Enticing Miss Eugenie Villaret (8 page)

Andrew smiled. “Above all things. You are everything I’ve been searching for.”

“I am?” She searched his face. Small lines crinkled at the corners of his eyes and his smile broadened.

“Yes. I knew from the moment we began going over the accounts together that you were intelligent and had a quick, practical mind.” Andrew kissed first one hand then the other. “That you are a joy to look at commended you to me as well.”

Cicely lowered her lashes. “It is good that you were impressed first by my mind. Beauty fades.”

Andrew placed a finger under her chin, raising it. “To me, you will always be lovely.”

Bubbles of happiness like those in champagne flowed through her. Cicely felt so light, she could be floating through the air. This was what it meant when people said their happiness was complete. “That’s good, because I love you as well.”

Andrew’s lips met hers, sending sparks shooting through her, like the fireworks on Christmas.

Was that what Eugénie had experienced with Mr. Munford? Good Lord, she must speak with Andrew about his friend. Maybe he’d have some influence with the man, but first . . . She slid her arms around Andrew’s neck and returned his kiss.
This
had definitely been worth waiting for.

“Open your lips.” Though she didn’t understand what he intended to do, she did as he asked. His tongue slipped into her mouth. The sensation was strange but pleasurable, as if they were becoming one person. When his tongue stroked hers, she returned his caresses.
Oh my, yes.
This was very good. Frissons of pleasure made her whole body tingle.

He lifted his head. “I’ve wanted to do that since the night we met.”

She glanced at him, shy for the first time. “I thought you did. If I’d known how nice it would be, I would have as well.”

His soft chuckle filled the air. “May
I
say, I’m very pleased you didn’t know?”

Cicely grinned. “Yes, you may. I’m glad you are the first man to kiss me.”

He took her lips again, this time with more urgency. She opened to him, reveling in the heat. His hand moved slowly down her back, causing her breasts to press against his hard, muscular chest. She could stay here, with him, forever.

He groaned, then lifted his head. “We should tell your parents. They’ll be wondering what your answer was.”

“That is why you were so long in arriving in the drawing room!”

“Yes.” A sheepish grin appeared on his face. “I am only surprised your father agreed to entertain my suit so soon.”

“I told him how I felt.” Cicely touched her lips to his. “As for wondering, I think they already know.” She paused for a moment, considering how to approach the problem of his friend. “Andrew, before we go in, I need to discuss something with you.”

A wrinkle appeared on his forehead. “What is it?”

“Eugénie.”

His brows shot up.
“Eugénie?”

What could have caused that reaction? “The friend who was at the warehouse with me.”

“Oh, Good Lord. Are you going to tell me she is Mrs. Wivenly’s daughter?”

Cicely nodded. “Yes, but how did you know?”

He rubbed a hand over his face. “I knew this was going to catch him out.”

“What is it?” How had Andrew known who Eugénie was before now?

“I think we should sit.” He took out his handkerchief and cleared the flower petals from the bench, then waited until she sat before taking his place next to her. “Now then. Tell me about the lady.”

“Eugénie Villaret de Joyeuse is, as you know, Mrs. Wivenly’s daughter from her first marriage. She and her step-father were very close. Eugénie called him her
beau-papa
, not so much because it’s the word for step-father in French, but because he was so good to her. She never believed the manager, Mr. Howden, when he said the company was losing money, but her mother forbade her from interfering.” Cicely glanced at Andrew but could tell nothing from his expression. It was as if a mask had settled over his face. “So Eugénie and I decided to look at the books. We hadn’t been there long when you and Mr. Munford came in.”

A tick formed in Andrew’s jaw, and a deep frown appeared on his countenance. “Go on.”

Cicely prayed he wasn’t angry with her or Eugénie. “When we got to my bedchamber, she looked so strange that I asked her what had happened. She told me Mr. Munford had kissed her, and I think more besides. She was very affected. You see, she’d never been kissed before and kept touching her lips. I promised I’d help keep her away from him.” Cicely paused. “I know he’s your friend, but I don’t think he’s a very nice man.”

“He has many good qualities, but”—Andrew’s lips formed a thin line—“there are times when he fails to consider the consequences.” He rubbed his temples as if he was getting a headache. “His name is not Munford. It is William, Viscount Wivenly.”

“Wivenly!”
This changed everything, and Cicely didn’t know if it was for the better or not. “I don’t understand. Why did he lie about who he was?”

“He wanted to learn what was going on here before he announced his presence. Now that he has, he’s dismissed Howden and will find a new manager who can be trusted. Other problems have cropped up as well.”

“What will Lord Wivenly do about Eugénie?”

Andrew raised her hands to his lips. “Don’t worry.” Andrew’s voice was a low rumble. “You can leave your friend’s problems to me. It is past time Viscount Wivenly was taught a lesson.”

Cicely breathed a sigh of relief. “I knew I could count on you.”

“You may always depend upon me.” Andrew stood, drawing her with him, wrapping his arms around her. “For the present, we have a wedding to plan. I do not wish to wait long before making you Mrs. Grayson.”

Mrs. Grayson. That sounded perfect. Cicely smiled. This was all going so well.

H
ervé, Vicomte de Villaret de Joyeuse, pushed back from the dining table of the house he’d borrowed in the Queen’s Quarter of Charlotte Amalie. He turned his attention to the servant cleaning the table. “When Mr. Shipley arrives, send him to the library.”

“Oui, Monsieur le Vicomte
.
”

Several moments later, the servant left. Hervé hated this place. The heat was far worse than the Languedoc region of France, where his family’s estate was located. He would not have been required to come here at all if his former sister-in-law, Sidonie Wivenly, had not refused to consider the excellent marriage he proposed for Eugénie. Yet she had, and the only option he could think of was to convince Mr. Nathan Wivenly to his side.

Hervé had only wanted to speak with the man before Wivenly reached St. Thomas. Then the pirate he’d hired made a mess of things, killing the crew and abducting Nathan Wivenly. Hervé was certain that the man would have come around to the marriage—after all, he was a man of the world—but he was still on death’s door when Hervé had to leave Martinique and travel to St. Thomas. Now time was running short, and Wivenly would probably not be disposed to help Hervé. The only choice was to keep the man where he was until Eugénie was wed.

Imbéciles et incompétents.
Now Hervé was forced to use Shipley. Who’d already attempted to forcibly abduct Eugénie and failed.

What should have been a simple matter of making a good marriage for his niece and the house of Villaret de Joyeuse had turned into a farce. Sidonie had no business refusing him. Eugénie owed something to her father’s family. That was the purpose of a woman, to wed in furtherance of her family’s well-being. Sidonie owed him as well. After all, Hervé had allowed her to keep the child. He sighed. No good deed goes unpunished. He should have insisted the child be brought to France years ago after her father died. Still, perhaps it was better Eugénie had remained in the West Indies. With the situation being so unsettled for years in Southern France, anything could have happened to her. When the door opened, he glanced up.

“Monsieur.” Shipley held his hat in his hands and bowed. “I’ve been told a few more days is all it will take for the widow to agree to anything.”

Hervé slammed his fist down on the table, making the standish and Shipley jump. “
Non
. I will not wait any longer. You shall go to-day.”

“But monsieur, the final report of the company’s demise has not yet been delivered to Mrs. Wivenly.”

Why was he surrounded by stupid people? “You will do as I have told you. Make the offer to buy the company with an additional one thousand pounds to be settled on Mademoiselle Villaret. Raise the amount if you have to. I want that girl.”

Shipley,
le grossier
, backed out of the room bowing. “I’ll do it this afternoon, monsieur.”

It was going on four o’clock when Will dismissed the clerk for the day. He’d eaten luncheon at his desk while he juggled the various books and contracts. At least he had begun to understand the shipping business a little. He’d have to get someone in to manage it before he left, but it was important to be conversant with the workings of the company. His aunt and uncle’s son, Benet, was still at Eton, and much too young to take over. There was also the problem of what to do with the rest of the family. He didn’t like the idea of leaving without a man to watch over them. Will poured another glass of rum.

Footsteps pounded on the stairs, and a moment later Andrew appeared at the door, grinning like a loon. “Given up already, or did you sack the clerk as well?”

Leaning back in the large wooden chair, Will replied, “His name is Smithwick.” He lifted the bottle. “Rum?”

“I believe I will, but you shouldn’t have any more.” Andrew sank down into one of the two chairs on the other side of the large desk. “Now that your name is out, you need to introduce yourself to your aunt. It wouldn’t do for her to discover you are in St. Thomas at the party tomorrow evening.”

“My aunt is in mourning. I doubt she’ll be present, but you’re right, some busybody is bound to tell her between now and then.”

Andrew checked his watch for the second time in as many minutes. “Her eldest daughter will attend.”

“Without her mother to chaperone?” Will had forgotten he had the step-daughter to deal with as well. And with everything else going on, he’d had no opportunity to search for his mysterious lady.

“Yes,” Andrew continued, “it appears the Whitecliffs are good friends with the Wivenlys.” He glared at Will. “Their daughters were raised together.”

What the devil was wrong with that? “Very well. I’ll go now.” “Good,” his friend said curtly.

Will grabbed his hat and cane. “How did your luncheon go?”

“Quite well. I’ll accompany you to Main Street.”

As soon as they’d attained the street, Andrew walked off in the opposite direction. That was strange. Will hoped there wasn’t something amiss at his aunt’s house. Unlikely. If there was, surely Andrew would have said something. Good thing Will had made a point of discovering the location of Wivenly House earlier.

When he arrived, Will knocked on the front door. It wasn’t large by English standards, but from what he’d seen in the West Indies, it was substantial.

An older black man dressed as a butler opened the door. “Yes, sir. How may I help you?”

Will handed the man his card. At least he knew his uncle didn’t keep slaves. He paid all his servants and employees fair wages, which was the reason, up until Howden, there had been no problems.

“Lord Wivenly.” The butler’s face was as impassive as any he’d seen in England. In fact, the man reminded him of his father’s butler, albeit much darker. “Mrs. Wivenly will be very glad you have arrived.”

Will inclined his head slightly.

The man took his hat, gloves, and cane. “If you will come with me, my lord?”

He followed the butler down a short corridor to a large room whose oversized windows and doors gave views onto the harbor.

“Lord Wivenly has come, ma’am.”

A slender, dark-haired woman garbed in black rose to greet him. “I knew the earl would send help. My husband always spoke so warmly of his nephew.”

Mrs. Wivenly’s English was perfect; only the slightest hint of her French accent remained. She reminded Will of someone, but for the life of him, he couldn’t think whom. Will took the offered hand and raised it to his lips. “My father remembered him fondly.”

“Please have a seat. My butler, Bates, will bring tea.”

“Thank you.” Leave it to the English to insist on hot tea in the afternoon, even in these climes. “I’ve missed a good cup of tea.”

Her lips made an attempt to curve up and failed. “I’m afraid we are in quite a fix, and I do not understand how it came about. Yet Mr. Howden assures me we are indeed desperate.” She glanced down at her trembling hands and quickly clasped them together before looking up again. “I know nothing of the business.” Her eyes pleaded with him. “I haven’t known what to do.”

Mrs. Wivenly collapsed back onto the sofa, as if she didn’t have the strength to remain standing. He definitely couldn’t leave the family here, essentially alone without a man to look after them. Will took the chair opposite her. His aunt’s face was drawn into tired lines. Damn Howden. If this were England, Will would have the scheming piece of scum put on the next ship to the West Indies and hope he died along the way. As it was, he’d just have to kill him. Will leaned forward, taking one frail hand in his. “Please don’t worry. You did the best you could do by writing my father. You may leave all your problems to me.”

The strain in her countenance leached away, and her light brown eyes seemed less worried. She tucked a lock of dark brown hair behind her ear. Who the devil did she remind him—?

“Maman, Bates said Lord Wivenly had arrived.”

That voice
. Will shot to his feet and stared at the doorway, which provided a perfect frame for Mrs. . . .
God no
,
Miss
Villaret, as she moved from the sunlight into the darker interior of the room. He barely kept his jaw from dropping. She was even more striking than the last time he’d seen her. Though she still wore a gray gown, at least this one was fashionably cut. She should wear a color better suited to her, but of course, she was in mourning as well.

“Yes, my dear.” His aunt finally smiled. “We have been saved. Lord Wivenly shall take care of everything. Eugénie, this is William, Viscount Wivenly. My lord, my daughter, Miss Eugénie Villaret de Joyeuse.”

Keeping his eyes on her, Will bowed.
How in the name of God could he have been so mistaken?
The fat was in the fire now. He’d have to propose and quickly, before his aunt and subsequently his father and mother heard what he’d done.

His gaze caught
Miss
Villaret’s and her eyes widened, reminding him strongly of a deer about to bolt.

She backed steadily away from him, back from whence she’d come. “Maman, I forgot”—she glanced around—“. . . something. I’ll return immediately.”

One more step and she was out of the room, closing the door firmly behind her.

Mrs. Wivenly drew her brows together. “I fear I must apologize for Eugénie. I do not know what’s got into her.”

He did.

Damn.
Andrew had been right. Will had managed to spring a better trap for himself than all the Miss Stavelys in England could have done. There was no way in hell he was going to explain to his aunt he’d been trying to ravish her daughter. More important was stopping Eugénie from getting away before he could secure her promise to wed him. Surely that would settle any thoughts she might have of telling her mother what he’d done. After all, he thought bitterly, marriage to a future earl would overcome much. He’d be leg-shackled, but at least he desired the woman. He’d enjoy every minute of bedding her.

Will wracked his brain for a reason to go after her. “Mrs. Wivenly.”

She smiled at him as if he was her savior. If only she knew the whole she wouldn’t be so sanguine.

“Please call me Aunt Sidonie. We are family, after all.”

That was better, he hoped. “Aunt Sidonie. There was one more thing I wanted to say.”

She nodded encouragingly. “Yes?”

“I met your daughter at the Whitecliffs the other evening.” Better to allow her to think that than tell the truth, and pray Eugénie spent enough time over there that his aunt wouldn’t become suspicious. “I want to ask for her hand in marriage.”

Aunt Sidonie shook her head as if trying to clear it. “My lord?”

“Will, if you please, Aunt. As you said, we are related.”

“Very well, then, Will. This is very sudden.”

If only she knew. “Yes.” If he was going to be struck down by the gods, it would be now. “It was love at first sight for me.”

She clasped her hands as if her whole world had righted itself. “If Eugénie wishes to marry you as well, who am I to object? This is exactly the sort of match I have always wanted for my daughter.”

Now all he had to do was convince Eugénie, but that would not be difficult. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll ask her now.” He bowed, started to walk out of the parlor, and stopped. “Do you happen to know where she is?”

“I just saw her go toward the wash-house. Down the stairs to the right. The servants will direct you.”

“Thank you.”

He strode toward the side of the room. Jerking open the door, he was surprised to find steps going in both directions on the outside of the house. He’d never seen anything like this. He hurried down to a lower landing, passing what smelled like the kitchen. There the stairway connected to a terrace on one side and continued lower. A maid directed him to a terraced garden below, where he found even more steps, then a path leading to four small buildings set close together. When he’d gone almost to the end of the stairs, he caught Eugénie’s gaze as she glanced up. He locked eyes with her for a moment before she turned and ran.

Drat the woman!
He didn’t care if he had to chase her to Main Street and everyone in St. Thomas knew he was after her. There was no way he’d let her get away now. Whether she wanted to be or not, she was his.

Eugénie caught a glimpse of Lord Wivenly moving rapidly down the stairs to the work yard. His stern face showed no emotion, but anger emanated from every pore, spurred every step. She couldn’t speak to him now, not when he was so furious. What would she say, and how would she react? Not to mention he’d lied to her about who he was, and Maman could never know what he’d done. She must have time to gather her thoughts before confronting him and making sure he did not betray her.

She glanced at the wall. If she was fast, she might make the gate before he reached her. Picking up her skirts, Eugénie darted toward safety. Once away from him, she could decide what should be done. Perhaps he’d leave for England or another island, or even America.

As she reached out her hand to lift the latch, fingers as strong as steel wrapped around her arm and the next thing she knew, he was dragging her toward the empty wash building.

His voice was a low growl. “We need to talk.”

She dug the heels of her half-boots into the dirt, raised her chin, and said in her haughtiest manner, “I have nothing to say to you,
my lord
.”

“Well, I have plenty to say to you,
Miss
Villaret de Joyeuse.”

He picked her up and carried her into the laundry, then set her down and grasped her arm again.
The beast.
She was sure to have bruises.

“Such as,” he continued, “why didn’t you tell me who you were that night at the warehouse?”

Just like an arrogant man to try to place the blame on her. “
Incroyable
. I am not the one who lied about my name or who I was.”

Lord Wivenly clenched his teeth so hard, his jaw was sure to crack. “I told you I was from the earl. You should have trusted me.”

“Trust you?” She would scratch his eyes out. “Why should I, when you chased me around and kissed me like I was a
putain
?”