The Pleasure Trap Read Free Page A

wasn’t a secret. No one had tried to keep the information from her. The simple truth was, over time, the details had become blurred. Her aunt thought Antonia had been out walking at night in the gardens of a house that was perched on a cliff. Eve remembered it as a quarry. The one thing they agreed on was that it happened in Kent, just an hour or so out of London.
    Why couldn’t she remember? She remembered finding her mother’s body. She remembered the servants dragging her away. But most of all, she remembered the deep well of grief and guilt, all mixed up together, that had sucked her down to an unending pit of despair.
    She’d learned to deal with the grief, but the guilt was something else. It felt like a chip of ice lodged in her heart, and no one and nothing had ever thawed it.
    She made a clicking sound with her tongue. She wasn’t usually so maudlin. What on earth had got into her? She wanted to revisit the scene of her mother’s tragic accident. That was all it was.
    A warm tongue licked her hand. When Eve smiled, Dexter thumped his tail and barked.
    “Another mind reader in the family,” Eve told her dog, “is one too many for my comfort. No, I’m not cast down. I’m happy. Look at me! I’m smiling. And why shouldn’t I be? I have my writing, I have my small circle of friends in Henley and an exciting trip to London coming up. Who wouldn’t be happy in my shoes?”
    Dexter was an overgrown, good-hearted pup that loved everyone indiscriminately. If a burglar entered the house, he wouldn’t raise the alarm. He’d want to be petted. If a rabbit bit him on the nose, he wouldn’t give chase unless he thought it was a game. Maybe when he was older, his doggie instincts would come into play.
    “You’re going to Lady Sayers’s for a little holiday,” she said. “Now what do you think of that?” Eve was sure Dexter would get a warm reception, because Lady Sayers was a doggie person.
    Dexter wagged his tail.
    “Want to go for a walk?”
    Dexter bolted to the door and looked over his shoulder to see if his mistress was following.
    Laughing, Eve got up. “See, I can read minds, too. There’s nothing to it.”
    She opened the door and followed Dexter down the stairs.

Chapter Two
    London, April 1818
    Ash Denison had time to spare before keeping an appointment with his tailor, so he dropped by his favorite club, Wattiers, where he knew he could be sure of the finest French cuisine to be had in London. Not only was Ash a connoisseur of fine food, but also of fine tailoring, fine horses, fine wine, and, it went without saying, fine women.
    He was a tall, athletically built young man with longish dark hair framing a face that was saved from being too handsome by a square, determined jaw. Though Ash was regarded as a dandy, his garments were conservative—dark coat impeccably tailored to his broad shoulders, and knit trousers molding his long muscular legs. What distinguished him from his conservative friends were his elaborately tied neckcloths and the quizzing glass that hung from a black ribbon around his neck. And what made him immensely popular were his easygoing manners and his unstinting generosity to anyone who needed a helping hand.
    Today, he dined alone, though there were plenty of acquaintances who would have been happy to join him if given a little encouragement. Ash had positioned his chair, however, so that his back was to the other diners. He was in a reflective mood, having just encountered the former dean of his college, who had opined, in no uncertain terms, that Ash’s life lacked focus and he’d expected him to have made his mark on the world by now. Ash was inclined to agree with him, but that did not mean he was unhappy or wanted to change his ways. He had no ambitions except to enjoy his life, each precious moment of it, and damned if he could see what was wrong with that.
    His dinner arrived—oysters en brochette with buttered asparagus and creamed potatoes. On this occasion,