Touch of Desire

by Susan Spencer Paul

  “Your modesty is refreshing,” he told her, “but I wasn’t making a pretty speech. Despite our differences regarding your work, I find you to be a nearly ideal companion. You’re intelligent, witty, beautiful to gaze upon—”

  “My lord,” she said, blushing hotly.

  “—and, most important, you have no fear of magic. More than that, the spirits who oversee my kind have clearly found you to be a suitable conduit for their communications. I truly doubt I could find another such woman in all of England whose company would be more pleasant.”

  “Your mistress, perhaps,” Sarah suggested, then immediately wished she hadn’t, for his expression, which had been open and relaxed, instantly shuttered. “Forgive me,” she said at once. “That was inexcusably rude.”

  “Yes,” he agreed coolly. “It was. I certainly don’t compare you to Lady Whiteley, or any other woman of my acquaintance.”

  She had truly offended him, Sarah realized, and was deeply chagrined.

  “I am sorry, my lord.” Reaching out, she touched his gloved hand. “Please pretend that I never said such a stupid thing. My unruly tongue, just as my mother warned you.”

  His gaze had fixed upon her hand. She made to pull it away, but his fingers curled about her own, stopping her.

  “It’s forgotten,” he said, lifting his eyes to hers. “But there is still the matter of your disbelief in my sincerity, Miss Tamony. Perhaps you might be assuaged if you consider that our charade might be of use to you, apart from witnessing the advent of the cythraul.”

  “Of use to me?” she repeated faintly, very aware of how strong and warm his fingers were as they pressed against her own. “In what way?”

  He rubbed a thumb lightly over the back of her hand. “I’m a powerful man, Miss Tamony, with powerful connections.”

  “I know that well enough, my lord. You’ve done a splendid job of using that power to stop all my interviews.”

  “True,” he admitted with a nod, “but I can also use it to open doors for you, if you wish. Not in the way of interviews, but to other supernatural interests. There are numerous private collections in Town—my own among them—that few mere mortal eyes have seen. And I can arrange personal viewings for you at various museums, during hours when the curiosity of the public won’t act as an impediment. We can speak freely when alone. I can relate histories to you that don’t involve magic mortals, but which I daresay will fascinate you, nonetheless. There are a great many things you know about magic, but likely just as many that you don’t.”

  Sarah felt as if she suddenly couldn’t breathe. “You would take me to Mervaille?”

  “Perhaps,” he murmured. “In time. There are any number of fascinating objects there that you would find interesting. But there are other places I can take you, as well.” He bent his head nearer and lowered his voice. “What is it that you truly wish to see and do in London, Miss Tamony? Is it poetry readings and card parties?” He nodded toward the gathering indoors. “Or the opera and ballet? The theater? What of lectures on the supernatural? You cannot enter half the halls in London on account of being a woman, but I can disguise you so that no one, save myself, would see you as anything other than a man. Or at all, if I chose to make you invisible. You could attend the highest scholarly functions that your sex has always kept you from and no one would be the wiser.”

  Sarah’s heart beat painfully in her chest. Everything he said, every word he spoke, were the things she had dreamed of.

  “Don’t tease me, my lord,” she murmured. “It would be too cruel.”

  “You’re going to help me with the cythraul, Miss Tamony. I wish to make the effort worth your while. I mean precisely what I say. Put me to the test and see.”

  “My father’s going to speak at the Antiquities Society on Monday. Could you make it possible for me to attend?”

  “Easily,” he said. “I had planned to go, myself. I shall take you and make you—which would you prefer? To be a man, or to be invisible?”

  “Oh, invisible, please,” she said, laughing with delight. “I’ve already spent far too much time dressed in boys’ clothing to care for that. But to be invisible!” She felt giddy. “It would be as wonderful as flying.”

  “It’s settled, then. Apart from your father’s lecture, are there not other, more usual places you would wish to go? I realize you’ve traveled the world and seen a great deal, but surely you’ve a preference in amusements. We must be seen in company, recall. I don’t wish to bore you.”

  Sarah eyed him consideringly. “I suppose,” she said, “that you have your own box at the theater, my lord?”

  He smiled. “Yes, Miss Tamony. With an excellent view of the stage. Do you suppose if I speak to Lady Tamony your family might accept an invitation to join me there in the near future?”

  “Indeed I do, my lord,” she replied. “In fact, I believe I could assure you of it.”

  Malachi had never enjoyed himself during a London Season as he did now. When he woke each day it was not to lie in bed and consider with resignation the duties that lay before him, though they certainly remained, Parliament foremost among them. But he knew that at some point during the day or coming night he would be seeing Sarah, and even if the event lasted but a few minutes, it was enough to fill him with anticipation.

  She made him smile and laugh with her infectious sense of humor, but she also had the gift of serious well-reasoned conversation that readily complimented his own. They often spoke of magic but just as often discussed history, philosophy, and politics. She was interested in the Prison Reform Act, which gratified Malachi no end. The only other person apart from fellow members of Parliament who wished to discuss the matter with him was Niclas, and though Malachi loved his cousin dearly, it was a far more enchanting experience to sit beside a green-eyed, red-haired, bespectacled beauty possessed of a curvaceous figure that made Malachi’s mouth dry and who smelled faintly of lily of the valley discussing any and every topic under the sun.

  He discovered something new about Sarah each time they were together. When he invited Julius Tamony to go riding in the park one morning, Sarah came along, demonstrating a proficiency at horsemanship that had surprised him. Though why it had, Malachi couldn’t guess. Her nature was competitive; he should have known that she would strive to excel at anything she set her hand to.

  She was also capable of handling a carriage, which she proved on two occasions when they’d gone driving. On the first of these, the day following their attendance at the Antiquities Society, they had come across his cousin Julia, who was enjoying her daily drive in the pretty high-perch phaeton Niclas had bought her. It was her favorite time of day, Malachi knew, for it was the only hour she had to herself. Julia was delighted to make Sarah’s acquaintance but clearly baffled at seeing Malachi in company with the authoress. Niclas appeared at Mervaille some hours later to demand an explanation.

  “I cannot explain my actions to you,” Malachi told him, “for I don’t understand them myself. When I do, you’ll be the first to know.”

  Niclas had not been amused, but it was often thus. Some Seymours lacked a sense of humor. Some had far too much of it.

  “You asked Julia to arrange a chance meeting with Mrs. Speakley because she’s Sarah Tamony’s aunt, didn’t you?”

  “Yes,” Malachi admitted.

  Niclas began to pace. “Since then, from what I’ve been able to gather, you’ve been in company either with Miss Tamony alone or with her family as well. It’s also become evident that the presence of Sarah Tamony was your reason for having accepted Mrs. Silverby’s invitation.”

  “I’m afraid that’s true.”

  Niclas stopped pacing and stared at him. “You’ve gone out riding with both Miss Tamony and her brother,” he said, “and invited the Tamonys to your box at the theater—”

  “I expected that you’d hear of that particular event and come to speak to me far sooner,” Malachi said. “You’ve no idea how people stare at the famous Miss Tamony. And whisper
behind their hands. It’s quite distracting.”

  Niclas ignored this. “Yesterday you attended Sir Alberic’s speech at the Antiquities Society,” he continued, “and today you took Miss Tamony driving in the park. Alone.”

  Malachi held his hands out wide. “All true,” he confessed.

  “Tell me why,” Niclas demanded. “After everything I went through to put the fear of God into Miss Tamony, after all of the letters I wrote, after endlessly listening to you rant about how dangerous Miss Tamony’s works are—”

  “I did not rant,” Malachi countered with faint insult.

  “Endlessly,” Niclas insisted. “All the time I was at Glain Tarran, when I did my utmost to get you to simply speak to the woman—and now!” He threw his hands up. “Behind my back, almost, you not only speak to her, you’re with her every moment—”

  “Now you’re becoming irrational, cfender,” Malachi said. “I am not with her every moment. That would be impossible until we’ve wed.”

  “What!”

  “I meant to say ‘unless,’ ” Malachi said quickly. “Unless we were wed. Niclas, please sit down. I’m sorry that I haven’t taken you into my confidence before now, especially as I’ve always been able to trust you so completely.”

  “Then tell me what’s happened.”

  Malachi did, beginning with Sarah Tamony’s intrusion at Glain Tarran and the magic that appeared to protect her. He related the facts of how she’d come to have the Donballa, of how the Guardians had used her journal to communicate the clue regarding the cythraul. He said nothing of the intense desire he felt for her, but Niclas must have heard it in his voice.

  “Malachi Seymour,” he said with wonder when Malachi had finished speaking. “You’ve fallen in love. After all these years. And with Sarah Tamony, of all women.”

  “I don’t know that it’s love,” Malachi told him honestly. “I don’t know what it is at all, save some kind of madness. But, God help me, if this charade of courtship should lead to a permanent union, I cannot say that I’d be displeased.”

  Niclas’s fury had faded, to be replaced with wonderment.

  “It must be love. You not only took her flying; you made her invisible—at the Antiquities Society. Nothing but love could have made you so incautious.” He considered the matter for a moment. “Are you unoliaeth with Miss Tamony? Can it be?”

  “I don’t know,” Malachi said. “Such a union was never foretold for me, just as yours with Julia was not. But the ways of the Guardians are peculiar. It would be a fine jest to bind me to a woman whose writings will be the end of us all.”

  “But if you wed her,” Niclas said thoughtfully, “you would have the power to control what she writes. She would be your wife, and as her husband you could stop the publication of her work.”

  Malachi gave him a surprised look. “I don’t recall Julia bending to your wishes when she doesn’t desire to. But that’s neither here nor there. Miss Tamony has agreed to put aside writing her book until the cythraul has been dealt with. I shall set my mind to the matter then.”

  “And until then?”

  “I intend to make Society believe I’m courting Sarah Tamony, and keep her near in case the Guardians should give her another clue.”

  Niclas sighed. “You had best let us help you, then,” he said. “Julia will be invaluable as a chaperone and in gaining helpful introductions, quite apart from the fact that she adores Miss Tamony’s writings and will never forgive you if you keep her to yourself. And I can lend a hand with the parents and brother and even the little cousin, if necessary.”

  Malachi smiled at him warmly. “That is good of you, cfender. I’d be grateful for your excellent help. I don’t suppose you might work up the courage to attend Almack’s on the morrow and help me keep the wolves at bay? Between the father and brother and the two of us, we might contrive to keep the Tamony ladies dancing much of the night.”

  “God help us all,” Niclas murmured, gazing at him with a knowing smile. “You’re already jealous of other men paying court to the famous authoress. Only tell me, Cousin, if the stories I’ve heard of her beauty are true?”

  “They are,” Malachi said. “But you’ll see for yourself tomorrow night.”

  And he did.

  Sarah had never been to Almack’s assembly rooms before. Her parents had tried to obtain tickets for them when they’d briefly visited London ten years earlier, only to be denied. Apparently the patron ladies who oversaw the assembly rooms didn’t read Sir Alberic’s works and had been put off by the incessant amount of traveling the Tamonys undertook. Now, however, they were all eagerness to allow the family into Almack’s sacred halls. Her parents, brother, and cousin believed it was due to Sarah’s fame; Sarah believed otherwise.

  “You forced them to let us in, didn’t you?” she whispered to the Earl of Graymar, who, having finished greeting her family, had taken her on his arm to parade her about the room and introduce her to his particular friends. Every eye in Almack’s was upon them as they made their way, and audible whispers accompanied their progress.

  “I would have done so,” he replied in soft tones, smiling and nodding at acquaintances as they passed, “if it had been necessary. I hardly need tell you that your fame has made both you and your family desirable guests.”

  “You sound truly jealous, my lord,” she murmured with a smile. “You are not often cast into the shade, I believe, being so notorious a figure.”

  “My cousin Niclas tells me that it’s good for my soul,” he said. “He believes I’m too conceited.”

  “You?” she remarked with feigned disbelief. “Because you are handsome, powerful, and wealthy? I don’t know how he could ever have come to think such a thing.”

  “I’m sure he’ll be glad to tell you,” Malachi said, “for here is my cousin and his good lady Julia now.”

  Meeting Niclas Seymour was an unexpected pleasure. He was different from his powerful cousin in every way, different, in fact, from most Seymours. He was much taller and more muscular than the Seymours who’d inherited elvish blood and far more serious in nature. He was known to be a man possessed of a great intellect, skillful in debate, and a devotee of philosophical discussion. He was also a practiced gentleman who knew how to put others at ease—especially mere mortals. He charmed Lady Tamony by speaking to her as an equal, made fast friends with Sir Alberic and Julius by speaking to them as fellow intellectuals, and caused Philistia to blush and giggle by speaking to her as an admirer. He was so handsome that Sarah could scarce blame her cousin; she nearly blushed and giggled, too. His wife, Julia, was a fitting mate for such a man. Equal in beauty, she matched him in intellect and poise.

  “Don’t let my husband fool you, Miss Tamony,” Julia murmured when the two men briefly excused themselves. “He’s just as upended as I am to meet you. We adore your writing.”

  “You’re very kind,” Sarah said. “Thank you. And thank you, as well, for going out of your way to arrange a meeting between my aunt, Mrs. Speakley, and the earl. She’s scarce stopped talking of his attendance at her gathering, or of the visit he made the next day. She is the envy of all her friends.”

  “It was my pleasure,” Julia assured her. “Mrs. Speakley is a delightful woman. Of course now I understand Lord Graymar’s reason for making the request.”

  It took Sarah a moment to understand what Julia meant and why she was smiling just so.

  “Oh, dear me, no,” she said quickly. “I’m afraid you have the wrong notion, Mrs. Seymour. He undertook the meeting as a way of repaying me for aid rendered.”

  “For the messages in the journal?” she asked, keeping her voice low so that no one could overhear her. “My dear Miss Tamony, it wasn’t for that. Believe me.”

  Sarah blushed hotly. “I’m sure you must be wrong. His attentions are merely a ruse, a way for us to be together in case we need to discuss the … if by chance there should be another clue.”

  “If it’s a ruse,” Julia murmured, nodding toward two approac
hing figures, “then the Earl of Graymar is certainly playing it to perfection.”

  Sarah had told her mother and cousin that it was foolish for a woman to be given permission to waltz. She’d said it, perhaps, because she knew that no woman of her advanced years would be expected to be given permission and had wanted to make it clear that she didn’t care. But when Sarah found herself facing Lady Emily Cowper and being invited to waltz with a sober-faced Lord Graymar, she was stunned into an uncustomary speechlessness—and filled with an unexpected jolt of delight.

  “I would be honored if you would consent, Miss Tamony,” Lord Graymar said, holding out his arm.

  Sarah let him lead her to the dance floor. She gazed into his face as he set his hand on her waist and lifted her other hand high.

  “It will be like flying again, my lord,” she murmured.

  “Yes, Miss Tamony,” he replied softly, his strong fingers pressing against her in such a manner that she moved a little nearer. “It will.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  London, mid-April

  Serafina Daray leaned forward on the seat within her elegant carriage, peering more closely through the glass window. “That’s the brother, then?” she asked Tego, who sat opposite her, looking out as well. “Mr. Julius Tamony?”

  Tego gave a single nod and looked at the tall, finely dressed man with displeasure. “That’s him. The young woman is his cousin, Miss Philistia Tamony. She’s of no worry to us.”

  “I should think not,” Serafina murmured. “What a drab little creature. Nothing at all like the famous Miss Tamony. But the brother is … perfect.”

  The tone of her voice drew Tego’s sharp attention, and he silenced the words that wanted to tumble from his lips. He knew what that tone meant. His mistress was intrigued by a particular man … again. And now she’d not rest until she had him. Which was a damned lot of inconvenience for Tego.