Crippin walked away, shaking his head. Ives waited until he climbed into the carriage and it rolled away. Then he strode toward Langley House.
* * *
Padua had no desire to ride through town again. Mr. Notley’s note made her feel guilty, however, so after dinner she tied on her bonnet, donned her pelisse, and picked up her reticule. She checked to be sure she carried some coins, then headed down to the door.
“Please have a hired coach procured for me,” she told the servant manning the reception hall.
He turned on his heel, and strode to the door.
He did not leave. Someone stood outside. The servant stepped to the side of the threshold.
Ives strode in. He walked right up to her, stopped, and examined her from bonnet to shoes. “Are you going out?”
“I received a summons from the lawyer. He asked that I call on him as soon as possible.”
“It is very late for that.”
“It is important, he says.”
“May I see this letter?”
She did not like his tone. Not so much suspicious as imperious; there was a good mix of the former in it too. His expression had assumed its most chiseled countenance. His eyes pierced whatever he saw. Especially her.
She dug into her reticule. “It is a business jotting, no more, from one of his clerks.” She handed it to him.
With a flourish he flipped it open and held it to the lamp on a nearby table. “This did not come from Notley, or one of his clerks. Clerks have better hands when they use a pen, and lawyers have better paper.”
“If not from Mr. Notley, from whom?”
“Come with me.” He took her hand and strode to the back of the house, pulling her along.
She tried to dig in her heels to no avail. Extricating her hand proved impossible. She stumbled along behind him, getting crosser, more resistant, and less balanced with each step.
He led her into the morning room, released her, and closed the door.
She set herself to rights. “Your letter yesterday implied that you would not be visiting while I am here. I am sorry to see I misunderstood.”
“It is a damned good thing I visited.” He stood straight and tall. He waved the letter in the air dramatically. “This was sent to lure you out of the house this evening. Men waited to abduct you.”
His pronouncement inspired laughter that she could not contain. “No one would abduct me. There is no one to pay a ransom.”
He did not so much as smile. Under that dark gaze she swallowed the last giggles. “Surely you are mistaken,” she said.
“Hardly, since I just sent those men packing. Nor did they seek a ransom in the normal way, although your father may have found himself bargaining for your freedom. They wanted information from you. Information that your father refuses to give them.”
“Since I cannot give it, either, it would have been much drama to little purpose.”
He paced in front of her, setting his boots down firmly, never taking his eyes off her. “They do not know that. They do not believe that.”
“Who are they?”
He looked to the ceiling, as if praying for patience. “Did you, or did you not, return to Newgate this afternoon?”
She decided it was a good time to remove her bonnet. While she did she deliberated whether a small untruth would be wise. Or successful.
He waited for her answer, his hands clasped behind him, his gaze daring her to lie.
“I did.”
“Did I not tell you not to do that? Did I not warn you that suspicions abounded about you?”
“Yes.”
“But you ignored me, and visited his cell anyway, bringing once more books—which are almost never brought to prisoners and in themselves suspicious.”
“Why would books be suspicious?”
“It is easy to hide messages in them. If not a note, something written on the pages themselves.”
She faced him squarely. “I intended to have a warden deliver them. Then Mr. Brown told me my father refused to meet with Mr. Notley. So I went myself, to convince him to make use of the lawyer I had found. I realize that you think I should just let him rot there, but as his daughter I cannot do that.”
“Did it do any good? Did you convince him?”
She hated giving him the satisfaction of hearing what he expected. “No. I did not.”
He just looked at her. He considered something important, from the intensity of his examination.
“Did he tell you anything useful?”
“He only scolded me for coming, as he always does.”
“Nothing more? No directions, or instructions? No confidences regarding the location of his ill-gotten gains?”
“What are you implying?”
“I want to know everything you know about him, damn it. I demand you tell me anything he may have said that in any way touches on his role in that counterfeiting.”
Hardness had settled on him. The famed barrister had her in the dock, and through force of will intended to make her confess.
To what?
“Do you also think now that I may be his accomplice? Do I look like one to you?”
“I would have said not. However, I do not put much trust in my judgment now.”
“Why not? What has changed?”
“Damn it, you know why not. As for what has changed . . . ” He walked over to the table used for breakfast. He reached into his coat and removed something that he placed on the table’s surface. “You did not search his apartment much, did you?”
“Not well at all.” The letters had distracted her.
“Of course, I interrupted you. Had I not, you may have found this, as perhaps he intended.”
“What is it?”
“Money. A good deal of money.”
She eyed that stack, wondering what size notes it contained.
“I am surprised someone in authority did not find it. I assumed they searched,” she said.
“Perhaps not, having found the counterfeit money so fast. If they went farther, they missed this.” He slid a note out of the stack and took it to a lamp. He examined it. “It is good. All of it is, I expect.” He threw a ten-pound note on top of the packet.
She walked over to the table and lifted the little bundle wrapped in paper. “How much is here?”
“A little over two hundred.”
A small fortune. She tore off the wrapping.
“These notes were hidden in books. Schoolbooks. Your schoolbooks.”
She hoped she did not flush. “He kept those old books?” She filled her hands with the banknotes. She fanned them out.
“There were twelve of them. I found money in ten. Two others had already been searched, so I think you did find some of it, Padua.”
She had no intention of confirming his theory. She much preferred being distracted by the money to looking at the severe lord hovering at her side. Maybe he thought Papa had discovered an easy way to tell his accomplice daughter where to find his ill-gotten gains.
“You did find some of the money, correct?” His voice, crisp and demanding, flowed into her ear. “Before I interrupted.”
“What makes you think so?”
“Because you kept crinkling. I should have searched you after all, it seems.”
She turned her head. He stood right beside her. “I do not understand why you are so angry. This is a wonderful discovery that you have made. There are funds now to pay the lawyer fees, and to tide me over until I find another situation. What is it you suspect me of doing?”
“Of not wanting me, of all men, to see the fruits of your father’s crimes.”
“I am sure this money is not that.” She would probably not be allowed to keep it if that were the conclusion. The evidence of payment would only hasten her father’s conviction too.
“It is a lot of money,” he said. “More than most men have on hand. If not payment from his accomplices, how did he get so much?”
She made a thick stack with the not
es, so she could hold them tightly. “He does not use much money. You saw how he lives. Over time he probably just squirreled away the extra.”
“Really, Padua.” He reached for the notes.
She turned so he could not touch them. She wished she had searched all of those little red books, before he did. She should have returned and done so yesterday, instead of playing lady of the manor in a duke’s house.
“The legacy. That is what this must be. Payment on the legacy, or from it. It probably pays out only once or twice a year, and he hides the money, then lives off it, bit by bit.”
Despite her desperation, it sounded logical. He thought so too. He did not try to take the notes from her again.
“Tell me about this legacy.”
“There is not much to tell. It came to him soon after my mother died, from a distant relative he did not know. They had never met. Lawyers had spent years tracking down an heir. He never told me how much it was. All he said was fortune had finally smiled on him and provided money to live on, and he could afford to send me to school.”
I’ve the means to buy you an education now. I’ve not the patience to be a child’s tutor, the way your mother was, or to have a girl underfoot, so this is the best for both of us.
He flicked the edges of the notes with his fingertip. “No one will believe that.”
“And if they don’t?”
“The money will be confiscated.”
It would kill her to give this money up. It was unfair for it to fall from the sky like a gift from heaven, only to have it disappear just as quickly. She looked at him, searching for the kind, sympathetic lord who could appear at times. “They cannot confiscate that which they do not know exists,” she said.
His lids lowered. He crossed his arms. She waited for the barrister to explain all the legalities she did not want to hear.
“I should inform the magistrate of what I found, of course,” he said.
Except he had not, had he? He had brought that money here instead. She had half-won this battle before he entered the door.
“I have asked Mr. Notley to investigate the legacy,” she said. “I promise I will not spend any of this until he confirms its existence.” At which point, she would declare this money the proceeds. Not that she would say so now. “In the meantime, I will keep it very safe.”
A final flash of indecision showed in his eyes. On impulse, she stuffed the banknotes down her bodice.
He laughed, darkly. “The fashions today do not lend themselves to that maneuver with such a large number of notes. One or two at most.”
She looked down at the ridiculous bulge between her breasts. “Still it is safe from any gentleman with inconvenient notions of duty.”
“Some gentlemen would decide duty was a good excuse to pluck it back out.” He came closer to her. “You have all but invited me to try.”
She swallowed hard. “But you won’t. Correct?”
No response came. No nod. All she received was that deep consideration to which he so often subjected her.
“I wonder,” he murmured, as if to himself.
“Wonder what?”
“That first night, you came close to trying to bribe me.” He tipped her chin up with his hand. “Have you been trying that, Padua, in more subtle ways? Are you attempting that now?”
“I am not the one showing up unexpectedly in your life. I have not been the one interfering. Do not blame me just because you—you—”
“That is true. You are blameless. I am my own undoing.” He angled his head and kissed her lips, first with a gentle touch, then more fully.
She pretended to suffer it, when in truth sensual sparkles descended in a shower. She turned her head in halfhearted resistance. “Shouldn’t you be showing more fortitude? Thinking of duty and such?”
“I suppose so. And yet—” His kisses enlivened her cheek, her jaw, then the sensitive skin below her ear. He embraced her, his firm arm encompassing her waist. “If I am going to turn a blind eye to one small point of duty regarding that money, I don’t see why I should deny myself on another.”
“I am flattered to know I am a small point.”
“You are not. I have decided that kissing you is, though.”
They both knew that was not true. She did not think he would listen to reason now, however. Nor could she muster enough sense to make the argument. The possessive manner in which he began to caress her became too distracting. Thrills commanded her attention so she could barely think at all.
Still, she really should stop this, except—a touch on her breast made the idea dissolve.
That hand just rested there, on the top of her breast, while his arm pulled her closer to his body.
She looked into eyes like faceted dark emeralds, unable to read his thoughts. Except one. He knew she enjoyed this too much to deny it. He knew he had won without much effort at all.
The light touch on her breast became a deliberate caress that made itself felt through her garments. Luscious pleasure poured through her body and pooled low in her stomach. She thought she would swoon.
“Your eyes are as bright as I imagined they would be when I caressed you, Padua.”
His caress continued absorbing all her attention. She barely managed to speak. “You said you did not believe in seduction.”
“Did I say that? How careless of me.” He nuzzled and kissed her neck. Sensual chills enlivened her skin with a thousand streams of delight. “Although I think you have seduced me, you see. Not I you.”
“You talk so smoothly. However, it is you who lure me.”
“How little you know about your power, Padua.” He brushed his lips against hers again. Her mouth quivered. His fingers found her nipple through her garments. The way he teased at her sent her up on her toes.
“Should I stop? I will, if you demand it.”
Stop? End this bliss? Reject this transformation of her entire being? She did not want it to end, ever.
He waited for her answer. Even his caress stopped, which maddened her. She opened her eyes. His gaze contained everything she knew about him. His wicked side and his kind one. His hardness and his charm. Mostly it reflected that he knew her answer without her saying anything at all.
“Well, then,” he murmured. “Let us do this properly.”
Do what? The notion that she should ask slipped away as soon as it formed.
He moved her, his embrace lifting her off her feet. The chamber spun. She found herself on his lap, her shoulders cradled by his arm, her body slung across his thighs. Astonished, she watched his head lower until warm kisses pressed her neck and the skin exposed above her garments. Each one shot tantalizing streams down her body.
He turned his ravishment to her mouth. He no longer lured, but claimed. Her body responded erotically. He took advantage of her gasps to invade her mouth. Shocked momentarily, she quickly submitted to the bold intimacy. When his caress smoothed over her body, from her neck to her knees, her consciousness submerged under a stupor of sensation striped with feral anticipation.
She felt his fingers on her chest. He lifted the money out of her bodice and dropped it to the floor. She looked down to see him unbuttoning her pelisse.
He sat her up and slid the pelisse off. She turned her head and watched it fall into a green pool beside the money.
Hot kisses on her neck reclaimed her attention. Purposeful caresses on her breasts beckoned her into delirium. Her dress was half-unfastened before she realized the hand on her back had intentions more wicked than that on her front. Even after her bodice lowered, revealing her stays and petticoat, that hand moved back there.
A thread of rationality returned. “Shouldn’t we be negotiating first? You said you always did.”
“To hell with that.” His mouth moved to the soft skin exposed above her stays.
She felt her stays loosen. They began sliding down her shoulders, along with her petticoat. A masculine hand helped them. Through the fog of sensation, she realized she would soon be half
-naked.
“I thought—” She turned her face so his kiss could not silence her. “I thought you always ensured women and you were of like mind. I thought you chatted first.”
Warmth on her skin. On her breast. A new caress, a direct one, made her dizzy with pleasure.
“We already did.”
“That was hypothetical, and not very detailed. We may not suit at all in this.”
“You suit me fine. Chat all you want, however. I promise to listen.” He even looked in her eyes, so she could see his attention.
Unfortunately, his caresses did not stop. That made forming coherent thoughts difficult, let alone speaking them. His hot gaze undid her further. She looked down at her now bare breasts and her garments bunched below them. While she did, his fingertips slid to her nipple. He began to gently rub.
The sensation overwhelmed her. Her vision blurred. She could barely sit still. The pleasure became excruciating. If he continued she would die, but if he stopped she would scream.
His breath warmed her shoulder. “You are lovely, Padua.” Lower kisses, on her chest. “Perfect.” Lower yet. Her breast turned heavy and full. Her breathing quickened while she waited for him to . . . She wanted, she needed . . . She arched in offering and frustrated anticipation.
When his kiss grazed her nipple, she spun into abandon. He teased at her, his hand on one breast and his mouth on the other, his teeth and tongue and lips driving her insane. A tempest of sensation built and built. Her consciousness dwelled in the center of the storm.
Of course she noticed when the sensual torment stopped. His arms slid under her body and lifted. Through hooded eyes she saw the chamber swim by. When it settled she was looking up at the ceiling.
The table. She was on the table. On her back. She looked down her body, at her exposed breasts and bunched garments, at her long skirt. At the hips, torso, and head of the man standing between her dangling legs.
She could not bear that he no longer touched her. Her breasts had grown so sensitive that even the air teased them, making her want more. She instinctively pouted, just as her mind found some curiosity about why he had laid her here.
He reached down her body and touched one nipple. She arched. Joy poured through her.
Tall, Dark, and Wicked (Wicked Trilogy) Page 10