Page 51 of His Wicked Charm

Con jumped to his feet when she walked in, his eyes lighting in a way that made her pulse speed up. As they rode to Carmoor, Lilah rehearsed what she would say to him. It was difficult to ask anyone for a favor, but with Con, she was doubly reluctant. She wasn’t sure why, since he had a generous, easygoing nature, but the words stuck in her throat.

Finally, when they reached Carmoor and stabled their horses, she pulled together her courage and said, “I’m sorry.”

He glanced at her in surprise. “For what?”

“Snapping at you last night. I shouldn’t take my irritation with my aunt out on you.”

He shrugged. “I am immune to insults. Remember, I have three sisters whom I’ve aggravated even more frequently than I do you. I’ve weathered many a feminine bad temper.”

“I hope—that is, I want to ask you a favor.” Again she paused.

“Lilah, what is it? Surely you know I would help you in any way I can.”

“Yes, I know.” She did, really; the sudden realization filled her with warmth. “I would ask you not to tell anyone about...all this.” She waved a hand vaguely in the direction of her home.

“All what?”

“My family. My aunt. What happened nine years ago.”

“Did you think I was going to gossip about you?” Con’s voice turned sharp. “Do you know me so little you think I would do anything to hurt you?”

“No.” She took his arm, pulling him to a halt. “I know you would not set out to hurt me. But it is the sort of thing that intrigues you, and I’m afraid you might tell your family because it makes interesting conversation. They might repeat it. Or you might mention it to someone else, at your club, perhaps. A jest. A comment. I fear you don’t understand how important it is that no one know.”

“I don’t understand why it worries you so much, but—”

“I’ve been so careful,” she told him urgently. “I’ve worked hard to be above reproach. Aunt Helena has taken great care to make sure that the taint of scandal doesn’t cling to me. She wants so much for me to make a good marriage.” Con’s lips twitched in irritation, and she hurried on, “I know that isn’t something that you would care about. But if that scandal came out again, it would hurt not only my reputation but hers, as well. I could not bear it if Aunt Helena suffered because of me, if people whispered behind her back or snubbed her.”

“Lilah!” Con stared. “That was almost ten years ago, and the scandal was your aunt’s. Society has forgotten about it. In any case, it wasn’t your fault or Mrs. Summersley’s. Why would it hurt your reputation? How would it keep you from making a ‘good’ marriage?”

“You don’t know society very well if you think that. Ask your sister Kyria. She’ll tell you I’m right. If the subject of my aunt and her peculiarity was raised, the old scandal would be taken out and dusted off. It would be new fodder for gossip. They’d recall that the Holcutts had always been peculiar. ‘Remember what her aunt did. Lilah may be circumspect now, but what if she changes? What if she turns out to be the same?’ Worse, the story would grow with each recounting. Faulty memories would be embellished. Soon people would whisper about bad blood and how I might taint a family line.”

“I know how important an appropriate marriage is to you,” Con said tightly. “But any man who wouldn’t marry you because of your aunt’s old scandal wouldn’t be worth marrying anyway.” His face softened, and he laid his hand against her cheek. “You needn’t worry. I will say nothing about you or your aunt to anyone. I wouldn’t have anyway. This isn’t just an interesting story. It concerns you.”

“Con...” The tightness in Lilah’s chest began to dissolve. Inexplicably, tears welled in her eyes.

Con swept his thumb across her cheek, catching a tear. He bent to kiss her tenderly. When he raised his head, gazing into her eyes for a long moment, the world seemed still and timeless around them, as if they stood poised on the brink.

Con stepped back, and the moment was gone. “We should... The house.” He gestured toward the redbrick mansion before them. His movements were a trifle jerky, his voice raw.

“Yes. Of course.” Lilah pulled herself together. “The key.”

They walked through the untended gardens, growing in a riot of color, intermingled with weeds, vines and limbs inching into walkways and obscuring statuary. Clearly the house had been closed for some years. The rear door was locked, but Con pulled out his lock picks and had it open in a minute.

Their steps echoed on the slate floor as they walked down the hall, peering into rooms. If the gardens had not shown the house was un-lived-in, the film of dust over everything would have. Carpets had been rolled up and stowed against the walls, and most of the furniture was shrouded with dustcovers. Tables and shelves stood bare of ornamentation. There was an empty, dead feeling to the house that sent a shiver down Lilah’s spine.

“I—this feels wrong,” Lilah said, her voice hushed. “We’re intruding.”

“I know.” Con nodded. “But if Sabrina and Alex weren’t gone, they’d be here, searching with us. I want to find out what’s going on and put a stop to the Dearborns before Sabrina and Alex return.”

Lilah nodded. “You’re right. They shouldn’t have to deal with the Dearborns again.”

The first room they explored was Mr. Blair’s office. They roamed around the large room, taking off the desk’s dustcover to go through the desk drawers and searching through the bookcases. Lilah went down the rows of books, uncertain what she was looking for. Now and then, she glanced back at Con, who was inspecting the mantel and fireplace, testing various embellishments for hidden levers. It was hard to keep her mind on what she was doing; it kept drifting back to that tender kiss Con had given her, the depths of his eyes, the touch of his hand upon her cheek.

She turned and looked at him again. He had left the fireplace and was at the desk, rummaging through empty drawers. A lock of hair had fallen across his forehead; he wore his hair too long and shaggy. But it was hard to pull her eyes away from the way it curled against his collar. As if he felt her gaze, he glanced up. Lilah flushed, embarrassed at being caught watching him—or perhaps the heat was from something else entirely, for there was a look in his eyes, a certain set of his mouth that made her knees want to buckle.

Lilah whirled away and blindly searched the shelves. Behind her she heard Con close a drawer sharply and walk away. It took a few minutes for her heart to regain its steady rhythm. She moved to another bookcase. Across the room, Con said, “Nothing.”

He spent a few minutes going down the line of shelves, tilting back two or three books at a time. Lilah stopped what she was doing to watch him in puzzlement. “What are you doing?”