To Sin With A Scoundrel (34 page)

“Master Lucas.” The elderly cook waggled a wooden spoon, just as she had when he was a boy. “How many times have I told you
not to track your dirt into my kitchens.”

“I’m afraid I’ve lost count,” answered Lucas, cramming a bite of warm shortbread into his mouth. “I never was any good at
mathematics.”

The children chortled. Mephisto gave a low
whoof
.

“Incorrigible, as always,” she scolded, though her mouth tweaked up at the corners. “Sir Henry wishes to see you in his study.”
The spoon stirred again. “And mind that you wipe your boots and tuck in your shirt.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He winked at the children before dusting his hands and heading for the corridor.

“Ah, there you are, my boy.” Henry looked up with a smile from a sheaf of notes.

There must be some special tonic in the sea breeze, thought Lucas, for his uncle was suddenly looking years younger.

“Did you sleep well?”

Damn.
Lucas shuffled his feet, hoping he wasn’t blushing. “Quite. And you?”

“Extremely well. What a splendid idea it was to come here. I know that the country is probably boring for you, but your sacrifice
of pleasure is much appreciated. I think it will prove an excellent respite for the others, too.” The papers crackled. “Look!
Already Lady Ciara has solved the final mystery!”

Lucas felt a surge of excitement for her, mixed with a touch of pride in her accomplishment.

However, he masked his feelings by clasping his hands behind his back with a careless shrug. “Is it as important as you all
believed it to be?”

“Indeed it is.” Henry adjusted his spectacles. “Let me explain.” He cleared his throat. “The ancient Greeks established regular
trade routes to India, bringing back exotic spices to the West. The merchant ships also carried fresh foodstuffs from the
ports of call for the long voyage home. Well, by some fortuitous chance, a passenger interested in medicine noticed that a
sailor with an infected wound made a miraculous recovery after eating a moldy Malabar melon.”

“Mold.” Lucas made a wry face.

“Science is all about the unexpected,” said Henry with a smile. “The great Greek man of medicine, Hippocrates, did a number
of empirical studies, which verified the result. Now that Lady Ciara has deciphered the original text, she plans to do some
experiments of her own. We’ve sent one of the servants to town for cassava melons. Apparently she needs to cultivate a certain
mold known as
Penicillium notatum
. She will, of course, have to do some experimenting with how to distill its essence. But I’ve no doubt that she will come
up with a formula that works. Just imagine—a miracle drug!”

“Amazing.”

“Quite,” replied Henry. “It is all so very exciting to be a part of such a momentous discovery. She is running some tests
on moldy mushrooms right now, just to refine her procedures for handling the organisms.”

Lucas looked up from the intricate patterns of the Oriental carpet. “She and her friends figured all this out on their own?”
He crooked a rueful smile. “Clearly the Circle of Sin can run rings around the male intellect—save for yours, of course.”

“Oh, no. My brain does not turn nearly as quickly.” Henry chuckled. “Perhaps the current government ministers should cede
their places to the ladies. The war would likely be over in a fortnight.”

“I think they could solve any problem they put their minds to.”

“Speaking of complex conundrums, my boy…” The whisper of papers fluttered against the leather desk blotter. “Might I ask if
you have given serious thought to your situation with Lady Ciara?”

Lucas carefully avoided his uncle’s eye. “I take it you mean the sham engagement?”

“Yes.”

He chose his words carefully. “We haven’t discussed it of late.”

“Ah.” There was a long silence, and Lucas assumed that Henry, with his usual tact, had decided to drop the subject.

However, before he could excuse himself, a desk drawer opened, then shut with a soft
snick
. “Have I ever shown you this?”

Lucas moved in closer to the desk as Henry opened a tiny leather case. “I bought this a long, long time ago.” The ring, a
strikingly simple design of flawless diamonds and sapphires set in burnished gold—seemed to sparkle with its own inner life.
“And then I locked it away and forgot about it, leaving it to gather dust for all of these years.”

Lucas shifted his gaze.

“Am I a senile old fool to think of asking Ariel for her hand?” Henry forced a rueful laugh. “It’s a little late in life for
romance, is it not?”

Through the mullioned glass, Lucas watched the play of sunlight on the freshly mown lawn. “You are asking my opinion on matters
of the heart?”

“Yes, my boy. I value your judgment.”

“I would think that it is never too late for love.”

Henry’s smile was a little tentative. “You wouldn’t mind? Or feel abandoned?”

Lucas chuckled. “Good God, you have spent too much of your life worrying about me, Henry. I’m a grown man, though I might
not act like it very often.” Leaning over his uncle’s chair, he pressed a quick kiss to his brow. “I wish you happiness,”
he murmured.

Henry turned red. “She hasn’t said yes.”

“Well, she hasn’t said no,” he replied. “The only way to know for sure is to ask. And I suggest you do it soon.
Carpe diem,
remember?”

“Right. I’m not getting any younger,” quipped his uncle. “I shall try to screw up my courage. Tomorrow, maybe.”

“Excellent. I’ll help create a distraction, so that the two of you have the afternoon alone.” He thought for a moment. “I’ll
take Lady Ciara bird-watching, and suggest that the marchesa ride over to see Pevensey Castle, which has the ruins of an old
Roman fort on its grounds. One of the maids can take the children to play with the puppies.”

“Lud, you should have followed your friends into the military.” Henry grinned. “Wellesley could have used your tactical skills
in the Peninsular War.”

“Let’s concentrate on making a different sort of conquest, shall we?” said Lucas dryly.

“By all means.” Gripping the wheels of his Bath chair, Henry turned for the door. “Speaking of which, the ladies are still
working on their experiment. Shall we go see how things are progressing?”

As Lucas entered the laboratory, Ciara looked up a little shyly, or so it seemed to him. They had yet to speak to each other
since their parting just before dawn.

Their eyes met for an instant, and then, in a flicker of gold, she quickly lowered her lashes.

Strange, he felt a flutter inside, too. Other trysts had never affected him this way.

He didn’t dare try to analyze why.

“How is it coming?” asked Henry, wheeling a little closer to the work counter.

“We have just one more test to run through.” Alessandra added a touch of liquid to the measuring cup from her dropper. “Once
we have established a proper procedure, the final results should prove Ciara is right—I am sure of it.”

“Again, my congratulations, Ciara,” murmured Henry. “I am truly in awe of your brilliance.”

“Good heavens, I most certainly do not deserve all the credit. All of you helped in solving the conundrum.”

“You are far too modest,” replied Henry.

“
Si,
take credit where credit is due,
bella,
” added Alessandra. She checked the clock. “Time to add the next ingredient.”

Ciara nodded, her gaze intent on the glass beaker sitting atop a pedestal. “Then, in precisely forty-five seconds, we must
check a sample under the magnifying lens.”

Lucas had deliberately remained by the doorway, not wishing to distract Ciara from her work. He stood very still, admiring
the spark of wonder that lit in Ciara’s eyes as she adjusted the microscope. Her discipline, her dedication were simply breathtaking.
Brains and beauty.
He suddenly recalled Henry’s wistful description, and the regret in his uncle’s eyes that he had lost his long-ago love.

Love.

As if some missing ingredient had suddenly been poured into his brain, the answer to his discontent, his disenchantment with
his own aimless life, became blindingly clear. He turned away from the windows and pressed his palms to his eyes.

Love.

Lud, what a fool. He should have seen it coming. He should have run like the devil.

Damnation
. It was all wrong. He wasn’t right for Ciara. How could she be happy with a rakish scoundrel?

“Lucas?” Henry’s chair creaked as he rolled a touch closer. “Are you feeling unwell?”

“I—I just need a breath of air,” he replied. “Excuse me.”

Hurrying from the room, Lucas crossed the corridor and flung open the terrace doors. Sweat prickled at the back of his neck,
and his head was spinning in circles. Mad, Bad Had-ley seemed to have flown off into the night, leaving him a little lost
within himself.

He steadied his step and turned for the stables, hoping that a rousing gallop over the hills might help him find his footing.

“Lucas! Hell, I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“Jack.” He whirled around in surprise. “What the devil are you doing here?”

“Helping to keep you and your lady out of trouble.” Jack slapped the dust from his broad-brimmed hat. “It’s a damn long ride
down here from Town. I hope your uncle keeps a decent collection of claret in his cellar.”

“The smugglers on this coast deal only in the best,” replied Lucas. His own disquieting emotions gave way to a sharper sense
of urgency. In truth, he rather welcomed the distraction. “Come, we’ll fetch a bottle while you tell me your news.”

“Dev and Nicholas have discovered who is the ringleader of the ruffians-for-hire. He’s a former cavalry trooper, and our friends
convinced him to reveal who hired him to trample Lady Ciara’s son.”

“How?” asked Lucas. Not that he particularly cared how the information was obtained.

“By appealing to the man’s sense of soldierly camaraderie. And to his greed,” replied Jack. “Nicholas offered him a great
deal more than Sheffield’s family.”

“Any proof of their guilt?”

“Nicholas and Dev have a sworn statement from the fellow. And while it might not stand up in a court of law, our friends mean
to have a private discussion with the late marquess’s relatives.”

“Actually, they may leave that task to me. I mean to return with you to London first thing in the morning.” After relatching
the cellar door, Lucas took a moment to grab a corkscrew and glasses from his uncle’s study. “By the by, if you mean to smoke
those vile cheroots, Henry insists that it be done out on the terrace.”

Jack lit the tobacco from a branch of candles. “No need to gallop off in a rush. I wouldn’t have bothered to ride hell for
leather just to inform you of something we could have handled on our own.” The coal glowed a bright orange as he inhaled a
puff. “The thing is, Battersham has disappeared from Town, along with his mother. Nobody seems to know where they have gone.”

“The slimy little worm. He’s probably crawled off to hide in some hole.” Lucas tossed back his drink. “Am I supposed to be
alarmed by the news?”

“We just thought you should know.” His friend held his glass up to the fading light. “As a former soldier, allow me to offer
a word of advice. Never underestimate the enemy. Battersham may be a craven coward, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t dangerous.”

“Hmmph.” Setting down his glass, Lucas surveyed the darkening woods. “I have taken precautions, Jack. There are men patrolling
the grounds from dusk until dawn. And while I may not have your military experience, I assure you that if Battersham dares
show himself, I’ll beat him to a bloody pulp.”

“I doubt he would be fool enough to risk a frontal attack.” Jack blew out a ring of smoke. “He’s already hired one band of
thugs to do his dirty work. There’s no telling whether he’ll try again.”

“I’m not about to let down my guard.”

“Then enough said. Pour me another glass of wine. My throat is dry as dust from the road.”

“Help yourself.” Lucas handed his friend the bottle. “I had better go tell the housekeeper and cook that you will be staying
the night.”

“Bring some port with you when you return. By the look of the casks, that’s a very fine vintage that your uncle has stashed
underground.”

Lucas snapped off a half-mocking salute.

“I don’t suppose he has any London lightskirts tucked away in a discreet corner?” added Jack as he flicked a bit of ash from
his cheroot.

“Don’t you ever think of anything but drinking and wenching?” growled Lucas.

“That’s rather the pot calling the kettle black,” came the scathing retort. “What would you suggest?”

He thought for a moment. “Try enjoying the colors of the sunset and the sounds of the nightingales.”

“On second thought, you had better bring some brandy, too,” said Jack. “I need something stronger than wine to drown my fears
for your sanity.”

Lucas left his friend looking out over the gardens with a brooding stare.

Exhaling a sigh, Jack took a seat at the far end of the stone railing. He emptied the rest of the bottle into his glass and
leaned back against the wall. Hazed with a violet hue, the shadows flitted over the pale limestone, reflecting the darkening
palette of the twilight sky.