20


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In a velvet-draped bed in his mistress's extravagant suite at Parklands, the Earl of Claymont settled his head more deeply into the feather pillows. The room was a confection of pink and white, with ornate ivory and gilt furnishings, white and pink floral carpets, and pink velvet draperies.

Dylan had always felt ridiculously out of place in the overly feminine room. He wished instead they were comfortably ensconced in the big carved mahogany bed that had been in the master's suite at Claymont Hall for more than a hundred years.

Perhaps one day they would be, but he knew better than to pin his hopes on it.

"What are you thinking, darling?" Gabriella curled beside him, naked now, no longer wearing the sheer lace nightgown she had been wearing when she welcomed him into her bed. "You're a million miles away."

"What am I thinking?" He cocked a black, silver-touched eyebrow. "Aside from you and how much I enjoy making love to you? I was thinking of your niece… wondering if she is happy with her decision." It was true. He had been thinking of Vermillion off and on since the night she had journeyed from Parklands.

"Why, of course she is happy. How could she not be? Captain Tanner is obviously infatuated with her. He is bound to treat her very well."

"I suppose he will… as long as he is in London."

Gabriella rolled onto her side to face him, silvery blond hair spilling over a slender shoulder. "You don't think he'll be leaving anytime soon?"

"According to Oliver Wingate, Captain Tanner will be shipping out for Spain in less than two weeks."

"Oh, dear heavens."

"Wingate has made no secret of the matter and Lee's former suitors are all in a dither about it. You would think they would be discouraged, knowing she has obviously placed her affections somewhere else. Wingate is still furious, of course. Tanner is his subordinate, after all. As far as I'm concerned, the colonel is a pompous ass and I don't believe Vermillion ever seriously considered him."

"What about Lord Andrew? I've heard nothing of him since the ball."

"He was certainly in high dudgeon when he stormed out of the house that night—the lad is so bloody cocksure of himself. Now that he's had time to cool off a bit, I think he sees her as more of a challenge than ever. He'll be waiting at her door the instant Captain Tanner departs for Spain."

Gabriella scooted up against the ornate ivory headboard, propping herself against the pillows. "And Nash?"

"Jon isn't the sort of man to wear his emotions on his sleeve, but I'm certain he was very disappointed. Of all her admirers, Jon is the only one sincerely concerned with Lee's well-being." He cast Gabriella a glance. "He knew she was a virgin, you know."

Gabriella straightened. "What? He couldn't possibly have known."

"He knew because I told him."

"For heaven's sake, Dylan, why on earth would you do something like that?"

"Because I wanted her to be happy. I knew her innocence would appeal to Jon and that if she chose him he would treat her very well."

Instead of getting angry, Gabriella's expression softened. Leaning toward him, she brushed a light kiss over his lips. "You're a good man, Dylan Sommers."

"But you still won't marry me."

She only shook her head. In the light of the whale oil lamp next to the bed, her hair looked more silver than gold, and the pink of the draperies made her skin glow like roses. He couldn't remember a time he hadn't loved her. Before he had met her, he had loved her in his dreams.

"You know how I feel about marriage," she said. "Besides, it would hardly be fair to you. Your friends and family would spurn you. You would be banned from polite society."

"My true friends would be happy for me. As for Society… I'm an earl. You'd be amazed what a man of my wealth and position can do."

"We're happy, Dylan. If we married, things would change. We might lose the closeness we've shared all these years."

"Or we might grow even closer." But he knew she wouldn't relent. He wasn't exactly sure why. She had never said she loved him and perhaps it was as simple as that. Or perhaps she was afraid, as she had said, of destroying the special bond between them. Either way, he wouldn't press her. He wouldn't do anything that might cause him to lose her.

"I hope Vermillion will be all right," Gabriella said fretfully. "Perhaps after the captain leaves, she should move back in here for a while."

"She's in love with Tanner, you know."

Gabriella rolled her pretty blue eyes. "Don't be ridiculous." He noticed fine lines in the corners, knew how much she feared getting older, though to him she remained as lovely as she was the first time he had seen her.

"I'm afraid it's true. As much as you might wish your niece were more like you, she is different."

"She's infatuated with him. I don't believe she is in love with him. And if she were, how would you possibly know?"

Dylan gave her a tender smile. "I know, my love, because Lee looks at Caleb the way I look at you."


The evening was dark, the cobbled street slick with mist. On the corner, the sign for Wilton Street creaked in the wind sweeping in off the Thames. Somewhere in the distance, Lee heard the clatter of carriage wheels. Inside her suite at the Purley, Caleb sprawled in the comfortable bed across the way, naked beneath the sheet and sleeping soundly.

Lee glanced at the mound formed by his big body and thought of the hours they had spent making love, the several times he had brought her to fulfillment. Caleb was a skillful, considerate, extremely passionate lover, the sort of man her aunt would have wanted her to choose. He was kind and caring, solicitous of her wishes, and wildly protective of her.

He would have been the perfect choice—if she just hadn't fallen in love with him.

Her heart twisted painfully at the thought. How much longer did they have? Weeks? Months? Whatever time it was, it wouldn't be enough. She was deeply in love with him. She had never thought it would happen, worked to guard her heart, but it had happened just the same. She was in love with Caleb Tanner and more than anything in the world, she wanted him to love her in return.

I would marry you, Lee.

For an instant when he had said the words, her heart had simply turned over. But marriage had nothing at all to do with love—she knew that far better than most—and Caleb had spoken out of duty, a sense of responsibility that was completely and utterly Caleb and had nothing at all to do with whatever he might feel for her.

She told herself not to think about it and most of the time she succeeded. But not tonight.

Lee returned to her vigil at the window, gazing down at the mist-slick streets, wishing there was a way to change the way she felt, wishing Caleb didn't have to leave, wishing any number of things that hadn't the remotest chance of coming true.

The notion weighed her down and a feeling of hopelessness settled over her. Tired for the first time that night, she started to turn away from the window and return to bed when a movement below caught her eye.

In the shadows at the side of the building next to the hotel, she spotted the figure of a man. He was staring upward, toward the very place where she stood by the window, illuminated by the glow of a single burning candle.

Stepping back behind the curtain, she told herself she was mistaken, that the man was simply passing along the street and his presence had nothing to do with her, but an icy wariness trickled down her spine.

Lee blew out the candle. In the darkness, she inched nearer the window, looked down where the man had been standing, but there was no one there.

She should have been relieved that he was gone. She wasn't quite sure why she was not.


It was the afternoon of the following day that Lee returned to the house in Buford Street. Instructing the coachman to await her return, she waved a greeting to Helen Wilson, who stood on the front porch beside the open door. It was Lee's second visit to the house this week, but Helen's son, two-year-old Robbie, had come down with a pleurisy, an inflammation of the chest that kept him coughing all night, and Lee had returned to see if he had improved.

"I'm afraid he's the same," Helen said, her plump face lined with worry as she closed the door behind them. "He coughs and coughs. I'm just so worried about him."

"You mustn't fret, Helen. I stopped at the apothecary shop in Craven Street where my aunt usually trades. Mr. Dunworthy says there is some sort of illness going round. He says it is nothing to worry about. He sent some powdered mustard for a poultice along with these herbs." She handed Helen a small muslin bag. "It's a mixture of horehound, rue, and hyssop, combined with licorice and marshmallow roots. You're to place the herbs in a quart of water, boil it down to a pint, strain off the liquid, and give Robbie half a teaspoon of it every two hours."

Helen took the items with a grateful smile. "Thank you, Lee. It's hard when you're a mother. You worry about them constantly."

"I know it must be frightening whenever your child falls ill, but Mr. Dunworthy says he's seen a number of children lately with the same affliction and it doesn't last very long." She walked over to where the child lay sleeping beneath a soft woolen blanket on the sofa, his fat cheeks a little rosier than they should have been. "Is he running a fever, do you think?"

"I think he might be."

"Mr. Dunworthy says that's to be expected. He says the sickness seems to last about a week. Robbie should be better by then. Send word to me if he isn't and I'll get a physician to come round."

Helen took her hand. "You've a good heart, Lee. You always seem to be here when we need you. You'll never know how much your friendship has meant to me—to all of us." In a spontaneous moment, Helen leaned over and hugged her.

"You all mean a great deal to me as well."

Annie walked into the room just then. There were only four women now in the house and though it should have made things easier, Mary's presence was sorely missed.

" 'Ave ye any news of poor Mary? 'Ave they found the bloke what kilt 'er?"

"I'm sorry, Annie. There is nothing new to report. It seems there has been very little progress made in solving the crime. It's as if the man who killed her simply disappeared."

"We heard about that other woman who was killed," Helen said, "the other maid from Parklands… Miss LeCroix? Do you think their deaths were connected?" Marie's death had been reported as a small item in the London papers, but no link between the two murdered women was mentioned.

"I really don't know, Helen." That was the truth—she didn't know for sure, though she believed there was a very good chance there was. "All I can say is I hope they catch whoever is responsible."

"And 'ang the bloody bastard," Annie grumbled.

Lee made no comment since she staunchly agreed.

She didn't stay long, just made a last check of little Robbie and bid the ladies farewell. The women had sewing that needed to be done and Lee had other errands to run. As she made her way out to the carriage, she was thinking of the stop she needed to make at the dress shop for a final fitting of her new clothes when she spotted Andrew Mondale standing next to the rear wheel of the carriage.

"Lord Andrew—what a coincidence. Whatever are you doing here?" Mondale's snappy red high-perch phaeton, she saw, was parked directly behind the carriage that Caleb had provided for her use.

"I wanted to see you. I thought we needed to talk."

She frowned. "Then this isn't mere chance. How did you know where to find me, Andrew?" A memory returned of the man in the shadows. She thought of the late night vigil that Lord Andrew must have been keeping outside her bedchamber and her temper went up. "Have you been following me? Tell me you haven't been spying on me, Andrew."

Andrew sauntered toward her. Dressed more soberly than usual, in a dark blue tailcoat and silver waistcoat, he looked less foppish, older than the young man he often appeared.

"I told you I wanted to see you. I want to know what Tanner did to convince you to become his mistress." He stopped just in front of her. "You scarcely knew the man, Vermillion. Were you really so enthralled? Or was it something else? Money, perhaps? Jewelry? What was it, pet? What could Tanner give you that I could not?"

She lifted her chin, tried to think like Vermillion but it was getting harder and harder to do. "I chose Captain Tanner because he was interested in the woman I am inside and not some façade that my aunt created. Now, if you will excuse me…"