The Trouble With Seduction. Victoria Hanlen

A smile colored the richly resonant voice.

      She turned to gaze up into one large handsome brown eye. The other was a puffy, purplish slit. Her breath caught at the sight. “Thank you,” she exhaled.

      He held out her small magnifying glass. The wind carried the scent of his tantalizing citrus and sandalwood cologne. Instead of giving her back her utility ring, he pulled the gadgets from their protective leather sleeve, inspecting them one by one. “Now isn’t this clever. A little knife, a saw and screwdriver, a tiny pair of scissors, pliers and a nail file. My goodness, you are certainly prepared for any occasion.”

      Finally handing back her utility ring, he removed his top hat. His dark hair stood in disarray, ruffling in the warm breeze. On one side of his forehead and down his cheek, large, colorful bruises encompassed several lacerations.

      She tried to smile but couldn’t take her eyes off his injuries.

      The moment stretched on a little too long. Finally, he said, “I’m sorry, have we been introduced?”

      Of course he wouldn’t remember her, or at least he would pretend not to. He’d barely said two words to her the first time they’d met. “Yes,” she sniffed. “If you might recall, we recently danced together at the Grancliffes’ party.”

      “Oh.” His brows furrowed as he gazed about her face. Then he wound his finger in a circle at his ear. “The bump on my head quite… I do apologize. Please tell me your name again.”

      Just as she’d expected. Handsome young men never saw her. She pinched her lips together. “I am Lady Strathford.”

      His one eye seemed to intensify on her face. “Are you any relation to the late Lord Strathford?”

      “Yes, his widow.”

      “My condolences,” he said, gently. “A true loss. Lord Strathford was a very talented inventor.” He dipped his head and said in a voice – if her ears were not deceiving her – bordering on sultry, “Please forgive me. My memory is a bit hazy. Is there anything else I should know about… us?”

      “Uuuss?” She swallowed reflexively. His careful study of her face, at first, made her uneasy and then started to annoy. What was he getting at? Was he insulting her with a rude joke? From the way Gracie had maneuvered them in beside him and her subsequent reticule mishap, perhaps the arrogant man presumed she was chasing him. She’d long since learned handsome, perfect men wanted nothing to do with imperfect females. But the unexpected thrill of him referring to them as ‘us’ made her pulse flutter. Irritatingly.

      “We met briefly a little over a week ago, nothing more.” She gazed into his one good eye expecting a bland show of bored insouciance. Instead, she found a bright gleam of humor and a flash of – were her eyes deceiving her? – signs of intelligence? It couldn’t be. She rallied her indignation.

      “As you might recall,” Sarah huffed, “we danced one waltz.”

      “Did we?” The uninjured side of his lips curled into a smile.

      “You did not say a single word as we danced, and barely looked at me.” She sniffed.

      “That doesn’t sound at all like me. Are you sure?” She caught a momentary gleam of white teeth.

      “Indeed. The doorway had you spellbound. I wondered that you couldn’t wait to leave.” The ordeal had made her feel like a chore he’d been obligated to complete. Except for his remarkable good looks and strong dancing skills, she’d decided he’d nothing more to recommend him.

      “And did I immediately begin calling on you and bringing you bouquets?” His voice still contained a sultry resonance, but odd little catches in it sounded like he struggled against laughter.

      Now he was definitely insulting her. She drew herself up straighter. “I must say, after that one dance, I find this discussion highly irregular.” So the man could put two words together.

      Eliza stood at her side gazing out at the dinosaurs while her hand fluttered frantically about.

      Sarah clamped her lips closed, twisted the strap of her reticule around her hand and peered about the crowds, readying to stomp off. She did not have to stand here and be ridiculed. Turning back to collect Gracie and Eliza, she happened to gaze up into that one dark, glimmering eye. Her pulse unexpectedly broke into a skip. Unintended words escaped her mouth. “Truly, do you not remember our dancing?”

      He tapped a finger to his forehead. “Please accept my apologies, my lady. Some things are still a bit fuzzy. The doctor said a little more time might be needed.”

      “Oh.” She swallowed a lump of mortification. What was the matter with her? He’d been beaten senseless. By the looks of him, they’d put great effort into pounding him about the head and face. Had they damaged his memory as well?

      She’d assumed his attendance at the Crystal Palace meant he’d recovered enough to be out and about town. “Please forgive me, Mr Ravenhill. I thought you were teasing me. I thought after I accidentally…” She looked down at her shoe and scraped it over the pathway’s gravel.

      “You accidentally…?”

      “Well I…” she coughed. “When we danced, I accidentally stepped on your boot… once or twice… and I assumed you’d decided to take it elsewhere.” Dancing with handsome Mr Ravenhill had made her terribly nervous and her weak leg sluggish. “You didn’t say a word when I stepped on you.” She decided not to mention his raised, disapproving brow.

      “Then you immediately took me into a dizzying spin.” It was all she could do to control her faulty leg and not land on her posterior. “When the music ended you quickly escorted me back to my friends. I didn’t get the chance to apologize because you disappeared.”

      Mr Ravenhill looked down at his shoes and then back up at her. “So that’s how I got the sore foot. I thought my attackers had tramped on it.”

      “Oh, I couldn’t have possibly done it much damage,” she said in disbelief.

      The uninjured side of his face curved into a smile and… did he wink his good eye?

      “I hope I apologized for setting my boot where you needed to step? My big feet have a habit of getting in the way.”

      Her cheeks heated.

      “So by your lack of response, I take it I was a cad and let you assume total responsibility.”

      Sarah gazed up at him and suddenly realized the man was a horrible tease. This made her even more bewildered. Lately, men whom she’d never considered insisted on making her acquaintance. No doubt word had spread that her two marriages had left her with a sizable income. Could that be what put the sudden gleam in Mr Ravenhill’s eye?

      He dipped his head. “Perhaps if I call on you in a day or two you will allow me to atone for my bad behavior?”

      ***

      Damen watched the three women move on to another of the large creatures and couldn’t help admiring the widow’s lovely form – a tempting shape his rather outsized hands, and, well, the rest of him, would relish exploring. So that was the redoubtable Lady Strathford. Luck had been with him in making her acquaintance.

      Shrouded in her somber mourning colors, he initially thought her another solemn wren. All that changed when she looked up at him and very clearly spoke her mind. The combination of her flashing blue eyes, saucy high cheekbones and unruly blonde hair – sprouting out from under her bonnet – gave her a kind of rare spirit. Quite worked up his blood.

      Her voice had been the real surprise. Its velvety purr called to the man in him, even as she itemized his blunders, or rather, Cory’s blunders.

      Gratifying, that.

      Most women found his brother irresistible. Apparently, Lady Strathford possessed the rare immunity to Cory’s charms. The whole package quite stirred his insides to a fine hum.

      He