Whirlwind Affair

Chapter 3

Shortly before eight that evening, Robert arrived at the town house for dinner. As the night air was delightfully cool and the usual fog had not yet rolled in, he'd walked from his rooms on Chesterfield.

"Good evening, Carters," he said, handing the butler his walking stick, hat, and cape. "How is our guest faring?"

"When I last saw her, as she returned from her errand, she appeared quite well."

"Errand?"

"Yes. Late this afternoon Mrs. Brown asked if I knew a reputable antiquities expert in the city. I of course directed her to Mr. Fitzmoreland."

Curiosity raised Robert's brows. "Did she say why she required an antiquities expert?"

"No, Lord Robert. She merely asked for a referral, then inquired about transportation. I arranged for a hack and a footman to escort her."

"I see." Annoyed at himself for not thinking to do so earlier, he made a mental note to arrange for a carriage to be placed at Mrs. Brown's disposal. "And where is Mrs. Brown now?"

"In the drawing room."

"Thank you." Robert headed down the corridor, his strides slowing as the sounds of piano music drifted toward him. He silently entered the room, then leaned back against the door, observing Mrs. Brown in profile.

She sat at the pianoforte, her head bent over the ivory keys, her brows and lips puckered in concentration. She was again dressed in stark black, making the curve of her smooth cheek appear impossibly pale, like fragile porcelain. The waning vestiges of daylight glowed through the tall windows, bathing her in a subtle stream of gold. Without her bonnet, she proved incorrect his earlier impression that her hair was merely brown. Indeed, her shiny tresses were a deep, rich chestnut, shot with streaks of red. She'd arranged her hair in a simple chignon at her nape, lending her a regal air.

Her fingers continued to caress the ivory keys, but he did not recognize the tune she was playing. Of course, that may have been because-his face puckered in a grimace-she was appallingly bad.

Her hands suddenly stilled, and she turned her head. When she saw him, she snatched her hands away from the keys as if they'd bitten her. A rose-hued blush colored her cheeks, and he bit back a smile. Except for the mourning gown, she looked like a child caught snitching sweets from the kitchen.

"Lord Robert. I did not hear you come in."

He crossed to the pianoforte, then made her a bow. "I was listening to your concert. I was not aware you played."

She looked up at him, and his breath caught when he detected a tiny flash of what appeared to be mischief in her eyes. "How polite you are. If you'd been listening, however, you would know without a doubt that I cannot play. I've always wished I could." She cast a wistful glance at the keys. "I love music."

"As do I. Unfortunately, not one member of my family possesses an iota of musical talent, neither for the pianoforte nor singing, and I fear I am the most tone-deaf of us all. However, my philosophy has always been that if you cannot play well, play with enthusiasm, and if you cannot sing well, sing loud. A source of great embarrassment for the entire family, I'm afraid." He smiled at her, but she did not smile back. Not even the slightest twitch of her lips. Making this woman laugh was fast becoming a quest, just as it was with Carters. He was suddenly overwhelmed with the desire to see the joyful woman from Elizabeth 's sketch. "Tell me, Mrs. Brown, can you sing?"

"Worse than I play the pianoforte."

"Excellent. Shall we have a duet?" He perched himself next to her on the bench and made a great show of flexing his fingers. "I can only play one song. It's all my family would allow me to learn. For some inexplicable reason, some emergency or another always seemed to pop up whenever I sat down to play as I was growing up." He looked around, as if to ensure no one could overhear, then confided sotto voce, "Actually, the truth is that, in spite of the family's best efforts to squash my budding talent, I did manage to learn a few other ditties, but I fear that as I learned them in pubs, they are not suitable for a lady." He cleared his throat and nodded toward the music. "I'll play the upper notes, and you can play the lower. Ready?"

She hesitated, her serious gaze roaming his face as if looking for something. After several seconds, she nodded. "I'll try."

They each played their parts, most often with her several notes behind him. Instead of improving as the song went on, however, it seemed their efforts yielded worse results. By the final verse, their voices were raised in jarring harmony:

The sunlight reflected her features so fair

As she waited and wondered, to see if he’d dare.

And he did not disappoint his lovely young miss,

For upon her sweet lips he did bestow a sweet kiss.

The final discordant note lingered, then faded into silence. With laughter rumbling in his throat, Robert shook his head and turned toward her. "Egad, that was stupendously awful."

"Awful, indeed," she agreed in a somewhat breathless voice. "I don't believe I played one correct note. And I am forced to admit you were correct."

"Of course I was. About what?"

"You, sir, are indeed tone-deaf."

An oh-so-brief, yet this time unmistakable, spark of mischief gleamed in her eyes and his pulse jumped. A tingle started in the region of his heart, and zoomed down to his… feet.

He pulled himself together and smiled. "And you, madam, cannot play worth a jot." He rubbed his hands together, then offered forth his most evil chuckle. "I cannot wait for us to entertain the family with this song."

"They'll run from the room screaming."

"Then we shall simply have to play and sing louder."

The slightest twitch touched one corner of her mouth, and he stared at her, his heart thumping at twice its normal rate. His gaze lowered to those incredibly full lips, and another tingle shot through him, this one settling directly in his groin. His attention riveted at the beguiling dimple gracing her chin, and his thumb itched to trace the shallow indentation.

Drawing in a much-needed breath, his head filled with her delicate scent, shooting heated awareness through him. She smelled lovely. Like some sort of flower, but not one familiar to him. He inhaled again, straining to catch the elusive fragrance, somehow resisting the growing urge to lean forward and simply bury his face in her enticing neck.

She blinked several times, then her expression went blank as if she'd drawn a curtain, and she abruptly stood. Crossing to the fireplace, she stared into the flames.

He remained seated, pulling in several unflowery-scented deep breaths, and mentally berated himself. Not well done at all, you nitwit. Finally get her to give you a tiny twitch of the lips, then what do you do? Stare at her mouth as if you're starving and she were a meat pie. Then sniff at her as if you 're a hound and she were a lamb chop.

Bloody hell, where had his finesse disappeared to? Not to mention his decency. Good God, he'd never before considered himself a cad, but who else but a cad would feel lustful urges for a grieving widow? And as much as he hated to admit it, he could not deny that what he'd experienced was lust. Certainly he was familiar enough with the feeling to recognize it when he felt it. Yet the smacked-in-the-head sensation this woman gave him was definitely unfamiliar territory.

So, perhaps it wasn't lust. Perhaps he'd merely been… charmed. And… pleased to see the beginnings of a smile from her. The poor woman needed to laugh. Hadn't Lady Gaddlestone said as much? And even if she hadn't, a blind person could see Mrs. Brown needed a bit of fun.

He just hadn't planned that the merest hint of a grin from her would impact him like a punch to the heart.

Allie sat at the long, mahogany dining-room table, trying to do justice to the delicious meal of creamed peas and savory beef, but her thoughts were too jumbled to concentrate on her dinner. Peeking up from under her lashes, she covertly observed the man sitting across from her.

Lord Robert was engrossed in cutting his meat. Her gaze settled on his hands, holding his silver cutlery. Large, long-fingered, strong-looking hands. She'd noticed them when they'd played the piano. They looked like they belonged to someone accustomed to the outdoors rather than a gentleman of leisure.

Warmth suffused her cheeks as she recalled their impromptu duet. She'd been unable to resist his teasing invitation, yet she'd allowed herself to get far too carried away, singing with such abandon. But it had been so long since she'd done something silly. For just a moment, exhilaration had filled her and she'd forgotten whom she was with.

A charming, handsome man. A man she barely knew. A man who laughed easily, but whose gaiety did not always reach his eyes… eyes she recognized as guarding secrets. A man who'd looked at her in a way that made her heart pound.

Just like David.

David and Lord Robert were so obviously cast from the same mold. How could she have forgotten herself that way? But even as she asked herself the question, the answer came to her. Because David never let you play the pianoforte. And he never would have encouraged you to sing. Indeed, David had laughingly told her she sounded like a frog in the meadow, and she could not disagree with him. Still, her family had not minded, and except for her mother, they were all dreadful singers. Yet that had not stopped them from singing together every Tuesday evening, which they'd designated as "music night." David had hated music night, and after they'd married, he'd found any number of reasons to tempt her to stay home on Tuesdays. Most often he'd bring her to their bed and-

She sliced off the thought and ruthlessly buried it. She'd enjoyed the marriage bed, at least in the beginning, but that part of her life was over. Scooping up a forkful of peas, she again peeked at Lord Robert. And discovered his dark blue gaze upon her.

"Is the meal to your liking?" he asked.

Hoping she didn't appear flustered, she said, "Yes, thank you."

"I seem to recall Elizabeth mentioning you have a brother and sister?"

"Two brothers and a sister. All younger." A wave of love washed over her. "The boys are twins, and we call them the identical devils."

"How old are they?"

"Sixteen. My sister will turn twenty this month." A wistful sigh escaped her. "I miss them very much. Miss the noise and happy chaos that always reigned at our house. It's been… too long since I saw them."

He sipped his wine and nodded. "I understand. Although I keep my own rooms here in town, I cannot go too long without seeing my family. They occasionally drive me mad, especially Caroline, but they are also my greatest source of joy. And if it's noise and chaos you want, you'll get more than you ever hoped for at Bradford Hall."

She swallowed to relieve her tight throat. "I'm looking forward to it."

He looked toward the ceiling and shook his head. "You may change your mind once you arrive. Indeed, I can just picture what's happening there right now. Austin is glowering and pacing the floor, his hair standing up at odd angles due to his ramming his hands through it, demanding every eight seconds to know when Elizabeth is going to give birth. Caroline is telling her two-year-old daughter Emily to stop chasing the kittens, and Emily is completely ignoring her and looking to her father Miles, who, with a sly wink, will encourage her to continue.

"My brother William, his wife Claudine, and their daughter Josette are drawing pictures, which won't bode well for William, for he is a miserable artist. And my mother has undoubtedly taken Austin and Elizabeth 's son James out into the garden where his chubby little hands will decapitate all her best roses for his 'mummy' while his grandmother beams at him." He made a comical face. "Humph. Mother used to fly into the boughs when Austin, William, and I so much as glanced at her roses."

A poignant ache filled Allie at the picture he'd painted for her. "It actually sounds much tamer than what I was accustomed to," she said. "Jonathan and Joshua routinely brought home injured animals, until Papa finally turned over a small barn to them that he called the healing room, all the while grumbling he'd never seen so many hobbling pigeons, ducks, and squirrels in his life. And don't ask about the toads, snakes, and ant farms.

"My sister Katherine looks like an angel, but she was forever skinning her knees and elbows as she joined in all Jon and Josh's adventures. Mama simply smiled through it all, bestowing hugs and kisses, applying bandages as needed, and delivering the occasional stern lecture. She loved to see us running about, swimming, and playing. She had an older sister who was bedridden most of her life, so she did not like to rein in our hoydenish activities." A wave of homesickness washed over her. "Mama always smelled like freshly baked bread."

"I suppose you were the reserved member of the family who kept the others in line," he said with a grin.

She shook her head. "Actually, I believe I was the most unruly of the bunch. I forever had twigs in my hair, grass stains on my dresses, dirt on my face. And as I was the eldest, I'm afraid I set the precedent for the others." She set down her fork, her meal forgotten. "Tell me, if you were with your family right now, what would you be doing? Playing with the kittens, drawing pictures, or beheading roses?"

He stroked his chin and pursed his lips. "Hmmm… I'd have to say none of those. Most likely I'd be challenging Austin to a game of billiards in a vain attempt to get his mind off Elizabeth for a bit before he wore out Mother's favorite Axminster."

"And would you succeed?"

"Eventually. But not until I'd riled him by calling his bravery into question for refusing to play an astute player"-he cleared this throat with exaggerated modesty-"such as myself."

"I see. And would you win?"

A slow, devastating smile creased his face, and a bolt of heat shot through her. "Of course. I always play to win."

It suddenly felt as if the room had grown ten degrees warmer, and Allie barely resisted the urge to dab at her heated face with her linen napkin. "And after defeating your brother at billiards, then what would you do?"

"Well, assuming that the new babe had not yet made his or her appearance, I suppose I'd round up Lady Giggles, Lord Mischief-Maker, and Miss Tickles for a quick game of 'Guess the Number' before their governesses whisked them off to the nursery."

"I take it you're referring to your nieces and nephew?"

"Indeed." His grin widened. "My mother, brothers, and sister are hardly ever whisked away by their governesses anymore."

"And do you assign these nicknames to everyone?"

"I'm afraid so. Bad habit of mine. I'm sure I'll come up with one for you before long. So you'd better be on your best behavior."

"Indeed. I'd hate to end up Miss Falls-in-Mud. Or Lady Trips-over-Tables."

He chuckled, and she very nearly smiled in return, a fact that disturbed her. Dear Lord, it was not easy keeping this man at a distance. After his laughter tapered off, he remarked, "Carters mentioned you ventured to Mr. Fitzmoreland's shop this afternoon. I hope you were able to find what you were looking for."

His casual statement returned reality with a jarring thump, snuffing out her frivolity like water to a flame. She studied his face for signs of a hidden meaning behind his casual comment, but saw nothing save mild curiosity. "Mr. Fitzmoreland was quite helpful."

"You know, you really shouldn't travel about the city in a hired hack, even with a footman in attendance."

She lifted her chin. "As I told you, I have business I need to conduct here."

"Yes, but you must have proper transportation. I shall arrange for a carriage to be at your disposal starting tomorrow morning. And I shall be happy to accompany you on any errands you need to run."

She clenched her hands in her lap. "That is unnecessary. I'm quite accustomed to fending for myself."

His gaze drifted to her black attire, and his eyes filled with sympathy. "I'm only doing what I know Elizabeth would do if she were here. In the note I sent her this afternoon, I gave her my solemn promise to look after you until we reach Bradford Hall." He shook with an exaggerated shiver. "Please accept the carriage. I've no desire for Elizabeth to scold me for the rest of eternity for allowing you to travel about without proper transportation."

Silence stretched between them for several seconds while Allie struggled with the desire to refuse his offer, and the knowledge that not having to pay for hacks would help preserve her meager resources. Finally, practicality won out.

Pushing back her chair, she stood. "In that case, I thank you. And now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to retire. It's been a long and exhausting day."

He instantly rose, his eyes reflecting concern. "Of course. I shall see you tomorrow."

She inclined her head in reply, then strode swiftly from the room, overwhelmed with the need to escape his disturbing presence. She made her way quickly up the stairs, yet even after she'd closed her bedchamber door firmly behind her, she still did not relax.

Pacing around the room, she tried to collect her scattered thoughts. Lord Robert had unsettled her. For a brief moment she'd lowered her guard, and he'd managed to burrow beneath the carefully built fence she'd constructed around herself. And she did not like it one bit. Her defenses were hard-earned, her independence hard-won. She did not require a man to look after her, to arrange transportation for her, to escort her on errands. And she most emphatically did not need a man to smile at her, or play silly duets with her, or look at her in a way that resurrected long-buried feminine yearnings.

She wrapped her arms around her midriff and continued to pace. Dear God, the man was even more charming than David. All devilish grins and teasing blue eyes. Yet in a flash those eyes could convey sympathy and warmth and concern. Still, she'd seen that hint of secrets behind his charm and smiles. And not every smile reached his eyes.

Just like David. And everything with David had been lies.

But she was no longer a naive miss. She would not make the same mistakes again.

She stopped pacing and pressed her fingertips to her temples, where a headache was rapidly forming. Her glance wandered to the large bed, but she instantly rejected the idea of retiring. In spite of the fact that her body ached with weariness, sleep was nowhere in her immediate future. And as she well knew, the only thing to cure this restlessness was fresh air.

Crossing the room, she pushed aside the forest-green velvet draperies and looked down at a small, square garden surrounded by a tall stone wall. Taking her shawl, but forgoing a bonnet, she slipped from her bedchamber, quickly exiting the dark, quiet house through the rear door.

The instant Allie's lungs filled with the cool night air, her shoulders relaxed. Staying close to the stone wall, she slowly walked around the garden, enjoying the nighttime chirping song of the crickets, the silver slash of moonlight upon the grass, the smell of burning fireplaces mixed with the pungent scent of garden soil. By her third trip about the perimeter, she'd firmly rebuilt her teetering defenses. Thanks to David, she'd learned, albeit too late, about the inner ugliness a handsome exterior could hide. Of course, it was just as possible for an unattractive man to be evil, but unfortunately, she clearly harbored a distressing weakness for beautiful men, a character flaw she refused to fall victim to again. She'd discovered the hard way that the more beautiful they were, the worse they were.

In which case, she needed to avoid Lord Robert as if he harbored the plague.

That decided, she turned to cross the grass to return to the house. Before she'd taken a step, however, strong arms grabbed her from behind. She gasped, and a beefy hand clapped over her mouth.

"Keep quiet," a guttural voice growled in her ear.

Panic along with fury raced through her. She fought against her captor, kicking her legs, trying to disengage his hand from her mouth. She managed to get out a half-cry before he stuffed a foul-smelling rag between her lips. Twisting around, she freed one hand and slashed it down his face, her nails raking his skin. Before she could enjoy her triumph, however, something hard smashed down on her head and her world faded to black.

Robert was halfway back to his rooms when he realized he'd left his walking stick at the town house. He debated whether to return for it, or simply fetch it tomorrow, but decided that as the weather was cool, and the fog had yet to engulf the streets, he could use the extra walk. He certainly had no desire to return to his empty rooms and lie in his empty bed, for he knew damn well that sleep would not come. No, all he would think about was her.

And that was the last thing he wanted to think about.

Her and her big golden-brown eyes. And her silky hair. And the teasing hint of her smile. And what appeared to be an utterly lush figure underneath…

Her mourning clothes.

Disgusted with himself, he purposely turned his thoughts to the tasks he planned to perform tomorrow before calling upon her. The visit to his solicitor. Then perhaps a quick stop at his club.

Taking a shortcut, he slipped into the mews behind the row of Park Lane town houses. His footsteps faltered when what sounded like a muffled cry echoed in the air. Before he could decide if the noise had been a sound of passion or one of distress, or even made by a human, he spied a man with a sack flung over his back entering the mews from-he leaned forward and squinted into the darkness-damn it, from what very well could be Austin 's garden. Bloody hell, what was this about?

Keeping to the shadows, he hunched over and ran swiftly through the mews. The man dashed to a waiting hack, tossed his bundle inside, then clambered in himself. The hack instantly took off, moving swiftly into the darkness.

Straightening, Robert took off at a dead run. He arrived at Austin 's gate several seconds later. His lips tightened into a grim line. The gate was ajar. After assuring himself that his knife was secured in his boot, he ran after the hack. When it slowed at the corner, he jumped onto the back.

The hack left the fashionable West End, moving east toward the docks. Robert held on tight, deciding that he would avoid confrontation with the bastard who'd stolen from Austin, if possible, but if it were necessary to pound the bloody piss out of the man to regain Austin 's belongings, he would. And he had his knife should he need it.

The hack led him through a labyrinth of alleys, and he knew they were nearing the docks when the smell of rotting fish filled the air. When the vehicle slowed to a crawl, Robert jumped down, quickly hiding in the shadows cast by the brick buildings, and continued to follow on foot. Several minutes later, the hack drew to a stop. Pressing himself into the darkness, Robert watched the burly man exit the vehicle with the bundle thrown over his shoulder, then disappear between two buildings. The hackney flapped the reins, then moved off. The instant he was gone, Robert emerged from the shadows and swiftly entered the alleyway the burly man had entered.

He saw the man not far ahead of him. It appeared as if something fell out of the man's sack before he disappeared, turning into what looked like a doorway. Robert moved ahead cautiously, straining his senses to see or hear anything besides the distant shouting of men and wailing of infants. Bending down, he picked up the article that had fallen from the man's bundle.

It was a shoe. A woman's black shoe. A frown yanked his brows downward. It looked like Mrs. Brown's shoe! Could that muffled cry he'd heard have been her?

A noise sounded nearby and he froze. Just as he realized the sound came from behind him, something struck him on the back of the head, and then he felt no more.