It Happened One Autumn (Wallflowers #2)(108)

Both young women glanced at her in surprise. Annabelle’s blue eyes turned round with curiosity. “You asked him about the secret ingredient?”

“For God’s sake, what is it?” Daisy demanded. “Tell! Tell!”

“You might be a bit disappointed in the answer,” Lillian said, turning sheepish. “According to Mr. Nettle, the secret ingredient is …nothing.”

Daisy looked outraged. “There is no secret ingredient? It isn’t a real love potion? I’ve been marinating myself in it for no reason?”

“Here, I’ll read his explanation. ‘Your success in capturing the heart of Lord Westcliff was purely the result of your own magic, and the essential addition to the fragrance was, in fact, yourself.’ ” Laying the letter in her lap, Lillian grinned at her sister’s annoyed expression. “Poor Daisy. I’m sorry that it wasn’t real magic.”

“Drat,” Daisy grumbled. “I should have known.”

“The odd thing is,” Lillian continued thoughtfully, “Westcliff did know. The night I told him about the perfume, he said he knew conclusively what the secret ingredient was. And this morning, before I showed him the letter from Mr. Nettle, he told me his answer—which turned out to be correct.” A slow smile crossed her face. “The arrogant know-all,” she muttered lovingly.

“Wait until I tell Evie,” Daisy said. “She will be as disappointed as I am.”

Annabelle glanced at her with a pucker marring her pretty forehead. “Has she replied to your letter yet, Daisy?”

“No. Evie’s family has her under lock and key again. I doubt they’ll let her send or receive letters. And what worries me is that before they left Stony Cross Park, her aunt Florence was giving out very forceful hints that a betrothal to cousin Eustace is in the works.”

The other two groaned. “Over my dead body,” Lillian said grimly. “You realize we’ll have to resort to creative measures if we’re to pry Evie out of her family’s clutches and find a good match for her.”

“We will,” came Daisy’s confident reply. “Believe me, dear, if we can find a husband for you, we can do anything.”

“That does it,” Lillian said, and sprang from the settee to advance menacingly toward her with an upraised cushion.

Giggling, Daisy scrambled behind the nearest piece of furniture and cried, “Remember, you’re a countess! Where’s your dignity?”

“I’ve misplaced it,” Lillian informed her, and chased after her with glee.

Meanwhile…

“Lord St. Vincent, there is a visitor at the door. I informed her that you were not at home, but she is most insistent that she be allowed to see you.”

The library was dark, and cold, except for a small spill of feeble light that came from the hearth. The fire would soon burn out …yet Sebastian could not seem to rouse himself sufficiently to add another log, no matter that there was a small stack of wood within each reach. A blazing conflagration fit to burn the house down would still not have been enough to warm him. He was empty and numb, a body without a soul, and he prided himself on it. It took rare talent for a man to sink to his current level of depravity.

“At this hour?” Sebastian murmured without interest, staring not at his butler, but at the cut-crystal brandy snifter in his hand. He rolled the stem idly in his long fingers. There was no question as to what the unidentified woman wanted. But though he was otherwise without prospects for the evening, Sebastian realized that for once he was not in the mood for a tumble.

“Send her away,” he said coolly. “Tell her my bed is already occupied.”

“Yes, milord.” The butler left, and Sebastian settled into his chair once more, stretching his long legs before him.

He finished the brandy in his snifter with an efficient swallow as he contemplated his most immediate problem…money, or the lack thereof. His creditors were becoming aggressive in their demands, and a wide array of debts could not be ignored much longer. Now that his efforts to gain a badly needed fortune from Lillian Bowman had failed, he would need to get the money from someone else. He knew some wealthy women who might be induced to loan him some capital in return for the personal favors he could deliver so well. Or another option was to—

“Milord?”

Sebastian looked up with a scowl. “For God’s sake, what is it?”

“The woman will not leave, milord. She is intent on seeing you.”

An exasperated sigh left him. “If she’s that bloody desperate, send her in. Though she had best be warned that a quick f**k and an even quicker good-bye are all I’m game for tonight.”

A young, nervous voice came from behind the butler, betraying the fact that the persistent visitor had followed him inside. “That is not quite what I had in mind.” She slipped around the servant and came into the room, her form wrapped in a heavy hooded cloak.

Obeying the flicker of Sebastian’s eyes, the butler vanished, leaving them alone.

Sebastian rested his head on the back of his chair, regarding the mysterious figure with an emotionless gaze. The idle thought crossed his brain that she could be holding a pistol beneath the cloak. Perhaps she was one of the many women who had threatened to kill him in the past…one who had finally screwed up the courage to make good on her promise. He bloody well didn’t give a damn. She could shoot him with his blessing, as long as she did it properly and didn’t botch the job. Remaining relaxed in his seat, he murmured, “Take down your hood.”