He slid his trousers and drawers off as she settled onto the bed. His throat went dry when she slid back and lifted onto her elbows to watch him.
“You’re quite lovely too,” she whispered.
He climbed onto the bed, holding her gaze. “I’m glad you think so.”
“Everyone thinks so.” She hissed out the last word because he’d begun to draw his fingers up her leg, all the way to her inner thigh.
“But you see,” he told her as he stroked a finger into the damp heated curls at her center, “I only care that you think so.”
When he slid a finger inside her heat, she arched against him and let her head fall back. There was such trust in the movement that something inside him melted.
He bent his head and replaced his fingers with his mouth, kissing and licking until she bucked against him. He loved the taste of her on his tongue, the way her body trembled and arched against him. She scraped her fingers along his shoulder, then sank them into his hair.
“Rhys,” she said softly, lovingly. Then again with more need.
He knew the moment she was close. Already, he knew her body and her sounds well enough to know, and he loved every second of feeling her body go taut.
“Let go, love,” he whispered against her. “I’ve got you.”
When she did, Rhys lifted up to watch her face. To watch the moment she let control slip away and gave in to her release. When her breathing steadied, she reached for him, pulling at his shoulders, and he settled between her legs.
“I need you,” she whispered on a shaky breath.
The words slipped inside him, soothed over pain, filled hollow spaces.
“I need you,” he said as he eased into her and told himself to go slow, to savor every second.
But Bella refused to let him take her slowly. She set the pace, moving against him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and lifting up to kiss him. Her kiss was deep and hungry and when she nipped his lower lip, he couldn’t hold back any longer.
He wanted her desperately, not just to please her but to get closer to her, past all of the defenses she’d built up against him. Past all the rules and propriety that she believed she needed in order to keep others at bay.
Before he tipped over the edge, she whispered against his skin. The same words she’d spoken at the cottage in Margate. “It’s always been you.”
He kissed her and then said against her lips, “I love you, Arry.” The words came unbidden because he couldn’t resist them anymore.
She stroked his hair, his back, nuzzled against him as he settled beside her.
That was enough. He told himself that having her in his arms was enough. But, God, did he want her to give those words back to him.
Bella woke with a start and squinted in the darkness. Not her room. Realization came and brought a wave of relief. Rhys’s home. His bedroom.
She slid her hand slowly across the sheet and encountered the hot firm stretch of his body next to her. From his slow steady breathing, she knew he was asleep. She waited for her eyes to adjust and leaned closer so she could get a better look at him.
Good heavens he was a gorgeous man. Even his profile made her yearn to touch him, kiss him. She was sorely tempted to lie back down, wrap her arms around him, and go back to sleep.
She didn’t want to wake him yet, but she couldn’t bear to leave without brushing a kiss against his shoulder.
On the way to the door, she gathered her chemise and gown. Before stepping into the hall, she donned both and buttoned herself in as well as she was able.
Her thoughts were a jumble. Her feelings were a muddle. She needed to think.
I love you.
How long had she yearned to hear those words? How long had she ached to hear him say those three words? Yes, it had been at the pinnacle of his passion, at a moment when his body was in fact loving hers. But she couldn’t convince herself it was just hyperbole born of a heated moment.
Bella headed down the stairs, but she had no idea where she might find a conservatory or a room where she could surreptitiously open a window. Stepping out of the front door was likely the best option but with her luck she’d end up locked out and on the darkened streets of Belgravia in nothing but an unbuttoned gown and a chemise.
Servants approached, chatting to each other as they walked side by side, and Bella panicked. She pushed open the door of the closest room and looked around curiously. It seemed to be a study or library, almost as well stocked as her father’s.
Though the servants passed quickly, Bella lingered in the room.
While Rhys had quite eclectic tastes in decor, this room was far more reflective of his father. Stern, unwelcoming, and a bit too cluttered to be truly appealing. She found she missed feeling a sense of Rhys in the room.
One thing was for certain. Rhys’s father had been as fascinated with maps as her own. There were no landscapes or framed portraits on the walls. Only maps. One of Essex and the county where Edgecombe sat, one that encompassed all of the British Isles and Ireland, and several London maps.
She drew closer to the largest London map that took up most of one wall. The image was very focused in, showing streets and squares and a few landmarks. Bella traced her finger down roads and found Belgravia, Buckingham Palace, Hyde Park, and then she looked closer and began searching.
Bishopsgate.
Recalling the scrap of paper they’d found in the fireplace in Margate, she searched for any street name that started with a B. It had to be Bury Street. Mr. Radley would likely be there. Unless, of course, Rhys was right and he’d hied off to France.
“I woke and you were gone.”
Bella turned to find Rhys in the doorway wearing only trousers and his unbuttoned shirt.
“I didn’t want to disturb you. I thought I’d explore.”
“And what did you find?” He still hovered at the doorway, and she hated the wariness in his tone.
“The street where Mr. Radley might be residing, I think. Remember the scrap of paper? We have the house number, unless there was a part missing.” She pointed to the map. “And this must be the street.”
He approached until they were shoulder to shoulder and stared at the point near her finger.
“Bury Street. I’ll send a note to Inspector Macadams.”
“No.” Bella hadn’t meant to shout but didn’t regret emphasizing her protest.
“We started the search for him together. That clue we found at Margate, we found together. Contact Inspector Macadams if you like, but I think we should finish it together.”
“You’re determined.”
“I am.”
“Then we’ll go,” he told her, and covered her hand on his arm with his own. “We should go back to the Tremaynes’ too. They’ll be worried about you.”
Bella leaned closer to him. “They needn’t be. I’m in good hands.”
There was an uncertainty in his gaze that she wanted to soothe, but she couldn’t bring herself to say the words he wished to hear. It wasn’t that she didn’t feel them. Of course she did. She always had. But they terrified her now.
“Bella—” He frowned as he watched her and that often indicated that he was seeing something she hadn’t meant to reveal. Over the years, she’d become quite certain Rhys could read her thoughts.
“Tomorrow?” she asked him to keep them from treading old ground. She couldn’t give him what he yearned to hear from her.
“That will be fine. I’ll have a servant take a note around to Scotland Yard.”
“Excellent.” She smiled and then lifted onto her toes to kiss him. “We can resolve this once and for all.”
Her pulse quickened but it wasn’t because of the way Rhys kissed her back. That was delicious and warmed her blood. No, the fluttering pulse at her neck came because of fear.
Tomorrow they might very well find Mr. Radley. The matter of the ducal accounts might be resolved. She’d helped Meg prepare for her Season and now the Duchess of Tremayne had stepped in t
o assist with that task. If all went as planned, her parents would soon be on their way to Greece.
Then what?
Soon there would no longer be any point in their ruse. No reasons to be seen in each other’s company or slip away to Claremont House to make love.
Rhys would go back to his life and she would resume hers.
What frightened her was that she couldn’t imagine that independent life she’d so longed for anymore.
She couldn’t imagine any future that didn’t include him, and she feared giving in to that yearning too.
Chapter Twenty-One
Rhys had never seen Bella so anxious. She sat opposite him in his carriage but she hadn’t cast him a glance in a quarter of an hour. Her gaze was fixed out the window at a house a few doors down the street.
“Macadams knows what time we intended to be here?” she asked, her voice an octave higher and revealing every ounce of her irritation.
“He’ll be here. I’m certain. We were early, Bella.”
“To thwart a thief, one should be a step ahead, don’t you think?” She glanced at him but far too briefly.
“Since this is my first foray into criminal hunting, I really couldn’t say.”
That seemed to deflate a bit of her anxiousness. She let out a sigh and turned to face him.
“You’re right, of course. I’m no detective inspector from Scotland Yard.”
“Not yet anyway.”
She grinned at that and he felt lighter for the first time all morning. But the ease between them faded because a moment later she was staring out the window again, chewing at her bottom lip nervously.
“Perhaps I should knock on the door and see if he’s even there.”
“Mostly definitely not.”
“I don’t fear him.”
“If we go up to that door, we’re doing it together.”
She huffed out a sigh. “We did this at Mrs. Turner’s. You’ve met him. If he sees you, he’ll know the jig is up and bolt.”
Rhys laughed. “The jig is up? Have you been spending time with Macadams that I’m not aware of?”
“No, I read it in a detective novel.” She cast him an odd look. “I’m going in.” Even before the words were out, she’d opened the door of the carriage and stepped down onto the pavement.
“Bella, stop.”
But she didn’t.
Rhys was out of the carriage almost as quick as she was, but before he could make it down the pavement to catch up, she was knocking at the door.
He waited to see if anyone answered. As he did, he heard a carriage rattle to a stop behind him. A moment later, footsteps approached.
“Your Grace, I didn’t expect to find you here.” Macadams was breathless and cast a harried look at Rhys.
The note Rhys had sent the man had been short, as all his written correspondence was, only laying out the details of what they’d found. He’d made no mention of him and Bella being present when Macadams investigated the address.
“My fiancée is a very determined woman.” Rhys kept his gaze fixed on Bella as she rapped again on the front door.
“My God, is that the lady?” Macadams stared at her in horror. “She can’t simply strut up to the man’s door. Is she mad?”
Macadams started barreling toward her, but Rhys stopped him with an arm across the man’s chest.
“Watch your tongue, Inspector, when you speak of my future duchess.” Rhys spared the man one quick glower. “She’s not mad. Simply stubborn as hell and damnably curious.”
“Do you allow her to rush into danger often, Your Grace?”
Rhys ignored the man and turned back toward Bella.
“We should let Macadams do this,” he told her.
“He isn’t the one who found this address,” she whispered while giving the Scotland Yard detective a single glance of acknowledgment. “We did.”
“And if Radley is armed?”
“You should listen to the duke, Miss Prescott.” Macadams had shuffled up beside them and assessed the building through narrowed eyes.
“I listen to him often, Mr. Macadams.” Bella stared at Rhys pointedly. “And he trusts my judgment. Don’t you?”
“I—” Rhys was saved from answering, because at that precise moment the dark green door of number 32 creaked open and a man’s head emerged and then retreated. A moment later the door slammed shut.
In his periphery, Rhys saw a flash of black and then Macadams rushed past him toward the front door. He knocked firmly with the edge of his fist.
“Come out. We know you’re in there.”
Beside Rhys, Bella sighed heavily and approached Macadams.
“Let me try, Detective?”
The man cast a one-arched-brow glance at Rhys and then stepped back, grumbling under his breath the whole time.
Bella rapped on the door with her knuckles. “Pardon me, sir. Might we have a few words with you?” Her voice was firm but pleasant, the opposite of Macadams’s gruff shout.
Rhys feared they’d have to pry the door open or that the man was devising an escape out the back while they lingered in front.
Then the door latch twisted, shocking all of them. The door slid open slowly and a man emerged, stopping just at the threshold.
Rhys could only truly see his profile as he looked down and assessed Bella. He hated that she was in the middle of this and that the man stood ogling her, but he only needed one glimpse to know. He’d discarded his spectacles and wore his hair longer but Rhys recognized him without a doubt.
Turning, he offered Macadams a nod. “It’s him.”
Rhys spoke the words quietly, but they seemed to draw Radley’s notice. He frowned at the sight of Rhys and then his expression turned to rage when he spotted Macadams.
The detective held out his hands, palms up. “Easy now, Radley.”
Radley offered them a smug smirk, and Rhys wanted to clap the man in irons himself. He strode forward to confront him.
Radley grabbed Bella’s arm, yanked her inside, and slammed the door shut.
Rhys broke into a run to beat Macadams to the door. He twisted the latch but the door had been locked. He pounded hard enough to rattle the ground floor windows.
“Open up, Radley.”
“Let me, Your Grace.”
With far more patience than Rhys could ever muster, Macadams removed two implements from his coat and bent to inspect the door’s lock. He stuck one long needlelike implement inside and slid the other in beside it.
“Hurry, man.” Rhys couldn’t hear any voices coming from the house. His blood pounded so loudly in his ears, he wasn’t sure he could hear anything else. The thought of Bella alone with the man made his stomach turn.
“Got it,” Macadams said.
Rhys reached above him and slammed the door open wide.
He couldn’t see anything. The hall before him was pitch-dark and he scanned every inch for her.
“Bella?” His heart was in his throat as he strode in, pushing open doors. “Bella!”
Desperation clawed at him as he shouted her name. He didn’t give a damn about Radley anymore. Only she mattered.
He heard her cry out and his blood froze in his veins. He kicked the next door open and it slammed against the wall. Inside, Radley stood with Bella, his hand gripping her arm.
Rhys raised a fist and stepped forward to strike the man. All he could see was red and the fear in Bella’s eyes.
“It’s all right,” she said, lifting a hand as if to stall Rhys. “He says he needs to explain.”
But Radley didn’t look interested in explanations. His face was twisted in anger and he seemed to reserve most of it for Rhys.
“There he is,” the man spat. “The infamous Duke of Claremont.”
“Take your hands off of her. Now.”
Bella twisted out of the man’s grasp and Radley had enough sense to release her.
“What is it you have to say, Radley?” Rhys moved closer to Bella.
“Stop right th
ere, Your Grace.” Radley reached for Bella’s wrist again.
She winced in pain and Rhys advanced on the man, striking him with one sharp jab. Bella twisted out of his hold the minute Radley covered his bloody nose with both hands.
Drawing her to the far corner of the room, Rhys wrapped an arm around Bella’s shoulders.
“Are you all right?” He cupped her face in his hands and only breathed easy again when she nodded.
“You see what he did to me, copper?” Radley shouted. “Assaulted in my own home.”
Macadams stepped into the room, glowering like a headmaster come to chastise rowdy students. “That will be enough, gentlemen. You’ll be coming with me, Mr. Radley.”
Rhys wanted to leave the rest to Macadams. Let him put the man in irons. They could ask Radley questions at Scotland Yard. But when he turned to leave, Bella stopped him.
“Wait,” she told Rhys, then turned to Radley. “Why did you take Claremont money?” Bella started to approach the man again.
Rhys wrapped an arm around her waist to stop her. “Macadams can deal with him.”
He could feel the tension in her body and sensed her eagerness to break away.
“I think he has a story to tell and I think you need to hear it.”
Macadams moved past her. “You’re caught, Radley. I’ve a carriage waiting to transport you for questioning.” The old man reached for the steward and the younger man bellowed as if he’d been singed.
“I won’t go,” Radley shouted. “Not until I’ve said my piece.”
“Go on then, man.” Rhys’s impatience for the thief’s nonsense was wearing thin.
Radley shot him a haughty look. “I took money from the Claremont coffers. I admit it.”
“Where is it? And the money you took from the others?” Macadams asked. “We need to recover as much as we can if you have any hope of avoiding the rope.”
Ignoring him, Radley continued glaring at Rhys. “Might regret what I did to other employers, but never to Claremont. He was a heartless wretch of a man.”
The steward’s wrath was like a palpable thing. Anger rolled off him in sickly waves, but Rhys realized the anger wasn’t for him. Radley hated his father.
Nothing Compares to the Duke Page 22