“How am I to become an investigator like you if I can’t learn from your cases?”
“You want to be an investigator like me?” Ambrose’s brow furrowed, his gaze shifting to Marianne. She just smiled and shrugged.
“Yes, I do,” Edward affirmed, “and what is more, Freddy and I have decided to open an agency together. When we’re a bit older, of course.”
“Of course,” his father said solemnly. “Until Fredward and Associates comes to fruition, however, I’m afraid you’ll have to occupy yourself with something more suited to your age. Spillikins or quoits, for instance.”
“But Papa—”
“Boys,” Harry interrupted, “I’ve a new invention I want to test out in the garden. Care to lend me a hand?”
The boys looked at Harry and then at each other.
“Yes, please,” Fredward said as one.
“C’mon then.” Harry waved them to the door, and they scampered out.
Then he crooked a finger at Violet, Polly, and Primrose.
The girls groaned in unison.
“We’re not children, Harry,” Violet said, crossing her arms. “You can’t distract us by simply dangling a carrot.”
“No? What about this then?” Withdrawing a leather pouch from his pocket, Harry let it swing enticingly by the strings. “I guarantee it’s something none of you have ever seen before. It’ll be a spectacle for the ages. Men would sell their soul to see it.”
The three girls consulted amongst themselves. Then they, too, got to their feet and headed for the door.
“Gadzooks, you’ve better showmanship than the ringmaster at Astley’s,” Violet grumbled as she passed him. “This had better live up to your claims.”
Thea smiled at her younger brother. “Thank you, Harry. Out of curiosity, what is in the bag?”
“A new substance I’m tinkering with. Chemically, it’s similar to gunpowder,” Harry said, “but with a bit more oomph.”
The door closed behind him.
Strathaven looked at his duchess. “Should we worry about the neighbors?”
“If we hear an explosion, yes,” Emma said.
“Before Harry blows us all to smithereens, I suggest we return to the case at hand.” Ambrose tented his fingers in front of him. “There are a few new facts I’d like to share. As it turns out, you were right, Thea.”
“About what?” Emma said.
“The state of Davenport’s finances,” Ambrose replied. “At Tremont’s request, I spoke with Davenport’s father-in-law, Mr. George Clemens, this morning. I gave him the barest details, keeping identities anonymous. A sharp man, Clemens, worthy of his reputation as London’s brightest solicitor. He was shocked at the nature of Davenport’s activities, but not with the character of his former son-in-law. He said he never trusted Davenport’s suit of his daughter, but when Lady Davenport threatened to elope, he relented and gave in. Not, however, without protecting her interests first.”
“He created a trust for her?” Thea said.
Ambrose nodded.
“How did you know that, Thea?” her sister wanted to know.
“At Lady Davenport’s luncheon, Gabby told me that Mr. Clemens had helped her father to set up a trust to protect her inheritance from fortune hunters,” Thea explained. “When Davenport said he didn’t have access to his wife’s fortune, I put two and two together.”
“Through brilliant legal maneuvering, Clemens managed to fool Davenport into signing the trust. Under its terms, Davenport has no access to the bulk of his wife’s fortune. She could withdraw from her accounts, but Clemens put limits on that too. If anything should happen to her, the money went to the designee of the trust, a distant cousin. Killing her would accomplish nothing for Davenport; in fact, he’d lose the use of her generous quarterly spending account.”
“Mr. Clemens thought of everything,” Thea said.
“He loves his daughter very much. Indeed, he wished to express his gratitude to the anonymous benefactor,”—Ambrose’s eyes crinkled at the corners—“who rid her of her dastardly husband.”
“All’s well that ends well,” Marianne murmured.
“As to that, any news on Heath?” Kent asked Gabriel.
Gabriel nodded. “Malcolm and I spoke to the magistrates. They’re releasing him.”
“Not that Heath seemed too overjoyed about it. Poor chap’s not in his right mind.” John Malcolm—formerly known as Marius—spoke for the first time.
Thea liked Gabriel’s old friend. Especially since Gabriel had admitted to her privately that he understood why Malcolm had faked his own death all those years ago. Malcolm had only wanted to escape the nightmare of espionage and hadn’t realized that Gabriel would be wracked with guilt over his death.
Malcolm had apologized; Gabriel had accepted.
The two had come to terms with the past.
“The opium’s not helping,” Gabriel said soberly. “I hope Heath will take our advice to heart. Try for a fresh start with a clear head.”
“I’ll be here to keep him in line if he doesn’t.” Malcolm’s countenance was set into determined lines. “It’ll be just like the old days, only without the spying, killing, and betrayal.”
“I’ll be here, too,” Gabriel said.
Thea smiled, and when Gabriel looked over at her, she saw that the shadows had lifted from his eyes. One by one, his ghosts were being vanquished.
Just then, there was a knock on the door, and Jarvis entered to inform them that Lady Blackwood had arrived. She swept into the room a minute later, wearing a dashing aubergine-and-cream striped carriage dress. Thea noted, however, the slight redness of Pandora’s eyes and the puffiness underneath.
Going over to her, Thea said worriedly, “Has something happened?”
Instead of answering, Pandora absently kissed the air near Thea’s cheeks. “I’m here because I received Tremont’s note this morning. I had to come see for myself.” Her gaze landed on Malcolm, who’d stepped forward. “So Tremont wasn’t hallucinating after all.”
“Hello, Pandora.” Malcolm bent over her hand. “It is a pleasure to see you again.”
“It is a shock to see you.” Despite her tart words, there was a catch in Pandora’s voice that she couldn’t quite hide. “To think, I may have shed a tear or two over your demise. Where have you been hiding all these years?”
“In places you wouldn’t care to know about, my lady.” There was humor in Malcolm’s faded blue eyes. “Now that you’re a marchioness, I’m sure you don’t want to be rubbing elbows with us common riffraff.”
Pandora’s violet eyes shimmered. Her lips trembled.
“I meant no offense,” Malcolm said hastily. “’Twas a jest—”
“No, it’s nothing you said.” Pandora allowed Thea to lead her to an empty chair. Her face crumpling, she said, “It’s my marriage. I think… it is over.”
“What happened?” Thea said with concern.
“Blackwood knows everything. About my past.” Between halting breaths, Pandora said, “Cicero, the bastard, couldn’t resist a final act of destruction. He sent my husband an anonymous letter, and it arrived this morning.”
“How dastardly of him.” Crouching, Thea took the other woman’s hands. “But perhaps honesty is not the worst thing that could happen. Surely if you clear the air now—”
“It’s too late.” Tears tracked down Pandora’s cheeks. “He’s left me. He had his valet pack his things, and he left Town. I don’t even know where.”
“Perhaps he needs time to cool his heels. And his head.” This came from Gabriel, who brought Thea to her feet, his arm around her waist. “We men sometimes let our tempers get the better of us.”
“Not my husband. He’s a proud, loyal, good man.” Pandora took the handkerchief Thea offered and dabbed at her eyes. “And I’ve deceived him from the start.”
Heart wrenching, Thea turned to Gabriel. “Can’t you speak to Blackwood, darling?”
“Me?” He looked as appalled as a stoic
man could look.
“You and Mr. Malcolm together. You were her colleagues, after all,” Thea said encouragingly. “Surely if the two of you pled Pandora’s case, told her husband what a true heroine she was during the war, he’d listen.”
“If he doesn’t shoot us dead first,” Malcolm muttered. “Trust me, no man wants to hear about his wife’s past from other men.”
“But we’ll do it.” Gabriel cleared his throat. “If you wish us to, Pandora.”
“Thank you, but no. I made this mess, and it’s up to me to fix it.” The marchioness sat up straight, her face tear-stained but determined. “I shall find a way to win my husband back.”
“You always were a fighter,” Malcolm said, “and a damned fine one at that.”
“Enough of my woes. Let us talk of happier news.” With determined cheer, she said, “When is the wedding to take place?”
Gabriel’s arm tightened around Thea’s waist. “Next Saturday.”
“You’re invited,” Thea hastened to say. “Everyone here is. We haven’t gotten around to invitations given… well…”
“You’ve been a bit busy.” Pandora’s tone was dry.
“You’ll come, won’t you?” Thea said anxiously. “Pandora? Malcolm?”
“To see our old boy embark upon the most important mission of his life?” Malcolm winked. “We wouldn’t miss it for all the secrets in the world, my dear.”
Chapter Forty-One
A week later, Gabriel knocked, and the sound of Thea’s lovely voice giving him entrance filled him with satisfaction. Anticipation simmered in his blood. Beneath his silk dressing gown, he was already hard for his wife. His love.
Opening the adjoining door, he entered the lavish chamber done in shades of ivory and gold. He’d secured them the finest suite at Mivart’s for their wedding night. There wasn’t to be much of a honeymoon trip as they were heading back to Oakhurst in three days, so he thought they could make do with a weekend stay at the hotel. The Strathavens had offered to look after Freddy, so that Gabriel and Thea could have time alone.
Gabriel intended to make the most of the time. His chest warmed at the pretty picture Thea made combing her hair before the vanity. She looked like a princess in her snowy robe with a fall of lace at the neckline and cuffs, her hair a shining cascade down her back. When he went to stand behind her, she smiled at him in the looking glass.
He threaded his fingers through her luxuriant tresses. “I like your hair down, Lady Tremont,” he murmured. “Especially since I’m the only man who gets to see it this way.”
“Possessive, are you?” Her eyes twinkled up at him.
“You know that I am.” He took the brush from her hands. “And you know that you love it.”
Her blush was a glorious thing, sunset spreading up her smooth white throat and porcelain cheeks. He ran the bristles through her locks, savoring the way she shivered at his touch.
The domesticity of the moment struck him. He was combing his wife’s hair. He wasn’t holding a blade, pistol, or instrument of killing; that time was finally over. Because of Thea, he was finally getting his fresh start. And he was determined to begin this chapter right.
“Goodness, that’s nice.” She sighed, her neck arching a little. “The wedding went well, don’t you think?”
“Hmm,” he said absently.
He was searching for words, the best way to share the results of his soul-searching over the past few days. Intimacy still didn’t come easily for him; perhaps it never would. For Thea, however, he was willing to try. Willing, in truth, to do anything.
“My favorite part was the throwing of the bouquet. Did you see Violet’s face when she caught it?” Thea chuckled. “She looked like she’d bitten into a lemon.”
Amused in spite of himself, he said, “Didn’t she want to catch it?”
“She wanted to win. This will teach her that there are consequences to being competitive.” Thea swiveled around to look at him. “Which was your favorite part of the wedding?”
“The part that made you my wife.” He set the brush down with a decisive click. “Thea, there’s something I wish to discuss.”
“Yes?”
“I wanted to tell you… you were right.” He let out a breath. “About Sylvia.”
Color stained her cheeks; her gaze slid away. “We don’t have to talk about the past. It was wrong of me to pry about your marriage that time and—”
“No, love.” He tipped her chin up, and the embarrassment in her eyes made him want to kick himself. “You’ve done nothing wrong. Of course you wanted to talk about my past. I’m sorry I was a bastard about it. The truth is I don’t want anything between us. Not even old secrets.”
Her smile almost reached her eyes. Gave him the courage to go on.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said, about my keeping Sylvia on a pedestal, and I’ve come to realize that you were right.” He rubbed the back of his neck, admitted gruffly, “It was the only way to connect with her. She was so ladylike, so… untouchable. I never felt like I deserved her.”
“You were a good husband to her,” Thea said softly.
“I thought I loved her, but I realize now that I loved an idea of perfection that wasn’t real. Or maybe it was real, but it wasn’t what I truly wanted. What I needed.” He let go of the final truth. “It never made me happy.”
“Oh, Gabriel.” Thea’s eyes shimmered. “I’m sorry.”
“No, princess, don’t be. Don’t you see?” Going down on one knee, he cupped her precious face in his hands. “I know what happiness is now because of you. Because you’ve shown me that my desires and who I am are worthy of acceptance. Your sweet love and wanton passion have made me whole, brought me the peace that I never thought to find. You’ve freed me from my curse.”
Two droplets spilled from her eyes, but he thought they were tears of joy.
“You’re everything I’ve ever wanted,” she said with a sniffle. “I love you so much.”
“As I love you, my dearest wife,” he said.
Their lips met in a tender, searing kiss. He tasted salt and sweetness, the addicting contrast of cherished bride and sultry lover, the seamless interweaving of love and desire. One thing led to another, and before he knew it, he’d lifted her onto the vanity, her back against the glass, his lips wandering down her elegant throat. One tug of her belt, and her robe parted, slipping off her shoulders to reveal a garment that made his temperature spike. Made of powder blue satin and creamy lace, the slip plunged deeply over her bosom and had no sleeves. It was held up by a satin bow on each shoulder.
He slid his finger under one bow. “I like this,” he murmured.
“I thought you might.”
His hands skimmed the lithe curve of her hips. “Actually, I’d prefer you in nothing at all.”
“I think that can be arranged as well.”
“Minx.” Holding her eyes, he took a step back. “Take it off for me, then.”
There was no hesitation in her gaze. Just love and feminine desire. A breathtaking acceptance that he would remember for the rest of his life. In a graceful movement, she slid off the vanity. Standing, she tugged first on one bow and then the other. The satin cascaded off her skin like a wave, pooling at her feet. A dewy flush spread over her creamy skin, and she kept her eyes on his. Innocent and sensuous, she was his own Aphrodite rising from the sea.
Tonight he would claim her fully.
Wonder and lust flowed through him. In a smooth motion, he lifted her into his arms and carried her over to the canopied bed. He lay her on the satin sheets and just feasted on the sight of her. She was delight in every aspect, her hair spread in a decadent fan, her nipples hard and blushing coral, gilded floss peeping between her slender thighs.
Kneeling on the bed, he bent and kissed her soft mouth. “You’re so beautiful, my princess in the tower.”
Her smile brimmed with seductive promise. “But I’m no longer in a tower, am I?”
“No. You’re right h
ere with me,” he said huskily. “Where you belong.”
As he said the words, the need to claim his prize overwhelmed him. He kissed her throat, its vital warmth leaping beneath his tongue. Her breasts came next, the pouting peaks begging for his attention. He lingered there, licking and suckling her tits, captivated by her moans, her abandoned response to his loving. Then the other fragrant hills and valleys of her beckoned, and he continued his journey downward.
He worked his way along the graceful length of one leg, savoring her silky skin. He discovered that she was ticklish behind her knee, her infectious giggles making him grin. This playfulness was new to him, a delightful ease that somehow complemented the intensity of his feelings. He kissed her sweet calf, the delicate turn of her ankle, the instep of her dainty foot. When he sucked one toe into his mouth, her laughter gave way to a sultry gasp.
He kissed each and every one of her pretty little toes.
Then he made his way up along the inside of her other leg, reaching her shy petals. His heart thumped as he found her wet and delicately swollen. Parting her, he eased two fingers inside, groaning at the snug clasp of her pussy. Her hips arched in supplication, and he had to make sure she was completely ready for him this first time.
Besides, his mouth watered for a taste of his wife.
Burying his head between her thighs, he ate her cunny with all the ravening need inside him. Her scent maddened him, as did her flavor, rich and heady as the finest wine. Sighs left her as he stabbed his tongue deeply. He diddled her pearl while he fucked her this way, and her hands clenched his hair, urging him on. She stiffened, her passage rippling around his tongue, her lips chanting his name.
“So good,” he muttered thickly. “Come for me, sweeting.”
As her climax broke, he tore off his robe. His erection was huge, dripping at the tip. Leaning over her, he notched the flaring head to her slit and drove slowly forward. A groan ripped from his chest. Hot, tight bliss—a pleasure that merged body and soul, that obliterated everything he’d known before. He felt her virgin cunny stretching to accommodate him, flowering around the meat of his shaft, and he knew that he’d come home at last.
M Is for Marquess Page 29