Olivia and the Masked Duke

by Grace Callaway

  “What did I say about you endangering yourself?” he said in a stern tone.

  “That I’m, um, not supposed to go looking for trouble?” For an instant, she dropped her gaze to his mouth, the strict line causing a flutter of her intimate muscles. “But this wasn’t dangerous. Nothing is going to happen to me at a ball—”

  “Leave the business to me, Livy. I mean it.”

  “But I want to help you. I was useful in Pippa’s study, wasn’t I?” she wheedled.

  “You’ll help me by staying safe.” He cupped her cheek, and she was captivated by his touch. By the burning blue of his eyes. “I shouldn’t even be here tonight, shouldn’t be near you.”

  “Why?” Anxiety flared. “You haven’t changed your mind about me—”

  “You are mine.” His firm reply calmed her. “But there has been a new development, and I need privacy to tell you about it. Will you be able to get away tomorrow night?”

  “Charlie will be out of town, visiting a sick friend,” she extemporized. “I could meet you whenever you want.”

  “I will fetch you at seven,” he said. “Behind the house?”

  She nodded.

  “Until tomorrow,” he murmured.

  He bent his head, and her entire being quivered at the hot demand of his kiss. His lips were hard and commanding, his tongue sweeping into her mouth. She sucked eagerly on his offering, and he growled against her lips, thrusting in deeper. A needy pulse started at her core, spreading to the taut tips of her breasts and the aching place between her thighs.

  He broke the kiss all too soon.

  “Are you wet for me?” he rasped in her ear.

  His question made her wetter.

  She nodded bashfully.

  “Is your little pearl throbbing? Does it want to be stroked?”

  When he circled his thumb on her bottom lip, she felt his touch on the place in question.

  “Yes,” she sighed.

  “Well, you’re not to touch it tonight.”

  She blinked at him. Heat scalded her cheeks when she realized that she couldn’t protest his unfair decree without admitting to her furtive bedtime activities. Activities, she thought with squirmy embarrassment, that had started because of him and the feelings he roused in her. Seeing him with Lady Foxton had awakened Livy’s body to a need that had to be assuaged, and she had discovered a temporary and altogether wicked solution.

  His slow, knowing smile made her blush even harder. “Christ, you’re a naughty chit. Refrain this eve, and I shall make it worth your while tomorrow.”

  She overcame her embarrassment enough to say, “Promise?”

  “Promise. Now go back inside, before I debauch you on this balcony.”

  “I wouldn’t mind—”

  “Go, Livy.”

  Reluctantly, she turned to leave, pausing at the door to say, “Sweet dreams, Ben.”

  His smile reached his eyes. “If you visit them, they certainly will be.”

  Livy floated back to the drawing room in time to see the ending of the magic show. From her vantage point at the back of the packed drawing room, she saw Glory go up and exchange a few words with the handsome magician, who at first looked surprised and then threw back his long braid and laughed.

  Livy waited for Glory and the rest of the group to join her.

  “Long wait in the retiring room, Livy dear?” the beautiful, russet-haired Duchess of Ranelagh and Somerville asked. “I hope you caught some of the show.”

  “I was watching from the back of the room, Your Grace,” Livy said.

  “I’ll never understand that trick,” Glory’s papa muttered. “How in the devil did the fellow manage to link and unlink solid metal rings?”

  “I asked him,” Glory said. “In his native tongue.”

  “What did he say, dear?” her mama asked.

  “He winked and said, ‘That is the art of the illusion, young miss: to give the audience what they want to see.’”

  Livy was waiting at the back of Lady Fayne’s house when Ben’s carriage pulled up the next evening. He handed her up, asking her if she had any trouble getting by the servants. Since she’d pranced out, waving farewell to Mrs. Peabody and the cook, she could truthfully say no. Hawker had muttered, “Duke or no duke, that fellow o’ yours better treat you well, Lady Olivia, or ’e’ll be answering to me,” but Livy knew he only had her interests at heart. Over the weeks, the Angels had discovered that the brawny butler was like a gently boiled egg: hard on the outside and mushy soft at his center.

  Sitting beside her, Ben said, “How beautiful you are, Livy.”

  Seeing the masculine appreciation in his eyes, she was glad she’d taken special care in choosing the rose-colored taffeta embellished with ruffles and lace. She’d also worn her hair in a different, more sensual style: her dark tresses were combed smooth and secured at her nape, thick curls hanging over one shoulder. Her only accessories were the fresh peony in her hair and the golden crown necklace Ben had given her.

  “Thank you,” she said softly. “You look very fine yourself.”

  He always did. Tonight, his frock coat matched his eyes, his silver-grey waistcoat and charcoal trousers fitted superbly to his virile form. A diamond stick pin winked in the folds of his cravat. The lamplight kissed the chiseled contours of his face, the lines of experience adding to his masculine beauty.

  He cocked his head. “Where has my little queen gone?”

  She knitted her brows, not understanding. “I am right here.”

  “But you are such a polite young lady. You are not arguing with or pestering me.”

  “I don’t always argue,” she said primly. “And things are different now that we are lovers.”

  At the word “lovers,” his eyes smoldered, and he took her in his arms. His passionate kiss robbed her of her senses. When he lifted his head, she was clutching his lapels, panting.

  “Would you like to know where we are going?” he asked.

  What I would really like is more kisses.

  “Yes,” she managed.

  “We are making a quick stop to meet with a friend. After that, I am taking you to supper.”

  “What friend?” She was instantly intrigued. “Where are we going for supper?”

  He smiled, kissing her on the nose. “There’s my little queen.”

  Yesterday, Ben had met with Chen, showing him Longmere’s journal and telling him about the plan that had taken shape in Ben’s head. The stratagem would require that Ben stay away from Livy for a time—to protect her from the perilous world he would be entering. He knew he couldn’t absent himself from her life without an explanation and, as much as he wanted to shield her from the dark business, he knew her. She would not accept the separation without a rationale, and who knew what measures she might resort to in order to discover the truth?

  She might inadvertently compromise her own safety and Ben’s. In the long run, it was safer for him to tell her about his scheme. To be upfront about his undertaking and his expectations for her during that time.

  That had led to his decision to introduce her to Chen this eve. While Ben was on his mission, the healer could act as the go-between if Livy needed to get a hold of Ben. Ben also trusted Chen to protect Livy if he, himself, was unable to get to her. Finally, it felt right to Ben that the two most important people in his life should meet.

  When he introduced the healer to Livy, her eyes shone with genuine pleasure.

  “It is an honor, sir,” she said sincerely. “Hadleigh has told me what you’ve done for him, and I could not be more grateful.”

  The healer was generally stoic and formal, yet his brown eyes gleamed as he said, “Hadleigh has mentioned you as well, Lady Olivia. And now I see why you have been a distraction to him during his meditation practice.”

  Turning to Ben, she said with girlish glee, “You find me distracting?”

  Ben rolled his eyes while Chen, the bastard, stifled a laugh.

  The healer gave a brief tour of his clinic,
beginning with the meditation room. Livy poked around the Spartan space, lowering herself gracefully onto one of the sitting cushions.

  “How does sitting still help anything?” she asked.

  Amusement flickered in Chen’s gaze. “Have you tried it, my lady?”

  “Not willingly.” A sheepish smile tucked into her cheeks. “I have always preferred action to inaction.”

  “Sometimes non-doing is the most powerful action of all,” Chen replied.

  At Livy’s perplexed look, Ben felt his lips quirk. He helped her to her feet.

  “Don’t mind Chen,” he said. “He is full of mind-boggling notions.”

  Chen lifted his shoulders. “What is mind-boggling to some is obvious to others.”

  Livy chuckled. “I see what you mean.”

  They moved on to the courtyard, which was brightly lit by lanterns and filled with disciples in training. Some were practicing fighting moves on wooden dummies, others lifting buckets of water fastened to a wooden yoke to build their strength. Students in one corner were throwing small daggers at a cross-section of a tree stump to see who could get closest to the white circle painted in the center.

  “Did Hadleigh undergo this training, Mr. Chen?” Livy said, wide-eyed.

  “His Grace was an apt pupil.” Chen nodded at the men practicing with the daggers. They bowed and moved aside, and Chen picked up one of the small blades, handing it to Livy. “Would you care to try?”

  Knowing how sharp the little knife was, Ben frowned. “Are you certain—”

  “I would love to!” Livy snatched the weapon from Chen.

  “Keep your eyes on the target, my lady,” Chen instructed. “Before you throw, picture the dagger in your mind: see it hitting the white circle.”

  Livy’s clear gaze focused on the tree stump. Her delicate gloved fingers held the hilt at a ninety-degree angle next to her ear, and she let the dagger fly with a snap of her wrist. Ben blinked as the blade pierced the center of the board with a decisive thunk.

  “Impressive, my lady.” Chen raised his brows. “Have you done this before?”

  Livy shot Ben a quick glance, then shrugged modestly. “Beginner’s luck.”

  They continued on to Chen’s study. Tea was waiting on the round table, and the three of them took seats. Livy sipped the fragrant amber beverage.

  “This is delicious,” she said. “What kind of tea is this, Mr. Chen?”

  “Chrysanthemum, my lady. It is noted for its beautifying properties,” the healer replied. “Of course, you have no need for those.”

  As Livy blushed, Ben arched his brows at his friend’s heretofore hidden gallantry. He decided to address the business at hand. The sooner he got this unpleasantness over with, the sooner he and Livy could enjoy a private night together.

  “There is a reason I brought you here today,” he said to Livy. “Chen and I conferred yesterday about the best way to capture Fong.”

  “Do you know of Fong, Master Chen?” she asked, wide-eyed.

  Chen shook his head. “The Chinese community here is not large, based in Limehouse and consisting mostly of men involved in the sea trade. Yet I have never heard of this Fong character, and I do not see how he would be able to conduct his operations without drawing attention.”

  “Perhaps Fong doesn’t live in London,” Livy mused. “Longmere described Fong as a warlord, chemist, and spy. Perhaps he only passes through now and again…like a ghostly ship in the night.”

  “Hmm.” Chen looked unconvinced. “I am inclined to think that Longmere’s description is grossly exaggerated. Nonetheless, I have sent word to my contacts in Limehouse to be on the lookout for Fong. Longmere’s journal does provide us with other useful information. We now know that the drug is known as ‘Devil’s Bliss,’ and it seems Longmere and his friends were distributing it until he realized the drug could be lethal and grew a conscience.”

  “The night before his death, he was at Cremorne Gardens with his cronies.” Livy’s thick lashes fanned upward. “I saw a boy slip a note to Thorne, and then the group headed off into the gardens. Do you think Longmere managed to find Fong that night?”

  Ben gave her a reprimanding look. “Since I had my hands full with you, I cannot answer that question, can I?”

  She blushed, her pearly teeth sinking into her plump bottom lip. The naughty, rather unrepentant sparkle in her eyes revealed that she was thinking about their steamy rendezvous at the gardens. His own loins heated at the memory. By Jove, he wanted to make love to her again…and he would, once he settled the present matter.

  “My lady has a good hypothesis,” Chen said, stroking his chin. “Perhaps that night Longmere followed the boy to Fong’s lair. Longmere confronted Fong, wanting out of the operation, threatening to expose Fong and the drug’s lethal properties.”

  “Opium is not illegal, but murder is,” Livy said. “Fong could be facing imprisonment or worse if he were caught. Not to mention the financial losses he would incur. At the Black Lion, Stamford mentioned that one shipment alone netted a thousand pounds in profit for each of them. Fong, being the mastermind, must receive an even larger share.”

  “Excellent reasoning, my lady.” Respect glinted in Chen’s gaze. “Thus, Fong was motivated to permanently silence Longmere. He suffocated the earl, returned the body to the studio, and planted the laudanum to make it look like an accidental death. That also explains why there were no signs of struggle in the studio.”

  “So how do we find Fong?” Livy asked. “Do we monitor Longmere’s cronies, waiting for Fong to contact them?”

  “That is one approach,” Ben said. “Given the close call with Longmere, however, Fong is likely now on alert. He may lie low for a time. Which is why I’ve come up with an alternative plan.”

  Livy tilted her head. “What is it?”

  He paused, his instincts warring. A part of him wanted to protect her from the filth of his past, which had bled into the present. Another part trusted her to handle the truth. She had accepted everything he’d shared thus far, and he craved her sweetness, the absolution that only her love could give.

  Squaring his shoulders, he said, “In my younger days, I was friends with Edgecombe, Bollinger, and Thorne. We were known as the Four Horsemen due to our wild rakehell ways. I stopped associating with the scoundrels years ago, but my plan is to infiltrate the group. To become a Horseman once again so that I may track down Fong and eradicate the Devil’s Bliss.”

  24

  It was nine o’clock by the time Ben led Livy into his suite. Having her in his private sanctuary, looking so petite and innocent in her rosy frock, brought his fantasies to vivid life. As she took in the forest-green walls and mahogany furnishings with avid curiosity, she could be Little Red Riding Hood stumbling into the dark woods. He didn’t know if he was the huntsman or the wolf: he wanted to both protect and ravish her.

  “It is strange how many times I have been in your home but never in here,” she mused.

  He came up behind her, helping to remove her pelisse and stealing a whiff of her mouth-watering scent: peach blossoms, subtle soap, and Livy.

  “A gentleman’s bedchamber was no place for a little girl,” he murmured.

  “I am no longer a little girl.” She gave him an adorably smug look. “Now, I am your lover.”

  Hearing her say the word “lover” sent a sizzle through his blood. It didn’t help that she was currently peering at his massive tester bed with unmaidenly interest. He flashed to an image of her lying on that mattress, naked and moaning as he ate her pussy, and his groin burgeoned with heat.

  Keep a rein on yourself. Tonight may be the last time you see her for a while. Make the occasion special for her.

  At the very least, he could feed her before he pounced on her.

  He led the way to his sitting room, where he’d instructed his staff to set up an intimate supper that he could serve himself. They’d followed his instructions to a tee. Hothouse roses bloomed on every surface, beeswax candles bathing th
e room in a warm glow. A small table stood cozily by the fire, covered with crisp linen and gleaming silver and china. A tiered cart filled with silver-domed dishes sat by the table, as did a bucket of iced champagne.

  Ben held out one of the velvet-covered chairs for Livy. “I hope you don’t mind having supper at home. I thought privacy would be best.”

  “This is beautiful, Ben.” She gazed around the room in wonder. “All these years, and I never guessed you were a romantic.”

  “You did not know me as a lover,” he said huskily. “Would you like champagne?”

  She looked at him. “Are you partaking?”

  Only she would think to ask. Would care enough to do so.

  He shook his head. “But don’t let that stop you.”

  “I don’t need champagne.” She smiled at him. “I feel giddy already.”

  The truth was he felt a bit giddy himself. Like a lad going courting for the first time, filled with anxious hope and desire. Given his advanced years and experience, it was rather embarrassing.

  Ben cleared his throat and reached for the dishes at the top of the cart. “As we are fending for ourselves this eve, allow me to serve you.”

  He placed the hors d’oeuvre in front of her, grilled oysters wrapped in bacon and drizzled with a creamy caper sauce. Taking a plate for himself, he joined her at the table.

  “I am famished.” She dug in, her eyes closing briefly in bliss. “This is delicious.”

  Ben had always enjoyed watching Livy eat. Unlike Arabella, who’d constantly been on some slimming plan or another, Livy ate the way she did most things in life: with gusto and unaffected joy. As she slid a bacon-wrapped morsel between her lips, making a little sound of pleasure, he felt a primal tug low in his belly. Christ, the passion in her…