Somewhere, something nudged the words in his brain, trying to dislodge them or tell him something. Some reason why he should not kiss her perhaps, but he could not fathom that reason. Maybe it was because his ankle was screaming in pain or because his head pounded, and his lip burned.
Either way, it could not prevent him from drawing her between his legs, her on her knees, and he dropping his mouth to hers. Her intake of breath made every moment of pain worth it. The sweet taste of her near numbed his discomfort. Who needed cold steaks and salve when he could have Orelia?
She gripped his tattered shirt sleeves and he tilted his head to taste her deeper. Her kisses were growing bolder of late but then was she not growing bolder in general? Trying to reassure his mother? Threatening to come and rescue him? It seemed to him he had but only a sample of the real Orelia and every moment he spent with her, the more he learned. And the more he liked her.
The truth of it was, he had missed her. He’d been gone one night, and he’d missed her.
What the devil was wrong with him?
His mind shut down when her tongue touched his. Nothing was wrong with him. Nothing was wrong with her. This was perfect.
“Your G—”
They bolted apart. He masked a groan. Orelia grabbed a cloth and began furiously dabbing at the graze on his jaw making him hiss. He lifted his gaze to the serving girl and forced a polite smile.
“Yes?”
“Forgive me, Your Grace.” The girl’s gaze skipped everywhere but on him. Soon enough all the servants would know he had been kissing a gypsy girl. Still, they had probably had a fair amount of gossip about her as it was, considering she was wearing his mother’s old clothes and staying in a guest bedroom.
“There is an express messenger here for you, Your Grace. From London.”
“I see. Thank you. I shall be up presently.”
The serving girl scurried away, and Reed eased himself up from the chair. Orelia remained on the floor, staring at the cloth in her hand.
“Well, are you to stay there all day?”
She grimaced. “Maybe. I would quite like to hide at present.”
“Won’t do you much good there,” he said with a smile. “The servants will be returning to prepare for dinner before long.”
“Then perhaps I should hide in my bedroom.”
He offered her a hand and she took it, standing to face him. Her cheeks were flushed with the most adorable pink color.
“You realize my servants are discreet and shall tell no one.”
“Who could they tell that I should care about? But I am not sure I like the idea of them discussing me.”
“The moment you stepped foot in the house, you were discussed, Orelia. I’m sorry I cannot protect you from that but be assured, Mrs. Corley will keep them in line.”
She gave a reluctant smile. “Yes, I’m sure she will.”
“I had better find out what this message is. Come, help me hobble upstairs.”
“I hope you heal quickly. We have more work to do.”
“Oh I’m grateful you are so concerned for me,” he said dryly.
“Of course I’m concerned for you.” She gave his arm a light tap as they slowly took the stairs up to the main hallway. “But I do hope we can finish our investigations soon.”
Reed tried not to feel like she had just stabbed him in the heart. It was not at all like him to feel melancholy, particularly about a woman. He had been fond of many women in his life, but none had been able to make him quite feel like his heart had been twisted and tugged inside his body.
Until Orelia.
“Well, in spite of what occurred, you shall be pleased to know I did actually make progress.”
“Oh, that is good news.” She took his arm to help stabilize him on his painful ankle and they strolled through to the entrance hall.
“I shall tell all shortly.”
The messenger awaited him in the hallway, looking red and harried. He took the letter and tore it open. He’d recognized the seal immediately—one that not many would. “Damn,” he murmured as he read the scrawled writing. “Wait a moment,” he told the messenger. “I’ll have a reply for you.”
The young man nodded, and Reed moved through to the library, Orelia following close behind.
“What is it, Reed?”
He pulled out a sheet of paper and tugged the lid off the ink pot. “It was from the offices in London. There’s been another attempt on Napoleon.”
“Goodness.”
He scrawled a quick note, assuring his superiors he was close to the culprit. However, by the looks of it, there was more than one man involved.
“What happened?” Orelia pressed.
“A ship hand snuck off and tried to shoot him. Luckily, the ship hand was shot first.”
“Is the ship hand alive?”
“It does not say. I shall request more information, but chances are they do not even know yet.” He folded up the paper and sealed it with a plain seal. He glanced at Orelia. “Whatever happens, we need to find our man, and quick. If we don’t, we shall be back at war once more.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Reed paused and scowled. “Perhaps you should have stayed at the inn.”
Orelia shook her head. “I’m not leaving you.”
The area in which their culprit lived surprised even her. She could hardly claim to have been raised in the most luxurious of manners but the dank smell of the winding alleys with their house roofs nearly touching and the tiny lengths of the buildings, all lined up next to one another made her wonder why more people did not take to travelling. At least they could be afforded clean air and it seemed that even her mother’s wagon had more space than these one room buildings. Several doors sat ajar, affording her a peek inside the tiny rooms with children crammed into every corner.
Or perhaps it was her experience of living with Reed that had caused her shock. She heartily hoped that was not the case. As much as she appreciated being given the opportunity, she could not let her heritage vanish.
She sighed inwardly. Even if it meant leaving Reed’s life and never looking back.
“You were lucky to find any information out at the club before they attacked you.”
“It was not luck,” he said smugly.
She eyed the bruise on his head. “If you claim to have found out where Thomas lives by pure skill, I shall call you a liar.”
“Very well, I overheard the right conversation at the right time.” He chuckled. “It does not hurt to allow a man a little pride, Orelia.” Reed stopped to glance at the grimy sign attached to one house, announcing they were in the right place. “I will be wasting no time,” he warned her. “You may not like what you see.”
She raised her chin. “I am not scared.”
He smiled and gave her a swift peck that took her by surprise. Oh, how she wanted more of them.
How she wanted more of Reed.
If they were coming to the end of their quest, she could not help but think, what harm would it be if they had one moment together? Just one to get her through the rest of her days while she found herself a new identity with her money.
Would he even consider it? Or did he think her just some mild distraction. Someone worth kissing but nothing more.
“Come then, this is it.”
He signaled to a building ahead. No different to the others, the tiny windows were covered in smoke and grime, making it impossible to see through them. The dark stone of the cottage added to the oppressive feel of the area. She shuddered. Give her fields and fresh air any day.
“You shall knock,” he ordered. “Then I shall step in. Make sure you stay clear away until he is secured. I have no wish to harm you.”
She nodded and swallowed hard. They approached the building and Reed stepped out of the view of the door. She knocked three times and clamped her hands at her side in an attempt to keep it from shaking. She waited until footsteps echoed through the building. The hinge squeaked, and the door knob ra
ttled.
She glanced at Reed briefly before fixing a smile upon her face as the man inched the door open. Younger than expected, a gaunt face peered at her through the gap.
“Good morning,” she said brightly. “Could I trouble you for some help?”
Puzzled eyes skimmed over her and he opened the door a little wider.
She moved swiftly aside, and Reed jumped into the gap, forcing the door fully open. He pushed the young man back into the room and Orelia followed, shutting the door behind them.
Darkness surrounded them. The lone candle on a wall mount flickered and stabilized. But Reed did not remain still. Thomas fought him, trying to pry off the grip Reed had on him but to no avail. He appeared to have a limp, Orelia noted and was so scrawny, there was no chance of him beating someone of Reed’s stature.
Reed forced him back into the bed that sat upon a raised platform to one side of the room.
“What is this about?” Thomas asked, his hands raised in defense. “I have no money. I can’t give you anything.”
“I do not want money,” Reed assured him, keeping his stance menacing.
If she were Thomas, she would not have even chanced a move, but the man leapt up suddenly and Reed gave him a light blow to the stomach. He sagged back down to the mattress.
“What do you want from me?” Thomas’ voice trembled.
Reed dragged over a rickety chair and set it in front of the bed. He casually moved around and sat as though they were simply having tea at this man’s house instead of interrogating him.
Reed eyed him. “I want information.”
Thomas rubbed his stomach. “You could have just asked,” he grumbled.
“I could have. But would you really have told me why you’re trying to kill Napoleon?”
The man blinked rapidly. “W-what do you mean?”
Reed leaned forward. “I have enough evidence to prove that you were behind an attempted poisoning of the emperor.”
He shook his head. “No...no...”
“Yes. You poisoned his wine and placed it on The Norfolk.”
Something flickered in his eyes. Thomas lifted his chin. “Well, then you had better have me strung up.” He glanced around the room. “It has to be better than this life.”
Orelia felt a pang of pity. He was clearly injured, likely unable to work, and in utter poverty with no one to look after him. But why would he become involved in some plot to poison Napoleon? What would it achieve?
“There are others involved, are there not?” Reed pressed.
Thomas glanced away. “I wouldn’t know anything about that.”
Reed shifted slightly on his chair and the man raised his hands. “I don’t, I swear. I know nothing. I didn’t even know anything about old Boney.”
Reed glanced at her. This might be the man that put the poison in but as Reed had told her earlier in the day, there was likely many more men involved than they’d first thought.
“So what do you know?”
Thomas huffed out a breath and positioned his injured leg in front of him. “I’m not proud of what I did. If I’m honest, I did not think much of the consequences and who might be getting hurt.” He smacked his weak leg. “I was injured in the war. Left me useless. Now there’s no work for me or any of the thousands of soldiers returning, and no one will take on someone like me.”
There it was again. That shard of sympathy burrowing into her heart. She had seen the soldiers returning, travelling the country to find work and discovering nothing but poverty. Unlike her, they had no community to support them. She was surprised Reed did not seem to have any sympathy for he too had become lost after the war. So many men had been set adrift by it. Her heart hurt for them equally.
“Tell me who hired you,” Reed demanded.
The soldier shrugged.
“Tell me,” Reed hissed, “or you shall regret it.”
Thomas gave a weak chuckle. “There is little you can do to me that will frighten me. I have seen war. What can be worse than that?”
Reed drew back a fist but paused and lowered it. “There will be more war if you do not tell me who you are working for.”
The soldier shrugged again.
Orelia stepped forward and put a hand to Reed’s arm. “Why do you not leave us alone for a moment?” she said quietly.
Reed scowled. “I can’t leave you alone with a stranger,” he murmured.
“I hardly think he’s in much of a condition to do anything and I believe I can get him to talk.”
He glanced back at the soldier and nodded. “Very well.”
Reed stepped out of the house and shut the door. Orelia smiled at the man who had watched their exchange with a perplexed expression.
“The reason we need to know who was giving you orders is that if Napoleon dies, we go back to war.” She sat in front of him and spoke softly as though to a frightened horse. “I know it can be hard to feel any sympathy, especially when it seems like the world has turned its back on you. I understand that, I promise.”
“You’ve never seen war. You’ve never come back to find there’s nothing left for you.”
“But I understand what it’s like to be on the outside. I’m Romani you see. Well, half-Romani. Caught in between you might say. Not quite pure blooded enough for either side to want me.”
He peered at her. “You don’t look it.”
“My father was English. My skin isn’t as dark as my mother’s.”
“I don’t see why I should care what happens to Boney. He’s the one responsible for this damn thing.” He smacked his leg.
“You should care because if we go back to war, more men will be injured and killed. There will be thousands more men in your position.”
He made a huff sound.
“My people were accused of having a role in it simply because they were on the ship. There was no proof but of course because they are Romani, it was assumed they must have done it.” She leaned forward. “I wanted to prove them innocent.”
“Well, you can give the crown my neck. That’ll let them off the hook.”
“I would very much rather give them the neck of whoever is plotting against Napoleon. And I would hope we could save you from the noose. My companion is not without compassion, I promise.”
“What does it matter? I have nothing.”
“So why did you do it?” she asked.
“I was promised coin.”
She tilted her head. “And yet you are here?”
“Because I failed. He gave me enough to pay for this roof over my head after I was kicked out of the last place, so I can’t complain.”
“Who promised you coin?”
The man paused and sighed. “Look, I can’t tell you much. A man took me aside at the Red Lion and said he had a job for me. Said he wanted to help soldiers. He gave me some money then and there, so I agreed to meet him.”
“What did this man look like? Did he give you a name?”
He shook his head. “He was tall, wiry but not starved like I am. Dark hair.”
Could it be the man who attacked her?
“Did he have a French accent?”
Thomas scowled. “No, he was British. From Yorkshire I reckon. Strong northern accent.”
“Oh.”
“I think he was working for someone else. He never could quite give me all the answers.”
Orelia nodded. “So he was hiring you on behalf of someone?”
“Yep.”
“Can I ask my friend to come back in?”
Thomas swung his gaze to the door. “He won’t hit me again will he?”
She chuckled. “No, I’ll make sure of it.”
Thomas gave a reluctant smile. “I suppose it’s hard to say no to a pretty lady.”
Orelia let Reed in and gave him a quick warning to behave. “Thomas, can you tell him what you told me?”
“I don’t know anything. I just met with this man who gave me money. I really can’t tell you anything.”
�
��How did you get in touch with him?” Reed asked.
“I’d leave him a note at the inn. Last time, he gave me a coin and said that was it, that it failed so I wasn’t to speak to him again.”
“But with Boney still alive, he might need you once more,” said Reed.
“If you contact him and arrange a meeting, we could intercept,” Orelia agreed.
Thomas shook his head. “I don’t know if he will even meet me. I don’t see why he would.”
Reed glanced at Orelia and grinned. “It’s worth a try though.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Do you really think we shall get our man?”
Reed glanced at Orelia before turning his attention back to the road. The day was turning dusky, but he had been determined that they return to Keswick before nightfall so they could prepare. They were only a mile or so from his house now and she was growing weary with the gentle rock of the carriage and the melodic clop of the horses. It had been a long and rather exciting day.
Reed nodded. “I think it highly likely. If whoever it is that wants Napoleon dead has not succeeded yet, they might be willing to give Thomas another chance. Regardless, what I asked Thomas to write will gain their attention.”
“Or put Thomas in danger...” she murmured.
“You liked him.”
Orelia shook her head. “Not liked. Pitied.”
“He was almost a murderer do not forget.”
“I think it can be very easy to follow orders when you have spent most of your life doing so. No doubt he’s a murderer many times over but because it was in the name of the king, it was acceptable.”
He took her hand and tugged it into his lap, grasping it tight and rubbing his thumb over the back of it. She blinked at him.
“You are an incredibly astute woman, Orelia.”
She frowned.
“You are clever,” he explained. “You understand people. You see things that others do not.” He chuckled. “And I will admit, I pitied Thomas too. I will do my best to ensure he is not harmed and when this all comes out, I will find a way to protect him from any comeuppance.”
A Rake for All Seasons: A Regency and Victorian Romance Boxset Page 17