An Unexpected Encounter ( Half Moon House, Novella 1) (8 page)

Lisbeth. Images of her lingered as he drifted
into sleep.

Chapter Six

Hell and damnation
. What was he doing?
Wasting good daylight, Edward grumbled. He gripped the handle of
the box he carried, kept his spine rigid and his pace leisurely as
he strolled toward the Serpentine in Hyde Park.

Nothing at all had changed, even after all
this time. People still stared. He still felt like a beast on
display at the local fair. Everyone wanted a look, but no one
wished to get too close.

He sighed. He had nothing to prove. Not to
these people, not to himself. Certainly not to Miss Elisabeth
Moreton. She wasn’t the first to run an eye over him and find him
wanting. God knows she wouldn’t be the last.

Yet here he was, striding through the park
instead of accomplishing something in his lab.

He moved aside, stepping off the path to make
room for a small, open carriage moving toward him. The stunning
beauty inside inclined her head at him and he bowed in return. Not
until he straightened did he realize who she was. Hestia Wright,
the famed beauty, the former demi-rep who now spent her days and
her reportedly vast funds helping women.

His fists clenched. There were hundreds,
perhaps thousands of downtrodden women and girls cast alone and
helpless in the city—and Aurelia might have been one of them.
Vickers had turned her away, fully expecting someone else to deal
with his unwanted responsibilities. Just like the old days. But
what if Edmund had been away? What if Freddy’s solicitor had been a
less honest man? He might have abandoned Aurelia to her fate. He
might have sold her into a brothel or kept her for his own
nefarious purposes.

He turned abruptly around and hailed the
carriage. With a word from its occupant, the coachman slowed.

“Forgive the intrusion, Mrs. Wright,” he
began.

She smiled and it was dazzling. “Not Mrs.
Wright. Just Hestia, if you please.” She tilted her head. “Lord . .
. Cotwell, is it not?”

“At your service,” Edmund bowed again. “I had
a sudden thought to thank you for your service to the fairer sex.
I’d like to make a pledge to help you in your work.”

Her smile widened. “Your praise and your
donation are both much appreciated, my lord.”

“Shall I send a draft to Half Moon House?”
The name of her home, where she admitted any female in need, was
infamous.

“No, send it along to Hoare’s Bank, if you
please. The good gentlemen there appreciate the irony and the
business.” She waved a hand and the carriage started forward again.
“Good day to you, sir. And thank you.”

Grimly satisfied, he turned and went on his
way. He hadn’t gone far before he spotted the Serpentine ahead. As
he surged forward, he had to admit that his step felt lighter.

* * *

Lisbeth noticed him first. Laughing, she
looked up from the edge of the water where Aurelia and her friends
had fashioned tiny boats of acorns, twigs and leaves. Amusement
died quickly beneath a wave of pure, unbridled
want
.

Everything faded. The lovely, green expanse
of the park, the riders in the distance, the few bright accents of
ladies’ gowns—it all receded, existing only as a backdrop to the
high-relief, eloquently male, advancing figure of Lord Cotwell.

Oh, good heavens
. She was in such
terrible trouble.

“Good afternoon to you, ladies.” He nodded to
her and then to the little girls as he arrived. A couple of the
girls shrank back a little, unused to being so addressed by such an
imposing figure. Lisbeth held the greatest sympathy for them. She
felt unable to catch enough breath to reply, but Aurelia climbed to
her feet to greet him.

“What is that you have, sir?” All serious
innocence she peered at his burden.

“A gift for you, of course.”

His coat was creased, his neck cloth off
center. Matching dark spots marred the knees of his trousers, but
the smallest smile hovered at the corner of his mouth and his eyes
had gone . . . tender . . . at Aurelia’s approach. He glanced up at
Lisbeth and the smile grew just a little, as if they shared a
secret.

Some floodgate inside her gave way. Such
terrible trouble indeed.

“What is it?” Aurelia asked with equal parts
pleasure and confusion. The mention of a present was enough to
reconcile the other girls and they gathered around as he hefted the
wooden, wire mesh covered box.

“It’s a specimen box. You complained that it
was too difficult to sketch the insects you captured while they
were in the net. I remembered my father using this and had it dug
out of the attic.”

He glanced at Lisbeth and the muscles in her
chest tightened almost painfully.

“Sometimes you must keep a creature close for
a while, in order to study and learn to know it.”

The little girls all buzzed around her as
Aurelia quietly held the gift. Her charge had slipped back, grown a
little somber again for the last couple of days. Lisbeth gave
herself a mental shake and knelt next to her. “Why don’t you thank
his lordship, Aurelia?”

“Thank you, sir,” she whispered. Swallowing,
she looked to Lisbeth. “May we look for something to keep inside
it?”

“Of course. Your net is over on the bench,
but you must remember to give everyone a chance with it.”

“We’ll have better luck if we move to that
clump of trees just there,” the baron indicated.

As a group, the girls swarmed in that
direction. Lisbeth wondered at the look he cast after them.

“Interesting, how they interact, isn’t it?”
he mused.

“Is it?”

“Similar to the dynamics of a large family, I
would think.”

She gazed after them. “A little different,
perhaps. They use better manners with friends.” She smiled. “Are
you interested in large families, my lord?”

“I’d say most only children are. I find them
fascinating myself. Almost like clockwork, how each member
interacts with everyone else to make an interesting whole.” He made
to follow the girls. “I’ll help,” he called and waggled his brows
as he went. “If we turn over enough leaves we might even find a
newt.”

A chorus of shrieks, echoes of terror,
anticipation and joy, rang out at this pronouncement. Lisbeth
followed along, but hung back, wanting the baron to have this
moment with Aurelia.

She couldn’t take her eyes off of him as he
grubbed about with the girls, admiring their finds, identifying
insects and plants and fungi. Even the shyest of the girls dropped
their reserve and unabashedly brought their treasures for his
inspection.

If she didn’t think he would crawl back in
his shell, she’d be tempted to tease him about causing a spectacle.
The group of nurses and servants who had hung back from the water’s
edge to gossip now drifted over. Lisbeth watched them watch the
baron, and her annoyance grew as they exchanged whispers and
glances.

At last a shout of triumph rang out as Lord
Cotwell stood, a tiny newt scrambling inside his cupped hands. The
little creature was proclaimed a darling by all and Aurelia was
given the honor of transferring him to his temporary home.

They were all startled at the sudden, close
clearing of a masculine throat. Lisbeth started, and as one they
all turned to find a very finely dressed gentleman looking on with
amusement. The young lady on his arm, however, wore an expression
of horror.

“Margaret!” she scolded. “Whatever have you
done to yourself? Your dress is smeared with grass and your hands
are
dirty
!”

One of the girls peeled away from the group.
“Oh, Carina, do stop,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “It’s just
a bit of dirt. We’ve had the most fun.”

The girl’s nurse rushed forward to brush her
off. Lisbeth offered her a handkerchief.

“Well, come along, in any case. Mother is in
the carriage. You know how she hates to wait.”

“I’m coming.” Young Margaret thanked Aurelia
prettily for sharing her fun and prepared to set off with her
family.

“I’m sure I don’t know what she’s going to
say about your disgraceful appearance.” The young lady swept a
censorious glance across the lot of them. She allowed it to linger
a little longer on the baron.

Interest or blame? Lisbeth knew she should
hope for the first.

Suddenly the other servants were collecting
their charges and moving away. Girlish goodbyes and promises rang
out. The imperious young lady turned away, beckoning her sister,
but the gentleman stopped suddenly.

“I say . . . Sparsebrow? Is that you?”

Lord Cotwell straightened, his expression
darkening.

“It is you! God’s teeth, man, it’s been an
age!” The gentleman leaned in. “Do you not know me? I’m
Ashburn.”

The baron did not appear half so delighted to
renew the acquaintance.

Oblivious, the other man continued. “Great
Gods, never tell me that you’ve been married long enough for one of
these to be yours?” He gestured to the departing tide of girls.
“How could I have missed that tidy bit of news?”

Lisbeth sagged a little in relief when the
baron unthawed enough to answer. “No.” He gestured toward Aurelia,
still absorbed in her newt and bidding her friends a good day. “My
ward. Freddy’s daughter.”

Ashburn’s face fell. “Ah. I did hear about
that. I’m sorry indeed for your loss. I know you were close.” He
brightened and reached back for the frowning young lady leaving his
side. “Well, since you are still single, allow me to introduce my
sister. She’s out for her first Season this year. Carina, make your
nod to Lord Cotwell. He and I were at school together.”

The girl dipped a shallow curtsy and her gaze
slid away. Lisbeth’s fists tightened at her rudeness.

“You should have had a look at him his first
Season,” Ashburn laughed. “He’d had some sort of fire in his
rooms—”

“An explosion,” the baron interrupted.

“Yes, and it singed near half his eyebrows
off! An odd-looking thing it was too. We called him Sparsebrow that
year. Did we have a few laughs over it, I’ll tell you!”

“More than a few,” Lord Cotwell murmured.

Miss Ashburn’s eyes flew to the baron’s
perfectly lovely brows, then visibly traveled over every crease and
stain on his person. “Yes, well. So nice to meet you, my lord.”

An artist might have captured her attitude
and titled it Polite Dismissal. It set Lisbeth’s teeth to grinding
but Lord Cotwell appeared impervious. He wasn’t even looking at the
young lady. Instead his gaze had settled on
her
.

Miss Ashburn turned her head. “Mother awaits,
Ashburn.”

The gentleman sighed. “True enough. Come
along, Margaret,” he called. He stopped though, before they left.
“I say, Cotwell, we’re having a party Friday—out in the gardens
along the river. You’ll remember how ridiculous my mother is about
her gardens? In any case, you must come! We’ll go over old times
and you’ll give me a reason to avoid the match-making mamas.” He
laughed. “Perhaps I’ll set them after you, and give myself a
respite.” He nodded toward the younger girls. “Mother even has a
fancy tea
al fresco
arranged for the young ones.”

“Yes,” his sister sighed. “The event grows
less like a party and more like a village fair every year.”

“Come along, do,” Ashburn urged, “and bring
Freddy’s girl.” He beamed down as Aurelia approached. “You’ll like
that, won’t you?”

Aurelia bit her lip. “Yes, sir. Thank you,
sir.”

“There! And Margaret will be in alt. It’s
settled.”

“I’ve business to see to,” Lord Cotwell
interjected. He gave Lisbeth a look. “But Aurelia may go if she
wishes. Thank you for the invitation.” He bowed. “Miss
Ashburn.”

She nodded. Lisbeth narrowed her eyes after
her as they departed.

“You look quite ferocious, Miss Moreton.”
Lord Cotwell merely looked . . . inscrutable.

“I feel quite ferocious, my lord.”

“What will he eat?” Aurelia held her specimen
box aloft, her focus on the scrabbling reptile now that her friends
had all drifted away.

“Insects.” The baron’s gaze never left
Lisbeth’s. “Why do you not fill his belly now, and then perhaps
he’ll be quiet enough for you to sketch at home.”

Aurelia agreed and skipped off. And suddenly
it was Lord Cotwell who looked ferocious. His stare held Lisbeth’s.
Something gathered in the air and silence between them.

“Come now, Miss Moreton. What’s stirred you
up?”

His voice sounded different. Something lurked
beneath the usual rough texture. He took a step nearer and she was
unable to keep from taking one back—she needed to maintain her
distance if she was going to say all that needed said.

She raised her chin. “I’m thinking of
contrasts, my lord. And lost opportunities.”

His brow arched. “How interesting. I was
contemplating those very things myself.”

“The difference between your manner with the
children and with that young woman was astounding. With the girls
you were natural and warm. Yet when you spoke with Miss Ashburn you
were stiff and foreboding.”

He gave a derisive snort. “She looked at me
like I was a pugilist looking to challenge someone to a prize
fight. I swear, she examined my hands, searching for bloodied
knuckles.” He lifted a shoulder, a move eloquent in its dismissal.
“Sparsebrow,” he murmured. “I’d forgotten that.” He flicked his
fingers. “But that’s the
ton
for you. They have no more use
for me than I have for them.”

“But you might have made a joke of it. You
could have set her at ease. She might have warmed to you.” She blew
out a breath. “Your cook is a bigger tyrant than Napoleon, yet I’ve
seen you charm her. You might have used some of that on the young
lady.”

“Why?” His brows lowered, as if he genuinely
could not see her point.

“So that she might look favorably on you? At
that garden party you could engage her again, take her for a walk
or for a row on the river.”