Powder of Sin (5 page)

When they went to call on her, he’d supposed they’d
visited her for the usual reasons.

During their calls upon most independent females,
Reed’s job was to remain as invisible as possible while making
certain the lady truly wanted Clermont. He was to allow Clermont
and his choice to conduct their “flirtation” and eventually,
discreetly disappear. That was the usual procedure.

By God, this lady had more in her mind than cocks
and innuendos.

He’d forgotten how much he enjoyed the company of
females. She’d talked of New York and England, and she’d made him
want to laugh when she’d tried to drive them out of her parlor.

Clermont’s conversation and diary reduced each woman
to a series of curves and hot, wet holes of mouths, vaginas, and
arseholes. During their visit with Miss Ambermere, he’d realized
how pleasant it was to remember they were humans. Miss Ambermere
was a person and, even better, never the sort who’d come calling
for Clermont in his hotel, looking for mindless pleasure.

Oh, dear God.

Miss Ambermere stood in the doorway, squeezing her
hands together, obviously nervous.

His heart sank even as he rose to his feet,
determined to be polite. He’d simply ignore the nearly overwhelming
urge to grab her, shake her, and shout in her face.

She smiled at him. He managed to speak. His lips
felt stiff. “I am sorry, but I cannot allow you to visit our
rooms.”

Her delicate eyebrows rose. She seemed on the verge
of an angry retort when he blurted, “Miss Ambermere. You are a—” He
stopped himself in time. He was an employee hired to keep Clermont
from despoiling innocents and harming women who cared about their
good names. But if a rich idiot of a girl wanted to operate in the
same hedonistic manner, it was none of his business. Even if the
thought of Clermont and this woman together filled him with
nausea.

“What is the matter?” she asked as he led her out
into the corridor.

“Nothing at all.” He tried not to sneer. “If you are
fully cognizant of your…your interest in Mr. Clermont, I will send
word to him. I ask that you go to your own house rather than—”

“Mr. Reed. I don’t understand you. And why are you
looking at me as if I’ve broken out in some sort of horrible rash?
I’m aware you are prone to moodiness, but I don’t think I deserve
to be glared at.”

“I beg your pardon.” He bowed, determined to remain
as professional as he could. He had nothing else to cling to at the
moment. “You’re absolutely correct. Should I have Mr. Clermont
paged?”

“No, you’ll do.” She reached up to adjust her hat.
The way she lifted her arms—a deliberately seductive motion, so
much more effective than the more obvious motions he’d seen other
women employ.

“I-I am not available.” He found the words
surprisingly difficult to speak. She might be a reckless fool, but
she was still amusing, had a mind. And her body—oh Lord. He’d seen
so many naked female bodies in the last year, but still longed to
see this one unclothed. His cock stirred at the thought. All right,
if she had such hungers, why couldn’t he be the one to assuage
them?

“You’re not available?” She frowned,
disappointed.

He opened his mouth to say he’d changed his mind,
that he’d go with her to her house and her bedroom—any place she
named—when she continued. “But my lawyer said you had also
expressed an interest in the, ah, substance I’ve inherited.”

Lord in heaven.

The
substance
. He’d forgotten she was Lord
Williamsford’s heir.

Reed had been dealing with the dithering lawyer, Mr.
Dorsey, and had entirely forgotten she owned the object Clermont
was after. This was the power of a man’s sexual drive—it destroyed
his brain.

He attempted a smile as he gabbled, “Oh. Yes, of
course. You’re correct. I can help you.”

He grasped her elbow and moved her aside before two
men walking side by side bowled her over.

Fresh air would help him regain his senses, he
prayed. “It seems unusually crowded today in the public areas.” He
still sounded too tense, so he inhaled deeply, caught a whiff of
her already familiar perfume, subtle and clean, with the sharpness
of citrus and only a hint of sweetness, rather like her manner. He
tried another smile. “Shall we go for a walk?”

“That’s a wonderful idea.”

He glanced around the crowded foyer. “Do you have a
maid?”

“I have one, yes, and she waits in the
carriage.”

“Why?”

“Despite your peculiar manner, I’m not afraid of an
attack.” She let him steer her around a group of ladies gathered
near a palm tree. “I didn’t want her to listen to the conversation.
And to be frank, we are less fearful for unmarried ladies on this
side of the ocean.”

“Which is why you chose to live here?”

“One of the reasons. But I imagine even in England
I’d at last be able to walk with a man without worrying about my
reputation.”

“What do you mean ‘at last’?”

“I’m closer to thirty than twenty, Mr. Reed. At a
certain age, a spinster must be allowed some freedoms a young girl
wouldn’t dare. But never mind that. Now your manner has changed
again. You are so very changeable, like the wind off the East
River. What made you go from starchy to human, I wonder?” They
paused to wait for several families to pass.

She looked at him, her brow furrowed. “I can’t
imagine why you’d grow upset just because I came to call. Unless
you thought I wanted something, but what could…?” She gasped as
comprehension filled her eyes and made her turn red. In a choked
voice, she said something about yet another Cousin Johnny.

He tried to look innocently confused, but she must
have seen the truth.

“Oh. No. Oh indeed.” She covered her mouth. “You
thought I wished to see Mr. Clermont…” Her voice stumbled. “And
then you thought I would take you for, well, in h-his stead.” She
pressed the tips of her gloved fingers to her lips.

“Miss Ambermere. Please. Allow me to apologize for
making such a dreadful error. Please excuse me for such—You’re
laughing?”

She nodded.

“But I insulted you. I hope you will forgive me for
supposing you to be that sort of woman.”

She wiped her eyes carefully. “And
now
your
attitude reminds me of my papa.” The way she said it made it clear
she didn’t think much of her father. “But if you are going to be
all stiff and formal, maybe I should talk with Mr. Clermont. I’d
rather take a leering male over one who judges.”

“I swear to do neither.” He pressed his palm over
his heart. “Please, let us start again.”

He held out his hand. “How are you today, Miss
Ambermere? Well, I hope? Isn’t the weather fine on this lovely
spring day?”

She smiled and held out her hand too.

Good, he thought as he shook it. Both of them were
wearing gloves. Not like that one time. He’d been taken unawares by
her touch. After months of naked limbs and moaning, it was amazing
that a small hand taking a firm grasp of his had roused and riled
him.

She smoothed her skirts and adjusted the fluffy
confection of her hat into place again. “The weather is lovely, and
what a good idea to go for a walk. We can stroll down Fifth Avenue
and watch the ladies shop. And you can be honest with me, because I
am in sore need of advice, sir.”

“The, ah, chemical that Clermont wants,” he
guessed.

“Yes. Why are you making an offer to buy it?” Her
pretty mouth twisted. “You do know that Mr. Clermont has made a
separate bid? Why would you work against him?”

He didn’t usually reveal the truth. Clermont was a
bounder, but he’d promised not to spread the word far and wide.
“It’s difficult to explain,” he said, and didn’t.

“Do you have private reasons for wanting the powder
for yourself? What would you do with it?” She straightened her
shoulders. “I do apologize for my impertinence, but it is an
important question.”

He liked her straightforward manner, but the
question struck him as silly. This was just a box of powder. He
laughed. “Absolutely nothing. I think I’m to dispose of the
substance. Pour it into the river, I suppose. I am acting as an
agent for someone else.” Several someone elses, actually. The
solicitor who’d hired him had said that Clermont’s mother, aunt,
and uncle would pay his fees. The very wealthy family was willing
to pay all sorts of outrageous costs.

“I don’t understand. You don’t believe the vial of
powder is real?”

“Oh, I’m sure it would influence a man like
Clermont. He’d inhale some or drink it and become as inflamed as a,
ah, satyr. But it would be in his mind.”

She suddenly looked weary. “You would be wrong, Mr.
Reed. There is real power in the vial. It exercises a strong and
terrible influence. I’ve witnessed it.”

He remained silent, hoping she’d tell him what had
happened to her. No matter that a lady—and she was most definitely
a lady—would never describe such animal appetites. For once he
wanted to hear someone describe the effects of lust. Unable to bear
the suspense, he asked, “Did something happen to you?”

She shook her head. “Not to me. But you must believe
me when I say the chemical in the vial has a real effect. I have no
intention of selling it to you or your friend.”

He gave an abridged bow. “As long as I keep it out
of the hands of other people, I’ll have done my job.”

“Your job. What a curious thing to say.”

“Yes,” he agreed. He had the strongest urge to tell
her the truth, just in case Clermont had managed to arouse any of
her interest.
Don’t let him touch you
, he wanted to warn
her.
Let me.

She looked anxious. “If you don’t believe in the
substance, then you’ll be of no help to me. I need to know how to
get rid of it safely.”

He shrugged. “Burn it? Bury it?”

“I think it needs to be destroyed, but burning it
might be disastrous.”

She twisted her hands together and chewed her lip.
“Perhaps I should ask some professionals. Chemists.”

“Yes, take it to one of them. There must be one on
every other street corner.”

“No, I mean specialists, not just a pharmacy, as
they call it here. It’s terribly important that I find someone who
wouldn’t attempt to use it for his own gain.”

He knew she’d grow angry or skittish if he again
hinted that she was under the influence of nonsensical fears. Easy
enough to help. “My duties here don’t require all my time. I would
be glad to help you.”

She smiled and her shoulders visibly relaxed, but
the smile faded almost at once. “I don’t want to give you the
powder. It’s not that I don’t trust you, but…”

He waited for her to finish the sentence, but she
only pressed her lips tight. He reassured her. “I understand and
will only seek out information. I’ve worked as an investigator in
England for private parties. Certainly I can undertake a simple
search like this—locating a reputable scientist, correct?”

“You? An investigator? What are you doing here?”

“I made the mistake of taking on what I thought
would be an easy assignment,” he said drily, “and ended up being
dragged across the ocean.”

“I suppose it’s very secret, this assignment?” She
made a show of looking left and right to make sure no one in the
indifferent crowds around them listened. “And you don’t dare allow
me a single hint?”

He actually enjoyed her mild mockery of him, but he
wasn’t going to answer her questions. “Yes, and no, I don’t.”

She burst into laughter. “You do enjoy putting me in
my place, Mr. Reed.”

“Not at all. I might accuse you of the same thing.”
They stopped at a corner and waited a long few minutes for the busy
traffic to pass before attempting to cross the street. “Don’t you
recall what you said when we called upon you the other day?”

“I did so much talking that day. Someone had to fill
the silence.”

“Toward the end of our visit you asked me which I
disliked, parlors or ladies. I suspect you were only trying to
needle me and perhaps convince us to leave.”

She blushed. “I beg your pardon. I had forgotten
that. But I know I have a reputation as a plain-speaking
shrew.”

“No doubt you carefully maintain it to keep strange
gentlemen and fortune seekers from your door.”

“No doubt.”

An impatient driver of a dray cart snapped a whip,
causing his horse to take the corner too sharply.

She deftly retreated, bumping against Reed hard
enough that he had to catch her around the waist so she might not
fall. His hip was against her side, and for less than a second, he
allowed himself the enjoyment of holding her, discerning the
slender form under his hand before she straightened.

“You’re used to this city,” he said.

“I think I’ve lived in New York too long. I would
have made a dash across the street, but I don’t want to show a
visitor to our country what sort of language drivers use when
annoyed.”

“Do you believe they’re worse than London
drivers?”

She smiled up at him. Her face glowed with
amusement, and his chest grew tight as their eyes met and held. “Oh
yes,” she said. “They are far more impatient.”

One of the ubiquitous two-wheeled carts slid over
the cobblestones and onto the curb, so they had to back up again,
but when the plodding old cab horse was far enough away, they could
cross without running.

“Dancing with traffic,” she said and slowed to take
his proffered arm. He wanted to pull her close, but was content
with her arm crooked through his.

Even this shared light touch was enough to distract
him and make him fall silent, though she still chattered on easily
enough. “I don’t think we’ll have to face another street. There are
plenty of attractions on this single block to afford us a half
hour’s entertainment. The windows of the stores are enough.”