by Gaelen Foley
“You must have been smoking your Indian hookah pipe this evening, Major, really.”
Derek smiled. “Generally, I avoid the stuff, my lord. God, it must have been torture, sitting on top of all that gold for so long and not being able to touch it. And then Fallow had the gall to introduce someone like Lundy into your elite circle. The nerve!”
Sinclair glared at him.
“Living in Fallow’s shadow all your life was bad enough, I’m sure. But then he added insult to injury when he expected you and the committee to accept this lowlife,” Derek taunted. “Edward Lundy didn’t belong. He wasn’t one of us, one of our class, was he? He was not a gentleman, and you were not about to let him become one. This time, I think, Fallow had pushed you too far.”
Sinclair refused to talk, but his eyes confirmed it.
Derek was determined to make the earl betray himself. “But you were so clever. You set it up so that if anyone even discovered the theft, you’d pin the whole thing on Fallow’s creature, and distance yourself from any whiff of wrongdoing by nobly pressing on with your charade of an investigation.
“Once the deed was done, you sent Kane off to France, but then you double-crossed him once he’d served his purpose. Of course, it wasn’t as though you could have let him live. He was too reckless, too unpredictable. Not too scrupulous, either. Not a gentleman like you. He could’ve blackmailed you with the whole scheme someday. He could’ve slipped up and told someone. So you killed him before he became inconvenient. But, really, Chairman. Nightshade?”
Derek paused.
“No one deserves such a horrible death. A bullet would have been kinder for them both. But I guess you were too cowardly to confront either of them, man to man. Big, strong, young men. They would have bested you. That was why you chose the poison.”
“Your whole theory is very amusing, Major. But you’re quite mistaken. I never poisoned anyone. Lundy drank the poison by his own hand in despair over his ruin and guilt for his theft. Having already made up his mind to die, he summoned me here so he could confess. When I tried to stop him from taking his life, he threw me across the room. I struck my head, as you can see, and then blacked out.”
Derek narrowed his eyes. Sinclair must think him an idiot soldier indeed if he expected him to believe that cock-and-bull tale. Not even a madman would choose such an excruciatingly painful mode of suicide.
But he decided to give Lord Sinclair a craftier answer than simple negation. “So,” he murmured, “it’s your word against Lundy’s, then?”
The chairman snorted in disdain, as if there could be no question about which man the world would believe.
“Perhaps there’s a chance you’re telling the truth,” Derek conceded mildly. “Let’s find out.” Glancing around, he spotted a silver flask on the floor.
“What are you doing?” Sinclair watched him uneasily as Derek walked over to the flask, still keeping his pistol trained on him in case he tried anything.
“I’m going to get you a drink, my lord.” Pulling his handkerchief out of his coat pocket, he used it to cover his hand and bent down, carefully picking up the flask. “It’s almost empty, but I think there may be a few drops left.”
He holstered his pistol as he returned to the chairman, who had begun to cower.
“That’s not mine.”
“It bears your monogram, an S. The better to deceive your victim, no doubt. Lundy didn’t have the slightest inkling, did he? Not until it was too late. You knew he would fumble it sooner or later and call on you—and you were ready. You snake!”
Still sitting on the hearth, Sinclair started backing up against the fireplace. “Stay away from me.”
“What’s wrong? If your flask didn’t poison Edward, then take a sip and prove it. You look like you could use a draught.” Derek gripped Sinclair’s chubby face, forced his head back, and started to pry his mouth open. “Cheers, Sinclair! Have a drink!”
Lily shrieked while Sinclair fought him, but Derek knew exactly what he was doing.
“All right, all right! I’ll tell you everything! For the love of God, get that evil stuff away from me!”
“Where’s the money? Tell me now!” Derek roared, not relenting. He was not going to let Sinclair retract his confession as soon as he let up the pressure. The correct location of the money would stand as proof of his guilt. “Where did you hide it?”
“It’s in a bank in Scotland,” he choked out, thrashing against his hold.
“Where?” Derek boomed at him. “Answer me, you bloody thief!”
“The Royal Glasgow!”
“Under your name?”
“No,” he gasped. “No. I used—Fallow’s.”
Derek released him, shaking his head in disgust. “Now, then. You see? Telling the truth isn’t really so hard.”
“Go and wash your hands,” Lily ordered him in a shaky tone.
Steadying himself from his burst of wrath, Derek took a deep breath, nodded, and rose. He gave his pistol to Lily as he passed her. “Hold him there a moment. I’ll get Fallow’s men.”
Sinclair had to be contained, but Lily was right. Even a tiny drop of the nightshade could make a man deathly ill if it seeped into the skin. A larger dose would render him as dead as Lundy.
He called to Fallow’s servants to come back, then went to find some soap and water.
“The constables are on their way, sir,” the footman reported when he ran in.
“Good. See that they arrest that viper. He’s confessed,” Derek said. He looked at Lily. “I’ll be right back.”
She nodded, still aiming Derek’s pistol straight at Sinclair’s chest with both hands. “You’d better not move, old man,” she warned. “I may be a lady, but I’ll shoot!”
Hm, Derek thought, rather tickled by her ferocity. I think I am a bad influence on her.
As he turned to leave the room, his glance happened upon Lundy’s corpse. He winced a bit, though death was nothing new. He wouldn’t miss it, he concluded, having made up his mind as of tonight to give up soldiering.
Oats and barley? God only knew what the future might hold. He went off to wash his hands of the whole bloody business and wondered how he’d fare as a civilian.
CHAPTER
NINETEEN
Recalling the day he had found Lily searching for bridal patterns and fancy white cakes, Derek knew how much having a proper wedding would mean to her, so he insisted on giving her enough time to arrange a day for them that she could look back upon when they were old and gray, and smile.
The wedding night, now, that would be his responsibility.
He was doubtful, but Lily swore that she could have everything ready within a few weeks with Mrs. Clearwell’s help. Derek told her to make the wedding as she liked and he would pay for it.
He finally got around to telling her about the modest fortune he had built up over his years of service in India, as well as the very respectable inheritance he would receive from his father. In reality, he was welcome to ask for it to be released to him at any time.
He explained that of course he was not a millionaire like Lundy had been before he had ruined himself, but he wanted her to rest assured she would be very comfortable.
While she set up the wedding arrangements, Derek didn’t mind waiting for the big day. The best thing about being engaged to Lily was that he could see her whenever he liked without having to leap at chance occasions or contrive silly excuses to be near her. He took advantage of this luxury to the full, and they were frequently together.
In the interim, the fates of many ran their course.
With the charges brought against him, Lord Sinclair was accorded the courtesy of house arrest while awaiting his trial in the Lords. But after the money had been found in the Royal Glasgow Bank just where he said it would be, he hanged himself rather than face the public spectacle.
This inclined the Regent to allow Lord Sinclair’s son to inherit the title rather than stripping it from the family. The son had had nothing t
o do with the theft.
Lundy was examined by the coroner and buried, his properties put up for auction. Lily dutifully sent off a heart-wrenching letter to his mother, but Derek doubted the woman would return to England anytime soon.
Bess Kingsley also disappeared from Society after Edward’s death. Derek heard a rumor that her ironmonger sire had hired her a strict new governess and shipped her off on a Grand Tour in the hopes of refining her manners.
As for his trusty accountant, there was talk that the noble Charles Beecham, Esquire, should be knighted for his services numerical to the Crown. The authorities were disposed to turn a blind eye to the slightly sketchy means he had used to review Sinclair’s records, considering the large sum of stolen money that had been recovered. And with the whole of the Knight family seconding this effort, he might well be Sir Charles soon.
The constables were still searching for the rough lads Bates, Jones, and Maguire, but Derek had a feeling they had fled the realm.
Lord Fallow had a beautiful marble headstone erected over the previously unmarked grave of Phillip Kane, posthumously acknowledging his natural son. He then offered himself as the patron of a local orphanage. Society buzzed with mixed sympathy and surprise to hear how the old, soft-hearted earl went two or three times a week to read stories to the children.
Meanwhile, once the stolen money was returned to the total sum of three million for the war, Derek was summoned to the Admiralty and entrusted with the intelligence of when and where the navy flotilla would set sail to transport the army’s gold to India. To avoid trouble, it was not information the government cared to make public, but he was personally invited to take passage on one of their ships if he wished to return to his post now that his mission was complete.
He still had not heard from Colonel Montrose.
He had canceled plans to repurchase his commission, but he couldn’t help but feel a bit put out as he returned to the Althorpe from his visit to Whitehall. Communication from India to England took a long time, and often, sent letters did not make it out of a war zone at all. But he couldn’t help wondering if his regiment had simply moved on without him, that maybe he hadn’t mattered back there as much as he always thought he had.
For all his supposed glory, it left him feeling like nothing but one insignificant little cog in the wheel of the empire. It irked his pride, but he had a new purpose in life now, a new cause, and her name was Lily.
Pulling the front door of his apartment shut behind him, he spotted the silver tray where the mail amassed each day and merely scowled at it. He had donned his uniform for his visit to the Admiralty and glimpsed himself in it in the mirror above the console table, but soon it would be time to take it off and hang it up for good.
Sauntering into his rooms, he was puzzled to find the place deserted. Aadi did not appear to greet him, nor was there any sign of Gabriel.
Where is everybody? he wondered.
And then he heard the music.
The silvery warble of the sitar started up from somewhere outside and was joined a moment later by the tabla drums.
He glanced out the open window and spotted the Indian servants practicing their musical skills. Derek took comfort in the familiar sounds, but it made him ache a bit for the home he’d left behind so hastily. But as he turned to lean against the window, intent on listening further, he suddenly noticed the flower petals strewn along the floor.
His eyebrow arched up instantly.
Well, well. What have we here? Pushing away from the wall, he discovered a pink flowery trail, followed it around the corner of the hallway, and saw, ahead, that it led straight to the closed door of his bedchamber.
His blood heated in curious surprise as he walked toward the door; his pulse started pounding in time with the drums. He smelled incense burning as he neared his chamber door. As he slowly opened it, he immediately spotted the little candles burning here and there around his room.
The shades had been drawn against the light.
When he stepped inside the room, he found Lily reclining on his bed in a sensuous pose. Her eyes were lined with thick black kohl like those of a temple dancer. Her hands and feet were adorned with intricate henna designs; a golden chain around her waist was all she wore, and on her forehead a jeweled bindi gleamed.
Derek’s jaw dropped.
A warm, seductive half-smile curved her lips, rouged to match her nipples. “Namaste, Major.”
Gulp.
He barely had the presence of mind to close the door behind him.
His body instantly responded. He glanced absently at the door to make sure he had closed it all the way, then looked at her again in pure, lusting astonishment.
She was a creature spun from his most secret fantasies, an exquisite harem girl, golden-haired and milky-skinned.
He could not take his eyes off her.
“Is it my birthday?” he asked hoarsely, barely daring to blink lest the vision dissipate.
“I wanted us to have some…very special time together before everyone starts arriving in Town for the wedding.”
By “everyone” he suspected she was referring to her mother. Thus her extreme naughtiness now.
Derek was enchanted.
“Besides,” she added with a seductive smile, a goddess waiting for him, “if the major cannot go to India, then a bit of India can come to him.” She pushed up onto her knees with a sinuous motion and held out her arms to him.
Derek walked to her, roughly yanking his black uniform stock off from around his neck, then taking off his sword-belt, dropping it behind him.
His heart slammed behind his ribs.
“God. Look at you.” When he touched her, he felt the slickness of her body covered in jasmine-scented oils and shuddered. “You are just full of surprises, Lily Balfour.”
From beneath her lashes, she peered up at him in sizzling invitation.
He clasped her nape, staring at her through glittering eyes. Then he lowered his head and claimed her mouth. She tilted her head back and parted her lips wide to receive his burning kisses, returning them with all of her fire.
Rock-hard for her, Derek broke off the kiss, panting and eager to explore her. She watched his hands caress her, but she closed her eyes with an impatient sigh as his slippery touch rode over the thrusting peaks of her hardened nipples.
When she drew the opening of his shirt apart and kissed his chest, it was almost more than he could bear.
He lifted her face and took her mouth again fiercely. Then she was kissing him like she was lost in it, cupping his face, trembling. He slipped his finger under the golden chain around her hips and used it to tug her closer.
Still fully clothed but so ready for her, he unbuttoned the placket of his breeches and pressed them down around his hips. She helped him, then reached down with one henna-painted hand and with a decidedly possessive squeeze, grasped his furious erection. He groaned as his English harem girl began to stroke him.
There was so much he meant to show her. Eastern tricks. Techniques, positions. Later.
He had to have her, now.
Clasping her bare waist, he laid her back across his bed. She licked her rouged lips in anticipation and watched him through heavy-lidded eyes. He leaned down to mount her and she lifted her hips to take him in.
“Ah,” she whispered as the thick, throbbing head of his shaft entered her wet core.
He had been tense and irked and, oh, God, this was exactly what he needed. He held her waist, wanting to jam himself into her without delay, but he did not wish to hurt her with the epic size of his arousal. He had never been this excited before in his life.
His pounding pulse ticked off the seconds as he gave her a moment to inch her way down the big, hard cock between her thighs. He watched her in agonized desire as she closed her eyes and smiled in wanton satisfaction when she had finally taken him in to the hilt.
Once, twice, buried deep inside her, he pleasured her with deep, slow strokes, but then she licked her lips a
nd ran her hands down her body, and Derek simply lost his mind. He ravished her, taking her with the force of a battering ram. She bared her teeth with a wrenching groan, loving it.
Derek loved her. Time lost all meaning; his barbaric passion for her ruled his senses. His chest heaved. His blood was on fire, damp with a lover’s sweat beneath his uniform. His hardness swelled even more as he leaned down and pinned her wrists to his bed.
“Oh, God—Derek!” Her blissful little scream was music to his ears as his shaft continued pumping her with a deep, relentless rhythm.
He bent his head and captured the wild, panting breath that accompanied her orgasm, inhaling it in Tantric fashion, blowing his air softly into her mouth in return.
She was thrashing, nearly sobbing with release beneath him. Her jerking movements brought him to the edge. Then she ripped her nails down his chest, and a low shout tore from him like a war cry. He came to her from the very depths of his soul. His climax seemed to last forever.
At length, however, the mind-splitting pleasure eased, and he collapsed on her, winded and quivering.
And nowhere near done with her yet.
Later, as they lay naked together, Lily rested her head on his chest, slowly caressing him in the afterglow of passion. Derek’s thoughts drifted back to his visit to the Admiralty, then he mused that while he might have had trouble parting with his uniform, she had stripped it off him rather handily. He told her about the navy’s offer to carry him back to India.
She moved up onto her elbow and looked at him warily. “What answer did you give them?”
“What do you think?” he countered with a lazy half-smile. “I said no thanks.”
She stared somberly at him.
“What is it?” he murmured, caressing her cheek with his knuckle.