They laughed, and Ives was grateful at Gareth’s ability to lighten even the darkest night.
“I will clean my pistol,” Gareth said as they entered the house. “Just tell me where, when, and what. I will be there. Now, I am going to retire.”
“I think I will have a smoke before I leave.”
Gareth grinned. He came over and cocked his head closely. “The servant stairs are more convenient to her chamber. Also more discreet.”
* * *
Ives entered the library, prepared to dally for the length of one cigar before seeking the servant stairs. He did not find the chamber empty the way he expected. Lance still sat in a comfortable chair near the fire, his port on a table near his arm.
“I thought you were retiring,” Ives said, taking a cigar from the box and preparing it.
“I have been thinking.”
“You cannot do that in your apartment?”
“I chose to do it here. Do you mind?”
He did. He would have to wait Lance out now. A very big, very comfortable bed waited, with a very lovely, very willing woman in it. He did not want to humor Lance when he could be with Padua instead.
Lance gestured lazily to a nearby chair, inviting him over. Ives poured himself some port and carried it and the cigar to the fireplace. He settled in. This might take hours.
“Miss Belvoir looked lovely tonight,” Lance said.
“I thought so.”
“Eva was happy to have another woman here.”
“We probably bore her.”
Lance fingered his glass, then looked over. “Did you know Miss Belvoir has been living in a chamber at the top of Mrs. Lavender’s house?”
Ives almost choked on cigar smoke. He cleared his throat. “Who told you that?”
“Susan. She is the young lady who entertained me there. She had all kinds of revelations.”
“You were chatting? You were supposed to be fucking.”
“We chatted between fucking. Have you never done that? Do you just lie there, silent, while you recover?”
“I am mostly astonished to learn you spent all that time with one of them. I assumed that you intended to spread the ducal favor far and wide.”
“It was my plan, but when Susan let me know she was not averse to ignoring many of Mrs. Lavender’s fussy rules, I thought I would do best staying the course, as it were.”
Ives trusted Lance would now lose himself in waxing nostalgic about his visit to his youthful haunt. Alas, it was not to be.
“She said that Miss Belvoir introduced herself to all of them. Sat to a meal with them. Said her father was a partner, and she was now too. I am not a fastidious man, Ives. It is not for me to lecture—”
“I’ll say.”
“However, is it a good idea to bring her here when Eva is in residence? For someone who never let his women near the family, your blindness to basic propriety with this madam is troubling.”
“She is not a madam.”
“So Susan had it wrong?”
Ives puffed away.
Lance waited, all curiosity.
“It is very complicated,” Ives said.
“Take your time. I have all night.”
“I don’t.”
Lance glanced to the ceiling. “Ah. Of course. The dinner was only the prelude. The symphony has yet to play. Well off with you then, to lead the tempo with your baton. You can explain it all tomorrow.”
“I have nothing to explain to you.”
“But you do. Our breaking into that building, for example. We stole something. You stole something else. All of it is important, I am sure. All if it has to do with Miss Belvoir. I think another adventure is going to occur as well, because it all smelled of a job unfinished. Do not even try to leave me out of the denouement, when it comes. I will make your life hell if you do.”
Ives stubbed out his cigar. Lance could make his life hell. He managed to do that without trying. If he put his effort to it—
“Out of curiosity, how did you pay Mrs. Lavender, Lance?”
“With a twenty-pound note.”
“She gave you notes back, then?”
Lance laughed. “Many. There isn’t a whore in London worth more than two or three.”
“Do you have any of those notes on you now?”
Lance thought about it, then rummaged in his pockets. He deposited several crumpled banknotes on the table beside him. “I expect those are them. They were on my dressing table. I must have thrown them there when I came back.”
Ives picked up the notes. He smoothed them, then carried them to the lamp.
“I trust they are good,” Lance said.
Ives set them back on the table.
“Good, and not printed on that little press we found in the cellar, that is,” Lance added.
“They all look to be genuine.”
Lance peered at them. “You are sure? Some of these fellows are experts with the burin.”
“I am sure.” He walked to the door. “I am leaving now.”
Lance just smiled at him.
“If you cannot sleep, Lance, you might spend the time doing something more worthwhile than wondering about my inexplicable lack of propriety. You might, for example, clean your pistols.”
* * *
Padua heard the door to the dressing room open. She heard boot steps, then saw the tall shadow at the dressing room’s threshold. It disappeared, and muffled sounds came out of the other chamber.
Her body grew sensitive to the sensation of the sheet’s fabric against her bare skin. Her breasts swelled and firmed as anticipation teased her.
Ives reappeared and walked to the bed. He was naked. He stood beside her. He drew off the sheet and looked at her.
She looked at him too. The small lamp’s light washed him in a golden glow that defined his form in highlights and deep shadows. His eyes appeared as deeply green as a dense forest’s foliage. His face, always so handsome, held the hard angles that reflected his desire.
She wondered what game he would choose to play, or if there would be a new one. It surprised her when he joined her, and wrapped her in a commonplace embrace. His gaze moved over her face slowly while his fingers twisted lazily in a strand of her hair.
“There is nothing ordinary about you, Padua. Not even your beauty.”
It was not said like an easy flattery, but instead thoughtfully while he subjected her to that gaze. She believed he really meant it, even though no one before Ives had ever called her beautiful.
He rose up on his arm, so he could watch his fingertips trace along her body. She had expected hard, even violent passion, so this meandering caress charmed her. Then she realized what he was doing. He was making memories, much as she had done several times now. He was storing this night in his head where he might visit again.
It touched her deeply that he sought to do that. He had not liked it when she broke things off. Perhaps there had been more to it than wounded pride, the way she had assumed.
He kissed her slowly, deeply, wonderfully. Her heart stretched and filled until it ached. His caresses began guiding her out of the everyday world, toward the rare existence that she experienced when he controlled her pleasure. He knew her very well now, knew her body and how to make the pleasure sweet, then maddening, then so powerful it shattered her hold on herself.
He used all his skill, as if he wanted her to remember too. The intimacy deepened along with the pleasure, the two so intertwined that they became one. It awed her, moved her, so that her heart held on to both desperately, just as she held on to him. Yes, her mind chanted, accepting everything she experienced, even the sweet ache that colored the beauty with sadness.
He came over when the first tremors of her release tantalized her. He bent her knees, then lifted her legs over his shoulders. Braced on his arms, he looked down between their bodies and watched how he entered her. He closed his eyes at the sensation. “Yes.” His own affirmation echoed hers.
She watched what it did to him. She never had befo
re. She watched how the pleasure both hardened his expression and transformed it. She watched how his gaze both ravished her and adored her. She saw how he sought signs of what she wanted, and made sure he answered her need.
Yes, she breathed as he moved in her. Yes, aloud now, when he thrust harder. She laid her palms on his chest above her, and his heartbeat pulsed into her body. Yes, she cried as wildness set in and her mind narrowed until it knew only him. Then she even lost hold of him, and the pleasure tightened and broke and screamed.
He waited for her on the other side, his heart pounding beneath her palm, his breathing ragged. He moved her legs down and lowered onto her with a never-ending kiss on her neck.
She filled her embrace with him, and her head with his scent and sounds, and her soul with his care. Have you fallen in love with him, Padua? It is not the same as desire or passion. Yes, not the same, but not so different. Not separate. Have you fallen in love with him? Yes.
CHAPTER 23
For two nights Ives and Padua waited. Two nights Gareth held vigil in the alley. For two nights nothing happened. On the third day, Ives made a decision on a matter he had been debating. He rode to the Home Office, and called on Strickland.
“Do you want to catch a whale?”
Strickland’s eyes lit. “Hell, yes. Nothing would advance my career faster. Do you have one in your sights?”
“I do. Bringing you into it comes with conditions, however.”
Strickland grimaced. “A lot of lawyer talk is coming, isn’t it?”
“Some. I will be relying on your friendship more than any formal terms, however. That, and your word as a gentleman.”
“You had better let me hear those conditions. I am suddenly uneasy.”
“I have reason to think that Belvoir’s accomplices will be making themselves known tonight. You are welcome to join me when they do.”
Strickland eyed him. “And the condition?”
“If I am wrong, you never speak of what you see or hear.”
Strickland thought that over. “That is a damnable condition.”
Ives shrugged. “Have it your way. Do not say I did not offer.” He turned to the door.
“Now wait. Give a man a minute to think things over.” He did. “How bad might things be if you are wrong?”
“No worse for you than for me.”
“I don’t find that reassuring, for some reason.”
“Your choice is simple, as is mine. We can let a man stand trial for crimes that far surpass his guilt, or we can attempt to bring the real culprits to justice. Remember justice? It is why we do what we do. This is England, and the word used to mean something here.”
Strickland flushed. “Do not preach at me. I’ll not sit for it when I know in my gut you are up to something that you shouldn’t do.”
“You are right. I should not preach. I will instead appeal to your baser desires to further your career.”
Strickland’s face reddened more. “What must I do?”
“Go to Langley House at eight o’clock this evening. My brother Gareth will be there. He will tell you what to do.”
* * *
They waited again, but it was different this time. Padua sensed something in the air, a pending excitement. Ives remained more alert, listening to every sound that came through the walls.
“Mrs. Lavender took ill after dinner,” Padua reported. “She seemed fine, the servants said, then later complained of a malady of the stomach.”
Ives looked over from where he sat, looking at nothing, thinking. Waiting. “Was Emily Trenholm at that dinner?”
“Perhaps so. It was said Mrs. Lavender was relieved Emily would be able to stand in at the office.”
Ives stood and went to the door. He looked out, then closed it. “I think it will happen differently from what we expected. I do not think the man we seek will come to this door.”
“Then how?” She had accommodated her nerves to the idea Ives would be right near her when that man arrived.
“If Emily has taken Mrs. Lavender’s place, I think he will walk in the front door, like a patron.” He raked his hair with his fingers. “I will return in two minutes. If anyone comes here, do not leave the chamber. Put them off if they try to call you away.”
He slipped out, leaving her to worry. This was far worse than waiting the last time. Her stomach churned. She experienced a wave of relief when Ives returned. He took a look at her and crouched near her chair so he could see her face.
“You do not have to do this. We can find another way.”
“What other way is there? I must do it. If I do not, I will have nothing to use to bargain for my father.”
“I do not like to think of you afraid.”
“A little fear will not harm me. Deep in my heart, I am not as fearful as I may appear either. I know you will not be far away. I know they are not so stupid as to harm me.”
He grasped her hand. He stood and bent down to give her a kiss, but froze when a scratch on the door interrupted.
Ives stepped out of sight, pressing to the wall. Shaking, Padua opened the door a crack.
A servant girl stood there. “Emily asks that you come down, miss. To the office. She is having trouble with a patron over payment. With Mrs. Lavender gone, she wants your help and advice.”
Padua almost said to tell Emily to have Hector throw the patron out, before she realized this was the other way Ives had expected.
“Tell her I will be down very soon. I need to make myself presentable.”
The servant girl walked away. Padua closed the door.
“Agree to nothing right away,” Ives said. “Even if he wants to give you two thousand, bargain for more to keep him talking.”
“But what do I say if he wants to know where the equipment is? I have claimed to know, but I don’t.”
He appeared torn. “Say it is in that cellar.”
“Is it?”
“It was. There is still some paper and bad money there.”
“Now you tell me?”
“If you did not know, you would not have to lie. Questions might have come from others besides the man you will meet tonight. Scold me later if you want.”
She would definitely do that.
She closed her eyes, to compose herself. She did not need to do anything to her person. She already was presentable. She had dressed tonight to look like a prosperous business owner, not an impoverished schoolteacher.
Ives tapped her shoulder. Before he opened the door, he gave her a kiss.
She battled excitement and fear as she walked down the stairs. She wanted to sound poised and in command, and sought that voice inside herself. She would think of them as students, she decided. Students who had not learned their lesson for today.
Hector stood guard by the door. Before going to the office, she approached him. “Is Mrs. Lavender faring better?”
He turned black, worried eyes on her. “Not worse, at least. I thought the food, maybe—no one else is sick.”
“Send for a physician, Hector. Tell him that her food may have been tainted or poisoned.”
The whites of his eyes showed more at the last word. Hector angry was a sight to behold. “Who?”
“I do not know. Send for the physician, then keep your ears open.”
* * *
Padua entered the office without asking permission. Emily was not Mrs. Lavender, after all.
She found Emily in a têtê-a-têtê with a man. Not especially tall, he wore riding clothes and his face was unshaved. Close-set round eyes peered at her from his narrow face. He gave the impression of having ridden a good distance recently.
Emily snapped her mouth shut upon Padua’s intrusion. She appeared older and harder up close. Sitting in her window, one might think her attractive. Now deep lines by her mouth marked her character. A sharp chin gave her a belligerent appearance.
“Is this the gentleman who is objecting to the fees?” Padua asked.
“Not objecting as such,” Emily said
. “He wants to use a bank draft.”
Padua remained standing, and noted how the man did not stand, too, as a polite man would. “We do not take bank drafts, sir. In all the years here, Mrs. Lavender never has. There can be no exceptions.”
The man just looked at her. Judging. Assessing.
“If your business is concluded, sir—” Padua began.
“Not yet concluded, Miss Belvoir. You’ve something I want, and it is not one of those whores you sell.”
“I cannot imagine what that might be.”
“Of course you can. You sent for me. I am not pleased about that, so let us settle matters quickly.”
Padua looked pointedly at Emily.
“She can stay,” he said. “Although she has been nigh useless to me recently.”
“I found your men a place to store it all, didn’t I?” Emily snapped.
“Aye, the chamber of an idiot who left it in plain sight for anyone to see. You were supposed to keep an eye on it too. You just watched as they carted it away.”
“What was I to do? Object? Say it was mine, and the magistrate couldn’t have it?”
“You could have taken the next trunk when it came, instead of telling my boys that the constables had visited. You scared them off to hell knows where, without them leaving so much as word of where they had the press. That has cost me plenty.”
Emily jabbed her thumb toward Padua. “I got Mrs. Lavender to talking about that partner of hers and I learned about this one here, didn’t I? So you could write and let her know her father was in prison, so’s he might tell her what he knew.”
Padua interrupted. “My father is not an idiot.”
The man looked at her, astonished. Then he burst out laughing. “Defending him, are you? Now that is pretty coming from a daughter willing to sell him out for two thousand.”
“I am glad that we are turning the conversation in the correct direction. Did you bring it with you?”
He leaned forward. His eyes narrowed. “I’ll see you dead before I hand you two thousand.”
* * *
Ives almost burst in the door on hearing the threat. Strickland’s firm grasp on his arm stopped him.
Out in the anteroom to the office, Lance spoke. “They are closed today, gentlemen. An illness. See yourselves out, will you? Hector is occupied.”
Tall, Dark, and Wicked (Wicked Trilogy) Page 26