She was only halfway down and he was shaking. Stopping, confused, she lifted her face from his shoulder. “Are you all right?”
“Oh, God, stop moving.”
She froze, horrified. Was she hurting him? Doing it wrong? His arms were corded strength along her sides. He still held her bottom as his head dropped into her hair. She felt his heavy breaths, heard him moan.
“So good,” he said into her hair. “I want to last long enough for you to enjoy this, too.”
One of his hands left her bottom and found a place just above where they were joined. He began to stroke her there. Just a few times, and she had to move against his hand. The acute pleasure, the scent of their bodies mingled together, it all made her head swim. The movement of her hips fueled the fire between them.
“Now,” he moaned, and pulled her down, seating himself completely in her depths. She thought she’d taken all of him before, but she’d been wrong. He showed her how to move against him, to slide along him as he thrust upward. Soon, they were both crying out, then shuddering together as they found bliss.
He lifted his feet onto the bed, then lowered himself onto his back, helping her relax against his chest, still inside her. She had quivers from the aftershocks of their passion and her mind felt utterly, blissfully blank. When the first prickles of chill hit her exposed back, he pulled a blanket over her. His fingers stroking through her hair were paradise.
“We cannot go on like this. We have to be wed, Matilda.”
“Mmm.” She rubbed her nose against the soft spot under his shoulder blade.
“What if you conceive a child?”
“I don’t want to talk about children. It’s too painful.”
“Why? Did something go wrong with Jacob’s birth? Will you have trouble with another birth?” He struggled up slightly, and her body lost its grip on his softening penis. It slid out of her, bringing a rush of moisture in its wake.
“No, I just don’t want to think of Jacob right now. He’s frightened, alone, maybe cold and hungry, while I’m safe in your arms.”
“You need comfort, too.”
“I don’t deserve it while my child is in danger.”
“We’ve done everything we could, sweet girl. Everything.”
“I can’t agree with you. If we’d done everything, he’d be home now.”
He slid his hands up and down her back. “We can disagree on that. I know what a devoted mother you are. You didn’t deserve this and you are not at fault.”
“I could have stayed in my parents’ home in Sussex. Lived quietly, cared for my child. Instead, I was restless, and my father taught me the business. He didn’t even encourage me. I was as hotheaded as always, insisted on it.”
“You are good at your work. There is no shame in that.”
“I’m an unnatural woman,” she insisted.
He stroked down her back again and cupped her bottom in both hands. “Not from my vantage point. You are an entirely natural woman, with a good mind and a stout heart. Who else was going to run the business?”
“Greggory,” she said. “Once Gawain didn’t want it, my father would have trained Greggory.”
“But he’s not your father’s son.”
“No, but he is my grandfather’s grandson, and the first factory was founded by him, John Redcake.”
“I see. Does this other branch of the family resent you?”
“Not at all. My Uncle Arthur is a painter, and was happy to be bought out by my father so he could pursue his art. Greggory is his oldest son, and he’s more interested in his fiancée than the business. For now, at least.”
“Then you are what the family needs. Don’t feel unnatural for that. Every family is different.”
“What will ours be like?”
“Are you going to marry me now, for sure?”
She nodded, rubbing her face against him. “How could I say no to this? But everything has to end well, Ewan, or I will be completely broken.”
“It will, darling. Now rest for a little while, and then I shall embrace you again, before we get you home.”
“I’d like to sleep in this little bed.” She yawned.
“No, that would be a scandal. I shall take you home, then call on you quite properly in the morning for our return to Bristol.”
“I should go now. What if we receive a call from Bristol this afternoon?”
“You know there won’t be any news. Not on a Saturday evening. It became obvious on Thursday that this kidnapping scheme is complex. They will act carefully.”
“Do you really think Jacob will have been moved?”
“I think the place they took you to was carefully chosen for complete anonymity. I don’t know that we’ll ever find it, so he might very well still be there. You have an unusually good sense of geography. I’m amazed that we came as close as we did.”
“I could have been wrong.”
“I don’t think so, not with the warehouse so close by. It will be their undoing, if anything is.”
“I hope you are right.”
Ewan tipped her sideways, and she found herself flush against his body on her side. He bent his head to hers, giving her a gentle kiss on the lips. “Relax, rest a little. I shall trouble you again, madam, when I am restored.”
“How long does that take?” she asked, curious.
“I don’t know. I am an old man of twenty-seven now, and you are my first lover of the year.”
“And the last, I hope.” She poked him in the side.
“The last forever, I hope.” He mimicked her. “No, Matilda, if your face is the last I ever see, on that final morning of my life, I shall count myself a lucky man. And never think to stray from you, as so many men do.”
“We can take comfort in each other.” She whispered this, feeling vulnerable.
“With a family as strong willed as yours, we shall have to promise to always put one another first. Otherwise one or another of your relatives will run roughshod over us, as we have already seen.”
“I know it, Ewan; I do know it. But you are going to be an earl, and power will start coming more naturally to you. For now, it is a little hard to see yourself as more than a secretary. I feel that myself, having gone from a younger, pampered daughter to a woman of business. I do not have much in the way of role models. Alys is one for me, somewhat, but she is so involved in the marquess’s estates and her own reproducing. I’d honestly never thought I would marry or think of having another child.”
“She still owns the tea shop.”
“I don’t think she’ll ever sell it, nor do I think Lady Judah will stop dabbling in cake decorating, but neither of them do more than dip into their interests. They have too much else to do. Whereas I left far more of the child rearing to staff.” She swallowed hard. “And paid the price for it.”
“Most women of your class have nannies,” he said. “You did nothing unusual, and I will not allow you to feel you’ve done anything wrong. I am proud of you for doing something constructive with your time, instead of spending endless hours in society meetings or embroidery, like so many do.”
“Some of it is worthwhile,” she said. “You do not really know very many women like me. Our lives are more useful than you might expect. We aren’t entirely decorative.”
“I’m sure you are right. I have a great deal to learn.”
“We both do. We must promise to never argue at bedtime, so we can wake up happy with each other.”
“Agreed.” He kissed her head. “And now, as for the rest, I do believe I am quite restored.”
She giggled, feeling his manhood nudge her meaningfully. It had grown again, and she was eager to put Ewan through his paces before he deemed it time for her to leave for St. James’s Square.
After church services the next morning, Ewan presented himself at St. James’s Square. He hadn’t listened to the vicar at all, too busy castigating himself for agreeing to an engagement he couldn’t sensibly keep. How could he want something so dangerous to Jacob’s well-being? The earl did not see Matilda as the future countess, and he would lose his restored position if he announced their intention to wed.
He was convinced a connection existed between that warehouse and Jacob. They would be back in Bristol that evening. Tomorrow, he would confront Albert Pigge again and get to the bottom of this.
He heard a flurry of slippered feet when Pounds ushered him into a cheery back parlor looking over the garden. Matilda crashed into him, wrapping her arms around his waist.
“I missed you last night. How I wanted to wake up in your arms,” she said, squeezing him close.
“It makes me very happy to hear that,” Ewan said, stroking her hair. “I look forward to waking up that way every morning.”
“I don’t want to wait. Let’s have the banns called right away. I have to believe that we’ll find Jacob over the next week. Something is going to change, I can just feel it.”
“Yes, it has to,” he agreed, hoping that event wouldn’t be finding the child’s little body. But the Redcakes had handed off money once before without proof the boy was alive. They would do it again, even if it beggared them in the process, as long as any hope existed.
“At my family’s church, then, in Bristol? We could be married in May. I’ll make all the arrangements; you won’t have to do anything but arrive on time.”
“I wish I could agree,” he said, as gently as he knew how.
There was a moment’s pause, then Matilda released his waist and stepped back. “What do you mean? Not May?”
“May might be fine, but we must find Jacob before we even announce our engagement.”
“Why? As you said, I could be expecting already, and that isn’t suitable for an earl’s heir. You need to secure the succession.”
He closed his eyes for a moment. He hadn’t thought of that. “Of course you are right, but Lord Fitzwalter will terminate me again when he finds out I’m to marry you. You’ve forgotten all about the special license. We can be married any time. No need to call banns.”
“So we find Jacob, marry, and then the earl will wipe you from his businesses again.”
“Correct, but meanwhile, I’ll have access to the properties. I mean to search the warehouse, every inch of it.”
She swallowed. “I see what you mean, but Ewan, if there is any hint that I’m increasing—anything at all—we must deal with that for the future’s sake. Oh, dear, I really am the most inappropriate bride for you.”
“I can live with that because I do not want to live without you. Do you know how many years I longed for you to so much as notice me?”
“No, I didn’t know you then. I’m not even sure when you saw me first.”
“It was in 1884. Right when Redcake’s opened in London and I came to work for your father. You and all your sisters were at the staff party to celebrate a successful first week.”
“You found me attractive? I’m so like Alys, and Rose is so much more beautiful.”
“It was a long time after that before I saw you again, but I never forgot you.”
“I was such a romantic when I was younger,” she said reflectively. “If you had wooed me, I wonder what might have happened.”
“You are still a romantic.” He smiled at her. “You simply take more persuading than you used to.”
“I cannot comprehend that Mr. Bliven has died,” she said. “I’m sure my mood has something to do with that. Oh, Ewan, life is so terribly short.”
“We will make the most of it,” he promised. “It will be fun to have a delicious secret for a few days.”
“It will be much more delicious if you sneak into my bed at night.” Not that he would dare.
He chuckled. “No possibility of that. Your father is sleeping in the house. I am not romantic enough to risk my life.”
Chapter Fifteen
“M
r. Hales, this is entirely irregular,” Mr. Pigge protested from behind his oversize desk in the Douglas warehouse office on Monday morning. “To the best of my knowledge, you have no position in your uncle’s business interests.”
“That is a lie,” Ewan declared. He stood from the low visitor’s chair to give himself more authority. “I know you received a telephone call this morning. I spoke to the solicitor, Mr. Norwich, myself.”
“Well,” Pigge said, snorting and wiping his nose with a handkerchief. “Well.”
“I do not care to employ a liar,” Ewan said in measured tones.
“Please, Mr. Hales, you understand I must be cautious, with you in and out of favor with the earl in such a manner.”
“Mr. Norwich is the earl’s particular mouthpiece. It is not for you to have an opinion on my relationship with my uncle. Be assured I am the authority of this enterprise.”
“How am I to know who Mr. Norwich is? Most communications come to me through Corwin Vare in London. These telephones leave me quite flustered.” He wiped his forehead.
“Perhaps you would do better in Vermont,” Ewan said. “Although I would prefer to have a trustworthy man in a position so remote.”
“Come now, sir,” Pigge said, standing as well.
Ewan stared at the man. Matilda had recommended he stand during the interview, when he’d shared how Pigge’s desk and chair seemed to be on a dais compared to the visitor’s seating. How would she unlock the reason behind Pigge’s choice to stand? Was he trying to assert authority over Ewan, who was undeniably his senior and the heir to the earl besides?
He could not waste more time. He did not want this man following him around the warehouse. Five handpicked men were waiting at a pub down the street, ready to search the warehouse for Jacob. “Please return to your home, Mr. Pigge. I will consider the conditions of your future employment further, but I cannot tolerate looking at you and that ghastly nose hair one more moment today.”
Pigge puffed his cheeks until he looked like a balloon about to pop. “I am outraged, sir!”
“I do not care. We will both have the rest of the day to consider our tempers. Do I need to call a constable?”
“Of course not.” Pigge put his hand to his waistcoat and marched out, leaving his overcoat behind.
“Good riddance,” Ewan muttered. He hadn’t liked the man’s attitude toward Matilda anyway. He rustled through the man’s desk for five minutes, looking for financial records, a list of employees, anything that might be of use. Finding nothing of value, he stepped into the outer office, told the astonished secretary that he was not to allow Pigge into the office for the rest of the day, and went to the pub to gather Matilda’s men.
The warehouse was a long dirty rectangle a couple of blocks from the river. When Ewan came back with the men, he assigned them each about 20 percent of the cavernous space to search and took the offices for himself.
“We don’t know anything about where he’s being kept, only where he was on the one night,” he told them. “Don’t be flashy about your search. Tell the employees that you are here to learn the operation. Maybe someone will let something slip. But if you see any evidence of a child—clothes or anything—come find me.”
Given the time of year, it seemed the warehouse was stocking barley and wheat seed, as well as peas and beans for the spring planting. Rows of feed sacks stretched the length of the warehouse.
When the first man returned to him, having completed his task, Ewan sent him to search the property outside, looking for outbuildings. Then he returned to the offices, searching for any documents that might relate to Jacob. Despite Pigge’s clear knowledge of the kidnapping, he and the men found nothing. Had he retaken control of Douglas Industries for nothing?
Eventually, he telephoned Matilda’s house.
“Have you found anything?” she asked, hope in her voice.
“Nothing. I’m so sorry.”
“I didn’t really think he was there. I think they are keeping him where they took me.”
Privately, Ewan had his doubts. Why make it easy for them to find the boy? “We are so close to where you were taken, though.”
“There might be a connection through the men who work there. A wife is keeping him, something like that.”
An excellent notion. “We need to interview the men here. That is an excellent point.”
“Will you come for dinner?” Her voice broke, then strengthened again. “It has been a long day for you.”
He didn’t know if he would have the chance to hold her, but even seeing her would be enough. “I would like that very much, thank you.”
“I will need to return to London tomorrow, I’m afraid.”
“Why?”
“I know it is ridiculous, but I’m going to help with Mr. Bliven. Gawain is coming with me to pay for a cemetery plot. What if Jacob wants to be buried near his father someday? I need to choose somewhere nice.”
“Why would Jacob want that?”
This time he heard an actual sob. “I’m never going to tell him the real story. It’s going to be a romantic one, about a man who went away to sea, never knowing the truth.” She sniffed.
“Oh, Matilda. If you must, you must.” Gawain must think it was a good idea if he was going along. He would go as well. They’d have more freedom in London. “I will see you soon.”
As the warehouse shift ended, he gathered his five men together.
The tallest man spoke first. “Nothing out of the ordinary here that I can see. They bring in beans down the river, transport them here in wagons, then repackage to individual farms.”
“Some flour moving through,” another reported. “They supply bakeries in Bath from here.”
“Just barley and oats, barley and oats,” said a third, in a sing-song voice.
“No outbuildings at all,” said Barker, the man sent to look outside. “It’s a small operation.”
“I found nothing in the offices, no correspondence that seemed telling,” Ewan said with a sigh.
The last man spoke. “I thought a couple of the men in my section were shifty-eyed, if you know what I mean. They kept an eye on me and the other men. Don’t know if they are involved, or just doing something like stealing.”
“Tomorrow we need to interview everyone who works here. See if anyone will tattle on another’s wife or someone like that, watching a child. Miss Redcake reminded me that she seems to have been brought very near here to see her child.”
“You think whoever has him has a connection to the warehouse?” the tall man asked.
“It makes sense. Once we learn something from the interviews, we can have a private inquiry agent follow the most suspicious men and see if it leads us anywhere.” Ewan rubbed his aching scalp. Had he been tugging at his hair all day?
“Has the family heard anything more about the kidnappers?”
“I’m afraid not,” Ewan reported. “A great pity.”
The five men shook their heads. “We’ll be here tomorrow. Do you want us to talk to the men casual-like, or do you want us to haul them, one by one, into an office?”
“I’m not sure. What do you think?”
“We don’t want to scare them off,” said Barker.
“Very well. Each of you take the men in your area aside, one by one. Tell them the new director wants a private word to discuss safety issues. Learn about the families and especially find out where they live. I’m going to send Barker here around the neighborhood with the list of addresses I’ve received from the foremen.”
“What you want me to do with it, guv?”
“You remember the other search? A brick row house with a fence, same description? That’s what we’re looking for. You find it, take the omnibus to the Redcake home, and find Sir Bartley. But make sure there aren’t five of them exactly the same first.”
“Don’t want to raise the family’s hope, like,” Barker said.
“Exactly. They’ve been through enough. Today was the day we expected things to change and it hasn’t happened. Tomorrow needs to be that day.”
The men nodded.
“I will not be able to be here tomorrow. I have to be in London. But I will have Greggory come by at the end of the shift so you can keep us informed. Hopefully, they won’t recognize him as a Redcake. Anything else?”
“We need to return to our own jobs,” the tallest man said. “How long do you expect us to be here?”
“Just through tomorrow, I hope. If you can talk to all the men, we’re done here. We already know Jacob isn’t about.”
“Poor little mite.” The speaker stopped and hummed. “Wish we could have found him for Miss Redcake.”
“For his own sake,” Barker said. “Let’s get home to our own families, and hug our wee ones tight.”
Ewan nodded and led them out the door as the night watchman entered.
Ewan followed the Redcakes into dinner that evening, feeling underdressed. He hadn’t thought Matilda kept a very formal home, but now he saw evidence to the contrary. His suit, perfectly fine for work, had obvious dust stains, and a streak of white paint had embedded itself into the fabric atop his right knee. Dougal Alexander, on the other hand, lean and dark-haired, had dressed appropriately for his first night in Bristol.
Thankfully, though, Matilda’s mother was no stickler. She gave him her usual kind, vague smile as her gaze passed over him.
“That’s a very fine mural,” he said as he held out her chair so she could seat herself at the dining table.
“I painted it myself. Arthur helped me with some of the bigger shapes. He had promise,” she said.
“He was named for my father,” Greggory said from across the table. “He is a painter as well.”
“Your father introduced me to Sir Bartley,” Lady Redcake said. “We met when we were both painting the Avon Gorge. That was long ago, before the railway was built.”
“I didn’t know that, Mother,” Matilda said, then thanked Mrs. Miller as she poured wine.
“I thought your father’s name was Charles,” Ewan said to Greggory.
“No, it’s Arthur,” Lady Redcake said, holding up her glass. “Though he likes to style himself
A. Charles
. Artistic temperament, you know. Such a pretty yellow, isn’t it?”
“Yes indeed.” Ewan smiled. “Tell me, what is the mural meant to represent?”
“The grounding of the steam tug
Black Eagle
,” Lady Redcake said. “In the gorge. It’s not easy to navigate through.”
If Ewan squinted, he could almost make sense of that: the shape of the gorge, the small tugboat puffing steam in the middle. She’d painted it in abstract fashion, with a bird’s-eye view. Matilda’s mind ran along far more concrete lines than her mother’s.
“I’ve been waiting patiently to hear what happened at the warehouse today,” Sir Bartley boomed. “Obviously nothing of import.”
“No, sir,” Ewan confirmed. “But we haven’t ruled out some kind of participation from an employee’s family. We’re going to interview everyone tomorrow, and I hope we can get a look at the homes of those who live near the warehouse.”
“An excellent notion,” Dougal Alexander said from his seat. “I’ll come with ye tomorrow and search the area.”
“I had hoped Mr. Hales would come to London with Gawain and me tomorrow,” Matilda said. “He’d be such a comfort to me.”
“He’s needed here to interview the men.”
“That will be done by the Redcake’s factory foremen who are assisting.”
“I can manage well enough without him,” Dougal told Sir Bartley. “Even if another ransom note comes tomorrow, they’ll have tae give ye a day or more tae collect the funds. If they go across tae London for just a day, they will not miss much.”
Sir Bartley’s eyes narrowed. “When has Mr. Hales become such a comfort to you, daughter?”
Gawain coughed as his swallow of wine went down the wrong way. His wife patted him on the back, serene in the face of his distress.
“I shall come as well,” Gawain’s wife said. “It is time I visit my own little one.”
Sir Bartley’s expression didn’t change. “I asked you a question, Matilda.”
Ewan cleared his throat, and as the Redcakes’ gazes turned to him, he stood, lifting his wineglass to shoulder height. “I hope you will congratulate us. Miss Redcake has agreed to become my wife.”
Matilda knocked over her wine. Her mother’s eyes went wide. Gawain chuckled, and Dougal Alexander’s sharp investigator’s gaze went to each of the family in turn, assessing.
“I-I thought we had agreed,” Matilda said, in a much breathier voice than usual. She didn’t finish her thought as her mother leaned over her and patted her hand.
Ewan felt like the
Black Eagle
, foundering in a twisty river. “I am sorry, I merely meant to explain your remark. It would be an honor to be of comfort to you either way of course.”
“Will this engagement not cost you your position with Lord Fitzwalter yet again?” Gawain said.
“Not if we keep the information within the confines of this house,” Ewan said, more sharply than he meant. “We’ll see this dastardly business through to the end, and not marry before that. I’ll do what I must, as we all have.”
Gawain nodded. “This does not, of course, come as a surprise, but you are not much of a love wallah, are you?”
His wife shook her head ruefully. “He’s doing his best, my dear. Such a difficult time, with poor Mr. Bliven dying in such a fashion, and Jacob missing. But love will out in the end. It always does.”
“A short engagement?” Sir Bartley mused.
“It depends on so many factors,” Ewan told him.
“It is best to share happy news, even in hard times,” Lady Redcake said. “Life must go on. I imagine Jacob will be so excited to have a new addition to his little family.”
Matilda’s eyes went wide, which clued Ewan in to the import of her mother’s words. Did Lady Redcake think Matilda was expecting his child?
Across the table, Gawain openly grinned. His wife had a secretive female expression on her face. Ewan couldn’t speak in his defense, given that they were lovers, though of such a short duration it would hardly matter if they wed soon.