Regina sauntered toward her. “Uncle Charles’s notes on his Egyptian excavation?”
“Of course.” Evangeline folded her hands on top of the stack as if trying to block Regina’s view.
Before Sophia and Evangeline were born and Regina was still in nappies, Uncle Charles spent a year in Egypt racing against Napoleon’s band of antiquarians to uncover Egyptian artifacts to claim for the British Museum. In the end, Uncle Charles didn’t have much to show for the time he’d spent searching for tombs to raid, but he’d returned with a treasure trove of stories.
“You’ve read his pages a thousand times.”
“I have,” Evangeline said with a challenging tilt of her head, “and I remain fascinated by his records. They contain valuable information about the fine details of orchestrating a dig. If I want to go on my own expeditions someday, I must be prepared.”
Even as young as four, Evangeline had perched on the edge of her seat with wide-eyed wonder, listening to Mama read from Uncle Charles’s letters about his many adventures. Evangeline would come into her majority at the end of the summer and gain access to her inheritance just as Regina had a year and a half ago. Evangeline was already forming plans to travel with Uncle Charles, although Regina wasn’t certain Aunt Beatrice would approve.
“You could recite his paper word for word. How could you be any more prepared?” Regina claimed the chair across from Evangeline and folded her hands on the table in front of her, mirroring her sister. “Do you remember how annoyed Papa would become when Mama spoke of Uncle Charles’s bravery?”
Evangeline puffed out her chest and sputtered in a perfect imitation of their father. “Damned foolish, I’d say. It is a wonder your brother wasn’t captured and killed. Papa never liked Uncle Charles, did he?”
Regina shrugged. “I think he disliked sharing Mama’s admiration. Papa couldn’t have been too conflicted about Uncle Charles since he named him our guardian.”
Evangeline grinned. “Perhaps that is because he disliked his own brother more.”
Regina conceded the point. It didn’t matter why their father had chosen Uncle Charles. He’d arranged for her and her sisters to have a home, and it was a happy one.
She glanced at the stack in front of Evangeline; her sister snatched up the papers and hugged them to her chest.
“Keep your secrets. If they make you happy, then I am happy.”
Evangeline’s mouth puckered. “You’re just trying to make me feel guilty.”
“I am not.”
“You are. You trick me into telling you everything by making me feel bad for having secrets. You’ve been that way since we were girls.”
Regina laughed at her sister’s accusation. Perhaps it was partly true, but only because it was the easiest way to rattle Evangeline and uncover whatever mischief she was up to. Regina barely needed to say a word for her sister to tattle on herself.
“Oh, very well,” Evangeline said with a huff. “I’m not studying his notes on Egypt again. I found these in Uncle Charles’s top desk drawer.”
“I thought he kept it locked.”
Her sister’s cheeks bloomed with color. “He does, but the letter opener was simply lying there, and I couldn’t help myself.”
“Evangeline!”
“I know. I’ve done a horrible thing.”
Regina laughed. “Uncle Charles is more likely to be impressed by your nefarious activities than angry with you for picking the lock.”
“Perhaps. I suppose if he didn’t want me to use the skill, he wouldn’t have taught me it.”
“I doubt he ever thought you would use it against him.” Regina leaned forward onto her elbows, curious about what her sister found. “What is it?”
“Something more exciting than mummies.” Evangeline’s blue eyes sparkled. “He is searching for an ancient band of mercenaries rumored to have lived at least 800 years ago. Crusaders first encountered the group in Dyrrchion, but there are tales from Rome to Antioch of violent altercations with the Black Death.”
“The Black Death. Like the plague?” Regina wrinkled her nose. “Why on earth would any group choose such a horrid name?”
“It was given to them. According to Uncle Charles’s research, the warriors were like ghosts slipping into a camp unseen and unheard then leaving death and devastation in their wake. But there was one account of a warrior entering a camp in the middle of the day to assassinate a rival tribe’s chief. Needless to say, the warrior met his end as soon as he committed the deed.”
Regina shivered in revulsion. “I will never understand your passion for warfare.”
“I am not interested in war per se, but I cannot deny some ancient methods of warding off attacks were ingenious. For instance, did you know sand was often used to defend medieval castles? Not only could it stop invaders from climbing the walls, it made the enemy’s armor itchy.”
“That is rather brilliant,” Regina admitted. “And less gruesome than your usual stories, which I don’t care to hear, so let’s change the subject.”
“You asked what I was studying.”
“My mistake.” Regina was interested in one part, however. “Why would Uncle Charles search for a group of warrior assassins? Doesn’t he realize he is no match?”
Evangeline flopped against the seatback and laughed. “The Black Death is extinct, silly, if they were ever real. Uncle Charles’s notes say the group is likely a myth. He is looking for proof of their existence.”
“Oh!” Regina brightened. “That is a relief. For a moment, I feared perhaps he’d found them, which could explain the reason he did not come home as expected.”
“I’m sure he is caught up in his work.” Evangeline hopped up to retrieve a sheet of foolscap, inkpot, and a quill from a writing desk in the corner. “I have already composed the advertisement in my head. Let’s get it on the page.”
Regina offered suggestions for a different word here and there, but overall, Evangeline didn’t need her input. Once her sister sanded the page and folded it, she passed it to Regina.
“Would you like me to accompany you?” Evangeline asked.
Regina shook her head. “Go back to your studies. I will have Joy walk with me.”
It wasn’t ideal to drag their maid away from her duties, but Regina couldn’t go out alone. The Morning Times office was too far away for Aunt Beatrice to walk, and yet, it wasn’t far enough to justify calling for the barouche.
Regina retrieved Joy from upstairs then collected her bonnet and gloves from the narrow table by the door. As she and the maid reached the front walkway, someone called out, “Good morning, Miss Darlington.”
She jerked her head up and discovered Mr. Vistoire strolling in their direction with a walking stick in one hand and a blond-haired little boy who was no older than two, if that, snug in the crook of his arm. A young woman dressed in gray fustian trailed close behind.
The brass handle of Mr. Vistoire’s walking stick glinted in the sunlight, and a sharp click accompanied each strike against the ground. Impractical white trousers skimmed his long legs and complemented the dark blue tailcoat he wore. Every inch of him from his beaver hat to polished black boots revealed his genteel upbringing.
“Mr. Vistoire.” She eyed him warily as he approached. When he stopped in front of her and flashed his handsome smile, she turned her gaze on the boy. He shared Mr. Vistoire’s rare green eyes, but the bow shape of his sweet little mouth and the serious slant of his dark blond brows marked him as Serafine Tucker’s son—Mr. Vistoire’s nephew. And he was just as adorable as Mr. Vistoire was handsome.
She crossed her arms to stifle the friendly feelings welling up inside her. “Good morning,” she mumbled. She’d feared he would follow through with his threat to call on her, but she’d hoped for more time to fortify herself.
The little boy wrapped his arms around Mr. Vistoire’s neck and laid his head on his shoulder. He popped his thumb in his mouth.
Blast. How was she supposed to remain aloof in the
face of such a darling display of familial affection? The man was diabolical.
As if he could read her thoughts, he nuzzled his nephew’s hair and grinned. “You don’t seem surprised to see me.”
“Why should I be, sir? You announced your intentions last night.” Then his secret weapon was deployed. The little one gave her a shy smile that melted her heart. “Most suitors bring flowers, Mr. Vistoire. Perhaps you are wiser than most. I do hope you introduce me to this charming young lad.”
“This is my sister’s boy, Simon. He remarked on the lovely morning over breakfast and thought we should go for a walk. As you can see, his nanny and I are the ones doing the walking. Simon’s legs grew too tired to carry him before we were out of sight of the house.”
She couldn’t help smiling at the boy, and Mr. Vistoire’s exaggerated accounting of how they’d come to be outside Wedmore House. She highly doubted a child Simon’s age was capable of verbalizing his wants so succinctly. “You are a smart boy, Simon. If I could manage it, I would have Mr. Vistoire carry me, too.”
Mr. Vistoire’s eyebrows shot up. “Perhaps if you asked nicely...”
“I meant if I were a child.” Heat swept over her.
He shrugged as if it made no difference to him that she was grown. “I was under the impression it was impolite to pay calls this early.”
She savored the sweet taste of victory. He’d passed her the perfect excuse to turn him away. “It is customary to call in the afternoon. Perhaps another day, Mr. Vistoire.”
“I suppose it is fortunate it wasn’t my intention to call on you this morning. Simon and I are on our way to feed the geese at the park.” He directed his attention toward Simon’s nanny. “Are you still in possession of the bread, Miss Lillywhite?”
“Yes, sir.” The raven-haired young woman held up a white wicker basket as if inviting Regina to inspect it.
“Then we should be on our way. Good day, Miss Darlington.” He tipped his hat to her.
“Good day,” Simon echoed in his darling little voice, mashing the words together so they sounded like one.
Regina gaped after the small party as they continued their journey without a backward glance for her.
Joy sidled up to her to watch them march away. “I’m sure you could join them if you wanted.”
“I most certainly will not.” She swallowed to ease the unexpected ache in her throat. “Not without an invitation.”
“I don’t think the gentleman would complain,” Joy said. “I saw the way he looked at you when he was a guest at Wedmore House.”
“He wasn’t a guest. He—” She glanced around the street to make sure no one had overheard then lowered her voice even though the street was deserted this early. “I only made his acquaintance last night. Please don’t ever say otherwise.”
Joy cast down her eyes. “Of course, miss. I was not thinking.”
Regina sighed. She hadn’t meant to sound scolding. “If it makes you feel better, he has a similar effect on me. I become a blithering idiot every time we meet. In truth, I’m relieved he didn’t come to see me.”
“I am sure you are, miss.”
It was a lie. She knew it. Joy knew it. But they entered into a silent agreement to pretend otherwise and set off to complete Regina’s errand.
Twelve
Xavier’s step was a little livelier when he returned to Wedmore House that afternoon. The shocked expression on Miss Darlington’s face when he’d told her that he wasn’t there to see her still made laughter build up in his chest. Lady Luck had been with him this morning when Miss Darlington appeared on the walkway just as he was passing. He’d hoped she might catch a glimpse of him when he’d chosen to take that particular route to Hyde Park. An actual encounter was even better.
She wanted him, but she would never admit it unless her desire for him was greater than her damnable pride. In the short time that he’d known Regina Darlington, he’d discovered a couple of truths about her. She liked to remain in control, which would be difficult for her to accomplish if he refused to play by her rules.
He’d taken a gamble this morning by pretending he had no interest in seeing her when in reality, she’d stolen his breath. Every time he saw her, she grew more beautiful. He hoped his pretense had unbalanced her and left her less resistant to receiving him.
Secondly, she was a nurturer. The soft glow of her eyes when she’d looked at Simon only confirmed his opinion. A nurturer would not appreciate a bouquet that would perish in a few days, which was the reason he hadn’t come with flowers. Instead, he had brought a plant.
Arriving at the double-hung black doors of Wedmore House, he shifted the potted orchid to his other arm and reached for the doorknocker only to snatch his hand back.
“Sacre bleu!” He blinked, studying the unusual design. For a second, he’d believed he was about to be struck by a serpent, but it was merely a harmless iron reproduction. He grabbed the snake’s tail and knocked.
Several moments passed without an answer. He was reaching for the knocker again when the door drifted open, and Miss Darlington peeked through the crack.
“Mr. Vistoire, what are you doing here?”
He narrowed his eyes. “You are still without a butler. You promised to speak with Lord Margrave.”
“I have the matter well in hand, not that it is any of your concern.” She kept her body hidden behind the door. Her tongue nervously darted over her lips as her fingers tightened on the edge of the door.
“What are you doing in there?” He craned his neck to see what or whom she was hiding. If one of those blackguards she’d mentioned last night had shoved his way inside, Xavier would toss him out on his bum. “Who is in there with you?”
“No one. I wasn’t expecting visitors.” She frowned. “Including you. I thought you decided against calling today.”
“I never said I had changed my mind, Miss Darlington. I was simply waiting for an acceptable time.” He lifted to his toes to peer over her head and into the foyer, unconvinced everything was in order like she said.
She opened the door wider and pushed her hand against his shoulder. Her amber green eyes sparked with ire. “Stop spying on me. What do you want?”
Finding the hall behind her empty, he dropped his guard. Tension drained from his body, and an indulgent smile spread across his lips. “You,” he drawled.
“Me? What about me?” She stepped back and flung the door open. “You might as well come inside. Lingering on the stoop all day is going to set tongues wagging.”
A shrill bark echoed off the domed ceiling and the rapid click of nails against the marble floor sounded in the room.
“Oh, no!” Miss Darlington grabbed Xavier by the front of his waistcoat and ineffectively tugged. “Hurry! He’s coming.”
Her panicked tone spurred him into action. He slipped inside Wedmore House, and she slammed the door just as Cupid launched himself at them. The dog crashed into Xavier’s shins and fell on his side with a yelp, but he was back on his feet in no time. Hopping on his hind legs, Cupid clawed at Xavier’s new trousers. The little dog’s pink tongue flopped from the side of his mouth and saliva dripped onto Xavier’s boots.
“Cupid, no!” Miss Darlington grabbed for the poodle, but he skittered out of her reach. “Blast!”
She straightened and her hands landed on her hips. “Mind your manners, you little beast.”
Cupid barked several times as if defending his actions before returning to jump up on Xavier and drown his boots in drool. A rancid odor assaulted Xavier’s sensibilities. He covered his mouth and nose to block the smell. “Good Lord! What is that stench?”
“I’m not sure. Cupid either rolled in the neighbor’s freshly fertilized flower beds or found something dead.” Miss Darlington wrinkled her nose. “Perhaps both. I was preparing to give him a b-a-t-h before you arrived.”
“Give him two baths. He smells disgusting.”
The dog ceased trying to climb Xavier’s legs. His ears flattened, and a deep-thro
ated growl came from the bundle of black curls.
“Splendid. Now I’ll never get him in the b-a-t-h.”
“Why are you spelling bath?”
Cupid snarled and snapped. Xavier leapt back in surprise, bumping into the door at his back.
“Because Cupid knows that word and hates what it means. He’s a devil to catch if he knows what is in store for him.” She lunged for the dog and collapsed on her hands and knees when he shot out of her grasp. Cupid tore down the narrow corridor leading to the back of the house. The housekeeper was exiting a room as he zipped past, and she screeched.
“So sorry, Mrs. Cox,” Miss Darlington called.
The woman pursed her lips, but said nothing as she moved on with her bucket and mop.
Miss Darlington sighed. “It is no use. We’ll have to tolerate the smell until Aunt Beatrice returns.”
“How long will that be?”
She sat on her haunches. “She and Sophia are attending Lady Chattington’s garden party. I suppose it depends on how much Sophia is enjoying herself.”
If the layout of the house matched the drawing he’d received, the library was located toward the back of the house. He knew how he was going to search for the map.
“That is entirely too long.” He offered his hand, juggling the plant to keep it from being crushed between them as he pulled her to her feet. Once she’d gained her balance, he held out his gift. “For you. Perhaps you could find a safe place for it while I give chase.”
She accepted the potted orchid with a smirk. “Good luck. I’ll be in the drawing room when you have discovered it is a hopeless cause.”
“Nothing is hopeless, my dear.”
After two years of captivity, he was a free man. Hope had gotten him this far, and he didn’t intend to abandon it now.
He deposited his hat and gloves on the table in the foyer and strolled along the corridor, whistling for the dog in order to hide the fact he was actually snooping around Wedmore House. Multicolored woven carpets laid end to end muffled his footsteps as he moved deeper into the house. Sunlight spilled through the massive leaded window at the end of the passage, making navigation easy.
Secrets to a Gentleman's Heart (Gentlemen of Intrigue Book 1) Page 10
