A Taste of Temptation Page 8

  “What will happen to you if I marry? What about my helping you find Lord Pinkwater’s ghost?”

  Agatha’s eyes brightened. The concerned expression faded from her face and she picked up the teapot and poured a splash into her cup. “Oh, I will still need your help with that, my dear. I do believe Lord Pinkwater’s ghost is in Lord Dugdale’s house. I think he was disturbed that so many people were in the house when he sensed my presence last night and that’s why he caused the vase to fall. Don’t you think that’s why he didn’t show himself to either you or me?”

  “I don’t know,” Olivia said, feeling the weight of her intimate interlude with Lord Dugdale on her shoulders.

  “It will be different the next time I am in the house. I’m certain Lord Pinkwater will try to contact me again.”

  A funny feeling stole over Olivia, and she was beginning to have a vague apprehension that somehow her aunt had a grand scheme that Olivia didn’t understand.

  “Auntie, why do I get the feeling you might be pushing me into this marriage just so I can live in Lord Dugdale’s house and help you find that ghost?”

  “Heaven’s angels, Livy, that’s not true,” Agatha said adamantly, placing her cup on the table once more. “I’ve never heard anything so outrageous. I had no way of knowing that you and Lord Dugdale would end up in his chambers at the same time when I agreed you could go in search of Lord Pinkwater’s ghost. However, I do feel this was meant to be.”

  It was true that her aunt couldn’t have known that she and the earl would have a chance meeting in his rooms. And they wouldn’t have if Olivia hadn’t felt that mysterious pull to linger and look over his chamber rather than to leave immediately. If she hadn’t been overcome with the desire to touch his things, smell his soap, and feel his presence all around her, this wouldn’t have happened.

  No, she really couldn’t blame anyone but herself for this predicament. She hadn’t planned it, but it was her fault.

  “I’m insisting on this marriage partly as my duty to your mother and your father. It’s what they would have done. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t do this for you. I’ll see you wed, and then I’ll continue my search for Lord Pinkwater.”

  Olivia rose from the chair and walked over to the window and looked out. A sudden chill shook her body. She felt trapped.

  Was there any way she could avoid this marriage?

  ***

  A light rain fell on Andrew’s hat and his shoulders but he paid it no mind as he stepped down from his curricle in front of his town house. The gray afternoon matched his mood. It had been less than ten minutes since he left Miss Banning and Miss Loudermilk. Their leased abode was decidedly too close to his for comfort.

  There was no telling what those country-rustics might come up with next. Who the hell did they think they were to try to force him into marriage?

  “Relatives to the Duke of Norfolk,” he mumbled begrudgingly to himself as he strode up the walkway.

  Just his luck, he thought. They might as well be related to the prince himself. The cranky old duke didn’t approve of anything that went against convention. And the duke could make trouble for Andrew if he ever decided to take his place in Parliament or if there were ever any disputes about his lands or holdings.

  He was dealing with a beautiful, desirable, but devious young lady who was well-connected. He supposed he should feel privileged she chose him to try to leg-shackle, but her reasoning was too close for comfort for him to be amused or flattered.

  Miss Banning was a mixture of self-confidence, innocence, and audacity. And for some reason he was attracted to all three. She was definitely the kind of young lady he would have pursued if he were interested in giving up his bachelor status.

  He couldn’t help but wonder why she wanted to catch him in the parson’s mousetrap if she wanted the attention of another man. Andrew supposed she used the man waiting in Kent as a ruse so he would think she really didn’t want to marry him. The clever lady had thought of everything.

  Andrew sprinted up the steps and opened the front door of his Mayfair town house and stepped into the foyer. His gaze immediately scanned up to the landing where the heirloom vase used to sit. Thankfully a disaster had been avoided last night when the damned thing crashed. He hoped Whibbs had gotten to the bottom of who left the urn so close to the edge that it fell.

  He took off his damp hat, gloves, and cape just as Whibbs came walking into the vestibule. Whibbs had been his manservant, butler, and valet all neatly rolled into one for more than ten years. He was a short, efficient man with thin, graying hair. His round face made him appear heavier than he actually was.

  Whibbs was professional to a fault, keeping check on the housekeeper, the cook, the gardener, and the groom. Sometimes Andrew thought Whibbs must stand at the window and watch for his carriage to drive up because whenever Andrew came through the front door, his man was only a step or two away.

  “Good afternoon, my lord. I trust you had a pleasant afternoon.”

  “No, Whibbs, I didn’t,” Andrew said, having always felt comfortable saying whatever he pleased to his servant and having all trust it would never be repeated to anyone.

  “Then perhaps I made a mistake.”

  Whibbs picked up the wet coat and gloves from the foyer table where Andrew had laid them and draped them over his arm.

  The last thing Andrew needed was another disaster to deal with.

  “About what?”

  “A Mr. Howard Thompson is here to see you, your lordship. I told him you were out and I didn’t know when you were expected to return. He insisted he needed to talk and asked if he could wait for you. It appeared urgent so I showed him into the parlor. I’ll dismiss him right away.”

  “No, don’t. You did the right thing. I want to see Thompson. Give me a minute to get to my desk and then show him in.”

  Whibbs nodded once. “Yes, my lord.”

  Andrew walked into his book room and sat down at his desk. He reached into a drawer and pulled out a folder with the name Willard Hawkins marked on it. He hoped the Runner had some good news for him about the man’s whereabouts. After last night and his visit with Miss Banning and Miss Loudermilk a few minutes ago, he could use some.

  Those two ladies were hell-bent on upsetting his well-planned life. He hadn’t come back from a quiet year in the countryside to spend a quiet life in London. He was ready to resume his life as London’s premier rake.

  A couple of minutes later, Whibbs showed the Runner into the book room, where Andrew spent the majority of his time in his house when he wasn’t sleeping.

  Thompson was a tall, broad-shouldered fellow with a full head of dark brown hair and not a wrinkle in his face even though Andrew knew him to be past fifty. Andrew had been most impressed with the Runner’s knowledge of how to find a person who didn’t want to be found and the fact that he had several men working for him who could search for Hawkins.

  Andrew had talked with three different men before settling on Thompson as the person best able to nab the man who had embezzled from the estate for the better part of five years.

  “Have a seat,” Andrew said, pointing to the wide-striped upholstered chair in front of his desk. “Would you care for something to drink?”

  “No, thank you, my lord, I’m fine.”

  Andrew gave the nod to Whibbs that he could leave, then immediately said to Thompson, “Tell me what you have for me.”

  “Nothing, I’m afraid,” Thompson said with all the self-confidence of a man who’d had complete success.

  “Then what the hell are you doing here?” Andrew said, a bit more angrily than he intended, but his frustration was running high.

  Thompson’s wide-set eyes showed no sign of offense at Andrew’s irritation as he said, “We’ve been in Derbyshire over a week. We’re watching the house where Mr. Hawkins’s mother lives and keeping watch a
t the taverns and inns, but so far there hasn’t been any sight of him.”

  “That’s not what I wanted to hear.”

  “I know that, my lord. I’ve stationed men at all three homes where Hawkins has relatives. There have been no reports of anyone coming and going except the people who live at the houses. If he is holed up in any of them, he’s not coming out and showing his face.”

  Andrew made a low sound in his throat that he realized sounded like a growl. Thompson didn’t flinch. Andrew liked the fact that he didn’t intimidate the Runner. That meant Hawkins wouldn’t either.

  “Maybe your men are missing him. He could be disguising himself and coming and going at will,” Andrew said, knowing that was highly unlikely as soon as the words were out of his mouth.

  “I don’t think so,” Thompson said. “Hawkins is well known in the area. I realize we’ve only watched the houses for a few days and he could still turn up. If he’s in Derbyshire he’ll have to show his face sooner or later and we’ll get him, but I’m beginning to think he left the area.”

  “You stand by the trustworthiness of your men on their watch?”

  “I do,” Thompson said, not backing down an inch. “I hire only the best. You mentioned that Hawkins had been stealing from you for years. Have you given thought to the idea that he might leave the country and make a new life for himself abroad?”

  “With the money he stole from me? I suppose that’s a possibility. In the months I stayed at my home in Derbyshire I heard talk that he gambled heavily. If that’s true, I’m not sure he had enough blunt to get very far.”

  “I’ll see what I can find out about any debts he left owing or if anyone owes him.”

  Andrew nodded. “That might give you some lead as to his whereabouts.”

  “I’d also like to have your permission to widen my search and check out other towns, the hells of London, and even some of the seaports to see if anyone remembers him boarding a ship.”

  Andrew hadn’t forgotten what it felt like when Hawkins’s shot grazed his arm.

  “By all means, Thompson, do whatever you must. I don’t care if you have to bribe one of the scoundrel’s family members to tell you where he is. I want the man found.”

  “Thank you, my lord. I’ll get right on it.”

  “Stay in touch.”

  Andrew looked up and saw Whibbs waiting in the doorway. He nodded for him to enter and speak.

  “The Viscountess Collingsworth has arrived and would like to speak to you, sir. She’s waiting in the parlor.”

  Andrew let out a heavy sigh and whispered a curse under his breath. He didn’t have to wonder what his aunt wanted to talk about. He might as well see her and get it over with.

  “After you’ve shown Thompson out, tell her ladyship I’ll be right in.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  His aunt couldn’t possibly have had time to talk to Miss Loudermilk and then get here, but no doubt she wanted to discuss what happened at the party last night, especially since she had been his hostess for the evening.

  Aunt Claude was the matriarch of the family, and she wore her well-earned title with strength. Getting caught with a young lady in his room was not the kind of thing she wanted to happen, but then neither had he.

  As much as he hated to do it, he had to face the fact that for the first time in his life a lady had outsmarted him. He didn’t know if she was a trickster or a lunatic—neither of which he wanted to marry.

  And he had to decide what he was going to do about it.

  Seven

  Andrew walked into the parlor and Claudette rose to greet him. He took her hands in his and kissed the backs of both palms.

  “Don’t tell me you’ve come so I can take you on a ride in the park because you’ve rejected all the handsome suitors who are vying for your hand.”

  Claudette smiled graciously at him, and then laughed. “If only that were true, but no, I’ve come on a much more important matter than the possibility of a fourth husband for me.”

  Andrew folded his arms across his chest and pretended to study what she’d said. His aunt was short and thin, but when she spoke everyone in the family listened. Watching her laughing face, he could see why even at her age men still wanted to pursue her. She had that unique combination of femininity and strength, the same qualities he saw in Miss Banning.

  “Let me guess. Does your visit have anything to do with a certain young lady in the care of Miss Loudermilk?”

  Claudette took a seat again on the settee. “Of course, why else would I come out on a rainy afternoon? You know how I hate to get my feet wet. I had a note from Agatha today asking me to visit her.”

  “So you haven’t seen Miss Loudermilk?”

  “No, I wanted to speak with you first. Pour me a splash of that good port you have, will you, dear?”

  Andrew walked over to the rosewood side table that stretched against the back wall. His Aunt Claude usually had a sip or two of the fine, expensive combination of wine and brandy with him every time she visited.

  “I can tell you what she wants,” Andrew said as he filled two glasses with the port that was more brandy than wine. “She wants me to marry her niece.”

  “Of course she does. It’s inferred because you were alone with her in your chamber. I always knew your recklessness would catch up to you one day. It was only a matter of time.”

  He handed her a glass and sat down beside her. He sipped from his glass with confidence and then said, “I’m not married yet.”

  “I’m here to tell you that it has to be.”

  Anger at being duped welled up in him again. “She designed our meeting in my room.”

  “Say what you will, but she couldn’t have done it without your help. Even so, you must marry the girl.”

  So much for his aunt’s beating around the bush. She came right out with the hatchet.

  Andrew drank from his glass again. He held the strong wine in his mouth for a moment before swallowing. “No. There are things you don’t know about her.”

  “She’s from an excellent family with ties to the Duke of Norfolk.”

  “So I’ve heard,” he grumbled.

  “So what else is there to know? There’s never been a hint of scandal about her. I’m hoping when I go see Agatha I can tell her you will do what’s right by her niece and marry her.”

  “No.”

  Claudette’s voice remained calm even though he sensed she was getting agitated. “It’s in the scandal sheets, Andrew. Dorothy must have been the one to have told the gossipmongers. That sweet Lady Lynette wouldn’t dare breathe a word of gossip to anyone, but it’s only a matter of time before Miss Banning’s name is whispered behind fans.”

  “I gave up long ago trying to find out how they got their gossip or even caring. But you asked what else there is to know about Miss Banning. I’ll tell you. I think she’s addled or simpleminded or something, because she’s obviously not in her right mind.”

  “What are you talking about? I’ve talked to her. She’s as sane as you or I.”

  “When I found her in my room she told me she was looking for a ghost.”

  His aunt’s amusement started with a slow smile lifting her lips at the corners, which quickly erupted into soft, comfortable laughter that grated on Andrew’s tenuous hold on his anger.

  He tried not to show his annoyance. He had no appreciation for being anyone’s entertainment, including his favorite aunt.

  Grimly he said, “If Miss Banning spoke the truth and she’s a ghost hunter, don’t you find that peculiar behavior? How can I marry a young woman who is not right in the mind?”

  “We’re not talking about you, Andrew. We’re talking about her. It’s her reputation that’s damaged, not yours.”

  The reminder sobered him and he set his port aside. His aunt would be one hundred percent right had it no
t been for the fact the young lady had been ruined by her own design. Once they were seen alone in his bedchamber she was accused.

  “And if looking for a ghost is all that is stopping you from doing the right thing, forget about it,” Claudette said, with a bit of a sly grin on her lips. “Looking for someone from the spirit world does not make her weak in the mind any more than looking for a fourth husband makes me a madwoman, as some of my dear friends accuse me of being.”

  “I’m serious, Aunt Claude.”

  “So am I,” she said, although the amused smile lingered on her lips. “Half the members of the ton have either looked for a ghost or claim to have seen one.”

  “I have to think about heirs. Miss Banning could truly be mad,” he said, not that he really believed that. Her wit had been too sharp and her self-confidence too high for her to be weak in the mind. He didn’t believe she was insane any more than his aunt did, but he still didn’t want to marry the scheming Miss Banning.

  “And so could your friends be mad in the head, but they’re not, and neither is she. I can’t believe you are even bringing such a thing up. Don’t you remember when Lord Dunraven thought a priceless golden raven had been stolen by Lord Pinkwater’s ghost?”

  “Members of the ton thought that, not Chandler.”

  His aunt gave him a look that let him know she didn’t believe him and then continued. “And just last year Lord Chatwin thought a ghost had spooked his horse and then rode off on it. I believe it was Lady Veronica’s ghost. No, my dear, belief in the spirit world does not a simpleton nor a madwoman make.”

  Andrew laughed, amused that his aunt remembered the rumors and gossip of the past and not the facts. She had made her point well.

  His good friend Chandler had never thought a ghost had stolen the raven but somehow the story had gotten started among the ton and it made good fodder for the gossip columns. And Andrew knew for a fact that it was no ghost that rode atop John’s horse. In fact, the lady who rode his horse that early morn a year ago later became his wife, yet rumors still lingered that a ghost had once ridden John’s horse.