He could not take Padua away to a cottage, but he could remove her from this house for a few hours. He had amends to make, for the embarrassment of Eva finding him in that bed. He also had things to say. Just what things he did not know for certain. Normally he said whatever needed saying before he took a woman to bed, not after. Usually all he did was create a contract for pleasure.
But this affair with Padua was not normal. Hence the dilemma.
Lance’s nose still resided in the letter he had opened.
“What is that there, which requires you read it three times?” Ives said.
“A very curious letter. From Sidmouth. He never writes to me. Actually, I don’t think the Home Office secretary has said ten words to me in my life.” He waved the letter. “But suddenly I am his good friend, with whom he communicates at length.”
Ives stood. “I will leave you to it. I think a ride is in order. The day is fair.”
“If you could wait a few minutes, I would be grateful. I think you can shed light on this peculiar missive, you see. You are mentioned several times.” He set the letter down and gazed up.
Ives had no idea what Sidmouth had written, so he had no intention of leading this conversation.
“You mentioned when you came that you were worried Miss Belvoir had attracted the attention of the Home Office. Did you suspect that because you thought she was being watched while in my home?”
“Yes.”
“And did you send word up the ranks of the Home Office that if they did not call off their watch, you would see to it that I—how did Sidmouth phrase it?—raised so much hell in the House of Lords that the peers would insist that heads roll?”
“I was sure you would not tolerate such an insult to yourself and to the entire peerage.”
“Well, that explains this.” Lance tapped the letter. “It contains a cryptic apology from Sidmouth, something about a hired man not understanding his mission, and ends with a jovial assumption that I would not put too much stock in any tales you might tell.”
“I am glad he took it seriously.”
“I am sorry I did not, when you first mentioned the Home Office. What does Sidmouth want with Miss Belvoir? Is she some radical? A revolutionary? A criminal?”
“She is none of those things.” He would swear to it. He just had no proof to support his conviction.
“You are sure, are you?”
“Damned sure.”
“Then why did Sidmouth set a man on her?”
“It has to do with her father, and a misunderstanding of her loyalty to him.”
“So her father is the criminal, radical, or revolutionary.”
“Yes.”
“Which is it?”
“The first, as best I can tell. Possibly the second, but it is unrelated if true. Unlikely for the third, but . . .”
“But you really can’t be sure.”
“Correct.” He shared the story of Hadrian Belvoir and the counterfeiting, and of Padua’s visits to the prison and the hope of the Home Office to have a minnow lead them to a whale. “It is a matter for the magistrates, if they only think it was counterfeiting. The interest of the Home Office implies someone thinks the bad money funded something disloyal,” he concluded.
“So you brought her here where no agent dare trespass.”
“And where I could keep an eye on her, while I visited. If you think her presence compromises you, we will leave today.”
Lance rose and paced to the window. He looked out while he thought. “Zealots cannot be trusted. Everyone knows Sidmouth’s agents cross too many lines, and create as many problems as they solve. The lords do not stand up to him and end it because they are afraid these radicals will start a revolution and our heads will be on the block.”
“We can still leave, to spare you trouble. As you said, there are enough clouds here already.”
“Not political ones.” He turned, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “I think I will enjoy this. For once I will relish having the title. Being the title. Lord Lancelot Hemingford might have garnered suspicion, but Aylesbury? Never. No one would dare.” He picked up the letter. “I must respond. Graciously, of course. I will express dismay at the insult to my position as reported by my brother. I will be forgiving, but in a most condescending way. I will imply that since Sidmouth was only recently made a viscount, and a newly minted title at that, he can be excused his error this once.”
Glad that was settled, Ives rose again to take his leave.
“As for Miss Belvoir,” Lance continued, “I trust you will watch your step. As you admit, you can’t really be sure about her.”
“My better judgment usually stands me in good stead where people are concerned.”
“As it does in all things, to the family’s everlasting benefit. If I believed your better judgment were at work with her, Ives, I would have never said a word.”
* * *
Ives tucked a blanket around Padua’s legs and lap. That charmed her, as did the cushion he had insisted be put on the board where she sat. The day was not really cold and her pelisse would be sufficient, but she did not object to his efforts to make her comfortable in the simple open carriage they would use for this outing.
He climbed up and took the reins. Their horse paced out of the yard and aimed toward the lane.
The day shone fair, but a crisp breeze kicked dried leaves all around the gig. The horse made a fast trot down the lane. Halfway to the road, Ives pulled on the reins and stopped. He turned and pulled Padua into a long kiss.
“That is to make up for what I could not do this morning,” he said, snapping the reins again. “I apologize for the embarrassment, and for a bad end to the night.”
“It was not as bad as it looked. I discovered that embarrassment has a limit. Once you reach it, things do not get worse.” She laughed. “Eva had said she would come in the morning to see about altering some garments, but I never thought she would arrive at daybreak.”
“I daresay she will never enter a visitor’s chamber again without sending a note first, after this.”
“It could have been worse. Had I not pulled the sheet over you, she would have seen much more. I doubt even Eva could have remained so blasé then.”
Padua could not resist making the face of astonishment she thought Eva would have shown. They shared a good laugh over that.
Padua wiped tears from her eyes. “She did not say anything the whole time we fitted the garments. I think she will be as discreet as she promised.”
“Except with Gareth. She told him.”
“Do you think so?”
“I know it. I saw him right before I joined you and the smile he gave me was unmistakable.”
“A congratulatory smile, no doubt. That is how men would think of it for you.”
She received an odd look for that. Once again he stopped the gig. “Padua, I will not pretend that I acted honorably last night. Such considerations did not exist. The only thought in my head was that I wanted you. I did not give you much choice, either, and that was not fair.”
“I was not importuned. Overwhelmed, perhaps, but not treated dishonorably. I am not a schoolgirl.”
“You are not very worldly either.”
“Not an opera singer, as Eva said?”
“Definitely not.”
She did not care for the awkwardness descending between them. She feared, she realized, that Ives was going to decide to be honorable in the future. “I do not regret it, if you are wondering about that. I am not angry or think you took advantage. Perhaps I should be, but I am not.”
He aimed the carriage down a hill toward a small chapel set among a stand of oaks. As they moved past it, she saw the graveyard to its side. A sepulcher dominated it, standing twice as high as any of the other memorials and dwarfing the small tombstones.
“Is that your father’s tomb?”
He shook his head. “My brother’s. My father’s is very modest.”
She turned and looked back at the grav
eyard. “How odd.”
“Not at all. A man who achieved something does not need any mark on his grave to be remembered. A man who accomplished little that is good can leave nothing else to remind the world he once lived.”
“You were not fond of this brother, I think.”
“I hated him.”
There could be no response to such a flat, simple statement.
He took the reins in one hand, and took her own hand in his free one. “I have shocked you with that bald and heartless admission. It is not something I share often. Not something I give voice to. I hope you do not think badly of me, but it is the truth. I hated him. We all did. The others had more cause than I, but he cast such a shadow over us that when he died we—well, no one mourned him much.”
“If you all felt that way, there was probably good reason.”
He raised her hand and kissed it, as if grateful she did not scold him. “I became a lawyer specifically to annoy him. It was a small revenge. He lectured on and on about how it was beneath us for me to do this, and I would listen and nod, listen and nod. When he learned I had discarded his advice and preference, he became a madman. I enjoyed the fit it gave him.”
“Was it not reckless to goad? He became the next duke. He had the chance to exact some revenge, too, I would think.”
“Only financial, but Lance and I were left portions from our mother, and my father provided for Gareth. Percy tried to use allowances to get us to heel, but we chose not to become his dependents. He would have made that hell.”
“I have no siblings, good or bad, so I find it sad that you had a brother who did not know how fortunate he was. I have often regretted that I have no sister or brother. While I do not envy you your brother Percy, I get wistful when I see the rest of you together.”
Again that kiss on her hand. An apology this time? Or an expression of pity? His attention remained on the horse and the road, but she wondered if his thoughts had turned to how they met, and what waited in London. She had little family, and soon might have none at all.
The lane angled up a steep hill. At the top a lovely vista waited. They looked down on an autumn countryside dotted with farmhouses. A village’s homes clustered in the distance.
“This is beautiful, Ives. For someone who has only known cities, it looks like heaven. So open and so peaceful, and so very quiet.”
He jumped out of the gig and tied the horse to a stump. He came around and unbundled her from the blanket, then helped her down. “We can sit here for a while, if you like.”
“I would enjoy that.”
He spread the blanket on the ground. She sat and he joined her. For a few minutes she just feasted her eyes on the prospect beyond and below.
“How did the dressmaking session go this morning?” he asked.
“Very well. Eva is very talented at remaking dresses.” She turned her attention to him. “Did you ask her to do that?”
“That is not how I provide my lovers with new wardrobes.”
“They expect better, I suppose.”
“It is not a matter of expecting, so much as requiring, Eva. I am at a disadvantage with you in many ways. I dare not offer you what I normally offer, lest it offend you.” The look in his eyes invited her to fix his dilemma by declaring she would not be offended and would like having a new wardrobe too.
Which she would. What woman wouldn’t?
“It would be easier for you if I were an opera singer, you mean,” she said. “Then everything would be normal. Since it is not, you do not know what to do about me now, do you?”
“No.” He took her hand. “That is not true. I know what I am supposed to do. In such a situation, a gentleman offers marriage.”
“I do not think I would want that.” Especially if it were because he was supposed to do it. Only in her heart she truly did not want that. He would be the scandal of the year if he married a woman whose father was in Newgate for counterfeiting, and suspected perhaps of much worse.
Then there was the matter of the trial. She worried now that if Ives did not prosecute, someone less honest and more ruthless would. If there had been one misgiving last night, it had been that she did not bind him to her cause, but instead might force him to abandon the entire case.
“Ives, perhaps it would be better if we did not—”
“No. At least not yet. Of all the choices, I reject that one. Unless you insist, of course.”
He expected her to choose now. Did it end here, on this hill?
She gazed out at the peaceful land. “How different this is from London. So far away from it in more than distance. I might be in a different world, that is how novel and new this place is. Magical.” She looked at him. “I rather like how separate it is from what waits for me there.”
There were reasons, good reasons, why she should indeed insist, but they were also far away and right now, sitting here with his strength beside her and the intimacy a recent memory, none of that seemed to weigh much.
“I will not insist, even if it would be the wise path. Of course, not succumbing to begin with would have been the smartest thing, for both of us. I will not insist. At least not yet, as you said.”
Her answer pleased him.
“If you are not the kind of woman I normally have as a lover,” he said,“I have concluded I have to rethink things. Do it differently. It should not be too hard.”
“Do what differently?”
“I will have to leave your bed well before dawn, so you are not found with me there. No one will be fooled, but appearances matter.”
He looked down to where her left hand rested on the blanket. His fingertips stroked its back. “Instead of barging into your chamber and ravishing you, I should probably seduce you.”
“I thought you do not believe in seduction.”
“I never thought it worth my time before.”
“Does that mean we will also forgo those other negotiations that you consider so efficient?”
He looked at her hand while he stroked it. His fingers meandered up her arm. “We did not need them last night.”
“I suspect what happened last night is not why you make your expectations known with those mistresses.”
That amused him. “You are too clever, Padua. But I do not want to make a list with you. It seems cold-blooded, and inappropriate.” He rose up on his arm, so he warmed her side. “If I request a favor you do not want to grant, you must say so. If I assume too much, you must stop me. I think you will do that, and I will never be disappointed if you do.”
It sounded fair enough. She wondered just what kind of favors he required of those mistresses, however. Just how bad could he be at times?
A kiss on her shoulder distracted her from that thought. Warm breath on her neck raised trembles she knew well now. She closed her eyes so she felt each delicious shiver. His fingertips feathered along her bodice’s edge, then lower until they brushed against her breast just enough for the sensation to penetrate her garments and arouse her.
“Are you practicing at seduction, Ives?” She enjoyed the little teases. She hoped he continued a long time.
His kiss warmed her ear. “It is a well-known fact that one learns from doing.”
“I would say you have a natural talent for it.”
“It runs in the family, I am told. It has been perverse of me to deny the legacy.” He turned her head, and brushed her lips with his. Such a soft touch, barely there, but breathlessness claimed her.
“I am honored that you think me worth the effort,” she whispered.
He rested his palm against her cheek and looked in her eyes. “I am the one who is honored, Padua.” The kiss he gave her made her believe he meant that. It was deep, soulful, and very, very seductive.
They lay in an embrace on the blanket, warmed by the sun and cooled by the breeze. They shared the sweetest kisses and a passion different from the night. Deeper somehow, and drenched with a different intimacy. And yet, despite their interfering garments and for all of the slow
building of desire, she found herself on the edge of total abandon again and wishing they were back in bed where there could be more.
As if he heard her mind, his caresses on her leg raised her dress’s hem. She felt the fabric inching higher, and his palm against her bare skin. Higher yet, so that the air cooled her legs, and the dress no longer constricted her. He left her embrace and moved to kneel between her knees.
“Up.” A pat on her hip showed what he meant. She raised her hips and he pushed the dress up to her waist, so her lower body was exposed.
She looked up at him. He appeared so stern in his passion, his jaw tight and mouth hard. Except his eyes showed depths and hot lights while he kept his hand on her, giving her pleasure. The mere sight of him entranced her, and she could not know any embarrassment.
He came over her, braced on his taut arms. His head dipped down and he took her mouth in a deep, tense kiss. “I am going to finish what I started in London. You did not allow it then. Will you now?”
She realized what he meant. “You intend me to have the most wicked twenty-four hours, it appears.”
He just waited, persuading her with touches that left her desperately needy.
A magical place. Another world. She would dwell here for only a few days. She doubted she would deny him anything, since she had so little time.
She nodded. He lowered his head for another deep kiss. Then he moved down her body.
She looked up at the sky and clouds, at the leaves moving above her on the breeze. She became breathless with anticipation.
The touches became very specific. Devastating. Pleasure screamed through her. She clutched at the blanket, twisting her hand in its wool so she might not thrash the way she wanted to. A new stroke, gentle enough, made the sensations sharpen even more. The intensity frightened her. He bent her knees so his mouth might have better purchase.
He took advantage of her openness. She felt his tongue enter. She thought she would die from pleasure right there. She lost hold of herself after that. Her consciousness spiraled down into a single point of physical need. It became almost painful, until incendiary release exploded.
Tall, Dark, and Wicked (Wicked Trilogy) Page 16