Page 42 of His Wicked Charm

“How could you bear to leave it?” Con went on.

“You would like it,” Lilah said darkly. She had known he would bedevil her about Barrow House. Whether he scorned her home or delighted in it, it would provide him plenty of fodder for his quips.

“Of course.” He resumed his study of the house. “It’s fantastical, the sort of place where you can imagine anything happening.”

“I fear I haven’t much imagination,” Lilah responded crisply. “It’s too large. The floors are uneven, the rooms massive and impossible to heat. It’s an absolute monster of a house.”

“Yes.” Con’s eyes gleamed.

They pulled into the large cobblestoned courtyard and rolled to a stop. She saw Con gazing around him with interest, taking in the out-of-place yew tree growing there, the dark stone fountain spouting water from the mouth of a Green Man face and the three sets of grand double-doored entries.

“Please tell me that if I pick the wrong door, I won’t fall into a pit.”

“We use the middle one,” Lilah said shortly and got out of the vehicle.

A startled footman came hurrying out to greet Lilah. Con left the trap to him and caught up with her. Bending close, he murmured, “It’s this house, isn’t it? That’s why you were so reluctant for me to stay here.”

Lilah stopped, meeting his all too knowing eyes. “Don’t be absurd.”

He started to reply, but at that moment the front door burst open and a woman swept out. Her face was stamped with surprised delight, and she spread out her arms in welcome. “Dilly! Oh, Dilly, my pet.”

“Dilly?” Con’s eyebrow quirked up.

“Don’t. You. Dare,” Lilah hissed at him and hastily shifted aside to avoid her aunt’s embrace.

The move was unsuccessful, and Aunt Vesta enveloped her in a hug. Though it had been almost ten years, it was painfully familiar. She smelled of the same heavy exotic scent and her embrace was as emphatic. Lilah stood stiffly in her arms. “Hello, Aunt Vesta.”

Even softened by age, Vesta still cut a dramatic figure. As tall as Lilah, she was considerably larger, her bosom jutting out like the prow of a ship above her corset. Ten years ago her hair had been a lighter gold than Lilah’s, but now it was jet-black, pulled up into an enormous pompadour and adorned with a curling feather.

A diamond clip anchored the feather to her hair, and more diamonds winked at her ears, wrists and neck. Her dress was black satin, with red and gold flowers embroidered in a diagonal slash across the front. The sweetheart neckline exposed much of her impressive bosom. In one hand she held a fan of white feathers to match the one in her hair.

Vesta stepped back, holding Lilah’s hands and beaming. “I cannot believe that you are here. What a wonderful surprise! But of course, things always work out just as they ought, don’t they? I’m so happy to see you again. It’s been far, far too long.”

Lilah refrained from pointing out that it had been Aunt Vesta who had left so abruptly and remained away so long. “It’s good to see you, too.”

“And who is your young beau?” Vesta cast a flirtatious sideways look at Con.

Lilah colored. “He’s not my beau.”

“Constantine Moreland, madam.” Con swept her aunt a bow as grandiose as the lady herself. “At your service.”

“Oh, my.” Aunt Vesta dimpled at Con, wafting her fan flirtatiously. “You have caught yourself a prize, Dilly.”

“Aunt Vesta! He’s not—”

Con, of course, ignored Lilah’s words and flashed a dazzling smile at Vesta. “No, ma’am, it is your niece who is the prize. I was merely lucky enough to be where Dilly could stumble over me.”

“Con...” Lilah gritted her teeth.

“Come in, come in.” Aunt Vesta hooked her arm through Con’s and swept him into the house. “I do hope you will call me Aunt Vesta. I feel so close to you already. I can tell that we are kindred spirits.”

Sourly, Lilah followed them inside.

“You must be exhausted after that terrible trip,” her aunt said, as if they had trekked through the desert rather than ridden a train for a few hours. “I know you must be famished. I will tell the kitchen to prepare an early supper. But first, no doubt, you’ll be eager to freshen up.”

Vesta whisked them up the stairs and down the hall. “Here, of course, is Delilah’s room. Ruggins sees to it that it’s always kept as if you’d just stepped out. Now, you, dear boy—I’m sure Ruggins will have the maids up here any moment to set up your room.” She smiled waggishly. “Across the hall and a proper distance away of course. We must observe the proprieties.”

“Must we?” Con responded in the same teasing tone.