by Susanne Lord
If only Mr. Repton were not here every day.
No. No. If only his attractions had not attacked her like a fever. From the first sight, she was afflicted by his beauty. And every day, the sight of him allowed no recovery.
It was the worst possible malady—to be in lust with the unfeeling man.
With a mildly depressed sigh, she pushed to her feet and proceeded downstairs to meet the viscount.
“Hello, Hugh.” His tulips were lovely, even if they weren’t white, and she warmed at the sight of the caramels on the table. That really was Hugh’s loveliest gesture. Jacob adored his sweets.
Deep male voices rumbled in the study and she closed her ears to comprehension. She smiled at her guest. “Hugh, you needn’t always bring me such lovely gifts.”
“You cannot deny me the pleasure of choosing the lucky blooms that will bask in the sun of your smile.”
She laughed as Hugh made an extravagant bow. But when he straightened, his eyes caught on something behind her. Puzzled, she turned her head.
Through the open door of the study, Mr. Repton stood leaning against the desk, watching them. His gaze raked her before he turned his attention back to Ben.
Why must he always look so disapproving of her diversions? And worse, of her dress? If she tried, she might find fault with all manner of his appearance, too.
Well…not today perhaps, as he looked rather handsome in those buff trousers. But a gentleman might have kept his coat on instead of displaying his…admittedly wonderful shoulders in that navy waistcoat.
He dressed rather well of late, not that there was any mystery in that. Wally had shared his tailors with the man. Odd how friendly they were for men with so little common ground.
Hugh raised a wry brow. “I should pay my respects to your brother.”
“Oh, that is not necessary.”
But Hugh was already entering the study. “How are you, Mr. Paxton? I have come to take this delightful girl on a ride to the Heath. The weather being fine, I could not resist the journey with such a charming companion.”
“Yes, you’ll not get finer weather,” Ben said.
Mr. Repton harrumphed, the small sound infused with disagreement and surprise.
Which was no surprise at all to her.
“What’s that, Will?” Ben asked.
“Oh, nothing.” But then he shrugged those muscled shoulders. “Just that I saw clouds to the north. I would cover yourself, Miss Baker.”
Charlotte looked out the window to a blindingly sunny day.
Mr. Repton frowned at her chest. “A cloak would serve best, actually.”
She looked down at her dress. A cloak would utterly ruin the effect.
“Will’s right, Charlotte,” Ben said. “Tell Patty to bring one for herself, too.”
Patty? “But Ben—” He raised a quelling brow. “Yes, of course,” she mumbled, feeling like a child.
Was it too much to hope to go out without a chaperone? She was two-and-twenty. And many ladies went out driving with their beaux. And their destination was Hampstead Heath, not Gin Lane.
Abashed, she angled a glance at Mr. Repton, who was reading the newspaper as if she were no longer in the room.
She turned to the footman. “Please ask Patty to prepare herself for an outing.”
“With cloaks,” Ben added.
Will coughed, but when she shot him a suspicious glance, he was nose-deep in his paper.
She mustn’t pay any mind to Mr. Repton. The man only spoke to warn her and Hugh against showers and the cold on impossibly beautiful days such as this. I should wear a hood, Miss Baker. Do you not possess an overcoat, Miss Baker? Do you think it wise to wear that dress, Miss Baker?
“I do have a gingham in the coach, of course,” Hugh said.
Mr. Repton frowned at his reading, lowered his paper, and rubbed his eyes.
They were deeply shadowed today and rimmed red with sleeplessness, so evident in contrast with his blue eyes. How often had she peeked into the study to see him bent low over his papers, as if the weight of his head couldn’t be borne by his neck? The man must not sleep well—
He angled from her study and raised his paper higher.
Stuffing her sympathy, she started for the door but something upon Ben’s table caught her eye. A small brass statuette of a man and woman, closely facing each other, stood dead center. It appeared Asian.
Oh! Another artifact!
Mr. Repton had brought many to share with the family since his return, and those were her favorite moments because he shared them with her, too.
Or, at least, he did not object when she listened.
But he would have already explained the statue to Ben. He would not like to repeat himself.
Disappointed, she still sidled to the table for a closer look.
The statuette was unlike anything she had ever seen. The male figure had three faces and many outstretched arms, but they embraced a female figure whose leg wrapped around him. The expressions they wore were serene and smiling, as if they were in love.
Every one of the statue’s hands held something different—not that she understood what they were. And they stood on some sort of animal. And there were flames radiating from their heads.
She clasped her hands before she touched.
She would not ask. She wouldn’t.
Turning from the table, she caught Mr. Repton watching her over the top of his newspaper and she looked away quickly.
“Is this some sort of idol from China, Mr. Repton?” Hugh asked, her delay drawing him to the table.
Her head shot up. Oh! Oh good! She flashed a grateful smile at Hugh.
“It’s Tibetan.” Mr. Repton set the paper down and, to her surprise, moved to stand beside her.
Whenever he presented his treasures, she liked to pretend Mr. Repton spoke to her alone. And positioned as he was, her fantasy was nearly complete. With his back to Hugh, he pulled the statue close so she might better see.
“The crate arrived only yesterday,” he murmured. “I’d almost forgotten what I’d shipped.”
Because no one asked in the space of a second, she blurted, “Who are they, Mr. Repton?”
“They’re Buddhist gods named Hevajra and Nairatmya.” He lowered his voice and the timbre sent little prickles to her toes. “They are Tantric deities. In Tibetan Buddhism, this union of male and female symbolizes the union of wisdom and compassion, so they are often shown in this sort of sexual embrace.”
Was he serious? She swung about to check his intelligence, but he was looking somewhere in the vicinity of her dropped jaw. She bent to examine the statue closer. A sexual embrace…?
Hugh scoffed. “Are you saying they’re engaged in—?”
“But I can’t see!” She squinted to see between the two brass-clad bodies. “And which is ‘wisdom’ and which ‘compassion,’ Mr. Repton?”
She caught a smile flickering on his lips. Amazed at the sight, she could only murmur, “They’re lovely—”
“They’re obscene.” Hugh laughed loudly.
Her mind blanked at the discourtesy. She looked to Mr. Repton, wanting to apologize for Hugh’s behavior if only with her gaze, and he must have felt her focus, for his eyes shifted to hers.
And what she saw burning in their depths made everyone and everything else fade into thin air.
“Here is your girl, Charlotte.” Hugh made for the door.
Patty emerged from belowstairs, an eager smile on her lips, so Charlotte smoothed her expression, serene as Hevajra. “Yes…thank you, Patty. We are driving to the Heath.” She drew on her gloves.
“Capital.” Hugh drew up. “Ah, I nearly forgot my father’s missive.” He retrieved an envelope from his pocket and handed it to Mr. Repton. “The earl has invited you to a dinner and dance Friday next, Mr. Repton. You will be among friends, as the Paxtons have accepted.”
Mr. Repton accepted the invitation as if it were covered in horse leavings, but, true to form, denied them the satisfaction of
an instant reply.
“You must accept, of course.” Hugh’s voice was tinged with impatience. “Father desires to know you. I should not bring that heathen idol, though.” He chuckled. “And there’ll be diversions besides dancing. Cards and such. But if that does not tempt you, at the least, you will see what a fine dancer Miss Baker is.”
Charlotte colored, piqued at Hugh’s continuing obtuseness. “I am sure that is little incentive to anyone.” Come, Mr. Repton. Refuse and we will be on our way.
“I’d be happy to attend.” Mr. Repton returned her astonished stare with a trace of challenge in his own.
Flustered, Charlotte groped blindly for Hugh’s arm. “Shall we, Hugh?” He didn’t move, but stared rather intently at Mr. Repton. “Hugh?”
“Hm? Oh yes, capital.” Hugh bowed his farewell. “Good day, gentlemen.”
She made for the door.
“Miss Baker.”
Charlotte swung around. Mr. Repton had never called to her before. Yet now he looked as baffled as she that he had.
“Another caution, Mr. Repton?” Hugh asked. “You needn’t worry. I’ll keep Miss Baker warm.”
Mr. Repton’s eyes flickered over hers in the instant before his face turned to stone.
It was too fast an exchange for her to understand, but then…that is how Mr. Repton always looked at her. The instant their eyes met, he would look away.
And she was left feeling as if something had been torn from her.
“It’s nothing.” Mr. Repton turned his back on them.
Her heart sank. What did he mean to say?
“Come, Charlotte,” Hugh said.
Ignoring Hugh, she hurried after Mr. Repton and touched his elbow. He turned, his eyes wide with surprise.
“Tell me,” she whispered. “The statues. Which is ‘wisdom’ and which ‘compassion,’ Mr. Repton?”
His eyes warmed, and he dipped his head to speak low in her ear. “The female is wisdom,” he murmured, adding a small grin. “I thought you might have guessed.”
Their eyes locked and held. And she wanted to weep from the sweetness of the moment. She nodded, smiling.
She turned and swept out of the room without another word.
But not before collecting her cloak from the foyer table.
Five
Will folded his new coat and set it over a chair in Ben’s study. The black fabric, a merino wool-silk blend, was light and soft and the finest garment he owned. The finest he’d ever own, likely. And hadn’t the tailoring cost him?
But that’s what Wallace recommended, so that’s what Will bought. He wasn’t about to appear at Spencer’s ball, in front of Charlotte, in the same suit he wore nearly every day.
He crossed to the window, wanting distance from the coat, from the whole night to come. Evenings like this weren’t natural. Dress balls and long dinners and conversations with men who could buy and sell him ten times over weren’t natural.
But that was later. More pressing matters were at hand.
Outside, the pavement was empty. Will checked his timepiece. Seth Mayhew was late. Not very, but left alone as he was, Will noticed. The household was upstairs preparing for the ball. Even Jacob had abandoned him, and tonight Will had an errand for him—one he was eager to dispatch before the ladies came down.
Charlotte in a ball gown…he’d never seen that.
He pivoted on his heel and made for the whiskey Wallace had poured him earlier, taking a long, reckless swallow.
Six minutes past.
Would Mayhew help him? They’d never met, but as a fellow plant hunter, might he agree?
The butler appeared at the door. “Mr. Mayhew has arrived, sir.”
“Thank you.” Will shook out his clenched fists and followed the butler, not wanting to appear as if the servant were his. Mayhew knew Ben had volunteered his conveniently located home for their meeting, but Will felt presumptuous enough without appropriating the servants.
The man in the hall crowded the entry. Seth Mayhew—South American explorer. Or conqueror. Anyone might assume the latter. The man was colossal, broad and imposing as a three-masted Blackwall frigate.
Expeditions weakened most men.
“Mr. Mayhew, I’m Will.” Will’s hand was gripped and pumped hard.
“Call me Seth.” The voice boomed in the hall, seeming to sail with the force of a westerly wind. His eyes were sea green and the skin at the corners creased from squinting in the sun. Even his hair was tied back in a queue.
Here was Jacob’s pirate.
Will corralled his thoughts and gestured Seth into the study. “Thank you for coming. Ben Paxton is dressing for a dinner.”
“Life of the gentry, eh?” Seth grinned, his eyes sweeping Will’s evening kit. “You look a fair bit like Quality yourself.”
“I’m only invited because I’m a friend of the family. How was your sail?”
“Stupendous. We didn’t shipwreck and we didn’t sink.”
Will nodded. That really was the only answer to that question. “You were seeking medicinal plants, I understand.”
“Among other things.” Seth pointed at Will’s waistcoat. “Where’d you have that done up?”
Will looked down at his chest. “What?”
Seth’s gaze swept the room until his eyes landed on the coat. The burly explorer sprang to his feet and took up Will’s pricey garment, holding it at arm’s length to inspect it.
“Damn, look at that.” Seth’s mighty voice was subdued with admiration. “Can’t even see the stitches.” Seth held the coat toward him. “Would you put it on?”
Will blinked, but pushed to his feet. He wasn’t about to deny the man anything. “Certainly.”
“I know it ain’t fitting to ask, but you’re like me in the shoulders and—see! That looks fine, damn fine. My tailor said I’m not built to wear a suit like that.” Seth slapped at his own frock coat with a sneer of disgust. “Said this is the best he could do.”
“I’d say that’s a sorry excuse. You look well-proportioned to me.” Will shook his head. Why the hell were they talking tailors? “I’ll, uh…I’ll give you the shop’s direction.” Will cut off a strip of foolscap and wrote down the information.
“Obliged.” Seth took a seat, his grin back in place. A question flickered over his face. “Ay? What was you asking before?”
For your help. “Brazil,” he said smoothly. “You were hunting medicinal plants, among other things.”
“Right. Hardwoods, too. But any ornamentals I found were mine.”
“That black orchid with the coral lip you discovered…that’s a stunner.”
Seth’s grin widened. “They named her Catasetum phantasma. It means ‘ghost orchid.’” He leaned forward. “I’m up to my waist in the Rio Gurupi, water like liquid copper so you can’t see to know what’s swimming between your legs—and there she was. Like a fairy peeking from the moss of a tree. On the ship, I damn near slept with that Wardian case in my arms.”
The man was a true plant hunter. It wouldn’t occur to him to mention the bit about the orchid selling at auction for a thousand pounds. The money would always be incidental to the prize.
Will had been like that once. Cressey, too.
But it would never be that way again.
Will started cautiously. “Much as I’m curious about your work, I had a purpose in asking to meet today.” He paused. “You know what happened in Tibet?”
“I do. Bloody horrible business.”
“A relation is offering twenty thousand pounds for the return of the infant.”
Seth’s eyes widened. “I thought—”
“There’s a chance she survived.” Will leveled his gaze. “I want you to send word to George.”
“Send word to George?” Like a sea change, Seth’s eyes darkened. But that same slow grin stretched across his lips. “George ain’t crossing into Tibet.”
“Christ, no. I’m not asking—” Will held up a staying hand, a tremor in his fingers. He wanted Seth�
��s help. Desperately, he realized now. But the man wasn’t all easy affability, as he seemed. At least not where his family was concerned.
“I need George to spread the news,” Will said. “And send word back. I’ve sent letters throughout Asia. No one’s replied.”
Seth’s glare eased. “No one, eh?”
Will shook his head.
Seth crossed his arms. “Not sure I can reach George anymore. My last letter was addressed poste restante to the Canton post office and never collected. They were supposed to hold it two months…” He cleared his throat. “They held it four. George said Canton, but you know…expeditions don’t hold to no schedules. But I’m sending a letter on the next mail steamer. One to Hong Kong, too.” He hesitated. “I suppose I can add your news.”
“Thank you. Believe me, I’d never encourage George to—”
“Encourage or not, George won’t be told anything.”
Seth’s eyes clouded with regret. No matter the man’s grinning mask, he and Seth were the same. Men who left home and didn’t marry and told themselves the months, the years, spent searching for what didn’t exist yet mattered.
Men who weren’t afraid of the usual things. Even the right things.
Maybe they just feared different things.
The door cracked open and Jacob, dressed in his sailor suit, peeked in.
“Jacob, come here,” Will called.
The boy stopped in his tracks at the sight of Seth, who crossed his arms across his massive chest and winked. “Ahoy there, lad.”
“Jacob, this is Mr. Mayhew.” Will moved to where he’d set his parcels. “Can you help me with a task?”
Jacob hurried to follow him. “I can do it, Mr. Repton.”
After giving Jacob his instructions and setting him off, Will turned back to a grinning Seth.
“So you’re courting Paxton’s sister-in-law?” Seth asked.
“No!” Will frowned at the brew of emotions the question stirred. “Why?”
Seth hiked a thumb at the door. “You sending the lad upstairs with those.”
“I’m a friend of the family.”
“Mind your step there, or you’ll be a friend in the family.” Seth chuckled. But interest lit in his eye. “Is she pretty?”
