The Perfect Seduction Read online

  "I'm flattered that everyone thinks so highly of my work, but they're just pictures."

  "Pictures that every publisher in town will want," he countered, finding her humility refreshing. "By sundown tomorrow the word will have rippled forth and you'll have at least two confidentially submitted offers by the end of the week."

  "But they won't know anything of the quality of the work or of how many pictures the collection contains. They'd be bidding blindly."

  '''!be quality is certain and the number doesn't matter," he assured her. "What does matter is that they take the publishing glory - and the profit - away from Somers. They'll simply offer to double or triple his best bid. Whatever it is."

  She frowned for a moment and looked up at the building they'd just left. "Carden? In general terms ... Just roughly estimating ... "

  He grinned, knowing that what she expected to be offered was only a fraction of what would eventually come her way. "At least five thousand pounds."

  "Honestly?"

  Such an innocent about some things, so wise beyond her years in others. Carden nodded. "Heaven only knows how many thousands Gerald's stolen over the last few years. Whether you ever see so much as a farthing of that, you're still a wealthy woman, Seraphina Baines Miller."

  She sighed and considered him with pursed lips. "Gerald isn't going to shrug his shoulders, walk off, and let me strip him of his gold mine. He'll go to drastic measures to protect it."

  ''The game is over," he countered, offering her his hand. Helping her into the carriage, he added, "Somers knows that he's not a legitimate agent, Sera. Gerald's financial river has already dried up and, try as he might, there's nothing he can do to make it flow again."

  "You don't know Gerald. I do," she protested from her seat. "Obviously he's willing to engage in forgery to achieve his goals. What's to prevent him from forging documents to support a claim of being my husband? If he-"

  "Sera, stop," he commanded from the walk. "You're torturing yourself. Not ten minutes ago you proved him to be liar, a thief, and a forger. Which, by the by, my dear, you accomplished in a single masterful stroke. I stand in awe of the smoothness of your execution."

  ''Thank you."

  "Gerald Treadwell. Reginald Carter. It doesn't make any difference what name he chooses to use," Carden went on, pulling up the curtain at the window. "He has no credibility.

  No one would believe anything the man said or accept as legitimate any document he produced. His game is up. You have nothing to be concerned about beyond where you're going to invest your great wealth."

  "What if he steps forward claiming to be my husband just to live with me, to have me support him?"

  He closed the door and leaned his forearms on the window edge. "Angel, if you say you've never seen the man before, who's going to take his word over yours?"

  "I'd be lying. That wouldn't be at all honorable, Carden."

  God, Sera was just too good to be true. "We're done discussing this."

  She considered him and the closed door. "Aren't you coming home?"

  "I'll leave you to your sorting and arranging," he replied.

  "Let the girls assist you. Have them help you think of ways to enjoy all that you've earned, Sera. I'll be back in time for dinner. You are not to give Gerald so much as a passing thought while I'm gone. Is that clear?"

  "Spoken like an earl."

  "Oh?" he countered, chuckling. "And just how many earls have you heard speak?"

  "Several. In Jamaica. They tend to pontificate wherever they go."

  He laughed outright and eased away from the door.

  "Enjoy yourself today, Sera. It's a new beginning for your life."

  "Where are you going, Carden?"

  "To my club. It's just around the comer."

  "To tell John Aiden of the famous artist living in your house?"

  He signaled his driver. "Something like that," he called as the coach began to ease its way into traffic.

  He stood there, smiling and watching until the carriage was swallowed up in the sea of other vehicles. Then he turned on his heel, let his smile disappear, and set out for his club knowing that if anyone would understand the necessity of retribution, it was Barrett Stanbridge.

  CHAPTER I5

  Barrett was with Aiden at the back of the club playing a game of chess and drinking. Carden glanced at the grandfather clock on his way through the maze of tables, thinking it was too early in the day for imbibing, and furrowed his brow. Half past noon? He detoured to the bar and ordered himself a double scotch.

  Aiden looked up and grinned as he approached. "Carden!

  This is a surprise. We thought you'd given us up.

  What brings you to the club today?"

  Barrett settled back in his chair and stretched his legs out under the table, saying, "He went with Seraphina to the publishing house this morning and discovered, just as we suspected last night, that something is rotten in London."

  Carden nodded, pulled up a chair, and sat. "I need your professional help." He couldn't resist taking a good-natured jab at his friend. "Assuming, of course, that you're free to take on an assignment."

  "I think I can fit you in," Barrett countered, chuckling.

  "Tell me what you learned at the publisher's."

  Carden drank a bit of scotch and considered the various ways of approaching the explanation. Not everything he'd learned recently had been in Somers's office. It didn't really matter where he'd found what kernel of information, though. What mattered was that he laid out what he knew in a fashion that formed the clearest picture. He looked between his two friends and decided that he might as well get the most central piece of the puzzle on the table straightaway.

  "First off," he said, unable to think of a way to gild the essential truth. "Sera isn't a widow."

  Aiden swore beneath his breath. Barrett took a sip of his whisky, then drawled, "Well, that slightly complicates your interest in her, doesn't it?"

  He bristled, resenting the suggestion that he was too shallow to understand that Sera was different from all the other women any of them had ever known. Sera wasn't just a conquest. And she wasn't going to be the subject of any men's club casual conversation, either. "My relationship with Sera is none of your concern. And it has absolutely nothing to do with why I'm here and what we're talking about."

  "No offense intended, Card," his friend offered in the way of apology. "I simply wanted to see the way the wind was blowing these days. I thought perhaps you might be developing some genuine feelings for Seraphina."

  "I haven't given it any thought," he countered curtly, drawing the line again. "Quite frankly, I don't have the time or inclination to do so at present. Sera's husband is here in London and he's been masquerading as her father's literary agent for the past three years."

  "And," Barrett supplied, "she hadn't heard of the publishing of the book or received any royalties because he's been stealing her blind from the very beginning."

  "A true prince among men," Aiden observed. "Do you have any idea of where the son of a bitch is?"

  Satisfied that they'd moved away from the consideration of Sera's worth, Carden relaxed into his chair and took a sip of his scotch. "No. But he's using the name Reginald Carter."

  Barrett nodded. "What does he look like?"

  "Seraphina described him as being reasonably handsome and charming when he chooses to be."

  ''That's half the men in London," Aiden groused.

  "How tall is he?" Barrett inquired. "What color are his eyes? His hair? Does he have any scars or peculiar habits?"

  Carden shrugged. "He's a mean drunk, a womanizer, and a sloppy forger."

  ''There's the other half of London," Aiden said with a sigh. ''This isn't going well, you know."

  Carden ignored him. "And he's an American. According to Seraphina, prior to arriving in Belize, he was a financier for a military adventurer, a fellow American named William Walker."

  "Walker?" Aiden repeated, his whisky glass frozen halfwa
y to his mouth. "The man's a lunatic. Persistent, determined, and dedicated to his grand and glorious dream. And a lunatic."

  Barrett shook his head. "Can't say that I've ever heard of him."

  Aiden quickly explained, "He puts together private armies and invades small countries along the Mosquito Coast in hopes of expanding the number of American slave states."

  "I gather," Barrett said, "he hasn't had any success to date."

  "None, despite two attempts."

  "He's apparently planning a third," Carden supplied.

  Aiden rolled his eyes. Barrett cocked a brow. "Sera says that one of his former associates came to Belize City and asked him to go back into the financing business on Walker's behalf and he accepted. That was just before he led Arthur and Mary off into the jungle."

  "Never to be seen again," Aiden finished darkly.

  Barrett stared at the far wall and chewed the inside of his cheek before saying, "The timing of it all is certainly interesting. "

  "Well, I'm relieved to hear that I'm not the only one whose suspicions were triggered."

  Aiden swirled the whisky in his glass. "So do you think Sera's money is being used to finance another Walker invasion?"

  "I think it's a distinct possibility," Carden conceded.

  "As is his keeping the money for himself. I'd be willing to wager on either. Scruples and loyalty don't seem to be his long suits."

  Barrett continued to stare at the wall. "He's not going to be all that difficult to find. I'll be able to shorten the time even more once Seraphina provides me with a more detailed physical description of him."

  "She's to know nothing of this," Carden instructed.

  "You're not to speak with her about it, Barrett. Not even in the vaguest of ways."

  Barrett's gaze slid to his. "This requires an explanation, you know."

  "She's afraid of him. At the slightest provocation, she obsesses over what he might do to her in order to keep his control of the money."

  Aiden snorted. "Well, I'd say she has just cause for concern, Carden. Greed can make men desperate. And there's nothing quite like carts of money to make them greedy. Don't you think Sera might be comforted to know that we intend to find the man and ... and ... "

  "A bit slow," Barrett drawled, shaking his head, "but he eventually catches up." His eyes darkened and the corners of his mouth deepened. "What do you intend to do when we find him?"

  In the blackest recesses of his heart, he wanted the man dead. The civilized part of his brain wanted him hauled into the dock and off to prison, publicly branded the scoundrel, thief, and murderer he was. But a larger and more demanding part of him wanted Sera happy and free as easily and quickly as possible. "I'm hoping to convince the lying bastard that his best interests lie in developing a sudden but very permanent case of amnesia."

  Barrett studied him for a long moment. "And if he refuses to be so pleasantly accommodating?"

  Then he'd have to choose between the dock and murder.

  "I'll cross that bridge when I come to it. And I'll cross it alone."

  Barrett's gaze slid away again. "We'll discuss it further should we find ourselves there. Another question, if I may?"

  That Barrett was seeking permission didn't bode well. The hairs on the back of his neck prickling, Carden asked, "Strictly professional?"

  "Highly personal, actually." He didn't give him time to refuse. "It concerns the issue Honoria raised the first night Sera was here. Everyone left my parents' dinner party last night gleeful at the prospect of being the one to tell others that the renowned artist Seraphina Baines Miller is in London."

  Aiden nodded. "I'd heard about it before I got to the club this morning and Barrett could fill me in on the details.

  My housekeeper told me before breakfast." Barrett let that sink in for just a moment before he continued, saying, "You know perfectly well what's going to happen, Carden. Just as it happened to you, before sundown tonight she'll have invitations to every significant social affair of the season."

  "Which," Carden snapped, not liking the conversational turn, "solves my problem of finding a suitable companion and hers of acquiring an escort."

  "I'll concede that positive consequence," Barrett said, lifting .his glass and studying the color of his whisky. "But it has some decidedly negative ones, as well. What was only a quiet problem when Seraphina was an unknown, unattached woman living under your roof will now become a huge public one. You know how people are, Carden.

  They'll assume the worst and the speculation will be vicious. Sera's reputation is going to be seriously damaged if you don't move to protect it. Don't you think it would be wise to move her and the girls into Honoria's townhouse as soon as possible?"

  Wisdom had nothing to do with it. He wanted Sera in his house where he could be with her without having to abide by socially established calling hours, where he didn't have to stand in a queue and beg for a few minutes of her time. Yes, it was selfish and no, he didn't care.

  "I'll think on it," he offered flatly, knowing he'd done all the thinking he was going to do on the matter. Sera was a delight and she was his and he wasn't giving her up.

  "You'll think on it?" Barrett growled. "What's there to think about? Why would you want her scandalized?"

  The speculation about the governess living under his roof would be forgotten in the scandal of a court trial and a divorce. Sera was damned if she did, damned if she didn't. It was only a matter of degrees. If she was with him, then he could at least hold her and help her endure it. He looked between his friends and something deep inside him cringed at the thought of being that honest with them.

  "We're collaborating on a conservatory plan," he offered, scrambling to think of anything that he could use to justify his decision. "Being in different residences would make it much more difficult to do. And then there are the puppies, too. Honoria's nose becomes a spigot whenever she's anywhere near dogs or cats. And her eyes swell 'up to give her a decidedly unattractive piggish look.

  She's never been able to tolerate animals in the house.

  The puppies couldn't go with the girls and they wouldn't leave without them."

  "Not that I mean to be unfeeling and inhumane," Aiden said, "but I think Seraphina's reputation should come before the care and feeding of rescued puppies."

  It did. Feeling a trap closing around him and desperately wanting out of it, he offered another flat pronouncement in the hope it would end the discussion. "I'll present the options and leave the decision up to Sera."

  "With all due respect," Barrett countered sharply, "Seraphina isn't at all capable of making an informed judgment on the matter. Yes, she has social graces. Yes, she's obviously been raised to be a gentlewoman. But she knows absolutely nothing about the expectations of the rarefied social world into which her celebrity is about to thrust her.

  "She honestly thinks that everyone-with the possible exception of her husband-is as good, open-hearted, kind, and generous as she is. They'll go after her for sport and she'll be devastated by the cruelty of it. No, you have to make the decision for her and there's only one you can reasonably make."

  Carden threw the rest of his scotch down his throat and rose to his feet, saying, "I'll explain it all so that she understands it clearly."

  Barrett snorted. "All the while assuring her that you'll protect her from the groundless accusations."

  They weren't entirely groundless. Not if hope counted for anything. If Sera came to him and asked to share his bed, he'd take her there and not think twice about it. And it would be a hell of a long time before he even considered letting her out of it, too. The world beyond them be damned.

  "You can't, you know," Aiden insisted. ''The more you defend her, the more guilty she'll appear. I really do think Barrett's right. She has to go to Honoria's. As much as I'm loath to admit it, in this situation appearance is everything."

  "Think of it as a personal challenge," Barrett added, his tone suddenly light and easy. "Seducing her while she's under y
our roof is really just too much like fishing in a barrel."

  It took conscious effort to keep his fists at his sides.

  Through clenched teeth, he warned, "You're about to cross the line, Barrett."

  "I'm aware of that," his friend retorted, meeting his gaze squarely and in open challenge. "And the choice to walk up to it is deliberate. You too could stand to make some deliberate choices of your own. Some selfless ones would be nice for a change. You don't have to make a lifelong habit of it if it chafes, but you really ought to give it a try just once. Just for Sera's sake."

  Barrett was his friend. They'd been through many a rough patch together. They owed each other their lives several times over. They could get through this contest and still be friends, but only if he resisted the urge to knock Barrett's teeth out. Carden took a step back. "If you have any real concern for Sera, you'll find her husband."

  Something akin to disdain flickered in Barrett's eyes.

  It was there in his voice as he said, "Falling in love isn't the worst thing that can happen to a man, Carden. Throwing it away is."

  "I am not falling in love," he declared, turning to leave.

  "Give Seraphina our best," Barrett taunted in parting.

  "Tell her," Aiden hastily added, "that I'm claiming the second dance with her at Lady Hatcher's ball."

  Carden stopped in his tracks, his mind racing through the implications. He turned back. ''The second?"

  Barrett lifted his glass in salute and smiled. "I have the first."

  It took every measure of his will and pride-every memory of what he owed Barrett Stanbridge - to keep his fists at his sides, then turn and walk away.

  Sera stepped back from the line of easels and squinted at the pictures she'd arranged along the trays. Too many reds, she decided. By the time her eye traveled the length of the row the individual features of each flower were becoming blurred, lost in the color similarities. Perhaps adding some yellows and oranges would break up the pattern sufficiently. Blues and violets would be even more dramatic, more effective. There were several particularly striking ones that would do nicely.