He had not surrendered his need to speak with Jasper, it would seem. That was just as well, because she needed to speak to Jasper about Lord Derby’s conduct. She feared for Pen and for the ladies in their employ.
“We will go together,” she agreed, though she knew Jasper would be outraged when he discovered Gavin had been in the public rooms.
Facing her brother alone just now felt too daunting, and Gavin wore the expression of a man who would not be swayed.
“Together.” The smile Gavin bestowed upon her made her heart ache. “I like the sound of that.”
So did she.
Far, far too much.
But she did not say that, because she was going to revel in every moment she could still pretend Gavin Winter was hers.
He was beginning to dislike Jasper Sutton.
He was also beginning to dislike the guards at The Sinner’s Palace, one of whom was currently planted before the door to Sutton’s office and pinning him with a stern glare.
“We need to speak with Miss Sutton’s brother,” he repeated. “Hell, not necessarily even this one. Any of them. Someone needs to know what happened tonight.”
The guard looked distinctly unimpressed. “What ’appened?”
He scowled. “That is none of your affair. Bloody hell, man, will Sutton not make time for his own sister?”
“Aye. When ’e finishes with the lady visitor.”
A growl tore from him, and the desire to ram his fist into someone’s nose, which had been simmering beneath the surface of his tensions from the moment he had seen that despicable lord with Caro in his lap, rose to a crescendo. “Do you mean to tell me Sutton is in there bedding a ladybird when his own sister was being abused in the public rooms?”
Caro laid a staying hand on his arm, but the fires of his fury had ignited once more.
The guard shrugged, giving him an insolent grin. “Not my concern what Sutton does in ’is office or who with.”
“We can return later,” Caro offered.
“No,” he countered, still eying the smirking guard. “We won’t. We will wait.”
The guard remained where he was, apparently finding the situation amusing. “As you like.”
“My brother is…” Caro paused as she sought the proper words. “He can become distracted by feminine companionship.”
He was not the only one suffering from such a malady. But he had a feeling his distraction was one hell of a lot more innocent than Jasper Sutton’s.
“He deserves a cuff to the head,” he told her, meaning every word and intending to deliver upon the threat, too. “On your behalf. He is meant to be protecting you, and he is not doing his duty.”
“Someone would have found me,” she said quietly, in the same tone of voice she had used when he had been an invalid, out of his mind with fever, and she had attempted to calm him.
Soothing, dulcet tones. They had lulled him into tranquility before, but he would not be swayed now. This was too damned important. She was too important.
“And what if no one had?” he demanded, outraged on her behalf. “What if I had not attempted to hear you sing? What if that bastard had hurt you, Caro? I’ll not stand by and allow this to happen to you again.”
A stern rap sounded from the inside of the door, followed by a series of knocks in an unusual pattern. The guard’s shoulders straightened. “Sutton’s finished ’is business now.”
Business? Is that what he called bedding women whilst his innocent sister was almost being defiled by vain, arrogant lordlings? More outrage surged, doubling the overwhelming quantity already within him.
He was seething with fury. Mayhap instead of a cuff to the ear, he would slam his fist into Sutton’s nose. There was no sound quite like that of a man’s beak breaking. He had broken a nose before. He knew it. And suddenly, a hazy, indistinct memory returned to him. A ginger-haired man, facing him with fists raised. He threw a punch and the man’s nose gushed with blood.
But as quickly and unexpectedly as the memory returned, it dissipated, leaving only nothingness in its wake.
“Is something amiss?” Caro hissed at his side.
His entire body was tense, and it was not entirely from outrage. With a jolt, he returned to the present, looking down at her upturned face. There was so much concern and tenderness in her countenance.
His butterfly.
“A memory returned to me just now,” he told her. “At least, that is what I think it was.”
Often, it was deuced difficult to determine dream from memory, or to know whether or not these tiny splinters that arrived in his mind were recollections of his life or they were the fancies of his addled mind. Fortunately, he felt quite sharp in his knowledge box these days.
Her brow furrowed, her hazel eyes searching his. “What manner of memory?”
Violence. Always violence. What the hell did that mean? And what did that make him? Christ. Who else but a criminal would nearly cock up his toes in an alley behind an East End gaming hell?
Before he could answer her, the door to Jasper Sutton’s office opened, stealing his attention. The guard stepped aside, and a dark-haired woman dressed in an elegant gown swept over the threshold.
There was no mistaking the swelling of her mouth or the redness on her pale skin, which had undoubtedly been caused by Jasper Sutton’s whiskers. His irritation soared once more. The hell of it was, the lady did not look at all as he had expected a ladybird would. Her gown was modest and well-fashioned of fine fabric, with spangles adorning it and silver embroidery. There were jewels at her throat, and kid gloves covered her hands.
Sutton sauntered over the threshold next, his gaze fixed upon the lady who was fleeing his lair. The bastard looked smug, in stark contrast to the lady’s bashfulness.
“Lady Octavia,” he said to her, and she stilled, glancing back.
What the hell was unfolding here? Jasper Sutton had been locked away in his office, kissing a lady?
The lady in question halted and pivoted to face Sutton. “Yes, Mr. Sutton?”
“I did not agree to aid you in this madcap plan of yours.”
A small smile crept over the lady’s countenance. “You will, sir.”
Sutton’s eyes narrowed. “I won’t.”
“If you will not help me, I will find another who shall,” the woman countered calmly. “But now, the hour does grow late, and I fear my sister will go fretting over me. I must go.”
“My lady,” Sutton called when she would have gone, staying her once more.
“Mr. Sutton, I have already told you that I must go,” she said, her voice firm and almost scolding.
“See that one of my guards follows you home,” Sutton said, then turned to the guard who stood to the side of his office door. “Hugh, make certain to follow my guest. I’ll not have any harm coming to her.”
Lady Octavia rolled her eyes heavenward. “Sutton, I told you, I do not need your protection. I travel about London as I wish, and no harm has ever befallen me.”
Sutton glared. “It won’t start on my watch.”
“As you wish.” The lady shrugged. “I shall see you tomorrow.”
“I’ll not be here,” Sutton growled.
She ignored him and moved down the corridor with the commanding elegance of a queen, the guard—Hugh—following in her wake.
At last, Sutton turned his attention away from the woman he had been kissing and Lord knew what else in his office. “What do you want? Caro, where is your wig, and why the hell is so much of your bosom hanging out of your bloody gown?”
Fine time for the bastard to take note of his sister.
He stepped forward, intent upon setting the matter straight. “You are forcing your sisters to dress like ladybirds and sing for your patrons whilst you are playing at tossing up petticoats. Do you know that one of those bleeding lords was intent upon forcing himself on Caro this evening? She is goddamned lucky I came upon her when I did.”
Sutton went ashen, his gaze flitting to his si
ster. “Caro? What the devil? Who did it? I’ll have the bastard banished from the hell.”
“It was Viscount Derby,” Caro said. “Have you had complaints about him from others?”
Sutton’s lip curled. “This will be the last complaint I receive about him. That’s a promise. But as for you, patient, what the hell were you doing in the public rooms? I’ve warned you not to cause trouble.”
“I would apologize but I’m not sorry I was there to help Caro. She won’t be singing for the entertainment of your patrons any longer, either.”
Sutton’s eyes narrowed as he regarded him, stroking his jaw. “You’re a bold one ain’t you, patient?”
The name irked him. He wanted to know who he was, damn it.
“I’m a protective one,” he corrected grimly. “Someone has to look after her. You and your siblings had thrown her to the wolves.”
“Timothy was on duty tonight,” Sutton said, addressing Caro once more. “Did you not see him?”
Caro shook her head. “One of the patrons accused another of cheating, and he’d gone to investigate. He hadn’t returned.”
“Curse it.” Sutton rubbed his jaw some more. “I’ll speak with him, and I’ll add guards to the floor.”
“Damned right you will,” he said, still furious over what could have happened to Caro and what she’d had to endure.
Sutton’s look turned speculative. “And what’re you doing chasing after my sister, patient? Didn’t I warn you to keep your distance?”
He raised a brow. “You can be glad I didn’t listen.”
A sharp laugh tore from the other man. “Christ. I’m starting to like you.”
He supposed that was a compliment, but with a man like Jasper Sutton, one could never be sure. Then again, with a missing memory, one couldn’t be sure of anything at all.
Chapter 9
Caro’s hands trembled as she awaited Gavin. She had performed every task she could as she counted the minutes until he would arrive at her room. Industriousness had distracted her as she took down her hair and brushed it, as she stepped out of her scandalous gown and tight stays, and as she slipped into a far more comfortable night rail with a dressing gown atop the entire affair. She had tidied the books on the bedside table. Had paced the carpet at least three dozen times. Had studied her reflection in the looking glass and draped all her hair over her left shoulder, then her right shoulder, and then she had heaved a sigh and sent it all cascading down her back.
Now, she was back to pacing the length of the chamber once more, wondering when he would arrive. And wondering whether or not she would go mad before he would appear. They had parted ways after their meeting with Jasper, and her heart was still overwhelmed with the manner in which he had championed her.
Her warrior had faced Lord Derby, and he had also faced Jasper. Not many men would have been brave enough to do so. How she admired him. He was kind and true and good, Gavin Winter. Her love for him was growing stronger by the day, and she knew without a doubt she would need to speak with Jasper in the morning, regardless of what happened between herself and Gavin tonight.
He deserved to know the truth, and she could no longer bear the burden of keeping it from him. Her promise to Jasper would have to be broken. Her love for Gavin came first.
A gentle tap sounded on the door, and she went racing across her chamber, stopping and passing a quick hand over her riotous hair before she opened the door. He smiled when he saw her, and God’s teeth, he was handsome when he smiled.
She rose on her toes and cast a furtive glance down the hall behind him to make certain no one was about. “Come in,” she whispered.
His grin deepened as he crossed the threshold, the door closing at his back. “Why are we whispering?”
She chuckled at his question, which had been asked in a soft undertone. “I do not know. No doubt you think me silly, fretting over you being here.”
“I took great care, Caro. No one will know save us, but if you want me to go, I will.”
“No!” The vehemence of her response took the both of them by surprise, if his countenance was any indication.
He winked. Oh, he was a charmer and a rogue.
How she loved him.
“I’ll stay then, as long as you haven’t forgotten your promise?”
She had told him she would sing for him. A sudden rush of shyness hit her as she shook her head. “I have not forgotten. However, I do hope I won’t hurt your ears.”
“Never. The sound of your voice is the loveliest thing I have ever heard.” His eyes took on a glint as they swept over her.
She wondered if she should have donned another gown instead of the robe and night rail she wore. While modest, the combination was far more intimate than one of her work gowns would have been. She thrust the worry from her mind, for it was too late to change her dress. He was here, just where she wanted him, and that mattered more than anything else.
“Come and have a seat,” she said. “You ought to be comfortable, at least, if you must listen to me warble.”
Gamely, Gavin allowed her to take his good hand in hers and guide him to the chair positioned before her looking glass.
“As you wish it, but there is no must about listening to you sing. It is what I desire more than anything else. Well, it is what I desire that I can actually have this evening.” He dutifully sat.
She stood before him, those words of his tucking into her heart and sending heat blossoming between her thighs. A wicked urge bloomed.
You can have me, too, she wanted to say.
But that would be far too bold, and she had no wish for him to think her too common or forward. She wanted to impress him tonight. Because it may very well be the last they would share together after she confessed the truth to him on the morrow.
“I’ve never sung for a man like this before,” she admitted.
She had sung for her family in the past and for the patrons of The Sinner’s Palace. She had not sung for Philip, and never for a man whom she loved. Gavin was the only one. She knew with an aching, devastating certainty that he always would be.
The smile he gave her was tender. “I am honored to be the first treated to such a performance.”
She took a deep, fortifying breath, and felt a quiver of trepidation roll through her. Could she sing to him thus? It was such an intimate act. When she sang before the patrons, she often settled her gaze upon the wall or the ceiling; sometimes, she closed her eyes. But with Gavin, there was nowhere else she wanted to look.
All she wanted to see was him, to forever imprint the memory of this night, and the way he was gazing at her with undisguised adoration, upon her mind.
Holding his stare, she began to sing the lyrics of Dibdin’s The Soldier’s Adieu. “Adieu, adieu my only life. My honor calls me from thee…” The nervousness subsided, her confidence growing as she warmed to the haunting melody and words. “When on the wings of thy dear love to heaven above…” And as she reached the final chorus, she softened her voice, allowing the sadness of the ditty to cloak her heart. “…shall call a guardian angel down to watch me in the battle.”
Gavin rose to his feet and took her in his arms at once. “My God, Caro, that was even more beautiful than I supposed. You’ve the voice of an angel.”
She linked her arms around his neck, breathing in the familiar scent of him, shaving soap and musky man. He was so warm, so vibrant, so strong. It was difficult indeed to reconcile the Gavin Winter in her arms to the beast of a man who was England’s most renowned prizefighter. He was such a gentle man, so tender and sweet.
What would happen when he regained his memory? Would he take up prizefighting once more? Would he hate her for keeping the truth from him?
She hoped not.
“I do not have the voice of an angel, but I thank you for saying so,” she told him, trying to keep her own sorrows at bay.
“You are unhappy,” he observed, frowning down at her. “Why? Was it the song? Are you thinking of what happened
earlier?”
It was a combination of everything, she supposed, but the most pressing matter of all was the secret she withheld. The more time they spent together, the greater the betrayal she committed.
She bit her lip, tamping down those emotions. She would worry about the truth tomorrow. Tonight, she wanted to give him the truest part of herself, the part which she had never given another.
“I am not unhappy,” she denied. “It is the song, I think. The thought of soldiers going off to war, never to return. So many good men have been lost to battle.”
“I wonder…” His brow furrowed and he paused, his words trailing off. “Perhaps I was a soldier, and that is why I am plagued by these memories of violence.”
Tell him, Caro.
Tell him now.
But she was selfish, and she could not find the words that would undoubtedly end them. “Your memories will return to you soon,” she said with a certainty she did not possess.
In truth, her knowledge of such cases as his was severely limited. She had been poring over the few medical treatises she had been able to find, and the truth was, Gavin may never regain his memory on his own. But others who knew him could help him in trying to spur the memories.
Likely, he needed that now, while the wound to his head was still relatively fresh. All the more reason to tell him.
“Even if they do not return,” he said softly, his palms gliding up and down the small of her back and drawing her body flusher to his, “I do not need them. All I need is you.”
How she hoped he would feel the same after he discovered what she had done.
“I need you too,” she told him, meaning those words. “Will you stay here with me tonight?”
“Caro,” he growled, then lowered his head to press his forehead to hers. “You ask too much of me. I cannot stay in this room with you without making love to you.”
“Good, because that is what I want.”
He tensed. “We aren’t yet wed.”
We may never be.
The reminder was like ice being dumped on all the warmth burning to life within her.
“I do not care,” she returned. “That will come in time. Please. I need you. After everything that happened today, I want to forget. I want to be wrapped in your arms and your strength, and I want to know you.”
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