Enticing Miss Eugenie Villaret (5 page)

Cicely glanced up in surprise. “Yes, of course.”

Eugénie pulled her into her papa’s office and closed the door. “I cannot be alone with him. The man is a
loup
.”

“A what?” Cicely asked, as Eugénie made her way to the cupboard by feel and replaced the journal.

“A . . . a, oh, I cannot think of the word. It is in ‘Le Petit Chaperon Rouge,’ a story my Maman told me. He is in lamb’s clothing.”

“A wolf?” Cicely asked doubtfully.

“Oui, oui, exactement.”
Eugénie was so glad her friend understood. “He will devour me.” She drew a shuddering breath. “And I fear I will allow it.”

Cicely caught Eugénie in a hug. “No, you will not. I’ll protect you.”

“If only you could.” Perhaps after tonight she would never see him again. If he came to her home, she’d lock herself in her chambers. In fact, she would not leave her apartment until he left St. Thomas and returned to England. Surely the earl would want him back quickly.

Will watched as the two women entered the other office. “Did she tell you her name?”

“No.” Andrew grinned. “She’s much more intelligent than you’d think.”

That was hard to believe. “Is she, indeed?” Will picked up a stack of ledgers. “Be careful or you’ll find yourself caught in the parson’s mousetrap.”

His friend had a lopsided grin on his face. “The right woman is all that is needed to make the institution not only bearable, but enjoyable.”

“You must be jesting.” Love complicated everything. It turned a perfectly normal man into a fool. At least it had for all Will’s friends and his father.

The back of his neck prickled with awareness as Mrs. Villaret reentered the main off ice. At least the current object of his desire was not a woman he could ever consider marrying. She would no doubt come around quickly when she discovered he was a viscount. Until then, he’d enjoy the hunt.

After the women returned, Will studied the room until he was convinced nothing was out of order. When the four of them reached the outside door, he nudged the still sleeping servant with his foot. The boy turned over and mumbled something.

“Josh,” the English lady said in a harsh whisper. “Get up.”

The last bit was reinforced with a nudge of her foot to his ribs.

“Miss—” His eyes widened, and he glanced wildly around until the woman laid a hand on his arm.

“It turned out to be all right,” she said in a firm tone, cutting the lad off before he could reveal her name, “but it could just as well not have.”

Will almost felt sorry for Josh as the young man hung his head. Still, his failure to keep guard could have ended badly.

“Now go out and make sure there is no one around.”

“Yes, miss.”

As they filed through the door, Andrew held his arm out for the blond lady. Will was about to do the same for Mrs. Villaret when she drew out a large set of keys, then locked the door behind them.

He put out his hand. “I’ll take those.”

“What do you need them for?” she asked in a defensive tone laced with suspicion.

“To go back inside again. You
do
want to help the Wivenlys, do you not?”

It was almost impossible to see her face, but her motions were hesitant.

“I’ll figure out a way to return them when I’ve sorted this mess out.”

Reluctantly, she handed them over. “See that you do. They might be missed.”

Before she had a chance to walk off on her own, he tucked her hand around his arm and they followed the others to the main street. A little over half-way to where his hotel was situated, Josh motioned for them to stop. Up ahead, a small group of drunken ruffians stumbled down the street singing songs, but if they saw the women, it could turn ugly.

“Down the alley,” Will ordered as he pulled her around the corner between the buildings, further into the dark than the others.

He pressed Mrs. Villaret against the wall of a building, shielding her from sight. It appeared fate was with him after all. He’d make sure the woman knew she was his. He brushed his lips across hers, trapping her against the wooden structure. Good Lord, she tasted of lemon and honeysuckle. He ran his tongue across the seam of her mouth, and she gasped, opening her lips enough for him to take advantage of her misstep and slide in, claiming her. Running his tongue over her teeth, he tasted before stroking her tongue with his. She was still for a few moments, then she moaned softly and reciprocated, mirroring his caresses, except that her hands gripped the sides of his coat rather than sliding up his shoulders and around his neck as most women would do.

God, she tasted better than the finest wine. Her lush body finally sank against his, and he cupped her bottom, holding her to him. With his other hand, he stroked the underside of one breast, brushing the tight bud of her nipple, and was rewarded with a sigh. It wouldn’t be long before she’d be beneath him, naked, where he’d learn every inch of her.

All too soon the men had passed, and Will lifted his head, reluctantly breaking the kiss. He would have gladly remained there for much longer. If he could have seen her expression, he knew her eyes would be glazed with desire. “Come, it’s safe now.”

She touched the tips of her fingers to her lips and nodded slightly.

Obviously, it had either been a long while since she’d been properly kissed, or her husband had been a lout, unconcerned with her pleasure. If that was the case, Will would take great delight in teaching her the joys of the flesh. He might even take her back to England with him. He twined his arm with Mrs. Villaret’s as they caught up with Andrew and his lady.

When his little group reached one of Charlotte Amalie’s many stair streets, the Ninety-Nine Steps, Mrs. Villaret held her hand out. It trembled a little. “G-Good night. We can go safely from here.”

That’s what she thought. Will wasn’t letting her out of his sight until he had to. “We are perfectly happy to accompany you the rest of the way.”

One slender shoulder lifted in an eloquent French shrug. “As you wish.”

As silently as possible, they climbed. The smallest noise seemed louder the higher they went.

Suddenly the blonde stopped and her footman opened a door built into a wall.

Mrs. Villaret tugged her hand from his grip. “Now you must leave. Please be quiet going back down. No one can know you were here.”

“Very well.” Will lifted her fingers to his lips and lowered his voice to a seductive whisper. “Sleep well.”

If he only had a few more moments alone with her, he’d ensure she’d dream of him.

She turned from him and fled through the door, following Josh and the blonde. After it closed and the lock snicked into place, he and Andrew made their way back down the stairs.

They refrained from speaking until they had almost reached the hotel.

“This,” Will said, “has been an interesting evening. Not that I’m complaining, but I don’t understand why the scoundrel kept a diary.”

“Some men are obsessive about keeping a record of everything they do. He wouldn’t be the first man who’d been caught due to his compulsion.”

At least the journal made it easier for Will to deal with Howden. “What did you find in the diary?”

“A merchant by the name of Edgar Shipley is behind the conspiracy to make Mrs. Wivenly think the business is broke. He also has hopes of marrying her daughter.”

So that was Mr. S. Will’s fist clenched. “Does he indeed?”

“You can easily see how he might believe it would work,” Andrew said thoughtfully. “A wealthy man offers security to a family by marrying a daughter. It occurs often enough.”

“Not in my family.” The man was an encroaching mushroom as well as being a scoundrel. “I suppose I shall have to stop such a misalliance from occurring.” His next thought made him grin. “I shall be a hero, just like in one of those novels my mother likes to read.”

Andrew rolled his eyes. “Only in your own mind.” His tone turned solemn. “You’re right, though. If he was in any way an eligible parti he’d not be forced to resort to such a scheme.” They reached the front steps of their hotel. “You appear to be very interested in the dark-haired lady.”

“Mrs. Villaret. She’s the widow I told you about.”

Andrew glanced at him skeptically. “Are you quite sure? She seemed rather . . . green, I suppose, to be a widow.”

No, Will was sure his friend was mistaken. “What do you mean by that?”

“Not only did she look too young, it is also the way she reacted to you.” Andrew shook his head. “It just feels wrong.”

“Maybe she wasn’t married long.” That would explain her lack of experience, but there was no need to guess about her status. No ring, poorly garbed, and after all, Andrew hadn’t touched her. She hadn’t responded to Will like an innocent. Though, naturally, he didn’t make a habit of kissing young unmarried women. Had he ever kissed one? It didn’t matter; he was not about to change his ways now. It was clear to him that Mrs. Villaret was as interested in him as he was in her.

“What language did you say the clerk spoke?”

“Stubble it. I know enough German to understand
frau
.” Will gave himself a shake. Andrew could not be right.

A sleepy porter opened the door to the hotel.

“Have it your way. When it comes to females, you always do.” Andrew made his way toward their apartment. “But you’d better be careful, or
you’ll
find yourself caught in the parson’s mousetrap.”

No chance of that happening. Will had been stalked by the best of the matchmaking mamas and their devious daughters.

“By the way,” Andrew continued, “Howden has a meeting with Shipley at the Green Parrot tomorrow at one o’clock. You should be there.”

What Will really wanted to do was find out where his widow lived. “What are you going to be doing?”

“I shall dig about in Shipley’s business interests.” Andrew yawned. “Any information I can find is bound to be helpful.”

“Very well.” It was only luncheon after all. Will would have the rest of the day to look for Mrs. Villaret. He’d need to be discreet. His groin tightened in anticipation. It must be all the weeks at sea. He couldn’t remember ever wanting a woman as badly as he wanted her. He’d better bed her soon.

O
nce inside the Whitecliffs’ garden, Eugénie and Cicely made their way to her rooms.

Eugénie’s lips still felt swollen from Mr. Munford’s kisses. She didn’t understand why she was so drawn to the man, and it terrified her to think what might happen if she spent any time with him. He was a devil, and he didn’t even bother to hide it.

“This was such an exciting night.” Cicely bubbled with exhilaration as she took out two glasses and poured chilled white wine into them, handing one to Eugénie. “To think I actually met the man I was looking for.” Cicely untied her cloak. “What took you and Mr. Munford so long to catch up?”

Eugénie touched her lips for the second time that evening, and wondered if her friend would be able to see a difference. “He kissed me.”

Her cloak half off, Cicely froze. “
He did what?”

“He kissed me,” Eugénie repeated, almost unable to believe it herself. Actually, he’d done much more than that. Her whole body had been alive with sensations she’d never had before. She sank onto a small wooden chair in front of the breakfast table, taking a sip of wine to steady her nerves. “I don’t know how it happened.”

Cicely finished removing her cloak. “Well, it can’t happen again. If word gets out you’ll be ruined. Even if he is well born, which we are not at all sure of, he certainly did not behave as a gentleman should.” She paused, rubbing her forehead. “I should never have left you alone with him.”

“No one has ever tried to kiss me before.” Unable to remain sitting, Eugénie rose and placed her wrap on the sofa. “I mean, some men have given me looks, but they would never have acted upon them.”

“Eugénie.” Cicely took Eugénie’s hands. “Your father was always there to scare them away.”

She drew her brows together much as her mother did when she was concerned, and suddenly she didn’t want to hear what her friend would say.

“Look at me.” Cicely waited until Eugénie did as she asked. “You cannot be with him alone again. He doesn’t know you and how innocent you are. My goodness, he doesn’t even know your name.”

“
Oui
,
oui
, I know.” Eugénie gave herself an inner shake. She’d never even imagined a kiss could be so wonderful. Still, her friend was correct. She could not allow him to do what he had done tonight. “The good thing is that I’ll probably not meet him again.”

“You will.” Cicely closed her eyes for a moment, and gave an imperceptible shake of her head. “Don’t forget I asked Papa to check into his friend. At least I now know his name is Mr. Grayson. That will make it easier for Papa. I shall ask Mama to plan a dinner and small soirée suitable for your mother to attend. I’ve no doubt Mr. Munford will accompany his friend, and even if he doesn’t, he will want to at least present himself to your mother.”

This was the worst news possible! Drat Cicely’s single-mindedness. Eugénie would have to find some way out of this. Mr. Munford could never discover who she was. “I thought I’d remain in my rooms if he calls. As to the party”—she rubbed her temples—“I’ll tell Maman I have a sick headache and remain home.”

They stepped into Cicely’s bedchamber and she started unlacing Eugenie’s gown. “That won’t work. You never have a headache.”

“At this rate I shall have an enormous one.”

“I’ll just have to remain next to you.” Cicely started on Eugénie’s stays. “Don’t worry. I won’t give him an opportunity to take any more liberties.”

“Do you not think that once he knows who I am, he will leave me alone?”

“I think it may be worse. He could see you as a way to increase his status in life. In any event, we cannot take the chance. Some men like to ruin women.”

Eugénie glanced over her shoulder. “How would you know anything like that?”

Cicely smiled smugly. “Papa told me. Which is the reason I am always careful when I flirt.”

“I should have slapped him or stabbed him with my dagger, anything to prevent him from touching me.” Of course, to do that Eugénie would have had to have been in her right mind, which she obviously had not been. How could she have allowed him to caress her as he did? Her face burned with shame.

“You cannot blame yourself. It would have been difficult to do anything to stop him,” Cicely said as she finished unlacing Eugénie’s stays and Eugénie started on Cicely’s gown. “Remember that bunch of drunken oafs was passing by. To have drawn their notice would have been worse.”

That was a valid point. In point of fact, she had been trapped, and Munford took advantage of the situation. How had he got the idea that Eugénie would enjoy being kissed? Had she given him a signal she didn’t know about? Oh, why hadn’t she paid more attention when Mrs. Whitecliff had explained all of those kinds of things? “I still do not understand how it happened. Or why.”

“You are very beautiful. What man wouldn’t want to kiss you?” Cicely paused. “Was it wonderful?”

“That’s the worse part.” A small sigh escaped Eugénie as she remembered the feel of his firm lips on hers. “Once he started, I didn’t
want
him to stop.”

“Oh dear, if only he were the right gentleman for you. Come to think of it, if he
was
a gentleman he’d marry you after taking such advantage.” Cicely sighed as well. “I do so hope Mr. Grayson wants to kiss me.” She paused, wrinkling her forehead. “Though not until he’s declared himself.”

Eugénie finished unlacing her friend’s stays. “You barely know him. Are you sure you wish to marry him?”

“Absolutely. He is just what I’ve been looking for.” Cicely smiled saucily and donned her nightgown. “He said I had an insightful mind. Papa always says I should marry someone who likes my mind. That way he won’t become bored with me.”

“Why then do you spend so much time with your appearance?”

“Mama said I need to attract the right type of gentleman.” She gave Eugénie a considering look. “Perhaps that was the problem this evening. You’ve allowed yourself to become so brown, you could be taken for someone of mixed blood. Our cook has a cream you can use to lighten your skin again, and
that gown
”—she kicked the offending garment—“shall be burned tomorrow.”

Eugénie donned her nightgown and climbed into the bed. It was a bitter truth to swallow, but her mother had been right. She needed to look and act like a lady, or she’d come to a bad end. Particularly when she liked being kissed so much. If only Mr. Munford were a gentleman, and one who wanted to wed. Why couldn’t she have met the man she wished to marry, as her friend had? Someone who would help her look after her family and keep them safe from predators such as Mr. Howden.

She lay awake for a long time after Cicely’s soft breathing took on a regular pattern, reliving Mr. Munford’s caresses. The way he’d cupped her breast, the warm slide of his tongue against hers. The way his hand held her derrière. A warm throbbing began between her legs. What did it all mean? Eugénie turned her pillow and punched it.

Maudit!
How was she supposed to stay away from him when all she wanted was to kiss him again?

Nathan Wivenly lay in the large bed, staring up at the high, beamed ceiling of his elegant prison. He didn’t even know how long he’d been there. For weeks after his capture, he’d been delirious from the bash his head had taken from one of the ship’s booms. He still didn’t know where he was being held, who had him, or why. Only that they were French and the leader was upset at Nathan’s injuries and subsequent condition.

If his captors applied to Watford, Nathan supposed he’d be worth something in ransom. Yet whoever held him might deduce that his nephew would have the British navy after the pirates when it came time to collect.

Best thing he could do for everyone was to find a way to escape. He studied the room for the hundredth time since he’d woken The only open windows large enough to crawl out lined the top of the outside wall, a good twelve feet up. All the shutters of the lower ones were fastened shut from the outside. He’d briefly considered trying to kick them out, but that would bring the whole house down on him, even if he had the strength to break the thick wooden planks. Though he’d been regaining his health, he was still not back to normal.

The door had a regular lock, but he was no longer in possession of his dagger, or any other implement, to pick the damned thing open. All he could do was to continue to act as if he had not recovered. If his captors believed Nathan was still weaker than he was, he might be able to overpower one of the servants.

The door opened and a small, pretty, light-skinned mulattress, who’d never come before, entered the chamber followed by the largest Negro male he’d ever seen. Now was the time to start getting answers. “Who is your
patron
?”

“You are Nathan Wivenly from St. Thomas?” the woman asked in perfect English.

He narrowed his eyes. “That’s right.”

She smiled up at the man. “He will help.”

What the hell was she talking about? “In case it’s missed your notice,” he said in his driest tone, “I’m being held prisoner, thus any aid I might be disposed to give you is rendered moot.”

A grin split the man’s face. “We will help you too.”

What the devil was going on? Though if it meant getting out of here and back to his family, Nathan would agree to almost anything.

Will rose early the next morning. Lascivious dreams of Mrs. Villaret had interrupted his sleep. Her large brandy-colored eyes alight with passion, his fingers spearing her long rich mahogany hair, spreading it out around her. He’d awoken to find his pillow beneath him, just as he’d dreamt she was.
Damn.
He punched the pillow, then pushed it away. The sooner he finished this family business the better.

He splashed his face with water and brushed his teeth before pulling on his shirt and pantaloons, then entered the parlor. Covered dishes sat on the sideboard with small cards labeling the offerings. How Tidwell knew when Will would awaken never ceased to surprise him.

Once he’d devoured a plate of eggs and ham, he decided to try the sautéed fruit, which resembled a banana they’d had on one of the other islands. He took a bite expecting it to be sweet, yet it was not. Still, the flavor was good. He read the card. Plantain. He’d add it to his list of new foods.

Will poured a second cup of tea and sent for his groom. As he stared out over the harbor, his thoughts returned to Mrs. Villaret.

Several moments later, Griff entered. “Ye sent for me, my lord?”

The groom looked as if he’d been up for hours already and sitting on hot cockles for something to do. “Yes, I need you to find a Mr. Edgar Shipley, merchant, and discover what you can about his personal habits.”

“He the gent that’s causin’ problems for the Wivenlys here?”

“The very same.” Will took a sip of tea. “Do you have sufficient funds?”

Griff patted his pocket. “Got plenty left from yesterday. Good thing this place ain’t too big.”

“See if you can discover if he keeps regular habits and where he lives.” Tidwell had already ascertained the man was not staying at the Queen.

“You leave it to me.” The groom tapped the side of his nose. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Andrew entered the parlor as Griff left. “The merchant?”

“Yes.” Will nodded. “My groom saw a man who might be Shipley enter and leave Wivenly Imports yesterday. Griff couldn’t follow him at the time, but made inquiries about where a man might stay on a semipermanent basis. If anyone can locate the blackguard, he will.”

When a fresh pot of tea arrived, Andrew poured a cup. “I shall do a bit of investigating myself, but in the business quarters.”

Will swallowed his tea and frowned. “How are you going to do that? I thought you didn’t know anyone here.”

“Ah”—Andrew gave a sly smile—“I had the forethought to bring letters of introduction from my grandfather.”

“You’re a good friend, Andrew.” Will’s gaze was pulled to the water in the harbor as he took a bite of the buttered Dum bread stuffed with cheese.

“I am, and you can be sure I shall not allow you to forget it.” Andrew glanced at the table and sideboard. “Any chance of getting toast?”

“Only if you want it cold or soggy. I’ve been told the kitchen is too far away. Try this.” Will pushed the plate of bread toward his friend. “It’s not bad.”

He went back to wondering when he’d be able to search for Mrs. Villaret.

Andrew inspected the dishes set on the sideboard. “I’m sure it’s fine, but I’m going to eat something more than bread.”

“I’ll join you.” Suddenly hungry again, Will rose. “Starving myself won’t help anyone.”

Andrew pulled out his quizzing glass. “I don’t know where you put it. The way you eat you should be as fat as Prinny.”

“Healthy appetites run in the family.” Will slapped his flat stomach. “Even my sisters have them.”

“Harrumph.”

He helped himself to another piece of Dum bread. Fortunately luncheon wasn’t too many hours away.

After breakfast, he visited the tailor, then walked around town hoping to see Mrs. Villaret again. Shortly after noon, in a new coat that fitted him, and armed with a description of Mr. Shipley, Will climbed the stairs of the tavern across the street from the warehouses and docks.

The Green Parrot was a whimsical name for the well-appointed restaurant and bar popular with the wealthy merchants. Blindingly white cloths graced each table. The roof’s slight overhang helped to ensure the midday sun didn’t broach the interior, yet even in the dim light, the flatware and crystal sparkled. Will was sure that in England it would be called the King’s Arms or something like that.

He raised his quizzing glass as if to study the dining room, and his gaze hit the merchant, Mr. Edgar Shipley. He looked exactly as Will’s groom said he would—fat, though a kinder person would have referred to Shipley as portly. The man was also balding, and his complexion was florid. Will stopped just long enough to see Shipley glance irritably at his pocket watch. Obviously a man who valued punctuality. Hopefully he placed an equal significance on regular habits.

“Sir, will you be dining with us to-day?”