How the Scoundrel Seduces 1 London February 1829 WHEN THE HACKNEY halted, Lady Zoe Keane drew her veil aside and peered out the murky window to survey the building standing opposite the Theatre Royal, Covent Garden. This couldn''t be Manton''s Investigations. It was too plain and ordinary for the famous Duke''s Men, for pity''s sake! No horses standing at the ready to dash off to danger? No imposing sign with gilt lettering? "Are you sure these are their offices?" she asked Ralph, her footman, as he helped her out. "Aye, milady. It''s the address you gave me: 29 Bow Street." When the brittle cold needled her cheeks, she adjusted her veil over her face. She mustn''t be recognized entering an office full of men, and certainly not this office. "It doesn''t look right, somehow.
" "Or safe." He glanced warily at the rough neighborhood. "If your father knew I''d brought you to such a low part of town he''d kick me out the door, he would." "No, indeed. I would never allow that." As Mama used to say, a lady got what she wanted by speaking with authority . even if her knees were knocking beneath her wool gown. "Besides, how will he find out? You accompanied me on my walk in St.
James Park, that''s all. He''ll never learn any different." He mustn''t, because he would almost certainly guess why she''d sought an investigator. Then, like the former army major he was, he would institute draconian measures to keep her close. "I shan''t be here long," she told Ralph. "We''ll easily arrive home in time for dinner, and no one will be the wiser." "If you say so, milady." "I do appreciate this, you know.
I''d never wish for you to get into trouble." He sighed. "I know, milady." She meant it, too. She liked Ralph, who''d served as her personal footman ever since Mama''s death last winter. From the beginning, he''d felt sorry for Zoe, "the poor motherless lass." And if sometimes she shamelessly used that to her advantage, it was only because she had no choice. Time was running out.
She''d already had to wait months for Papa to bring her and Aunt Flo to London so she could maneuver this secret meeting. They mounted the steps, and Ralph knocked on the door. Then they waited. And waited. She adjusted her cloak, shifted her reticule to her other hand, stamped snow off her boots. At last the door opened to reveal a gaunt fellow, wearing an antiquated suit of cobalt-blue silk and a puce waistcoat, who appeared to be headed out. "Mr. Shaw!" she cried, both startled and delighted to see him again so soon.
He peered at her veiled face. "Do I know you, madam?" "It''s ''your ladyship,'' if you please," Ralph corrected him. As Mr. Shaw bristled, Zoe jumped in. "We haven''t been introduced, sir, but I saw you in Much Ado about Nothing last night and thought you were marvelous. I''ve never witnessed an actor play Dogberry so feelingly." His demeanor softened. "And who might you be?" "I''m Lady Zoe Keane, and I''m scheduled to meet with the Duke''s Men at three P.
M." It wasn''t too much of a lie. A few months ago she''d caught the well-known investigators orchestrating a fake theft in order to capture a kidnapper. In exchange for her silence, they''d agreed to do her a favor at some future date. That date was now. She only hoped they remembered. Mr. Dominick Manton, the owner, and Mr.
Victor Cale, one of his men, both seemed responsible fellows who would honor their promises. Mr. Tristan Bonnaud, however . She tensed. That bullying scoundrel had caught her by surprise, and she hated that. Why, he hadn''t even wanted to agree to the bargain! No telling what he would do if things were left to him. "Have you just been here to see the investigators?" she asked Mr. Shaw, who continued to block their way in.
He grimaced. "Alas, no. Since ''all the world is a stage,'' I am employed here as well as in the theater. I serve as butler and sometime clerk to Mr. Manton." Oh, dear. She only hoped he wasn''t privy to his employer''s meeting schedule. "In that case, perhaps you should announce me.
" When he stiffened, she added hastily, "I would be most honored. What a pity that I didn''t expect you to be here, for then I could have brought my playbill for you to autograph." Given how he arched his eyebrows, that was probably laying it on a bit thick. "What a pity indeed," he said, but ushered them inside. Removing her cloak and veiled hat, she surveyed the foyer. This was more like what she''d expected: simple but elegant mahogany furniture, a beautiful if inexpensive Spanish rug, and nice damask draperies of a pale yellow. The décor could use a bit of dash--perhaps some ancient daggers on the walls for effect--but then, she always liked more dash than other people. Besides, the newspapers told enough daring tales about the Duke''s Men to make up for any lack of dash in their offices.
Supposedly they could find anyone anywhere. She dearly hoped that was true. "I don''t believe the gentlemen are present at the moment." Mr. Shaw kept eyeing the front door with a peculiar expression of longing. "They must have forgotten your appointment. Perhaps you should return later." "Oh, but that''s impossible!" she burst out.
When his suspicious gaze swung to hers, she cringed. Why must she always speak the first thing that came into her head? No matter how she tried to behave as Mama had taught her, sometimes her mouth just said what it pleased, and to hell with the consequences. She winced. Not hell. Ladies didn''t so much as think the word hell, not even ladies whose papas used the word regularly while teaching their daughters how to manage the estates they would one day inherit. Sucking in a breath, she added sweetly, "I can''t imagine that the famous Duke''s Men would forget an appointment. Perhaps they came in the back." After the risks she''d taken to meet with them, the thought of being thwarted because they were all out investigating made her want to scream.
He sighed. "Wait here. I''ll see if anyone''s in." He darted up the stairs like a spider up a web. As soon as he was out of earshot, Ralph grumbled, "Still don''t see why you want to consult with investigators. Your father would gladly find out whatever you wish to know." Oh, no, he wouldn''t. She''d already determined that.
"Don''t worry. It''s nothing that will get you into any trouble." It was only the entirety of her future, but she couldn''t tell Ralph that. None of the servants could ever know of this. The door opened behind her. "Well, well, what have we here?" She froze. She would recognize that voice anywhere. Oh, botheration, why did it have to be him? Steadying herself for battle, she faced Mr.
Bonnaud . only to be struck speechless. This wasn''t the Mr. Bonnaud she''d encountered in the woods near Kinlaw Castle, when she''d extracted her promise from the Duke''s Men. That fellow had been barrel-chested, thick-waisted, and rough-looking, with a floppy hat and a beard that hid most of his face. Oh, right, supposedly he''d been wearing a disguise. It had been most effective. Because the man before her now wasn''t remotely burly or bearded or badly dressed.
He was lean and handsome and garbed almost fashionably, if one could call a sober riding coat of dark gray wool, a plain black waistcoat, tight buff trousers, and scuffed boots fashionable. Not that any woman would care about his clothes, when his broad shoulders and his muscular thighs filled them out so well. Heaven save her. Then he removed his top hat of gray beaver to reveal a profusion of thick black curls worthy of a Greek god, and she stifled a sigh. The combination of his aristocratic nose and finely crafted jaw with that hair was stunning. Absolutely stunning. No wonder his name was so often linked to beautiful actresses and dancers. With those fierce blue eyes and that seducer''s shapely mouth, he probably spent half his time in bed with willing females.
The images that rose in her mind made her curse her wild imagination. Ladies weren''t supposed to think about that either. He looked closely at her, and recognition leapt in those splendid eyes. "Lady Zoe," he said, bowing. "Good afternoon, Mr. Bonnaud." He crooked up one eyebrow. "Finally decided to call in your favor, did you?" With a furtive glance at Ralph, who avidly watched the exchange, she said, "I wish to consult with you and your companions, yes.
" Just then Mr. Shaw returned. "Ah, there you are, Mr. Bonnaud. Is Mr. Manton with you?" "He''s tying up some loose ends, but he said he''d be along shortly." "I understand. As usual, ''Time shall unfold what plighted cunning hides.
'' " Mr. Shaw nodded to her. "This lady claims to have an appointment with the . er . Duke''s Men." The Shakespeare quote threw Zoe off guard. Had Mr. Shaw guessed that she was hiding something? She watched Mr.
Bonnaud warily, preparing herself for anything. So when he had the audacity to wink at her, it surprised her--and sent a little thrill along her spine that was too annoying for words. "She does indeed," he said, eyes agleam, "a rather long-standing one. Don''t worry, Shaw--I can see you''re impatient to be off to rehearsal. I''ll take care of her ladyship.".