Dangerous Lover, page 8
Sir Nicholas addressed the Tizsas. “Would you care to squash inside?”
“No, thank you,” Griz said cheerfully. “We’re going to the market, and then we’ll probably take a hackney.”
Sir Nicholas offered his free hand to Dragan. Evelina dangled from the other. “I have no words to thank you both for what you’ve done.”
“None are necessary,” Dragan assured him, shaking hands.
Alexandra followed Nicholas’s gaze toward the market square, where the bright, gaudy figure of Nell was vanishing into the distance.
“Will you thank her, too?”
“We will,” Griz said cheerfully, raising a hand in farewell as they turned away.
As Alexandra climbed into the carriage, Dragan suddenly turned back.
“What was in your secret cellar?”
Sir Nicholas said vaguely. “Oh, nothing of interest.”
Alexandra glanced at him in surprise, but he was already climbing inside. The coach moved forward toward home.
It seemed a lifetime had passed since Evelina’s morning tantrum. And it wasn’t even dark yet.
Chapter Eight
At Evelina’s request—and indeed, her father seemed to find it difficult to let her out of his sight—Sir Nicholas joined them in the dining room that evening.
Evelina was already in a state of huge excitement. Her welcome home had been overwhelming. Mrs. Dart had hugged her. Anna had wept over her amidst a storm of Italian, and the other servants had been grinning from ear to ear. All the attention on top of her escape and adventure with the Covent Garden children seemed, for the moment, to have blotted out what must have been the terror of her capture. And to crown it all, the unprecedented presence of her father at dinner made her almost delirious.
In fact, Sir Nicholas was waiting for them when they arrived in the dining room, looking very distinguished in his evening clothes—which may have been the reason for Alexandra’s sudden shortness of breath.
But he proved to be much more approachable than she had ever seen him: perfectly well mannered, responding indulgently to his daughter’s happy chatter, and even telling amusing stories about her babyhood, and about his life abroad. This congenial side of him was curiously beguiling after what she had seen before of the arrogant gentleman and the anguished father.
Nor did he exclude Alexandra, although she was happy enough simply to listen and smile at their talk.
There was wine with this meal, and as he topped up her glass, he said, “You must have been in Rome when I was there in ’44.”
“Yes, but I doubt we moved in the same circles.”
“I met your father,” he said unexpectedly. “I don’t remember you.”
“You wouldn’t,” she said.
“Why not?” Evelina asked, gazing from one to the other.
“If I was present at all,” Alexandra said lightly, “I would have been quite eclipsed by all my father’s glittering admirers.” Who, generally, he was shamelessly fleecing at the time.
“I would have remembered you,” Sir Nicholas said, and something in his tone made her gaze fly to his. Was that warmth in his eyes? Approval? Gratitude for helping in the search for Evelina? Or something more…?
Whatever the emotion, he had no right to look at her like that, to make butterflies flutter in her stomach and sudden, silly hope blossom in her heart.
A swift knock at the door broke their gaze. James came in and spoke quietly in Sir Nicholas’s ear. Sir Nicholas nodded, and the man bowed and left the room. Thoughtfully, Sir Nicholas curled his long fingers around the stem of his wine glass and raised it to his lips.
“The large hall off the landing,” he observed, “would make a decent drawing room.”
“Are you thinking of entertaining, sir?” Alexandra asked.
“It crossed my mind. It is hardly a desirable or attractive address, but I suppose people might come from curiosity.”
“Why did you choose to live here?” Alexandra asked.
He gazed into his wine for so long that she thought he wouldn’t answer, and Evelina shifted impatiently in her chair. “I had reasons. Reasons I’m not sure were ever valid.” He set his glass on the table and pushed it away. “Ladies, it has been a most pleasant evening, and I thank you for your company.”
As he made to rise, Evelina looked alarmed for the first time since they had found her in the Covent Garden house. She sprang off her chair and threw herself at his knee. Alexandra didn’t have the heart to rebuke her for such table manners. Nor, it appeared, did her father.
After an instant of what might have been surprise, he put his arm around her and bent to kiss the top of her head. “Good night, my brave child.”
Releasing her, he rose, and Evelina stepped back. Alexandra prepared for a possible tantrum, but it didn’t come. Sir Nicholas ruffled Evelina’s head and walked out of the room, while Evelina turned and resumed her seat to finish the last of her dessert.
Not long after, Anna came to take her to bed, and Evelina, who did indeed look exhausted, made no demur. Only at the last minute, as she and Anna reached the dining room doorway, did she turn back, throwing out her hand. “Come, too, Miss Battle.”
Alexandra would always have been happy to put the child to bed. In her previous positions, it had been expected of her, but here, it had always seemed like stepping on Anna’s toes, and the nurserymaid had already been resentful enough.
“If you wish,” Alexandra said, rising.
Evelina clung to both their hands, swinging and chattering between them as they crossed the landing and climbed the stairs. Anna laughed with her, showing no signs of the suspicion usual with her around Alexandra.
While the nursery maid helped Evelina wash and change into her night things, Alexandra browsed the bookshelves for a suitable bedtime story. Drawing out a well-worn edition of Hans Christian Andersen’s fairytales, she glanced up at Evelina for approval.
Evelina was sitting in front of the mirror on her dressing table, while Anna brushed her hair. The child gazed at her own face, but it was clear she was not seeing it. Her eyes were frightened, haunted, and Alexandra’s heart went out to her.
“I could read you a fairytale,” she offered.
Evelina blinked, then nodded, rising from her stool.
“I will fetch a fresh glass of water,” Anna said, making for the door.
“No!” Evelina flew after her, seizing her hand. “Don’t go.”
Anna gazed down at her with pity and murmured in Italian, “You are quite safe, my sweet. Miss Battle will be with you until I come back.”
Evelina buried her face in the nursemaid’s hand. “Where is Papa?”
“I do not know,” Anna said unwisely.
“He did not go out,” Alexandra added hastily, hoping it was the truth. “He will be busy in his library, as he always is.”
Evelina swallowed and allowed herself to be led into bed, though she still clung onto Anna’s hand. Alexandra sat on the chair on the other side of the bed and opened the book. But a tear was squeezing out of Evelina’s eye, all the more heartbreaking for being silent and so unlike her usual attention-seeking tantrums.
“Please make him come,” she whispered to Alexandra.
Alexandra glanced at the worried maid, who met her gaze. There was really no debate. The child had been through a terrifying ordeal and come out of it with remarkable sangfroid. But she was six years old, and rough strangers had seized her from her family home only hours ago.
Alexandra laid aside the book. “I’ll speak to him.”
As she left the room and made her way to the library, she crossed her fingers among her skirts. Please don’t let him have gone out. She did not care for lies, but surely in the circumstances, it would be better for Evelina to believe he was in the house, even if he were not?
Hurrying across the landing toward the library, she breathed a sigh of relief, for the door was ajar, and within, she could hear male voices. She advanced with much more confidence that Evelina could now be soothed into sleep, had even raised her hand to knock when Sir Nicholas’s distinctive voice reached her, chilling in its icy anger.
“You took my child in broad daylight. Our agreement is at an end.”
Alexandra froze. What?
“Sir, a genuine mistake…” began a very different male voice, wheedling, yet offhand, very much in the accents of the lower orders of society.
“A final mistake,” Sir Nicholas interrupted. “I meant what I said.”
The sound of quick footsteps treading across the library floor panicked Alexandra. Though her first instinct was to run, she forced herself to stay put and knock, finally, just as the door flew open.
James stood there, looking larger and considerably more threatening than usual. The man with him was no taller than Alexandra and dressed in the cap and clothing of a working man. His attitude was deprecating to the point of servile, and yet his eyes spat venom.
Alexandra fell back, and this man slid past her, eyes down, with James hard on his heels.
“Miss Battle,” Sir Nicholas said from inside the room. “Were you looking for me?”
I was. Before you let your daughter’s kidnapper walk out of here, before you implied his only mistake was to do what he did in daylight… Do I really believe that?
“Yes,” she managed. “Evelina is asking for you.”
He had been walking toward her, but at that, he swung away, dragging his hand through his hair before he spun back to face her. “I am angry, Miss Battle.”
“Then perhaps you should not see her,” she blurted.
His eyes narrowed as though he suspected hidden meaning to her words. “You don’t think much of me, do you, Alexandra Battle?”
“I do not know you,” she replied, and that was the truth.
He gazed at her, then without a word, he walked past her and out the door. A moment later, she heard his footsteps running up the stairs two at a time. Alexandra followed more slowly, trying to slow the pounding of her heart.
She could swear his anxiety for Evelina had been genuine, especially those moments in the cellar, and he had seemed to leave no stone unturned in his effort to find her, mobilizing all his employees from all she had seen.
And yet he clearly knew the man responsible, spoke only of broken agreements…
No, that was all you heard, she admonished herself severely. It struck her as she approached the schoolroom area that she was eager to think the worst of him, to counter her own inconvenient attraction to him, which was hardly fair.
She had spoken the truth. She did not know him.
She found him sitting on Evelina’s bed, sharing her propped-up pillow, while he read from the fairytale book. Evelina spared her a distracted glance but smiled, and so Alexandra sat next to Anna on the other side of the bed. A fresh glass of water had been brought, perhaps by another maid.
Evelina fell asleep part way through the story, which was probably a good thing, considering the sadness of its ending. Sir Nicholas stopped reading and set aside the book. In fascination, Alexandra watched the tenderness with which he laid her down and drew up the coverlet. As if his conversation in the library had never happened.
Without warning, he glanced up and saw her staring. At once, she looked away and crept from the room while Anna put out all the lamps save the night-light.
“Miss Battle.” Sir Nicholas’s voice stayed her. “A word, if you please.”
He was her employer. She had no choice. Even so, she was conscious of the conflicting powerful pulls of attraction and repulsion. She did not want to go near him at this moment, and yet it was more than the obedience of an employee that caused her to follow him into the library.
He walked across to the table with the decanters and poured brandy into two glasses before holding one out to her.
“No, thank you.”
He raised one eyebrow. “You won’t drink with me, or you won’t drink?”
“I have already had wine this evening.”
“Goodness,” he remarked. “Any moment now, you will be a fallen woman.” He all but dropped her glass on the table between the two chairs. “I wish you’d sit down because I intend to.”
She lowered herself, straight-backed, into the second armchair. Was this where Evelina’s captor had sat? Sir Nicholas threw himself into the other and frowned at his brandy glass.
“It will make your life difficult,” he said abruptly. “But in the immediate future, Evelina must not be left alone outside, anywhere.”
“In the immediate future, I do not believe that will be a problem. She does not wish to be left alone anywhere.”
“Another issue for you to resolve when this is done.”
“When what is done?” she asked uneasily.
“The grounds made safe, and the villains who kidnapped my daughter are behind bars.”
She stared at him. You had him here, sitting where I am now, and you let him go.
“Miss Battle, I may have no idea how to bring up a child, let alone a daughter,” he said impatiently, perhaps misunderstanding her silence, “but I am aware she needs some stability, some security in her life. God knows she had little enough before her mother died, and now I have uprooted her from her home and brought her to a strange country, where Anna and I are her only connection to the past—Anna more so because I did not see her as often as I should.” He took a drink, his movements quick and angry. “The point is, this afternoon’s adventure can hardly help matters. She has grown fond of you very quickly, and I believe you can help her, but if you are not prepared to take on such a difficult task, I need to know now.”
“I believe I already accepted the task.”
He sat back in his chair, regarding her over the rim of his glass as he took another sip. “How very stiff you are. How have I offended you?”
“I am your employee. It is not my place to be offended.”
“And yet,” he mocked, “here you are, rigid with disapproval.”
I heard you with him, I saw… “I am tired,” she said, taking the coward’s way out.
He shook his head. “No.”
“By your leave, sir, I should know!”
“Oh, you may well be tired, but that isn’t it.”
She met his gaze with defiance, saying nothing.
The mockery faded from his eyes, but he did not smile. “Perhaps you overheard some of my conversation with…my visitor.”
“I do not eavesdrop.”
“Of course, you do not.” The mockery was back. “That would be unladylike. On the other hand, catching a few words meant for another and drawing your own conclusions is very different and maintains your honor…or is it self-righteousness?”
She jumped to her feet. “Of what, exactly, are you accusing me, sir?”
His gaze followed her. “Well, here’s a heat.” He rose deliberately, like a large, predatory cat, all smooth movement and danger. “And yet the question is rather, of what are you accusing me, madam?”
Her heart thundered. It was an effort merely to hold his sardonic gaze as he stood staring down at her, to hide her fear over what he had done and what he was, and why her treacherous body still yearned to be closer.
“Nothing,” she managed.
“Oh come,” he mocked. “Have the courage of your convictions, and spit it out.”
“I would like to retire,” she said desperately.
“Would you?” His gaze dipped lower, to her mouth, and back up. “And if I commanded you stay and keep me company?”
“You won’t.” With sudden relief, she realized it was true. He was a gentleman, if a somewhat unconventional one, and would not command such a thing. So how could she be suspecting him of something far worse?
Catching a few words meant for another and drawing your own conclusions…
At last, she dragged her gaze free of his, meaning to leave him with a muttered goodnight and whatever dignity she could muster. But his hand shot out, taking her chin in his long fingers, holding her still, forcing her to meet his gaze once more.
He searched her face, no longer mocking but frowning, serious. Almost distractedly, his finger moved beneath her chin like a caress. She could not breathe. “Are you afraid of me, Alexandra Battle?”
“No,” she croaked. She swallowed. “Why would I be?”
“I have no idea,” he said slowly, “unless it’s the same fear I have of you.” His lips twisted, and the mockery surged back into his eyes, though whether it was aimed at her or himself, she had no idea. At last, he released her, and relief flooded her.
It is relief, it is…
“Go then, but there will be a reckoning between us one day. Good night, Miss Battle.”
“Good night,” she managed, trying to gather her dignity. She walked quickly to counteract the foolish, inexplicable urge to return to him.
Chapter Nine
Exhausted, Alexandra fell into a deep, heavy sleep, almost as soon as her head touched the pillow, and she did not open her eyes again until daylight peeked through her bed curtains.
However, as she dragged herself into a sitting position, she did not feel rested. The lingering mists of sleep and disturbing dreams clung to her mind, images of Evelina and Sir Nicholas mixed up with those of Nell and the unpleasant man she had seen in the library. There were noises, too, the strange, rhythmic clanking she had heard on her first night here that turned into much different noises, bumping and rumbling and the low, muffled voices of humans and donkeys. It all felt vaguely ominous.
But as she rose and went through the familiar rituals of washing and dressing and pinning up her hair, her wayward mind kept drifting back to the odd scene with Sir Nicholas in the library. He suspected her of overhearing his conversation with the unpleasant man who had probably, kidnapped Evelina, but he had not asked for her silence or threatened her in any way. Except in his talk of reckoning, and even that had not felt as much a warning as flirtation.
Her whole body heated with embarrassment. Why would he flirt with her except to win her silence? Silence over what? A few words she heard him speak to a shifty character? Words that made no sense besides his care for Evelina, and she could swear that was genuine.
