Seducing Eden

by Allison Lane

  He cursed under his breath.

  Even escaping danger couldn’t explain the intensity of his response. He’d never felt anything like it. Last night she had brought him more pleasure than he’d known was possible. And he hadn’t even entered her. He’d never imagined a woman who could arouse him with a glance, who was as eager to explore pleasure as he, who went up in flames without pretense or shame. She was more adventurous than anyone he’d met.

  But the more he learned of her character, the less likely it seemed that she would accept a liaison. Her entire life had been devoted to others – her father, her sister, her husband. Duty was more than a word to her. She approached it the same way an honorable man would, putting it always first.

  That wouldn’t change. She still felt a duty toward her sister and toward the estate she had inherited from John. Both demanded attention. Both required that she maintain an impeccable reputation. Both needed money.

  But despite her financial woes, Eden would never accept payment for the use of her body, even if they could meet in total secrecy. So once this investigation ended, he would likely never see her again.

  Pain stabbed him at the thought.

  To forget the fires ravaging his groin, he forced his mind to their pursuer. The man was clearly dangerous. Eden would not be safe until the fellow was caught.

  As the miles passed, Eden relaxed more fully against him, falling into real slumber. With his libido finally under control, he was content to hold her, with no expectation of more when she woke. It surprised him that she could provide comfort as well as passion.

  He frowned, for it didn’t make sense. Nurses comforted their charges, but it wasn’t something people expected later in life. Women made exciting bed partners or obedient wives. Touching them did not offer comfort. Unless…

  She’d saved his life. He’d already been stupefied when she’d awakened him. Again his instincts had failed. He should have awakened at the first whiff of smoke. He should never have fallen asleep to begin with. Granted, he’d been wrung dry, but—

  He couldn’t blame Eden. No matter how enervating an encounter proved, he never slept when danger lurked – or hadn’t on any previous assignment. But two years of retirement had dulled his wits. Without frequent exercise, his instincts had lost the sharp edge that had so often saved him from harm.

  Another failure he must accept. One that boded ill for this investigation. If he couldn’t trust his instincts, how was he to succeed?

  Chapter Twelve

  Alex studied Ridley as the carriage drew to a halt before the steps. Eden’s estate was a modest manor, ten bedrooms in size, set in a large park. Its drive circled a broad lawn cropped by two dozen sheep. The kitchen garden lurked beyond a band of trees to the right. To the left were stables. Tall privet hedges separated those areas from the formal gardens beyond the house. Dense woods climbed a low hill in the distance.

  The house was in reasonable condition, though the door needed paint. But there was nothing unique about it. Dozens of similar structures dotted the countryside.

  “Has Ridley always been in the Marlow family?” he asked as the groom let down the steps.

  “No. It was Christine’s dowry, though they never lived here. John and I only moved here to escape the arguments with his father.” As her foot hit the ground, she cursed.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She gestured toward a curricle drawn up nearby. “Why is Jeremy here?”

  “Calling on your sister?”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of. He is personable when he exerts himself, but I can’t trust him. Even if he is innocent of stealing the stone, he is obsessed with John’s collection and is using Olivia to spend time with it. I don’t want her hurt.”

  “Would you sell it to him?”

  “He couldn’t afford it. And even if he could somehow scrape up the cost of it, he wouldn’t dare offer. His longstanding financial problems have put him under Richard’s thumb. Richard would throw a fit. Ignoring Richard’s wishes would terminate his job and likely send him to the Marshalsea.”

  Debtor’s prison. He’d had nightmares about the place during his years of poverty. “Are you sure his pockets are to let?”

  “He often mentioned being purse-pinched when discussing antiquities with John. He may have exaggerated in hopes that John would offer him pieces at bargain prices, of course, but not by much. He hates Richard and dislikes Marwood Hill. Only desperation would make him accept a job there that must last months. The collection is a mess. John catalogued barely a quarter of it.”

  “So Jeremy must do what Sir Richard wants or lose his income.”

  She sighed. “Exactly. Which is why this terrifies me.” She gestured toward the curricle. “Risking Richard’s ire to sneak another look at John’s collection indicates that his obsession is growing dangerous. Perhaps he thinks I won’t notice if a few pieces go missing.”

  Alex shook his head. “If Olivia is as levelheaded as you claim, I doubt he can bamboozle her. Nor would a levelheaded miss give her heart to a scoundrel. Don’t fret yourself into megrims when there is no evidence of a problem.”

  * * * *

  Eden frowned. The collection was not her greatest concern, for her doubts about the authenticity of its contents decreased its value. She would probably end up throwing most of it away. The real problem was Olivia, for the girl wasn’t quite as levelheaded as Alex thought. Raising her to be a lady might have protected her from the seamier aspects of life, but it left her naïve, easy prey for a rogue. Eden now knew just how enticing men could be. And if Olivia shared her penchant for wantonness…

  She feared that Jeremy was a budding rake who would claim Olivia’s heart, for there was a spark in his eye she didn’t like. Olivia would eventually outgrow such an attachment, but by then, Alex would be gone. Finding a local suitor was impossible. Dowry aside, no man of decent breeding would risk Richard’s ire to court the girl.

  Her fears grew when they reached the drawing room. Jeremy leaned negligently against the mantel, every inch the dandy. Olivia sat demurely on a couch, a teacup in one hand. But both were blushing, and Olivia was breathing too fast. After five days with Alex, Eden recognized arousal all too easily. Even if it meant being deliberately rude, she had to get rid of Jeremy before Alex decided that Olivia was taken.

  Pasting a false smile on her face, she moved to Jeremy’s side. “I regret that I was absent when you arrived, Mr. Highbottom, and I’m devastated that duty calls you away before we can exchange condolences, but we will do so next time.”

  At least Jeremy had the grace to know when he was not wanted. One could never fault his manners. “Perhaps next week when you have recovered from your journey,” he said smoothly. “For now, I bid you adieu. And you, Miss Higgins,” he added, bowing in Olivia’s direction. Without sparing a glance for Alex, to whom he had not been presented, he left.

  “That was unpardonably rude,” snapped Olivia.

  “Not at all. You should know better than to entertain gentlemen without a chaperon. I don’t care if he is John’s cousin, he knows it is improper to call when I am away. I won’t have him poking through John’s collection.” Giving Olivia no chance to argue, she gestured Alex forward and made the introductions.

  Olivia’s eyes widened, for she, too, had expected a much older man. Alex’s broad shoulders made Jeremy’s slenderness seem boyish in contrast, which boded well. Dandies looked downright silly next to Alex, for his masculinity permeated every corner of the room, sucking out the air until it was difficult to breathe. There was something not quite tame…

  While Olivia openly ogled him, Eden covered a burst of irritation with a smile and guided the conversation to general remarks about her trip. Olivia sparkled in social situations. Alex must see the girl in the best light from the beginning.

  It seemed to work. He relaxed, even laughing at Olivia’s quips.

  Eden’s chest constricted – from nerves, she assured herself. Only marriage would assure Olivia’s f
uture and discharge Eden’s obligations, and Alex was the only viable candidate.

  But remaining silent so he could focus solely on Olivia was difficult, especially when he deprecated his investigative abilities, describing himself as an assistant who had occasionally looked into complaints on behalf of the Home Secretary before his grandmother’s bequest had allowed him to retire to the country.

  A quarter hour passed before Olivia excused herself. Alex immediately frowned. “I wish you hadn’t thrown Highbottom out.”

  “I hate sneaks, and I don’t want him here. I would like to forget the entire family, if truth be told.” Irritation drove her to her feet. To cover her reaction, she added a lump of coal to the fire.

  “But I wanted to watch him when he wasn’t wary.”

  “He is always wary, which adds to my suspicions. I don’t recall ever seeing him relax, even when drinking with John.” She straightened the vase of spills that Jeremy had bumped.

  “I don’t believe he would have returned here if he’d taken the stone.”

  “Any change in his interests would be remarked.” She shrugged.

  “Not after John’s death. And he is not the man who followed us from London.”

  “But we don’t know if the man who followed us is the same man who stole the stone. Besides,” she added when Alex tried to object, “Jeremy could easily be here as Richard’s spy, apart from the Sarsos question or his own interests. Richard was furious that Ridley came to me. He refused me any help, blaming me for John’s poverty and predicting I would run the estate into the ground inside a year.” She still seethed over that encounter.

  “Why would that lead to spying? Even if you had run through John’s fortune, it is gone and cannot be recovered. And he can hardly claim rights to an estate that was never in the family. I cannot imagine Jeremy poking through your desk and jewelry case. He seems a mannerly man.”

  “Hardly. Tricking an innocent into revealing private information is unconscionable.” Not until Alex frowned did she realize that he’d likely done the same thing on occasion, so she added, “Unlike your investigations, he lacks an excuse that can justify it.”

  “Perhaps.” He changed the subject. “You said Sir Richard refused to help you. Do you mean in some way beyond insisting that John’s death was an accident?”

  She cursed herself for mentioning it. She must remember that Alex’s mind was a spider’s web that trapped everything flying by. “Nothing in particular. He was furious over the will and warned me to expect no help from him, now or in the future.” It wasn’t the whole truth, but seemed to satisfy him.

  The day they’d read John’s will was not one she would soon forget. She’d approached Richard because he was presenting his daughter to society this Season. Since Olivia would soon be out of black gloves – mourning for a brother was much shorter than for a husband – Eden had hoped that he would take Olivia with him. His sponsorship would have improved her chances, and staying with Richard would have lowered Eden’s costs.

  He’d refused, citing Olivia’s low breeding and blaming Eden for giving the girl airs above her station. He’d dismissed her reminder that John had considered Olivia the child he’d never had. Nor had he accepted that John had squandered his fortune over Eden’s protests. Richard believed that all women were profligates, that Eden’s inferior breeding must enhance that tendency, and that her years of poverty had made restraint impossible once she married money.

  Rather than argue with a close-minded fool, she had given up. If he was determined to see her as a gamester and spendthrift, nothing would sway him.

  Alex interrupted her thoughts. “Antagonistic or not, I must speak with him and discover if he’s traced the pistol you described. If it’s by Manton, there will be records. And if there’s any chance that he sent Jeremy here, then I should see him now.”

  It had already gone two o’clock, but she nodded, warning him, “We dine at six.” Then she headed upstairs.

  * * * *

  “How dare you entertain that flirt without a chaperon?” Eden demanded when she reached Olivia’s room. “He will ruin you if given half a chance. He is far too young for marriage and has no means of supporting a wife even if he wanted one. Christine’s family bears us no love, and the Marlows are worse. At best he means to enjoy a light flirtation. At worst…” She shuddered. “Men like him think nothing of seducing a girl of imperfect breeding, then abandoning her.”

  “He is not like that.”

  “But he is. Remember Damon? He was very like Jeremy, with charm and manners to spare. He could make you believe black was white if he tried. I recall all too well how Lizzy Fuller found herself with child.” She had nearly succumbed to the rascal herself, Eden recalled in disgust. That flirtation was the reason her father had packed her off to friends for a month. Guilt had assailed her ever since. Despite Alex’s platitudes, she knew her father would never have shot himself had she been at home.

  Olivia frowned at the reminder. Discovering Lizzy in the family way had made an impression on the eight-year-old, too.

  Eden softened her tone. “Forget Jeremy, my dear. He can never wed you. And even if by some miracle he did, you would regret it for all of your days. The Marlows despise low breeding, and the Highbottoms are nearly as bad. You would not enjoy being one of them.”

  Olivia looked as if she wished to argue, but she held her tongue, which reminded Eden of how stubborn the girl could be – and how contrary. Suggesting that she consider Alex as a suitor might make her reject him out of hand.

  “I need your help with Mr. Portland,” she said instead. “Nothing onerous, I hope.”

  “What?”

  “He has agreed to investigate John’s death, but I was gone longer than I’d planned. My desk must be groaning under accumulated problems. Can you entertain him while I catch up?”

  “Of course, though I’d planned to call on Mrs. Sommers tomorrow. She’s taken a chill.”

  “Certainly you must call. I expect Mr. Portland will be busy all day. But if you could see after him this evening…”

  Olivia nodded, then demanded an accounting of Eden’s trip.

  Eden made sure she painted Alex in a heroic light, exaggerating his exploits and hiding all hints of her slide from grace. “When our inn caught fire last night, he pitched in, working beside grooms, shopkeepers, and even the boot boy until the fire was out,” she finished.

  “Fire?” Olivia’s eyes widened.

  “It wasn’t serious,” she lied. “But it was frightening enough at the time. He made sure everyone escaped and even carried an elderly maid down from the attic.”

  “How awful.”

  “Exactly. So see that he relaxes after dinner. He needs it.”

  Olivia nodded. “And you must speak with Harris,” she said, naming the steward. “A corner of Walden’s roof collapsed yesterday – all this rain. Harris is dithering between replacement and another patch.”

  Damn! It would be their first confrontation since John’s death. And she had no money to support her orders.

  * * * *

  Alex rode toward Marwood Hill, pondering how much to tell Sir Richard. He doubted the man cared a whit about Sarsos. He was a stuffy prig who expected everyone to copy his own taste – very like Stratford, now that he thought on it.

  But Sir Richard deserved to know about Alex’s investigation. And if he assumed that Alex remained with the Home Office, so much the better.

  Then there was the question of Eden. John’s profligacy had left her in dire straits. As head of the family, it was Sir Richard’s duty to see after his brother’s widow. Alex couldn’t force him to be kind about it, but Sir Richard would hate the scorn that would attach to him if his peers discovered he was ignoring that duty. A baronet wasn’t high enough to escape censure. Alex didn’t yet know the best solution to her problem, but he needed to at least open discussions on the point.

  The butler escorted him to Sir Richard’s study.

  “You are actually giving c
redence to that harpy’s madness?” Sir Richard demanded the moment Alex crossed the threshold, not wasting time on a more conventional greeting. He shook his head in disgust. “I would think the Home Office would have better things to do. Or perhaps not. What happened to your face?”

  “An unfortunate encounter with a knife. Careless of me.” He took a seat across the desk and tried to look relaxed.

  “It hasn’t taught you caution, though. Why the devil are you listening to such nonsense? It’s bad enough she bent my ear with it. But to go to London! Surely you realize that she is only seeking money.”

  “How?” he asked, more interested in how Sir Richard had learned of Eden’s errand than in the response. Perhaps he had sent Jeremy to spy on Eden’s household.

  “She hopes I will buy her silence, of course.” He snorted. “Having run through John’s fortune, she now hopes to tap mine. You might as well return to town. I’ve no intention of succumbing to blackmail.”

  “If I find evidence of such, I will deal with it as it deserves, but I cannot return just yet. No matter how ridiculous the charges, John was a baronet’s son, so we must investigate,” he said mildly.

  “Who would want to kill John? It was clearly an accident.”

  “Quite likely,” Alex agreed, crossing his legs. “But I need facts if I am to write a proper report. You have no objection to answering questions, I presume.”

  Sir Richard’s face darkened, but he nodded. “I won’t have you spreading this poppycock around, though. There can be no public disclosure of this discussion.”

  “You might recall that discretion is one of my strengths.” He kept his face congenial with difficulty. He and Richard had been at odds from their first meeting. Richard had been furious at Sir George’s demand for secrecy. In his view, making the original affair public would have forced his father to sell his collection. A sale had been his goal then and seemingly remained his goal today.