Sexual Hunger

by Melissa MacNeal

  And where would that lead? Every woman in the room pondered this as Yosef Polinsky bowed to Lady Darington. Then he moved on to his next willing victim.

  From one table to the next, this maddening magician circulated around the music room. Cups of tea, petits fours, and chocolate-covered biscuits were devoured without being tasted. Poor Vera did her best to refresh everyone’s tea trays without disrupting the magician’s performance. But it was doubtful any of the guests even noticed her: they were intent upon anticipating whom Polinsky would favor next, and what tasty secret he might reveal about her.

  Maria sensed that she might be spared this hocus-pocus, since Yosef had whetted everyone’s appetites with his predictions about Jason. And it was just as well: as though saving the best for his finale, Mr. Polinsky pulled a delicate bracelet from inside his dark gray suit coat, to let it dangle before them. A low “oooohhh!” echoed around the room when the gemstones caught the light and sprayed the opposite wall with rainbow stars.

  “Diamonds!” one woman whispered.

  “Whose can it be? I own nothing of the sort!” her tablemate replied.

  Smiling suavely, the showman waited for silence. “I have been most pleased to entertain you today, ladies,” he said with a courtly bow. “And I would be remiss if I did not repay our delightful hostess, Mrs. Golding, for her hospitality. Please, Meriweather—allow me to grace you with this small token of my…esteem.”

  Meriweather, was it? Maria sensed the rise of invisible antennae around the room as final sips of tea were taken. As Mrs. Golding fluttered toward him, the curls at her temples bobbed above her girlish grin. “Oh, you’ve no cause to tease me with such trinkets—”

  “Ah, but I must! No gentleman would let such a favor go unpaid, my dear.”

  As he gently fastened the clasp around her wrist, Maria speculated about what was not being said during this touching scene. Yosef Polinsky’s thick hair was streaked with a few silvery strands at his temples, but he had to be forty years younger than Meriweather Golding—

  Who then rose on tiptoe to kiss him!

  “Aunt Meriweather! Do tell!” Camille Bentley teased. Her twin chuckled, and together the two rounded, pregnant couturieres were the very expression of lusty love.

  “Oh, I think actions have spoken far louder than words!” Martha MacPherson huffed as she stood to go. “This has been a most interesting afternoon!”

  Mrs. Golding tucked her hand around Polinsky’s bent elbow, flashing a triumphant smile. “It’s my home, you know. And I’m certainly of an age to do whatever I please. I believe you’re jealous, Martha!”

  “What an unseemly idea, Meriweather! Highly unlikely.” With that, the matronly woman bustled from the room, followed by the others’ chuckles.

  Maria, however, was observing Polinsky. The man looked devilishly delighted to be the cause of such a squabble…as though the notoriety he’d gained here today might take him farther than all the playbills he could’ve posted on the city streets: these other influential, lonely ladies would now vie for his presence as a guest in their homes, too.

  What a crafty way to garner potential clients while not paying any rent! Sheer genius, that’s what the man possessed, along with a persona that would entice any female he met. And while Maria hated to give Polinsky any further publicity, he was precisely the sort of act that would sell newspapers to those interested in Miss Crimson’s dirt…and he had predicted things about Jason she could write about in her column without calling attention to herself or Rubio!

  “Tell Jude we’ll be ready in a moment,” Lady Darington murmured. “I must first thank our hostess and bid this…magician good-bye.”

  “I think you’ve said quite enough, Mother. Let’s go.”

  Dora blinked. Her son had come to fetch them, and he looked ready to spew venom. “Why are you acting so huffy?” she muttered. “And why are you telling me what to do, young man?”

  Jude let out an impolite snort as he glanced at the ladies crowding around for a last grip of Mr. Polinsky’s hand. “I heard every word that charlatan said—about Jason eluding the authorities, followed by that hogwash about auras and dead husbands speaking from the Beyond! This man is nothing but trouble—Pandora, is it?”

  Lady Darington’s expression turned catlike. “Does it surprise you that your mother keeps a secret or two? Every woman does, Jude. You’d be wise to remember that, should you ever start seeking a bride of your own.” Her gaze flickered to Maria. “Would we care to speculate about that topic?”

  “Jason’s fiancée needs no more notoriety than his absence has already created for her!” Jude pointedly offered an elbow to his mother and the other to his sister. He had to nudge Jemma with it, because she was gawking at the magician with a painfully obvious wistfulness: he had not expounded upon her aura! Nor would he bid her a special good-bye.

  “At least Mr. Polinsky shed more light on your brother’s whereabouts and condition. And never forget, dear second son, that should the heir apparent not return home, you must take on the responsibilities for the estates and the businesses, as well as for the Darington family and name.” Dora’s eyes took on a hard shine. “Your little hobbies would suffer if you had to work, would they not?”

  14

  “Have you read this rubbish from Miss Crimson? Her veneration of that fraud, Polinsky?” Jude shook his copy of the Inquirer at her. “I’d like to know who among those ladies at Mrs. Golding’s writes this column! Or from whom Miss Crimson received her information and such an—an overdone drawing of him!”

  Maria took the newspaper as she gestured toward the parlor, hoping her expression didn’t reveal too much. She glanced at the column, considering her response to this man who knew every inch of her body as well as what was on her mind…most of the time. “That’s the sketch from those playbills we found outside Lord Fenwick’s,” she remarked. “Polinsky has probably posted them all over London. And from the way Miss Crimson presents these tidbits, she might’ve received the information from an informant. She couldn’t possibly attend all the events that provide fodder for her column. When would she have time to write?”

  She felt like a mother explaining Saint Nicholas to her young, inquisitive child. She had purposely written her column as though a reader had dished up such tasty gossip, right after Meriweather’s tea. And as she wrote it, she’d wondered if she was doing her brother Rubio a disservice…yet it seemed a good way to flush out more information about Jason—and to keep Yosef Polinsky in the public eye, where everyone could see him.

  “Jude, it’s not like you to become so upset over everyday events,” she ventured, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. “What bothers you about—”

  “Bothers me?” he repeated archly. “It bothers me that this imposter is getting so much attention, when your brother Rubio is the superior medium! As if seeing spirits weren’t enough, Polinsky was tricking the jewelry off those ladies!”

  Maria considered this. “Rubio sees spirit images, as well. He doesn’t tout himself as a magician, however—which, to me, covers such parlor tricks as making jewelry appear in his pocket. What I found amazing was how smoothly Polinsky did it! I was watching him with the intent to catch him at such shenanigans, and I couldn’t.”

  “He’s still a sham! And you’ll not convince me that he knows anything of Jason, either.” Jude exhaled, looking away in his anger. “He’s just baiting you and playing upon Mum’s sympathies! And he had the nerve to entice her into his web as well!”

  Frowning, Maria placed her hand on his shoulder. “Why do you say that, Jude? He made every woman in the room feel special—and now every one of them wants him as her houseguest, too!”

  With a disgusted sigh, he reached into his suit coat pocket and gave her a small envelope. “Here! Mum was scratching these out at her desk late last night. I don’t know what it is, but Jemma acted as skittish as a new foal this morning, so something is afoot!”

  Maria’s pulse sped up: the small envelope containe
d a note card embossed with the initials DD—a reminder that somehow Polinsky had known Lady Darington’s initials should be PD instead. “It’s an invitation to tea at Wildwood, at week’s end. And Polinksy is billed as the guest of honor!”

  “Sweet Jesus, does the excitement never end?”

  Quentin appeared in the doorway then, bowing slightly. “Good morning, sir! Shall I bring the two of you any refreshment, milady? Perhaps a cup of chocolate, from the fresh supply Mrs. Booth has just acquired?”

  “Excellent idea, Quentin! Something to soothe Jude’s frazzled nerves.”

  “Frazzled? And yours are not?” Jude demanded. “I should think Miss Crimson’s glowing account of Polinsky’s trickery denigrates genuine mediums like your brother, as well!”

  “Guilt by association?” Maria cocked her head slightly, again reading the invitation from Dora Darington. “Then it would seem your mother’s tea provides you the perfect opportunity for calling him out, doesn’t it? And if you want a real circus, have your mother invite Rubio, as well.”

  “Do you think he’d come?”

  “Probably not.” When Maria heard the eagerness in his voice, she wished she hadn’t suggested this idea. “Rubio won’t admit he has any competition. Nor does he dignify other mediums’ challenges to produce apports, raps on the table, or other such signs to enthrall an audience. He stands on his integrity, and on the unwavering faith his clients have in him.”

  “Ah. Unwavering faith.” Jude stuck his hands in his pockets and went to the window. “I suppose that’s the real reason I feel so agitated by this whole affair. While it was rude of me to listen from the other room—or from right outside the music room door, when things sounded a bit too interesting—it was my mother’s expression that sounded the warning bell.”

  “How so, dear Jude? Every woman in the room fell prey to Polinsky’s charisma.”

  Jude smiled ruefully. “Yes, but those others weren’t my mother. While she’s a beautiful woman, admired by every man who meets her, I’ve never seen her respond like…like a young girl who’s fallen head over heels. The way you gaze at Jason, when you think I don’t notice.”

  Maria bit back a protest. It was inevitable, in a three-sided arrangement like theirs, that one man might feel slighted, or less loved.

  But that wasn’t the matter at hand, was it? Dora—Pandora—Darington had indeed appeared lovestruck, even at that first encounter with Polinsky at Lord Fenwick’s. Was she hostessing this tea as another opportunity to bask in the magician’s attention? Risking her husband’s wrath for a few moments of intense eye contact…perhaps the chance to slip into one of Wildwood’s secluded nooks for a more intimate rendezvous?

  Given the chance, wouldn’t most women behave that way? Or had her own brazen behavior with the twins blurred her definition of social acceptability?

  “I’m sorry, Maria. I’ve been whining about my own concerns, forgetting that you bear a far heavier burden,” he said with a sigh. “And in my haste to show you Miss Crimson’s column, I’ve forgotten the item I came to deliver.”

  As the front door closed behind him, Quentin entered the parlor bearing a silver tray laden with fresh cakes and a fragrant pot of chocolate. He glanced outside, where Jude was reaching into the open carriage. “Is everything all right, Miss Palladino? Mr. Darington seems out of sorts today.”

  “He’ll be fine.” She flashed the butler a conspiratorial grin. “I think I’ve managed to misdirect him about the source of Miss Crimson’s material—and we’ve received an invitation to a potentially fascinating afternoon at Wildwood.”

  “We, Miss Palladino?”

  Maria poured two cups of the thick, sweet-smelling chocolate, grinning. “I’ll need a driver, won’t I? And from what I saw at Mrs. Golding’s, Jemma will be in fine fettle…perhaps competing against her mother for Polinsky’s favor. How might an enterprising man like yourself work this to his own advantage, Quentin?”

  His sly smile made his sideburns curve rakishly. “Thank you for giving me time to consider the possibilities. To anticipate my…pursuit of Miss Darington’s fancy.” He glanced out the window and then resumed his more proper demeanor. “Your chocolate and cakes, Miss Palladino. Will there be anything else?”

  “I think not, Quentin. Please thank Mrs. Booth for this lovely assortment of treats.” She dismissed the butler with a proprietary nod as Jude entered the parlor, carrying a large, flat rectangular package. “And what might this be, Jude?”

  He set the item on the hearth so it would lean against the mantel. “I thought it best to bring your portrait here, hoping you might enjoy it in the privacy of your room.”

  “And to prevent your mother and sister from seeing it?” Maria gauged his reaction as she tore at the brown paper wrapping.

  “You heard Mum’s remark about my little hobbies,” he muttered. “And because she’s invited her friends this weekend, I didn’t want my gift to cause…undue discussion about your postponed wedding, Maria. Those gossips’ tongues might chop your heart into mincemeat. And Lord only knows what tricks Polinsky might devise, were he to see this.”

  Maria fought a wicked giggle. She wouldn’t intentionally create more conflict for Jude, in a family that insisted he was inferior to his twin, yet she loved to play the devil’s advocate.

  “Thank you again for this beautiful likeness.” She sighed at the love light that shone in her eyes as she sat so proudly in the most exquisite gown she’d ever worn. The portrait was a testimony to the hopes and dreams she’d hung on Jason Darington, mere moments before she learned he’d disappeared. “I’ll hang it in the front hall, Jude. Your father has declared this town house my home, so your portrait shall announce my position as its mistress! Just as it shall remind me of the man I am to marry…and the man who has portrayed me so lovingly as well.”

  Jude gaped. “You know how Mum will protest, when she comes to visit—”

  “And must admit your photographic talent is more than a little hobby? That’s how everyone else will see it, you know.” Maria held his gaze and then approached the speaking tubes on the wall by the doorway. “Quentin! Will you please come to assist us with—”

  “Yes, Miss Palladino?” As she’d suspected, the butler had been lingering in the alcove down the hall. He entered the parlor with a careful smile on his face, nodding at each of them.

  “I’ve decided to replace that fox-and-hounds scene in the vestibule with—”

  “What an incredible likeness! Even if I’d never met you, I’d say you were the most beautiful—the happiest—woman in the world.” Quentin gazed at the photograph in utter awe. “And you created this portrait with your camera, Jude?”

  “Well, yes, I—” He fought a grin, at a loss for a response. “With a wash of paint here and there, to render the likeness more like Maria herself, I—”

  “It’s nothing short of extraordinary, sir! Miss Palladino looks ready to speak to us!”

  “See?” Maria grinned pointedly at the man who so closely resembled her Jason. And once again she wished her fiancé were here, as her husband. “You should never hide your light under that proverbial basket, Jude! High time you brought this out of your darkroom so I can display it with the honored placement it deserves!”

  “Rightly so!” Quentin chimed in on his way out. “I shall fetch the ladder and hang it at once, milady. That gilt frame and those lovely pastels will brighten the entire hall!”

  Jude appeared flummoxed yet gratified. “Maria, please! You don’t have to put this where everyone will—it was intended as a private gift to you—”

  “Which, if your mother or Jemma stumbled upon it unaware, would only confirm their suspicions about us.” Now that they were alone, she gripped his shoulders, her heart overflowing. “And if you won’t stand up for your God-given gifts, Jude, it’s up to me to trumpet your abilities. Your worth, to a family who doesn’t appreciate you the way I do.”

  He let out his breath slowly, as though trying to believe what she’d said.
“Thank you, my love,” he murmured, and then quickly kissed her. “What would I do without you?”

  Maria shrugged. “And what would I do without you? Now—it seems to me we should be looking toward your mother’s tea and making our plans, don’t you think? While Mr. Polinsky’s presence agitates you, you’ve been given the perfect opportunity to foil him. On your own turf! What shall we do about that, Jude?”

  15

  Arrayed in one of the new day dresses from her trousseau, Maria paused beside the carriage in Wildwood’s semicircular drive. “You’re on your own, Quentin. Jemma and I have never been close, so I’ll not cozy up to her and raise suspicions.”

  “Rightly so, Miss Palladino. I’m sure you’ll have your own fish to fry, so to speak.”

  “Let’s hope we don’t all get burned today,” she replied with a mirthless laugh. “Lady Darington and Jemma are sure to keep things…at a brisk boil. And there she stands, already lighting the fire.”

  Quentin followed her nod to where linen-draped tables were set about the side lawn and garden, beneath canopies. Lady Darington greeted her guests as they waited in line, while beside her Jemma waved Willie’s paw and spoke to them in a childish—or was it a ferretish?—voice. The animal wore a little suit coat made from the green print faille of its mistress’s new gown.

  “I can’t believe—tell me that’s not Jason’s sister behaving like a five-year-old!” Maria muttered.

  Quentin chuckled. “Well, it’s nice to see Miss Darington favors little…pets. I shall keep that in mind.”

  Maria nodded to another cluster of guests as they made their way toward the garden. “Yes, Willie made quite an impression when he got loose at the wedding,” she whispered. “Ducked under some poor woman’s skirts, judging from the screeches in the sanctuary. Do you suppose she’ll…come today?”

  Quentin laughed raucously and had to compose himself when Lady Darington glanced their way. “They say impressive willies have that effect on the ladies, yes. Shall I park the carriage and then escort you?”