The only black mark on the situation was Mac’s almost obsessive desire to avoid her assistant. Though Sydney had not missed the way her bodyguard’s gaze tracked Amelia’s movements. Any time the two were in the same room, the air fairly crackled with tension.
Perhaps she should find other ways to force them to spend more time together. They would never be able to mend the rift if they’re constantly at opposing ends. Yes, a few pushes in the right direction should do it.
***
A few hours later, Sydney found herself standing in the entrance hall of Lord Danforth’s town house, trying desperately to focus on his butler’s words. But the disturbing hour she’d spent in Abbingale Home continued to overpower her concentration.
Everything had been too perfect, too quiet and organized for a house full of excitable boys. If not for her brief communication with the green-eyed boy, she might have left there thinking the home nothing more than a gloomy place, despite its possible link to Latymer. Then again, she would not have been able to ignore the call of the secret chamber.
As it was, the staff’s odd behavior had only succeeded in sparking Sydney’s protective instincts. What she needed to protect the boys from, she didn’t yet know. But something inside that house licked at a dark shadow hovering on the edge of her consciousness, a raw, ugly place she had locked away many, many years ago, without looking back.
Nor would she now.
“I’m sorry, Tanner,” Sydney said to the butler. “When is your last day again?”
“End of the month, miss.”
Amelia chimed in. “How many footmen do you oversee?”
“Only one, ma’am. His lordship prefers keeping a small staff.”
“Oh?” Sydney asked, recalling Lord Danforth mentioning the same thing. “Why is that?”
“All he needs is clean clothes, edible food, and a discreet household,” Tanner said as if reciting a much-heard mantra. “He’s also a private man, Miss Hunt, and doesn’t care to be tripping over servants day and night.”
“Does he employ a valet?”
“No, miss. If his lordship needs assistance with his wardrobe, he calls on either the footman or myself.”
“I see.” Sydney shared a glance with her assistant, who made a note. “Will his lordship’s butler be required to attend him during all hours of the evening, then?”
“Not at all. His lordship insists on using his own key at night.”
“That’s right,” a new voice added. “I don’t need a servant to open the damned door for me, even if I’m stumbling across the threshold.”
Sydney’s heart kicked against the wall of her chest. She glanced up to find Lord Danforth making his way down the grand staircase. Dressed in buckskin breeches, riding boots, and a wine-colored coat tailored to embrace his broad shoulders and sculpted midsection, he made her forget how to breathe. Especially when she noticed how his damp sable locks curled roguishly at the tips. The sight conjured an image of him rising from his bath, water cascading over the hard planes of his stomach, his lean hips, his rigid—
“Good morning, ladies,” Lord Danforth said.
Sydney’s blood ran hotly through her veins, a flush covered her skin from head to toe. Never had she wanted anything more—to see Ethan deBeau in the nude, wet, aroused. For her.
“Lord Danforth.” Amelia bumped her elbow into Sydney’s.
Blinking, Sydney forced the erotic image from her mind and steadied her breathing. “Good morning, sir. I did not expect to see you.”
“My schedule opened up.” He halted a hand’s width away. “So I thought I’d check on Tanner to make sure you haven’t sent him into a swoon with your interrogation.”
Tanner sniffed. “I haven’t needed the salts since ’91, sir.”
“Sounds like you’re due, old boy.”
Sydney glanced between the two men. “I assure you, my lord. It is not my intention to distress Tanner, only gather enough information to recommend an appropriate replacement.”
The viscount winked at his butler before closing the minuscule distance separating their bodies. “You don’t have brothers, do you?”
“As a matter of fact, I do.”
“Younger brother, right?”
“What does my having a younger brother got to do with our present discussion?”
“The mothering sort.” He chucked her under the chin. “No humor in your bones.” Clasping his hands behind his back, he straightened. “We’ll have to work on that, won’t we, Tanner?”
“Indeed, sir.”
Rubbing the area beneath her chin, she glanced at Amelia and noted her assistant’s wide, shocked eyes. What had brought on his lordship’s playful mood? Especially since he hadn’t wanted her to come in the first place. If she didn’t know any better, she would suspect him of flirting.
When she shifted her attention back, his blue-green eyes twinkled down at her. Gentlemen more handsome and dangerous than this man had tried to woo her into their beds. Only once before had she experienced the pull of attraction. Philip. Even now, two years later, her stomach clenched with regret. For a time, she had contemplated marriage to the young physician—until she’d offered the darkest piece of her soul to him, and he’d turned away.
“Well, Mrs. Cartwright,” Sydney said in a brisk tone. “Do we have what we need to get started?”
“Yes, Miss Hunt. I can always call on Mr. Tanner later if I have additional questions.”
“Very well. Tanner, thank you for your candid answers. Your lordship,” she dipped into a curtsy before turning toward the door, “always a pleasure.”
“What great timing,” Lord Danforth said. “Perhaps you would care to join me for a ride in the park, Miss Hunt. Your assistant is welcome to come along as chaperone, of course.”
His invitation stopped her mid-stride, and Amelia swerved to avoid a collision. “Pardon?”
“A ride,” he said, with a rogue’s smile. “In a carriage. Through the park. Amidst curious gossips.”
“I understood what you meant,” she bit out. “What I’m wondering is why? Noblemen do not drive, ride, or stroll with commoners.”
“Perhaps not.” His eyes lowered in that heavy-lidded way that bespoke of a man’s interest. “But I do.”
“Not with me, you don’t. I’m not interested in being the ton’s newest on dit.”
“How very strange.” He sent her a considering look. “Most ladies would vie for the position.”
“Then you will have no trouble filling my spot on your seat. Good day, Lord Danforth. We will send our recommendation on Monday.”
She had taken no more than two steps when he said, “What about my new footman?”
Sydney pivoted in time to see Tanner’s look of askance. “What are you talking about now?”
“After more consideration, I’ve decided to add another footman to my staff.” He brushed at invisible dirt specks on first one coat sleeve and then the other. “A viscount can never have too many footmen, or so I’m told.”
Unable to stop herself, she slid her gaze down his body, taking in every inch of his attire. “A valet might be a better use of your coin.”
He peered down at his clothes. “What’s wrong with the way I’m dressed? Tanner assured me that the cut of my coat would cause much vaporing among the ladies.”
“Hmm,” Sydney mused, indulging in another slow perusal. “I suppose I can see why they would faint.” Of course, there was nothing wrong with his sense of fashion. He was impeccably dressed, from the tips of his polished Hessians to the intricate folds of his neckcloth. The only area that could use a valet’s touch was his tousled hair. The soft waves seemed to be forever winking this way and that, as if he tunneled his fingers through the thick strands on a regular basis. On further consideration, she was glad he didn’t use pomade or any other taming salve on those handsome curl
s. Somehow, the chaos suited him.
“Then I shall require a valet, too. There, you see? Tanner is all but jumping with joy at the prospect. Perhaps Mrs. Tanner is in need of a maid to help with the household chores.”
The butler’s lips creaked into a smile.
“Lord Danforth,” she said. “Surely, you understood that I spoke in jest.”
He looked to Tanner. “Did you think her comments were in earnest?”
“Quite, sir.”
“There you have it, Miss Hunt,” he said. “Perhaps you and I should adjourn to my study to discuss the specifics of the additional staff, and I would also like to discuss additional remunerations for my current staff.”
Tanner’s mouth dropped open.
Sydney was undecided. This blatant attempt of his to get her alone did not bode well. He would once again try to seduce information from her with his charm and rawboned handsomeness. And she would refuse, this time with a great deal more conviction.
Assuming he hadn’t yet uncovered where they had met before, she could think of no reason for his persistence—other than his belief that they had met before. Could that be it? He’d detected something familiar about her and now wouldn’t leave her be until he figured out why? Only one way to find out, but first, she wanted to test his level of need.
“Very well, my lord.” She motioned to her assistant. “Come along, Mrs. Cartwright. You can record the details of our conversation.”
“Um,” Lord Danforth said. “Perhaps Mrs. Cartwright would prefer to inspect the butler’s quarters and where my new valet will be located.”
He thought quickly on his feet, she would give him that.
“Some other time, perhaps. I would rather Amelia act as secretary at our meeting.”
“But then Mrs. Cartwright would have to make a return trip to view the butler’s and valet’s apartments,” he said. “I took you for a businesswoman who did not knowingly waste her clients’ time.”
When charm failed to achieve the expected result, his lordship changed tactics and attacked his opponent’s vital organs. A stratagem she would not soon forget. “It was not my intention to waste anyone’s time. I’m simply trying to ensure that all your requirements are documented.”
“I shall play secretary, while you listen raptly, Miss Hunt,” he said. “My services will leave your assistant free to join Tanner on a tour.”
How had he maneuvered her into such an inescapable corner? Squirming against the constraints of her new position, Sydney barely managed a civil reply. “How can I turn down such a generous offer? Mrs. Cartwright, do you mind?”
“Not at all, Miss Hunt. Tanner, would you please show me your quarters?”
“It would be my pleasure, ma’am.”
Sydney splayed her arms wide. “I am at your disposal, my lord.”
Something dark flared behind his unusual eyes, and Sydney felt the strike of it all the way to her toes. Then he blinked, breaking the disturbing connection as if it had never been.
“This way, then,” he said.
Once they entered his study, he closed the door and motioned her toward the sapphire sofa. “May I offer you a refreshment?”
“No, thank you.” She perched on the edge, angling her body toward the adjacent chair. But the irritating man sat next to her and reclined in a manner that put her erect posture in direct contrast with his informal one. With his long arm stretched across the back of the sofa and his legs spread wide, he reeked of arrogance and a complete lack of regard for propriety.
He also warmed the air around her.
“Tell me, Miss Hunt,” he said. “What business do you have with Abbingale Home?”
Shock gripped her body, turning her poker-straight spine into a rod of cold steel. “Pardon?”
“The home for orphans. On White Horse Lane,” he said. “I’m curious about your interest.”
She had been wrong. About him and his reason for insisting on this private meeting. He’d lured her here, not for a warm kiss, but for a frigid slap to the face. By changing his tactic from seduction to a full-frontal attack, he no doubt hoped to throw her off-balance, shatter her nerves, and make her careless.
His ploy had worked—to a point. He’d cracked her armor but bolstered her resolve.
“I can hear your thoughts groping for the right response,” he said. “Why don’t you spare us both the time and energy of a verbal fencing match and simply answer my question?”
“How is it you know about my visits to Abbingale?”
“I happened to be in the area,” he said with a shrug, “and saw you leaving.”
“What were you doing in the area?”
“Taking in the scenery, of course.”
“Of course.” Had Lord Somerton sent one of his agents to investigate the boys’ home? She wouldn’t be surprised. Her contact with the Nexus had mentioned the possibility of a connection between Abbingale and Latymer, but he hadn’t asked her to probe into the home’s operation, only to find the baron.
Since Lord Danforth knew nothing about her underground ring of spies, he would rightly be curious about her and her interest in Abbingale. If she had done something to spark his curiosity. Her visit to the establishment didn’t seem enough to warrant such focused attention.
“When might that have been, my lord?” she asked. “When did you see me leave Abbingale?”
His eyes narrowed the slightest bit. “I don’t recall the exact day.”
“Not today, then.”
“No.”
“Yesterday, perhaps?”
“Perhaps.”
“Not likely, as I did not visit Abbingale yesterday.”
“I told you,” he said between thin lips. “I couldn’t recall the exact day.”
“Come now,” she said in a teasing tone. “Are you so busy that you cannot even recall your schedule from one day ago?”
“Since my memory is so faulty, we might have more success if you list the days you were there. Your superior recall might trigger a memory in my poor mind.”
“I heard once that exercise keeps us young in body and keen of wit. Could it be that your aristocratic indulgences have turned your mind to mush?”
The corner of his mouth quirked upward. “Entirely possible.”
“I take it that my association with Abbingale, and not the details involved with adding more servants to your staff, is the true impetus behind your wish for our tête-à-tête.”
“Is this your way of avoiding my question?”
“I am merely looking for clarification.” She eased herself back to match his indolent pose. “What does my visiting a home for orphans have to do with our discussion regarding your staff?”
His fingers brushed against the sofa near her shoulder. “Absolutely nothing.”
“Do you even need the extra staff?”
“I’ve come to realize the maid, footman, and valet would be welcome additions. So I’ll still need your agency’s services.”
“And what of a new butler?”
“No,” he said with shocking honesty. “Tanner will still be ruling this household from his deathbed, and when he does eventually kick up his toes, he’ll probably be entombed next to the silver, so that his ghostly presence can continue plaguing me for years to come.”
“And the remuneration for your present staff?”
“I should like to make sure I’m paying them an adequate wage and would like to discuss providing them with more time off. It’s my understanding that your services extend to these areas.”
“Indeed, they do. Why make all these changes now?”
“Let’s say my eyes have been recently opened to the deplorable conditions of those in service.”
“I applaud your actions.” She leveled her gaze on him. “But I’m curious about your original request for my agency’s service
s. Do you always take such extreme measures after seeing a stranger leave an establishment you have an interest in?”
“I do not.”
“An impulsive act, then?”
All levity disappeared from his features. “Strategy can oftentimes be confused with impulsivity, Miss Hunt.” His gaze shifted to the small vee of space between her shoulder and the sofa. “Don’t make the same mistake others have.”
She knew better than to underestimate this man. Everything he did, he did with purpose. “Strategy? A rather interesting choice of words.”
“We live in an interesting world.”
Lifting a brow, she asked, “Why the ruse? Why did you not ask your rather direct question at the agency yesterday?”
He tilted his head to the side. “I didn’t think you would answer the question, at the time.”
“What makes you think I’ll answer it now?”
“Touché.” He considered her for a long moment. “You presented me with a mystery. One I felt deserved a slightly more covert approach to solving, Miss Hunt, or perhaps you prefer Mrs. Henshaw.”
Her earlier shock was nothing compared to her reaction at hearing him use the name of her alternate identity. Not only had he noticed her leaving the boys’ home, he must have been close enough to overhear her conversations with Abbingale’s staff. But when? How? If he had been anywhere near the building, she would have noticed him.
Except for today. She hadn’t been aware of anything but the open doorway leading out to her carriage. Her previous visit was another matter, however. She turned her mind back to her brief tour on Wednesday. There had been a small exchange just outside the entrance door, but she could not recall the specifics.
If he hadn’t been nearby, perhaps someone within the boys’ home had contacted him about her. For what purpose? Sydney discarded the possibility. If that had been the case, his informant would have shared the reason behind her visits. No one at Abbingale had any cause to believe she was anything other than a potential benefactress.
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