but I’m not in the mood to marry now—perhaps never. So kindly tell Mother to desist from parading hopeful ingenues before me.”

  “You were too lenient with your wife.”

  “I didn’t care to lock her in her room, and short of that, she was uncontrollable.”

  “Damned rocky patch you went through there, but it’s over, and once you have time to lick your wounds, I don’t doubt you’ll find some young filly to marry.”

  “I don’t have any wounds, Father. I never wanted to marry Penelope anyway. I don’t like flighty young women.”

  “Then someone like Miss Ionides suits you better, doesn’t she? A woman twice married.” He winked. “She knows what she wants, eh, my boy?”

  “I wouldn’t know.”

  “Come, come, don’t humbug me. We both know what young widows want. Hell, I remember when she married St. Albans. He was in a right fine frame of mind for the entire two years he was married … before he dropped dead. Probably too much of a good thing, if you know what I mean.” The earl’s smile was lecherous. “You can enjoy a dark-skinned beauty like that. Who wouldn’t? But no need to get serious. Her family”—one brow arched upward—“merchantmen out of the Levant, you know.”

  By this time Sam was praying for the knock on the door, and when it came a second later, he practically leaped to his feet. As Owens entered the room, he moved toward him as though he were his savior.

  “The Earl of Airlie, sir.”

  “Thank you, Owens.” Turning back to his father, Sam said mendaciously, “I’m sorry, Father. Edward’s here and we have an appointment at Tattersalls. If you’ll excuse me.”

  “I thought we were going to Hattie’s,” Eddie remarked, appearing in the doorway.

  Surprise registered on both men’s faces.

  Sam hadn’t expected Edward in the flesh, while the Earl of Milburn always intimidated Eddie.

  “Hello, sir.” Eddie greeted the earl politely before half turning to Sam, his brows faintly lifted. “Meant to say Tattersalls,” he said blandly.

  “I’m sorry to take my leave so suddenly, Father, but there’s a new hunter coming on the block this afternoon. And my stable master thinks it’s worth looking at.”

  “I’ll tell your mother we had a good talk.” His father offered Sam a conspiratorial smile. “Calm her nerves for a time. You boys go off and enjoy yourselves.”

  “What the hell was that all about?” Eddie asked as the two men stood on the drive outside Ranelagh House, waiting for Sam’s carriage to be brought up.

  “My father came as emissary for Mother, who has decided Clarissa Thornton will suit as my next wife. I told him, as I did Mother, that I’m not interested. He thinks I need time to get over my wounds from Penelope. He also thinks Miss Ionides will serve in the interim as a suitable bed partner just so long as I don’t entertain any notions about marrying her. Apparently, her skin is too dark,” Sam finished sardonically.

  “Perfect would more aptly describe it.”

  “Not when her family is made up of Levant merchantmen,” Sam noted mockingly.

  “Your père could, however, overlook Penelope’s nymphomania because she was from good Anglo-Saxon stock.”r />
  Sam tipped his head faintly. “He called her a bit of a trial.”

  “He was lucky her escapades didn’t end in a trial. That would have changed his notions about good Anglo-Saxon stock.”

  Sam exhaled. “Both my parents have descended on me in less than a week. Hopefully, I shall be free of them for at least another month now. And my thanks for appearing so opportunely, although I was quite willing to perjure myself to avoid listening to my father’s views on the state of the country, the government and the rising tide of the bourgeoisie.”

  “Luckily, my père prefers the country. Not so many mushrooms,7 he says.”

  “When so many country estates are being purchased by the new industrialists. Is he blind?”

  “Conveniently blind. My mother keeps their social circle small in order to forestall the inevitable shock when he discovers he’s surrounded by new neighbors.”

  “Gentility is nothing more than ancient riches made by some tradesmen long ago. I was tempted to remind Father of our nabob ancestors.”

  “But you didn’t wish to prolong the conversation.”

  “Exactly. I say as little as possible and leave as soon as possible when dealing with my parents.”

  “Thank God mine stay in the country. Now, are we really going to Tattersalls?”

  “No, we’re going to Aspreys. I need a present suitable for an infant.”

  Chapter 19

  The clerk at Aspreys recognized Sam. The viscount was the envy of every young male who aspired to status as a bon vivant. So his shock was genuine when Sam said, “I am in need of a gift for a newborn.”

  Though Eddie had had time to absorb his initial surprise at Sam’s aberrant behavior, he remained mildly disconcerted. In his experience, Sam and babies didn’t even have a nodding acquaintance no matter gossip had tried to connect Sam with any number of births in the years he’d been entertaining himself in the boudoirs of society ladies. Perhaps it was a joke.

  But after viewing countless rattles and cups, dainty jeweled picture frames and engraved spoons and porringers, Eddie realized that Sam was perfectly serious. Eddie burned with curiosity.

  After a time, Sam decided on an antique silver rattle. It was prettily wrapped, the clerk said, “Congratulations, sir,” with a degree of innuendo Sam ignored, and soon the men were standing outside Aspreys, their mission accomplished. “Now some flowers, I think,” Sam said, looking across the street at a fashionable florist shop.

  “For the baby?” Eddie inquired, his expertise in these matters nonexistent.

  “No, for Alex.” Sam pursed his mouth. “I hadn’t thought about the baby—I suppose I should bring some for the child … and the mother as well.”

  “Do you even know the mother?”

  “Of course I know her. She’s Alex’s sister-in-law,” Sam said as though Eddie were dense. “I wonder where they live?” Apparently, he didn’t perceive the two statements as incompatible.

  In short order three bouquets were purchased, a small nosegay of white roses and two boxes of pink roses. Now the question remained—where to deliver them?

  “Leighton will know,” Sam decided.

  When Sam asked Sir Leighton for Tina’s address, the artist masked his surprise. Ranelagh had met Alex two days earlier and now he was bringing gifts to her relative? There were astonishing implications in this seemingly polite ritual.

  But then, Alex was astonishing.

  Sam, on the other hand, appeared unconscious of the wonder his actions provoked. After a few moments, he thanked Leighton for the address, declined his offer of a drink, and bid him good-bye with a marked casualness.

  On reentering his carriage, Sam addressed Eddie. “I’ll drop you off at the Marlborough Club if you like, or would you prefer Hattie’s?”

  “Don’t I get to see the new baby?” Eddie looked pained.

  “No. When did you begin to like babies anyway?”

  “The same time you did. And you’re not being very friendly,” Eddie grumbled. “Didn’t I just save you from your father?”

  “I believe I’ve saved you a number of times as well, from circumstances a trifle more daunting than my father’s visit. Like when I helped you out of the second-story window at Lady Waddell’s, or that rather dicey incident when you needed me to back you up against Mordaunt’s wrath when he found you with—”

  “Point taken,” Eddie conceded. “But if you won’t let me watch this interesting spectacle unfold, tell me, at least, why the hell are you doing this?”

  “Because I want to see her.”

  “Like you wanted to see the harem in Constantinople?”

  Sam’s expression was unreadable for a moment, and then he smiled. “Something like that.”

  The Ionideses lived south of the City, where the family had built a number of homes at Briana Hills. According to Leighton, the new mother resided in a Florentine-style villa just a stone’s throw from the family mansion.

  After reaching the appropriate house in a landscape dotted with palatial homes, Sam descended from his carriage and stood for a moment on the gravel drive, surveying the beauty of the landscaped grounds. Flowers ran riot in a setting no doubt made to look natural by an army of gardeners, the colorful blossoms massed in a brilliant palette against the green of the hills. No wonder Alex’s garden had been so lush, Sam thought.

  A footman descended the long bank of steps and bowed before him. “Welcome to Briana Hills, sir.”

  “I’ve come to see Miss Alexandra Ionides. Is she here?”

  “Yes, sir. Who shall I say is calling?”

  “Viscount Ranelagh. I have some flowers in my carriage that should be brought inside.”

  “Very good, sir.” The footman lifted his hand and a page boy came running out from behind a clipped boxwood hedge. After giving the boy instructions, he said, “This way, Lord Ranelagh. I’ll see if Miss Alex is available.”

  A sense of excitement and bustle was immediately apparent as Sam stepped into a resplendent entrance hall of pink marble, jewel-encrusted icons, and plush Oriental carpets, adding an exotic splendor to the setting. Servants were running up and down the stairs, the sound of doors slamming and snatches of conversation echoed down the staircase from the floor above, and then suddenly the thin, high wail of a baby pierced the air.

  Sam looked at the footman. “The child has arrived.”

  “Only minutes ago, sir. The household is in chaos. If you’ll wait in the drawing room”—the footman indicated an open doorway to the left—“I’ll find Miss Alex.”

  “Don’t impose on her if she’s busy. I’m not in a hurry.”

  “Very good, sir. I’ll have tea brought in to you.”

  “That won’t be necessary.”

  “Brandy, perhaps?”

  Sam smiled. “Excellent.” He waved the man away. “I can find my way in.” He could see the staff was in disarray. No butler was in evidence. As he walked into the sunny drawing room, he felt oddly pleased that the child had arrived in apparently good health. A kind of rare happiness overcame him, as though he were somehow involved in the joyful events of the day. A more cynical person might credit his happiness to Miss Ionides’s imminent arrival. Not of an introspective nature, however, the viscount felt only unalloyed pleasure.

  His brandy arrived in the care of another page boy, who gazed at him with wide-eyed speculation. “Miss Alex is still busy, sir. It might be some time till she can see you.”

  “Tell her it’s not a problem. My schedule is free.”

  “Yes, sir.” But the boy continued to stare as though Sam were an alien creature.

  “Is there more?” Sam asked, entertained by the young boy’s inspection.

  “They’re arguing about you,” the youngster replied artlessly.

  “They?”

  “Miss Alex’s ma and her.”

  “Ah …” Apparently, not only his father was disturbed by their acquaintance. A hint of amusement shone in Sam’s eyes. “Who do you suppose will win?”


  “Miss Alex.”

  “No equivocation?”

  The boy looked at him blankly.

  “You’re sure?” Sam translated his query into understandable English.

  The boy’s face lit up. “Oh, there ain’t no question o’ that. Miss Alex always gets what she wants.”

  Sam suppressed his urge to smile. He’d experienced that phenomenon firsthand. “In that case, please tell Miss Alex I await her convenience. And offer my congratulations on the new baby.”

  “Yes, sir. Everyone be right happy about the baby, what with it comin’ early and all.”

  “I’m sure they are. Is it a boy or a girl?”

  “A girl, and everyone’s sayin’ it’s about time, seein’ how they got four boys already.”

  “This is indeed a happy day, then.” The viscount’s well-being continued apace.

  “It is fer sure. I’ll go tell Miss Alex you be waitin’ as long as it takes.”

  “Thank you.” He handed the boy a sovereign.

  “They said you was a rich cove.”

  Sam’s brows rose.

  “The footmens.”

  His brows lowered, mildly relieved. He preferred not being discussed in those terms by the delectable Miss Ionides.

  “It’s gonna take a while,” the boy warned.

  Sam smiled. “I don’t care.”

  And he found he didn’t, despite the fact he sat alone in the drawing room for a very long time. He had plenty of brandy, Alex was close, and sometime today he’d see her.

  How simple life had become when pleasure was measured by the availability of an auburn-haired lady, when just knowing she was near brought a smile to his lips.

  “You shouldn’t have come here.”

  Alex’s sharp voice shattered his blissful reverie. He looked up to see her closing the drawing room doors behind her, the rigidity of her spine matching the tartness of her tone.

  “I know I shouldn’t have,” he said, rising from his chair. “I’m sorry.”

  She turned to him, her cheeks flushed, her gown rumpled, her hair tumbled down her shoulders.