Page 52 of Love with a Notorious Rake

The sound of conversation soon disappeared, and a loud buzzing replaced it. It took all of Aidan’s sparse self-control to keep from staggering at the sight of her, for it had the force of a blow to the chest. Cristyn looked exquisite, wearing a lavender gown of simple elegance, with white lace across her décolletage, giving one and all a glimpse of her magnificent cleavage. The color, of course, enhanced her beautiful eyes, alabaster skin, and glossy black hair.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see McRae giving her a bold inspection when they were introduced by Middlemiss. Aidan burned with possessiveness. How dare that cretin even look at Cristyn? But his focus remained on her. She hadn’t looked his way. Instead, she was being escorted to the punchbowl. Look my way. Just once.

“Do you know that luscious creature?”

Aidan had been caught up in drinking in Cristyn’s stunning appearance, and as a result he had not seen McRae sidle up next to him. Thankfully the buzzing in his head had quieted. In an indifferent tone, he replied, “His nurse, Miss Cristyn Bevan. But I am sure you have already been introduced.” He paused, raised the cup to his lips, the liquid barely touching them. The punch was nauseatingly sweet. “She is the lady who wandered into the spinning room a few weeks past.”

“The one you put the run to? My God, if I had known she was such a beauty, I would have allowed her to attend the meeting with the doctor. She would have been a lovely distraction while Middlemiss droned on about treating the brats.” McRae leaned in and whispered, “Imagine her spread over the desk, skirts thrown over her head.” He chuckled lasciviously.

Aidan gripped his glass so tight it nearly shattered. It would be his distinct pleasure to see to this man’s complete ruin. His blood boiled at a dangerous, high heat, an intoxicating combination of searing desire for Cristyn and intense hatred for McRae. Aidan thought it best not to reply to the disgusting remark. But, oh, how McRae would answer for his misogynistic, disrespectful statement. “You wished to speak to me?”

“Ah, yes. I must say, when you first arrived here at the mill, I was suspicious. Regardless of your recommendation from my acquaintance, Viscount Kerridge, I found it all rather strange. I mean, Hanson and his family vanished in the night. Then I received a curt note claiming he would not be returning to his position. Blasted ingrate. After all I’ve done for him.”

“Hmm.” Aidan had nothing to add, for he couldn’t care less.

“I sent Meeker along to Hanson’s residence this afternoon. The place had been emptied out. Well, good riddance.” McRae snorted. “Come to my office tomorrow at three. I wish to discuss the possibility of making your temporary position a permanent one. You’ve proven your worth.”

Aidan gave McRae a sidelong glance. “In what way, sir?”

“Meeker reports that you are a man after my own heart. Plus, I saw you disciplining one of the older urchins in the courtyard. Well done. They all have to be kept in line, regardless of age or gender.”

“I am not sure I wish to make this permanent, as I have other commitments,” Aidan murmured.

“Do you? We’ve tried to check your background. There wasn’t much to find. You will need to fill in the blanks if you do decide to stay. But we will discuss it more tomorrow. I can make it worth your while. Come, and I will introduce you to the others. All upstanding men of business.”

Hardly. But Aidan went through the motions, shaking hands, acutely aware of Cristyn in the room. When he glanced her way, she was not looking at him. But judging by the stiff set of her delicate shoulders, she was as aware of him as he was of her.

He waited patiently for his chance. Middlemiss barely left her side, damn him. But when the grocer pulled him away, Aidan made his excuses to the other men, placed his cup on the table, and headed toward her. The fresh scent of violets filled his nostrils. He stood in front of her and held out his hand. “Good evening.” She looked away. “Take the hand, Cristyn, people are watching.”

With a huff, she slipped her hand in his. Aidan gripped it; although he was not wearing any gloves and she was, a sizzling heat blazed between them. Slowly, he released her hand, his fingertips trailing across her palm, causing his heart to thump madly. “We need to talk.”

“There is nothing to say. You’ve made your true self known to me. How deluded I’ve been all these months.” Her beautiful eyes flared angrily. “Am I deluded?”

“I know you were in the inn a few nights ago. You’d come to talk to me, hadn’t you? Tessie informed me of your presence. Not everything is as it seems, Cristyn.”

Cristyn opened her mouth to retort when Middlemiss appeared at her side. Blast the man for his miserable timing! The doctor clasped her elbow as if staking his claim. “Mr. Black, good evening. They are calling us to the dining room. Cristyn, allow me to escort you.” She was swept away from him, and Aidan clenched his fists. When in the hell would he be able to speak to her again? He had to try. Hopefully, tomorrow, there would be a response from his brother. He needed his advice more than ever.

* * * *

What did Cristyn expect? That when she saw Aidan again she would feel completely apathetic? No, for one did not turn off the spigot of emotions immediately. At least, she couldn’t. Not with him standing before her, resplendent in his black coat and silver cravat. He was by far the most handsome man at this event, and he drew the women’s eyes—except Mrs. McRae, who did not appear to be aware of what was going on around her.

They entered the dining area—not overly large, but enough space to accommodate twelve people at the table. Cristyn was struck at the opulence of a multi-storied flat situated above a cotton mill. The table held lit silver candelabras, fine white-and-silver china, and crystal goblets of various sizes with matching decanters. A fruit centerpiece of sliced pineapple, grapes, and berries finished the elegantly set table. Two men dressed in fine livery and two maids in starched white uniforms commenced with serving the multicourse meal.

Cristyn was seated across from Paris, with Aidan farther along the table, one chair away from McRae. A watery bowl of broth was placed before her. All this money spent on fancy dishes and rich meals, while people in the village fought over a crust of bread. She suddenly wished she had not asked to attend this miserable banquet. Paris had warned her to keep her decided opinions about social injustice to herself, in order not to jeopardize their treating the children. Small talk broke out at the table during the soup course, which carried over into the salad, then the fish.

“Miss Bevan, have you recovered from your ordeal?”

The table grew silent; all eyes were on her. The woman asking the question was a stocking magnate’s wife. Blast her for bringing up the robbery! “What ordeal do you speak of, Mrs. Tramble?”

“My word, how many have you experienced since arriving in Earl Shilton?” Polite laughter scattered between the guests.

“I’ve had a few, for witnessing such widespread and grinding poverty certainly is harrowing. Or do you speak of my reticule being stolen?”

Paris shot her a warning look, and Cristyn took it under advisement. But the woman’s tone grated. The condescending expression aggravated her as well.

“The thievery, of course,” Mrs. Tramble said as she shoved a piece of shrimp into her mouth.

“I was pushed to the ground. The young lad managed to get away with a lace handkerchief and a few hairpins—hardly worth the bother. I was not injured,” Cristyn replied.