Her Reluctant Viscount (Rakes and Rogues) (41 page)

Clara was taking a nap and, while she had thought doing that, honestly, she was too restless. She sat on a stone bench and tipped her head up to meet the sun’s rays. All too soon it would be cold, driving most people to stay inside.

“What are you doing out here?”

Her heart skipped a few beats at Trystan’s voice intruding on her solitude. She ignored her feelings for him and pulled on her mask of indifference.

“Enjoying the warm day.”

She did not open her eyes, not even when she felt him lower his body beside her on the bench.

“You know there is a good chance she will show up tonight.”

There was no need to ask who the “she” was he referred to. “I hope so. I would really like my life back.”

“Can we talk?”

She opened her eyes and glanced at him. Her stomach did that flipping thing. It truly was not fair. He got better looking every time she saw him. Which was often given he was staying with her.

“There is nothing to say, let it go. I just want to enjoy the day.”

A pained expression was on his face but he nodded and left her there. She blew out a breath and tried to regain the near peace she had prior to his appearance. It did not work.

During the daylight hours, things were different between them. She had her walls up and was determined to keep him at a distance. Trystan had his hands full keeping her household safe and had even brought in a few others to help keep an eye around.

But once the lights went out it was totally different. He had been in her bed each of the past three nights. They made love and he introduced her to a world she had never even dreamed about. He had taken her on the floor, bent over her bed, in numerous other positions and places. It was an euphoric high, one she knew would not last, but she was taking advantage of it while she could. Although she woke alone each morning, she fell asleep with his arms wrapped around her, making her feel like the most cherished and protected woman in the world.

“No, I cannot let this go.”

She groaned. Trystan was back.

“Then speak your piece and leave me alone.”

He straddled the bench so he faced her. Her breath caught briefly at the intensity in his gaze.

“I lied to you and I used you.”

She just watched him.

“Say something.”

“I know you did. I overhead Jack.”

“You know I did it for your safety.”

She battled back her anger forcing the calm to remain. “If you say so.”

“Damn it, Jo. You have to know I would never put you in danger like that.”

“Not without a good reason.”

“Right. What? No.” He shook his head. “No.”

She knew trying to stay impassive would not work, she could not contain her anger and it would explode. Not what she wanted, so she had to leave. Getting to her feet, she watched him. Coiled like a leopard, he held her stare, ready for anything.

“Do you remember when I told you never to lie to me again?”

He nodded. “I did not—”

“Enough, Trystan, enough. I am tired. You love the lies and subterfuge of this job of yours. It is not for me. You did what you did, leave it at that. I need my life back. I need to be around people who do not lie as easy as they breathe. This is your world, you can keep it for I have no use for it.” She walked away. “Catch this woman and give me my life back,” she called over her shoulder without slowing.

Fighting the tears, she returned indoors, her time outside ruined. Back in her room, she sat in the window again and rested her head against the glass. Exhausted she fell asleep and woke to find Clara shaking her lightly.

“Are you okay?”

“Just a bit tired. How are you?”

“Ready for the party.” A grin. “Well, I will be once I change.”

“We should eat first.”

Clara tipped her head to the left. “Had some sent up. I thought you may need to get a bit more rest.”

“You will be a great mother, Clara.”

“I hope so, I did not have the best example.”

“Love your children, that is what my parents always said they did. They loved me.”

“They still do. You will see them soon.”

“I hope so.” She gave a grin. “Let us eat. Then we can begin the dressing process.”

Clara laughed. “After all these years, you still are not used to this are you?”

“No. It is insanity to me. I can hardly breathe in this contrivance we are required to wear. The footwear is tight and uncomfortable. Then, to top it off, I am required to flit my fan in certain ways and have a card around my wrist so men can sign up to dance with me. Not like my breathing has gotten any easier.”

“Part of why you want to travel.”

She nodded and uncovered the dishes sent up. They ate quickly before cleaning and dressing. Later they sat with her abigail, Sally, and another maid for Clara, having their hair done.

Ready, the women gathered their fans and walked to the door before heading downstairs. They descended together and to her—and Clara’s by the gasp—surprise, not only did Trystan wait at the foot of them, but also Captain Bottomley. Royce wore his uniform and Trystan looked positively dashing in black.

She shared a look with Clara before they reached the bottom. Then her eyes returned to Trystan where they stayed as she approached him. His gaze burned her as it roved over her dress.

The green dress fit her beautifully and she knew it worked with her skin tone and hair. Still, she almost blushed from the frankness he ogled her with. His blue eyes darkened with desire.

“Good to see you again, Captain Bottomley,” Jo said with a smile.

Royce tore his gaze from Clara to return her greeting. “Miss Adrys.”

Trystan offered his arm and led her down to the waiting carriage. She noticed it had his family crest on the door. As had become habit for her, she looked around, paying attention to her surroundings. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary but she still felt as though something were. Once in the carriage, talk remained light and easy. They arrived fairly quickly at the museum and walked inside.

Beside her, Clara’s puff of air made her smile. She knew how much her friend had been looking forward to being here tonight. The place had been decorated beautifully. She looked at all the people already there. Some she knew, many she did not, and few she liked.

“Do not wander too far, Jo. I need to be able to get to you quickly.”

His whisper brushed along her ear and neck, sending shivers throughout her body. Unable to form a verbal response she nodded. He released her arm and stepped away.

How far was too far? She knew he was quick but she also did not want to follow him around the entire night like a puppy. Still, she did not want to die either, so…had to find a suitable middle.

For the moment, she wanted to begin looking at the statues, which were there. She did, grabbed a cup of punch and began walking around. There was music and dancing going on but she remained away from that for a while.

“Miss Adrys.”

She looked up to see Lord Stanton there. With a curtsey, she returned his greeting, all the while wishing he would leave her alone.

“I did not know you were interested in art.”

“I love it. What about you? Does art interest you?” Did she really care? Not even a teensy tiny bit, but she did know how to play the game.

He glanced around before sending her a leering grin, his eyes small and beady. “Some. I prefer more of the demonstrative and
au naturel
images some places have versus your typical pieces.”

The phrase had caught on more and more this year, she had heard it a few times. She forced her fingers to relax on the handle of her fan. Hard to do when she really wanted to stab him with it. Anyone with sense would know he was trying to embarrass her.

“I would not know anything about those types of images, Lord Stanton.” Okay, so that was a barefaced lie. But there was no reason to let him in on her secret.

“Are you sure? Living over in Africa with those heathens for so long, I am sure you saw many sights—many
intimate
sights—not fit for a proper young Englishwoman.”

Yes, two quick jabs to his throat ought to shut him up. “Is this what you talk about in the House of Lords? Images which excite you? Perhaps if you turned your attention to actually addressing serious issues more would be done in this country.” She snapped her fan open then closed, annoyed with his presence. “It is a shame you think to embarrass me by talking so frankly but I do not shy from such discussions. I would even consider continuing it, but for the moment, I must go find my escort. Would you care for me to relay to Lord Wilkes you want to talk to me about this?”

He blanched. Quite a feat for a man who was pale to begin with. Without a word, he walked off. She stifled a chuckle, her irritation gone.

“You seem to have a knack for exasperating men.” The voice came from beside her, soft and articulate.

Jo turned to see who had decided to approach her and found it hard to breathe. The woman from the park, the one who had thrown her life into such upheaval. The Alchemist.

She stood before Jo as if she had not a care in the world, slender and graceful, she wore a pale blue which matched her eyes. Almost. The material of her dress had a bit of softness in it while her gaze had none. The black hair from earlier had vanished and was replaced by a light golden blonde.

“You!” Jo uttered. She filled with fear only to have replaced with anger when she saw Clara near, Duchess Haversham, Trystan, and others she cared for.

“Tsk, tsk. Temper darling, temper. No need to make a scene.”

“What do you want?”

The woman flicked open her fan with practiced ease. “I would think that obvious. I have come for you and the girl.”

“Never.” She bared her teeth in a silent snarl. “You will never find her.”

“Really? How many people believe you The Alchemist is a woman? It is so easy to manipulate men and move from place to place.” The fan snapped shut. “They are like pets, you know. You just need to know how to stroke them right.”

“If you are so confident no one believes me in that you are a woman, why are you still trying to kill me?”

“Because you mean something to Trystan Wilkes. He took what was most important to me. I plan to do the same to him. And tonight is where it will happen.”

Fear threatened to lock her limbs. Forcing it back, she released a chuckle. “Shows what you know. Trystan does not give a damn for me.”

“He does. He protects you.”

“Not willingly. He has a mistress. All I am is an inconvenience and annoyance to him. He has told me so repeatedly.”

A show of emotion leaked into The Alchemist’s gaze. She had not expected that. Jo kept her face as impassive as possible. Unfortunately, her curiosity had not been cowed and her question slipped free.

“Who did he take from you?”

Others passed them and the woman with her smoothed her expression out and gave a gentle smile. The words however spewed forth, laced with venom when she spoke.

“My brothers. My twin. The first Alchemist. Our baby brother who wanted nothing more than to assume his role. And he took my lover, The Apothecary.”

“He killed them?”

“Murdered them is more like it.”

Her cheeks flushed with anger and Jo knew it would not take much more to push the woman over. This was obviously a sensitive subject. It all made sense now. Trystan had killed The Alchemist, sent him to the gaol and he had hung. This woman was exacting the revenge for the deaths of her loved ones.

“I am sorry.”

“Why would you care?”

“I have a sister who means the world to me and I cannot imagine losing her.”