The Trouble With Seduction. Victoria Hanlen
it. The sooner he found his brother’s attackers, the sooner he could get back to the construction of his warehouses in Liverpool.
He already had two women to deal with, Cory’s fiancée and his mistress. And Mrs Ivanova could prove to be a conundrum. She knew things – personal things – and it was only a matter of time before she realized he wasn’t Cory. But she also might know why his brother had been viciously attacked. Whether he wanted to or not, Damen must continue to meet with her.
It had been his plan to parade around London’s popular attractions in his brother’s most eye-catching clothes to show that he was still alive – injured, but on the mend. He was pleased that, so far, his cuts and bruises made people look away rather than examine him too closely.
No one indicated they thought him anyone other than his brother. If the footman had been correct, Cory knew one of the villains. Eventually, they would seek Damen out, if for no other reason than to inspect their handiwork.
Apart from Mrs Ivanova, how convincing did he need to be? Cory had been back in London less than two weeks after years away.
Damen gazed at a plaster Iguanodon. Like him, it was not the real article. What did Lady Strathford see when she looked at him through those glorious wide-set eyes? Cory’s handsome face, frightfully beaten? Did she have the slightest idea he was an imposter? It had been a long time since a woman put his insides so in a jumble.
The next day the police inspector sat in Sarah’s parlor in his worn dark suit with a red poppy stuck in his lapel. An ominous scowl contorted his hard features. As he stared intently between Sarah and her solicitor, one eye bulged, appearing to grow larger, reminding her of a telescope.
Drops of perspiration glistened on her solicitor’s face. Though one of the most temperate rooms in Strathford Hall, the usually comfortable parlor did not relieve the man’s discomfort.
Sarah, on the other hand, struggled against the chill that coursed up and down her limbs making her palms clammy and her feet tap under her skirts.
This time, she kept telling herself, this time she refused to be intimidated. Inspector Hooker dare not accost her with defamatory questions and insinuations with her solicitor in attendance.
The inspector sniffed through his bent snout and rasped, “The recent discovery of blasting fuses now brings into question whether Lord Strathford’s death resulted from an unfortunate accident or foul play.”
“Surely, you don’t suspect my client of such deviousness?” Her solicitor wheezed as he mopped his brow. “At the time of her husband’s death Lady Strathford was visiting friends in Cambridge.”
“She has informed us of that fact. She did not need to be present,” the inspector growled. His mouth curled into an ugly sneer. “Blasting expertise can be bought, especially with some of our boys home from the Crimea.”
“What proof have you she arranged anything to harm her husband?” her solicitor shot back.
Hooker’s lips thinned. “Recently, Lord Strathford’s cousin filed a complaint. When the earldom passed to him, all the money in Lord Strathford’s estate went to Lady Strathford and—”
“Perfectly legal,” her solicitor interrupted. “His cousin received everything due in the entailment. The income and properties bequeathed to Lady Strathford were independent and not entailed. Lord Strathford could will his personal estate wherever he chose.”
The police inspector addressed her solicitor while he leveled his unsettling eye on Sarah. “The new earl has opened up a different inquiry.”
Sarah could hardly breathe. “What inquiry?”
“Quite bluntly,” the inspector smirked, “he claims you only married Lord Strathford for his money. You did the same with your previous husband, Lord Hardington. Both met with untimely deaths.”
“That is absurd!” Sarah protested. She didn’t have a choice in whom she married. Her father arranged both marriages. True, her first husband died only two years after they’d wed, but the grippe killed him. A doctor had been on hand throughout his whole illness.
“It has also come to our attention” – the inspector curled the side of one lip – “that at the time of his death, your husband was working on a project with another inventor. They’d made a significant breakthrough in the efficiency of an engine. He claims your husband made drawings and demands you turn them over to him immediately.”
“Who is this fellow?” she asked.
“A Professor Bodkin.”
She briefly searched her memory. “I’ve never heard of him. Nor do I know of any drawings.”
When the police inspector finally took his leave, Sarah thought she would faint. As she massaged her pounding temple, she turned to her solicitor. “Strathford’s odious cousin has already contested the will and lost. Now he hopes to send me to the gallows to finally get his hands on my husband’s money. And who is this Professor Bodkin?”
“Not to worry, my lady.” Her solicitor’s double chin wobbled. “You inherited your husband’s estate legally. We will get to the bottom of this professor’s claim.”
***
Damen stood in the vestibule of Strathford Hall, holding a bouquet of flowers, and feeling like the biggest kind of scoundrel. Nothing real could come of this association with Lady Strathford. Yet some part of him eagerly anticipated seeing her. Could one or two of Gormley’s punches have actually knocked something loose?
Having an attraction to Lady Strathford could only complicate an already convoluted situation. Additionally, she possessed certain characteristics he’d classify as off limits. In fact, she resembled a certain type of female he’d sworn to avoid.
Yet when she dumped her reticule all over his feet, he’d found her frank dialog and guilelessness intriguing. Her wide-eyed forthrightness not only tickled him but made him want to pick her up and kiss her just to see what she’d do.
He looked down at the flowers in his hands while the stark reality of what it meant to play Cory set in. Where his brother thrived on a devil-may-care, hedonistic profligacy, Damen’s stolid, sensible side squirmed with misgivings. The lifestyle and uselessness already threatened his need for order, accomplishment, and the moorings of responsibility. Hopefully, his stint as a decoy would be short-lived.
Mrs Ivanova made him uneasy. Then there was the fiancée, to whom he was yet to be introduced. Were any more females waiting in the wings? Cory, he knew, tended to collect them like some men collected guns – both were a delicate piece of machinery and equally as dangerous. Finding and apprehending his brother’s attackers might very well prove easier than juggling his women.
Down the spectacular marble-lined hall a door opened and a familiar figure emerged.
Damen cursed under his breath. Even after two decades he’d no trouble recognizing the ‘terror of his childhood.’
As the man advanced, he could see he’d added more girth and his bushy sideburns had grayed. On meeting gazes, the man’s pocked features and sour smirk shifted minutely.
Something resembling surprise deepened the wrinkles around his lips. Eerily, one eye focused in on Damen’s bruises. Then it probed his uninjured eye as if to ferret out every secret he’d ever kept, every detail he’d deliberately withheld. “Back for more, are you?”
The ambiguous question could have referred to any number of things, none of them pleasant. Damen fisted his hands. The man could still put him on the defensive. Well, he was no longer that frightened boy. Keeping his voice a dangerous calm, Damen made sure he injected the proper amount of irony. “Pleased to see me?”
Perceiving a confrontation brewing, the butler quickly retrieved a hat from a nearby closet and intervened. “Do you require anything