Page 6 of The Secret of My Seduction
“Where are you going?” her brother asked when he came in.
“The assembly rooms,” she lied.
Danny’s face blanked. “Again? That’s twice this week.”
Bathsheba lifted one shoulder. “I’ve been in the house all day and wanted to get out.”
“Oh.” Looking nonplussed, he went to the side table, where the brandy was. Danny had lost his left arm at the elbow, and even though he managed quite well now, Bathsheba still watched him intently as he opened the bottle and poured a glass of liquor.
“Are you well?” she asked on impulse. Normally he didn’t bat an eye when she went out.
“Of course,” he shot back defensively, raising his glass.
Bathsheba waved one hand. She never offered to help him physically. When he’d come home from war, rail thin and angry at everyone for his lost limb, she had told him he was only disabled if he let himself be. “Not that. You look unhappily surprised.”
He dropped into a chair. “I didn’t know you were going out tonight.”
“You never minded before,” she pointed out.
Danny shrugged and stared into his drink. “I knew why you were going out before. I suppose… Well, I suppose I didn’t realize how much you liked it.” He glanced up at her. “But you do, don’t you?”
She hesitated. Clearly she could not tell him why she was so eager to go tonight. “What else am I to do?” He would know what she meant: no children to teach reading and arithmetic to, no husband to keep her company. Her few friends had both of those, which meant they were occupied most of the time. Most nights now, Bathsheba retired to her room to write or read by the fire with her brother, if he was at home.
Daniel’s gaze shifted away at her reply. “I’m sorry, Bathsheba. It’s not fair to expect you to enjoy being marooned at home with a one-armed brother.”
“It’s only painful when he grows maudlin,” she said tartly. “Most of the time, I don’t feel the suffering too acutely. We’ve got to look after each other, I suppose, since we’ve no one else.”
“This life is too limited, isn’t it?” He faced her again, wary but almost eager. “There’s not much society.”
“No.” She glanced at him sideways. She’d known Danny since he was born, and she could tell from the set of his jaw that he had something on his mind. “It sounds as though you wish to change that.” What did he intend, she wondered with a trace of foreboding. He’d been so revived in spirits since the production ofFifty Ways to Sin. Did he want to restart the newspaper business? Liam could surely tell him that was a fool’s choice; Bathsheba strongly suspected herTales of Lady Xwere subsidizing theIntelligencer.
“Well…” He paused. “Perhaps. But not without your approval, of course.”
She frowned. What on earth was he talking about? It wasn’t like Danny to be so coy. But at that moment, a knock sounded on the door, sending Bathsheba’s heart into her throat and scattering her thoughts. She jolted to her feet. “That’ll be my hackney,” she said. “Good night, Danny, don’t wait up!” She pressed a quick kiss on his cheek and hurried out, leaving him staring after her in amazement.
A coachman stood on the step. Bathsheba threw on her cloak and let out her breath, relieved that Liam hadn’t come himself. Not that she had expected him, but it would be like him to confound her expectations, and she would have had a thorny time explaining it to her brother, who had followed her as far as the sitting room doorway.
“Which assembly rooms?” Danny asked, suddenly suspicious.
“The usual ones,” she said as she closed the door on him. “Good night!”
“Miss Crawford?” asked the coachman.
“Yes.” She tugged up the hood of her cloak, even though it was warm out. “Where are we going?”
“I’m not to say.” He opened the door of the waiting carriage for her, and jumped onto the box when she was settled. Bathsheba watched out the window and tried to keep track of where they went, but the carriage left London, driving past the familiar squares and thoroughfares into more rural roads before turning into a winding lane lined with oaks and finally stopping in front of a smart cottage of gray stone.
Liam was standing in the cottage doorway when the driver lowered the step and helped her down. Trying to conceal her sudden uncertainty, Bathsheba thanked the driver and crossed the neat patch of gravel. “Is this your home?”
He grinned. “Does it matter? It’s private.” He held out his hand. “Come in.”
She avoided looking at him as she took his arm, instead examining the house with far more interest than was necessary. It was a very pleasant house, with oak floors worn shiny with time and walls of buttery yellow. Fresh flowers stood in a tall vase at the back of the small hall. “It’s lovely,” she said as she removed her cloak.
Liam looked around as if just noticing it. “It is, isn’t it?” He hung up her cloak and put his hands on his hips. “What are you wearing, Bathsheba?”
She flushed, feeling his gaze wander down her figure. “This is my best dress.”
His dark brow arched. “And you thought it was suited to a seduction?”
