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Chapter Two
London
As Artemis stepped off the train onto Paddington Station’s teeming Platform One, she squared her shoulders and pushed her way through the heaving fray of passengers and those there to greet or bid them farewell. Overhead, the enormous vaulted wrought-iron and glass roof revealed a leaden gray sky, while all around the platform swirled clouds of gritty steam that had been belched from the departing train on the adjacent track. The acrid odor of jostling bodies and burning coal filled the air.
Old Nick’s nob.Artemis winced as a liveried footman accidentally elbowed her in the ribs. The hustle and bustle of city life was something she did not miss. At all. But it was too late to turn back now. She was actually here, in London, about to commence a brand-new chapter of her life. Abetterchapter. All going well…
Except things started tonotgo very well within a surprisingly short space of time. Within fifteen minutes, Artemis had ascertained that her two traveling trunks had gone missing and all she had in her possession besides her overstuffed carpetbag and coin purse was a great deal of simmering frustration.
After filing a “Missing Items” report at the Lost Property Office, she at last made her way toward the station’s exit. Before she’d departed from Bath, she’d sent a telegram to Aunt Roberta and Phoebe where they resided at Wagstaff House in Cadogan Square, and one to Lucy, to let them all know she’d quit her post and would soon be arriving in London, but she hadn’t mentioned precisely when.
While she wanted nothing more than to stay with Lucy, Artemis felt she owed it to her sister, Phoebe, to spend some time with her before the Season proper commenced in a fortnight. In any event, whether Artemis liked it or not, she was going to have to grin and bear it and stay with her difficult and overbearing aunt, at least for a little while.
Hefting her carpetbag from one gloved hand to the other, Artemis emerged onto Praed Street and scowled at the crowded pavement and traffic-congested road, then up at the sullen sky. It had begun to rain, and of course, she’d neglected to pack an umbrella. Thank goodness she had enough money to pay the cab fare to Cadogan Square. She’d rather not have to contend with a packed-to-the-gunwales omnibus.
Once she spied a gap in the sea of bodies and mushrooming umbrellas, she forged her way to the curb and for several frustrating minutes tried but failed to wave down a cab. The rain was growing heavier by the moment—the icy, needlelike drops pricked at her face and a sliver of her nape not protected by her bonnet and jacket’s collar—and just when she thought she’d best look for an omnibus after all, a hackney splashed to a halt a few feet away. Artemis rushed toward the cab’s door…and then crashed straight into an unyielding wall of masculine muscle that hadn’t been there a moment ago.
What the devil?
As Artemis’s shoulder connected with the wool-clad chest of the tall, solidly built stranger, she skidded and stumbled, and her full-to-bursting carpetbag flew out of her hand and onto the pavement. The battered clasp came undone, and several books fell out, skittering across the wet flagstones toward the gutter and the cab’s wheels.
“Lucifer’s love truncheon,” Artemis muttered without thinking. And then her heart did an odd little tumble when she realized that the man had put out a hand to stop her from slipping. His fingers were curled about her elbow, and when she looked up, her gaze collided with his. Caught.
Lingered.
Lucifer’s love truncheon indeed…
“I beg your pardon.” The man’s voice was a deep velvet stroke that Artemis felt all the way to her bones. From beneath the shadow of his top hat, storm-cloud gray eyes bore into hers and she was momentarily transfixed. Frozen.
It didn’t seem to matter that her carpetbag was on the ground with her books, getting wetter by the moment.
Because this man. He was…Artemis’s befogged brain struggled to function. To formulate a single thought. Retrieve a single word.
She had the oddest sensation of falling, plunging, as though this stranger’s gaze was a turbulent ocean and she was being pulled into a maelstrom. Sucked below, sinking deeper and deeper. Or perhaps she’d been struck by lightning. Awareness shot through her body like a searing hot electrical charge, heating her blood and scalding her cheeks, despite the chill rain trickling down the back of her neck.
Artemis instinctively recognized this man was as formidable as a force of nature. And just as dangerous. Not only was he as handsome as sin—all austere good looks with his sharply cut jaw and jet-black hair save for a touch of silver at the temples—but he exuded an innate authority.
He was clearly an aristocrat. Wealthy, beautiful, and powerful beyond imagining.
Beneath the scent of damp wool and starched linen, even his cologne—clean and sharp like the sea—smelled powerful.
Somehow Artemis absorbed all of these impressions within a few seconds. Between the space of one wildly pounding heartbeat and the next.
Then the stranger spoke again, rousing her from her stupor. “My sincerest apologies. It seems we were both intent on securing the same cab.”
Artemis swallowed. Drew a shaky breath. A shiver dashed down her spine, and she wondered how she could feel hot yet so cold at the same time. As though she’d suddenly been afflicted by a strange fever. “Yes…” she managed at last. “May I offer my apologies as well. I was in a rush and not paying attention to my surroundings.”
“No harm done at all. Not to me at least.” The gentleman at last released her arm. “But your books… Let me make amends for my own carelessness.”
In the next instant, he’d crouched down to retrieve her scattered belongings. His expertly tailored black trousers pulled tight over his muscular thighs, and Artemis had to remind herself not to stare at his legs or any other distinctly masculine parts in their immediate vicinity.Artemis Jones, stop gawking like an utter ninny, she silently admonished herself as she dropped to the ground beside him.He’s not the first indecently handsome man you’ve ever met. You’d do well to remember that the road to ruin is paved with lustful thoughts.
Reaching for Mary Wollstonecraft’sA Vindication of the Rights of Woman, she began, “You really don’t have to—” but then her breath caught as the stranger grasped the book at the very same moment. Their fingers brushed, and Artemis felt a spark for a second time. An electrical crackle that mysteriously penetrated the kid leather of her glove, then radiated up her arm, making her flesh burn and tingle. Thunder rumbled overhead.
The man withdrew his hand, but she sensed his gaze upon her, studying her face beneath the brim of her sodden bonnet. Had he felt that strange flicker of connection too?
“It’s the least I can do,” he said, handing overFrankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheusalong with Artemis’s own novel,Lady Violetta and the Vengeful Vampyre. One of his slashing black brows arched when he caught sight of the latter title. Or was it Mary Shelley’s book that he looked upon with disdain? Or that of Mary Shelley’s mother, Mary Wollstonecraft? The woman’s reputation was much maligned in some circles.
His next observation made it clear. “I see you’ve a penchant for ‘horrid’ novels.” His mouth twitched with a smile that bordered on sardonic. Even though his opinion shouldn’t matter, his change in demeanor rankled Artemis more than she could say.
