The Education of Mrs. Brimley (42 page)

Sarcasm! He swallowed the grin that threatened to spread across his face. “The watch was initially . . . my father’s.” He feigned sadness hoping to appear sincere. “As I mentioned, it has great sentimental value.” He accepted an offered tea cup from the aunt and sipped. “My mother decided to gift it to her paramour even though it was not hers to give.”

“Have you asked your mother to retrieve the watch for you?” The slight tilt of her lips suggested she thought he was a bit addlepated, which was his intention. However, he was sorely tempted to drop the pretense just so he’d stand taller in her eyes. Still, he needed to finish the game.

“She wouldn’t hear of it. Mrs. Farthington suggested I come to you.” The name had registered with her aunt, but the only hint of recognition in the niece was the faintest separation in her enticing lips. She was competent at hiding her emotions. Thank the powers that be that the likes of Miss Havershaw would never be admitted to the gentlemen’s clubs for the purposes of a card game. He’d lose his shirt. Of course, if he lost it to Miss Havershaw, that might not be the worst experience. “Mrs. Farthington mentioned that you had retrieved an item for her for which she is very grateful.”

“Yes, well, I would have preferred that Mrs. Farthington had not shared that information.” She narrowed her gaze, studying him with an air of skepticism. He concentrated on the tea cup, hoping to avoid her scrutiny.

“Are you familiar with Lord Pembroke, Mr. Langtree?”

What the devil? His disguise must be failing! He delicately touched his napkin to his upper lip, just in case the steam from the tea had weakened the spirit gum. He used the moment to regain his poise before resuming the facade.

“No. I’m afraid not.” He balled the napkin in his palm. “Of course, I expect to show my gratitude with a financial boon for the return of my watch.”

She studied him a moment longer, her distrust still lingering, then glanced at the tall parlor clock. “How much of a boon, Mr. Langtree?”

“Shall we say, twenty pounds?” Her eyes widened and he hastened to add before she questioned his generosity. “It is a very dear and rare watch.”

Judging from the state of her brougham and the parlor furnishings, it would be a difficult offer to decline. Besides, he hadn’t the social boon that she had extracted from Mrs. Farthington.

“Perhaps you should tell us more about this watch, Mr. Langtree,” the aunt interceded with a piqued interest. “Where do you suspect it to be?”

And so he did. Their tea finished and the bait set, he stood to take his leave. “When do you suppose I’ll see my dear watch again?”

He noticed the aunt’s eyes shift to the tall clock in the corner, while Miss Havershaw kept him firmly in her gaze.

“I imagine before the week is out,” the aunt said.

He nodded. “Good day, ladies.”

 
LUCINDA ATTEMPTED TO DISCRETELY PEER THROUGH the draperies at Mr. Langtree once he had left the town house. There was something about the man. Something that just didn’t register true. His clothes and mannerisms seemed at odds to the sharp glittering acuity in his eyes. There was something familiar about him. The fine hairs at the base of her neck prickled.

“This has certainly turned into a profitable week.” Aunt Eugenia could hardly contain her excitement. “First, Mrs. Farthington and then Mr. Langtree, we shall have enough funds for the household expenses and a little extra to put aside for the winter.”

Winter, Lucinda grimaced, Aunt Eugenia’s euphemism for living on the street. Fighting starvation while avoiding detection, without a shelter to call home and with hungry mouths to feed . . . Yes, she understood her aunt’s joy at avoiding that dire turn of circumstances. But still, there was something about that man . . .

She recalled his expression when she had first entered the room. A delicious warmth had spread beneath her corset at his appreciative stare. Even now, at the memory, a strange fluttering pushed at her stays. Then he spoke, his voice soft and deep, like a childhood lullaby meant to seduce the listener into doing one’s bidding . . .

“Lucinda? Are you listening to me, dear?”

Her aunt’s voice chased Mr. Langtree’s pleasant attributes from her thoughts. “I’m sorry, you were saying?”

“I was noting that you only have about two more nights of full moonlight left. When do you propose to retrieve Mr. Langtree’s watch?”

She bit her lip. On one hand, the unsettling contradictions about Mr. Langtree’s person could cause her to dismiss the notion of retrieving his watch. However, should she do that, she would miss the opportunity of seeing and hearing him again. Then, of course, there was the question of financial need . . .

“Tonight,” Lucinda replied, with a nod to her aunt. “Best to keep the winter at bay.”

Before beginning her writing career in earnest,
Donna MacMeans
kept books of a different nature. A certified public accountant, she only recently abandoned the exciting world of debits and credits to return to her passion: writing romances. Her debut novel,
The Education of Mrs. Brimley
, won the 2006 Golden Heart for Best Long Historical. Originally from Towson, Maryland, she currently resides in central Ohio with her husband, two adult children, and loyal canine protector, Oreo.

Donna loves to hear from her readers. You may write to her at P.O. Box 1981, Westerville, Ohio 43086.

Visit her website at
www.DonnaMacMeans.com
.