When Tempting a Rogue (21 page)

At first Trystan wanted to disagree, but then he thought about it. Grey had been attacked years earlier and left with a nasty scar on the left side of his face. The attack had been rumored to be the work of an ex-lover, and it affected Grey deeply. He withdrew from the world. Something had happened to Vienne to make her protect herself so fiercely. Perhaps his brother was right.

“How?” he asked as the four of them prepared to leave the room.

Grey placed a hand on the small of his wife’s back and shot him a rueful smile. “Relentlessly.”

Chapter 12

I
nspector Jacobs from Scotland Yard was an average man in appearance, but beyond that he was anything but. He was neither tall nor short, neither fat nor thin. His hair was the same ordinary shade of brown as his suit and his eyes were a common hue of hazel. His features were entirely ordinary, which would make it rather difficult to give an accurate description. He was, in short, the sort of man who could go about unnoticed, and that made him both highly useful and extremely dangerous, depending upon how you looked at it.

Trystan was pleased to have him investigating their concerns. No one else seemed prepared to take it all that seriously, chalking the mishaps up as simple accidents. Inspector Jacobs, however, seemed inclined to agree with Trystan and Vienne—these were not accidents.

“When did these incidents first begin?” he asked, opening his notebook to a fresh page. He sat in one of Vienne’s wingback chairs with his legs crossed. On the table beside him was a glass of water, the only refreshment he accepted.

Trystan turned to Vienne. “There were letters, weren’t there?”

“Yes,” she responded, her attention focused on the inspector. “I dismissed them as harmless. I might still were it not for how events have escalated.”

The inspector nodded. “What exactly were in these letters?”

“Warnings to stop construction, that Trystienne’s—that is the name we’ve considered so far for our venture—would lead to the downfall of virtuous women. I kept a few if you would like to see them.”

“I would, yes. So you didn’t suspect any malicious intent behind these letters?”

Vienne shrugged. “No. They did not say anything the fuddy-duddies in the papers didn’t already suggest.”

The inspector smiled at her use of
fuddy-duddies
. Trystan did as well. He felt compelled to add his own thoughts. “It’s been a shared opinion of some of the more old-fashioned and conservative minds in this country that if women can shop for everything under one roof, they will go mad with temptation and spend their husbands dry.”

Jacobs nodded, scribbling in his book. “Never mind that, at least she will have something to show for her spending, as opposed to her husband, who probably gambles.”

“Exactly,” Vienne agreed, shooting a pleased glance in Trystan’s direction. “We offer accessibility and convenience, certainly not sin and
not
debauchery.”

The inspector looked up with a faint curve of his lips. “It occurs to me, Madame La Rieux, that you have set yourself up to take not only the wife’s money but the husband’s as well. Very shrewd of you.”

Vienne puffed up like a peacock under his praise. Trystan watched with interest. The inspector was an older man, intelligent and seemingly open-minded. He was exactly the sort that would draw her interest—not necessarily sexual, but still intimately. She courted approval from such gentlemen.

“So it began with letters, then a workman was injured?”

Vienne nodded. “Two, though the first was so common I wonder if perhaps it’s not a simple coincidence.”

“But then you took a nasty fall”—he consulted a few pages back in his book—“from a ladder that was supposedly secure.”

“Yes.” Trystan reached over and squeezed her hand—a gesture the inspector noticed.

“So these incidents began before Lord Trystan became your partner.”

Trystan frowned. “Yes. What are you implying, Inspector?”

The man raised his head, a bemused expression on his face. “Nothing at all, sir. I’m merely eliminating you as a target.”

But not as a suspect, Trystan thought to himself. “Both Madame La Rieux and I have sunk a tremendous amount of funds and time into this project, Inspector. These incidents have cost us considerably. I am concerned that next time someone might be seriously injured—or worse.”

Inspector Jacobs nodded. “I’m afraid that is a viable concern. Often this sort of criminal will escalate his attacks if lesser measures do not succeed in achieving his goal, which is to obviously make certain”—he consulted his book again—“ ‘that Trystienne’s never opens its doors to the public.’ ”

Vienne’s sharp breath caught his attention. He squeezed her hand again. “That won’t happen,” Trystan promised before turning his head to find the inspector watching them with an unreadable gaze.

“Do either of you have any enemies or competitors who might want to do you harm?”

“I cannot imagine any of them going to such lengths,” Trystan replied. “I’ve tried to make as few enemies as possible. However, I’m sure there might be one or two.”

Vienne nodded. “There are always those who think a woman has no place in business. A few clientele have expressed their disappointment at losing money at my tables. I am, unfortunately, aware that there are people who would like to do me harm.”

To hear her speak so, in such a cavalier tone, chilled Trystan to the bone.

Inspector Jacobs seemed to have no trouble believing it. “I will need names from both of you so I may investigate further. Meanwhile, I will have men stationed at the site around the clock, as well as covert inquiry agents talking to various dissidents around the city. This may not be revenge related at all, but the work of an unwell mind.”

That didn’t make Trystan feel any better about the situation, but he appreciated that Jacobs at least seemed determined to get to the root of the issue.

He rose to his feet and the smaller man followed suit. Trystan offered his hand. “Thank you, Inspector. You will be in touch?”

Jacobs accepted the handshake with a firm grip. “You may depend upon it, Lord Trystan. Have those names sent ’round to me as soon as possible. If you think of anything else, please don’t hesitate to contact me.”

They thanked him and insured him they would do just that. Then they stood together in silence and watched as he left the room. Trystan waited a few moments before speaking, wanting to make certain they were indeed alone. “He’s going to investigate me.”

Vienne didn’t seem the least bit surprised by his claim.
“Moi, aussi.”

“You?” Trystan scowled at her. “He thought you were wonderful. Besides, you were a victim of one of the incidents.”

“Yes, and escaped relatively unscathed.” She angled her body toward him. “I’m not saying Monsieur Inspector believes either of us responsible, but he’s going to do a thorough job of making sure we are not.”

“Agreed. I suppose we should be thankful. That is his job, after all.”

“Indeed.” She smiled at him. “And now we find ourselves alone.”

Trystan returned the playful smile. “We could go to the site together.”

“A wonderful notion, Lord Trystan,” she agreed as she walked across the room to close the door. He heard the lock click. As she came back toward him, her smile took on a seductive quality. “I thought perhaps first we might have a business meeting—between partners.”

He took her into his arms without hesitation, enjoying this playful side of her nature. “I think that an excellent idea. Where would you like to begin?”

She tugged on his cravat. “Suitable business attire. I’m sorry, sir, but you are wearing entirely too many clothes. I’ve had complaints.”

“Perhaps you could assist me in finding a more appropriate state of dress,” he suggested, and then lowered his head to hers.

A
few days later, her back aching from the onslaught of her menses, Vienne began to feel the urge to run.

It wasn’t Trystan’s fault. He was perfect—the perfect business partner, the perfect lover. He knew when to take charge and when to let her make the decisions. He knew when to give her room to breathe and when to sweep her off her feet. Occasionally he got under her skin, but then she did the same to him. They were two individuals who spent the better part of their days and their nights together. Anyone else and she would have killed him already.

It was the fact that she didn’t want to kill Trystan that frightened her. Normally by this part of the affair she would have settled into a routine of her design, and her lover would have no choice but to follow that routine as well. But with Trystan she was more than content to give his schedule as much consideration as her own. She was not the end-all, be-all of his life.

And she missed him when he wasn’t there. She looked forward to seeing him. She trusted his judgment and found herself asking his opinion even in moments when she normally would have made the decision on her own. It wasn’t that she was dependent on him; it was that she wanted to share these things and hear his thoughts.

Was it any wonder she was terrified? The man was becoming entirely too large a facet of her day-to-day life. When Trystienne’s opened, there would be little need for them to spend quite so much time together. He would no doubt want to begin traveling again, and both of them would develop other projects. He would find a wife and their affair would come to an end.

Vienne would rather end it now than be tossed over for a younger, fresher replacement. Unfortunately, she couldn’t bring herself to end it. She told herself that it wouldn’t be good for their partnership if she left him. But it was necessary to put a little distance between them, just to prove to herself that she didn’t need to have him around all the time. It was unbecoming in a woman of her age and position to be so attached to a man like him.

It was the same issue she’d run into years ago. She liked Trystan. He was the kind of a man a woman could give herself to wholly. The kind of man who made her want to believe she could live the fairy tale, happily ever after.

But she didn’t believe in happy endings. If they did exist, they were for women more trusting and better—for she was fairly certain she did not deserve to be loved after what she did.

Her monthly cycle provided the perfect excuse for a little time spent apart. Unfortunately, it also made her more inclined to feel particularly dramatic about the whole thing. Trystan, of course, understood.

Damn him.

Today she was interviewing potential employees, a task Trystan left entirely in her hands. He knew she would give him no end of grief if he hired someone who turned out to be ill suited for the work. He was used to investing and improving business, while she had more experience dealing with the public. The upper classes were high spenders, but they could also be colossal pains in the arse, as Sadie was fond of saying.

“Of course, we will not be open for several more months,” she explained to the young woman sipping a cup of tea across the table from her. She’d had refreshments sent over from Sadie’s tearoom on Bond Street for the interviewing process. “But I will need assistance from all the new employees in readying each boutique for opening day.”

The young woman nodded her pretty blond head. “I currently work at a hat shop and we regularly make up displays and such things as to draw the customer’s attention. It’s one of my favorite aspects of the job, to be honest.”

Vienne made note of that in her book of candidates. “Which shop do you work in?”

“Le Chapeau Moderne.”

Her pronunciation was good for an English person. Vienne nodded. “I’ve seen the displays. I quite enjoyed the one with a lady’s top hat amid playing cards and Ascot adverts. Very provocative.”

The young woman beamed. “That was one of mine, madam. Some thought it might be a little too risqué, but isn’t that the point?”

Vienne looked her in the eye. “Miss Gayle, I do not believe you are suited for the position of clerk at Trystienne’s.” Before the blonde could look too crestfallen, she hastened to add, “You are clearly much better suited to window dressing. You will decide how items are to be displayed and have another girl beneath you to assist. You will also work with me on advertising. How does two pounds a week sound?”

Cornflower blue eyes widened.
Oh no, was that a tear?
Vienne did not do well with tears. Crying women frightened her.

“Madam, I . . . I do not know what to say!”

“Say yes. You’ll work for every shilling, I assure you—and you will have to spend time with me, which will lead you to one day demand at least an extra twenty pence a week, I’m certain.” She extended her hand. “Do we have an agreement?”

A firm hand gripped hers. “We do. When would you like me to start?”

“Three weeks from tomorrow. I have a modiste from Paris coming to discuss fashions for next season. You will join us. I will have a note sent around to your address with a time and place.”

She walked the happy young woman to the door. Trystan came in just as they reached the exit. He tipped his hat to both of them before continuing up to the next floor.

Miss Gayle turned coyly to Vienne. “Will you tolerate a little brazenness in your employees, Madame La Rieux?”

Vienne raised her brows. “On most days I demand it.”

The other woman nodded in the direction Trystan had gone. “That Lord Trystan is a very fine figure of a fellow.”

Vienne chuckled. She should reprimand the impertinence, but didn’t have the heart or the inclination. “That’s not brazen, Miss Gayle. That’s God’s own truth.”

When her new employee had left, Vienne leaned her back against the door and let her gaze drift up the wide staircase. There would be a lift installed as well, but the stairs would be a focal point of the entryway. Hand-carved oak, polished to a rich sheen, with a runner of navy, salmon, and cream carpet down the center.