The Perfect Seduction Read online

  His hand cupped around her ann, Carden could feel Sera's trembling. Fear rippled through her voice as she asked, "What if someone has taken them?"

  "Why would anyone want to do that?" he countered, hoping she'd be soothed by his relative calm and rational approach.

  "I don't know. For ransom. To do unspeakable things to them. The world is full of crazy people, Carden.

  Haven't you noticed?"

  Yes, he had, but admitting it wasn't going to make her feel any better in the short term. He continued to make their way up the walk, his gaze darting among the passersby in search of three smaller ones who looked confused and lost.

  "The general lunatics confine themselves to Speakers Comer on the other side of the park," he offered Sera by way of reassurance as they went. ''The truly dangerous ones are locked up in Bedlam. No one's taken the girls, Sera." When they found the girls he was going to lock them up. And he wasn't going to let them out until their husbands came to beg for them.

  Sera stopped without warning and turned to look back.

  The haunted, anguished look in her eyes tore at his heart.

  He'd often heard the fathers who belonged to his club threaten to kill their children and he'd always considered it an appalling thing to say, a hallmark of a man who lacked reasonable self-control. But now he understood them and just how they could be driven to the brink of sanity·

  Still holding on to Sera's arm, he strained up on his toes and stretched his neck to see as far as he could. There were people on the bridge, others walking down the paths on either side of the river, a few picnicking with hampers along the banks on the far side and- He heaved a sigh of relief and pulled Sera around, slipped an ann around her shoulder, and leaned close so that she could sight along his extended arm.

  "Look, Sera!" he commanded. "Up by the bridge, just this side of it, a bit off the path. Do you see them? They're standing together. All three of them and they appear to be perfectly fine."

  ''Thank heavens," she whispered, sagging into him before apparently remembering where they were. She instantly straightened and stepped from his embrace to -gather her skirts in hand and set off in the direction of the bridge.

  "Of course," Carden said, as he strode at her side, his gaze fixed on his errant nieces, "they're not going to be perfectly fine for very much longer. Whatever it is that's enthralling them isn't excuse enough for frightening you.

  They were told very clearly not to wander off."

  "I certainly expected Amanda to have better sense and to take care of ... Carden? What is that man on the bridge doing?"

  He looked up from the girls to see a rag-dressed man holding a burlap bag over the edge of the bridge. A large, reddish dog was beside him, paws on the railing, frantically barking at the sack. As he watched, the man shoved the dog aside and released his hold on the sack. Sera faltered and choked on a cry.

  "Jesus Christ."

  The bag hit the water with a splash even as Sera, hems held high, dashed toward the horrific scene yelling, "Amanda! No! Don't!"

  Carden looked past her just in time to see Amanda knife into the surface of the water, her hooped crinoline and skirts a huge bell billowing behind her. It was only a matter of time before they flipped up over her head. And once they did ... His heart rammed high in his throat, he took off running, precious seconds clicking away in his head.

  Sera fought back tears and burgeoning panic. With every step she took, her dress grew heavier, her corset tighter. She couldn't draw breath deep enough or fast enough and the world was going gray around the edges.

  Reality came in fractured snippets; the smooth surface of water where Amanda had disappeared, the girls' abandoned hoops in the grass, the sound of Beatrice and Camille screaming, a dog barking, uneven ground beneath her feet. Carden.

  Carden was there, ahead of her, on the bank, flinging aside his walking stick, his boots, his coat. Then he arced out over the water and was gone. Her heart hammering against her breast, her pulse thundering in her ears, Sera reached the bank and stopped, greedily dragging all the air she could into her burning lungs and willing the tendrils of fog from her vision. She had to find Beatrice and Camille, had to be ready to help Carden bring Amanda out of the river and onto the bank.

  "Miss Sera!"

  She whirled toward the sound of Beatrice's voice, grateful to hear it as strong and confident as always, even more grateful to see the child and her younger sister both apparently unharmed-being dragged toward her by a huge red dog tied to one end of a rope Beatrice held in her hand.

  She'd barely managed to take a single, mercifully steadying breath when both girls looked out into the river .. Sera spun about and then nearly collapsed in relief. Two dark heads had broken the surface of the water. Carden immediately brought his arm up, the sack clutched tight in his fist, then turned on his side and struck out for the bank. Amanda, unburdened by anything-including, apparently, the lower half of her dress-yelled for him to hurry and then followed, her strokes the sure and strong ones of a child who had grown up at the water's edge.

  Dropping down on the bank, Sera leaned out as far as she could and took the bag the instant it was within reach.

  Turning, she placed it on the grass and frantically struggled to untie the swollen cord binding it closed. "Get the puppies out of the sack!" Amanda cried as Carden shoved her up onto the bank. "Hurry! They're drowning!"

  Tiny, weak yips came from inside and the dog tore free of her young handler, rushing forward to nuzzle the sack and pound Sera with its tail. "Beatrice," she called, desperately trying to hold on to the loosened knot while pushing the dog out her way, "come get her. She's not helping. Carden, are you all right?"

  Water streaming down his face, he nodded crisply, climbed up onto the bank beside her, and instantly produced a short sword from the back of his waistband. "Let me at the sack, Sera."

  She obeyed and watched, wide-eyed, as he seized the top of the bag with one hand, drew it taut, and then lopped it off with a single swipe of the blade.

  As Sera and Amanda began the grisly task of sorting the living from the dead, Carden tossed the top away and sat back, sucking deep breaths and knowing just how damn lucky he was. If he hadn't been drawn into that little shop in Natal that morning ... If he hadn't been intrigUed enough with the secret sword to pay a king's ransom for it ...

  ''This one's moving and breathing," Sera cried, pulling a wet but wiggling mass of red fur from the bag and setting it in the grass beside her.

  Amanda lifted out a second puppy and gave it a cursory examination. "So's this one." She quickly placed it with its litter mate in the grass and reached back into the sack.

  ''This one makes three," Sera cried happily, setting it aside while reaching for another. The look that came suddenly to her eyes ... Carden knew before she got the animal out of the bag. "Oh, God, this one isn't," she said, her voice brittle as she held the limp little body up in front of her face. "Breathe, sweet pea," she begged. "Breathe for me, please."

  "Give him here, Sera."

  She handed the puppy to him as Amanda lifted another limp pup from the bag and wailed, "This is one isn't breathing, either!"

  "Like this, Amanda," he said calmly, gently holding the puppy up and covering its muzzle with his mouth. He blew a bit of air into the creature and then he eased back to add, "Very light and short. Just a puff. Remember that their lungs are tiny. Give them a chance between breaths to cough out the water."

  Amanda nodded and followed his instructions as Sera reached back into the sack, pulled out another still pup, and brought it to her mouth.

  "Miss Sera, are they going to be all right?" "We're doing our best, Camille," Sera replied between breaths.

  Amanda's puppy spewed water, coughed, spit out a few more drops, and kicked its feet. "He's breathing, Uncle Carden!"

  "So is this one," he declared, grinning as it gave a good, hard, healthy sneeze. ''That's a good girl," he said, leaning over to put it among the others squirming in the grass. "One mo
re back from the dead. How many more, Sera?" .

  "Just this one," she said tightly, her eyes clouded with dread. "I can't-"

  "Merciful heavens, Carden! What are you doing?"

  Honoria. Christ. Couldn't she make a reasonable deduction?

  Sera handed the limp puppy to him, blinking back tears.

  Blessedly, Camille bounded forward to provide her aunt with an explanation. "A mean man tried to drown puppies, Aunt Honoria! He put them in a sack and dropped them in the river. We saw him do it!"

  "And Amanda jumped in to save them," Beatrice contributed every bit as passionately. "Camille and I ran up and hit the man with our hoop sticks and took the mama dog away from him and he ran away."

  "And Uncle Carden came in after me and the puppies."

  "Some of them are drownded but Uncle Carden's making them breathe again and they'll be all right."

  He wasn't sure he was going to produce the full miracle they expected. The puppy in his hand was the smallest of the bunch and it wasn't coughing out the water as the others had. He tried again to force some air into its lungs.

  "Where is your skirt, Amanda?"

  "In the river," she replied matter-of-factly, watching him intently. "Uncle Carden had to cut it off me. It kept coming up over my head and I couldn't swim. Not that I was doing very well at it anyway with the bag in one hand."

  The color drained from Sera's face. Tears welled along her lower lashes and spilled down her cheeks. She didn't make a sound; she just closed her eyes and buried her face in her hands. He watched her rock back and forth as he tried one more time to bring the puppy back to life.

  "Is it breathing yet, Uncle Carden?"

  Damn, he hated to admit defeat. Knowing when to do so had been one of the hardest lessons in life he'd ever had to learn. That he was going to have to be the one to teach it to the girls ... "No, Bea, it isn't. I'm afraid that we weren't able to save this one."

  "It's dead?" Camille asked, her voice quavering.

  He heard the desperation in her question and wished with all his heart that he could give her the miracle she wanted. He remembered all too well how it felt to have hope crushed. "Yes, sweetheart. It’s dead," he said as gently as he could. "I'm so very sorry. '

  Amanda took the lifeless body from him and cradled it in her arms. "Poor little puppy," she crooned, smoothing the wet, rumpled fur. Tears rolled down her cheeks.

  Carden silently cursed the bastard who had created such suffering and sorrow. Wanting with every fiber 'of his being to give the son of a bitch a sound and thorough beating, be looked around, hoping to find the man lurking about. But if be was there somewhere, he was well hidden in the crowd of onlookers that ban gathered around them.

  The bloody ghouls, Carden silently, railed. Willing to gawk at tragedy but too proper and genteel to step in to avert it. Heaven forbid they should summon any courage.

  They'd left it to a child.

  "Bea," he heard Sera say softly, "you may let the mama go now. She needs to be with her babies."

  Beatrice did as instructed and the dog instantly went to her surviving puppies, sniffing them, nudging them. Camille and Bea quietly went to their sister's side, knelt down, and reverently touched the lost little soul. Bea's eyes blazed in silent rage as they welled with tears. Camille's lips quivered for a second and then parted to emit a wracking sob. Sera rose to her knees and gathered them into her arms and held them tight.

  He couldn't take any more. Swallowing down the prickly lump in his throat, Carden pushed himself to his feet and retrieved his coat and the shell of his walking stick. Sheathing his small sword in the latter instantly brought Sera's gaze up to meet his. She looked so young, so very vulnerable, so determined to be strong and brave.

  Something deep inside him twisted and be tore his gaze from hers, trying to make the pain go away.

  It was still there as he draped his coat over Amanda's shoulders and Camille said softly, ''We have to have a funeral."

  A funeral? His heart lurched and then sank into his stomach. Oh, Jesu . No, not a funeral.

  "Of course we do," Sera agreed, releasing Bea and Camille to scrub her cheeks with the palms of her hands.

  "I’m sure there's a place in Uncle Carden's garden that the puppy will like." She unbuttoned her jacket and shrugged out of it, adding, "Now let's get these poor little creatures home so that we can see them dried and warmed.

  We' ll put them in this and let Uncle Carden carry them to the carriage for us."

  "You're coming to the funeral, aren't you, Aunt Honoria?"

  Camille asked as the others placed the surviving puppies into Sera's satin-lined jacket.

  Honoria dabbed at her nose with a lace-edged handkerchief.

  "Only if no animals attend."

  Christ on a crutch. It was a family affair? Would the staff be invited, too? His stomach clenching he decided that the only thing to do was expedite the matter. The sooner it was done, the sooner he could drown his demons.

  "Honoria, may Beatrice and Camille ride back to the house with you?" he asked, tucking his walking stick under his ann before scooping up the jacket and puppies and more than a few blades of grass. "There won't be room in mine for all of us and the animals, too."

  "Thank you for not asking me to transport the dog."

  "I thought about it."

  "Of course you did. Come along, my dears," she said offering her hands. As the girls dutifully took them, she glanced between them and asked, "Now which of you is Beatrice and which is Camille?"

  Sera saw the sparkle in Beatrice's eyes and knew what the child intended to do. Under other circumstances, she would have intervened and spared Honoria the confusion.

  But she had other matters to attend at the moment, Bea wasn't wrapped in grief and anger, and Honoria needed to learn that her nieces were neither angels nor passive china dolls. No, Honoria was on her own.

  And so was she, she realized with a start. Carden was heading toward the fountains and their waiting carriage. Amanda, awash in his coat, was going with him, still carrying the lost puppy in the cradle of one arm. The mother dog trotted along between them, her attention on her puppies and her makeshift leash trailing along the path behind her.

  "Never mind me," Sera muttered with a dry chuckle.

  "I'll be along." As though he'd heard her, Carden stopped and turned back to watch and wait for her, a chagrined smile quirking up one comer of his mouth.

  Sera quickly gathered the girls' abandoned hoops and sticks, retrieved Carden's boots, and then paused to glance around to see if she'd missed anything. What she saw were shoes, pant legs, and hems. A good number of them. And in something approximating a half-circle. She brought her gaze up, knowing and dreading what she would find.

  Yes, they'd drawn a sizable crowd. Which, thank heavens, seemed to have realized that the free show was over.

  As they turned and started off in their own directions, she did the same. She'd taken only a single step when a movement at the edge of her vision stopped her in her tracks.

  Her heart racing and her stomach cold, she turned to look squarely at the man. He was moving away, his stride long and deliberate, his head bowed and angled away from her.

  No, it wasn't possible, she told herself as she hurried to join Carden and Amanda. Her imagination had been overstimulated by the ordeal of the puppies. All those fears had simply allowed an older, stupidly persistent one to percolate to the surface. Gerald was dead.

  CHAPTER II

  Sawyer had warned him at the front door, but actually seeing John Aiden Terrell leaning against his desk-dry, clean, warm, wearing boots, holding a brandy glass in hand-and then-on top of all that-knowing why he was there ... There were limits to what a man ought to have to endure in the course of a single goddamned day.

  "Good Lord, Carden. What happened to you?"

  ''The door bell rang," he snarled, pouring himself a full glass of whiskey, "and I opened it to find Seraphina Treadwell standing on my step."

  "I
meant the sopping clothes."

  He tossed half the whiskey down his throat in one quick movement. The fire was still burning its way to his empty gullet when he answered, "And she had three little girls with her."

  Aiden was staring at him and he was throwing the other half after the first when Sawyer arrived, clearing his throat and then saying, "The Bible, sir."

  "Do you know where the ashes to ashes part is?" Carden asked, refilling his glass.

  "Of course, sir."

  He filled a second glass. "Good. I don't, so consider yourself temporarily ordained." Sawyer was standing there slack-jawed when Carden thrust the other glass into his free hand, saying, "Here, have a drink. You're going to need it. The crocodile tears and stoic sniffling will rip your heart out."

  Aiden straightened. "I gather there's been a death?"

  "Some bastard tried to drown a litter of pups in the Long Water,'" Carden answered as the first slug of whiskey connected with his senses. "We managed to save all but one of them."

  "Bully for you, Carden!"

  "Yes, indeed. Very well done, sir."

  "Well," he drawled as the second dose began to slide in over the first, "in a few moments, my one failure is going to be center stage. How goes the chaos, Sawyer?"

  "Lady Lansdown is in the parlor with a sherry, a fresh handkerchief, . and decidedly pink eyes. Anne brought down sheets and an old blanket out of which Mrs. Blaylock and Mrs. Treadwell are fashioning a bed to the side of the hearth for the dog and her remaining pups. Cook is heating water for baths-including one for the dog-and preparing a concoction he swears will have the animals as-he says-plump and pleased as piglets by sunset tonight."

  "And the girls?" he asked, the edges of his senses beginning to go very nicely numb.

  ''They have gone with Anne to find and prepare a suitable coffin, sir. I believe that once they conclude that task, they intend to select a site for the interment."

  With any luck, he'd be sufficiently fuzzy by then that he could get through it without being really conscious of anything in particular. "I suppose I should stand by with the shovel, shouldn't I?"

  Sawyer handed back the untouched glass of liquid memory-killer, saying, "I shall ascertain their progress in that direction, sir," and promptly left.