Page 34 of The Pleasures of Passion
The footman quickly put down the step, opened the carriage door, and hurried up the town house steps to knock at her father’s door.
Niall disembarked, then turned to help Brilliana climb out. But he didn’t release her at once. Instead, he stood there with his hands gripping her waist as he stared down at her, looking for all the world like a real fiancé.
“We’ll continue this discussion later,” he said in a low, husky voice.
Her throat tightened. She really wished he wouldn’t look at her like that. It did wicked things to her insides. “I shan’t change my mind.”
He chuckled. “You don’t know how persuasive I can be.”
Oh, but she did. That was the trouble. “Perhaps you’ve forgotten how stubbornIcan be.”
His amusement faded, replaced by a searing intensity she found far more unnerving. “Trust me, I remember only too well. But you are no longer a sweet young innocent and I am no longer a besotted young fool. I suspect we would do much better together these days.”
She slipped from his arms and rushed up the steps ahead of him. She refused to let him win in this, even when she was painfully conscious of his steps echoing behind her, of his gaze on her back—and probably her backside, too. It felt as if she’d stepped back in time to when she was seventeen.
It only made matters worse that nothing about the Payne town house had changed. The same pot of nasturtiums sat at the far end of the porch, the front door held the same brass wolf-head knocker, and the fanlight iron still needed blackening. Memories flooded her, more bad than good. She had hoped never to return here.
So much for that.
Jenkins appeared in the doorway, the same genial old butler he’d always been, albeit a bit balder. And clearly curious about her appearance here with a gentleman of Niall’s consequence.
“As I live and breathe, it’s you!” he cried. “Your father will be so surprised to see you, Miss Bri . . . I mean,Mrs.Trevor.”
She pasted a smile to her lips. “Good afternoon, Jenkins. I take it that Papa is home?”
“Oh yes.” He cast a furtive look at Niall.
“If you would, please let him know that Lord Margrave and I have come to call.”
“At once, madam.” He glanced behind her. “And the . . . er . . . child? Isn’t he with you?”
“I’m afraid not. I preferred to visit Papa without him first.”
Jenkins looked disappointed, but then, he’d been with the family for years. No doubt he had a natural curiosity about her son.
She felt a quick stab of guilt at having not brought Silas along, but she still wasn’t sure shewantedhim to know his deceitful, betraying gambler of a grandfather. Who might just be a counterfeiter to boot.
As they waited to be announced, Niall glanced around at the worn rug, the walls in need of paint, and the fraying curtains. “For a man who might be involved in something criminal,” he said in an undertone, “your father doesn’t exactly live large.”
“No. He’s always too busy staying ahead of his creditors for that.” With a jolt of pain, she stared at the space where her favorite cabinet used to stand. “And given that my entire collection of Wedgwood seems to have disappeared, I’ll wager he’s not doing very well with that.” Her throat tightened. “I’m sure he got a pretty penny for it.”
“I’m sorry, sweeting,” Niall said in a low voice. “I know how much you admired Wedgwood’s designs.”
The fact that he remembered made her heart turn over. A pox on him for that. “Well, if my father is part of this conspiracy, I warrant it’s only because he owes money everywhere.”
The tap of a cane in the hall a few moments later was their only warning that someone approached. She was surprised to find it was Papa.
And when he came into the light, she saw that the cane wasn’t the only thing new about him. His hair had gone fully gray. There were new wrinkles around his eyes and mouth and a droop to his chin. The belligerent, heedless fellow she remembered didn’t seem quite so belligerent anymore. And when he clutched the cane with both hands, an odd alarm stabbed her chest.
“What happened to your leg?” she burst out.
“Not that you care, girl, but the gout plagues me from time to time.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” she said, realizing that it was the truth.
In spite of everything he’d done and all he’d cost her, he was still her father, and seeing him looking sooldfor a man only in his fifties . . . It made her want to cry.
“If you are, I’m surprised. You denied me even a glance at my grandson.” His expression turned resentful. “So am I to assume that your presence here means you have finally acknowledged your duty to your family?”
