by Cara Elliott
Too restless to sleep, Ciara threw off the tangled sheets and rose from her bed. The scudding clouds hid all but a tiny sliver of the moon. Its light flickered for a moment across the carpet, then was quickly obscured by the storm-black shadows. A drizzling rain pattered against the leaded windows, and as she pressed her cheek to the glass, the chill seeping through felt good against her skin.
Hot and cold. Black and white.
Life was rarely defined in such simple terms.
Her sigh fogged the glass. Ciara was shocked and appalled at her wanton behavior. As well as curious and elated. She knew that she should feel ashamed of herself, but somehow guilt could not get a grip on her heart.
Was it wrong to seize a moment of pleasure?
Ciara wasn’t sure she knew the answer. Far more learned minds than hers had wrestled with the philosophical question.
She wandered out into the corridor, hesitated, and then headed for the library. A book—preferably one on a soporific subject like crop rotation—might help to take the edge off her nerves. Then again, the topic of sowing seeds might not have the intended calming effect.
What the devil did Hadley do to release his pent-up… frustrations?
The man would not suffer in solitude, she told herself. He had plenty of women willing to satisfy his needs. Or he could visit a fancy brothel.
Neither option offered her much peace of mind. Not that it was any of her business how the earl spent his hours, or his money. He was, of course, free to do as he pleased—
A tiny snick, the scrape of metal on metal, suddenly caught her attention.
Ciara stilled her steps and waited.
It came again.
Had she left a window latch loose in her laboratory? She wasn’t usually so careless.
She was about to move when she heard a scuff of leather. Footsteps. Picking up a heavy brass candlestick from the side table, she tiptoed to the door and pressed her ear to the oak.
A shuffling, and then a low snarl as a set of measuring spoons jangled against the counter. “Son of a poxy bitch.”
The thought of an intruder pawing over her precious equipment roused her to action.
“Stop, thief!” she cried, throwing open the door and brandishing her weapon.
A chair overturned, its thump punctuated by the sound of breaking glass.
Damn!
“Stop!” Rage made her reckless. Without thinking, Ciara charged across the threshold.
From out of the shadows, she saw a shape lunge for the open window. For a brief instant, a burly figure was silhouetted in the mizzled moonlight, then disappeared.
“Milady!” Still in his nightshirt, McCabe stumbled down the stairs, a cudgel in his hand.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes.” It was only now that Ciara realized how badly her hands were shaking. She set down the candlestick and drew a deep breath.
“I shall send Jeremiah for the magistrate immediately,” said the butler. His brow furrowed as he watched her strike a flint to the oil lamp inside the doorway. “Er, perhaps you ought to wait until help arrives.”
“Whoever was here, he is gone now.” She stepped over the broken beaker, anxious to check on her microscope.
Thank God, no damage done. Breathing a sigh of relief, she moved down the counter, carefully checking that all was in order. It was odd that someone would target this house, this room. There was nothing of real value for a common thief to pawn at a flash house.
It wasn’t until she turned the corner that she spied the papers strewn on the floor. The neat stack of books on her blotter lay in disarray, and by the look of the open drawers, her desk had been searched.
Staring down at the muddy footprints, Ciara expelled a harried sigh. In the swirl of the storm, the intruder must have mistaken her townhouse for one of her wealthy neighbors. Bad luck—but it could have been worse. She set about straightening her work. At least she had scared him off before he could do any real damage.
“What!” Lucas let the library door bang shut behind him. Seeing Henry with a lady at this hour of the morning was a bit of a shock. But it was his uncle’s announcement rather than his breakfast companion that froze him in his tracks.
“Lady Ariel just arrived a few minutes ago to tell me the news,” replied Henry. “Apparently someone broke into Lady Sheffield’s townhouse last night, but she managed to scare him off.”
“No harm done,” added Ariel. “I rushed over to check on her as soon as I received her note, but Ciara is fine and nothing was taken. She was awake at the time and heard a noise in her laboratory, so she went to investigate.”
A wave of cold fury washed over him, and then his face was sheened in sweat. The idea of Ciara alone and at the mercy of an intruder made him feel nauseous.
“Her presence must have scared off the thief,” finished Ariel.
Lucas tried to calm himself with a deep breath. “That was bloody stupid of her. He might have had a weapon.”
Ariel tactfully ignored the oath. “Yes, I wish she would not take such risks. But I suppose in the heat of the moment, she wasn’t thinking too clearly. Her scientific instruments and papers are very dear to her.”
“Her life ought to be even more precious,” he growled. “Damn it, she could have been hurt.”
“Pour yourself some brandy, Lucas,” said Henry softly.
“I don’t need a drink, I need a… plan.” He smacked a fist to his palm. “One that will keep Lady Sheffield safe from further threats until I can prove who all is behind these dastardly deeds and see that they are brought to justice.”
“Why, that is an excellent idea, Lord Hadley,” said Ariel. “Er, have you any suggestions?”
Pursing his lips, he began to pace the room. Damn. Surely he could come up with something. However, try as he might to concentrate on logistics and legalities, he kept thinking of Ciara.
Her face, her fears. Her eminent intellect, her unrestrained passion. She was so utterly unlike any woman he had ever met before. So utterly worthy of respect.
While he, on the other hand, had so little to be proud of. He found himself regretting his idle, rakehell existence. There wasn’t an accomplishment he could think of that might attract her admiration.
“My dear boy, much as I wish that we could look to Buddha for guidance, I fear that the statue can offer no words of wisdom,” murmured Henry. “Especially when you have its neck in a stranglehold.”
Lucas placed the jade carving back on the bookshelf. “Right. Much as I’d like to crack a few skulls, we must use brains rather than brawn to protect Ciara.” He took another turn by the hearth. “The attacks are getting more brazen. Whether real harm is intended, or Sheffield’s family is simply trying to intimidate her into acceding to their demands, we cannot take any more chances.”
His uncle nodded.
“So, first things first. We must remove her from London.”
“Yes, that makes a great deal of sense,” mused Henry.
Thus encouraged, he went on. “And we must ensure that she is not alone.”
Ariel clutched at her teaspoon. “Most definitely not alone.”
“The spot must be safe, secure.” Lucas pursed his lips. “I think I’ve come up with an idea…”
“It’s been decided—you can’t stay in London any longer.” Lucas marched into Ciara’s study and closed the door. “The risks have grown too great.”
Drawing in a sharp breath, she rose from her desk. Her nerves were already frayed, and his tone of command rubbed raw against her lingering fears. She needed someone at whom to lash out.
“You have no right to bark orders at me. Let me remind you that you are not yet my lord and master,” she snapped.
“And let me remind you that you are not yet free of suspicion for your late husband’s murder.” He scowled. “Damnation, don’t be a fool. Given the past rumors and current nasty innuendos, the authorities will be loath to take these threats against you seriously. And on your own, you cannot
force Sheffield’s family to back down.”
She refused to meet his gaze.
“I tell you again, the only sensible thing to do is to take refuge in the country. It will be far harder for anyone to make trouble for you at my estate in Derbyshire.”
Ciara knew that she was being irrational. Still, she set her jaw. “No.”
He muttered something under his breath. She thought she overheard “stubborn” and “arse” mixed in with an oath.
Mention of the word arse brought a rush of heat to her cheeks. “Blast it all, Hadley, aren’t we taking this charade a little too far? You have no real hold on me, you know.” Seeing a sardonic curl of his lips, she hastened to add, “And don’t you dare bring up what happened between us yesterday.”
For a moment, he looked blank. “Oh. That.”
Yes. That.
“I agree,” he continued in a brusque voice. “It has no bearing on the present situation.”
How was it that men could dismiss sex with a casual shrug? Seeing how little it mattered to him did nothing to improve her mood.
“Well, at least we are in accord on something.”
He looked at her a little strangely before resuming his gimlet glare. “You may be willing to risk your own neck, but what of Peregrine? Or have you forgotten that he may also be a target of attack?”
“That is a low blow, Hadley,” she whispered.
“I’ll stoop to any measure to get you to see reason.” His tone softened. “Damn it, Ciara, I am not trying to hurt you. I am trying to help you.”
“I know, I know.” She swallowed a sigh, unable to articulate why she was acting like a peagoose. He was right, of course. She couldn’t just stand by meekly while someone tried to harm her son. “Let me talk it over with my friends and get their advice,” she muttered.
“Lady Ariel already agrees with me,” he replied.
Her prickliness was back in a flash. “You went behind my back to conspire with her?”
He bristled at the accusation. “She was visiting Henry. Have you made up yet another new rule, one that says I cannot visit my uncle?”
She colored. “Forgive me. I—I am still a trifle overset.”
“With good reason,” he conceded, though his tone was a little stiff.
For a few moments, an uncomfortable silence hung between them, broken only by the ticking of the mantel clock.
“The Circle is scheduled to meet in an hour,” she said after a sidelong glance at the gilded hands. “I will let you know my final decision later this afternoon.”
He took up his hat and gloves from the side table. “Do.”
“So.” Alessandra added a splash of cream to her tea. “Lord Hadley wants you to seek refuge with him in the country?”
“Yes,” answered Ciara, rather hoping that her friend would voice an objection. “I know—it’s a bad idea.”
“On the contrary,” said Alessandra. “I think it an excellent plan.”
Ciara felt her face fall. “You do?”
“And I agree wholeheartedly.” Ariel pushed her spectacles up to the bridge of her nose. “Indeed, Sir Henry and I think there are a number of points in favor of Lord Hadley’s plan.”
“I didn’t realize that you and the baronet have become such bosom friends as to meet first thing in the morning.”
Her friend blushed. “Sir Henry and I have a mutual interest in Papervira. We talk about flowers.”
“And perhaps the birds and the bees?” quipped Alessandra.
Ariel’s face turned a vivid shade of scarlet. “Good heavens, I am far too old to succumb to girlish fantasies,” she stammered.
“Love knows no age,” teased Alessandra.
Seeing that the conversation was making Ariel acutely uncomfortable, Ciara quickly changed the subject back to her own dilemma. “Much as I hate to nip this conversation in the bud, I promised to give Hadley my answer later this afternoon. So I must make a decision about what I should do.”
“The country,” advised Alessandra. “Without delay.”
“But talk about gossip!” argued Ciara. “I can’t just fly off with the earl to his country manor.”
“Actually, Henry thinks it makes more sense to go to his own estate near Eastbourne. It’s far closer than Hadley’s lands, and the secluded location by the sea makes it a perfect retreat,” said Ariel. “As to propriety, we have already agreed that no tongues can wag if he and I go along as chaperones.” She thought for a moment. “What about you, Alessandra? I am sure that Ciara would welcome your company, too.”
“Me?” Alessandra’s usual mask of cool composure slipped ever so slightly. “I—I have a tentative engagement… however, I suppose I could change my plans.”
“Isabella would be a welcome playmate for Perry,” pointed out Ciara.
“Very well.” Her friend thought for a moment. “I suppose I can come for a week. After that, I really must return to London and prepare for my trip to Bath. I promised the Antiquities Society that I would spend several weeks there to help oversee the excavation of a newly discovered site of Roman ruins.”
“I don’t expect to stay sequestered for longer than a week,” muttered Ciara. “I refuse to remain a prisoner to fear indefinitely.”
“Until we have a better idea of what is going on, it is better to be safe than sorry,” said Ariel.
Somehow, the idea of living under the same roof as Hadley seemed… dangerous. But Ciara kept such sentiments to herself.
Alessandra put down her cup. “Hadley is taking charge of discovering who is responsible for the attacks?”
“Yes, and he’s enlisted some of his friends to help him. Lord Haddan and Lord Woodbridge are both former military men.” Ariel tapped her chin. “Come to think of it, so is Lord James.”
“The Prince of Darkness?” Alessandra rolled her eyes.
Ciara was puzzled. “I wasn’t aware that you had ever conversed with the gentleman.”
“We exchanged a few words when he was leaving your townhouse.” Alessandra slowly peeled a grape. “Had I known he spoke Italian, I might have phrased my sentiments a little differently.”
“Oh, dear,” murmured Ariel. “I hope you were not too rude.”
The shrug was eloquent in itself. “What was I to assume, seeing him storm out of Ciara’s door at that hour of the day? I do not believe in standing by meek as a mouse if someone is harassing my friend.” Alessandra popped the fruit into her mouth. “Perhaps it was not very ladylike of me to call him a goat’s penis, but there is something about the man that simply rubs me the wrong way.” After a tiny pause she added, “By the by, he knows a number of very naughty words in Roman slang.”
“I appreciate your loyalty, Alessa,” said Ciara. “But Lord James is on our side—or at least he is a neutral observer. I have enough enemies as it is.”
Ariel reached over to pat her hand. “Don’t worry,
my dear. Hadley and his friends will take care of everything.”
“Would that I felt the same confidence,” she murmured. However, as her own private doubts were far too hard to unravel at the moment, she chose not to elaborate. Seeing that Alessandra was about to speak, she quickly collected her notebooks and rose. “Well, seeing as we are settled on a course of action, I had best return home and start packing.”
Chapter Nineteen
A house party.” Jack looked skeptical as he followed Lucas out of White’s and into St. James’s Street. “You really think that wise?”
“It is not exactly meant to be all fun and games,” said Lucas defensively. “Lady Sheffield can’t stay alone in her townhouse, not after what happened last night. Her late husband’s family is getting more brazen.”
“Or more desperate,” said Jack.
Lucas quickened his pace and turned down one of the side streets. “The same thought has occurred to me, of course. But it doesn’t quite make sense. In many ways, time seems to favor Sheffield’s family. They can simply sit back and wait for their lethal lies to poiso
n Ciara.”
“Perhaps they fear that once she is remarried, and becomes reacquainted with the ton, it will not be so easy to slander her character.”
“But…” began Lucas.
“They don’t know the engagement is a sham,” Jack pointed out. They walked on in silence for a few strides before his friend asked, “Is there any reason they would break into her workroom?”
“Not really,” he answered. “She is working on deciphering an ancient manuscript, which may have some value for the government. But there is no way Sheffield’s family could know about that. Lady Ciara hasn’t told a soul, save for her scientific friends, who are very discreet.”
“And you?”
“Hell, no.” He hesitated. “Well, I might have hinted something of the sort to Ingalls, Greeley, and Farnam, but they promised to keep mum on the subject.”
Jack greeted the statement with a snort. “Are you daft? That trio of loose-lipped tattlemongers stay silent? By now, the news has been trumpeted all over Town with God knows how many embellishments.”
“It may have been a tactical error,” conceded Lucas. “But that’s yet another reason I need to get her away from London.” He consulted his list of items needed for the trip. “Why don’t you come join us for a few days? You’ve been spending too much time in the gaming hells lately. A breath of fresh air might do you good.”
“Spare me the lecture on virtuous living.” His friend made a face. “Who else is going?”
“My uncle and Lady Ariel Gracechurch have volunteered to serve as chaperones,” replied Lucas. “Oh, and the Marchesa della Giamatti.”
“The lady with the mouth,” muttered Jack.
Lucas grinned. “Aye, it is quite a lovely one.”
“What comes out of it could blister the paint off of a forty-gun frigate.”
“Lady Giamatti?” Lucas shook his head in disbelief. “You are exaggerating.”
His friend gave a baleful grimace. “Trust me, I am not.”
“Oh, come now, she’s the very picture of Renaissance refinement.”
“Don’t forget that the Renaissance included the likes of Machiavelli and the Borgias,” shot back Jack.
