Enticing Miss Eugenie Villaret (3 page)

“While you are running errands, I’ll make Mr. Howden’s acquaintance on the pretense of buying the business.”

“I’ll be interested to hear his response.” Will wouldn’t be satisfied until
he
straightened out whatever mess he found his uncle’s company in, if indeed there was a problem at all. “Once we know the lay of the land, I’ll switch back into myself and meet the widow.”

“Marisole,” Eugénie called to her maid, “are you ready yet?”

“I would be if you were. I’m getting your bonnet, miss. I know you did not.”

Eugénie twisted her lips into a rueful smile as her maid stepped out of the dressing room. “I do not suppose we could forget it.”

“Non
.
”
Marisole pulled a face. “Even Dorat mentioned it to me.”

“We certainly do not want Maman’s dresser involved. Very well, give it to me.” Eugénie took the broad-brimmed hat from her maid, placed it on her head, and tied the wide black ribbon off to the side of her chin. “There, are you happy?”

Marisole looked critically at Eugénie. “Now you’re ready. Dorat is correct, you know. You are almost dark enough to be a mulattress, and that gray gown does you no favors.”

“That cannot be helped. I am in mourning.” Eugénie glanced into the mirror and had to acknowledge her maid was right. Between her tan and the dull gown, she appeared older than her one-and-twenty years. Black might have been a better hue, but her mother insisted she go into half mourning. She pulled on her silk knit gloves and took the parasol from her maid.

“Dorat says that you are no longer in mourning and should wear colors again.”

Eugénie ignored her maid. Her
beau-papa
was the only father she’d ever known, and if she wanted to continue to mourn him, she would. Papa would understand.

Half-way down the step street to town, a gloved hand grabbed her arm.

Her friend Cicely Whitecliff took a breath. “Stop. I waved, but you walked right past. What are you in such a brown study about, and where are you off to in such a hurry?”

“Sorry.” Eugénie gave a rueful smile. “I was just thinking.” An inkling of an idea crept into her mind. She couldn’t put Marisole’s position at risk by asking her to help, but Cicely would be perfect. She knew everything there was about the shipping business. “I’m going to buy some ribbon. Would you like to come with me?”

“Yes, that is my destination as well.” She linked arms with Eugénie. “The ships will soon cease arriving for a couple of months. I don’t wish to take the risk of running out.”

Which meant that any other lady needing pale blues, pinks, or white would be out of luck until November. “I’m glad we don’t wear the same colors. I’d never find what I need.”

When they got to Kongens Gade they turned right. Eugénie needed to put her plan in place soon. She lowered her voice. “I need to speak to you alone.”

“I take it you don’t want Marisole to overhear?”

“Exactly. What she does not know cannot hurt her.”

“Well, then”—Cicely glanced back at the maid—“come to my chambers on our way back home. Marisole can chat with my maid, and you and I shall have a comfortable coze.”

“Thank you.” Eugénie squeezed her friend’s arm. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Cicely smiled. “You need never find out.”

A weight slid from Eugénie’s shoulders. At least she wasn’t in this alone anymore.

Several minutes later they entered the haberdasher’s shop. As she had suspected, the stock was already low. She’d just finished paying for her purchase, when Cicely gasped.

“I’ve never seen
him
before!”

“Who?” Eugénie stepped over to one of the front store windows.

“The tall man with the broad shoulders and the most lovely wavy blond hair.” Cicely’s tone was all breathless anticipation. “He looks like a gentleman, as well.”

Eugénie stared at the man on the other side of the street. “I do not recognize him either.”

Cicely’s blue eyes had widened slightly, and her breath came a little faster. Eugénie raised her eyes to the ceiling and shook her head. Her friend was the biggest flirt she knew. Fortunately, all the gentlemen they knew here realized it was all done in innocence. A gentleman from elsewhere might not. “I thought you said you were not going to look at another man until you went to England for your Season.”

Her friend’s mouth opened and closed. “I
couldn’t
have said any such thing.” Cicely glanced back out the window. “And even if I had, it wouldn’t apply to
him
.”

Eugénie took her friend by the elbow. “Come, I need to buy paper for Maman.”

“Perhaps I can manage to bump into him,” Cicely said hopefully.

“More likely,” Eugénie responded in her most acerbic tone, “you’ll trip over your feet staring at him, or run into someone you don’t want to. How can you even think of men at a time like this? When my family is in so much difficulty?”

“Just because you are not . . . Oh, look.” Her friend came to a stop. “He’s going into your family’s warehouse.”

Eugénie jerked to a halt as well. So he was. What business had he there? Could that stranger be part of the reason the company was in trouble, or that Mr. Howden was lying? Her heart thumped painfully against her ribs as she fought down the fear that the business was indeed in difficulties. She took a breath and gave herself a shake. Even more reason to enlist Cicely’s help in discovering what was going on, and immediately.

As Will left the printer’s, he saw Andrew head down an alley between two warehouses. Hopefully his friend would be successful. Will made his way to Mr. White’s tailor shop. He was just about to enter the premises when a young woman, who appeared to be towing her friend down the street, ran into him. He put out a steadying hand and gazed down into the warmest brown eyes he’d ever seen. Curls the color of roasted coffee beans escaped from beneath her wide-brimmed hat, and for some reason, he couldn’t let go of her. A whole different kind of heat, unrelated to the climate, rose within him. God, she was beautiful. Her rosy lips pursed briefly before the ends curled up a bit. He’d never been so immediately struck by a woman in his life. Will took her hand, bowing over it as he felt along her fourth finger of her left hand. There was no indication of a ring under her gloves. He sent up a brief prayer.
Please let her be a widow
.

“Excuse me, ma’am.” He smiled. If she was a
miss
, she’d correct him. “I must not have been watching where I was going.”

Her eyes widened as she stared boldly back at him. When her lips parted slightly, it was all he could do not to kiss her. Feel their softness against his. Explore her mouth and the rest of her body.

“No,” she responded slightly breathlessly. “I believe it was my fault.”

A giggle caused her to glance away. The lady’s companion, the perfect picture of an English maiden—golden-haired, dressed in a froth of muslin and lace—giggled again, reminding him why he’d left home. He turned his attention back to the dark-haired woman, willing her to gaze into his eyes again, but the moment was lost.

She blushed and glanced at his hand, still holding hers. “My friend and I must be going.”

Unfortunately, he could no longer see her face, but her sultry, accented voice caused every muscle in his body to tighten. Who the devil was she, and when could he see her again?

“Sir.” Her tone grew colder. “I must insist you release me.”

Will was surprised at how hard it was to remove his hand. One by one, he peeled his fingers from her. “Yes, of course. Just making sure you were steady on your feet.” God. That sounded weak even to him. The plain fact was that he didn’t want to let go of her at all. Something about her made him want to pull her to him and ensure the woman knew she belonged to him.

It suddenly occurred to Will she was dismissing him. He couldn’t remember the last time that had happened. Or the last time he’d acted a complete fool over a woman. When she raised one well-shaped brow, he hid a smile and bowed again. “I’ll just be on my way.”

The woman inclined her head and continued down the street. Will watched her for a bit before entering the tailor’s shop. He had to discover who she was. The bell rang as he opened the door.

“Good day to you, sir,” a man said, in what Will thought might be a thick Danish accent.

Will glanced toward the darker interior of the shop, waiting for his eyes to adjust from the bright sun.

A stocky young fellow with light blond hair came from around the counter. “May I help you?”

Or at least that’s what Will thought he said.

“Yes.” The woman’s scent, one he’d never smelled before, lingered in the air, tantalizing him. He had to find her again. “I’m in need of new suits.”

The clerk smiled.
“Hoop om indruk Juffrouw Villaret?”

That sounded something like a form of German. Drat, the man was deuced hard to understand, though Villaret sounded French, which would explain her accent. Will knew German, and the title sounded like Frau. Which would mean she’d been married. “Is that her name,
Frau
Villaret?”

The man grinned.

This was exactly the turn of events Will wanted. His voice was calmer than he felt as he anticipated the chase. “Well then, suits.”

The clerk motioned Will to the back of the shop, and said something that sounded almost like “quite an armful.” Even if Will couldn’t understand all the words, the clerk’s tone was insolent. He had the sudden urge to plant the young man a facer for referring to her in that manner.
Damn
. He couldn’t even ask about her now.

“I’ve told you before, Mr. Linden”—a thin, bespectacled, older man who spoke the King’s English entered from a side room—“keep your mind on your work and not on the ladies.” The man addressed Will. “I’m Mr. Smith, the owner.”

“Munford. I’ve recently arrived from England.”

“We are glad for your custom, sir. If you’ll follow me, we’ll get you measured.”

A half hour or so later, the bell on the door rang. Will looked over to see Andrew enter and give a short nod. That must mean his meeting with Howden had gone well. Good, perhaps this endeavor would go smoothly, giving Will the opportunity to discover more about the delectable Mrs. Villaret.

Smith stepped back and made another notation in his notepad. “If you’ll come back around in the morning, Mr. Munford, I’ll have a coat for you to try on.”

“Thank you. Do you know of an inn or tavern nearby, where I might get cold water to drink?”

“The Happy Iguana is down the street. Turn right when you go out the door. It’s got a bar downstairs and a dining room on the first floor. If you get tired of water, the rum is excellent, as is the brandy.”

“Thank you again, Mr. Smith.” Will slid a glance at Andrew before walking out the door. They could talk at the tavern. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

As Will stepped onto the pavement, he searched the street, but, of course, there was no sign of Mrs. Villaret. Surely there must be a way to find her. All he had to do was figure out how.

A
n hour later, Eugénie and her friend entered the large parlor on the lower level of Whitecliff House. Cicely’s apartment consisted of one large room, flanked on one side by her bedchamber and dressing room, and on the other by a small parlor with her piano and books.

Cicely called for coconut water. After her maid left, she motioned to a settee positioned against the back wall. “No one can hear us from here. Now, tell me what is wrong.”

With her flaxen curls and wide cornflower-blue eyes, Cicely gave every indication of being a silly widgeon, yet she had the sharpest mind of anyone Eugénie knew.

She chewed her lower lip. “I need to look at the business’s books, without Mr. Howden catching me.”

“Because?” Cicely asked, drawing the word out.

“He’s been telling Maman that it is losing money.”

Cicely heaved a loud sigh and made a “come on” motion with her hand. Eugénie told her about her previous attempt to view the ledgers and Mr. Howden’s threat to quit.

“Hmm.” Cicely pursed her lips in thought. “I know my father hasn’t heard your family’s company is in poor condition.”

“Mr. Howden said he was keeping it a secret.” Eugénie untied her hat and flung it down next to her. “It’s bad enough that Papa is . . . gone.” She fought the tears threatening to fall. “That is dreadful, but now Maman worries all the time about money as well. Nothing cheers her.”

“And you can’t talk her round?”

“Not on this.” Eugénie pressed her lips together. It hadn’t been for lack of trying either. “She is too frightened.”

“Well, then”—Cicely drew out a long pin, then plucked her bonnet from her head—“we shall pick an evening and go to the offices. It will probably be better if I invite you to spend the night with me. That way we’ll only have to worry about sneaking back into this house, and that is easily done.” She frowned. “We won’t have much time.”

“Yes. That is an excellent idea. It would be just my luck that one of my sisters would awaken if I attempted to steal back into my house.” As her friend was an only child, she had the floor beneath the main one to herself. No one would notice them leaving or returning. “Do you know what to look for?”

“Of course.” Cicely grinned. “My papa has been showing me what I need to run the company. After all, I do not have a brother to take it over. Of course, his fondest wish is that I will marry a gentleman in shipping. Just don’t tell anyone. Mama says it will scare potential suitors away.”

The tension threatening to make Eugénie’s head ache eased. Perhaps now she would be able to protect her family. “I’m so glad I decided to confide in you. I knew I’d have a hard time doing it myself.”

“You’re not alone.” Cicely hugged Eugénie. “I’ll do everything in my power to help you. We shall involve my papa if need be. Now tell me, what do you think of the blond gentleman we saw earlier?”

“I do not think anything of him, but I do wonder what he wants with Mr. Howden.” Eugénie couldn’t help but scowl. Something felt very wrong.

Cicely closed her eyes as if she were in pain.

If Eugénie didn’t say something, her friend would go on about him until she did. Cicely could talk about men all day. Eugénie capitulated. “Oh, very well. I suppose he was handsome.” She paused for a moment before adding, “If you like that sort.”

“Then it’s a good thing I do.” Cicely laughed. “I shall ask Papa to invite him to dinner. He won’t be hard to find. It’s a small island and he’s new.”

“Cicely Elizabeth Whitecliff!” Eugénie couldn’t believe how brazen her friend could be. “You know
nothing
about him!”

A crafty look appeared on her friend’s face. “No, but if I show an interest, Papa will discover all that is necessary.” She widened her eyes. “Just think how much money I’ll save him if I don’t require a London Season.”

Cicely would, of course, be a success. Yet from what Eugénie had heard about the English, her own coloring was too dark for her to be considered a beauty in London. Why would she want to go to a place where she would be pitied for her brown hair and eyes? And now she might not even have Cicely to keep her company. Eugénie slumped back on the sofa. “I’m afraid I’ll have no choice about a London Season. Maman is talking about all of us going to England.”

“Oh no!” Cicely jumped up in a very unladylike manner. “I’d never see you again.”

The thought of not being with her very dearest friend caused Eugénie’s throat to close painfully. “You could visit.”

Yet even to her, Cicely visiting didn’t sound likely.

“Not if you are treated as a poor relation to the earl.” Cicely plopped back down on the settee. “I’m quite sure poor relations aren’t allowed visitors.”

“You are probably correct.” Sooner rather than later, they needed to inspect the books. At least then she’d know the truth. Though if Howden was lying, she didn’t know how she’d broach the subject to Maman, or what to do about it. Eugénie would just have to leave that for later. “Let’s go to the warehouse tomorrow evening. There is nothing else going on.”

Cicely nodded. “I’ll ask Mama to send a note to your mother.”

“
Bon
. Then all will be well.” Once Eugénie discovered exactly how Wivenly Imports fared, perhaps she would write to the earl herself.

“And I,” Cicely said, grinning, “shall be able to concentrate on the gentleman I saw to-day.”

Eugénie might not be interested in the fair-haired gentleman, but the other one she’d run into this afternoon had enthralled her senses. She could still feel the heat of his hand on her arm, and the look he’d given her, as if he could see her soul. His lips were shaped as if a sculptor had chiseled them from marble. There was nothing soft about the rest of his face either. His nose had a slight bump, as if it had been broken at one time, and that saved him from looking too pretty. His hair, what she could see of it, was brown with gold streaks. His eyes were sapphire. They reminded her of the color of the deep blue water between the islands.

However, this was no time to be thinking of men.

One saw many sailors and other travelers, but it was odd to have two such comely new gentlemen in town at the same time. Especially one interested in her father’s business. She hoped for Cicely’s sake her concerns were groundless.

Will sat at a corner table on the ground floor of the Happy Iguana, away from the windows but where a slight breeze could still be had. He would have liked to sit right in front of the large openings, but didn’t want what he and Andrew had to say overheard.

Even in here, the range of skin colors seemed infinite. It was so different from England, where pale complexions abounded. A couple of well-dressed men entered the bar. Without the red-and-white cockades on their hats, Will would have thought they were white. But they were free men, and obviously well-to-do. Still, the Danes refused to grant them rights equal to white men of their same status, even those born free. Thank God the English had ended the slave trade.

A young serving girl with skin the color of tea lightened by milk brought cold water and coffee. He turned down cream and sugar. After hearing from the captain about the plight of the cane plantation slaves, he’d do what he could to avoid using it. When he returned home, he’d make sure to use only sugar made from beets. Taking a sip, he put the hot coffee back down to cool.

Thoughts of Mrs.—that had to have been what the clodpole of a clerk had said in German—Villaret stole into his mind. He gave himself an inner shake. This was no time for self-doubt. She was exactly what he’d wanted, and it wouldn’t do to look a gift horse in the mouth. Whoever she was, the woman hadn’t been at all shy when she’d met him eye to eye. A companion, perhaps, to the flighty young lady? She’d been dressed too well to be a maid, yet the gray of her gown did nothing to complement her. At first he’d thought her skin had been browned by the sun—but now, after seeing the different hues—was it the sun? Perhaps she was a light-skinned mulattress, and that was the reason the clerk called her “an armful” instead of being more respectful.

He was almost certain she hadn’t worn a wedding ring. She’d probably had to sell it to make ends meet. Whoever Mrs. Villaret was, he planned to know her intimately. At last a woman who wasn’t chasing him, and if he must work a bit for it, his conquest would be all the sweeter. A delightful task he’d attend to as soon as his business was complete.

“Will.”

He jerked his head up as Andrew slid into the seat across the table from him.

“What’s got you so distracted?” Andrew signaled the bar maid. “I had to repeat myself twice before you heard me.”

Lush, chestnut-brown hair and bold eyes the color of fine brandy, with a figure made for love.
“Nothing.” Will took a sip of his coffee, now lukewarm. When the servant came over, he ordered two grogs. Once the drinks arrived, he asked, “What did you discover?”

“I met with Howden and told him I represented a gentleman who wished to invest in or possibly buy a company here.” Andrew took a sip of the rum. “It took me quite a while, but I allowed him to think my principal had a large shipping and import business. After a good deal of talking, he told me, quite confidentially”—Andrew rolled his eyes—“that the company is for sale but the owner wishes to keep it quiet—and it’s in shipshape and Bristol fashion.” A sparkle appeared in his eyes. “Which, for the uninitiated, means doing extremely well.”

“You’re quite the wit.” Will tried and failed to scowl. “I know what the phrase means. Go on.”

“Someone else is interested in buying the company.”

Will put down the glass he’d raised to his lips. He didn’t think he was going to like what came next. “And?”

“That was the end of his confidences.” Andrew took a long pull on his drink.

“No one has approached my father about buying Wivenly Imports, and he couldn’t make a decision without my aunt’s approval in any event.” The only scenario Will could imagine was straight out of the romance books his sisters read: The dastardly villain convinces the poor widow to sell, thereby enriching himself. All it would lack was the young daughter whom the scoundrel wanted to marry. “You’re not going to tell me that this Howden fellow has lied to my uncle’s wife?”

“I don’t know.” Andrew shrugged. “It certainly seems far-fetched. Still, stranger things have happened.”

This was preposterous. Will tossed back the rest of his drink. “How dare he think he can do this to a member of my family! Not to mention the additional grief he’s caused my uncle’s widow.”

“There was something else.” Andrew paused for a few moments. “I was unable to see his books. He said he’d have to get permission from the owner.”

“We need to move quickly in the event he attempts to hide anything.” Will caught the barmaid’s attention and ordered two more drinks. “It’s time to become myself again.”

“If you do that, you’ll scare him off.” As Andrew stared out the window across the room, his lips tilted up. “There must be a second set of books to show the widow, in the off chance she asks. As Mr. Howden didn’t wish to show me the accounts, care to do a midnight run to the offices of Wivenly Imports?”

Will’s lips curved up as well. He hadn’t had a real lark in ages. “Break in, you mean?”

Andrew’s gaze sparked with mischief. “Indeed.”

They couldn’t get in any real trouble. After all, Will’s father was a trustee, and he had documents authorizing him to act on his father’s behalf. “When?”

His friend lifted his glass. “Tomorrow night. We’ll need to send someone round to keep watch and discover what time the office opens and closes, and if there is a guard.”

“I’ll send Griff. He needs an occupation.” Will lifted his tumbler in a toast. “To a mission swiftly resolved.”

The next evening, shortly before midnight, Eugénie and Cicely helped each other don dark gowns.

“Why did you have to wear
that
?” Cicely turned up her nose. “It didn’t become you when it was new. I still don’t know why you bought it. It’s not at all like any of your others.”

“It
is
the only gown that would not be missed if something happened to it.” Eugénie swung her cloak over her shoulders. Her friend was right. With the high, tucked bodice of twill, one would have to have a much longer neck than she did to wear it comfortably. The dark color, more closely resembling the vegetable’s dull shade rather than the usual lovely purplish red normally associated with aubergine, made her look ill. Even after she’d picked off the bright yellow trim, the gown was still hideous.

She’d only accepted it because she felt sorry for the seamstress. “My maid was to have cut it up for rags, but I told her I’d already done it. I knew it would come in handy one day.”

Cicely’s lips formed a
moue
. “If anyone saw you in that, who knows what they would think.”

“The whole point is
not
to be seen.” Eugénie pressed Cicely’s cloak into her hands. “Please, may we go?”

When they reached the gate letting out onto the step street, Cicely’s footman, Josh, awaited them. He had to be in love with her to take such a risk. If they were caught, he would be let go. However, Cicely always could twist men around her fingers.