Powder of Love (I)

by Summer Devon

  And the only time her breath hitched, her body seeming to draw in, was as she remembered Mr. Reed’s kisses—warm and soft, and then more demanding and interesting. The way he’d smiled at her afterward.

  That wasn’t love, was it?

  She couldn’t be sure it was, but she was very certain it was pure lust, and if she thought of him for one more moment—imagined his hands on her body or recalled the way he’d sprawled in her library in an extreme state of arousal, berating her for using words like bodies even while he looked at her with hungry eyes—if he entered her thoughts for another second, she’d run screaming from the room.

  That would give the servants something other than Miss Renshaw to talk about.

  Beels would back away from her, the way he’d done with Miss Renshaw the night she’d inhaled the powder. There was an image to cheer her and banish any gloomy thoughts.

  She was done with her five minutes of sulking, and she’d regained her equilibrium and ended the strange restlessness. Except, no, her body still yearned for more. More kisses, more touches. More Mr. Reed. Gideon.

  “I am not in love,” she told the brass elephant on her desk.

  The brass elephant always reminded her of her father, since it had sat on his desk. Therefore she could easily imagine it answering her in his voice.

  Perhaps it is time to think about settling down, before you make a fool of yourself. Don’t let yourself be captured into a mismatch by pure attraction.

  She didn’t argue.

  * * *

  Fifty people had said yes to the party invitations her mother had sent out. Not a huge event, but not as intimate as her mother had promised. Rosalie wasn’t surprised. Deirdre had grown up in a world that didn’t know how to do anything by halves.

  The list included a great many bachelors. Rosalie could pretend she was Prince Charming and looking for a gentleman who’d kneel at her feet, slip a shoe on her foot… No, it was the other way around in this case. He’d have to flee her house, and she’d go door to door with his patent leather dancing pump, looking for her mate.

  Or maybe she’d say yes to Mr. Wentworth, a perfectly nice gentleman who had gently pursued her for a couple of years. Well-bred, he was always polite, patient, reasonable, and didn’t carry irons in his pocket or know how to punch a man unconscious. Though she couldn’t quite picture his face at the moment, she knew he had brown eyes and a pleasant smile. He would fit her neatly ordered life like a hand slipping into a well-made glove.

  Her mother came in the door, humming. She looked Rosalie up and down. “You looked pinched, my darling. And if you don’t stop frowning, those lines in your forehead will be permanent.”

  “I am fine,” Rosalie said, but her mother didn’t avert her stare, and Rosalie knew that unless she confessed something, her mother would keep after her. “I have a mild case of spring fever, I suppose.”

  “An electrical treatment,” her mother said decisively. “Tomorrow. You’ll be relaxed enough for your party. It imparts a glow.”

  Just like the one Miss Renshaw had worn all afternoon at the beach.

  * * *

  Reed’s replacement met him in a parlor off the lobby of the hotel. Staring down at the telegraphy operator’s florid handwriting on the form confirming the new man’s appointment, Reed felt slightly queasy. It was one thing to shrug off the job, quite another to feel as if he could walk away when Clermont still wanted that powder and would do what he could to get it.

  The doctor still hadn’t notified Reed that the safe had arrived, and so the powder waited in Miss Ambermere’s basement. Reed couldn’t trust anyone else. Not yet.

  The new man cleared his throat. “I say, I’m Trevner.” He was a thin man with a square jaw almost balanced by a huge waxed mustache. Mild, pale eyes gave him the look of an amiable sheep. “As you see, I’m the, um, new representative for Mr.…um…Clermont. Secretary is the title they said I should use.” He laid a finger next to his nose in a knowing manner.

  That was quick. “Did you come from England? Just for this job?” This one wouldn’t last a week. The name sounded familiar. Reed examined him, recalling a more pugnacious version of a man with the same jaw and same name. He’d rather liked the other Trevner he knew.

  “Rather. Or rather not. I was over the pond anyway, and Clermont’s mother is a friend of my mater. And there’s a matter of me, in search of a new poze-ish.”

  “Poze what?”

  “Position. Work and so on. What have you. This is easy, one hopes, what?”

  Reed considered agreeing, but then he remembered the young German seamstress’s assistant Clermont had encountered near the hotel.

  Clermont had wanted a girl young enough to have no nether hair, he’d said, and if Reed hadn’t been there to stop him…

  “Come on,” Reed said and motioned to the broad staircase. “We’ll talk in the suite. Clermont’s napping. We don’t want to be absent when he wakes up.”

  He escorted Trevner into the small parlor next to the main sitting room of the apartment. Reed took up his position near the door so he could watch Clermont’s bedroom.

  He shoved his hands into his pockets and leaned against a wall. “Sometimes it’s an easy job, but you can’t relax. The main responsibility is stopping Clermont from attempting to seduce nearly every female he encounters. You can’t be squeamish about the subject of sexual congress, and you must be willing to occasionally physically subdue Clermont.”

  “Subdue him? Oh, I say. Doesn’t that make him angry?”

  “Certainly.”

  Trevner pursed pale lips under his pale mustache. “You’re Gideon Reed, aren’t you? My older brother went to Oxford with you. You’ve got a boxing blue.”

  Reed nodded.

  The thin young man sighed. “I haven’t any such ability. Pity. But I might be able to outwit the man. Certainly sounds a more interesting position than I’d expected. More action of all sorts.” His laughter was high-pitched and loud. Clermont wouldn’t sleep through that.

  After Reed hushed him, he told him how to enlist the aid of Clermont’s valet, Banbury, and occasionally hotel staff. The trick was to always carry money for tips or bribes.

  “He’s single-minded and intelligent,” Reed said. He didn’t want to scare off his replacement, but he didn’t want the young fool to be tossed in over his head.

  “So I’ll be trailing around after him?”

  “Yes, every time he goes out. And you better have a strong stomach or a strong interest in hearing about women’s bodies. You’ll be seeing quite a few naked females as well.”

  “I don’t much mind,” Trevner said.

  Reed wondered why the man sounded so indifferent. Offended or interested would have made more sense. He went on. “Because of his money and family, sometimes Clermont receives invitations from polite society. Unbelievable, if you ask me. At any rate, you must go along. Getting an invitation for yourself can be awkward on occasion, but you’ll have to be insistent. Do not allow him to go alone.” He stopped to think. “In a few days, he’ll be attending a party held by Miss Ambermere. I’ll be there, so you needn’t contrive to get an invitation for yourself.”

  “Ambermere. Rosalie Ambermere, eh?”

  Reed nodded.

  Trevner grinned at him, showing crooked front teeth. “Ha. I know that name. From England, I think?”

  Reed shrugged. “She lived there.”

  “Brunette.” Trevner’s hands formed curves in the air. “Lovely face and whatnot. All the trimmings, but a sharpish tongue and a bluestocking. Gave my brother an excoriation that had him in a bad mood for days.”

  “Oh?” Reed waited for more, but the boy went on reciting less interesting facts. “Her father was Lord Williamsford, a dour old blighter. Title went to…hmm…to a goer.” Trevner squinted. “I’ve heard the last Lord Williamsford was rather a version of this Clermont I’ll be trailing after.”

  Reed felt more cheerful. Trevner was less of a lackwit than he’d first seemed.
/>
  Trevner drew out a handful of crumpled yellow pieces of paper from his pocket. Telegrams. “Aha. Forgot. I’ll wager the late Lord Williamsford is mentioned in here.” He went to the dresser and carefully smoothed the papers on its top. “These are a few instructions. Must have cost them a packet to send all this along to me, what? I’m to ask you for details. The family said I am to watch out for some items that belonged to Lord ‘Wms.’ I’m guessing that’s Williamsford. I’m to buy ’em up from the current owner, whomever that might be.”

  “The only real nuisance Williamsford left behind is being taken care of.”

  “By whom? You?”

  “I helped to take care of it.”

  The pale eyes beamed at him. “Glad to hear I have one less problem to worry me. But come, you’re off the job now, Reed. No need to take up any more of your time.” He gave a tiny, fake cough. “I’ll have my things sent up. Will you stay on in the hotel?”

  A polite way to say it was time for him to move out of the suite. That was fine with Reed. He’d already spotted a furnished room not too far away from Washington Square, rented by the week. He wanted to stay close to Miss Ambermere’s house until he knew she was safe.

  After that, the Pacific. Or perhaps the Rockies. Something out there must be worth exploring, he supposed.

  He walked to the door. “I’ll leave behind my directions so you’ll be able to reach me. You keep an eye on Clermont’s door. He’s sleeping off a long night. I’ll go pack.”

  “No no no. Not this moment, dear sir. Of course, no need to hurry.” Trevner’s mouth fell open, and he looked slightly panicked. Perhaps he hadn’t thought Reed would take him seriously.

  “I’m confident you can prevent Clermont’s arrest and protect the innocent females of New York.”

  He had only one female he cared to protect.

  “You’ll just walk out? Not at all the thing.” Trevner bleated. This from the man who’d just made it clear Reed wasn’t welcome.

  “I’ll be back once I settle in. And yes, I’ll say good-bye to Clermont.”

  * * *

  Freedom to explore the city beckoned. A city filled with sights like the museums Clermont had avoided, but Reed found himself heading for Miss Ambermere’s house instead of visiting any of the usual tourist spots. Perhaps she’d got a note from the doctor by now. He’d check.

  She was home, surrounded by yards of red gauzy stuff and some shouting men.

  The expression of delight when she saw him made his heart thump hard.

  “I’ll be with you in a moment,” she told Reed, then turned to the men. “If you need to order more cloth, go right ahead. I have no opinion on the matter, and my mother isn’t available. So you do what you think best, all right? We don’t have time for squabbles.”

  The men began shouting at each other. Rosalie was louder. “Come to an agreement, or I’ll have the servants remove every square inch of this fabric, and we’ll have no need of either of you or your services. And no, I don’t mind the placement of the gilt cages for the birds, but I don’t want to hear about them. You do what you think is best,” she said again, only with a more ominous edge to her voice. A woman used to getting her way. And for a moment, Reed wondered if she’d be like a predator if she got a sniff of that powder. He was intrigued by the image of her stalking him, holding him with her gaze as she readied herself to pounce. Except what if he was in California and she hunted some other man? Jesus. No way would he leave—not until Dr. Leonard destroyed every last grain.

  She crossed the room swiftly as the men went to the fabric and began pulling at it.

  “My mother hired designers. Two of them. Rivals. And then my mother disappeared.” She sighed. “I think she’s with her rancher.”

  “Her what?”

  “A man who lives out west on a ranch or something.” She adjusted the cuff on her sleeves, no longer meeting his eyes. He understood that she didn’t want questions about her mother’s activities.

  He supposed his presence created another distraction in her long list of chores, so he reluctantly abandoned his plan to hang about and gaze at her. “I shan’t bother you for long. I only wanted to give you my new address.”

  “You’ve moved? What about Mr. Clermont’s—” she began, but stopped when a loud voice came from the front hall, asking for Miss Ambermere’s whereabouts. She looked up and frowned. “Oh dear. That will be Mr. Wentworth. He will want to stay and stay.” She shook her head fiercely. “I can’t bear it. The house will be filled tomorrow, and there is too much to do. Will you pardon me for a moment?”

  She showed Reed to the library and vanished, but not heading to the front door. A few minutes later, she returned to the quiet library, where there was no sound of the party preparations.

  “I had Beels tell him I was out,” she explained. “I’m just…” She pressed her lips tightly together. “I’m tired, I suppose. My mother’s visit.” Her laugh was unconvincing, and Reed went to her, wrapped his arms around her before he had time to think too hard and change his mind. She made him lose his control, yes, but even if he could think clearly, he’d do exactly this. Hold her firmly against him, stroke her hair and delicate shoulder blades. And enjoy it all, particularly when she leaned against him.

  “You were asking about Mr. Clermont. I’ve left his family’s employment, but I shall keep an eye on him. I will keep you and that powder safe from the fool until we hear from Doctor Leonard.”

  He waited for her to grow offended by his declaration, but she only nodded against his coat and sighed. “Thank you.”

  “It seems less noisy out there,” he said.

  “The two arguing gentlemen have agreed to stop squabbling. They’ve taken themselves off by coach to a warehouse for some missing supplies. They shan’t reappear for at least an hour.” Her voice against his front was muffled. “I didn’t mean to sneak off with you to do this again.”

  “No, of course not,” he said, but he didn’t let go.

  She stirred, wiggling in his arms so he loosened his hold. She was only turning her head up, however. He allowed himself to indulge in a kiss. His mouth against hers, light, breathy touches, and then sinking into a deeper kiss. This was what he’d been thinking about for the last few days. Since the moment he’d last touched her. This was the one time he absolutely knew he was alive.

  “Rosalie,” he whispered.

  She gave a small laugh. “You do know my first name.”

  “Mmm. Rosalie, Rosalie. Rosalie.”

  She stopped him by planting another kiss at the corner of his mouth.

  Then he was returning her kiss, stroking her back, cupping her scalp so he could twist and taste even more. She had her arms around him.

  A vine, she’d called herself. A delicious, sweet vine, and he wished she could climb in even closer. He’d have every bit of her touching him.

  His head was clear; nothing fogged his thoughts. And he desired her so much, nothing else could get in the way.

  “What do you want?” he whispered.

  “You, I think.”

  “What will you do with me if you have me?”

  Her laughter was rich with amusement—and promise too. “I’m embarrassed to say,” she said. “May I show you?”

  If only he hadn’t spent months following Clermont. If only he hadn’t watched so much. “I’m not certain it’s wise,” he said and gently grasped her hands.

  “You don’t want me?”

  “I want you more than I want to breathe,” he said. “But…I have come to regard matters of the flesh more solemnly than I used to. Only as a reaction to what I’ve witnessed, you understand.”

  “No.” She rested her head against his chest. “I don’t understand.”

  “I don’t want to be careless like Clermont.”

  She nodded, and her hair tickled his cheek. “And you think this is careless?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Oh. How will you know?”

  He wrapped his arms around
her again, let her burrow against him, breathing, almost panting against his chest, heated breath coming out, chill as she breathed in. Hot and cold, he thought. She must think I’m a maniac. I am, I suppose.

  “Gideon.” Her voice was muffled against him.

  “Yes?”

  “Should I stop?”

  “No.” He put his crooked finger under her chin and raised her face to look into her eyes. “Never mind wisdom. I want to remember the way you look. Rosalie.”

  “Remember? Because soon you won’t be able to see the original? Are you going somewhere?”

  He only shook his head. At the moment, he was not going anywhere, and to hell with the future. Now was far more interesting.

  Her moist lips parted, the slightest flash of her teeth in a tentative smile that died at once, the tip of her tongue nervously running over her lips.

  He needed another kiss and tilted his head to taste her better. Her sighing groan was too much. He lost all the propriety, all the resolutions for a purer life. All gone because of desperate need.

  She didn’t wear a bustle, only a slight padding above her waist that he could ignore, and he slid his hands over her. The stiff corset, and then below only a few layers of cloth, sweet, pliable flesh. She started but didn’t pull away as he rested his hands over the perfect curves of her bum. He lightly caressed her with his palms as he pulled her close, hard against his aching erection. But he resisted the need to move and feel the friction of her body on his. He didn’t want to shock her. Holding her was enough, he reminded himself.

  She wrapped her arms around his waist and squirmed against him. Inexpert but eager, she unbuttoned his waistcoat and slid her hands over the thin shirt beneath, then reached around him.

  “You’re hard and hot.” She splayed her hands on his spine, and he realized the part of his anatomy she meant was his back.

  She whimpered, and he held her head so he could kiss her again, harder and longer, until she panted and grabbed at his shirt—either to hold him close or herself upright. She scrabbled at his clothing, trying to get at his skin. The eagerness was new to him. The other women he’d been with were more coy and more experienced. Her obvious desire to touch him was an aphrodisiac that put that damned powder to shame.