Wait Until Midnight

by Amanda Quick

  “Adam?”

  “I shouldn’t have come here tonight. I should have gone straight home.”

  “No, it is all right.” She cleared her throat. “We have embarked on an affair. You have every right to be here.”

  “Do I?” He captured her face between his hands. “Do I really have every right to be here with you alone like this? Tell me the truth, Caroline.”

  “Y-yes.” She swallowed, unsure of his mood. “We are lovers now.”

  “Lovers.” He repeated the word as though he was not certain of its meaning. “Yes, I am most certainly your lover.”

  He kissed her again. This time when he raised his head, she could scarcely catch her breath.

  “Adam, you really should not exert yourself in this manner,” she managed. “Not after the ordeal you went through this evening.”

  “I want you.”

  She stopped breathing altogether.

  “Here?” she finally got out. “Now?”

  “Here. Now.”

  She moistened her lips. “Oh.”

  “You say that we are lovers.” He eased aside the collar of her dressing gown and kissed the curve of her shoulder. “That is what lovers do. They make love.”

  She stared at the bookshelves on the wall behind his head. “In . . . in a study?”

  “Anywhere that is convenient.” He unfastened the first button of the dressing gown. “Lovers must take advantage of every opportunity.”

  “Yes, I suppose that is true, isn’t it?” she said, struck by that observation. “But what if someone were to walk in on us?”

  “We will worry about that if the problem arises. Kiss me, Caroline.”

  She put her arms tentatively around his neck, fearful of hurting him.

  “I said, kiss me,” he whispered roughly against her mouth.

  The raw, masculine scent of his recent battle was still on him. She could feel the unnatural energy riding him.

  She kissed him gently, seeking to replace the lingering aura of violence with love.

  He opened the front of her robe with quick, ruthless movements. The next thing she knew, his hands were around her waist, lifting her.

  She expected him to lower her onto the carpet. It seemed the only suitable location in the room. Instead, she found herself seated on the edge of the desk.

  When he parted her knees and moved between her thighs, she was too startled to protest. The next thing she knew, his hands were on her, probing, stroking, making her wet and desperate.

  There was a strange, fierce tension in him tonight but there was also control. She would always be safe with him, no matter how wild the passion that flowed between them.

  It was a heady, glorious feeling.

  He freed himself from his trousers. She encircled the length of him with her hands, familiarizing herself with the intriguing size and shape of him.

  “You astonish me,” she whispered, dazed.

  His laughter was low and exciting. Then he did things to her with his fingers, truly astonishing things.

  Everything within her tightened to an unbearable degree; tightened until she could not stand it any longer. Her fingers sank into his shoulders.

  “Adam.”

  Without warning the compelling tension within her dissolved in a series of powerful, rippling pulsations that filled her with a near-violent pleasure.

  Before she could even begin to recover, Adam curved his hands around her buttocks and thrust heavily into her.

  His own release crashed through him. She heard him choke back an exultant groan and knew another kind of delight in the realization that he had found such satisfaction in her arms. It was no doubt quite petty of her but she hoped with all her heart that he would never be able to entirely duplicate the experience with any other woman.

  She clung to him, her thighs clamped snugly around him until the world returned to normal.

  An eternity later, Adam roused himself with obvious reluctance and went about the business of putting his clothing to rights.

  “I must be off,” he said, glancing at the clock. “Your aunts will be home soon and I am in no condition to greet them.”

  “Promise me that you will summon a cab. I do not want you walking all the way back to your house.”

  He grinned, put his hands around her waist, lifted her off the desk and set her on her feet.

  “I assure you, after that delightful tonic, I am feeling quite invigorated.”

  “But what if those two men try to attack you again?”

  “I do not think I will see them anytime soon.” He kissed her lightly on the tip of her nose and reached for his shirt. “Good night, my sweet. I will call upon you tomorrow.”

  She was startled by the change in his mood. It was indeed as if he had taken some potent tonic or elixir. Was it possible that making love could have such a therapeutic effect on a man?

  Adam was already striding toward the door. She hurried after him.

  “You will be careful,” she pleaded.

  “Certainly,” he said.

  He spoke much too casually for her taste. But there was little she could do. She trailed after him and saw him out onto the street.

  When he was gone she closed the door and leaned back against it, clutching the knob in both hands.

  Men, she reflected, were an odd lot.

  After a while she went back into the study and sat down at the desk. She reviewed what she had written prior to Adam’s arrival and was more unsatisfied with the lines than ever. Somehow, she simply could not allow Edmund Drake to lose control over his passions to the extent that he would harm Miss Lydia; not even if he believed that she had betrayed him.

  Only a brute or a madman is allowed that excuse.

  Then she recalled what he had said when she had bound his ribs with Emma’s salve.

  I trust that your aunt does not use arnica in her salve?

  And her own response: No. If it enters the body . . . the effect is quite poisonous.

  Poison.

  If Edmund Drake had been poisoned, he might well act out of character.

  She picked up her pen, crossed out several paragraphs and wrote new ones.

  “Edmund, you must listen to me,” Lydia pleaded. “You are not yourself, sir. I believe you may have been poisoned.”

  Edmund went still, sanity and intelligence returning slowly to his fevered gaze. “Poisoned? But how is that possible?”

  “The cakes,” she said, glancing at the tea tray on the table. “This dark mood came upon you after you ate one of them a short while ago.”

  “Devil take it, you are right.” Edmund shook his head, as though ridding himself of some mist clouding his brain. “Something is wrong. I do not feel at all well.” He got to his feet and looked down at her with mounting horror. “What have I done? Forgive me, Miss Lydia. I would never harm you.”

  “I know.” She sat up, hastily adjusting her skirts. “There has been a great misunderstanding. I can explain everything.”

  Much better, Caroline thought.

  But she could no longer deny the obvious. Edmund Drake was rapidly becoming hero material. That left her with a serious problem. She had to find another villain and quickly. There were only a few chapters left to write before the story ended.

  THIRTY-TWO

  Shortly after eleven o’clock the following evening, Adam slipped out of the noisy, crowded ballroom. He went quickly along a servants’ hall, taking a short cut through the big house to his library.

  The music and the dull roar of voices faded slowly behind him. Julia had another resounding success on her hands, he thought. The fountains all worked, there had been no leaks and the ruins were extraordinarily realistic in their final form. The Roman villa theme would no doubt be imitated by every aspiring hostess in town.

  But the most satisfactory aspect of the evening as far as he was concerned was Caroline. She glowed in an elegantly draped garnet red gown. Tiny gold flowers glittered in her upswept hair.

  It a
mused him that she had been an immediate success, not because of her connection to his powerful family but because of her status as the author of The Mysterious Gentleman. A crowd had gathered around her the moment she entered the ballroom. It seemed that nearly everyone present wanted to know what dire fate she had in store for Edmund Drake.

  He opened the door of the library and walked into the room.

  “I got your message, Harold.”

  Harold Filby stopped his nervous pacing and spun around. Behind the lenses of his spectacles his eyes were uncharacteristically troubled.

  “I am sorry to interrupt your evening, sir, but I got back to London a short time ago and came here immediately. I thought you should hear my news at once.”

  “Do not concern yourself with the interruption.” Adam closed the library door and crossed the carpet. “I assure you, no one will miss me. Mrs. Fordyce is the main attraction in the ballroom tonight.”

  “I say.” Harold peered at him more closely. “What happened to your eye, sir? Were you in an accident?”

  “It is a complicated tale. I will give it to you later.”

  Harold cleared his throat. “Yes, well, I’m afraid the information I have for you concerns Mrs. Fordyce. After I received your telegram, I set off for the village of Chillingham. It was not easy but I finally managed to discover the details of the scandal in which she was involved.”

  “Do you know, what with all that has been going on, I almost forgot that I had sent you off to investigate.” Adam leaned back against the edge of his desk and crossed his arms. “Well? What did you learn?”

  “I regret to say that the events in question were not of an innocuous nature. We are talking about attempted murder, a madwoman, suicide, implications of an illicit love affair and a lady’s reputation.”

  A chill tightened Adam’s insides. “Trust Mrs. Fordyce not to do anything by half measures.”

  “There are a number of alarming facts but the most important one at the moment is that there was a gentleman involved.”

  “I assumed as much, given the general nature of scandals.”

  “No doubt. The rather disturbing bit is that the gentleman’s name is Ivybridge.”

  Adam went still. “I am acquainted with the man.”

  “Indeed, sir. But the more pressing matter is that he and his wife are in town at the moment. They are well-connected socially. Need I remind you that everyone who is anyone in Society is on Lady Southwood’s guest list this evening?”

  “Damn.” Adam straightened and made for the door. “Ivybridge may be out there in the ballroom at this very moment. I’ve got to find Caroline before he does.”

  Do not panic, Caroline thought. He didn’t see you.

  She hurried through a pair of French doors at the far end of the ballroom and escaped onto a small stone terrace. There was no one around. In the shadows at the far end she saw some artistically arrayed chunks of false stone veiled by a swath of blue velvet. The faint sound of gurgling water could be heard coming from behind a curtain tied back with a golden sash.

  The drapery marked one of several such private retreats that Julia had provided for her guests. They were scattered about the lantern-lit gardens and tucked away on side terraces such as this one. The secluded spaces had been designed for the use of couples or small groups desiring to escape the noise and activity of the brilliantly lit ballroom.

  As Caroline had hoped, this particular bower had gone unnoticed here on this remote little terrace.

  She ducked behind the swath of blue velvet drapery and found herself in a miniature replica of a Roman garden. A carved wooden bench and a small fountain decorated the setting.

  She collapsed onto the bench and allowed herself to breathe again. She was safe for the moment. Luckily she had spotted Ivybridge just as he walked into the ballroom with his wife. He had no reason to search for her in the crowd, she reminded herself. Even if he heard people discussing the fact that Mrs. Fordyce, the author, was present tonight, he could not possibly connect the name to her. She had invented her pen name after the events in Chillingham.

  Emma and Milly had vanished into the card room an hour ago. She would have to find a way to alert them to Ivybridge’s presence so that they could all slip away from the ball before he accidentally happened across any of them.

  As an afterthought, she untied the gold sash to release the blue velvet curtain. The drapery closed, concealing her completely. If anyone chanced to discover this little retreat, they would assume that it was occupied and go elsewhere.

  She forced herself to concentrate. What she needed now was a plan. She must send a message to Emma and Milly via one of the footmen, instructing them to sneak out through a side door. Then she would have to get word to Adam informing him that she had been forced to leave the ball early. She would explain everything to him tomorrow.

  Footsteps rang softly on the terrace, interrupting her thoughts. Alarmed, she tried not to move or breathe. Had Ivybridge noticed her and followed her?

  “I trust you are not so worn out from dancing that you are unable to waltz with me, Mrs. Fordyce.” Adam pulled aside the blue velvet drapery. He was smiling slightly but his eyes were unreadable in the dim light. “I realize that you are much in demand this evening, but we are very good friends, after all.”

  “Adam.” Relief mingled with the anxiety that was making her pulse race. She leaped to her feet. “Thank goodness you are here. There is a disastrous scandal brewing.”

  “Another one? They are mounting up so rapidly, I confess I am in danger of losing track of all of them.”

  “This one will cause all of the others to pale into insignificance. You must trust me when I tell you that it is imperative that I find Emma and Milly at once. The three of us must arrange to leave this house as secretly as possible.”

  “It sounds as though another startling incident has occurred.” He shook his head a little, bemused. “I vow, my life has become a sensation novel since meeting you.”

  “This is no occasion for humor, sir, I assure you.” She realized that in her agitation, she was waving her folded fan in a haphazard manner. Embarrassed, she forced herself to still her movements. “I should have told you the entire story before now but we have been so occupied with murder and mediums and such that I never got around to the details of the disaster in Chillingham.”

  “No, I don’t believe you did.”

  “It was quite dreadful, Adam. Truly. And a certain person who was the cause of it all is here in this very house. I just saw him. If he happens to see me or my aunts, the scandal in which we are presently involved will become a thousand times worse.”

  “We are discussing Ivybridge, I assume?”

  She froze. “You know about Ivybridge?”

  “I am not in possession of the full particulars of the situation, but I am aware that he was the gentleman who ruined your reputation when you were known as Miss Connor.”

  “Good heavens. This is amazing. How on earth did you learn that?”

  “It wasn’t easy, especially given the fact that you deliberately misled me with the mention of Bath.”

  Guilt assailed her. “Oh, yes, I forgot about that part. I beg your pardon, but at the time I did not want to risk providing you with too many clues in the event that you were not entirely, uh—”

  “Not entirely to be trusted?”

  She flushed. “I did not know you very well a few days ago, and I had to be cautious.”

  “I understand.” He inclined his head. “One cannot be too careful when one is attempting to conceal the past. I have had some experience with that sort of thing myself, if you will recall.”

  “Yes, of course. I was just concocting a scheme that would allow my aunts and me to sneak out of the house. Given your own expertise in such matters, you could be of great assistance.”

  “What did you have in mind?”

  “I was thinking in terms of departing through the servants’ hall.”

  “How odd. I was thin
king in terms of a waltz.”

  She glared. “Have you been drinking heavily tonight, Adam?”

  “Not yet. But given the manner in which events are progressing, I would not be surprised to find myself resorting to some restoratives before the night is over.”

  “I fail to comprehend why you insist upon making light of this extremely serious situation. I promise you, if Emma, Milly and I do not manage to escape without being seen by Ivybridge, you and your family will be embroiled in a scandal far worse than anything that you can imagine.”

  He unfolded his arms and touched his fingertips to her lips, silencing her.

  “First, we waltz,” he said.

  He took her arm and drew her out of the imitation Roman garden.

  “Adam, wait, you do not seem to comprehend—”

  “If you continue to glare at me like that, everyone will believe that we are quarreling,” he said, guiding her back into the ballroom. “Think of the gossip that would cause.”

  Mesmerized with dread, she offered no further resistance. She had done what she could, she told herself. She had tried to warn him. His fate was now in his own hands.

  When they reached the dance floor, she felt Adam’s arm, strong and sure, go around her waist. The next thing she knew she was gliding across the room in time to the intoxicating strains of a waltz.

  It should have been a dream, she thought. The setting was so very romantic. Adam was disturbingly sensual and dangerously intriguing in his formal black-and-white evening wear. He radiated an aura of masculine power and control that made her intensely conscious of her own femininity.

  But in reality it was all a nightmare. Heads were turning everywhere in the room. People had noticed that the mysterious Mr. Hardesty had taken the floor with his very good friend, the author. It was only a matter of time before Ivybridge spotted her.

  When the confrontation occurred, it happened so swiftly and with such military precision that Caroline knew Adam had planned it right down to the last detail.

  He swept her to a halt directly in front of a startled Ivybridge. The latter stared openmouthed at Caroline as though a spirit had materialized before him.