“I’m not certain I feel courageous today.”
“A duchess is always assured of herself.” Reed’s mother tweaked the jewels around Orelia’s neck. “You are a strong woman, Orelia. That’s all that is needed to carry out such a role. Strength. And love for my son helps too.”
Orelia managed a shaky smile. “I have plenty of that.”
“Good to hear.” Reed entered the hallway as he pulled on his gloves. “The carriage is waiting. Shall we?” He offered his arm to Orelia, his eyes warming when he glanced over her. “I have plenty of love for you too,” he murmured in Orelia’s ear.
Her insides did a gentle flip. She suspected her husband would always have this effect on her. All he needed to do was look at her and her knees grew weak, her breaths heavy. Especially now that he was well and truly hers. She peeked back at the house as they climbed into the carriage. Surely this all had to be a dream?
“Is everything in place?” she asked when the vehicle began to move.
He nodded. “Several men are in place at the house, ready to escort Lord Windham.”
Orelia shook her head in wonder. Once they had the two men in custody, they had given up their employer quickly enough. Reed had done an excellent job of playing them against each other.
“It is thanks to you we have confessions.” Reed took her hand and twined his fingers between hers.
“Hardly. You were far better at it than me.”
“You know how to appeal to a man’s softer side I think. You broke them before I did.”
She gave a light laugh. “Breaking them sounds a little extreme.” She glanced down to where their gloved hands were linked. “It is hard to understand why a rich man like Lord Windham would participate in an assassination attempt.”
He lifted a shoulder. “Well, we shall confront him tonight and have our answers, but it does not change what he did. I nearly lost you because of him and I will not forget that easily.”
“You did not lose me, however.” She squeezed his hand.
“No, I managed to gain a wife somehow.”
She gave his arm a light tap. “You asked me to marry you, remember?”
Reed chuckled. “That I did. I could not wait another moment. After all, I needed to get good value for my money.”
Orelia rolled her eyes and smiled. No matter how glib he was being, she would never forget the moment he asked her to be with him forever, his words tremulous and his eyes filled with emotion.
The nerves began to twist her gut when they arrived at the manor house, reassuring her that this was no dream. If it was, she would not have to be attending another ball where everyone would turn and stare at her. However, this was for the good of the mission.
“What if someone recognizes me?” she hissed to Reed when he helped her out of the carriage and took her arm to escort her up the steps.
Lanterns lined the road up to the sizeable house. A golden glow emanated from the open door between two long stone columns. The house radiated decadence and wealth.
“I should hope they do,” murmured Reed, introducing them both to the master of ceremonies. “You are my wife, after all.”
“I meant as the Spanish noblewoman,” she muttered.
He waved a dismissive hand. “You’re a duchess now. Whatever reason we make up for the subterfuge will be accepted.”
She lifted her eyes to the ceiling at his nonchalant attitude. Sometimes she forgot that a man of his rank and wealth could do almost anything he wanted.
The master of ceremonies announced them as the Duke and Duchess of Keswick. She tried to keep her smile from shaking.
Reed tightened his hold on her arm. “Just breathe, Orelia.”
“Everyone is looking at us.”
“Everyone is looking at you. As they should be. You’re beautiful.”
Though Orelia appreciated the comment, she knew that was not the only reason people were looking at her. Her heritage might not be fully known but she was aware there had been plenty of gossip surrounding her sudden marriage to Reed. A few disapproving looks were sent their way.
She lifted her chin and concentrated on drawing in breaths to steady her heart. “It seems even a duke cannot get away with everything.”
“Perhaps not.” He drew her straight onto the dance floor as a waltz started up. “But I only care about what you think,” he said in her ear as he held her close and guided her through the steps that were still a little alien to her.
She glanced into her husband’s eyes and all trepidation vanished. After all, a ball was no more terrifying than any of the other adventures she’d had with Reed. Not to mention she had one less uncertainty to worry about—Reed loved her, and always would. That knowledge fed her strength and she held herself tall whilst her husband led her around the room for all to see.
His arms cradled her body just so and allowed her to relish the strength of him and draw in the intoxicating scent as well as view the promise in his eyes. Perhaps balls were not so bad.
They remained off the dance floor for the rest of the evening, and while there were those who gave Reed what he called the ‘cut’, many were still interested in talking to them. Orelia struggled to pay attention to the talk, particularly when there was only one person they were interested in seeing and he had yet to appear.
She waved a hand in front of her face. The atmosphere in the crowded ballroom was thick with perfume and heat. “Where is the baron?”
Reed plucked the fan from her wrist and flipped it open. She grimaced. She’d forgotten she even had such a thing. Wafting it rapidly in front of her face, she gave a sigh of relief. How people danced all night long in thick gowns and with such little fresh air, she did not know.
“I do not believe he has even stepped foot in the room,” Reed told her. “Since the death of his son, he does not attend these events.”
“Even though he is hosting this?”
“Well, Lord Windham’s eldest son is hosting this really. It’s rather obligatory, I’m afraid. One is expected to entertain when one has rank.”
Orelia made a face. “Does this mean we shall be hosting balls?”
“Only a handful, but yes.” He chuckled at her horrified expression. “Do not fear, I shall ensure a waltz is played at every single one. I would not pass up on an opportunity to dance closely with you.”
She gave a half-smile. “I suppose that would be acceptable.”
“Spoken like a true duchess.”
Orelia observed the dancers and those huddled around the edge of the dance floor. “So where are we to find this baron?”
“I heard tell he likes to spend time in his study.” Reed kept his voice low. “One of the serving girls said he is at home so we need to find him before the ball ends.”
“I still do not know why we have to do this so subtly.”
Reed gave a wry smile. “The benefits of rank and wealth, Orelia. We cannot have this hauled through the courts, anyway. The attempts on Boney cannot become common news or we might have war on our hands regardless of having caught the culprit. I hope we can persuade him to come quietly.”
She pursed her lips. The Romani man who had been paid to falsely confess had not been given the benefit of such delicate handling. Thankfully once they gained the confessions of the men who had tried to drown her, Manfri admitted to giving a false confession and had been released. Thomas had also been treated sympathetically but she suspected Reed had a lot to do with that.
“Come, I think we have put in enough of an appearance. Let us see if we cannot find him now.” Reed took her arm and led her out of the ballroom, muttering something about her needing some air for anyone who might be paying attention.
“The study should be down here.” He paused outside a door and looked at her. “He tried to kill you, Orelia.” His voice cracked slightly when he said her name. “I nearly lost you.”
“But you did not,” she reminded him again.
Reed’s chest rose as he took an audible breath and he pus
hed open the door. Orelia swiftly followed him in, her eyes taking a moment to adjust to the dim light. Only lamps were lit, one on a desk and the other on a side table. Hunched over the desk, was a frail, aged man.
Orelia gasped. This was not how she’d envisaged the man who had wanted to kill her and Thomas. His eyes were gaunt, his hands boney. Little hair lingered on his head and his clothes appeared to fit poorly.
His head snapped up. “I told you—” Lord Windham scowled. “What are you doing in here?”
Reed stepped toward the desk. “We know what you did, Lord Windham.”
His scowl deepened. “What the devil are you blabbering on about?”
“We have confessions. We have letters. We know all we need to know.” Reed leaned in. “You tried to kill Napoleon.”
The man’s gaze narrowed at Reed and a few moments passed. Suddenly, he slammed his fist onto the table, making Orelia jump. “The bastard deserved it! He deserves to die!”
“So you did try to kill him?” Reed pressed.
“Why our country thought it right to let him live, I do not know,” the man snarled.
Reed shook his head. “It was the best way to keep peace. If he dies under our watch, the war continues.”
Lord Windham’s jaw tensed. “He killed my son and now he gets to spend the rest of his days alive? No, it shall not be borne. The man needs to die.”
“And Orelia here. She needed to die too?”
Reed curled a fist and Orelia moved close in case she needed to step in. She had wanted Lord Windham to be punished for what he did but it was clear the man was eaten up by grief. Whatever they did to him would be inconsequential. Perhaps her heart was too soft, but she almost felt sorry for him.
Lord Windham gave her a quick glance over. “My men told me you were getting too close. I had no wish to harm anyone else, but Napoleon has to die.”
Reed folded his arms and shook his head. “If he dies, more sons like yours will be killed in battle. We cannot allow you to try again.”
The baron’s defensive stance drooped. “My son was young. Innocent. He had no idea what war was like. I never wanted him to go but he insisted he needed to fight for his country. I can never forgive the man who started this war.” He swung his gaze between them. “What will you do with me?”
“You are lucky, Lord Windham, that the Secret Service has no wish to make this event known. You will be allowed to go into exile—under watch,” Reed told him. “I hope you like hot weather.”
The man’s gaze hardened. “So I get the same treatment as Napoleon, all because I tried to kill one man. He killed hundreds of thousands and gets to live the rest of his days in comfort.”
Reed slammed both his hands onto the desk and bore down on the man. “You tried to kill my wife,” he said through clenched teeth. “Be grateful that I am not a vengeful man.”
Lord Windham eyed Reed then glanced at her. He sighed. “I am sorry that you were hurt.”
Orelia made no comment. It was hard to imagine this tired old man ordering someone to kill her, but she could still remember plunging into the freezing water, the darkness swallowing her.
“There are men stationed in and around the building,” Reed informed him. “They will escort you to the docks tomorrow morning. I suggest you ensure you are ready.”
The baron gave a resigned sigh. “I have nothing left here anyway.”
“You have your other son,” Orelia pointed out. “You have so much more than many others. It hurts to lose people, but you could have done so much good.”
She could see her words did not infiltrate. Grief had shaped the baron into an empty shell of a man. That pang of pity struck her.
“I think we have our answers,” he murmured to Orelia. She nodded and Reed took her arm. “If you will excuse us, Lord Windham, my wife and I have a ball to attend.”
As they stepped out of the room, Reed nodded to a man dressed as a servant waiting at the end of the hall. The man stepped past them into the study, shutting the door behind him.
“I feel sorry for him,” Orelia confessed to Reed as they walked back to the ballroom.
“He tried to hurt you. I’m afraid I cannot feel the same.” He paused and twisted to face her. He skimmed a palm over her cheek, cradling her face and tracing the shape of her mouth with a thumb. “However, if none of this had happened, I would never have found you.”
“And your life would be much simpler.” She grinned.
“That it would,” he agreed, chuckling at her gasp of indignation. “But who wants simple?”
“Do you regret that there will be no more missions?”
He shook his head. “The Secret Service may have small tasks for us, but I have no desire to leave England again—not when my beautiful wife resides here.” He leaned in and brushed a tender kiss across her mouth before easing back to look into her eyes. “What of you? You made an excellent spy, Orelia. Will you not miss it?”
Her body tingled from his kiss and her heart swelled with love for this wonderful man. She shook her head. “I have all the excitement I need right here.”
His smile reached his eyes and he kissed her swiftly and firmly then drew back. “Come then, shall we dance once more and truly scandalize everyone here?”
She nodded and took his offered hand. A strange wash of sensation came over her as an image fluttered through her mind—one of a long marriage and many children.
“Lead the way, Your Grace.”
After all, she did not need a vision to tell her what she already knew—her future was Reed, and what a wonderful future it would be.
“I love you,” he murmured, stealing one more kiss before they entered the ballroom.
THE END
Sinful Cravings
A Cynfell Brothers Novella
SAMANTHA HOLT
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Epilogue
Chapter One
London, 1898
Was it his imagination or was the scent of perfume emanating from that woman? Jasper peered over his wine glass at the lady—no, girl perhaps—in the doorway and pondered just how much Guerlain’s Jicky she could possibly be wearing if he could smell it from his position near the fireplace at the back of the wine bar. Of course, he knew the perfume well. Many women of his acquaintance wore it. He couldn’t recall the number of sweetly-fragranced necks he’d burrowed into while murmuring how delicious they smelled. And the response the vast majority of the time had been a giggle and ‘Oh it’s just Jicky.’
Jasper let his brow furrow as he considered the woman with a hand to her hat. This was not the sort of woman to wear expensive perfumes or to bother with anything other than soap in his experience. Her stiffly starched collar, small, non-descript cameo broach, tight jacket and long skirt spoke of a woman with little patience for vanity.
A few speckles of rain and an umbrella in her hand told him the weather had turned since his arrival at Gordon’s. She turned his way, her hand still to the brown, wide-brimmed hat. It reminded him of something a pastor might wear and he had the urge to accidentally knock the monstrosity from her head and stomp on it. No woman should be dressed so dully.
And she was definitely a woman, though he could be forgiven for thinking of her as younger because of an air of innocence that was wasted on her. Any other young woman would be using that petite face and wide brown eyes to beg for assistance, but her pursed lips and severe eyebrows kept every man at bay.
Including him. He had no interest in her even if he puzzled over why someone like her had stepped foot in Gordon’s Wine Bar—a place with a reputation for beautiful women, scandalous happenings and the occasional illegal
activity.
Jasper managed to ignore her until she stumbled not far from the bar. She glanced around again and he saw colour spring up on her cheeks when her gaze connected with his. For some odd reason, he didn’t look away. Perhaps he simply liked making her more uncomfortable. That had to be it. He didn’t wish to think about a passably pretty face and fairly attractive brown curls creeping out from that...monstrosity on her head.
Anyway, was he not meant to be thinking of Constance? Constance and her painted lips and artfully decorated eyes. Constance who would not be seen dead with a brown hat and a starched collar. Constance whom he had pursued quite fervently this week and fully intended to take to bed tonight so he could appreciate what he’d spied beneath those low bodices. Unfortunately, Constance was not here yet and Miss Ugly Brown Hat was.
Miss Ugly Brown hat who was moving farther into the bar and starting to attract attention. It couldn’t be for her looks. There were plenty of decent-looking women in the bar, most of whom could be bought by the hour, but this lady had a look of utter naivety to her. Her nervous movements and darting gaze said easy mark. And if he knew anything about women’s clothing—which he did—hers were of decent quality. She was no princess but no pauper either. The likelihood was, she’d have a few bob on her.
Jasper tightened his grip on the wine glass. The patrons knew it too. He grimaced to himself. She was going to get herself in trouble. What was a woman like her doing in a place like this anyway? Certainly he spent time with women here but they were never alone and never made themselves look so vulnerable. No one would dare look at Constance like that. She might be a rich widow but the patrons knew they’d never survive touching her.
He blew out a lengthy breath and placed down his glass. There was no escaping it. He’d have to go to her defence. Ugly hat or not, he couldn’t very well stand by and watch her be robbed.
Two men rose from their seats before he did and they were a darn sight closer. She had the look of a fox being chased by a hound as they approached. She gripped the umbrella and held it across her chest like a shield. One of the men leaned close to her to say something Jasper couldn’t catch. Then the other touched her.
A Rake for All Seasons: A Regency and Victorian Romance Boxset Page 22