by Alexa Aston
No matter what, though, Hudson would make the couple pay. It might take him months—even years—before he could devise the best way to make them suffer the most but he would see that they were punished in an appropriate manner.
“George, will you remain here?” he asked spontaneously.
“Cook walked out this morning. She was ready to retire and only hanging on until Lord Morrison passed. She’s gone to her sister in Sussex. The maid told me today is her last day. The squire who bought the two horses last week has agreed to take her on.” He looked to the heavens, rolling his eyes. “I have nowhere to go. I don’t know if his lordship will want me to remain at Morris Park or not. He and Lady Morrison left Morris Park, not a quarter of an hour ago. I’m surprised you didn’t see their carriage since they were headed back to London. I received no instructions. I feel adrift, to be honest.”
Hudson’s heart went out to this loyal retainer. “I can’t guarantee you a position as a valet, George, but I have a very large family. There are also offices and a warehouse in London. We have interests in shipping. I know we could find you work somewhere. Perhaps even assisting Lady Mia as she conducts her experiments.”
Tears formed in the servant’s eyes. “Are you certain, Mr. St. Clair? I . . . it would mean the world to me. Anywhere but here.”
“Go and quickly pack your things,” he suggested. “You can return to London with me.”
“I have very little, sir. I can be outside in five minutes.” With that, the valet scurried off, his footsteps echoing in the empty house.
Knowing the Morrisons had already departed the property, he was tempted to go in search of Lady Mia’s locket since the piece belonged to her. It was heartless for the viscount to keep it from her. Hudson would like to see it restored to its rightful owner. The trouble was, he had no idea where to look for the locket. Worse, if Lord Morrison ever discovered what Hudson had done, he could be branded a thief. He couldn’t risk bringing dishonor to his family and pushed aside the regrets he had for Lady Mia’s loss.
Hudson opened the front door and shut it behind him. The sharp winter wind bit into him as he started toward the coach. Then a mournful yowl sounded and a flash of orange bounded toward him.
Mia’s cat.
He’d seen it in the stables on his first visit. It had a pretty coat but was missing its right eye. The tabby wound through his legs several times before he leaned down and lifted it.
“You got left behind, I see. I’ll bet you’re missing your mistress.”
The cat blinked.
“I think you also need to abandon this sinking ship, my friend. You won’t be wanted here. As it is, it already looks as if you’ve been kicked from the house.”
He went to the carriage and told his driver they would leave for London as soon as their passenger arrived.
“Where to, Mr. St. Clair?” the driver asked.
“Back to Lord Trentham’s,” he ordered.
As Hudson opened the vehicle’s door, balancing the cat in one arm, George came out and beamed.
“You’ve got Nelson. Lady Mia will be so pleased.”
“Nelson?”
“After Admiral Nelson. He also lost his right eye in battle. Lady Mia thought it an appropriate name.” The servant paused. “Thank you again, Mr. St. Clair. I’ll ride with your driver.”
George handed a small valise up and then climbed up beside the driver. Hudson and Nelson entered the vehicle. As they made their way toward London, Nelson curled up in Hudson’s lap, warming it. Absently, he stroked the cat.
As he plotted ways to avenge Lady Mia and bring down the Morrisons.
Chapter Nine
Mia joined her aunt and uncle in a sunny breakfast room, wearing an ill-fitting gown that belonged to her aunt. It only struck her mid-calf due to the several inches she had on Aunt Fanny. The bodice was much too tight and her breasts threatened to spill from the dress so she’d been given what her aunt called a fichu. Aunt Fanny said the scarf could be draped over her shoulders and fastened in front or worn as Mia did today, using it to fill in the low neckline. None of her aunt’s dresses had even come close to fitting her properly. She was self-conscious wearing it because of how wrong it seemed, not only in size but in simply being in a dress for the first time since she could remember.
Aunt Fanny must have seen her discomfort and said, “I will go to a few modistes today and see which one will be suited toward creating a new wardrobe for you.”
Her aunt had already explained that Mia was to stay home while her aunt visited various dress makers, hoping to convince one of quality to come to the townhouse and take her niece’s measurements. Mia couldn’t be seen in public in either this gown or the shirt and trousers that she’d arrived in yesterday. Aunt Fanny had been so worried that the neighbors would see Mia and be scandalized that she’d wrapped Mia in a blanket from head to toe and had the driver drop them off in the back of the house so they could slip inside through the kitchen.
She saw her aunt frown. “You will need more than dresses, Mia, and many kinds of those in order to be properly outfitted for the upcoming Season and beyond. You need underclothes. Shoes. Bonnets. Gloves. It’s almost too much to think about.”
“Please don’t worry about the cost, Aunt Fanny. When I sign the contract from Mr. St. Clair and receive the funds for my steam engine, I will be able to pay for my new clothing.”
“Trentham tells me that the amount is quite large.” Pity filled her aunt’s eyes. “I’m sorry that will also have to serve as your dowry. The Foreign Service doesn’t pay much and poor Trentham has devoted so much of his life to it.”
“I would never expect you to provide a dowry for me,” Mia protested, keeping quiet about the fact that she would not be using the leftover money for a dowry. She didn’t intend to wed. The money she received from the St. Clair contract would go to fund her future research. It might also have to provide for her to rent a few rooms. When Aunt Fanny realized Mia had no interest in making a society match, she might ask her to leave the house.
“Speaking of the contract,” her uncle said, “my solicitor, Mr. Grant, is coming at ten o’clock this morning to speak to us regarding it.”
“That’s excellent news, Uncle. May I read over the contract before he arrives? Though Mr. St. Clair told me the gist of the content, I would like to familiarize myself with the language and specifics.”
“A splendid idea. A copy was provided to you. It’s in my study.”
“May I read it there?” she asked.
“Of course, dear girl. It’s sitting on top of the desk.”
Mia excused herself and went straight to the study. She sat in the chair behind her uncle’s desk and read the contract slowly and thoroughly. It covered everything Mr. St. Clair had said it would and the sum she was being paid was a princely one. She could live on it for years, if necessary, though she hoped her wish to remain unmarried did not alienate her from her aunt and uncle. They’d already been so good to her.
She blinked away the sudden tears that filled her eyes, which had come by the bucket as they traveled to London yesterday. Part of her cried for losing the life she’d once known, one of peace and introspection, filled with creativity. Part of her was relieved that her father had passed. He would not have wanted to continue to live in the fog that surrounded him. Selfishly, she also cried because Nelson had been left behind. She’d been so upset by the foul words from her cousin and his viper of a wife that she hadn’t thought to look for her cat as she left. She doubted the couple had any loving bones in their bodies and only hoped they wouldn’t find Nelson and be cruel to him. He did love to stay in the kitchen with Cook. Mia only hoped Cook would watch out for Nelson and keep him safe.
Her uncle entered the study with Mr. Grant a few minutes later. She greeted the solicitor, who looked like everyone’s favorite grandfather, with snow white hair and a twinkle in his eyes.
Once the three were settled in chairs, Mr. Grant said, “You must be a very clever and c
reative woman, Lady Mia. The St. Clairs are paying you a king’s ransom for this steam engine of yours. Do you know what they’ll use it for?”
“No, Mr. Grant. We didn’t discuss that. However, Mr. St. Clair did mention that he would like to offer me another contract.”
“Oh, you have another invention for him to buy?” her uncle asked.
She needed to tread lightly here and wanted to do so out of her aunt’s hearing.
“No, Uncle. This would be for me to work with those who will see my design produced. Mr. St. Clair wanted a few more tests run on it to make sure the engine does what I told him it did. He would also like me to help oversee the production and remedy any problems that might arise.”
“I see.” Uncle Trentham steepled his fingers. “How long would this contract run?”
“He mentioned three years. I’m sure that could be adjusted. He also wanted to review other designs of mine. There’s a strong possibility he may buy more ideas and machines from me.”
Mr. Grant looked delighted by her news. Uncle Trentham grew thoughtful and didn’t speak for a good minute.
Finally, he said, “Is this what you want, Mia? To continue your father’s work?”
“I do, Uncle,” she said firmly. “At this point, it is my work alone. Father wasn’t in a position to do much for several years.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know how you did it, Mia. Care for your papa and still complete all the work you did. You are a remarkable woman.”
She glowed with pride at the compliment. “Thank you for saying so.”
He cleared his throat. “It’s going to cause trouble with Fanny. She won’t like it one bit, you dirtying your hands in business.” He smiled. “You’ll leave her to me. I’ll see you may do as you choose.”
She sprang to her feet with joy. “Oh, thank you, Uncle Trentham. Thank you.” She hugged his neck and kissed his cheek. “You don’t know what this means to me.”
“I have some idea, my dear. However, you must help me with Fanny. She wants to launch you into society. I know that’s not your priority but it will make her happy. Fanny misses her sister dreadfully, even after all these years, and felt she let her down in regard to your upbringing. Give her this one Season. Go to the parties. Make a few friends. See what life is like beyond the walls of your work. If you wish to wed, you may do so.”
“I doubt I could find a man who would agree to allow me to continue my work.”
“You’re right. If you do, though, marry him—for he will be a good man who sees more than your beauty. He will know what lies underneath it.”
Mia looked to Mr. Grant. “Mr. St. Clair should contact me soon regarding this other matter. What must I do now to make things official with the contract in hand?”
“I will contact Mr. Davidson. He is the one who prepared it. I will let you know which office we will meet in for both parties to sign since you are agreeable. You’re certain you wish for no changes to be made in the language or terms?”
“No, not a one. I’m very comfortable with the way it is worded. Unless you have an idea of something which should be included?”
“I think it’s a solid piece.” His eyes sparkled. “If I were you, I’d sign it without hesitation.”
They ended the meeting, with her uncle asking Mr. Grant to accompany him to his club for luncheon. The men left and Mia remained in the study. She took out pen and paper and started making notes on the ways she could test her model engine. Then an idea came for a new project and she dashed it off, too. She decided she would need to go to a stationer’s shop in order to purchase new notebooks for recording everything. She found it much more efficient to have her observations and ideas in a bound volume instead of written on scattered pages that could easily get out of order or lost.
She left the study, wanting to find the butler and ask if someone could go to the stationer’s for her since she couldn’t leave the house dressed as she was. As she moved down the hallway, the butler appeared around the corner.
“I have a question, Soames.”
She explained what she needed and the butler said he would take care of it at once.
“You should have your notebooks within the hour, Lady Mia. I’ll send a footman now.”
“Thank you so much, Soames.”
“My lady, I was coming to find you. You have a guest. A Mr. St. Clair. He is in the small parlor downstairs.”
“Oh, that’s marvelous news.”
“Lady Mia, I only came to inform you he is here. You shouldn’t see him.”
His words puzzled her. “Why not?”
The butler frowned. “Neither Lord nor Lady Trentham are home.”
“You said he came to see me,” she insisted. “Why would that matter?”
Now, the butler looked uncomfortable. “Perhaps things were different in the country, my lady, but a young, unmarried woman does not entertain a gentleman by herself. I am merely making you aware of his call and can give you time to pen a message to him. He did, however, bring—”
“Pish-posh, Soames. I have business with Mr. St. Clair. It cannot wait.”
She hurried past the servant. Her aunt had spent several hours last night telling Mia about the Season and what was expected. How important it was to follow the rules. Her ears had hurt after Aunt Fanny got past two dozen of them and she’d tuned her out for the rest. She saw no reason she couldn’t speak to Mr. St. Clair alone. It wasn’t as if he’d gobble her up and spit her out or spirit her away to Gretna Green. Aunt Fanny had warned Mia especially about being alone with a man because he might take advantage of her. She was never to put herself in that circumstance because two things might occur. One, she might be compromised if a man kissed her, forcing them to wed. Two, she might be carried off in a carriage to Scotland—to Gretna Green—and be forced to wed there.
Neither of those applied in this situation. Mr. St. Clair wasn’t going to kiss her. He certainly wasn’t going to abduct her and force her into marriage. On the contrary, he viewed her as a business partner. Their relationship was one of mutual regard involving her inventions. He needed her here, in London, with them. If she wed and was forced to stay home, he could make no profit.
Of course, that didn’t mean her heart wasn’t pounding in anticipation of seeing him again. He was certainly a good-looking man. So tall and dark and built as if he were sturdy as a Roman wall. She swallowed nervously, hoping she would be able to carry on a reasonable conversation with him. They could talk about the contract, for one thing, and she could ask him if he were still interested in signing a second agreement regarding her services.
Mia entered the parlor and saw him sitting in a chair. Instead of looking at him, though, her eyes flew to the furry orange circle in his lap.
“Nelson!” she cried happily.
Her cat’s head popped up and he meowed loudly before jumping down and scrambling to her. She bent and swept him up, kissing the top of his head, tears spilling down her face.
“I thought I’d lost you forever.”
After numerous kisses to the top of Nelson’s head, he began wiggling and she knew he’d had his fill of attention. She leaned down and released him.
By now, Mr. St. Clair had risen. Mia hurried to him. Without thinking, she enthusiastically threw her arms about him.
“Oh, thank you, Mr. St. Clair. Thank you so very, very much!”
Then she kissed him.
He seemed as startled as she was by her actions. She discovered his lips were firm and warm. She could smell his sandalwood soap and the cold of winter still clinging to him. She started to pull away but his hands went to her waist and held her in place. She already was pressed against him, her breasts touching the muscled wall of his chest. A tingle rippled through her, an awareness of him as a man. Of her as a woman. She stiffened.
Then his lips brushed against hers. They had softened. The tingles continued. Her breasts seemed to swell against him. One hand slid to the small of her back, anchoring him against her. The kis
s continued. Mia knew she shouldn’t be engaging in it for a dozen reasons but didn’t want to stop. All reason fled. What she knew was his body, warm against hers. His mouth on hers. His scent filling her nostrils. Her arms tightened about his neck. She had to get closer. Something urged her to do so.
He lifted his mouth from hers for a moment and then the tip of his tongue touched her bottom lip, shocking her. It ran lazily along it, back and forth, stealing her breath and causing her heart to pound fiercely against her ribs. Then he outlined her entire mouth with it, causing a shiver to move down her spine. A very good shiver. Not one of being cold. One that spoke of a fire being lit within her.
He kissed her again and she struggled to understand why Aunt Fanny would have told her kissing was forbidden. Then his tongue ran along the seam of her mouth, causing her to gasp. As she opened to him, his tongue swept inside her mouth, causing more of those delicious shivers to run through her. His hand remained at the small of her back but his other left her waist and moved to cradle her cheek. Mia felt cherished. Adored. And hot. Very, very hot. As if she stood facing an enormous fire that wished to consume her. Suddenly, she understood exactly what Aunt Fanny was talking about. How dangerous kissing could be. Her body throbbed now, on fire, as he continued to tease her with his tongue.
He deepened the kiss and now she clung to him, afraid to let go, afraid she’d fall and never surface from the depths of where he took her. A tiny voice told her she had to end this, now, or suffer the consequences. Though her body pulsed with need, she was coherent enough to know she must be the one to end it.
