by Amanda Quick
It was not her lost fee that she would be contemplating in the morning, Lavinia thought. It was the end of her uneasy partnership with Tobias that would weigh heavily on her mind. The diary had brought them together and now the diary was no more.
The full impact of this night’s events finally struck her. A ghastly sensation of doom descended.
She might never see Tobias again after tonight.
The sense of impending loss that swirled through her was intense. What was the matter with her? She ought to be grateful to know that he would soon be out of her life. He had cost her the fee for this night’s work.
But for some reason, all she could feel was regret.
With a soft cry, she released the blanket and threw her arms around his neck.
“Tobias.”
His mouth closed urgently over hers.
His last kiss had left smoldering embers. At the touch of his mouth now, the flames leaped into a searing, dazzling blaze. No man’s embrace had ever had such an effect on her. What she had known with John all those years ago had been a sweet sonnet of delicate, insubstantial feelings too ethereal for this world. What she experienced in Tobias’s arms, however, filled her with indescribably thrilling sensations.
Tobias tore his mouth from hers and trailed kisses down her throat. She fell back onto the velvet squabs. Her cloak spread out beneath her. She felt his hand on her leg and wondered how he had got it beneath the cloak and the skirts of her gown without her being aware of his action.
“We hardly know each other,” she whispered.
“On the contrary.” He slid warm fingers up the inside of her thigh. “I’ll wager I discovered more about you during the time in Rome than a great many husbands know about their wives.”
“I find that extremely difficult to believe.”
“I shall prove it to you.”
She kissed him hungrily. “How can you do that?”
“Let me see, where shall I begin?” He reached behind her and loosened the tapes of her bodice. “I know that you are very fond of long walks. I must have followed you for miles in Rome.”
“Healthful. Long walks are excellent for the health, sir.”
He lowered the bodice of her gown. “I know that you enjoy reading poetry.”
“You saw the books on my shelf in Rome that night.”
He touched the silver pendant she wore at her throat and then he kissed one stiff nipple. “I know that you would not allow Pomfrey to make you his mistress.”
That piece of information was like cold rain dashed in her face. She went still, her hands on his shoulders, and stared up at him.
“You know about Pomfrey?”
“Everyone in Rome knew about Pomfrey. He seduced nearly every widow in town and a fair number of wives.” Tobias kissed the valley between her breasts. “But you turned down his offer out of hand.”
“Lord Pomfrey is a married man.” Good grief, she sounded quite prim, even to her own ears.
Tobias raised his head. His eyes gleamed in the dim glow of the lamps. “He is also very rich and said to be exceedingly generous with his mistresses. He could have made your life a good deal more pleasant.”
She shuddered. “I cannot think of anything more unpleasant than being Pomfrey’s mistress. The man drinks heavily and when he is in his cups he has no control over his temper. I once saw him strike a blow at another man who had only teased him for being inebriated.”
“I was there the day he saw you in the market. I heard him try to persuade you to let him set you up in a small apartment.”
She was mortified. “You overheard that embarrassing conversation?”
“It wasn’t particularly difficult to overhear your response to his offer.” Tobias’s teeth flashed briefly. “Your voice was somewhat elevated, as I recall.”
“I was furious.” She paused. “Where were you?”
“In the doorway of a small shop.” He slid his hand higher along the inside of her leg. “I was eating an orange.”
“You remember such a small detail?”
“I remember everything about that moment. After Pomfrey took himself off in high dudgeon, I decided that the orange I was eating was far and away the finest orange I had ever eaten in my entire life. Nothing else had ever tasted so sweet.”
He closed his palm over the hot, damp place between her legs.
Heat swirled through her lower body, leaving her tingling and trembling in a storm of sensation. She could tell from the wicked satisfaction in Tobias’s eyes that he knew full well what he was doing to her. It was time to turn the tables.
“Well, at least now I know something about you, sir.” She clutched his shoulders very tightly. “You are fond of oranges.”
“I like them well enough. But in Italy they say there is no fruit that can compare with a ripe fig.” He stroked her deliberately. “I’m inclined to agree.”
She nearly choked on a gasp that was a mix of outrage and laughter. She had lived long enough in Mrs. Underwood’s household to learn that in Italy ripe figs were considered an earthy symbol of a woman’s sex.
He covered her mouth once more with his own, silencing her. He used his hand to bring her to the brink of a sensation she had never known before. When she shivered and moaned in his arms, seeking something more, he unfastened the opening of his trousers.
And then he was between her legs, sliding slowly, relentlessly into her body, filling her completely. Without warning, the great tension within her suddenly exploded in glittering fragments of intense feeling that no poet could have even begun to describe.
“Tobias?” She clawed her hands down his back. “Bloody hell, Tobias. Tobias.”
A soft, husky laugh, more of a groan really, purred through him.
She wrapped her arms around him, repeating his name over and over again. He used his weight to sink himself deeper into her body.
Beneath her hands the muscles of his back went taut and rigid. She knew he was on the edge of his own release. Impulsively she tried to pull him closer.
“No,” he muttered.
To her astonishment he wrenched his mouth from hers and jerked himself roughly, unceremoniously out of her body. He gave a muffled exclamation and convulsed violently.
She held him while he spent himself into the folds of her cloak.
eleven
Tobias came slowly back to his senses. The carriage was still in motion, he realized. He did not have to move just yet. He could indulge himself in her softness for a little while longer.
“Tobias?”
“Mmm?”
She shifted a little beneath him. “I think we are about to arrive at my house.”
“I thought you might say that.” He closed his hand over one breast. It was resilient and so beautifully shaped. A perfect apple.
It would probably be a good idea not to return to the subject of fresh fruit tonight. Lavinia was right, they must be very close to her little house in Claremont Lane.
“Hurry, Tobias.” She wriggled agitatedly beneath him. “We must put ourselves to rights. Just think of how embarrassing it would be to have one of Mrs. Dove’s footmen discover us in this condition.”
The alarm in her tone amused him.
“Calm yourself, Lavinia.” He sat up slowly, reluctantly, pausing just long enough to drop a kiss on the inside of her bare thigh.
“Tobias.”
“I hear you, Mrs. Lake. So will the coachman and the footman up on the box if you do not lower your voice.”
“Quickly.” She sat up, fumbling with her bodice. “We shall be stopping at any moment. Oh dear, I do hope we have not damaged Mrs. Dove’s cushions. What will she think?”
“I do not particularly care what Mrs. Dove thinks.” He inhaled the tang their recent passion had left in the close confines of the carriage. “She is no longer your client, remember?”
“For heaven’s sake, sir, she is an elegant lady.” Lavinia adjusted the silver pendant with a small, anxious motion. “I’m quite ce
rtain she is not accustomed to having her lovely carriage treated like a cheap hackney.”
He looked at her, unable to resist a rush of deep satisfaction. The yellow light of the lamp danced on her tousled hair, igniting red and gold sparks. Her cheeks were flushed. There was a warm glow about her that was unmistakable.
Then he noticed the panic in her eyes.
“You’re embarrassed, aren’t you?” he asked. “You’re afraid Mrs. Dove will believe you to be something other than a lady, if she learns what happened here.”
Lavinia was engaged in a full-scale struggle with her bodice. “She will likely conclude that I am no better than one of those women who hang about in Covent Garden at odd hours of the night.”
He shrugged, still too satiated to work up any strong feelings on the matter. “Why do you care what she thinks of you now?”
“Having her believe me to be a light-skirt is not the sort of impression one wishes to leave with a client.”
“Former client.”
Her jaw tightened grimly. “Yes, well, word of mouth is important in this profession. One can hardly advertise in the papers, after all. One must rely on recommendations from satisfied clients.”
“Personally, I am perfectly satisfied at the moment. Does that count?”
“Certainly not. You are a business associate, not a client. Do not tease me, Tobias. You know perfectly well I cannot have Mrs. Dove telling her fine friends that I am nothing but a . . . a—”
“You’re not,” he said flatly. “And we both know it. So why harp on the subject?”
She blinked, as if slightly dazed by the simple question. “It’s the principle of the thing.”
He nodded. “You mentioned principles earlier. I gather they are important to you. But this is something other than a matter of principle. It is a matter of common sense. I would not want you to get into the habit of throwing your clients’ money back in their faces. If Mrs. Dove should decide to send you your fee in spite of what you said to her tonight, I strongly suggest you accept it.”
She stopped fighting with the bodice and gave him a ferocious look. “How dare you find this the least bit amusing, sir.”
“Forgive me, Lavinia.” He reached behind her shoulders and adjusted the gown. “But you appear to be falling into a fit of hysteria.”
“How can you accuse me of hysteria? I am concerned for my reputation. A perfectly reasonable concern, if you ask me. I do not wish to be forced to change careers again. It is a great bother.”
He smiled. “Mrs. Lake, I assure you, if anyone dares to impugn your honor, I will defend it all the way to the dueling field.”
“You are determined to make a joke of this, are you not?”
“Your cloak may be somewhat the worse for wear, but I think you will find that the cushions are in excellent condition. Even if they are not, I’m sure that the coachman will see to it that they are spotless in the morning. It is his job to keep the vehicle in excellent condition.”
“My cloak.” Fresh alarm stole the warmth from her face. She went decidedly pale. She scrambled awkwardly off the seat and plucked the cloak off the cushions. “Oh dear.”
“Lavinia—”
She sat down on the opposite seat and shook out the folds of the cloak. Holding the garment out in front of her, she stared, aghast, at the lining.
“Oh no. This is dreadful. Absolutely dreadful.”
“Lavinia, has the loss of your client affected your nerves?”
She ignored that. Whipping the cloak around, she displayed a dark, damp stain. “Look what you did to it, Tobias. You ruined it. I cannot possibly explain such a mark. I can only hope I will be able to remove it before anyone in the household notices.”
Her overwrought concern about the cushions and her cloak was destroying his mood, he thought. The love-making had been the most exhilarating experience he had had in a very long time. He would have wagered a considerable amount that she had been amply satisfied also. In fact, the surprise that had laced her voice when her climax had stormed through her had convinced him that until tonight she was unfamiliar with the sensation of a sexual release.
But instead of reveling in the aftermath of mutually shared pleasure, she was carrying on about a damned stain.
“Congratulations, Lavinia. You do a very affecting Lady Macbeth. But I’m certain that when you consider the matter more closely, you’ll agree it is far better to have the evidence of our recent exercise show up on your cloak than elsewhere.”
She looked uneasily at the velvet cushions next to him. “Yes, of course. It would have been terrible if the stain had appeared on the seat. But it does appear to be unspotted, as you said.”
The carriage was slowing. He pulled aside the curtain and saw that they had arrived in Claremont Lane. “I was not referring to the cushions.”
“Really, sir, where else would a stain such as that matter as much as it would on Mrs. Dove’s cushions?”
He met her eyes and said nothing.
She frowned. Confusion crossed her face a second before comprehension lit her eyes.
“Yes, of course,” she said without inflection. Her gaze slipped away from his. She concentrated on bundling up the cloak.
“There is no need for embarrassment between us, Lavinia. We have both had some experience in the marital bed. Neither of us is newly emerged from the schoolroom.”
She stared fixedly out the window. “Yes, of course.”
“While we’re on the subject, let us speak plainly. As you can tell from that damned spot on your cloak, I took what small precautions were available under the circumstances.” He softened his voice. “But we both know there is no guarantee that there will not be unintended consequences.”
Her hands tightened on the wadded-up cloak. “Yes, of course.”
“If they occur, you will feel free to discuss them with me, will you not?”
“Yes, of course.” This time she uttered the litany in a tone that was two octaves above her normal speaking voice.
“I admit I was caught up in the passions of the moment. Next time, however, I shall be better prepared. I will endeavor to procure some devices before we indulge ourselves in this sort of thing again.”
“Oh, look, sir, we have arrived,” she said much too brightly. “Home at last.”
The sturdy footman opened the carriage door and let down the step for Lavinia. She moved toward the opening as though it were an escape route from a burning building.
“Good night, Tobias.”
He reached out and caught her hand. “Lavinia, are you certain you are all right? You do not seem quite yourself.”
“Indeed?”
The smile she gave him over her shoulder gleamed like polished steel. Very much a Lavinia sort of smile, he concluded. He did not know if that was a good sign.
“It has been a trying evening,” he ventured cautiously. “Your nerves are obviously quite unsettled.”
“I cannot imagine why my nerves should be the least unsettled. After all, I have merely lost my sole client and had a perfectly good cloak ruined. In addition, I shall be obliged to worry about some extremely personal matters for the next few days.”
He met her eyes. “You can blame me for all of those concerns.”
“Oh, I do.” She gave her hand to the big footman. “Clearly my difficulties can be traced directly to your doorstep, sir. Once again, my problems are all your fault.”
Why was it that everything involving Lavinia was always so damnably complicated? Tobias stalked into his study a short while later, poured himself a healthy measure of brandy, and dropped into his favorite chair. He gazed morosely into the banked fire. Visions of a stained cloak danced in front of his eyes.
The door opened behind him.
“You’re home at last.” Anthony, cravat loosened and shirt open, sauntered into the room. “I stopped off an hour ago on my way back to my lodgings to see if you had any news. Helped myself to some of Whitby’s leftover salmon pie. I must say, I miss
his cooking.”
“How could you possibly miss it? You seem to be around for every meal and a good many late-night snacks.”
“Wouldn’t want you to get lonely.” Anthony chuckled. “Not like you to be out so late. An interesting evening, I presume?”
“Found the diary.”
Anthony whistled softly. “Congratulations. I assume you tore out the pages that were of particular importance to you and Mrs. Lake and your client?”
“There was no need to remove them. Someone had thrown the damn thing into a fire before I found it. There was enough left to identify it but not enough to matter to anyone.”
“I see.” Anthony shoved a hand through his hair while he pondered that. “Whoever killed Felix and took the diary wanted to make it clear to you that your inquiries can be halted now, is that it?”
“I think so. Yes.”
“You said at the beginning of this affair that a number of people were mentioned in the diary. Any one of them might have killed Holton Felix and then destroyed the journal.”
“Yes.”
“How did Neville take the news?”
“I haven’t informed him of the latest developments,” Tobias said.
Anthony looked curious. “What happens next?”
“Next? I’m going to bed. That’s what happens next.”
“I was about to walk back to my lodgings when I heard that very fine carriage arrive at our door.” Anthony grinned. “Thought at first someone had mistaken the address. Then I saw you get out.”
“The carriage belongs to Lavinia’s client.” Tobias swallowed some brandy. “Former client, as of tonight.”
“Because the diary has been found?”
“No. Because Lavinia dismissed her. Told Mrs. Dove that she would not accept the fee they had agreed upon.”
“I don’t understand.” Anthony went to stand in front of the slumbering fire. “Why the devil would Mrs. Lake reject her fee?”
Tobias downed more brandy and lowered the glass to the arm of the chair.