Wicked And Wild: Spencers in Love Book Two

by Abigail Graves

  "Right. So, Mirabelle and I will go to Winthorpe the day after Haverford’s ball in Richmond and then join you all at Longwood a month or so before the season starts. When do you plan to leave?" He looked at Gilles and Alastair.

  "A few weeks, I think. Elise has been sitting for Westmacott; I want to make sure he has all he needs to recreate her before we leave." Everyone around the table began to murmur in excitement. The collection of marbles at Longwood was impressive and a bust of Elise would be an excellent addition. It was also a romantic way for Gilles to show Elise how lovely she was.

  Lucien looked at Mirabelle. He decided he'd like a portrait of her. Perhaps a few. One for his study and one for a more private location...

  By the time the family left, Lucien was a little bit drunk and very ready to take his wife to bed. At the stairs he stopped Mirabelle and told her to dismiss her maid for the evening, that he'd like to undress her himself. From the way she smiled and the darkening of her eyes, Lucien could see that she liked the idea. A moment later, he passed Mary in the hall. She bobbed him a curtsy and passed him a knowing glance.

  He was shaking his head when he shut the door behind him.

  "Mary is a pest." He mumbled as he walked towards Mirabelle. She was pulling pins out of her hair. It reminded him of the first time he kissed her. Lucien leaned down to kiss her neck but found it obscured by lace. "What's this about? It's not your usual style." He flicked at it and wrinkled his nose.

  "It isn't and Mary isn't exactly pleased with you either." Mirabelle smiled as she pulled the scarf and turned to face Lucien. His eyes widened when he saw all the marks. She pulled her bodice, revealing a neat impression of his teeth on the soft flesh of her breast.

  "Breakfast?" He asked but he knew it must have been. Mirabelle had looked so fetching in the morning light and then she'd licked marmalade from her lips. Lucien had to have her. He dropped his fork and knife and dragged her into his study. He'd pushed Mirabelle on to the couch and dove upon her. If he wasn't mistaken, she probably had similar imprints on her hip and inside her thigh. She'd tasted so divine that the memory of it had driven him to the point of madness until he sought her out later in the afternoon.

  "I suppose it was worth it." Mirabelle giggled as she turned and lifted her hair so Lucien could deal with the buttons down her back.

  It didn't take long before he was undressed and she was removing her stockings. Lucien watched as she rolled them down each leg, her foot resting on the vanity stool. He let his head fall to one side as he took in the firm round globes of her bottom. He sighed as she stood and glanced to the top of the vanity where she'd discarded the wisps of silk. A single white rose caught his eye. He was about to ask where it had come from when Mirabelle turned and dropped to her knees before him.

  She took his erection in her hands and began stroking. He looked down to see her staring up at him seductively as her tongue slid from between her lips and swept around the head of his cock. Lucien let his head fall back and groaned as he pushed a hand into her hair. Mirabelle had mastered the skill and knew exactly what he liked. She opened her mouth wide and he felt her lips sliding down the length of him as far as she could manage. Lucien shut his eyes and pictured her derrière. He decided some rearranging was in order. He reached down and after some tugging was able to get Mirabelle to her feet.

  "I wasn't finished!" She pouted.

  "You can continue. I thought I'd make us more comfortable and join you." She was intrigued and let him lead her to the bed.

  Lucien lay diagonal across the bed on his back. He reclined on his elbow and signaled for her to join him. Mirabelle crawled on her hands and knees towards him and his cock throbbed painfully. She stopped at his hips and looked at him, awaiting his guidance.

  "Straddle my waist as if you're going to ride me but face the other way." Lucien's voice was hard and deep. Her eyes widened and lit up when she realized what he was suggesting. Mirabelle swung her leg over him and giggled as she scooted her backside up his body. The sight of her perfect bottom wiggling back and forth as it came towards his face made his cock jump. A moment later, Lucien felt her hands close around him and she began to stroke. He hooked his arms behind her thighs and swiftly jerked, pulling them over his shoulders. Mirabelle shrieked in surprise and he inhaled deeply as he buried his face in the warm heaven between her legs. She moaned rapturously as he felt her mouth close around him. What proceeded was a friendly competition to see who could make the other person louder. Lucien won but not by very much.

  Chapter 26

  “Good afternoon, Joss.” Alastair handed his hat and cane to the butler as he was let into Clerendon House. “Is His Grace in the study?” The butler’s face reddened and he cleared his throat.

  “His Grace is in his study but I'm afraid he is having a private… conversation with Her Grace.”

  Alastair raised a brow and was about to ask for an explanation when he heard a crash from within the study. He tensed and began to rush towards the room when he heard his sister scream Lucien’s name. His instinct was to kill the man and his hand was within reach of the door when he heard Mirabelle yell “Now! Yes!” and shriek. Alastair stepped back from the door, stunned. He turned and stared at Joss.

  “As I said, His Grace is in the middle of something, I imagine. Would you like to wait in the Library, sir?” The butler gestured towards the room farther down the hall. Alastair nodded and followed, trying to unhear the events in the study. Once he was seated in the library Joss offered to bring tea. Would they be that much longer? He wondered. He hoped not. This wasn't a social call; he had urgent business with Lucien. He declined the tea and Joss left.

  Mirabelle spent a lot of time in the library. Alastair could see her presence in the room. She had a terrible habit of leaving books in piles on tables and the floor. She turned the corners of pages down. When he was young, Alastair would place bookmarks in her books and unfold them. It used to irritate him to no end. Now, it made him miss her. A pair of her slippers peeked from under the lounge opposite him and a blanket rested on the arm where one hadn't been before. He could only imagine Joss’ frustration. It wasn't like the old man to allow anything to be out of place. While the library wasn't in disarray, it wasn't up to the butler’s exacting standards. But Mirabelle had her habits. She liked to drift from book to book through the day and read certain books in certain places; she liked them to be where she left them. She was always leaving her slippers and shawls around the house as well.

  Alastair was comforted with the knowledge that Clerendon House had become her home, that she had settled in peacefully. Well, not completely peacefully, if the ruckus in the study was any indication. Choosing to focus on the fact that Lucien and Mirabelle were both happy and compatible, he put aside the awareness that his best friend was doing unspeakable things to his sister. Alastair stood and began pacing. He couldn't wait much longer.

  Fortunately, Lucien strode into the library a moment later. He looked relatively presentable. His clothes were slightly rumpled, his skin was flushed, his lips were swollen and his expression was overly relaxed. Alastair could smell Mirabelle's perfume on him as well as the unmistakable scent of sex. He felt a brief flare of hostility and his jaw twitched. As soon as Lucien smiled in welcome, it receded.

  “Sorry. We weren't expecting you. Mirabelle ran upstairs to change; she'll be back down shortly.” He went to the sideboard but Alastair stopped him.

  “There's no time for that. I was about to leave without you.” Alastair looked towards the door. “One of my men was going through Whitrose's accounts and discovered another warehouse. I've got runners watching it and waiting for me before they go in. I assumed you'd want to be with me. I have a carriage out front, we need to go now.” He didn't wait for Lucien’s reply and was already in the hall.

  “Of course!” Lucien was a step behind him. Joss was hurrying for the door, collecting hats, coats and canes. “Joss, tell Her Grace that it was extremely urgent and that I'll be back as soon as possib
le. She isn't to wait on me; I don't know how long I'll be.”

  “Yes, Your Grace.” Joss responded as he opened the door.

  Once in the carriage and rolling towards the docks, Alastair filled Lucien in on what his man had discovered.

  “We thought we'd had all of his nests uncovered but this last one may be his most valuable. He was careful to cover his tracks but my detective is incredible with deeds and accounts. It appears that Whitrose was a key player in a white slavery ring. This warehouse appears to have been a holding area for women until they could be moved to ships for transport.” Alastair pulled a piece of paper from inside his coat. Lucien’s repulsion was visible as he handed the sheet to him. “As you can see, the holding company is called White Rose. Not a sensible move on his part. I assume he meant it not only in reference to his name but the product he was importing. I can't be sure if it was sheer hubris or total stupidity. I'm beginning to think he had some very powerful people in his pocket.”

  “And you've had nothing in regards to the body in the warehouse fire?” Lucien asked as he passed the paper back to Alastair.

  “No. Everyone is assuming it's him. Sources in the area say that he had been hiding there for approximately two weeks.” Alastair took out his watch, they should be close and the runners should still be waiting.

  “None of my investigators have turned up anything either. I'll keep them looking. I don't like it, it seems too easy.” Lucien looked out the window. Alastair knew he was becoming tense as they got further from Mayfair. While he never enjoyed heading into the darker areas of London, Alastair was not as affected as Lucien and his brother. Both were staunch defenders of those they considered weak and helpless. Gilles was quick to right a wrong by jumping into a fight and bending others to his will. Lucien’s obsessions were justice and reform. Knowing a man like Whitrose was using his power to exploit the poor and working classes offended him deeply. Alastair never knew how Lucien would react when they ventured into the slums, stews and docks. While he wasn't indifferent, he wasn't driven to save every soul he met as Lucien was. Providing small, temporary solutions wasn't going to change the grand scheme of things.

  The carriage rocked to a halt. Alastair stepped out and determined that they were a short distance from the warehouse. He gestured for Lucien to follow and they made their way carefully, trying to avoid drawing unnecessary attention. Alastair saw Inspector Digby and approached him.

  “Has anyone gone in or out?” He asked as he scanned the front of the building for any information he could obtain. All of the windows were filthy; no one had wiped them from either side to see in or out. Debris was piled against the doors; they hadn't been opened in a long time. He made his way around to see the next side as Lucien and Digby followed.

  “No, sir! Thing’s been like a tomb all afternoon. None of the people we've questioned saw anyone coming or going for months.” Digby whispered as they hurried around the building to examine the third side.

  Alastair saw it. A door had been opened, trash had been pushed aside just enough to allow a body to squeeze through.

  “There.” He pointed and Digby signaled to his men. Alastair nodded to Lucien and crossed the street, his hands pushed into his pockets and he tried to look as if he was supposed to be milling around the docks. Once he reached the far side of the building he dashed against it, the door was just around the corner. He looked along the wall behind him and saw no signs of disturbance. There was only one door in use. He felt Lucien’s shoulder against his as Digby scurried in place next to them. “We’re unarmed. Send your men in first. We’ll give them a few minutes. They know not to disturb anything?” Digby nodded. “Good. Let's go, then.”

  With that, Digby waved and pointed at the door and a dozen runners leapt from various hiding places and ran towards the door. Digby saluted Alastair and Lucien and followed them in. Alastair listened carefully for the sound of an altercation but it remained silent. He took out his watch and waited two minutes. Once the time had passed he replaced it and nodded to Lucien. Both stepped away from the wall and slipped around the corner and through the door.

  The air was heavy with dust and Alastair detected the putrid smell of a corpse. There was enough light to make out crates and the swiftly moving figures of the runners as they looked for any living inhabitants. Lucien was following the smell. Alastair stayed close to him as he catalogued the detritus around them. They were near a corner where the crates had been piled the highest when they heard a tiny voice.

  “Help us!” It cried. Lucien rushed between the crates. Alastair swore as he dashed after him. The runners hadn't been back there yet and neither had a weapon. Once his eyes adjusted to the light, Alastair saw a small girl lying next to the decaying body of a woman. Lucien squatted next to the child. He'd brushed the hair from her face and was whispering to her.

  “Alastair! She needs food and water, fast!” He urged. Loath to leave him alone, Alastair stepped out of the corner and called to the first runner he spotted.

  “Two blocks west, there's a tavern, get some food. Hurry!” He yelled. As the man ran for the door, he grabbed another. “Water. Find water as fast as you can.” He pushed the man towards the door as Digby ran towards him.

  “What is it?” He asked. Alastair pulled him away from the crate shelter.

  “A woman is dead and there's a small girl with her that I assume is her daughter. She appears to be approximately three years of age but if I account for malnutrition and the other general effects of poverty, she may be as much as five. She doesn't appear to have had any food or water for days. I haven't had a chance to look at the body for more than a moment but I would guess that the woman has been dead for four days, so the child hasn't eaten in at least that long. Probably longer. I believe her death is imminent but Clerendon will want us to do all we can to save her. I've sent for food and water.” Digby’s mouth hung open as he processed all that Alastair had said. After a moment he nodded and slipped between the crates. Alastair followed.

  Lucien cradled the little girl in his arms and was whispering to her. She was limp and almost unresponsive.

  “We’ll have something for you soon poppet. If you're a good girl and eat and drink, I'll take you to a sweet shop and buy you anything you want. Won't that be lovely?” He crooned.

  “Mummy made me promise to never leave her unless I was with Ms. Willet.” Her voice was barely a whisper.

  “Your mummy is with the angels now, sweet. You’ll have to come with us.” He looked at Alastair and his eyes were shattered, full of unshed tears.

  “Going with mummy.” She sighed. Lucien pulled her to him and made shushing sounds.

  “She wouldn't want that, poppet. She would want you to play and grow up to be beautiful and strong.” He begged. Alastair sensed that the girl was fading. He squatted next to Lucien and touched her face. It was cold. She looked at him though unfocused and nearly shuttered eyes.

  “Why did mummy bring you here, little angel?” He made his voice gentle and warm like Lucien's.

  “To see the man about Aunty Jane. They had a fight and I hid ‘til he was gone and mummy wouldn't wake up.” She drew in a weak and ragged breath. Alastair knew that if she hadn’t been severely dehydrated and starved she would have cried. Lucien’s eyes were hard as he stared at Alastair. He believed the man was Whitrose. He looked back down at the girl and his expression softened.

  “What's your name, poppet?” He whispered.

  “Charlotte. Like gran.” She smiled weakly. “I'll see her soon too.”

  “Not yet, alright? They're not ready to see you yet.” Lucien began rocking her as he looked around. Just then, one of the runners slid in with a bucket of water. He dropped to his knees and produced a spoon. Lucien took it and held it to her lips. She pressed her face to his chest. “Please! You have to drink this!” He tried tilting her back so he could angle the spoon towards her mouth and her head flopped back. “No! Wake up!” He dropped the spoon and patted her cheek. She didn't respond. He s
hook her gently. Nothing.

  Alastair felt her neck for a pulse. There was none.

  “Lucien.” He said softly. Lucien looked at him, his eyes were wide and his lips trembled. “She's gone.” Alastair placed her hand on her chest. Lucien shook his head and tears spilled from his eyes. He lifted the girl from Lucien and placed her next to her mother. He turned to Lucien; he was sitting against the wall, his knees up and his head in his hands. Deciding to give him a moment alone, he gestured for Digby to follow him through the crates.

  “Did you find anything else?” He gestured around the warehouse.

  “It hasn't been used for months, there's a lot of trash but no items of value or documents. This corner seems to be a makeshift room; someone lived here for a few weeks.” Digby said. Alastair nodded. He'd made the same assessment. Someone hid there until the woman was killed. There was nothing to suggest who that person had been. Lucien emerged and walked out the door. Alastair thanked Digby and asked him to look into the details the girl had given them.

  Once outside, Lucien walked back to the carriage. Alastair followed, giving him a few paces. When they were inside and moving, he looked at Lucien. His face was hard, he was furious.

  “We don't know who was in that warehouse or who that woman was looking for.” Alastair offered. Lucien looked at him for several moments. He shook his head furiously.

  “I'm sick of not knowing!” He punched the side of the carriage. “If it was Whitrose, we don't know who the first body in the warehouse was. It also means that he killed that poor girl’s mother and probably sold or killed the woman’s sister. And as far as I'm concerned, he killed that girl too.”