“Ethan…” His brother’s name came out a warning rumble.
Ignoring the menace, the doctor’s attention refocused on his food, face as innocent as a newborn babe. “Oh, so tell me, what is this business with Cael?”
The mention diverted his ire. “Do you recall that lecture he and I attended some two months back?”
“Certainly. A shame to have missed it.”
“There were some interesting characters in attendance. One in particular, Matthias Montgomery, Cael took an instant disliking to. That Professor Greyson did not like him much either.”
“Who is he?”
“A proprietor for one of those paranormal asylums…and the intruder that accosted Ms. Prescott last evening. Claimed to be investigating a resident here exhibiting mental instability of a bizarre nature. This comes on the heels of Cael’s announcement that Greyson, the paranormal scientist, is interested in Stephan’s abilities. I do not frequent society. Cael is neither adept nor insane, and you are…careful. Thus, I believe the someone Montgomery is after is Stephan.”
“You think Greyson’s interest in Stephan inadvertently tipped off this Montgomery character?”
“That is my theory, yes.”
“This could be a problem.”
“You’ve a gift for understatement, Ethan.”
The doctor pondered on these facts a moment, gazing unseeing at the floral centerpiece cattycorner. “He could be after you, too…at your uncle’s behest. Recall, you recently inherited a title and a fortune. And Nonna warned of this.”
“With Montgomery poking around, none of us are safe. It will not take long to scent blood if he learns of Greyson’s notice of Stephan. Or for that matter, the reason for the woman’s presence here. She is…” He hesitated, trying to personify Eden in one word. “…unusual. That is all the provocation witch-hunters need. Even worse, Cael thinks Stephan is hiding something.”
“All the more reason for you to talk to him, Dom.”
“Yes, yes.” He moved forward impatiently. “I’d already planned to invite him for a visit. But now, with this Montgomery person to contend with…I need to talk to Cael. See what he thinks. Not to mention he’s probably a little peeved with me.”
“When isn’t Cael a little peeved with you?” Ethan turned a curious gaze on his brother. “Still, you and he seem chummy these days.”
“Cael is not so bad.” Dom shrugged. “When he’s being my brother and not my doctor.”
The doctor chuckled at this, as he pushed back his chair. “Somehow I think I’m included in that comment. Alas, patients await. I must take my leave, but I’ll likely be back later in the evening.”
“Wait.” Dominic stood as well, not used to playing the gracious host, but giving the role a try-on for good measure. “Ahem. Ethan I…congratulations. Please express my regards to your wife.”
An uncharacteristic blush stole across the doctor’s face. “Yes, I will. Kathleen and I are very happy, but how did you—”
“I knew as soon as she arrived. Souls, they do not change fundamentally nor do they age. There could be only one explanation for the differences I saw in Kathleen’s. The child has a beautiful essence, Ethan. Strong and healthy.”
Chapter 12
Eden awoke to a light tapping. Sleep-dazed, it took several moments to convince herself the noise wasn’t another phantom lurking in wait to attack her mind with visions of madness. Her rope-thick plait whipped around to plop on her be-gowned chest as she flipped the covers back and scooped across the counterpane. Nell’s mousy mien greeted her at the chamber door.
“Begging your pardon, Miss, but Master Ambrosi wishes to speak with you in the downstairs study at your earliest convenience. Would you like me to fetch water for a bath?”
“Yes, Nell, thank you. And have something light sent up please.” Eden hadn’t been in the mood for her usual bath after the previous evening’s histrionics and now she wished she had. Then, she could have donned a serviceable dress, knotted her hair and been off. As it was, she did not think she’d survive the suspense.
He’d actually sought her out. What did he want? To apologize? Or scold? Would he bring up the kiss? Try to marginalize his jaw-dropping vanishing act? Demand she leave? No. She recoiled from the thought. If he were inclined to put her out, he would have done so after the library fray. She bathed, dressed, and ate, her mind aflame with dozens of scenarios.
* * *
Eden entered his study without knocking on the off chance that he had left off his spectacles and she might at last catch a glimpse of the closest guarded secret since Louis the XIV’s man-in-the-iron-mask. No such luck. Even from across the room she spied the curved silver spectacles tucked behind his ears. The moody master of the house stood with his back to her, staring out into the gardens abutting the study’s window-ed posterior wall. A hand flung carelessly over his shoulder bidding she take a seat, was his only greeting.
Eden surveyed the room as she advanced inside. Should she sit in the hearth-facing couch, or one of two straight-backed interrogation chairs opposite the desk, or the ottoman, standing on wedge legs between the hearth and the couch? She chose the ottoman, anticipating that he would prefer her in one of the desk chairs. Still he did not turn to face her.
Without preamble, he spoke. “Tell me about your early life, your family.”
The odd request did not fit any of her scenarios. Nervous and skeptical of his motives, Eden fumbled over her words. “Eh…I…grew up in Boston.”
“Yes, that much became obvious the moment Ethan dried you off and your natural voice returned.” He cast his face in profile over his shoulder. “What of your English relations?”
“I am not well acquainted with the English branch save for my cousin Millicent and she’s…” Eden trailed off, not wishing to re-visit the painful loss. “My grandparents on my father’s side are the Lord and Lady Prescott of London. I do not know much about them, having only met them once a very long time ago…”
* * *
Dom relaxed as he listened. Her melodic voice blew like a cool breeze across his skin, making a larger impression on him than the words themselves.
“…And then there are Millie’s parents, Uncle Edward and Aunt Margaret I think is her name. I have a clearer picture of them, as they felt obliged to do their “duty” visit to the states once every five years. They always brought my cousin Millie along, and for that I am grateful. She and I were fast friends. We even kept correspondence. Naturally, after mama and papa…eh… I sort her out here in England. Millie has several brothers, but I have never met either of them.”
* * *
“Not even at the burial services?” Dominic turned to face her for the first time, staring from behind shaded glass. If Eden didn’t know better, she would say that she had shocked him.
“I declined to attend.”
“Why?”
“I saw her take her last breath. I did not require further proof that she was dead.”
“And yet, you obviously bore your cousin great affection.” He seemed to find the information fascinating.
Eden watched him pivot away from the window, coming forward to partially bridge the gulf between them. Seeing her opening, she chanced a question of her own. “Are your parents living?”
He stopped mid-stride. Eden feared that she had blind-sided him back into silence. She watched him glide one powerful sinewy hand unhurried along the lacquered tabletop behind the couch, deep in contemplation. Eden swallowed hard as she imagined that same hand roaming down her touch-starved flesh, fingers spread to increase the expansion of skin he caressed. The light caress then evolved into a heavy, demanding stroke, blinding her thought with a frenzy of sensations and…
“No.” His voice broke into her thoughts, “My father passed recently. Our…relationship did not reflect what ought to have been between a father and son.” He took a step towards her, but then thought better, because he walked in another direction with no great focus of where he was going. “Luc
ca was weak…ineffectual. He allowed…things he should have prevented. I often worry that I am too much like him.”
Eden dogged his meandering steps around the room with sympathetic eyes. His words and manner telegraphed a deep-seated…vulnerability, similar but not as heart wrenching as what she’d witnessed the night before. She longed to enveloped him in a hug, reassure him with words, but truthfully, she did not know him well enough for anything she said to hold much weight. Perhaps it would benefit him to talk about it. So, she did her level best to draw him out into the open.
“What about your mother?”
“There are some women who should not be allowed to procreate. My mother was one such woman. She had strange beliefs—on religion, the Almighty and the other one—beliefs and practices she inflected on us with malicious tenacity.”
“But without her you would not exist.”
“Perhaps it is better never to be born than to live in suspended agony.” He cocked his dark head, supposing she should understand what he meant.
His words alarmed Eden, reminding her of the despair that had prompted her pseudo-suicide, but at the same time his words also wove a tenuous bond between them. Had he, like she, flirted with death? What had he endured to prompt such drastic measures? Abuse? Neglect? A little of both, from what she could gleam.
“Yes. I do see your point.” Taking a deep breath, Eden prepared to ask the one question she’d been longing to know since she first laid eyes on his shaded gaze. “Dominic, why do you wear the spectacles?”
He stilled, then straightened…the emotional floodgates dammed. His face was again a stoic mask. Uh-oh. She’d finally driven him a step too far. “Why wear clothes, Miss Prescott?” His tenor clipped and sarcastic.
Familiar with his mood swings, she did not flinch. “Society dictates that one’s nakedness be covered.”
An inky brow arched above the infamous eyewear. His voice lowered to a velvety rumble. “Society isn’t here now, Ms. Prescott. And yet you still conceal your body beneath that dress.”
Eden blushed at his outrageous challenge. No doubt, designed to unnerve her. “Mister Ambrosi, I hardly think-”
“Enough.” He dismissed any further comment. “Ethan returned this morning. He and I are in agreement. It is time, past time, you re-entered your life. We will send word to The Prescotts. I am sure they will be more than happy to open their home, perhaps even give you a season.”
No! Her heart railed against the idea of losing him so soon. “I am not so sure. In fact about it, I have no faith in their willingness to take me in.”
He said nothing, but his intense stare demanded an explanation.
“Papa and mama did not feel safe on the same continent with them. Why should I trust them any more than they did? Particularly, now, when I am defenseless. They could very well throw me into the care of that Montgomery character.”
He tensed; a tick went to work at his jaw line. “Why do you say that?”
Eden came to a sudden, reckless decision. If what she suspected was true then he wouldn’t be altogether horrified. And, she needed a reason…a legitimate reason to avoid being sent away.
“I hear voices.” She confessed. “Imagine people…see horrible events that haven’t happened.” She kept her eyes lowered and her hands clasped. “I feel disembodied hands molesting me, have urges to do abominable things.”
Eden allowed her gaze to wonder up to his face, lowering her voice to a mere thread of sound. “You’re different too, aren’t you.”
She searched his face for any hint of a reaction: shock, guilt, fear, but found none. Not a twitch. She might just as well have told him she had a bad dream.
He crossed his hands in front. “No. I’m afraid my differences must be another of your pesky imaginings.” Sarcasm abounded.
Feeling the need for added strength, Eden stood. She approached him with a mind to eradicate his stoic manner once and for all…ready to do battle if necessary. “You disappeared straight from my arms last night. I didn’t imagine that, did I?”
“Is that your proof? Do you intend to run to the constable…or better yet…the parish priest? Claiming witchcraft and sacrilege.” His cavalier words, dared her to do just that, were as a red flag to a bull. “What will you tell the priest and the constable you were doing at the time, little one? Needle-work?”
Her hands balled into fists at her sides. Damn him! Eden knew she shouldn’t let him bait her, but she couldn’t seem to control her irritation.
“I am American and I can return there anytime I wish it. Why should I give a hoot if the lot of you English dandies declare me ruined and unmarriageable? Had I any notion of remaining respectable I wouldn’t have tarried on this estate not one night. Haunted ponds. Scars that aren’t there. Voices in the shadows.” The accusations slice through the air like flaming darts fired at enemy lines. “Whisperings and frightened servants. A host who hides his fears and inadequacies behind tinted glasses and conceit. I wonder…Just who was Mr. Montgomery really investigating, Dominic, if not me?”
Chapter 13
Dom stood adjacent his desk, watching her fume. Though logic was on his side, he could tell she wasn’t ready to concede the battle. “You, Ms. Prescott, are a woman who has attempted suicide, not once but twice over. Who would believe you?”
“Matthias Montgomery for one.” She lobbed another stone at his glass house. Despite her delicate feminine appearance, she was far from a shrinking violet. “But even if he did not…what does it matter? It’s the implication that damns, not the evidence.”
Dominic frowned. She had the right of it, he knew. Hell, he’d echoed the same sentiments to Ethan at breakfast. Having his own argument thrown back in his face worried him. She wasn’t a fool either.
He was losing ground…he should retreat, strategize, lest she press her advantage. Instead, he looked down at the cluttered desktop, his fingers toying at the edge of the ink well. He felt her watching him, as the strained silence stretched out over a full minute.
“Would you do that…if I sent you away from here?” He fidgeted with his glasses, waiting for her answer. Was she angling to blackmail him? She could, with the knowledge she had of him.
“No, Dominic. I wouldn’t do that to you.”
Dom exhaled, lifting his gaze to her. Weary at the moment of fighting the urge to submit to the powerful draw her fragile beauty had on him. He absorbed her graceful stance, the wisps of blonde softness licking her nape. Her pouty rosebud mouth triggered flashes of the night before, when she let him plunder that moist hot cove at his leisure. His groin tightened at the memory.
She’d gained a pound or two, he noticed. The dress she wore today cling to an outlined form beneath…her breast though small, curved hill-like in the bodice while her hips gently made themselves known despite the wealth of under-things insulating them.
“You may remain here while Ethan and I contact your relatives.” He heard himself say. His heart filled with a confusing mixture of relief and worry. “If they are as unwelcoming as you claim…then we will make other arrangements.”
* * *
That was as much of a reprieve as she was going to get, Eden realized. Still, it bought her hope and a few more days—possibly another week—in the place that held for her a snug fitting rightness. She had a friend in Kathleen, an ally she suspected in the doctor, and a promise of possibilities with the man before her. She felt more at home than she had since she’d fled her home in Boston and all its stifling memories and losses.
He cleared his throat. Eden glanced around to see that Dominic had moved to the door. “If you will excuse me, Ms. Prescott.”
“Certainly.” She replied, back on her best behavior.
But he paused mid-ways the threshold and turned back.
“Anisocoria. Heterochromia iridium. Unilateral ocular albinism. Take your pick.”
Her brow wrinkled at the foreign-sounding words.
Dom tapped the side of his spectacles. “Cael and Ethan are fond
of obscure scientific explanations.”
“What…does all that mean? Does it affect your sight?”
“Not overmuch.”
Eden’s gaze followed the Italian enigma as he exited, leaving her with half-an-explanation. Naturally, she spent the rest of the day in his magnificent library, researching the terms. Taking long breaks to nap in front of the hearth, or sketch in the beguiling sunlight beaming in from all directions. She had no qualms about breaking her word to keep clear of his domain…not after that kiss. He obviously had no plans to keep clear of her.
She found herself anticipating rather than dreading their next encounter, and whatever possible delight or shock it may hold. She fed greedily off the provocative sensations, the wayward longings he stirred in her…craving more not less.
Chapter 14
Rank air hung, chilled, thin, and infused with raw odors, the origins of which were better left unnamed. A sad wooden cot buckled tiredly under the weight of two, one feeble of limb, a second robust and beefy. The mattress, little more than exaggerated straw-stuffed padding, bumped the floor with each new thrust.
Matthias glanced down into bleary unfocused windows to a mind no more aware of what was happening to its body than a tree being chopped for firewood. Disgusted with the slack, drool-smeared mouth, he turned loose one imprisoned wrist to spread-eagle his hand across the nameless female face. He quickened his pace, ready to have his pleasure and be done with the deed…making a silent promise to select a more feisty subject next time, still malleable, but also alive and kicking. Perhaps a fair-skinned blonde like what he’d lucked upon at the Ambrosi estates? Or that red-haired tiger, his cock twitched at the idea of having to tame one for a change. He’d grown tired of the busty brunettes he usually favored.
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