How to Fall for the Wrong Man (Ladies of Passion) Page 2

  He leaned closer. Beneath the starch used on his collar, he smelled like cedar and cinnamon. “This isn’t a business deal, Mary.”

  To me, it very much was.

  “You’ll have to make a convincing show that you’re in love.”

  I scoffed. “I’ll act so in love it will be nauseating.” I’d been in love before; I knew how good it felt.

  “Prove it. Let’s seal this with a kiss.”

  That bounder. He only demanded that as his price because it had been the first thing I’d denied him at age eleven. We’d had an understanding—friends only, no kissing. “What about the no-kiss rule?”

  “That was a decade ago, Mary. Break it.”

  My ears rang as he spoke the two words I’d silently begged him to say before he’d left for university. I’d never gotten to kiss him then, and curiosity enveloped me now. Raising myself on tiptoe, I brushed my mouth lightly against his.

  No, this was madness. I dropped back onto my heels.

  A spark flared in his eyes. In the next instant, his mouth was on mine again.

  I gasped. His arms enveloped me, lifting me until my weight settled on him, leaving me at his mercy. His palm held the back of my head steady as his other hand pressed me against him. He explored every inch of my mouth with his tongue. He tasted sweet, with a spice almost like cinnamon. His warmth spilled into me, pouring down my arms and torso. My head spun. With my free hand, I grappled for something to hold me steady and latched onto the lapel of his jacket. I’d been kissed before, but never like this. Who knew a botanist was this experienced with a woman’s body?

  When he dropped me, his receding warmth splashed over me like an icy bucket of water. I gasped, staring at him. A twin expression of horror crossed his face. At any other time, I might have been smug to see it. Not now.

  What had just happened? I couldn’t…kiss him like that. That was not a part of this agreement.

  The kitten mewled between us. He braced a paw against Sutton’s jacket, looking up.

  I swallowed hard, finding my voice. “I can’t do this.”

  “Mary—” His voice was hoarse.

  He reached for me, but I thrust the kitten into his arms instead.

  “His name is Patches. Your staff will know what to do with him.”

  Retreating from the alley, I searched the ground for my cap—there. I whacked the flattened garment against my thigh to shake out the dirt, then stuffed my braid beneath it without breaking my stride. I didn’t stop until I was safely inside the St. James’ Street shop.

  Sutton didn’t follow. Thank Zeus.

  What did I almost get myself into?

  Chapter Two

  Long after we parted on the street, my mouth burned, contaminated from Sutton’s kiss. I scrubbed the back of my hand across my lips for the tenth time, hoping to expunge the memory. No luck. I still felt echoes of his body pressed against me and his hot mouth on mine.

  Squaring my shoulders, I opened the front door of my townhouse to chaos.

  Puck, a big, fluffy sheep dog with fur the same mottled brown color as Edwin’s hair, chased Diamond, the black cat with the square-shaped patch of white on her chest. Puck’s claws clicked against the ground as he kicked up the runner during his chase. Both animals veered into the sitting room to the right. Puck jostled the yellow-and-purple patterned vase next to the sitting room door and nearly bowled over poor Jane, our maid. My breath caught as the vase teetered to the left. Swearing under her breath, Jane leaped to catch it. The vase clunked against the floor, but thankfully didn’t break. Not much in this house wasn’t sturdy enough to handle being knocked over once in a while. Blowing a strand of her gray-streaked red hair from her eyes, Jane offered me a weary smile.

  “Welcome back, Mary.”

  Abandoning the door, I nearly tripped over the wadded runner as I lunged to help Jane to right the heavy vase. Upright, the monstrosity stood as tall as my thigh.

  “Is there anything I can help with?” I asked.

  Jane shook her head. “I have everything under control.” More strands of hair fell into her face as she stooped to retrieve the duster she’d dropped when she’d dove for the vase.

  I straightened the thin yellow-and-blue runner, as faded as the rococo-patterned walls. A wisp of wind blew in from the open front door. I nudged it shut with my shoulder as I straightened and fished my braid out from beneath my cap. The heavy, stagnant air inside the house weighed on me, and I plucked at the cravat at my throat to loosen it.

  “What do you have there?”

  I smiled. “Wine for Papa.” I hefted my prize.

  Her nose scrunched with sympathy. “Ah, that day approaches again. You shouldn’t have to worry your head over it. Let us handle everything.”

  “Thank you, but I’d rather do it myself.” It was the only way I was able to connect with Mama, who had left us when I was so young I could barely remember her. Every day I seemed to lose another precious memory.

  “If you change your mind…”

  “I’ll tell you if I do.”

  Diamond’s forlorn yowl rang from within the sitting room, followed by a clang. A moment later, Diamond raced from the interior with Puck hot on her heels, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth.

  Jane scowled, pulling her skirts out of the way as the animals disappeared into a room down the narrow hall. “On second thought, I’d be forever grateful if you can get that mongrel to stop chasing the cats.”

  I grinned. “I’ll do my best.”

  She nodded, moving toward the stairs on the left-hand side of the entry way.

  As she disappeared up the stairs, armed with her duster, I followed the sounds of scrabbling and a plaintive mewl as I searched for Puck. When I called his name, he trotted from the breakfast room and plunked his bottom on the floor in front of me. His fluffy tail whapped against the runner.

  I knelt, giving him a good scratch over his neck and ears. “What have you been getting into this morning, boy?”

  His black-spotted tongue hung out the side of his mouth as he gave me a silly smile.

  I grinned back. “Have the mean old cats been taunting you again?”

  In answer, he rolled onto his back and presented his belly for more scratches. I obliged with a smile. Why weren’t men as polite as dogs, asking for what they want rather than taking? Edwin, especially.

  The smile slipped from my face at the reminder of the last thing Edwin had taken. That kiss haunted me. Puck whined as my fingers stilled. I patted his belly, halfhearted. With a huff, he rolled onto all fours and pinned me beneath a disappointed stare.

  “Sorry, boy.” I planted a kiss on his long snout. “Come on, let’s put this wine in the kitchen.”

  The dog’s claws clacked against the floor as he followed me down the corridor to the door at the end. Oddly, the downstairs rooms were empty and silent. Where was our footman, Brutus, or our long-term houseguest, Hariti? A knot of foreboding tightening in my stomach, I opened the door to the kitchen.

  Albert, our thin cook, busily seasoned the contents of a pot, but he wasn’t humming under his breath as usual. His hair stuck out around his bald pate, as if he’d been running his fingers through it. When I cleared my throat, he glanced up. His gaze was guarded.

  “Where is everyone?”

  His skyward gaze gave me the answer before he tapped his spoon against the rim of the pot and set it down. “Brutus is upstairs with Miss Hariti.”

  “Has something happened?”

  His mouth thinned. “I imagine she’ll want to speak with you herself.”

  “That isn’t an answer. Is she hurt?”

  After a moment’s pause, he said, “No.” He crossed to reach for the wine bottle in my hand. “Shall I put that in a safe place for you?”

  “Please.” I relinquished the bottle to him. “It’s for Papa, for…”

  He gave me a thin smile. “I remember.” As he half-turned, he spotted Puck with his nose dangerously close to the discarded spoon handle. He s
napped his fingers loudly. “Puck! That isn’t for you.”

  The dog laid his ears flat against his skull and slinked away. When I called him, he trotted closer with big, mournful eyes. He rubbed his face against my thigh.

  “Are you hungry?”

  I shook my head. “No, but do you have any scraps I can feed Puck?”

  Albert sighed. “That dog will eat us out of house and home if you let him.”

  “He’s a good dog,” I said, threading my fingers into the thick fur of his shoulders. The only time Puck misbehaved was when one of the cats got his attention. He didn’t mean to be so large and knock things over.

  With a rueful shake of the head, Albert crossed to a bowl on the worn table in the center of the room. He held it out to me. “I kept a few slivers of fat if you’d like to give him one.”

  I chose a piece on top and commanded Puck to sit. The moment he did, eyes gleaming and tail thumping the ground, I gave him the morsel. He took it from me gently, barely touching me with his teeth. His spotted tongue lolled as he waited for more.

  “That’s it for now, boy.” I turned to Albert. “You said Hariti was upstairs?”

  “To the best of my knowledge.”

  “And she isn’t hurt?”

  He shook his head, his expression tightening once more. “Ask her yourself if you don’t believe me.”

  The flat tone of voice he used convinced me that I would glean no other information from him. What had happened to Hariti? Despite the nightmares rattling through my brain, I managed to nod politely to Albert before I backed out of the kitchen.

  Heart hammering, I took the steps two at a time, keeping a wary eye out for furry obstacles in my path. Any cats scattered at Puck’s arrival. He eagerly chased up the stairs ahead of me, in search of a playmate. By the time I reached the second floor landing, he was nowhere to be seen.

  When I reached the room I shared with Hariti, I held my breath and stepped inside. The moment I found her hale and whole, perched on her bed and hunched over an open trunk with her mouth fixed in a moue, my knees weakened in relief. I braced my palm against the doorframe as I waited for my heartbeat to slow. The images of Hariti hurt faded with it.

  Although we no longer shared a bed, we continued to share a room in the cozy townhouse. Our narrow beds, once strung together to give us more space, now pressed against opposite whitewashed walls, separated by a scratched oak nightstand. A ruby screen in the far corner of the room provided some measure of privacy while we dressed. The thin carpet underfoot, patterned with faded red roses, stretched almost from wall to wall. A vanity pressed against the wall beside the door, and the single wardrobe next to it groaned with the weight of our combined clothing. There was barely space to walk, let alone fit a chest.

  Brutus, our tall, straight-faced footman who always seemed to be hiding a secret in his dark eyes, pulled out a beige dress from the wardrobe and held it up for Hariti’s perusal.

  “Not that one,” Hariti said. She spoke with a thick Indian accent, but took care to enunciate her words slowly. Her black hair was swept up into a pink head wrap, keeping it off her neck. “I wear it frequently and it is easy to wash clean.”

  Brutus returned the beige dress to the wardrobe and chose another. This time, Hariti nodded and reached for it, carefully folding the flamboyant yellow fabric before she tucked it into the trunk. The movement shifted her, revealing the sight of a half-full trunk of not only dresses, but also books, beauty supplies, and other personal artifacts. Once she tucked the dress into place, she peeked over her shoulder to meet my gaze.

  Puck bounded into the room and squeezed past me to curl up on my unmade bed.

  Turning to Brutus, Hariti said, “Thank you for your help. Would you mind if we continue this later? I would like to speak with Mary alone.”

  Brutus nodded. My ears rang as I stared at that trunk, my heart resuming its gallop. Why was she packing? Although she lived with us, she’d never joined me in the social circles my godmother insisted I mingle. She couldn’t have received an invitation to a party outside London. Numb, I stepped to the side to let Brutus pass. He shut the door behind him. The click of the latch rang through the silence.

  Hariti stood, but I spoke first.

  “You’re packing.”

  She clasped her hands in front of her. “I found a position as a school teacher.”

  “Here in London?” The look on her face told me all I needed to know. I swallowed hard. “You’re leaving?” My voice sounded hollow. I didn’t want her to go. Especially not now that Francine and Rose had abandoned me—

  Selfish. My friends’ departures had nothing to do with me. Their maids, also close friends of mine, hadn’t had a decision in the matter. Did Hariti?

  Of course not.

  Reaching out her hands to me, she squeezed between the bed and trunk to approach. She clasped my hands tight and urged me to side beside her on the bed. Puck rolled, exposing his belly and leaving brown hairs on my pale sheets. When I didn’t reach across to scratch him, he jumped down and tried to join us on the other bed. There wasn’t room, but he managed to squeeze behind us anyway.

  I pulled my clammy palm out of Hariti’s grasp and paid attention to Puck before he pushed us off. He squeezed between us, forcing us to shift and half-face each other, and laid his head on Hariti’s knee. He would miss her, too. I blinked back the sting of unwanted tears.

  Hariti sighed. “I cannot stay here forever, Mary.”

  “Why not?”

  Her eyes clouded. She looked down. My heartbeat thudded, overloud in the silence.

  After a moment, she confessed, “Staying here has been a dream. You—and your papa—have been so welcoming, when I needed it most. But I must live my life.”

  She was leaving me. I pressed my lips together, not trusting myself to speak. Stay. Please, stay. I’d begged the same of Sutton years ago, but it had only led to an impassible rift between us. I couldn’t lose Hariti, too.

  “Is this—” My voice broke. “Is this because of me?”

  She raised her gaze to meet mine. I fought off a wave of memories, reflected in her eyes. Passion and romance that had long since cooled to a steady friendship. Neither of us had taken a lover since breaking off our liaison months ago. Guilt surged as I recalled Sutton’s heated kiss.

  That doesn’t count.

  “No. As I said, living here has been a dream. I will always be grateful. I cherish our time together.”

  So did I. In truth, I’d been afraid of this day for a long while. When Hariti had started going out more often, I’d hoped it was to meet with a lover, and we would remain as close friends. Now…

  “Where will you go?”

  As she patted Puck’s head, Hariti answered, “I accepted a position for a woman who intends to open a school for girls in Virginia. It is not as far south or as warm as I hoped, but I think the change will be good for me.”

  “I hope you’re happy there.”

  “Mary.” She reached out to squeeze my hands. “We will write to each other. Everything I accomplish is only made possible because of you and your family. Do you remember how I was when you took me in?”

  “You couldn’t write. You insisted you had no useable skills.”

  “Precisely. You taught me to read and write. You gave me confidence in my abilities and in myself.”

  Pressing my lips together, I averted my gaze. “I should have found you a position in London, but I…was selfish. I fell in love with you. I wanted you here with me.”

  “I wanted to be here with you.”

  At the warmth in her tone, I glanced up. She smiled at me, encouraging.

  “You are very dear to me, Mary. This separation will be difficult for me, too. I am frightened.”

  “If this position doesn’t work out, you’ll always have a place here. Or—”

  —stay. A lump formed in my throat. I pulled my hands away and stared at my palms.

  “You need me to leave so that you can move on with your life,
as well.”

  “No, I don’t. I’m happy with my life as it is.” The words burned in my throat. I busied myself scratching Puck behind the ear. He, at least, would stay with me for a few years more. He was young yet.

  “You will be happy without me here, too.”

  I swallowed hard. “How do you know?”

  Hariti caught my gaze, her brown eyes glistening. “You make friends wherever you go. You have always had that gift.”

  I made friends, but eventually they left me behind. Francine, Rose, Hariti. Even Mama, though that hadn’t been by choice. No one asked me to follow. No one wanted me in their new lives.

  Except Edwin. If everyone was determined to start new lives, why not me? I could stay in London and—

  Marry him? Ludicrous.

  No, things were better exactly the way they were.

  Footsteps, muffled by the midnight fog. A shadow crossed in front of the street lamp at the corner of the street. Papa.

  I strode to the mantle. The tallow candle had burned low. I used it to light a new one. With a slight tremor, I poured out a finger of Papa’s favorite whiskey into a tumbler. I carried it to the table and arranged it next to the cheroots he liked to smoke in the evening and the book on ancient Greek law we were in the process of reading aloud to each other. The handkerchief squashed between the pages only marked us a dozen pages into the book.

  Smoothing out my skirt, I tried not to fiddle as I waited for him to enter the house. A minute passed. Had I been mistaken again?

  The door opened and shut. “Papa?” I smiled and stood. I hadn’t seen him since Sunday. Usually, he rose before I left and returned after I retired. He did important work, the kind of work I’d dreamed of doing as a child. Perhaps, through his legal championing of women’s rights, the next generation of women would be accepted into university where I was turned away.

  His thin form peered into the doorway. He looked haggard. Dark circles ringed his eyes and the thinning hair on his head was tousled. Deep lines framed his mouth. “Mary, you’re awake.”