Pierce pressed the kiss deeper, coaxing her mouth open beneath his. She let him take the lead. Evelyn relaxed against him, like liquid forming to the shape of a bottle. He left her with little choice and she relished that. For too long she’d been forced to decide everything. Being in sole charge of her and her son’s destiny was a heady kind of power yet there were so many times when she’d wanted—no, needed—someone to take the reins, if just for a short while.
The carriage rocked to a stop and Pierce eased away slowly, not a hint of guilt for likely mussing her in his expression. She’d enter the exhibition with puffy lips and likely a few strands of hair out of place. That ache in her stomach turned into a warm glow. Like marks of his possession, those few little signs would ensure everyone knew her lover had been kissing her thoroughly before their arrival.
Lord, she shouldn’t like it, but she did, she really did.
The door opened, letting in light that made her feel as though she’d been hidden away in a dark cave for years. She followed Pierce out and blinked. That man really did have the oddest effect on her. Her knees were wobbly. How very unlike the cool, collected duchess she was today.
The exhibition was taking place in the assembly rooms where she’d first encountered Josephine Cynfell. The woman’s skill with a brush had caught Evelyn’s eye, and she knew her subsequent purchase and kind words of her painting had helped Josephine’s career. The artist, much like herself, had been determined to succeed on her own. Evelyn understood that need well but any praise had been thoroughly deserved and she couldn’t take any credit for Josephine’s skill. She was only grateful London had finally recognised such talent. Female artists were still in the minority.
Several of Josephine’s paintings lined the entrance hall, set beautifully amongst ferns and the pale blue walls. She paused to admire a painting of the docks.
“Your brother has a talented wife,” she commented to Pierce.
“Josephine is an impressive woman. Lord knows how Dante managed to persuade her to marry him. Speak of the devil...” He nodded his head in the direction of the man she assumed was Dante.
With similar coloured hair and handsome features, there was no doubting these men were brothers, though Dante was slightly leaner. Josephine near glowed as her husband moved in to whisper in her ear. Jealousy gripped her insides at the sight of their intimacy. She shook her head to herself.
She didn’t need that. Didn’t want that. Pierce was here for a brief few months of selfish pleasure, an interlude in her quiet life. Nothing more.
Pierce took her arm and they headed toward the couple. Dante grinned at the sight of his brother and the obvious love between the men jabbed at her once more. What must it be like to have all these family members who so obviously cared about you?
Pierce introduced her to Dante who offered her a dashing smile. She could see why Josephine was so smitten with the man. The woman had been his mistress for many years before marrying him. To remain a mistress for that long took a lot of determination and courage.
More courage than she could muster to be certain. She couldn’t imagine waiting around for the man she loved to finally marry her.
“Your Grace, I wasn’t expecting to see you here today.” Josephine took her hands into hers and clasped them.
“I did not think I’d be in town, but I’m glad I didn’t miss it. You have some wonderful new paintings.”
“Shall I show you my latest?”
Evelyn glanced at Pierce and nodded. Pierce needed to speak to his brother about Sir Lloyd, and it wouldn’t hurt for her to leave him to it, she supposed, though to let him take charge in these matters still warred inside her. Reliance on another...The thought turned her insides ice cold.
“Yes, please.”
Arms looped, they entered the main hall. “There are several other artists exhibited here today,” Josephine explained. “All the paintings are of London. Look how they’ve been displayed to show the difference in living conditions.”
They paused in front of a painting of Hyde Park which had been set next to one of the slums. For a long time, caring about the plight of the poor was simply a fashion—something to mark oneself as superior to others—but after the work of the late Prince Albert and some other respected figures, there had been an increase in charitable work and campaigning for fairer wages.
Women like Josephine who often chose to paint both sides of life were at the forefront of exposing the vast differences. Evelyn admired her very much.
“This is wonderful, Josephine. I’m gratified to see you are doing so well.”
“Well, you know I have you to thank for much of my success.”
She shook her head. “I helped in but a small way and this is all your hard work. One cannot make miracles out of nothing. Besides which, one day I shall own a painting worth a small fortune. So really I should be thanking you.”
They walked a little farther before stopping again and Josephine drew her closer. “Forgive me if I’m being impertinent, but is it true Pierce is your lover?”
“Yes.”
Colour graced Josephine’s cheeks but Evelyn refused to be embarrassed by her needs. After all, rich men like Dante himself took lovers, why should she not?
“I don’t mean to pry...”
“I do not mind.”
“It’s just Dante’s been worried about Pierce. They all have really. I am not sure what—”
“I know of his gambling.” She squeezed Josephine’s arm. “I also know he hasn’t gambled for a month. And he shall be solvent before long.”
Josephine chuckled. “Cynfell men are not the easiest men to change, but I’ll confess to not being surprised that you’ve managed to change Pierce.”
Evelyn shook her head. “I haven’t changed him. I wouldn’t wish to.”
“I used to say that to Dante. He changed himself. Do you not think that Pierce might be doing the same for you?”
She glanced out of the door to view the two men deep in discussion. He looked her way and their gazes locked. Evelyn swallowed. Was he really trying to defeat his demons for her?
Chapter Twelve
“We need to travel to Cornwall.”
Evelyn scowled up at him. “Cornwall?”
“Dante’s heard rumours of business letters of Sir Lloyd’s coming from Cornwall. Polperro to be precise.”
He pushed a hand through Evelyn’s red hair as it streamed over the pillow. He couldn’t help himself. Seeing her all unravelled and unladylike tugged sharp at his gut, especially knowing he’d been the one to unpick those pins, draw her out of her tight corsets and make her scream with pleasure. Knowing he had full control of her body when they were in bed. Now if only he could make some progress into her mind...
He didn’t want control there. No, he admired her independence and intelligent mind very much. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t like to occupy her thoughts a little more, just as she did with him. The woman was becoming slowly ingrained deep inside him, and he had this niggling thought he’d struggle to forget her when their time together ended.
Pierce didn’t want it to end.
That realisation wasn’t new. It had been crawling under his skin for a while. Even so, it was the first time he’d voiced it.
However, persuading her their arrangement didn’t need to end wouldn’t be easy. The bloody woman valued her independence far too much. Didn’t she realise there was no shame in relying on another occasionally?
She wrinkled her nose and he resisted the desire to tell a grown woman how adorable she looked when doing so.
“Polperro? What’s in Polperro?”
“Not much. Boats, fisherman’s cottages. Cornish things.”
Evelyn laughed. “Have you even been to Polperro?”
Pierce brushed a finger down her nose and skimmed her smooth cheeks. A hint of rosiness sat in them, making her appear more youthful. Evelyn had the look of a woman fully grown into her beauty, someone completely at ease with how she appeared, yet a
t times she seemed so fresh and beautiful, like an undiscovered rose tucked away in a bush. Why had no one plucked her yet? It made no sense.
“I’ve never been to Polperro, but what’s to know? All Cornish villages are the same.”
“Well, I suppose we shall find out soon enough.”
We. That appealed to him. He liked that she deferred to him now, that she even allowed him to take the lead outside of the bedroom. It couldn’t be easy for an independent spirit like Evelyn, but he was grateful she let him indulge his need to help her. He suspected he would happily take on far more for her if she let him.
A trip to Cornwall might be a fine thing for them. Time together in a carriage. They’d have to make an overnight stop there. Cornwall was a romantic setting, was it not? He could seduce her further, make her consider the benefits of enjoying more time together. A smile stole across his face and Evelyn touched his lips.
“What is it?”
“I was just considering the things I could do to you on the journey.”
That flush in her cheeks grew, enhanced by the light of the lamps. He loved the two sides to this woman. Bold, courageous...outrageous even. Then he drew her into bed and she became this coy creature, capable of seducing him with her innocence.
Loved those sides. He stiffened. She smoothed her hands over his back and he forced his muscles to relax, one by one. Pierce shook aside the word for the moment. That realisation hadn’t been sneaking up on him. No, that had just hit him like a hammer to stone, rattling through his bones and summoning an earthquake inside him. Loved? Surely not? He wasn’t sure he was the type to go falling headlong in love. Lust, certainly, but love?
It would explain why he wanted more of her, however.
“Pierce?”
He snapped his attention back to her. “Yes?”
“You’re terribly distracted tonight.”
“Forgive me. I’m only thinking on this Lloyd chap and what we shall do once we find him.”
“Force him to confess to forgery, of course.”
He pressed his lips together to smother a grin. He could well imagine Evelyn threatening the man with all sorts and him even cowering and confessing all. But if this wager was indeed a forgery, the stakes were high indeed. A man of his ilk would not give up everything so easily. If necessary, Pierce might have to use his fists. It was a fine job he was good with them. Growing up with six brothers had meant he’d had to be.
“If we get a confession from him, what then?”
“I...I don’t know.”
Drawing her in close, he nuzzled behind her ear and relished the light fragrance of her hair. “You won’t wish to have this business put through the courts will you? The newspapers will take great interest
“Rupert is innocent,” she said forcefully. “But you are right. It would hardly do Samuel any good to have his father’s name bandied around with talk of forgery and gambling.”
“Well, let us get this confession and then we can think on our next step.”
“Yes,” she agreed, wrapping her arms about his neck.
He noted she didn’t correct him or try to argue her case for doing it alone. A light flutter of anticipation started low in his belly. Perhaps this quest of theirs would be good for more than simple seduction. Perhaps he could persuade her to see him as something other than a lover.
Husband material?
Bloody hell.
But, yes. The idea appealed. He couldn’t deny he’d once harboured a thought or two of marrying a rich woman to solve his problems but he’d always shoved aside that thought. As he liked to remind Evelyn, he did have some pride. But if he married her, it would be little to do with wealth and everything to do with how much he admired this woman. How beautiful and entrancing he found her. How he adored trading words with her then making her his in the bedroom. She was his match, he suspected.
Of course everyone would say he married her for her money. But hang them all, he cared little for their opinions and neither did Evelyn. If they were happy, what did it matter?
Pierce shifted his lips from her ear, down to her neck, darting his tongue into the little depression at the base of it. Her responding gasp sent curls of anticipation through him. He slipped a hand underneath the bed sheets and down her naked body to find her wet and ready for him again.
She needed no coaxing. Her legs fell apart, eager for his touch. He gave several light, experimental touches while he gauged how easily he could bring her to the brink. It wouldn’t take much. He knew her body inside and out now, and she never hid from him. Another benefit of having an older woman in his arms. She knew what she liked and never played coy.
“Pierce,” she begged when he toyed with her again. “Do not make me wait.”
He released a low groan. Tonight, he couldn’t deny her. Not while thoughts of love and...other things floated about in his head. Tonight, he’d give her everything. Likely his heart and soul too. He slipped between her legs and thrust deep inside her.
As her body closed about him and her soft moan rang in his ear, he closed his eyes and resigned himself to it. She owned him now. Not just his body, but his heart. He loved his duchess.
Chapter Thirteen
Pierce pushed open the small window of the inn room and the scent of salt teased his senses. Like crisp cotton after a long, tiring day, it wrapped about him and revived him. Out on the seafront, a few lamps glinted off the sea like fireflies, revealing the position of a few fishing boats. He turned back to Evelyn, who stood in the middle of the tiny, low beamed room, studying her travel bag whilst drawing her bottom lip between her teeth.
“I don’t think you’ll find anywhere to put your belongings in here.”
They were in what was apparently the largest room at the inn—and that was likely true. But he still had to duck to avoid hitting his head on the wooden beams and there was but a few feet of space around the old brass bed. There were a handful of other inns in Polperro but they were all the same—small, white buildings, crammed between other houses at odd angles. The fishing village wasn’t used to catering to people of Evelyn’s stature.
A faint whisper of sea air brushed his bare arms. The distant tinkle of metal against wood ran across the harbour. The boats swaying in the breeze, he presumed. He rolled down his sleeves and retrieved his jacket.
“We’ll not have to stay long if I can help it. Why do you not rest awhile?”
“How can I rest when I know that man is out there somewhere? When I know he holds the truth about Rupert?”
There was something vulnerable to her movements when she sliced a hand through the air. Pierce detected a slight tremor of her arm. Did she fear that Rupert had actually been a gambler? From what he knew, she had loved the man very much. The thought created the tiniest itch of jealousy in his gut but it was quickly forgotten when he recalled he was alive and in Evelyn’s company while Rupert had departed this world. As much as he envied the man having been married to her, to have had Evelyn and then be cruelly taken from the world was no position he’d envy.
“I’m going to order some food to be brought up. It’s been a long day.”
Pierce paused in front of Evelyn and put his palms to her neck. He used his thumb to rub her stiff muscles. After a long train journey, a carriage ride and a late afternoon of traipsing through the inns and few shops in the village, they were both wearied. And she was frustrated.
Perhaps Sir Lloyd wasn’t even here. No one had been able to tell them anything and in a small place like Polperro, he would have expected someone to know something. Strangers in their midst would certainly draw attention.
“We’ll find him,” he assured her, urging her chin up so he could stare into those beautiful eyes.
“Yes.”
The word was weary, full of stresses and strains. He wished she let him do more. Hell, she needn’t have even come all this way if she hadn’t wanted to. He could have done this alone. But in spite of her fatigue, that familiar proud glint lingered behind her eye
s. Sometimes he didn’t know whether to be grateful for her stubbornness or aggravated by how little she let him in at times.
“Sit and rest, I’ll be back in a moment.”
Pierce ducked out of the room, barely biting back a curse when he narrowly missed striking his head on a beam. He took the uneven steps down to the next level but there was no sign of any maids or serving girls.
Continuing down, he entered the bar to be greeted by the sound of an out-of-tune piano being played poorly indeed and the scent of stale hops. Underfoot, the floor was sticky. He only hoped this wasn’t an indication of what their bed linens were going to be like. He’d catch a mail coach back to Plymouth and find them a suitable hotel there rather than have Evelyn sleep in a lice-riddled bed.
He strode over to the bar and paused. A comely lass in the corner drew his attention. She eyed him lasciviously, thrusting out her inviting cleavage. He changed direction and slid into the seat next to her. Her stifling perfume wrapped itself about him.
“Good evening to you, sir. You’re not from around here are you?”
Her broad Cornish accent told him she was certainly a local. “No.”
“And you’re needing a friend perhaps?”
A hand curled around his arm. He let it linger though he didn’t much like the presumptuous touch. At least he knew for certain he’d guessed her profession right.
“I have friends. What I need is information.”
Her lips moved into a pout. “I’m not sure I can help you there.”
“It’s valuable information.” He drew out a shilling and pressed it over the table. She pocketed it so quickly, he couldn’t be entirely sure it had touched her hand during the process.
“I’ll do what I can.”
“I’m looking for a Sir Lloyd Chapman. Rumour has it there has been letters sent from this area in his name.”
Sinful Liaisons (Cynfell Brothers Book 3) Page 9