The Perfect Seduction Page 23

  He laughed again and shook his head. "Carden's days as a rake are over. He just doesn't know it yet."

  She stared at him, not knowing what to think, what to believe, what to say.

  "Honestly, Seraphina. He's so in love with you he can't see straight. Which is the problem at the moment. He's so in love that he doesn't know that he's in love. Does that make any sense?"

  It did. And her heart so wanted to hope that it was true.

  But in knowing Carden, she also knew that hoping would only compound her folly and deepen the pain. Wisdom lay in accepting the truth. She wiped the last traces of tears from her cheeks, saying, "He doesn't love me, Aiden. He never will. He can’t!”

  "You're wrong, Seraphina," her companion countered, settling back into the seat beside her, his arm still comfortingly draped around her shoulder. "Barrett and I've been watching him tumble for you since the minute you walked into his life. He'll come around in the end. Trust us on this."

  "Trust you?" she said, confounded yet again. "If you're both so sure that he loves me, why have you both asked to escort me out? Don't you consider that a betrayal of your friendship and his feelings?"

  "You've accepted our invitations," he pointed out.

  "Don't you consider that a betrayal of your love?"

  Sera carefully chose her words, needing to explain but not wanting to bruise his pride. "If you're the only one in love, the only betrayal is of that of your own hope. And I was willing to do that to avoid embarrassing either you or Barrett by declining your invitations."

  He blinked and then knitted his brows. "You accepted out of pity?"

  "I didn't say that," she protested, knowing even as she did that she was splitting hairs. "I was concerned for your feelings."

  He tried to look injured, but couldn't control the smile tickling the corners of his mouth. "Well, whatever your motives, they're dovetailing perfectly with Lady Lansdown's plan."

  She started, once again caught off guard. "Honoria? Honoria has her fingers in this mess?" Sera closed her eyes, remembering the day Honoria had come upon them in the park. "I should have seen it," she muttered. "I shouldn't be the least bit surprised."

  "It's a good plan," Aiden assured her. "Really."

  She knew otherwise. "And just precisely what is this plan?" she asked. "What are you hoping to accomplish?"

  "Lady Lansdown proposed it the first night you were here and described it as 'time-honored.' It's a very simple one, actually. Barrett and I take you out and about and make Carden jealous enough to realize that he loves you."

  Oh, dear God. The plan had been put into play and the damage had already been done. Why hadn't she seen what was happening in time to put an end to it? Why, why, why?

  "And our part of it's working" very well," Aiden continued, apparently taking her horror for disbelief. "Carden was furious about your going out with me this evening.

  And when he found out yesterday afternoon that Barrett's escorting you to Lady Hatcher's ball ... I thought Carden was going to kill him right there on the spot. I really did."

  "Instead he came back to the house and we had a hideous row," she countered, angry that they'd been manipulated into a disaster. ''Whatever bridges we might have been able to build were burnt to ashes; Aiden."

  "A row over what?"

  There was no point in mincing words. "Thanks to Honoria's timeless, simple plan, it began with the fact that Barrett asked me to the ball and I accepted. It progressed from there, rather brutally, I might add, and ended when we arrived at bitter reality."

  "That bitter reality being ... ?" Aiden pressed. "Friends are honest with each other, Seraphina."

  But for the good, woefully obvious intentions of friends ... ''The truth is that I can't bear the thought of being a temporary lover and Carden can't bear the thought of being lovers forever."

  "And I don't suppose," he drawled, "that it occurred to either one of you to compromise and let love and time work things out between you?"

  Her anger fled, humiliated in the face of the memory.

  Carden standing there, offering her all he dared to give, more than he'd undoubtedly ever offered any woman. "He tried," she murmured, her heart tearing.

  Aiden sighed long and hard, then shifted on the seat beside her, withdrawing his arm from her shoulder to take her hands in his. "Seraphina," he said calmly but with great firmness, "there are no absolute certainties in life. If you don't risk anything, you risk everything."

  His words burrowed slowly, inexorably, into her heart and soul. If she didn't offer Carden her heart-and take the chance that he would break it - there would be no hope of his ever giving her his heart in return. Risk not, gain not. Risk greatly, gain the world.

  It was a simple, fundamental truth. And she would have never realized it had Aiden not laid it right in front of her and demanded that she open her eyes. She met his gaze, searching for the words to express the depth of her appreciation. "I know," he said quietly, his smile assured. "I'm not nearly as naive as I let most people think I am." His smile widened into a grin. "Which reminds me. Please don't ever, ever tell Carden that I put my arm around your shoulders or that I held your hands. If he finds out, you'll be able to bury what's left of me in your reticule."

  Yes, some woman, someday, was going to be very lucky, indeed. "The secret is safe with me," she promised.

  "It's the least I can do to thank you for your friendship and your wisdom."

  "You'll think on what I've said?"

  "Yes, Aiden. I already have."

  "Good," he declared happily, giving her hands a little squeeze before releasing them. "Now," he added as their driver opened the carriage door, "let's get this dinner done so you can go home and square things with Carden."

  Sera smiled as he stepped out and turned back to offer his hand. She took it, marveling at how smoothly he'd managed and timed their conversation. And to think that she'd once worried about what he might learn from Carden and Barrett. John Aiden Terrell was a masterful rogue in his own right. And while he'd used his skills to her incredible benefit this evening-for which she would be forever grateful-she couldn't help but feel a little sympathy for all the women who didn't see the danger he posed until it was far too late. God help the one who set out to settle him down.

  He froze in the doorway, only then remembering what Sera had said to him in parting. Any chance of backing away and escaping unnoticed was dashed when Bea glanced up and saw him standing there.

  "Hello, Uncle Carden!" she exclaimed. "Have you come to help us name the puppies?"

  Recovering quickly enough to smile and lie, he replied, "I thought it sounded like a wonderful way to pass the evening." He sucked in a deep breath and committed himself to getting through it. Sera had said Anne would be down shortly; the girls were already in their night rails and dressing gowns. Playing the good-natured uncle wouldn't delay him all that long.

  "How far have you gotten?" he asked, joining them on the floor beside the dog and her pups.

  Camille picked up one of the puppies and held it, fat little tummy toward him, saying, "We've decided that this one is Tippy because of the little white tip on his tail."

  It was a "her," but he didn't see any reason to correct the mistake. Tippy was one of those names that went perfectly well either way. "Very logical. It'll be easy to remember."

  Beatrice picked up another, and holding it the same way, announced, "And this one is Bootsie."

  "Because of the slightly darker feet," he guessed as he noted another significant feature. ''If I might make a small suggestion? It's a boy dog. With a name like Bootsie the other boy dogs are likely to pummel him. Maybe you could call him Boots so his life would be a little easier?"

  "Boots is fine with me," she said, silently looking between her sisters for approval. They nodded and she put Boats back in the bed with his mother.

  Carden scooped up one of the remaining three. "How about this one? What are you thinking for ... " He took a quick, discreet peek at its undersid
e. "Her?"

  "Miss Sera," Camille suggested. "Because her eyes are blue like Miss Sera's."

  "Puppies' eyes don't stay that color, sweetheart. In just a week or two they're going to turn brown."

  Camille's eyes widened. "Are Miss Sera's eyes going to change color, too?"

  "No. Sera is always going to have blue eyes." Beautiful blue eyes.

  "We could call her Fluffy," Amanda suggested.

  Camille looked at her sister and frowned. "Miss Sera?"

  "No, silly," Amanda countered, huffing in disdain and putting her hands on her waist. ''The puppy. Miss Sera isn't at all fluffy."

  No, never would anyone think to describe Seraphina as fluffy. She was beautiful, yes. She was intelligent and artistic, too. But deep down inside, she had a core of steel and a wanton streak that men would kill for the privilege of unleashing.

  "Tippy, Boots, and Fluffy," Beatrice said, interrupting his thoughts. ''That leaves these two and the mama. I think we should call one of them Lucky. They all are, you know."

  "How about this one?" Amanda suggested, scooping one up to hold it in front of her face and coo, "Hello, Lucky."

  Camille puckered her mouth and frowned for a moment before asking, "Is it a boy dog or a girl dog, Uncle Carden?"

  He considered Lucky to be in the same category as Tippy and he certainly didn't want to do anything that might-however innocently - prompt one of them to ask how he could tell the males from the females. "A girl," he guessed.

  "A girl named Lucky?" Beatrice said, her upper lip curling in obvious displeasure. "I wouldn't want to be named Lucky."

  "What about Lucky Lucy?" Amanda offered, turning the puppy in question to face her sister and inspection.

  Carden inwardly cringed. He'd guessed correctly. A female pup. Who was going to go through life with a strumpet's name if he didn't quickly make another suggestion.

  The problem was how to phrase it so he didn't have to explain matters he didn't want any of them to ever know about.

  Amanda turned the puppy so he could see the animal's poor little embarrassed face and asked, "Isn't Lucky Lucy a good name for her, Uncle Carden?"

  "It's a perfectly good one," he agreed, deciding that he'd shorten it to Lucy and hope the girls eventually did the same. Lucy was going to owe him for the rest of her life.

  ''That leaves this one," Camille announced, picking up the last puppy. She turned toward him with it-thank God, belly boldly first-and asked, "Is it a boy or a girl, Uncle Carden?"

  "It's another girl." He and Boots were severely outnumbered.

  They were going to have to stick together.

  "Let's call her Beauty," Bea proposed.

  Amanda snorted. ''That's a dumb name."

  "It is not."

  ''Then when we take her to the park," her elder sister retorted, ''you can call out 'Come here, Beauty!' and let people laugh at you."

  "Well, at least they'd laugh at me," Beatrice shot back.

  "They'd just feel sorry for-"

  "What about Furball?" Carden tossed out to derail the argument. "She's furry and shaped something like a ball."

  They all three looked at him as though he'd turned into the village idiot. Beatrice laid her hand on his knee and gently said, "I'm sorry, Uncle Carden, but that's what cats cough up."

  "She's red," he observed, hoping to improve their opinion of him. "Maybe we could just call her that. Red."

  Beatrice shook her head and curled her lip again. "One of the sailors on our ship was named Red." She looked between her sisters. "For his beard, remember?"

  Camille nodded and wrinkled her nose. "He always had stuff in it, Uncle Carden."

  He could imagine. Which he really preferred not to do.

  "It sounds most unappealing," he replied. "It's never wise to give something a name that reminds you of unpleasant people, places, or things."

  "Well, so much for Mr. Hopkins," Amanda said, throwing up her hands in a gesture that would have implied frustration if she hadn't been grinning.

  "And Lady Matthews," Camille contributed, putting her nose in the air and wiggling her shoulders.

  Beatrice stared off into the distance and very somberly said, "And definitely Mr. Treadwell."

  Camille froze. Amanda started, then gave Beatrice a quick shove in the shoulder before pinning his gaze and saying breezily, ''There were a great many unpleasant people in Belize, Uncle Carden."

  "Apparently," he said, thinking that Gerald Treadwell ranked as the most unpleasant.

  "I miss Belize," Camille admitted on a sigh, hugging the puppy close. "It was very pretty there. And warm and sunny."

  "Since you have good memories of Belize," he suggested, hoping to avert a slide into melancholy, "why not call the puppy that? Belize would be a good name, don't you think?"

  They instantly brightened and nodded and each took a turn petting the shiny red coat.

  Tippy, Boots, Fluffy, Lucy, and Belize. It had a cadence to it. As Camille put Belize back with her sisters and only brother, Carden reached out and began scratching the mother dog behind her ears. "What should we call the mama?"

  "Every time someone says 'mama,' " Camille said very quietly, "I think of Mama and Papa and miss them all over again."

  "Me, too," Bea whispered.

  Afraid that they were about to dissolve into tears, he hastily offered the first alternative that popped into his brain. "We could call her Queenie."

  ''Why?'' Camille asked, her grief mercifully evaporated by curiosity.

  "I don't know. Lots of people name their female dogs Queenie."

  “The queen's name is Victoria," Bea mused.

  "I don't think she'd be flattered," he countered. Ruffling the fur on the dog's head, he said, "Patience, girl.

  We're working on it."

  "Patience!" Amanda exclaimed. ''That's perfect!"

  Bea grinned from ear to ear. "And the next time Miss Sera tells us that we have no patience, we can say, 'Yes we do!' "

  "How long till she comes back, Uncle Carden?" Camille asked, wiggling and clapping her hands. "How long?"

  "It will be a while. I think you're going to have to be ... " He paused and looked pointedly between them, struggling to contain his grin. "Patient."

  They groaned in unison.

  "Patience is a virtue," he laughingly reminded them.

  Amanda clutched her stomach and groaned, "I'm going to retch."

  "Well, do it in your room," he chuckled as the upstairs maid stepped into the kitchen doorway. "Anne's here to see you tucked in."

  They scrambled to their feet and each planted a quick kiss on his cheek before bounding off. "Good night, ladies," he called after them.

  Amanda paused in the shadows of the dining room, then turned and came back to the doorway. "I miss Mama and Papa, too, but not always," she said, her expression so solemn that she suddenly seemed far older than her years. "Sometimes, with you and Miss Sera, it feels very much as though we're still a whole family. Good night, Uncle Carden."

  "Good night, Amanda."

  With you and Miss Sera … Carden sighed and climbed to his feet. It had been a smoothly executed ploy, but if Amanda had had any deliberate thoughts of it being sufficient to keep him at home tonight, then she really needed to learn something about-

  "No, on second thought," he muttered, heading for the larder, "Amanda doesn't need to know anything about the needs of men."

  CHAPTER I7

  He found a chunk of cheese and slab of roast apparently left from dinner and took them to the butcher block in the center of the kitchen. By the time he'd pulled a knife from the slotted holder, the dog was at his side, her puppies temporarily abandoned in the hope of sharing his impromptu meal.

  He cut two slices of the roast, tossed one in the air, and popped the other into his mouth with a smile as the first was seized-and consumed-before it even came close to hitting the floor. Two more slices of roast and six of cheese followed after that.

  He was slicing another chunk of the r
oast and thinking about seeing if he could make Patience do a half-turn in the air for it when she suddenly looked at the back door, her ears perked forward. He listened with her and watched her hackles slowly rise. She was growling quietly, low in her throat until the knock came, and then the growl became a furious bark as she charged the door on stiff forelegs.

  Through the glass he could see the unmistakable outline of Barrett Stanbridge. Holding Patience by the scruff, he opened the door and then dragged her back to the central table, saying over his shoulder, "She appears to be an excellent judge of character." He'd no sooner uttered the words than Patience eyed the roast on the table and settled with a hopeful look in her eyes.

  Barrett smiled. "I came by for three reasons. The first is to let you know that Reginald Carter has apparently gone to ground. Until recently he was living high and well in a Chelsea townhouse. According to his staff, he walked out the door the morning before last and they haven't seen or heard from him since. My guess is he's gone into the no-man's-land of Newcastle or Southwark. It's going to be the devil to find him, but I've got good men on the task."

  "I don't care what it costs," Carden said, flinging a slice of meat for Patience. "I want him found."

  "It won't cost you anything until he is. I don't pay men for looking, just for finding. It tends to motivate them to get the job done efficiently."

  Perfectly sensible. He hoped Barrett's men were either the greedy sort or had a lot of mouths to feed at home.

  "And the second reason you're here?"

  "I went by the club this evening and had a drink or two with Rob Tompkins."

  "I had drink or two with him this afternoon," Carden shared, slicing himself another bite of the roast. "Was he still upright? Still sobbing into his cups?"

  "He was not only upright, but quite happy, actually. He said you'd agreed to come look at the problems they're having with a patch of the underground, that you'd taken the drawings from him and were going to go over them."

  "He was so miserable I took pity on him. They're on my desk."

  "I just wanted to say that I'm glad to hear it, Card. You're wasting your talent on conservatories."