Once an Innocent (23 page)

But his eyes continued boring into hers, communicating something more.

“Oh,” she whispered as understanding dawned. “I see.”

He squeezed her hands. “Good girl. I’m counting on you.” His fingers traced over one cheekbone and then he strode back the way they’d come, leaving a stunned Naomi alone on the terrace.

• • •

The evening meal came as close to disaster as it could without the dining room bursting into flame. Before dinner, Miss Price made a circuit of the parlor, asking in her overloud way whether anyone had seen her cousin. When she approached Naomi, it was all she could do not to keep a bubble of hysterical laughter from bursting out.

Aunt Janine arrived wearing a new dress. The taupe fabric actually complemented her skin tones, and the scoop neck was lower than Naomi had ever beheld on her aunt, displaying the barest hint of pillowy bosom. Smartly pleated ribbon adorned the cuffs and hem. Altogether, the frock approached fashionable. Naomi hoped her aunt had not suffered an apoplexy to bring on such a change. Janine moved awkwardly in the garment. Her face colored every time a man’s eye settled on her, and while the others took a glass of claret, Janine slipped behind a screen in the corner.

When they finally made it to dinner, a full half of the gentlemen were absent from the table, Jordan among them, leaving Clara in a lurch over where to seat everyone.

Though she didn’t know precisely what was going on, Naomi had Jordan’s vote of confidence. He needed her to … Well, she wasn’t quite sure, but she recalled his words:
Nothing happened.
She should carry on, then, as if nothing was amiss.

Giving herself a little shake of resolve, Naomi strode to the head of the table, organza skirts swishing, and seated herself in Jordan’s spot. Clara blinked, then nodded gratefully. Naomi gestured to the butler to begin serving. They passed a tense meal, despite Naomi’s best efforts at conversation. No one mentioned the vacant chairs, but the gaping holes drew gazes. During the meat course, Miss Elton burst into tears and ran from the room.

Judging everyone’s nerves to be sufficiently tried, Naomi skipped the sweet course and called for the gentlemen’s port.

She led the ladies to the parlor and was startled to see Kate spring to her feet from a sofa. Normally, the girl kept to her own room in the evening, rather than mingle in adult company. “Lady Kaitlin,” Naomi said. “What a lovely surprise.”

Turning a questioning look on Clara, the older woman answered in a quiet voice. “I thought would be … more prudent … to have her nearby.”

“Of course,” Naomi said, attempting to walk a line between polite agreement and confirmation of fears.

The women settled into their accustomed places. Miss Price looked strangely adrift without the slight figure of Miss Elton at her side. Miss Barker and Lady Griffiths sat side-by-side on a settee. Lady Griffiths’s fan blocked their faces from the others. No one remarked upon this rude behavior. Kate stood uncertainly to one side until Naomi gestured her to the loveseat, beside her. Aunt Janine sat with an open book in her lap, but her eyes kept darting to the door.

A maid entered and hovered near Clara, who stared blankly into the fireplace. The servant cast a helpless look in Naomi’s direction. Naomi took charge of ordering tea and refreshments.

As she’d done at dinner, Naomi attempted to ignite conversation, but no one seemed in the spirits for idle chatter.

Finally, after several moments of silence, Lucy Knight stood. “Where are the men?” she asked the room at large. “What is happening here? I haven’t seen my Mr. Young since last night, and no one will tell me where he is!”

As though her words had broken a dam, a flood of worries and questions spilled from the other ladies. Their fears fed Naomi’s. She suspected she had more actual cause for alarm than the others, after what she’d witnessed this afternoon. “Now, now.” Her voice rose above the din. “We must remain calm, ladies. I’m sure we are all perfectly safe.”

“Yes, but are our men?” Miss Knight demanded. Naomi had no answer.

When the small group of men entered a short time later, the women were once more subdued. Naomi’s stomach sank when she realized Jordan was still absent. Sir Randell moved toward Aunt Janine, who threw up her book in front of her scarcely exposed chest, like a shield. He sat beside her without an invitation. Janine gave him a look over her book, and Naomi wondered whether the two would start bickering again. Sir Randell ignored Janine’s glower, and she settled back in peaceable — if not affable — silence.

The other men spread themselves around the room, none of them seated. They looked all too much like sentries for Naomi’s comfort. She remembered the gun Jordan had tucked into his coat and wondered how many here were likewise armed.

Striving to reclaim a sense of normalcy for the evening, Naomi poured tea while Kate handed it around. Jordan’s friend, Mr. Ditman, took his cup from the girl. His eyes continued to follow her as she moved about the room. Naomi watched him uneasily. The men would not be drawn into conversation. Pretty Miss Barker took tea to her betrothed, Lord Sidney. He thanked her for the beverage and immediately lapsed back into silence.

The ladies spoke to one another in low tones under the watchful gaze of the five men standing around the parlor. Beside her, Kate squirmed in her seat. Naomi patted her hand reassuringly.

The girl lifted her other hand to block her mouth and leaned close. “Mr. Ditman keeps staring at me,” Kate whispered.

Naomi glanced at the man and hissed under her breath. He was always glowering and looking disapprovingly at people. Though Naomi had tried to think better of him for Jordan’s sake, she did not trust him, and his sudden interest in Kate disturbed her. “A moment,” she murmured.

Then she rose and crossed the room to where Clara sat beside Lady Gray. Naomi touched Clara’s arm to get her attention. “Kate is tired. I’ll see her to her room now, if that’s all right with you.”

“I’ll escort the girl,” Ditman interrupted. As he stood several feet away, his announcement drew the attention of other guests. Poor Kate’s face drained of color.

Naomi straightened and rounded on him. “What a highly irregular suggestion,” she said, trying to keep her voice light, though her face felt as rigid as ice. How dare he ogle Kate and then propose something so indecent!

The muscles in his jaw clenched, but he voiced no further objection as Naomi gathered Kate and swept her from the parlor.

Once in the corridor, Naomi hesitated. Her distrust of Mr. Ditman stayed her from taking Kate straight to her own room. Besides, after what she’d seen this afternoon, she didn’t like the thought of leaving Kate alone.

“Come,” she said as an idea struck her. “Let’s pay a visit.” She tugged the girl’s hand and led her to the nursery apartment. At her knock, the door opened on an unfamiliar face. The man was on the short side and slightly stooped of posture. His hair was a middling brown and receding from the front. He stared at Naomi and Kate.

Behind him, a familiar voice spoke in French, asking who was there. The man responded in Spanish, too rapidly for Naomi to understand. There seemed to be something deliberate about the man’s tone, emphasizing the change in language.

Another signal
, she thought. Another secret. Another lie. She was hip deep in them and suspected she didn’t know the half of it.

Enrique made an exasperated sound. His face appeared over the shoulder of the man blocking the door. “Eet’s Lady Naomi and the young miss,” he said in his heavily accented English. He rattled off something in French and swatted the other man on the back. He frowned and stepped aside to admit Naomi and Kate, then retreated to another room in the apartment.

“That is Bertrand, my tutor. Do not mind ’im,” Enrique said, gesturing them to the small seating area. The young man wore black pants, white shirt, and black waistcoat. The matching coat was probably in his dressing room. With another year or two on him, she’d think he was headed out for the evening. “He is not normally ’ere so late,” Enrique continued. “Bertrand goes to his ’ouse on the grounds before supper, but not tonight. My Lord Freese asked him to stay.” Enrique shrugged in a thoroughly Gallic fashion.

As she sank into a luxuriously soft seat, Naomi could not help but wonder at the room’s fine appointments. Though he was strangely strict about his ward’s social life, Jordan clearly doted on the boy. “We’re all under a bit of strain this evening,” Naomi said. “I thought you might enjoy some company. I know I’m glad to see a friendly face.”

Enrique flashed a roguish smile and bowed. “And glad I am to see you both. Eet is rare for two such beautiful ladies to grace my doorstep.” His dark hair flopped over a brow. With a casual flick, he brushed it aside. Naomi could have sworn Kate sighed.

“Lady Kaitlin,” Enrique said as he took a seat across from them, “I’ve ’eard much about you from your brother and your uncle and also from the fair Naomi. But I long to hear from
you
. I’m wild to know all about you. Tell me, which is your favorite bird?”

The girl radiated delight. “Why, I asked Jordan the very same question earlier today. How did you know?”

The French lad clapped his hands. “I did not know! But you see, we have this interest in common. What a fun discovery.”

Naomi sat back and sighed contentedly as she watched Kate and Enrique chatter about this and that. They both flourished in the company of another young person.

Despite Jordan’s order to stay away from his ward, she was glad she’d brought Kate here. Enrique was clearly starved for companionship; how could she ignore him? And Kate needed to forget the fears voiced in the parlor and Mr. Ditman’s alarming behavior. A friendship between the youngsters was just what they both needed.

Twenty minutes later, Clara found them and collected Kate. The ladies all bid Enrique a good night. He gave Kate a florid bow and winked at Naomi.

Out of the apartment’s friendly warmth, unease began to once more seep through Naomi’s bones. “Clara,” she said.

The older woman met her gaze. A look of understanding passed between them.

“Kate,” Clara said, wrapping an arm about her daughter’s shoulders. “I’d like for you to stay with me tonight.”

“Why, Mama?”

“Because my dear,” Clara said as she sedately led the small group toward their bedchambers, “sometimes mothers are taken with strange fancies and want their children close. You’ll have to forgive an old lady’s whim.”

Kate giggled. “You’re not old, Mama. But if it will make you feel better, I’ll stay in your room.”

As they rounded a corner, Clara caught Naomi’s eye. “It will make me feel better, sweet love. It will.”

She awoke to the soft voice of her maid. “My lady? Are you awake?”

Naomi extended her arms and legs in a languorous stretch and opened her eyes. Brenna stood beside the bed, arranging a tray with Naomi’s chocolate and toast. A small parcel beside the cup caught her notice.

“What’s that?” she inquired in a sleepy voice.

The maid handed her the rectangular item. “From his lordship. He wanted you to have it first thing.”

The plain, white-paper wrapping gave no clue to its contents. She gave it a gentle shake. A soft rattle inside intrigued her. “Thank you,” Naomi said.

After Brenna left, Naomi untied the bit of twine holding the paper closed, revealing a small box. She opened it and found a note.

Clara told me what you did at dinner last night. Thank you. Please enjoy these with my compliments. Do not leave your bed until you have eaten each one. If you’re still interested, I’d like to show you the parts of my home I enjoy. Join me later for a walk?

J

Beneath the note were three cubes of caramel dusted with cocoa powder. A slow grin spread over her face. Naomi rarely ate candy, and never first thing in the morning. What a rare indulgence. As she bit into the first sweet, she glanced at the note again.
Do not leave your bed …

Under her nightrail, heat slid over her skin and settled in her breasts. It was improper of Jordan to mention her in bed, wasn’t it? Knowing he’d ordered her to stay there and enjoy the buttery, chewy treats did strange things to her. Was he thinking about her right now, like she was thinking about him?

Did Jordan eat sweets in bed? What else did he do in bed? Her body continued to heat while her imagination supplied a number of possibilities. Jordan reading in bed. Having a cup of tea in bed. Why did the piece of furniture make even mundane activities seem forbidden? Then she thought about Jordan kissing her, and her mind relocated the action — to bed.

In her core, a dull ache throbbed. She squeezed her thighs together. The ache suddenly wasn’t dull anymore. Her belly tensed.

She took a whole caramel into her mouth and tried to concentrate on the melting sweetness sliding down her throat. No good. The candy was silk against her tongue. What was this man doing to her? Naomi squirmed.

Her hands fisted into her nightrail and rucked it up around her thighs. She reached down and touched her swollen, needy flesh. A finger slipped easily between the folds, its passage eased by the hot wetness she found there. Gliding up the cleft, she lightly circled the pearl at its apex and let out a hiss.

A knock at the door startled her. Naomi lurched to a sitting position, sending the box with its last seductive treat tumbling to the floor.

Brenna peeked around the door. “Ready to dress now, milady?”

“Yes, of course.” Naomi clambered out of bed and covered her legs before her maid could discover her state.

The process of readying for the day helped calm her, and by the time Naomi went downstairs, she felt once more in control of her body. Still, this morning’s unexpected madness alarmed her enough to send her looking for Aunt Janine.

She found her in the library, naturally. The woman was sitting at a table with a large book open before her; rubbings of hieroglyphics spanned the pages. Sir Randell stood at her shoulder.

“I tell you, that cartouche is the name of a goddess,” Aunt Janine said.

“Nonsense, woman,” replied Sir Randell. “That is not a cartouche, at all, but part of a larger rumination on pharaohs in general — not the name of a particular king and certainly not the name of a female deity.”