It started with a soft swipe of his tongue along the curve of her lower lip. Then a press of his lips, so different from Simon’s—thinner, firmer, more demanding. His head tilted and he fit his mouth over hers, stealing her breath, making it his own. Even as she struggled with the change, she understood it. Physical interaction was something they both felt comfortable with.
She opened to him, their movements controlled and leisurely, every touch of their tongues thought out and considered. It was a calculated encounter, one planned and executed with a purpose. This was not foreplay or a prelude. It was the finale.
No more emotion.
Then she ruined everything by reaching for his hand and lacing her fingers with his. Their grips tightened, and an edgy sound filled the shared space of their kiss. Whether it was his or hers, she could not tell. Unnerved by the sudden intimacy, she pulled away, turning to hide her face in the space between his shoulder and throat. He breathed harshly in the silence, his chest rising and falling rapidly against hers, which heaved similarly.
Eddington would come tomorrow with the offer to rid her of Welton and thereby give her Amelia. And all she had to promise was Christopher, served up on a silver salver.
She inhaled his scent, her breath still shaky.
“Maria.”
Her name. Spoken hoarsely. He said no more than that, but again, he didn’t have to.
Amelia exited the small manse in her temporary home of Lincolnshire and sucked fresh air deep into her lungs. Every home they occupied was in some state of disrepair—this one seemed clogged with dust—and each was a distant holding of someone her father knew. How he managed to secure use of the properties was a mystery to her, but then everything about her life was an enigma. No one told her anything, aside from the insistence that her sister Maria was a degenerate.
Pausing on the side of the house, Amelia looked over at the stables, her gaze searching for the tall, lean form of Colin and the reassurance the sight of him would bring. The handsome groomsman was the nephew of her coachman, and he’d been with her since they were children. He was three years older, yet he seemed much older than that. They’d been friends once, playing together in the moments when he was free from work, running through the fields and pretending they were people who lived in far different circumstances.
That seemed so long ago. Colin had matured and grown away from her. His free time was now spent with women his age or older, or with the other servants. He avoided her now and was curt and ill-tempered the rare times he was forced to speak with her. She was an annoying child of ten and six to a young man of nineteen. Despite this, she was quite besotted with him. Always had been. Prayed she would not always be. She had her pride, and being shunned by the object of her affection was so miserable she prayed for the day he affected her not at all.
Silently chastising herself for looking for him, Amelia turned away and found the unkempt pathway that she wandered along daily for exercise.
“You will grow out of it, too,” her last governess had said, when Amelia had cried over a particularly hurtful dismissal from Colin. She hoped that was true, that she would eventually grow out of her childish infatuation.
Soon. Please, God, make it soon.
Swinging her bonnet in her hand, Amelia circumvented the estate, jumping over raised tree roots and piles of fallen leaves with nimble, boot-clad feet.
When she reached the wooden fence that separated her from freedom, Amelia paused and for the first time considered what it would be like to flee. She’d never entertained the thought before, but now her thinking was altered by Maria’s attempt to retrieve her. What was out there? What adventures waited beyond her minute existence that consisted of servants and a governess and a life on the road?
“Ah, the pretty lass strays.”
Startled by the coarse masculine voice behind her, Amelia spun too quickly and nearly fell over.
“Heavens,” she cried breathlessly, her hand placed over her racing heart. She recognized the freckled young man who stood a few feet away as one of her father’s new lackeys. The ones he had hired to replace those lost in the altercation with Maria. “You gave me a fright.”
“Sorry,” he offered, smiling apologetically. Short and sinewy, the brown-haired boy was the youngest of the crew whose livelihood it was to keep her safe. Of course, she was beginning to suspect that they were supposed to keep her
in
, rather than keep others
out
.
She noted the long pole in his hand. “What are you doing?”
“Going fishing.” He gestured to the other side of the fence with a jerk of his chin. “There’s a stream over there.”
“Oh.” She didn’t mean to sound disappointed.
“Do you like fishing?” he asked, studying her curiously with pale blue eyes. Dressed in woolen breeches and coat, his overly long locks sticking out from beneath his cap, he didn’t look dressed for fishing, but what did she know?
“I’ve no idea,” she admitted. “I have never been fishing.”
He grinned, looking so boyish that she suspected he was the same age she was, maybe even younger. “Would you like to try it?” he offered. “I wouldn’t mind the company.”
Amelia frowned, curious but wary.
“The fish might bite, but I won’t,” he teased.
She chewed her lower lip.
“Come on, before Dickie comes around this way and keeps you from leaving.” He walked past her and hopped over the low fence. Then he held his hand out to her. “It’s not far. If you don’t like it, we can come right back.”
Knowing she probably shouldn’t go, Amelia went anyway, enjoying the rush of excitement she felt at doing something so completely out of the ordinary, something new and different.
“What is your name?” she asked, as he helped her over.
“Benedict. But everyone calls me Benny.”
“Hi, Benny.” She smiled shyly. “I’m Amelia.”
He released her, then tipped his hat in a grand bow before collecting his pole from where he’d set it aside to assist her. They walked without speaking for a few moments, moving through the thick grouping of trees until the sound of rushing water could be heard.
“How is it that you came to work for Lord Welton?” she queried, studying him with a sidelong glance.
He shrugged. “I heard there was work to be had and I showed my face at the spot I was told to.”
“What kind of living is this?” she wondered. “What skills will you gain? What will you do when you are no longer needed?”
He smiled, his eyes sparkling from within the shadow cast by the brim of his hat. “I’m earning my way down to London, you see. By the time I make it, I’ll have experience. Then I plan to work for St. John.”
“Who is that? What does he do?”
Benny stumbled to a halt, gaping at her. He blinked and then whistled low. “Yer green as grass,” he murmured, shaking his head, then he continued on.
“What does that mean?” she griped, stumbling after him.
“Never mind.”
They emerged from the coppice and approached a small but rapidly moving stream. The bed was rocky and the water shallow, a lovely place that carried the feeling of innocence, as if the area was rarely breached by anyone. Amelia plopped onto a fallen log and began to untie her boots, impatiently pushing her waist-length hair back over her shoulder. Benny moved to the shore and shrugged out of his coat. While he settled himself comfortably, she shucked her stockings. Then, lifting her skirts, she moved to the water and stepped carefully into it. Her breath caught as the water chilled her feet.
“Yer scaring off all the fish!” Benny complained.
“Oh, this is wonderful!” she cried, filled with memories of hunting tadpoles and sloshing through mud with Colin. “Thank you!”
Benny frowned at her. “For what?”
“For bringing me here. For talking to me.” Laughing, she spun about, then cried out in surprise as she slipped on a smooth river rock and tumbled. Gallant Benny leapt to his feet and tried to catch her, only to land flat on his back, half in and out of the water, with her atop him.
Unable to help it, Amelia laughed out loud, and once she started, she couldn’t seem to stop.
“My sire always said the Quality was daft,” he muttered.
Amelia was in the process of pushing herself up when scuffed boots came into view and she was ignobly hauled up by the scruff of her flowered gown.
“What in bloody hell are you doing?” Colin growled, glaring down at her.
Her laughter choked into silence, her eyes wide at the vision before her. Colin was dark haired, dark skinned, and dark eyed with a big-boned build that made her mouth dry. Gypsy blood, her last governess had said.
When had he grown so tall? He towered over her, his hair falling over his brow as he stared down at her so intensely she squirmed. There was nothing boyish about him, not with that chiseled jaw and knowing eyes. What had happened to the friend she had once loved?
Sadly, she realized he was gone forever.
Her head fell forward in an effort to hide her grief over the loss. “I was enjoying myself,” she said softly.
A long moment passed when she could feel his gaze boring into the crown of her head. Then a low, agitated sound rumbled in his throat.
“Stay away from her,” he bit out to Benny, who had pushed up to a seated position at their feet.
Colin grabbed her elbow and pulled her away, catching up her boots and stockings as he passed them.
“Stop it.” Amelia struggled, her feet crunching on dead leaves. Without missing a beat, he tossed her over his shoulder and strode into the trees like a conquering warrior.
“Put me down!” she cried, mortified, the cascade of her hair pouring over her face to nearly drag along the forest floor.
But he ignored her, carrying her into a tiny clearing before he set her down and dropped her belongings.
She swallowed hard and lifted her chin. “I am not a child! I can make my own decisions.”
His gaze narrowed and he crossed his arms, revealing the powerful muscles he built with hard labor. Dressed in breeches and sweater, he looked rough and ready for anything. His appearance intensified the strange feelings she’d begun having for him, flutters that started in her lower belly and radiated outward.
“I suggest one of those decisions involve wearing your hair up,” he said coldly. “You are too old to wear it down any longer.”
“I will do what I please.”
A muscle in his jaw ticked. “Not when what pleases you is cavorting with the likes of him.” He gestured behind him.
She gave a harsh, derisive little laugh. “Who do you think you are to order me about? You are a servant. My father is a peer of the realm.”
He inhaled harshly. “You don’t have to remind me. Put your shoes on.”
“No.” Crossing her arms beneath her recently acquired breasts, she arched a brow and hoped she looked haughty.
“Don’t push me, Amelia.” His gaze dropped, and he made an edgy sound. “Put your damn shoes on.”
“Oh, go away!” she cried, tossing up her hands, thoroughly sick of the new Colin and slowly giving up hope for the old one. “What are you doing out here? I was having fun for the first time in ages, and you had to come along and ruin it.”
“You were gone longer than usual,” he accused gruffly. “Someone had to fetch you and keep you out of mischief.”
“How would you know how long I was gone? The only time you notice me is when you’re surly and wish to vent on someone.” She tried to tap her foot, but the gesture lost impact when done with bare feet. “And I hardly call making friends an undesirable activity.”
“You don’t wish to befriend those of his ilk.”
“I wish to befriend someone! I have no one since you grew to hate me.”
The line of Colin’s lips tightened, then he ran both hands through his thick hair and groaned. She was jealous of his hands, wanting to feel those glossy strands slipping through her own fingers.
“Stay away from the men,” he ordered, in a tone that brooked no argument. She was preparing to argue anyway when he walked right past her and headed toward the manse.
Amelia stuck her tongue out at his broad back and struggled with the ache in her chest. He talked to no one else like he did to her, so curt and nasty. It hurt, and it fueled her dreams of running away and leaving him behind.
As she sank to the ground and retrieved her stockings, she lamented her existence. But soon she would go to London for her presentation to the court. Then she would wed and forget about Colin.
Her jaw tightened. “I will forget about you, Colin Mitchell. I
will
.”
Chapter 11
W
hen Maria woke, Christopher was gone. She lay there a moment, staring up at the canopy, attempting to make sense of their mutable association. He was waiting. Waiting for her to admit some connection to the agency that he could use. She had no notion if her admission of love for Dayton would alter his thinking. Of course, she had loved her first spouse like a favored uncle and he had looked fondly upon her as one would a favorite niece, but she thought it best to mislead the pirate on that point.
Why?
she’d asked simply when the Earl of Dayton had paid Welton a small fortune to have her.
My Mathilda is gone,
he answered just as simply, his kind eyes filled with pain.
I have since found little to live for. Assisting you will give me a purpose.
They wed and retired to the country, where he used his considerable knowledge of subterfuge and combat skills to train her. Most days they were up at dawn, and the sunlit hours were occupied in physical pursuits such as fencing and marksmanship. The evening hours were spent discussing topics such as cryptology and ways to hire men of dubious skill sets. There was nothing he left to chance, knowing she would do whatever was necessary to reclaim Amelia.
“How are you feeling this morn?” Simon asked as he stepped into her room. He was dressed for riding, in breeches and polished Hessians. His windswept hair and the scent of horseflesh told her that he was returning, rather than leaving. “Did you sleep well?”
She considered that question a moment, pushing fond memories of Dayton aside. “I did,” she noted with some wonder. Last night was the first occasion since seeing Amelia that she had managed to sleep without bad dreams. It was due to Christopher, she knew. The man was prepared for anything, and that made her feel safe. Odd, considering how dangerous he was.
“I went to Bernadette’s last night and spoke with Daphne.” He helped her sit up and arranged her on the pillows. “It appears we’ve had a stroke of luck. He had a favorite, a new girl named Beth. Apparently, she had a disliking for some of his carnal proclivities, so he has begun to spend more time with Daphne, whose tastes are more diverse.”
Maria smiled. “I am in need of good luck.”
“Truer words were never spoken.” He studied her carefully. “You look different this morning.”
“Better, I hope.”
“Much.” His smile was breathtaking. “I will order tea and breakfast for you.”
“Thank you, Simon.” She watched him as he walked away. “Eddington will come to call today,” she called after him.
“I haven’t forgotten,” he tossed over his shoulder.
Alone again, she considered her predicament. There had to be a way to delay all of them—Christopher, Welton, and Eddington. Her brain was still sleep fuzzy, but given the proper amount of time and clear thought, she knew there had to be a way to position the three men to assist her. They all had something she wanted, and if she was clever, she could see her ends met.
With this in mind, Maria spent the morning lost in thought, absentmindedly completing the steps required to prepare herself for Eddington’s visit. She dressed carefully in a cream-colored day gown and settled a fichu over her shoulders to disguise her bandages. By the time the earl was announced, she had settled upon a temporary plan. She felt confident enough in her idea to have him shown into her lower parlor rather than her study, where she usually conducted business.
“Good morning to you, my lord,” she said with exaggerated civility.
“My lady.” He bowed. Dressed in fawn-colored breeches and a dark green jacket, he cut quite a dashing figure. Every inch the lauded rakehell, he winked at her before settling in the pale blue settee on the other side of the low table.
“Tea?” she inquired.
“Yes, thank you.”
She was deliberately casual and unaffected in her preparation of the beverage, her hands moving with deliberate gracefulness. Twice she glanced aside at him with a secretive smile. The returning indulgent curve to his lips told her he knew her game, but still wished to play.
“You are a vision this morning,” he murmured as he accepted the cup and saucer from her.
“I know.”
Eddington laughed, his handsome features softening from their usual predatory alertness. He hid it well with his heavy-lidded gaze, but she knew his kind.
“A joy to meet a woman without artifice,” he said.
“I took pains to appeal to you, my lord. I would not live up to my reputation if I failed to know when I was most attractive.”
“Do you wish to bed me, then?” Both brows raised. “Insatiability is also something I admire.”
Maria laughed. “I’ve quite enough men in my life at the moment, thank you. Still, women’s wiles are a powerful tool, yes?”
His voice lowered. “Especially when they are wielded by a woman as seductive as you.”
“I’ve reached a decision regarding your proposal,” she said, her tone clipped to signal the end of their banter and the beginning of business.
The earl smiled against the rim of his cup. “Excellent.”
“It will cost you more than the removal of Welton and the agency from my life.”
“Oh?” His gaze narrowed.
“Much more,” she warned.
“How much more?” he demanded gruffly.
She waved her hand carelessly and smiled. “I refuse to discuss monetary matters with anyone other than my solicitor. I find it quite vulgar and oftentimes unpleasant. I will give you his direction and you can settle my accounts with him.”
Eddington set his cup down with undue care. “Coin?” He blew out his breath. He was an intelligent man. He knew she would be expensive. “Perhaps I do not think St. John is worth that much.”
“You have one witness, if he is even still alive. If not, you have nothing. Except for me.”
“You will testify against him?” Eddington asked, his alertness intensifying.
She nodded.
“What about the deaths of Dayton and Winter?”
“What about them?”
“You are the prime suspect.”
Maria smiled. “Perhaps I did murder them, my lord. Perhaps not. I give you leave to prove it, one way or the other.”
“How can I know if you are trustworthy or not?”
“There is no way to know that. Just as I cannot know whether this is merely an elaborate ruse designed to implicate me in the deaths of my husbands.” She shrugged. “You said I was a risk you were willing to take. If you’ve changed your mind, you may leave.”
He considered her for a long moment. “I cannot tell whether you are a demon disguised as a temptress, or a victim of those around you.”
“I ask myself the same every day, my lord. I suspect I am a little of both.” She rose to her feet, forcing him to rise as well. “If you find the answer with any certainty, please let me know.”
The earl rounded the table and came to a halt before her. He stood close, too close. He meant to intimidate her with his greater height and physical strength, but she wasn’t cowed. In their association, she held the power. He had nothing without her. Only conjecture, with no way to penetrate St. John’s defenses.
“Tread lightly,” Eddington warned, his voice low and filled with danger. “I leave Town this evening and will be gone a fortnight, but I will know what you do.”
“Of course.”
A few moments after the earl departed, Maria rose and moved to her study, where she penned a missive to Welton and sent it off. A knock came to the open study door, and she smiled as Simon entered.
“You look like a cat with cream,” he said.
“I have convinced Eddington to fund my search for Amelia.”
He arched a dark brow. “You told him?”
“No.” She grinned.
Walking toward her, Simon sank into one of the two chairs before the large desk. “Eddington wants the same information as Welton. Who do you intend to share it with?”
She blew out her breath. “I haven’t yet decided. If I tell Eddington, he might help me with Welton and then I could find Amelia. But Christopher would hang.”
“
Christopher,
is it?” he asked tightly.
“If I tell Welton,” she continued as if he had said nothing,
“he will attempt to extort either St. John or whoever else may have been involved. I would be no further ahead than I am now, but St. John would live. Of course, St. John might then dispatch Welton and save himself the annoyance. Having become somewhat acquainted with the pirate, I can say for certain that Welton has overstepped himself this time.”
“Or you could tell St. John about Welton and Eddington in return for help with finding Amelia,” Simon suggested. She knew how much it cost him to say such a thing, to admit that St. John could help her in a way that he himself had been unable to. It was a testament of his affection for her that he would set aside his masculine pride to see her happy.
“I thought of that.” Maria stood and went to him, cupping his face in her hands and kissing his forehead in gratitude. “But until I know the reason why he was released and what role he intends for me to play, I cannot trust him.”
Simon tugged her gently into his lap. “So what will we do now?”
“I have sent for Welton. I intend to tell him that I am retreating on holiday. I need to heal, and it’s time to make inquiries outside of London. We have the funds to expand our search. Truly the best course for us would be to find Amelia before I have to make a decision. Having her in my possession will change everything.”
He nodded. “I will see to the necessary preparations.”
“How long has this been going on?” Christopher asked curtly.
“A few weeks,” Philip replied, pushing up his spectacles.
“I learned of the situation this afternoon and promptly brought it to your attention.”
Leaning his hip against his study desk, Christopher crossed his arms and inhaled deeply before replying. “Why wasn’t I told about this immediately?”
“The lander felt that he could handle the matter.”
“When a rival gang encroaches on my territory,
I
will handle it. By God, you give them an inch and they will take the entire length of the shore.”
A knock came to the door and Christopher bade them to enter. When he saw his valet, he said, “We leave in a few hours and will be gone for a fortnight at least.”
“Yes, sir.” The servant bowed and retreated.
“May I accompany you?” Philip asked. He stood a few feet away, his stance tall and proud as Christopher had taught him when he was a boy.
Christopher shook his head. “Gang wars are bloody and not for spectators. Your skill lies with the brain in your skull, not with your sword arm. I will not risk you merely to satisfy your curiosity.”
“You are far cleverer than I, and your loss would be felt more keenly. Why risk yourself when you have men who could see to the matter with similar results?”
“They cannot see to it.” Christopher straightened and retrieved his coat from where it hung over the back of a chair. “This is not simply about prime coastal space. This is about me and mine. They want both. Until I confront them, they will not back down. Why do you think my enemies haven’t shot me dead? Unless they best me face-to-face, they cannot truly take the reins. Their power would always be in question.”
“Damned if that isn’t primitive,” Philip muttered.
Snorting, Christopher shrugged into his coat. “Humans are animals, after all.”
“Do you ever contemplate leaving this life?” the young man asked, his head canted to the side. “You’ve coin aplenty.”
Christopher paused and stared at his protégé. “What would I do with myself?”
“Marry. Raise a family.”
“Never.” He fluffed the lace at his neck and wrists. “The only way out of this livelihood is death. If it wasn’t me they were after, it would be those closest to me. If your end aim is to be a family man, move along now, young Philip. The deeper entrenched you become, the further away that goal will be.”
Philip followed him out to the foyer. “Where are you going now?”
“I must bid Lady Winter farewell.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, they struck Christopher wrong. Always in times like this he acknowledged the possibility of his demise. He had safeguards in place to protect the members of his household, which allowed him to leap into the fray with the gusto of a man who accepted death. Now, however, he found himself hesitant, less willing to make the journey to hell. He wanted to see Maria again, to feel her beneath him arching in pleasure, to hear her throaty laughter as she teased him. He wanted her to prick his temper as only she could until he was hard as a rock and hot to ride her all night.
Damn it, base as it was, he wanted to fuck her again and the craving was such that he wished to live long enough to manage to task. A harsh bark of laughter escaped him as he collected his hat and gloves from his butler and left his house. Primitive animals, indeed.