Authors: Tiffany Clare
His lips were unforgiving as they parted hers so his tongue could swirl around her
mouth, giving her an unfamiliar feeling to which she was so far from adverse to that
a soft moan passed her lips, only to be swallowed up by his hungry growl.
She felt so hot, so desirous and needy, that she panted against him, her breathing
coming in great rushes through the parting of their lips. Her hands curled into the
lapels of his jacket and she tasted him back. She let her tongue search as his did.
Let her body feel the weight of him crushed against her.
“You tempt me beyond all reason,” he said against her forehead before kissing it.
“Let us leave here before you find yourself strapped to my bed.”
Her eyes widened at the suggestion, which he seemed to find humorous, for he chuckled
as he eased off her and pulled her from the desk. He tipped up her chin to look at
her full on. “Not so experienced as you think. I plan to teach you a lot, Amelia.”
What this man did to her and made her feel was so foreign, yet it felt so right.
“Am I to replace Victoria?” she asked. “Be your mistress in name, even if she wasn’t?”
“There is no denying that you will be mine, but you are your own woman. I will not
label you, other than to introduce you as my secretary. Our trust in each other needs
to be absolute if we are to work well together.”
She turned her gaze to the dark library. “What makes you so certain you can have the
best of both worlds?”
“Because I always get what I want.”
A
s they entered the dining hall at the South Langtry Hotel, Nick couldn’t help the
possessiveness he felt over Amelia. Discreetly, he placed his hand at the base of
her back and led her through the maze of tables as the maître d’hôtel showed them
to their seats. Discreet, though, could be used subjectively, as anyone and everyone
could see that he had a new lady at his side this evening. And tonight the world would
know that Amelia was his alone.
As they approached the table, Nick realized they were the last to arrive; they had
been delayed in his study, but it had been the traffic stalling the carriage ride
that had made them late. Not that arriving last was a cause for concern; tonight was
casual and spent, for the most part, among friends.
There was a familiar face in the crowd Nick hadn’t expected to see. Her ostrich feather
was perched high among a fall of blonde curls, and her dress was a damask that gave
her the effect of being swathed in gold. Nick merely raised one eyebrow as he stared
in Victoria’s direction. She gave him a mischievous smile as she tipped her champagne
against her lips.
Victoria sat between Hart and Meredith. Meredith he’d known for a short time, as she’d
married his friend Landon last fall.
Landon had once been a business rival until they had sat down and strategically come
up with a plan for bidding on properties to each of their preferences instead of outbidding
and inflating the value of said properties every time they had cross dealings.
Sitting beside Landon was Lord Murray. Not a friend by any estimation but someone
who owned the latest plot of land that Nick wanted to buy, just north of London. The
land wrapped around some of his and Landon’s other properties. Murray was a known
gambler with luck that should caution his daring but instead made his estate a prime
target for those more capable in managing it.
Heddie Burton, the woman next to Murray, was a well-known actress and dancer for a
number of shows around town. She was as sought after for her beauty as she was for
her brains. Nick thought her no more than a perfectly trained courtesan. She took
on paramours like she did productions, changing them frequently when bored with them
or when they ran out of money to spend on her; he couldn’t tell which. She’d been
with Murray for three months now, and this was her second dinner at the hotel with
them.
“Sorry to have kept you waiting,” Nick said.
“Not at all, old chap,” said Hart as he and the other men at the table stood to acknowledge
Amelia.
“For those who haven’t been introduced to my new secretary,” Nick said, “let me present
Miss Amelia Grant.”
Amelia bowed delicately, like a lady might do when introduced to a room of possible
suitors. Nick hated the thought of that as much as he hated to share their evening
with everyone present at the table.
They all gave their introductions as he pulled out the chair next to the actress for
Amelia, who was currently extending her hand to those she didn’t yet know. She asked
Hart and Lord Burley how they had been since they had last met. A perfect conversationalist.
While rounds were made, Victoria remained in her seat, ever the voyeur in any situation.
Nick didn’t fail to notice the furrow creasing her brow.
“Victoria,” Nick said by way of greeting.
“Nick,” she replied, though her response came at a moment of silence and had everyone
looking between them.
“Miss Grant,” Nick said, “This is Victoria Newgate.”
“A pleasure,” Amelia said with a dip of her head.
“Shall we start with the first course?” Hart motioned for the bowls of soup to be
set out on the table by the restaurant’s staff. It was a cream of asparagus, not Nick’s
favorite but Amelia seemed to enjoy it.
While Nick sat next to Hart, he spent most of the first course listening to Amelia
and Heddie discuss the newest plays to see in town, and he occasionally added a bit
when he could say he’d seen something. Overall, his new secretary seemed to keep Murray’s
guest entertained and unfocused on the conversation Lord Burley was having, of which
Nick was only getting pieces.
When the second course came, white wine was poured for everyone. He could tell Amelia
wasn’t used to eating and drinking in this style, as she finished only half her fish
and drank but a quarter glass of her wine.
By the third course, Nick realized he’d paid little attention to Victoria and Meredith
and had said barely more than a few sentences to Hart, as his attention had been focused
on Amelia.
When Victoria made a point of staring at him, he said, “I didn’t expect to see you
tonight.”
“Hart wouldn’t let me miss dinner.”
“You’re right,” Hart said. “I couldn’t allow it. You wanted to decline at the last
minute when I had no one else to invite.”
Hart had recently broken off with an opera singer he’d been seeing for almost a year.
The separation had been a public mess.
“You must tell me, Miss Grant,” Victoria said, “how is it you took over for Huxley?
I thought that man irreplaceable, Nick being as hard to please as he is.”
“Huxley is still very involved,” Amelia responded. “It will be a miracle if I can
get him to hand over the reins to me.”
“And how has Nick treated you?”
Before Amelia could reply, Nick settled his hand over hers and squeezed it as he pushed
out from the table. “If you will excuse me for a moment.” Lord Burley snickered in
his direction as Nick walked around the table and leaned close enough to speak in
Victoria’s ear. “Take a walk with me, will you?”
“I rather like the company,” she said, laughing a little too gaily.
“In case my tone wasn’t clear, that was me telling you to follow me out.”
Victoria placed her folded napkin beside her bowl as Nick pulled her chair out from
under the table. “If you’ll excuse us a moment,” she said.
Though he wanted nothing more than to have her follow behind him for her rudeness,
he took her arm to keep up appearances as he led her toward a private terrace. The
air was cool, and the night surrounding them was filled with fog.
“Why are you here, Victoria? I thought we agreed to end things amicably.”
“I can’t help that we have the same friends. And I didn’t think
amicable
meant never seeing you again.”
It hadn’t, but she’d thrown him off by being here tonight. Nick crossed his arms over
his chest and leaned against the wall.
“Fine,” she said. “I wanted to see this new secretary of yours that Hart was going
on about. She’s a bit meek for you.”
“Jealousy does not suit you, Victoria. You know better than most that Miss Grant is
filling a role that had grown vacant with Huxley’s expanding role in my businesses.”
Victoria leaned closer to him, her finger tracing a path down the middle of his waistcoat.
“I do not like how things ended so suddenly between us.”
“We both know it wasn’t sudden.” He curled his hand around hers so she wasn’t tempted
to further explore him and gently maneuvered her away from him; not that he was tempted
by her forwardness; he wasn’t, but she needed to understand that their relationship
was over. The only woman he wanted was Amelia.
“I miss your company all the same,” she said, turning away from him to lean against
the iron railing and gaze out over the city. “You’re wasted on someone like Miss Grant.”
“I have never known you to unfairly judge a woman you do not know. She was in a difficult
position before I found her.”
Victoria spun around, one eyebrow quirked. “She is not so hard on her luck as you
would have me believe.”
“While her past might be less complicated than yours, it was just as difficult for
her to escape.”
He knew Amelia was hiding something from her past—the name she’d given him was false.
In fact, she’d done such a fine job of hiding her true identity that he hadn’t yet
figured out just who she was or where she’d come from. He knew she was from Berwick,
and it would be easy enough to inquire about Amelia that way, but he couldn’t, in
the event that she was running from someone she’d left behind.
Victoria stepped closer, stretching one dainty finger toward his chin. “And what if
I am jealous?” she asked, with a pout playing on her red painted lips.
“We did not end our affair so that we could play cat-and-mouse in future.”
“Then stop trying to cut me out of your life.”
That hadn’t been his intention, but Victoria could think what she liked. Amelia was
his only concern. “Miss Grant is complicated,” he admitted.
“Oh, I can see that. You haven’t taken your eyes off her all evening.” He looked at
her sharply, and she spread her hands as though she were blameless. “I’m not the only
one to take notice.”
“I don’t want you taking anything out of context, Victoria. If I start hearing rumors
. . . ”
“Tsk. Darling. You have obviously forgotten the woman I am. Discretion is my middle
name.”
“Perfect. Then I trust you to have a wardrobe prepared for my new secretary. I’m afraid
she has nothing suitable for the meetings she will be required to attend in the coming
weeks.”
Victoria raised her eyebrow. “From which of my shop girls did you order the blush
gown?”
“Darcy.”
“Then I shall ensure that discretion is met and your new
secretary
is appropriately attired.”
Nick nodded his thanks. “Keep your assumptions to yourself.”
“It’s not me you should worry about, Nicky. You men think you’re so devious and sly,
when you are all an open book. Everyone at that table saw your intentions, clear as
day.”
“Then it’s a good thing we’re among friends. I mean it, Victoria. I do not want you
asking about Amelia either.”
“Amelia, is it? Already on a first-name basis? You do move fast, or were you already
hot on her tail before you broke off our arrangement?” She traced one of her painted
nails over his lower lip. “Don’t worry, Nicky. I will keep your secrets. I always
have.”
She had, but if what Victoria said was true—that he’d been obvious in his attention
toward Amelia—he’d have to be more circumspect. If there was one thing Nick had managed
to accomplish, in addition to his wealth, it was an equal measure of enemies. Amelia
was too gentle a soul to ward off some of the uglier parts of his life.
“Everyone certainly must be wondering where we are,” Victoria pointed out.
“Then we should not keep them waiting.”
He vowed to ignore Amelia for the rest of their dinner. If he could convince his friends
that Amelia was only his secretary, then that was what the rest of the world would
believe. Only he needed to know that she was so much more.
A
melia wasn’t sure where Mr. Riley and Miss Newgate had gone off to, but her stomach
flipped at the idea of their needing a moment of privacy. She’d taken one spoonful
of her lemon sorbet before giving up—her appetite was gone, ruined really.
Heddie, her dining companion, proved to be an interesting and entertaining woman.
Perhaps that was natural for someone in her profession. Though Heddie was guarded
about personal details of her life, she did share a number of humorous stories from
her time in theatre.
“There was a time during
Midsummer’s Night Dream
when the stage was large enough to accommodate a horse. Well, that horse found himself
particularly full from all the apples and carrots we fed him off stage. Relieved himself
right in the middle of the show and kicked his foot out. The actor on stage with me
got a horse mud pie right in the face.”
Lord Murray couldn’t seem to contain his mirth, for he laughed and snorted at the
end of her tale. Taking a long swallow of his champagne the wrong way, he sputtered
and coughed enough to draw the eyes of everyone around them in the restaurant. Heddie
gave her companion a few good thumps on the back until he stopped hacking.
While everyone was laughing at the story, Amelia grew sicker to her stomach as the
minutes ticked by and Mr. Riley had yet to return to the table.
“Had I met you before my wife, Heddie, I’d be a man in trouble,” Lord Murray insisted.
“I wouldn’t let you steal me away from the city and all that I love to be sealed up
in that dratted old castle you call a home in Highgate.”
At the mention of Highgate, Amelia snapped to attention. “A castle?” she said inquisitively.
“She exaggerates, Miss Grant. It’s just a drafty old house.”
Did Mr. Riley intend to purchase Lord Murray’s drafty old house? Before she could
ask more about Highgate, Mr. Riley and Miss Newgate entered from the opposite end
of the room.
She was a beautiful woman, shorter than Amelia but voluptuous, and her corseted-waist
was cinched to perfection. Her hair looked like spun gold, and her dress looked like
it had been dipped in the precious metal. It was obvious that Victoria Newgate was
a woman with a great deal of wealth.
Men turned when she walked past them. Mr. Riley seemed entranced by her conversation
and laughed about whatever it was they discussed.
Why should it matter to Amelia how Mr. Riley acted around the other woman? She was
forgetting her position. Something she shouldn’t dare do. She looked away from them
so they wouldn’t see her staring, and she focused on the other guests at the table.
Mr. Riley took his seat, his elbow brushing against Amelia’s as he placed his napkin
in his lap. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said as he took a spoonful of his sorbet.
She didn’t respond, just gave a slight smile as she looked at the woman sitting across
from her. When their eyes met, Victoria gave her a wink and laughed about something
Lady Burley had whispered. Amelia dropped her gaze to her bowl. She was so far out
of her element right now that she just wanted the night to end.
Coffee was served around the table after the last setting was taken away. When Amelia
brought the small white cup to her nose, she was immediately repelled by the strong
smell and set the cup down untouched.
“It’s bitter and perhaps an acquired taste,” Mr. Riley said, sliding the glass tray
of sugar cubes closer to her cup. “This will sweeten it.”
“I’m not sure anything will make that smell pleasant enough to drink,” Amelia said.
Mr. Riley dropped a sugar cube in her cup and stirred it around with a spoon. “Try
it,” he insisted.
She looked at him, forgetting once again that there were other people at the table.
“Can I trust you, Mr. Riley?” She wasn’t asking about the coffee; she was looking
at Miss Newgate across the table.
“Implicitly.”
Placing her lips against the cup, she took a small sip of the liquid and was immediately
repelled by the stringent assault on her tongue. She set it down. “I’m afraid I likely
will not acquire a liking for coffee anytime soon.” She pushed the cup away so she
wouldn’t have to smell it.
Hart chuckled and said, “Before long, you will crave it after dinner. I used to hate
the stuff.”
“Then why did you continue to drink it?” Heddie asked, sipping her own coffee.
“Sometimes coffee was the only decent drink available when I traveled,” Hart said.
“Where did you travel?” Amelia asked, genuinely curious. The idea of traveling had
always fascinated her, but she wasn’t sure how one went about planning a trip.
“Egypt and Morocco, mainly,” Hart said with a shrug, as though everyone traveled to
exotic locations.
“He’s being modest, darling,” Victoria said to Amelia. “Those were only his favorite
places. Hart is a bit of a travel bug. Every few years he practically itches to see
something new and disappears for months at a time. When he remembers he has friends
back home, we receive a letter from some far-off locale.”
Victoria had perfect teeth and a perfect smile. Amelia couldn’t help but compare herself
to this woman who so easily drew Mr. Riley’s attention. Was it possible they were
still lovers, even though the Jenny had said otherwise? She hated that she wanted
to know the answer so badly.
“Well,” Lady Burley said, directing her words to Amelia, “if it’s any consolation,
I have never been outside of Britain.”
Amelia liked Lady Burley very much. Where Victoria had managed to say everything in
a lofty air that seemed like an insult, the other woman merely brushed it off, as
if there was nothing overly spectacular about the exotic locations Hart had visited.
“I used to visit an aunt in Scotland, but I have not been farther north than that,”
Amelia chimed in with a smile. She could say that she’d at least been somewhere else.
“Whereabouts? My mum was Scots,” Heddie said.
“Edinburgh.” Amelia was surprised to have Mr. Riley’s complete attention. He looked
at her as if his knowing something she rarely talked about made a difference to him.
“But my aunt died when I was twelve, and we didn’t have any family left that way,
so I haven’t visited after that. What about you, Mr. Riley? Have you traveled the
world far and wide?”
“Never had a desire to travel. My life and my businesses are all on English soil.”
“Because you haven’t thought of the possibilities elsewhere,” Hart said with laughter
in his voice, as though this was a topic they discussed regularly.
“We are in very different businesses, my friend,” Mr. Riley said with a finality that
ended the conversation.
To Amelia’s surprise, Mr. Riley stood to wish everyone a good night. It seemed they
had another engagement, as did some of the others.
“It was a pleasure to see you again, Miss Grant,” Lord Burley said.
“You and your wife were wonderful company for my first dinner out,” Amelia responded.
When she said good night to Victoria, the woman kissed both her cheeks and then held
Amelia at arm’s length to look at her. Was she assessing her? Looking for flaws? Amelia
felt her cheeks grow warm under the other woman’s regard. “You will keep him in good
order?” Victoria asked.
Amelia opened her mouth to respond, but how was she to reply to that? Her job was,
in a sense, to keep Mr. Riley in order.
“Vic,” Mr. Riley interjected, “always inserting yourself in my affairs. Miss Grant,
you must ignore my friend. She knows how disorganized I can be and cannot tolerate
any sort of chaos.”
“Yes, well . . . ” Victoria started to say, but Mr. Riley kissed her cheek, and he
and Amelia left in the next instant, having concluded their good-byes.
“I feel I should apologize for her forwardness,” Mr. Riley said as he and Amelia made
their way out into the street.
“She seems very brazen. I dare say, I have not met any other woman like her.”
“That almost sounds like a compliment, Miss Grant.”
Mr. Riley hailed a cab and opened the low door for her. She stepped inside and took
a seat on the bench, and Mr. Riley gave direction to the driver before following her
inside.
“Are we not finished with the evening?” she asked. She thought he might drop her off
at the house while he attended to his other engagements.
“Far from, my dear. We’re dressed, so we might as well enjoy a night around the city.”
“Will your friends be joining us?”
He shook his head, that intense gaze of his focused fully on her again. She swallowed
back any further questions. She wouldn’t refuse him the night; this might be her only
opportunity to wander around London and explore the places frequented by men and women
of means.
Before long, the driver pulled up to a two-story brick building with no sign to identify
it.
As Mr. Riley assisted Amelia out of the carriage, he flicked the driver a coin and
said, “Double that and your usual fare for the night if you wait until we are through
here.”
“I will wait right here, good sir,” the driver said.
Mr. Riley took Amelia’s elbow and led her to a small café. It was stuffed to the brim
with patrons, half of them shouting and singing along with the piano player in the
background, the rest gaily milling about.
She wasn’t sure what type of music played but the patrons enjoyed it enough to raise
their ale and sing along in boisterous volume. Some patrons danced on a small section
of the floor that had been cleared for that purpose. Both she and Mr. Riley were jostled
as they made their way to the center of the loud room. When she was pushed into Mr.
Riley’s side, he put his arm around her to shield her from the rowdy crowd and continued
to pull them forward.
“You should use your cane to clear your path if the louts will not move for a lady,”
Mr. Riley said clearly, without having to shout over the noise.
“I couldn’t,” she mumbled, doubting he even heard her.
A polished mahogany bar stood dead center in the room. It curved along the top edge
and bowed out in the middle to accommodate shelving behind. Various bottles of liquor
and wine filled the shelves, as did an array of different glasses. Beveled mirrors
were mounted on the back wall behind the bar, making the room look grander than it
was. Leather-cushioned stools lined along the bar like soldiers standing guard, every
one of them occupied by men and women mingling together. There were large water fountains
at both ends of the bar, filled to the top with ice.
Mr. Riley placed an order and then took Amelia’s hand and led her to a booth with
a round table in the middle; it might have seated four comfortably, but there were
six people seated there. One of the men at the table saw Mr. Riley and motioned for
the others to vacate the booth. No words passed between the men, but the two heavily
painted women gave Amelia a knowing look before the men led them away.
Amelia was fairly certain they were prostitutes, but she didn’t say a word. Instead
of sliding into a seat across from her, Mr. Riley sat next to her, his shoulder so
close to touching hers that she could feel the heat radiating off him. That she wanted
to sink into his warmth in front of a room full of patrons was a thought she’d dissect
much later.
“What is this place?” she asked, though the question sounded better in her head. She
knew it was a tavern, but she’d never been to one, other than the Hound & Hare in
Berwick, and that was a good deal less lively than this place.
“People come here for the atmosphere. You can escape the day and enjoy yourself with
a drink. They also sell the best glass of absinthe this side of London.”
Before she could ask more, a barkeeper approached their table. He held a tray laden
with a glass, a small pitcher of yellowish-green liquid, and a tumbler filled halfway
with what looked like whisky. A smaller fountain of water with ice, like the one on
the edge of the bar, was carried in behind the barkeeper and set on the round table
in front of them.
Mr. Riley nodded his thanks to the man, and they were left alone again.
“Why did you bring me here?” Amelia asked.
“You seemed to be enjoying yourself at Langtry’s, and I thought you would like it
here. Besides, I was not ready to end our night with dinner.”
She didn’t know how to respond to that because she hadn’t wanted their night to end
either. Instead of responding to his candor, she watched him set up the odd-colored
drink.
He filled one glass with the peridot-colored liquid, setting an odd-looking perforated
spoon over the rim and placing a sugar cube in the middle. She knew it was absinthe,
but she’d never before had it or seen it prepared. It was a fascinating process. When
that was done, he set it under the spout of the fountain. The nozzle was loosened
enough to let out only a few drops of water to wet the sugar cube.
Closing off the flow of water, he looked at her as though waiting for her next question.
“Why did you invite me to dinner tonight? I wasn’t needed in the capacity of secretary.”
“Correct, you were not needed in that capacity,” he agreed, but did not elaborate.
“I admit that I wanted to see you lose a little of the reserve you cloak yourself
in whenever we’re together.”
Not all the time
, she thought. There had been too many slip-ups with this man, too many instances
where she’d forgotten who she was, who she was trying to be—what she’d been trying
to escape.
How she wished her father were still alive. Her whole life would be different. The
things that had happened . . . the things her brother had done since their father’s
passing . . .
She closed her eyes for only a moment, and Mr. Riley twisted the nozzle again to release
the water until it was more than a drip. When she opened her eyes again, she saw him
focused on the drink he was preparing. She stared at him for a moment, fascinated
by the firm set of his jaw, the crow’s feet at the corner of his eyes, and his overall
bearing. He was a man who stood out.