Lessons in seduction, p.21
Lessons in Seduction, page 21
part #6 of Cambridge Fellows Series
John chatted happily as he struggled with his black tie. “I see this case is all solved now. The police have decamped with their man, or they will do once matron lets him out of her clutches. I suspect he’ll find prison a lot less of a restrictive regime than the one she imposes. I was in her hospital with an infected toe—one of my particularly hefty partners squashed it during a waltz—and it’s not an experience I would care to repeat.”
“The dancing or the hospital?” Orlando grinned. He would miss John’s friendship—he’d proved to be good, sensible company. If it didn’t mean that all his cover would be gone, he would have invited the man to come up to Cambridge for the Lent bumps or something. But Mr. Wilson had suggested Orlando remain incognito for a few days, until Ashton-Hall returned in all his glory to whisk the ladies around the floor and make surreptitious overtures to some of the men who might just be that way inclined. It would allow the whole episode to be rounded off without any further scandal; Mr. Agnew wasn’t sure he wanted word to get around that yet another deception had taken place at his hotel. “I shan’t miss dancing with Lady Samantha Lewis when I return to London. I just hope she doesn’t turn up at the Ritz.”
“Don’t you mean when you return to Cambridge, Oliver? Or should I say Dr. Coppersmith?” John watched contentedly as Orlando yanked at the shoelace he was tying and snapped it in two with a curse.
“How long have you known?”
“Since you arrived. Don’t worry, I haven’t told anyone and you never gave yourself away. I’d seen you before, that’s all, you and Dr. Stewart, at Bath of all places. A very nice young lady whom I know—
she’s a nurse there—had got tickets for an open-air production of Macbeth. While we didn’t get to sit anywhere near you—hobnobbing with the Duke of Connaught and all, eh, Oliver?—we saw you and Mrs.
Stewart. Someone my friend knows who was in the cast told us all about the two Cambridge dons who liked to solve crimes and who’d been helping with the play. I believe Dr. Stewart was a tree?”
“He was the chief part of Birnham Wood,” Orlando said with great pride. “John, I have to thank you for keeping my secret.”
“That was my pleasure. I guessed you were here incognito and I didn’t want to get in the way.
Although I did wonder whether you would realise I had twigged about things.”
“I guess I should have done. You were always very helpful in terms of seeming to ask the right question at the right time, to Christine and Paula for example.”
John grinned. “It was fun to be in on the game, only it’s not really a game, is it? I can see why the thrill of the chase is so attractive but that poor old chap having to go to court and face the noose, that’s the ugly side, isn’t it?”
Orlando sighed. “It is. Although if people commit murder they must expect to face the consequences at some point. We’re just agents making it happen—if it weren’t us, it would be someone else.”
www.samhainpublishing.com
133
Charlie Cochrane
John rummaged in a drawer and offered a fresh pair of shoelaces. “So are you going to ‘come out’
about it all? Stand up on the dance floor and declare to the ladies of the ballroom that they’ve not been dancing with Oliver Carberry but with the famous mathematical detective Dr. Coppersmith of St. Bride’s?”
“I’d quite like to, but Mr. Agnew doesn’t think it would be quite the thing. He wants me just to slip away quietly, the day after tomorrow. It’ll be nice to get back to the old college.”
“Educating the sons of the rich much preferable to dancing with their wives and daughters, I suppose?
And talking of wives, I understand that Mrs. Stewart is due to arrive this evening.”
“What?” Orlando stopped a fraction short of snapping another shoelace in his alarm. “Mrs. Stewart, here? She can’t. I won’t let her see me like this.”
“Then you’d better adopt another disguise because I have it on good authority she’ll arrive in time to be seeing you trip the light fantastic. I say, do up those laces, you’re going to…” but the injunction not to trip over was lost on Orlando’s back as the man sped out of the door and with no compunction regarding propriety legged it straight to Jonty’s room.
“What’s all this about my mother-in-law?” Orlando didn’t even bother to knock on the door, just barging in and finding Jonty in a state of undress, trousers still over the back of a chair waiting to be slipped on.
“You don’t have a mother-in-law, unless you’ve married that Paula on the side.”
“Don’t play the innocent with me. Your mama, I hear she’s due to arrive at any moment and then she’ll see me dancing.”
“Oh that, yes. The old girl insisted on coming down now that the case has been solved. She assumed you’d be coming out of your disguise and would squire her around the floor a few times. The broomstick is due to land on the roof at any moment, or perhaps she’ll bring the chariot with the knives on the wheels, the one drawn by fire-breathing—”
“Will you never shut up? I can’t dance tonight, not if she’s going to see me. And that’s final.”
Orlando sat down and crossed his arms, looking for all the world like a seven-year-old in a paddy.
“Can you two keep the noise down?” Mr. Stewart strode through the interconnecting door like Jove en route to finding out which of the minor deities was making such a din with their lightning bolts. “And put your trousers on, Jonty, for goodness sake, this is not a bordello.”
“I can’t let Mrs. Stewart see me in such an undignified state. I said that from the start.” Orlando folded his arms even tighter.
Mr. Stewart sighed. “Then I’m going to have to talk to Mr. Agnew, aren’t I, and persuade him to let the cat out of the bag.” He produced a theatrical roll of the eyes. “Helena will be so very disappointed, though. She was desperate to dance with you, Orlando. Do you know, apart from a few reels at the Hogmanay ball, she’s never had the opportunity.”
134
www.samhainpublishing.com
Lessons in Seduction
The folded arms relaxed slightly. “I would hate to deny Mrs. Stewart anything she wished, but I can’t let her see me as a gigolo.” The last word was whispered as Orlando felt befitted its scandalous nature.
“Then we need to tell Agnew your true identity must be revealed, then you can dance the night away with Mama to your mutual hearts’ content.” Jonty buttoned up his flies.
“I promised Mr. Agnew I’d dance this evening, though. It’s going to be difficult for him to get a replacement at a few hours’ notice. Couldn’t you keep her away from the ballroom, just for tonight? Then tomorrow I can take off my metaphorical mask and I’ll dance with her, and Mrs. Allender and that nice Miss Jordan. All of them, till the cows come home.”
Jonty grinned. “I will. She’ll be disappointed but I’ll explain that her pleasure will be simply delayed not cancelled. And we’ll all three of us persuade Mr. Agnew to let you reveal your true identity. On one condition.”
“What’s that?” This—one of Jonty’s harebrained schemes no doubt—was just the sort of thing he should dread, but anything was better than the alternative.
“Do you remember in France, some of those new dances we saw? Well…”
The ballroom at the Regal was full to bursting. Word had got around that Oliver Carberry was really the famous Dr. Coppersmith and everyone wanted to take what might be their last chance of seeing him whirl around the floor. He’d been hiding away most of the day involved, it seemed, with something highly secret, and Mrs. Spreadbury, who was trying to regain the ground she’d lost in the gossiping stakes, had been trying to imply she knew exactly what he was up to. No one was prepared to listen anymore.
He’d emerged at dinner, making a four with Jonty and his parents, looking as handsome as ever, if not quite so stern. Several females were whispering jealously about how a woman of Mrs. Stewart’s age could work such wonders on this young man, to the extent that he was smiling, laughing and very much at ease.
The four moved into the ballroom where a table had been reserved for them by Mr. Agnew and they watched John expertly taking Mrs. Allender for a waltz. Christine made a beeline for Orlando but he turned and talked to Miss Jordan at exactly the right moment, making it impossible to be invited to dance without being actually rude. Poor Jonty ended up being waltzed around the floor, much to Paula’s annoyance.
And still Orlando didn’t take to the floor, not until the leader of the orchestra began to play the introduction to a rather unusual dance—spiky, almost aggressive-sounding music, unfamiliar to almost all the ears present. At this point Orlando rose and bowed to Mrs. Stewart, who took his hand and let herself be led to the dance floor. The music swelled and the couple, who were the only ones present familiar with the steps, began to flick their legs and promenade sinuously up and down.
“By George!” Mrs. Allender, who’d joined their table, had recognised the music straight away, she being so well travelled. “It’s the tango! Richard, I never knew Helena had it in her.”
www.samhainpublishing.com
135
Charlie Cochrane
“The lads saw it in France in the summer and they’ve been trying to walk her through it all afternoon, with help from that nice lad who waltzed you. I think she’s doing a grand job.” Mr. Stewart’s bosom swelled with pride—his wife was still a magnificent creature. “Don’t you think so, Jonty?”
“She is indeed, Papa. I think this will be talked about at the Regal long after the murder that wasn’t and the murder that was are forgotten.”
“It’s good to be home, Orlando. Shingles was nice but it wasn’t ours, was it? And it always felt a bit hole-in-corner. I want to be back in my own bed—or yours, not fussy—with my own things about me. And it’ll be an awfully long time before I enjoy a game of charades again.”
Jonty picked up the small pile of post, Mrs. Ward having gone home as soon as the case had been solved and been in residence sufficient time to get things sorted out. There wasn’t a lot to deal with, their ever-resourceful housekeeper having arranged to have their letters picked up daily and forwarded to Shingles post-haste. Although one particular missive, in a very distinctive hand, had arrived in the interim between leaving Kent and arriving home and Jonty was desperate to open it.
“Well, I’m blowed!” He broke out into a huge grin and waved the letter at his lover. “Get a butcher’s at this, Orlando, it’s most sensational thing to come out of St. Bride’s for years.”
“Even more sensational than you and I setting up house and bed together?” Orlando took the little missive, read it, then he too whistled. “Stone me, she’s only gone and done it.”
“She has indeed, and at her age, too. Well, it’s a long time since I’ve been to a wedding, and I shall look forward very much to brushing down the old morning suit and donning a white carnation. Shame we’ll never have our own but perhaps we could whisper the words of the service under our breath and it would sort of count.” Jonty gently caressed his friend’s cheek. “I don’t think Miss Peters would begrudge us part of her pleasure.”
“I’m sure she wouldn’t. Mrs. Ariadne Sheridan. It’s a bit of a mouthful but I hope she’ll be happy.”
“Even if she knows rude words?” Jonty drew his lover to him, to share a kiss.
“Even then. I’d never begrudge anyone the satisfaction of finding their true love, like I have.”
“Soppy pants. I’m so glad you’re back to being my Dr. C. again. You were lovely to look at as a dancing partner but I found it hell not being the one you whisked around the floor. We’ll have to find a way to dance together, won’t we? Even if we have to hire a hall and a band and blindfold them.”
Orlando laid his face on his friend’s hair. “We might just have to do that, you know. To celebrate our next anniversary.” He kissed Jonty’s face, brow to jawline. “I know. We’ll sell off some jewels and rent the whole of the Regal.”
“Splendid idea, Orlando. Then you can be my own private gigolo.”
“I was not a gigolo…”
136
www.samhainpublishing.com
About the Author
Charlie Cochrane’s ideal day would be a morning walking along a beach, an afternoon spent watching rugby, and a church service in the evening, with her husband and daughters tagging along, naturally. She loves reading, theatre, good food and watching sport, especially rugby. She started writing relatively late in life but draws on all the experiences she’s hoarded up to try to give a depth and richness to her stories.
To learn more about Charlie Cochrane, please visit her website www.charliecochrane.co.uk. You can send an email to Charlie at cochrane.charlie2@googlemail.com or join in the fun with other readers and writers of gay historical romance at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/SpeakItsName.
Look for these titles by Charlie Cochrane
Now Available:
Lessons in Love
Lessons in Desire
Lessons in Discovery
Lessons in Power
Lessons in Temptation
Coming Soon:
Lessons in Trust
He thinks he has everything. Until someone tries to steal it.
Lessons in Temptation
© 2009 Charlie Cochrane
Cambridge Fellows Mysteries, Book 5
For friends and lovers Orlando Coppersmith and Jonty Stewart, a visit to Bath starts out full of promise. While Orlando assesses the value of some old manuscripts, Jonty plans to finish his book of sonnets. Nothing exciting…until they are asked to investigate the mysterious death of a prostitute.
Then Orlando discovers that the famous curse of MacBeth extends far beyond the stage. It’s bad enough that Jonty gets drawn into a local theatre’s rehearsals of the play. The producer is none other than Jimmy Harding, a friend from Jonty’s university days who clearly finds his old pal irresistible. Worse, Jimmy makes sure Orlando knows it, posing the greatest threat so far to their happiness.
With Jonty involved in the play, Orlando must do his sleuthing alone. Meanwhile, Jonty finds himself sorely tempted by Jimmy’s undeniable allure. Even if Orlando solves the murder, his only reward could be burying his and Jonty’s love in an early grave…
Warning: Contains sensual m/m lovemaking and men taking hot baths.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Lessons in Temptation: Jonty and Orlando were taking a small pre-prandial sherry in the bar when Jimmy Harding appeared, looking rather flushed.
“Gentlemen, I hope you will pardon me. I’ve had to run these last ten minutes so as not to be late.”
Jimmy beamed, looking from man to man as if expecting an immediate flurry of forgiveness.
“Did your meeting with the council go on so long?” Orlando’s tone was as stony as his face.
Jimmy shook his head and grimaced. “No, not at all. Although it took a while for them all to turn up and then discuss for half an hour or so exactly why they were meeting.”
“Sounds like a typical council. It can be like that at Bride’s.” Jonty sought to provide some warmth of welcome amid the glacial chill his lover emanated.
“It’s like that anytime people meet with bees in their several bonnets. Once things got under way I persuaded them fairly quickly that we weren’t about to engage in some lascivious production which would sully the morals of the good folk of Bath. And the fact that the Duke of Connaught is coming down to see our first night sort of tipped the balance.” He signalled for the waiter, then ordered a glass of beer. “It was afterwards the trouble started. I got accosted, Jonty. Barely escaped alive.”
Orlando started, horrified. “A physical assault, in broad daylight?”
Jimmy laughed. “No, that would have been a simple matter of fisticuffs from which I could have made my escape merely bruised and battered. I was accosted by a woman.”
“Some people would envy you that.” Jonty smiled. He vaguely remembered a string of women who’d flirted with the handsome Mr. Harding, fascinated by his looks and mellow American accent. He also recalled how disappointed they’d all ended up.
“Well I’d have been glad to swap places with them. This lady was on the matronly side—she was part of the moral majority on the committee. Once she’d decided that I wasn’t about to try to corrupt the city, she insisted I come home for tea, cakes and meeting her daughters. All of them eligible and every one with a face like a barn door, if you get my meaning, Dr. Coppersmith.” He nodded to Orlando, who was finding it hard to remain civil to the man, as he was demonstrating an inclination towards flirting with Jonty again.
“And did the lady in question seem determined that you wouldn’t escape until marriage had been proposed to one of them?” Jonty spoke lightly although he was well aware of the nervous tension in his voice.
“Well, that’s what I thought at first, with all the questions about my family and their business. But then she began to dismiss the young ladies one by one, on errands, until there was just the two of us alone.”
Jimmy grimaced. “Tell me, have you ever been in a room on your own with a determined woman of nearly fifty? She was almost sitting in my lap before I managed to persuade her to let me go.”
“Just how did you manage that?” Jonty was keeping half an eye on the mathematical volcano bubbling up at his side. “I know some very resolute women—my mother is one and the Master of Bride’s sister is another. I can’t imagine Ariadne Peters letting any man out of her clutches once she’d set her mind on him.”
“Oh, I suddenly remembered the old ruse my father had once played when he was being ensnared by an extremely plain but very rich, old young lady, if you get my drift. I pleaded that I had to get home as I was a member of a very strict ascetic sect who couldn’t be out after dark and had eschewed all the sins of the flesh.”
