A Seduction in Scarlet (Aphrodite's Club 1)

“Dozens, I should think. Why, is there any particular one you are interested in?”

“No.” It was going to be tricky. And how did he know that he would recognize her when he did see her? After two intense meetings he could close his eyes and feel the shape of her against his palms and his mouth, smell her perfume and taste her skin, but that wasn’t the same as coming face-to-face with someone in a crowded ballroom. He might not get the chance to get close enough to touch, and he couldn’t go around sniffing every woman in London for a particular perfume. And as for tasting…he’d be arrested and hauled before the magistrates for lewd behavior, if he wasn’t bundled off to an insane asylum.

“You are behaving very strangely lately, brother,” Sebastian said, as if he’d read his thoughts. “Is there something you need to get off your chest?”

“Not at all. I have a puzzle I am trying to solve, but never fear, I will solve it. I must,” he added, sotto voice.

“If you wish to attend any particular soiree or ball, Marcus, I’m certain ther

e would be no difficulty. You are single and handsome and brother to the Earl of Worthorne,” Francesca went on, her dark eyes twinkling.

“Thank you, my dear, but you forgot to mention feckless and penniless.”

“Nonsense, that is neither here nor there. As long as you don’t wish to marry into the royal circle, most girls could accommodate a little fecklessness, and there are quite a few heiresses looking for entry into the aristocracy—mill owners daughters and the like—so you don’t need to worry about your financial state.”

“I’ll let you know.”

He did attend a ball that evening, unwillingly partnering several attractive and eager ladies under the watchful eyes of their mamas and one jealous husband. He strolled through the saloon, a glass in his hand, certain he would recognize her.

He didn’t.

There was no one there who reminded him even remotely of the seductress in scarlet, and he returned home even more frustrated than before. He could give up, he supposed, but knew that was impossible. The only course open to him was to continue the search.

But it turned out, after all, that it was unnecessary to begin a wild and desperate round of social engagements. The following morning Martin finally came to see him.

“A drink, Martin?” Marcus asked, strolling over to the decanter and pouring himself some hair of the dog.

“Bit early for me, thank you, sir.”

“Never too early.”

“I apologize, sir, for taking so long to report to you. I hear that you’d been asking for me, eh, several times. If I’d known how urgently you wanted to see me, I would have written to you rather than waiting until I returned.”

“Never mind, it’s done now,” Marcus said with a hint of impatience. “Now tell me, what did you find out?”

Martin gave him a curious look. “Is the lady in question a friend of yours, sir?”

“Of course.” He cleared his throat. “Well, let’s just say I want her to be. Come on, Martin, don’t be coy, you’ve made me suffer long enough. Tell me her name.”

Martin shuffled nervously. “I know that she lives in Grosvenor Square.”

Marcus waited, but Martin said no more. “And?”

“It’s the residence of the late Lord Ellerslie.”

“Lord Ellerslie? The Nation’s Hero?”

His goddess was a member of Lord Ellerslie’s household? Immediately he dismissed the idea that she could be a servant or a maid. No, his lady was something more than that.

“But who is she, Martin?” he asked, frustrated. “I want to know her name, man!”

“She was wearing a veil and a cloak, sir. I followed her to the house but I didn’t have time to ask any questions because I had to go out of town. I’m sorry, but I’ve told you all I know.”

Marcus took a turn around the room, searching his memory for information on the Ellerslie family. There wasn’t much. He knew the old man had died two years ago, although the way he was still spoken about, you would not know it. He had been a hero of the Peninsula War and Waterloo, and then a dominant force at home. Queen Victoria adored him and gave him a state funeral, complete with muffled drums, a flag-draped coffin on a gun carriage, and plenty of somber mourners. Other than that, Marcus knew nothing. He certainly had never moved in such rarefied social circles himself, nor had any desire to.

“Very well, Martin. Thank you. I may need your services again, so for God’s sake stay in town. And don’t tell my brother about any of this. It’s personal.”

“Of course, sir.”