He growled low in his throat, a sound of approval and encouragement, and she loosened the fabric, moved aside the white linen of his smalls. A stifled gasp escaped her when his hardened length sprang free, his expression changed to prideful insolence.
That same arrogant grin fell away as soon as she placed her palm along his arousal. He jolted. A sharp inhale accompanied the motion while she swelled with new confidence. Wrapping her fingers in a comfortable hold, she worked his length with even, fluid strokes, soft against hard, cool against hot, revelling in the reactions which flashed across his face, barely contained control, sublime satisfaction and eager determination.
His muscles tensed and he released a tight breath, his body wound in wait as she coaxed him towards release. What would it feel like to put her mouth to him? How would he taste? The question scratched at her brain with eager enquiry. He’d suggested the shocking intimacy. Surely, he must enjoy the same pleasure. Her heart leapt in rampageous objection. He was so hard yet smooth beneath her skin. She remembered his tongue at her breast, the slick texture and tremulous heat of every pass.
He groaned and she shot a glance to his handsome face. For no reason she could explain, her heart overflowed, the intimacy in the moment near unbearable, though too soon he jerked his hips away and drew her attention downward. A glistening drop of moisture slid beneath her fingers right before he forced his shirttail in cover, his body racked with the intensity of his climax.
Had she hurt him? His face looked distressed. Not at all like the blissful leap into pleasure she’d achieved. But no, another minute and he was collected, reclined on the settee with the Devil’s own smile across his face.
‘You’ve taught me a thing or two, haven’t you, my beautiful governess?’ His voice, gravelly and low, combined with his possessive compliment caused gooseflesh to dot her skin. She rubbed her arms to banish the sensation though she kept the words locked tight.
‘I never did anything like that before. I hope it pleased you.’ She waited, his answer important.
‘Indeed, it did.’ He gently pulled her into his embrace, his warm sigh feathered against her hair. ‘In ways I’ve never imagined.’
Chapter Seventeen
Sleep came easily to Georgina. She’d left Luke after a tender kiss and scurried upstairs, thankful the house was silent in the late hour and that Vivienne had offered them privacy. She made quick work of plaiting her hair and changing into her night rail before closing her eyes, a contented smile on her face. Sweet dreams lay in store to entertain through the night. Her body, sated and drowsy, contained a synergetic purr like a lightning bolt captured in a jar. It fascinated and thrilled, but exhausted all the same.
It had to be near dawn when her dreams took a drastic turn. She awoke, her breathing harsh, palms damp and brow perspired. Swallowing past the dread of fear in her throat, she sat up and willed herself to calm. Images of an ever-present nightmare flickered into being. A vivid remembrance of how he’d pawed at her body, sealed his mouth over hers, more to cover a scream than show affection. Yet she remained trapped, unable to escape.
With rash urgency, she yanked her thoughts in another direction, desperate to distract, and discovered a different conundrum, her sister’s situation, at the ready to take the lead. How could her parents attach Joy to such a vulgar, disrespectful man? And why would Joy consent to keep Lord Muller’s company? Georgina had fled home to solve the problem, but from her brief glimpse of her parents’ house, it appeared her sister had now become positioned in the same distasteful spot.
She squeezed her eyes tightly to blot out the conflicting images and wagged her head to beat back the nightmares lurking on the periphery of reality, his unwanted hands on her skin and cruel words in her ear. Snatching a pillow from the mattress, she clutched it to her chest, woefully missing the companionship and comfort Biscuit proffered when she became haunted by unwelcome remembrance. Seeing Joy had spun everything loose, entangling her past life with her current misery. All the emotions she’d tucked away and ignored, preoccupied with Luke’s concerns and their wondrous intimacy, collided and battled for attention. But the tumultuous reality of her unresolved future demanded to be heard. An unexpected stab of remorse accompanied her unconscionable behaviour, not for her family or Biscuit or even for herself. But this time for Luke, and the unequivocal truth that she was falling in love with a man who would never be part of her future.
Luke brushed a hand down his coat sleeve and turned the lock on his way out. He dropped the key to The Underworld into his pocket and relished the dull click as it tapped against the button he now kept there. Georgina’s button. After they’d kissed goodnight and exchanged a few tender words, she’d hurried from the room like an anxious rabbit. While he’d taken a moment to reorder the pillows on the settee, firelight glinted off the pearl button on the floor, a token of their intimacy. Perhaps, a bit of good luck.
Dursley was due to return tomorrow. Earlier, Luke had sent a messenger to the viscount’s house and confirmed, with a bit of financial bribery, that the lord would be in house come the morrow. Now Luke drew a full breath, usually too wary and accustomed to disappointment to imagine Nate within his arms, although today he permitted a mood of anticipation.
Last night’s dalliance, despite Georgina’s kisses and erotic innocence, had nothing to do with his life’s crisis. He’d reclaimed a piece of his soul, which permeated every point of being. Optimism took hold for the first time in a long while, and it could only be Georgina who brought about the change. He almost smiled. Her laughter lived in him still, as dependable and rhythmic as his heartbeat. Still, he refused to consider what would happen after tomorrow and whether or not she’d return to that modest cottage in Coventry.
He carried on with a lighter step for several strides until, halfway down the street, he realized someone followed him. Perhaps nothing more than a hulking footpad who preyed on these parts. Luke didn’t need to turn and inspect the roadway nor stop and double back. Years of street living and desperate survival had honed his skills. Thievery and a strong desire to stay out of Newgate had advanced his ability to an unmatched level.
He continued with a casual gait, though his mind calculated alleyways and options until he pulled a fast turn around the corner of Bolt Street and dipped into a narrow alcove, all but invisible by courtesy of shadow. He spared a low-lidded glance from his concealment.
In less than an instant, a man dressed completely in drab rounded the bend and stopped so abruptly his head jerked at realizing the person he’d followed had all but disappeared. Luke emerged from the alcove swinging. His right fist connected with the stranger’s nose, the crack of bone and immediate spurt of blood confirmation his aim proved accurate. He gathered the man’s shirt in fistfuls and whipped to reverse position, the stranger backed to the brick wall, Luke with the advantage. The interloper struggled to free himself, but it was no use with Luke’s broad shoulders creating a barricade.
‘What do you want?’ Luke gripped the man’s collar tighter. Drops of blood stained the back of his fists while he took inventory of the man’s features. A note of recognition for unexpected happenstance and strange appearances proved he’d seen the stranger before. A thin white scar, jagged and long, extending from one eye socket to where it curved under the man’s chin. At closer inspection, Luke noticed the scar continued down his throat and below the point clenched within his fists. ‘I should pop your cork for good, but you’re bloody ugly enough. Start talking and don’t waste my time.’
‘I got nothing to say,’ the intruder sneered, the crooked angle of broken bone beneath his bruised skin swelling with speed.
‘Don’t be daft, man. I have nowhere to go and plenty of anger to spend. I’ll beat you until you tell me. Why put yourself through it?’ Luke pulled the man away from the wall and, just as quickly, slammed his shoulders with a jolting thrust of control. ‘Let’s not have this dance.’
Something flickered across the stranger’s face, perhaps a decision made.
He spat to the side, blood from his nose having run into his mouth. ‘I was hired to watch, that’s all.’
‘Where’s my son?’ Luke tightened his hold with rising impatience.
‘I don’t know about any lad.’ He shook his head and stopped abruptly, the pain he’d invited reflected in his grimace. ‘I get paid to watch and report. Nothing more.’
‘Stay away from me. And don’t bother reporting to Dursley or whoever lines your pockets. If I find you’re somehow connected to my son’s disappearance, I’ll finish the job I started today.’ He shoved the stranger to the ground. ‘I’m all in this time. This time the bastard makes the rules.’
Georgina rose the next morning and stretched, anxious to shake away the lingering remnant of the nightmare which clung with ill ease. A hot bath would feel heavenly. She rang for the upstairs housemaid, startled when the servant appeared so rapidly one would think the girl waited outside the door for Georgina to awaken.
Lifting a brush from the vanity, she strode to the window to unbraid her hair and remove the tangles while the copper tub filled with steaming-hot water in the bathing room adjoined to the bedchamber. The slosh of water promised soothing remedy and she immediately vanquished perturbable memories. In exchange, she called forth the divine remembrance of Luke’s hands on her body the evening prior. A secret smile curled her lips as she dismissed the servants and retrieved her soap and towel before she climbed in for a much-needed soak.
The bath did not disappoint. She lowered her body, the fragrant water soothing away muscle ache and heartache in equal measure. She dropped her head back to rest on the rim and closed her eyes with appreciation as a light knock struck the door. Had the maid forgotten something? Georgina couldn’t imagine what that could be. Everything seemed prescribed to perfection.
‘Good morning.’
Vivienne’s voice broke through the silence of the bathing room and Georgina bolted up, catching herself at the last moment and crossing her arms over her breasts, despite the soapy water lent a murky veil of modesty.
‘Good morning.’ Georgina stuttered a greeting, though curiosity undercut felicitation. ‘Would you like me to find you at breakfast?’ Awkward feelings of exposure and defencelessness battled, prompting her to suggest an alternative to the present situation.
Vivienne spared a brief smile. ‘This is fine. I hope you don’t mind my intrusion. I’ll confess having a captive audience will serve this discussion well.’
Georgina swallowed past her sense of trepidation. Wasn’t Vivienne a new friend? Whatever she meant to say must be something of importance and privacy, although there was no mistaking, even with her increasing belly and motherhood glow, the woman embodied a formidable force. ‘Yes. I’m listening.’ Georgina lowered her arms from where she’d barricaded her chest and eased lower into the water, no longer aware of the comfort the bath offered.
‘I thought we should talk about Luke since he arrived in quite a temper last evening.’
Georgina could do little more than wait. Vivienne clearly had an agenda.
‘I consider him a dear friend who has suffered too much. In truth, all three men have endured tremendous hardship from their childhood years through adulthood and they have grown stronger for it.’ She paused and sat on the velvet stool before the vanity, her action causing Georgina to relax by degree. ‘But Luke is vulnerable and a little lost.’ Vivienne touched her stomach gently and her palm smoothed over the swell of her expectancy. ‘I cannot imagine the pain of being separated from one’s child. Luke hides it well most days, but then there are times when the agony is etched all over his fine features. He may say or do things that are provoked from his sense of loss.’ She paused and glanced in Georgina’s direction as if she expected a reply.
‘So you are here to warn me?’ she answered cautiously.
‘Not exactly. Luke would like nothing better than for everyone to believe he is well. I’m certain you’ve seen through his charade of strength and indifference.’ Vivienne’s expression showed genuine sympathy.
‘You mean to protect me then?’
‘Yes. We’re becoming friends, are we not?’ At this, Vivienne flashed a tight smile. ‘But do not misunderstand – I am here to protect him more.’
Georgina hadn’t expected that response and she looked away for a brief moment. How well did Vivienne know her for that matter? How much did she know of Luke and her interaction?
Vivienne elaborated before Georgina could think on it further.
‘Please do not hurt him. Sometimes in the path of life, we don’t realize how careless moments and reckless decisions can impact others. Luke has had little, too little of what others take for granted and decide is their right. But having a history does not preclude him from happiness. He is deserving of the same hopeful future as you.’ Tears showed in the corner of Vivienne’s eyes and she blinked them away.
‘You think I would hurt him intentionally?’ Georgina couldn’t keep appalled disappointment from her question.
‘No.’ Vivienne paused. ‘I know you’re a kind person. Travelling to London and incurring inconvenience at Luke’s request speaks highly of your character.’
‘So this is because you wish to match Luke with Sophie?’ The question, stark and bold, spoken in the quiet bathing room, echoed with a hundred implications. It ordinarily lurked in the shadows of topics Georgina politely ignored in deference to the sharp emotion the answer evoked, but now it stood alone, out in the open.
‘No. Although I believe Sophie and Luke have shared interests, one cannot instruct love the way you might teach mathematics. Love listens to no one but itself. A power, when found, that trumps all others despite high stakes or imaginable risk.’
‘It sounds as if you speak of the games at The Underworld.’
Vivienne laughed. ‘The comparison can be made, most certainly.’ Her tone became more serious. ‘But above all, I wish for Luke to be happy. I hope you understand this conversation comes from my friendship with you both, and my loyalty to Luke’s future.’
‘He is very fortunate to call you friend. Your devotion is admirable,’ Georgina replied sincerely. She wouldn’t confess she’d developed deep feelings for the man or that his happiness was paramount to her in kind. ‘I hope someday you will think of me with similar regard.’ Alas, that would be hard to accomplish were she to continue to hide away in Coventry.
‘Of course, although what you label loyalty may just be selfishness on my part. Having no other relations, Luke, Cole and Gemma are my family. Their children will grow with mine.’ Vivienne rose from the stool and moved towards the door. ‘Now, enjoy a good soak. I’ve found a hot bath can be magical when my mind is busy with too many thoughts.’
She slipped from the room without another word leaving Georgina to ponder all that was left unsaid.
By the time she’d dressed and prepared for the day, she’d resolved to seek out Joy and confront her sister about Lord Muller. Georgina also decided to end her personal turmoil. How could she proceed with life, make choices and live happily, if she ran from the largest impediment?
Aware the manner of the household was molded by business at The Underworld, she found the downstairs quiet and dashed a note for Vivienne by the hallway salver before leaving Manchester Square on foot. Her parents’ home wasn’t in walking distance, but she welcomed the opportunity to take some air and clear her mind. She purposely left behind her bonnet, accepting the reality she might be noticed and wondering on another level altogether, if the incident occurred, whether or not it would present a relief more than a conundrum. Any withering fear that existed did not materialize.
By way of hackney, she arrived at the mouth of St James’s Park with the intent to find her sister near the garden suburb. It was nothing more than a vast stretch of lawn, flora and hedges boxed in by green pollarded trees, situated near Parliament Hill, untouched and devoted to naturalists and the like, where her sister favoured her hobby of collecting feathers. Joy had become interested in feather w
ork after a stark realization the art of watercolours demanded time and dedication. Joy was unwilling to surrender her social calendar, yet a promising debutante needs some diversion to banter about while waiting for the next waltz. Collecting pretty feathers and arranging them into pictures affixed to canvas was a noncritical, if not absorbing, pastime. Were anyone to visit their home, Joy’s ornithological-inspired masterpieces graced the walls. Georgina had a composition of two swans hanging near the nightstand in her bedchamber.
A ping of remorse accompanied the memory, but with luck and persistence she’d find her sister here today, keeping her usual morning schedule. In the meantime, she’d consider options for confronting her parents and deterring Lord Muller’s inappropriate proposition. As much as she enjoyed the safe haven of Coventry, with its provincial charm and neighbourly warmth, her heart yearned for London. She’d shut away the desire but it beckoned to her now in a loud voice. Her decision to flee the city was one of cowardice. To never see her family again? Unquestionable and unacceptable. Truly, what had she accomplished by running?
Dropping her eyes to the ground, she noticed a slender blue plume left behind by a visiting jay or bunting, and crouched to collect it, placing it in her skirt pocket as a talisman before she advanced further into the lawns. She skimmed her eyes across the horizon, past Birdcage Walk and its dignified gatekeeper, along The Mall and extensive opulence of Queen’s Square, and caught her breath in reminiscence. She turned a slow circle to take it all in, a deep breath of London proper, where she belonged. The city hadn’t changed overmuch, but she had, in more ways than she could count at the moment.
The Last Gamble Page 17