The Perfect Seduction Read online

They'd barely stepped into the foyer when she spoke.

  "May I ask you a question?"

  "Certainly. "

  "Do you squire every female guest about the public rooms of your home?"

  Carden grinned. "Only those who will be staying a while." He turned his head so that he could see her face as he added, "You're a member of a very select group. In fact, you're the only member."

  "How fortunate I am."

  Not that she actually thought so, he knew. There was a tension to her, a stiffness to the way she moved and held herself. He could feel it radiating out of her hand and into his arm. It was her good fortune that he was very skilled at melting ladies' tensions. "It's not every day that a man acquires a beautiful houseguest from Belize."

  "I'm originally from Jamaica," she clarified, ignoring the compliment. "My father undertook a research project III Belize and wanted Mother and I to join him."

  He knew he was being guided away from the truly personal, but since her past was something about which he was curious anyway, he obediently asked, "What sort of research?"

  "He was a botanist," she supplied, seeming to relax a bit. "Mother was largely disinterested in his work and so I - being too young to resist - was pressed into being his assistant. "

  Carden gestured as they passed a set of open doors.

  "As you no doubt recall, this is my study. And your late husband ... Was he a botanist, as well?"

  "No," she answered and then hesitated. After seeming to carefully decide on her words, she added, "He was something of an adventurer wrapped in a business suit."

  Ah, no great love lost. Just to be absolutely sure, though, he casually pressed, "I gather from your tone that the marriage wasn't an altogether happy one."

  "From what I've seen, few arranged marriages are," she countered noncommittally as he led her into the library.

  Or, more accurately, what was supposed to be a library.

  Drawing her arm from his, she stepped away to peruse the meager contents of the mahogany shelves. Without looking at him she said, "It's an interesting collection, Mr. Reeves."

  "Carden. "

  She turned her head and met his gaze. "I'm aware of that. I simply choose to ignore it."

  If she could choose to ignore an issue, then so could be. "As libraries go, mine is underwhelming. My friend Barrett has described it as being decidedly heavy on furniture and lean on books. You'll meet Barrett at dinner this evening."

  The look she shot him just before she turned back to the shelves said she knew he was playing a game of tit for tat. It also promised that she wouldn't abandon her commitment to formality. He watched as she trailed a fingertip over the leather spines of his collection. She had trUly beautiful hands, delicate and graceful. God, what he wouldn't give to have her draw such a line over his ribs and down the length of his torso. The back of the sofa was high. He could stand behind her, slip his arms around her waist, and nibble at her delectable nape until she let him draw her to the sofa and lay her down. Assuming they could be reasonably quiet about it, no one passing by would even know they were there. Someday ...

  How soon? he wondered. How long would it take to melt her frosty, formal defenses? Not that time really mattered to him. He had enough experience with women to know that Seraphina Treadwell would be well worth whatever wait he had to endure.

  Still, betting was an enjoyable pastime and setting himself the challenge of meeting a deadline would make the seduction even more exciting. A week. Yes, he'd set his goal at one week. By Thursday next. she'd be in his bed.

  Happily and contentedly naked, her dark hair fanned -

  "It would appear," she said, shattering his fantasy, "that the vast majority of your books relate to mathematics and engineering of one sort or another."

  "Yes." He swallowed hard and stuffed his hands into his trouser pockets, casually blousing the drape of his Jacket. More interested in distracting than edifying her, he quickly added, "Those are my primary areas of academic interest. I'm an architect."

  "I surmised that earlier today," she said, nodding and offering him a tentative smile. "I saw the drawing on the easel in your study and the models on the shelves behind your desk. I noted that you had some bridges as well as houses."

  "I was an engineer in Her Majesty's Army for a time," he supplied with a dismissive shrug. "I'm assuming that you brought with you those books Arthur owned?"

  . "Yes. And my father's collection, as well." She gave him another of her faint, hesitant smiles. He was struggling against the Impulse to wrap her in his arms when she continued. "Neither is particularly large, of course.Quality books are something of a rarity in the farther corners of the empire. Arthur's library, in following his interests, centers around ancient history. I hope you'll be willing to find room in here for it?"

  "Of course," he answered. deciding he'd best move them along before temptation got the better of him. Presenting his ann again, he offered, "And obviously there's room to store your father's, as well. Presuming that your father's titles follow in his interests, it will round out the library quite nicely, won't it?"

  She closed the distance she'd put between them earlier saying, "There should be a sufficiently broad spectrum that the girls won't soon outgrow it."

  It pleased him that she didn't hesitate to slip her arm around his this time. It was a small step. but it was in a forward direction. "Have my nieces developed any pronounced intellectual interests as yet?" he asked, leading her out of the library and toward their next destination.

  "Beatrice definitely follows in her father's footsteps and call ably discuss both the ancient Egyptian and Sumerian cultures;' she explained her voice suddenly more animated than he'd ever heard it. "Camille, so far seems to be interested only in bugs and small- preferably furry animals. You'll be pleased to know that Amanda, like yourself, enjoys mathematics and the physical sciences."

  “Well. if nothing else, it should make for interesting dinner conversation," he laughingly observed, drawing her through the breakfast room. "And what are your interests, Seraphina?"

  "I draw and paint some."

  Ah, so very mundane. Every female over the age of twelve slapped thick layers of oil paint onto canvases and proudly called them landscapes. He'd truly expected Sera to enjoy diversions that were a bit more unconventIonal.

  "Perhaps you would show me some of your work," he suggested gallantly. As always. Women liked to have their talents praised. The honesty of it seemed to matter very little to them.

  "If you'd like."

  She had the most interesting ability to provide the expected, polite reply and yet-with the very same words fully convey her true thoughts. He didn't have the slightest doubt that she’d willingly share her artwork with him when - and only when-hell turned to ice. The why of her attitude intrigued him. Did she, unlike most women, know that she lacked talent? he wondered as he opened a door and withdrew his ann.

  Stepping aside to allow her to precede him, he considered yet another possibility. Her reluctance might come from the fact that her subjects were the sort that ladies didn't view in the company of gentlemen. Aiden's mother was an artist whose work had created something of a minor scandal. It could well be that Seraphina's work wasn't nearly as stodgy and banal as he'd presumed.

  "Oh, dear."

  For the second time in less than ten minutes, Carden found himself abruptly pulled from a pleasant fantasy. He blinked to bring reality into clearer focus. Sera was moving slowly down the center walkway of his conservatory, reaching out to gently touch the crisp, brown leaves that lined the path. It had all looked considerably greener the last time he'd been in here. Which, he realized, had been the day he'd taken possession of the house.

  Sera, examining one particularly' pathetic-looking specimen, made a whimpering sound that prompted him to explain. "The gardener remained in the employ of the former owners and departed when they did. I'm afraid that it's been somewhat neglected for the past few months."

  With a sigh, she let her h
ands fall to her sides. Turning a slow circle, her gaze passing over the whole of the disaster, she said, "You have a true gift for understatement, Mr. Reeves." .

  "Carden. Hiring a new gardener is next on my list of tasks," he hurried to assure her. "You seem to have some familiarity with conservatories ... Are there any partiCUlar qualifications for which I should be looking?"

  "An ability to work miracles would be nice," she quipped, pulling a dead leaf from a whole pot of them.

  She held it up for him to see, saying, "This was a very rare specimen, you know."

  Actually, he didn't. But he clearly understood that she considered the state of his conservatory to be indefensible.

  And him, for allowing it to happen, a criminal. A callously indifferent, cold-blooded plant killer.

  "Maybe a bit of water would bring it back?" he asked, hoping to redeem himself.

  "That along with some heat, some un shine, a good bit of bumus - rich soil, and a healthy seed." Shaking her head, she tossed the leaf aside and resumed her general survey of the greenhouse.

  "So in other words, one must simply start over."

  "Yes," she agreed, lifting the hem of her skirts and setting off for the far corner. "You are, however," she called over her shoulder as she went. "most fortunate in that I happen to have brought with me a good many of those particular seeds."

  He went after her. intrigued by the sudden change m her manner. If he hadn't seen it happen with his own eyes, he wouldn't have believed how instantly the coolly reserved woman had been transformed into a ... Well, a forest nymph.

  By the time he caught up with her, she was at the gardening bench, busily-and apparently quite happily sorting through a rather abused-looking collection of tools and pots.

  "I imagine that, as a botanist," he ventured, "your father made a collection of seeds and such things."

  "An extensive collection," she said, without looking away from her task. 'Were I so inclined. I could make a very profitable business out of supplying private conservatories throughout the whole of England."

  "You’ve given the matter some thought?" he asked. incredulous.

  She stopped her work and met his gaze squarely. "Yes. I was prepared to be dismissed after delivering the girls into your care. As it happens. over the years I've developed something of a fondness for eating on a regular basis.

  And I prefer to be independent if at all possible. Being at the mercy of another's good humor and whim is neither an enjoyable nor a secure state."

  "And yet you've agreed to stay with my nieces, to be in my employ," he observed. his curiosity stirred. "Why?"

  She shrugged and resumed her inventory. "I can pursue my own aspirations at any time. For now. caring for the girls is far more important. It would be selfish to abandon them when they so desperately need the comfort of the familiar. "

  "And when they no longer need the familiar, you'll leave them?"

  "I'll always be there for them should they need me Mr. Reeves. We've been through a great deal together. As they say, Our bonds have been forged in the fires of adversity. There will come a time when my daily presence m theIr lives won't be necessary, but even then they'll know how and where to find me should they need to."

  "You're a most practical woman."

  She nodded. "By necessity, Mr. Reeves."

  Slowly, pointedly, he said, "My name is Carden."

  With a heavy sigh, she laid aside a rusty little shovel and turned to him. "In addition to being practical, Mr. Reeves, I am also blunt. And bluntly speaking, I won't address you by your Christian name because you strike me as the kind of man who, once he's successfully wedged his foot in the door, promptly pushes the rest of himself through it."

  He leaned his hip against the edge of the table, crossed his arms over his chest and grinned. ''That was your idea of blunt?"

  Her hands. went to her hips and her chin came up. So dId the color' in her cheeks. ''To call you by your Christian name would remove barriers to intimacy that I prefer to leave in place."

  "Why?"

  "I'm a married woman."

  Damn, but he liked her spirit. "As I recall, you're a widow."

  "Be that as it may, I -"

  "Widows aren't held to the same social standards as wives."

  "Be that as it may, I am not in the habit of entering into temporary romantic liaisons."

  He looked off into the distance as though he were considering a monastic life of his own. After a long moment he drawled, "Define temporary."

  "Any time less than eternity."

  He cocked a brow 'and was about to remind her that less than forever could be a good thing - her marriage being a fairly obvious case in point - when he heard the unmistakable sound of a polite intrusion. Sera's gaze darted past him and to the left, suggesting that Sawyer was stepping from amidst the dead plants in that general direction.

  "Yes, Sawyer?" he asked on a sigh, not bothering to look over his shoulder.

  ''The carter has arrived with the belongings of Mrs. Treadwell and the young ladies, sir."

  ''Thank you, Sawyer," Sera said, brushing her hands clean over the table. "I'll attend to it immediately." She barely paused long enough to say, ''Thank you for the tour, Mr. Reeves. It was most enlightening," before she pulled her skirts aside and strode away. . .

  "Yes, it was, wasn't it?" he called after her, smiling, watching the taunting sway of fabric. In a fashionable dress, she'd turn male heads everywhere she went. He was going to have to make a point of confining her to the house for the, next few weeks or so.

  "Sir?"

  "Yes, Sawyer?" he asked, distracted.

  "Lady Lansdown is in the parlor."

  His stomach plummeted to the soles of his feet. "Honoria? Honoria is here?"

  "I believe that is what I said, sir."

  Carden swore and raked his fingers through his hair as his mind staggered through a maze of thoroughly unpleasant possibilities. "You didn't tell her about Arthur, did you?"

  "Of course not, sir," Sawyer replied, utterly unruffled by the crisis. "Your instructions were most specific."

  God help him if Honoria discovered the truth. She couldn't keep a secret to save her soul. Once she knew something, all of England did within the hour.

  "Shall I have Cook prepare for another dinner guest sir?”

  Oh. God. Dinner with Honoria. And Seraphina and the girls. Together. Carden swallowed and willed himself to take a breath, to accept his circumstances with dignity. "I don't see any polite way to avoid inviting her to stay. Do you?"

  "Very good, sir. I'll attend to it right away."

  Carden nodded, silently dismissing his man. Why the hell had Honoria come back to London? And chosen today of all days to call on him? Dinner was going to be a nightmare. If one of the girls offered so much as a single unguarded word ... "I'm buggered," Carden groaned.

  "Buggered."

  From the distance he heard Sawyer dryly reply, "Merely wishful thinking, sir."

  CHAPTER 5

  By the time the carters were through with their hauling, huffing, puffing, and swearing, it had been four o'clock and the schoolroom looked like a hundred Christmases and birthdays had dropped through the roof all at once.

  For the girls it had been a joyous celebration of arrival. A reunion of sorts. For her ... Nothing seemed to be where she remembered packing it. Everything needed to be opened and sorted and placed. And the instant the mantel clock had chimed six, she'd known that it had been a mistake to say they'd dine downstairs. But done was done and all she could do now was thread her way through the maze and manage the chaos so she and her charges would be ready to go in time.

  And it really wasn't going very well, Seraphina silently admitted as Camille turned her head-yet again-to see what her sisters were doing on the other side of the room.

  Fine auburn tendrils slipped through Sera's fingers.

  "Please, Camille," she pleaded in desperation. "Hold still and allow me to get this bow situated in the center of your head
."

  Camille whipped around to meet her gaze in the dressing mirror. Her grin was wide and too full of excitement to hold even the barest hint of apology.

  "I can't find my crinoline!" Amanda cried, causing Camille to instantly turn.

  As Camille's baby-fine hair slipped away, Sera stifled an exasperated sigh and asked with all the patience she could muster, "Have you looked in your trunk?"

  "Yes. I've looked everywhere and it's gone. Gone!"

  ''Well, look again," she countered. "I'm sure it's there somewhere. Did you lift anything to look toward the bottom of the trunk?"

  "No."

  ''Do you think that might be a strategy worth employing?"

  Amanda moaned and muttered but bent over to do as suggested. Camille's gaze came back to the mirror just as Beatrice bounded over a crate and came to a breathless halt beside them.

  ''There's a hole in the heel," she announced, lifting her stocking-encased arm for Sera to see her fingers protruding - and wildly wiggling - from a hole precisely where she'd said it was.

  "Well, for heaven's sake, don't make it any larger than it already is."

  "It's my best pair."

  "It's your only pair," Sera corrected absently, trying to gather the strands of Camille's wayward locks back into hand. "Please fetch my sewing basket and I'll dam it as soon as I've finished with your sister's hair."

  "And after you've found my crinoline."

  "Keep looking, Amanda. Camille, please sit still."

  "I could simply go without stockings this evening," Beatrice suggested, making a closer examination of the rend.

  "You simply could not. Now please stop picking at the threads and get the sewing basket as I asked."

  "Or," she said, backing up slightly and turning sideways, "I could just wear one and walk like this so no one would notice I didn't have two." She stepped toward Sera in slow, deliberate profile. Camille considered her sister with knitted brows and pursed lips.

  "They'd think you were either daft or deformed," Amanda declared, her hands on her waist, her search abandoned.

  "Don't you dare embarrass us."

  "Have you found your crinoline yet?" Sera asked, giving up hope for perfection and whipping the ribbon around what hair she still managed to hold.