He needed a drink badly.
Alex was equally distrait, but in a less predaceous way. She didn’t distribute blame or wish to spirit him away for herself alone. Instead, she wished it were possible to have him without compromising her entire life. It wasn’t, of course. Men like Sam were used to making demands, used to having their wishes fulfilled, familiar only with compliance. She couldn’t so easily acquiesce, although she realistically understood he hadn’t asked her for anything more than the pleasure of her company.
Perhaps she was the one who wanted more, and for a contemplative moment she considered the astonishing thought.
Did she want him for more than sex?
Did it matter if she did, she sensibly posed a second later, considering his manner of living?
The answer to that question was negative in the extreme, and setting aside any further flights of fancy, she decided what she needed was a good book, her own company, and an evening of quiet to bring her life back into balance. She glanced at the clock. Four-thirty. It was going to be a long night.
It turned out to be an equally long night for Sam. He sat alone in his study, making Owens extremely nervous because he stopped drinking before nine, refused food or visitors, even turning Eddie away, and when Owens peeked in from time to time, his master was busy writing at his desk until well past midnight.
It was enough to cause alarm.
“I told you it wouldn’t work,” Mahmud said for the tenth time that night, still frightened by his narrow escape. “I wish you’d stop scheming and let us go home to Egypt.”
“We will just as soon as I exact a last measure of revenge, dear brother,” Farida insisted, lying beside him with her arms crossed under her head. “We still have two days before we have to leave, and I want to make Ranelagh miserable. And don’t say taking his money will bother him, because he’ll hardly notice so small a sum. In fact, he won’t notice it at all!”
“If you think my sleeping with Miss Ionides would have made him angry, I think you’re mistaken. Anyway,” he muttered, “they were fighting when I left.”
“Of course it would have made him angry, you stupid fool. He would have been humiliated to find you in her bed.”
“I wonder if you’re deluding yourself. I doubt the man can be humiliated by a woman. He’s indifferent to them, if you ask me.”
“I would have found it a charming fillip, if nothing else—a little frosting on the cake of vengeance, but since the ruse is exposed—”
“I don’t know why you thought it wouldn’t be if he’s been sleeping with her all week….”
“Darling”—she turned to him with a feline smile—“you simply don’t understand where best to prick a man’s pride. Nevertheless,” she added, a new briskness to her voice, “since we can’t mortify him with his newest bit of fluff, I was thinking, maybe we could take that gold Ptolemy necklace he has in his collection. I always wanted it anyway.”
“Lord, Fari! Your greed is going to land you in jail.”
“I think you’ve lost your nerve, darling,” she replied, one dark brow arched in mockery.
“You didn’t have him look at you the way I did. He’s very, very large.”
“I’ll just do it myself,” she said. “As usual.”
“If you think to shame me,” Mahmud said with a grin, “you’re years too late. I wish you luck, sweet sister. And if you end up in prison, don’t expect me to visit you.”
“I have no intention of going to prison. Ranelagh’s Egyptian collection isn’t even locked up. He keeps it in his study, for heaven’s sake. And the terrace doors are very convenient.”
“You’re mad even to consider going to his house.”
“He owes me,” Farida stated. “I intend to collect.”
Chapter 30
The next morning Sam emerged from his study at six, called for breakfast, handed three notes to Owens to have delivered, and went upstairs to bathe and change.
The names on the envelopes caused a deal of gossip below stairs, and various possibilities were bruted about concerning the viscount’s intent. Farris arrived first, only minutes after seven, and was ushered into the breakfast room, where Sam was well into his morning repast. The servants were dismissed, and try as they could, the conversation inside was too muted to be heard through the door. But Farris was beaming when he left an hour later and, for that matter, so was the master.
Owens was instructed to see that the cook prepared an opulent tea for ten o’clock. “And I want flowers in the reception rooms,” Sam added. “Something summery.”
“Summery?” Owens wondered with raised brows as he related the orders to those below stairs a short time later. “Have you ever heard the master so much as mention flowers before?”
“He don’t seem even to notice them,” the housekeeper said. “Except that once when he accidentally knocked over the vase in the hall with his walking stick.”
“Did he say who were coming to tea?” the cook asked.
“No, but Farris has already come and gone, and since the other two notes were to Mr. Ionides and the Archbishop of London, it’s either one or the other or both.”
“The archbishop. I hope he ain’t dying,” one of the footmen repeated, his concern having been expressed in their earlier conversation about Sam’s letters.
“He’s healthy as an ox,” Owens replied, although the butler had reservations about the viscount’s mental health after his unusual behavior last night. “But we haven’t much time to put the reception rooms in readiness.” He surveyed the servants. “His lordship said opulent, and opulent he shall have.”
Pandias Ionides, accompanied by his wife, arrived at Ranelagh House precisely at ten. Although Sam’s note had been addressed only to him, Euterpe had said, “I’m coming with you whether you like it or not, whether Lord Ranelagh likes it or not, and don’t look at me like that, Pandias. Whatever he has to say, I want to hear.”
Sam entered the drawing room, where his guests had been ushered only minutes after their arrival. He apologized for having kept them waiting, wished them good morning with a winning smile, and with considerable graciousness and charm offered the hospitality of his house.
Euterpe had had every intention of expressing her displeasure with the viscount but found herself instead captivated by his extraordinary warmth, his smile, the very personal way he immediately engaged everyone in conversation. Soon she found herself telling him about the Camden Street School as if they were friends of long acquaintance. When Owens arrived with the tea tray and Sam asked whether she would pour, she preened and said, “I’d be delighted.”
It required great restraint for her husband to observe his wife’s abrupt volte-face without breaking into a grin, but he managed. And when Sam declared after tea had been poured, “I’ve asked you here for a reason,” Pandias presented an equally bland countenance.
“I rather thought you had,” he replied.
“I’m afraid it’s a presumptuous request, but one I’ve mulled over all night and feel compelled to make. You know, Alex and I have been spending time together.”
As Greek consul, Pandias had spent a lifetime in diplomacy, and his aplomb was well honed, but he was hard pressed to resist choking at the viscount’s bluntness. “We were aware of it,” he finally said in a near-normal tone.
“And while we haven’t known each other for long—scarce a week—I find myself deeply attached to her.”
Euterpe set down her teacup with a clang.
“The fact is,” Sam went on quickly, as though he might change his mind if he didn’t forge ahead, “I’d like to ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage.”
Euterpe gasped.
Sam smiled at her. “I realize it’s unexpected.”
“Have you spoken to Alex about this?” Pandias asked, concealing his surprise.
“No. I wished to respect the formalities. Alex has a sense of—er—decorum that I didn’t want to offend.”
“While I would willingly gi
ve you my permission, my Lord Ranelagh, there’s no guarantee my daughter will agree with me. As you may know, she has a mind of her own.”
“I’ll speak to her,” Mrs. Ionides interposed sharply. “Indeed, it’s about time she listened to someone.” She surveyed Sam with a critical eye. “At least you’re not old.”
Sam smiled. “I assume that’s an asset?”
Euterpe sniffed. “Indeed it is.”
“Then, I have your permission to present my suit to your daughter?”
“Of course.” Pandias smiled. “Although this is sudden.”
“I’m thirty-three. I don’t consider it sudden at all.”
The unspoken implication hung in the air, all the decades of women instantly springing to mind.
“If I may inquire,” Euterpe said, impelled by more significant considerations. “What do your parents think of your proposal?”
“I thought I’d speak with you first. And with all due respect, I’m well past the age when my parents have any say in my life.”
Pandias frowned. “I gather they won’t approve.”
“I’m sorry. They may not. I hope that won’t alter your opinion of me. I’m quite independent of my family. We don’t get along as a rule.”
“There you are, my darling boy!”
The Countess of Milburn sailed into the drawing room with Clarissa Thornton and Hedy Alworth in tow. “We were out to do a bit of shopping and decided to stop by for a moment and visit with—” Her eyes widened, she came to an abrupt stop, and stood gape-mouthed.
“Mother, may I introduce Mr. and Mrs. Ionides. Mr. and Mrs. Ionides, my mother, the Countess of Milburn, Lady Clarissa Thornton, and Miss Alworth,” Sam offered calmly. “We were just having tea, Mother. Would you care to join us?”
She most certainly did not, but all her marriage plans for her son were clearly in jeopardy, so she quickly reconsidered. “Yes, certainly. You sit beside Sam, Clarissa,” she ordered. “Clarissa tells me she has learned one of your favorite songs, dear,” the countess added, smiling at her son. “She most particularly wishes to play it for you, so when your guests have left,” she went on pointedly, “we can enjoy her superior talent.”
“I didn’t know you played the piano,” Hedy said uncharitably, moving quickly toward the seat beside Sam, not about to allow Clarissa a prominent position or proximity to the man she coveted.
“I’m afraid the piano is in disrepair in any event,” Sam lied, moving to the far side of the sofa as Hedy sat down. “A shame … dry rot, I believe.”
“It’s much too early for piano music anyway—” Hedy inched closer to him and smiled. “Don’t you agree, my lord?”
Sam quickly rose. “Owens forgot the scones, when I particularly asked for them. Mrs. Ionides, would you do the honors?” He pushed the tea tray a fraction closer to her. “Owens!” And he moved toward his majordomo as Hedy’s mouth settled into a pout.
Never say Euterpe was intimidated by anyone, regardless of their rank, and at that moment the feelings of a mother lioness were swelling in her breast. As if those insipid young ladies with blond curls and over-ruffled bonnets and gowns the countess was parading before her son were going to take the place of her daughter! She didn’t care how blue the chits’ blood; the young ladies plainly didn’t hold a candle to her Alexandra. It was a completely partisan observation but deeply felt, and when Euterpe said in the warmest of accents, “I’d be honored, Lord Ranelagh,” he understood even from the small distance that separated them that his suit for Alex’s hand had met with favor.
The countess’s fury showed in the high color on her cheeks. It was all she could do to keep from storming out of the room. But Clarissa Thornton had a dowry that would add considerably to the Lennox wealth, and even Hedy Alworth, although of lesser estate, would be preferable to a twice-married Greek vixen. The countess had every intention of seeing her son married to a suitable lady, and for that purpose she would stomach even foreign upstarts like the Ionideses.
“Apparently, I misunderstood about the scones,” Sam prevaricated, returning to the group with a plate of small pastries. “Cakes anyone?” he offered, playing host as though he were familiar with the role, as though he handed cake plates around the table every day of his life.
“Oh, goody!” Clarissa squealed, reaching for a pastry.
Sam’s wince wasn’t visible, although the tick over his cheekbone came into play.
“I just love cakes anytime at all,” Clarissa cooed, putting a second on her plate. “And chocolate icing! My favorite!”
Sam glanced at the clock on the mantel, wondering how soon he could send his mother and her friends away.
Taking note of Sam’s reaction, Hedy said, “No, thank you,” when she was offered the sweets. “I prefer more wholesome treats.”
“Now you must promise to come up to Milburn Grange,” the countess interposed, taking advantage of the public occasion to force her son’s acquiescence. “Our midsummer ball will have any number of your old friends in attendance. Sam loves the country,” she added, surveying the Ionideses with a smug smile. “You people prefer the City, I’m sure.”
“We live in the country,” Pandias replied quietly, restraining his wife with a hand on hers.
“The Ionideses have a lovely estate, Mother.” Sam set the plate down and pulled up a chair beside Pandias. “I was there the other day to bring a gift to their new granddaughter.”
Hedy gasped, the countess turned beet red, and Clarissa even stopped eating, recognizing the seriousness of such a visit.
A sudden hush filled the room.
“What the hell—is this a wake?” The Earl of Milburn stood on the threshold, his gaze sweeping the odd assortment of silent people in his son’s drawing room, the most curious sight that of his son with a teacup in his hand.
“Good morning, Father. It’s not a wake. We’re having tea. Would you like to join us?”
“For tea? Are you daft?”
“Then, I’ll wish you good morning.”
“Not so fast, my boy. I’m here on an errand.” He cast a disparaging eye on his wife. “Seems I’m not the only one.”
“If you’re staying, Father, may I introduce Mr. and Mrs. Ionides. I invited them over for tea.”
“You don’t say. Then, Eddie’s story’s true.” The earl moved into the room, his gaze half narrowed as he surveyed the Ionideses. “Pleased to meet you,” he said bluffly and jerked a small bow in their direction. “Seems my boy here has a tendre for your daughter. That’s what I came to find out, and there you have it.” The earl turned his critical gaze on Sam. “Don’t say you’re marrying the gel?”
“If she’ll have me.”
Hedy spilled her cup of tea down her dress front.
The earl’s brows flew up into his receding hairline.
“That’s impossible,” the countess bit off, tight-lipped and furious.
“Not at all.”
“Of course it is. Our family has always—”
“I’m not concerned with what the family has done, Mother. My mind is made up.”
“But what about me?” Clarissa wailed.
The earl rolled his eyes.
“I’m sure you’ll find some young man who will better suit you,” Sam asserted.
“But you’re so very rich!”
Sam glanced at his mother and his mouth twitched, but he managed to keep from laughing. “Perhaps Mother can find you someone equally wealthy.”
“I doubt that very much,” Clarissa replied pettishly. “Everyone knows you have the most money.”
“Damn you all to hell! Get your hands off me! I was just coming to say good-bye to the viscount!”
The woman’s high-pitched screams echoed down the hall and into the drawing room, the cries not only near but notoriously familiar to Sam. He’d braced himself before Owens appeared in the doorway with Farida’s wrists in a viselike grip.
Her shrieks came to a sudden stop when she saw Sam. “I just came to say good-bye,” s
he muttered sullenly. “This, this vicious person assaulted me.”
“She was stealing your Egyptian necklace, sir. The gardener saw her enter your study and came to tell me.”
“I wasn’t stealing anything. I was looking at it.”
“Thank you, Owens. Would you escort the lady out? And lock the study doors.”
“Very good, sir.”
“May you burn in hell, Ranelagh,” Farida spat out. “May your flesh fall from your bones, may all the fiends of—”
Sam nodded at Owens to take her away, wondering as his majordomo pulled her screaming from the room how he was going to explain this to Alex’s parents.
“Here’s the bitch now! He’ll leave you just like all the rest! Don’t think you have what it takes to hold him, you redheaded witch—”
Farida’s shrill voice echoed down the corridor and into the drawing room, precipitating a round of gasps. A second later Alex stopped in the doorway as so many before her had.
“Oh, my God,” she whispered, her soft exclamation ringing out like a clarion call in the stillness of the room.
“Alex, come in!” her mother cried.
“Don’t leave me! Don’t do this! You know what he’s like!” The unseen male voice interposed another level of shock until Harry suddenly appeared on the threshold and gave form to speculation.
Alex glanced at him, dumbfounded. Then her gaze swung back to her parents and she was almost paralyzed by the sight of so many unexpected people. She didn’t know whether to run or take her chances where she stood.
Seduction in Mind Page 23
