Once they were gone, Sam pinned him with a steady gaze and just watched Rodney for several seconds. After several tense minutes he couldn't take the silent treatment any longer.
"What is it you wanted to talk to me about," Rodney demanded.
Sam stared unblinking back, then turned and began a slow perusal of the club. He stopped and stared at the table that Mary, Binsby and three others were playing vingt et un at.
Without turning back around he said, "I heard some interesting rumors tonight. Something about a straight-laced and stodgy former naval officer being thrown out of a gambling hell and then coming out of the Bow Street magistrate's office half-dressed an hour later. All while in the company of a bearded fellow that he's been seen chumming around with most of the night."
Sam turned back to him and fixed Rodney with a steady gaze. "A man who looks a great deal like the fellow over there currently playing cards with Binsby."
"What's your point," Rodney demanded.
Sam shrugged his shoulders. "Just wondering if you knew anything about it."
He glared back and asked defiantly, "Why should I?"
Sam glanced over his shoulder and then back. "Just wondering. That is all."
Rodney knew he was fishing but had no intention of taking the bait. After several more minutes his friend turned and stared at the table across the room. "I'm assuming that Binsby is the reason you are sitting here pretending to be drinking."
There was no use lying about it as he and the rest of London would hear about Binsby's downfall if Mary's plan worked. "He is," he confirmed.
Sam turned back to him. "Are you planning on challenging him to a duel after all?"
"No."
Sam blinked. "Forcing him to challenge you to one?"
"Not if I can avoid it," Rodney answered truthfully. A duel wouldn't help Mary regain her reputation.
Sam nodded his head. "But you are up to something. And I'm assuming it has something to do with the rather diminutive fellow over there currently relieving the reprobate of his blunt, right?”
Rodney remained quiet but the corner of his mouth quirked up just a little.
"I thought as much," Sam said and then stood up. "Well, if it should come to a duel, I suggest you ask me to be your second and not one of those two." He nodded in the general direction of James and Kirby. "They won't be of any use in the morning. Frankly, I’m not sure they would be even if they weren't half snookered."
"I appreciate the offer," Rodney said. He was grateful. But he prayed it wouldn't come to a dawn appointment.
Sam glanced over at the table once more and then nodded. "Good luck to you and your friend," he said and then went in search of James and Kirby.
An uneasiness settled over Rodney as he watched Sam retrieve the other two and shepherd them towards the front door. His gut told him that his friend knew a great deal more about Mary than he was letting on. Which meant that once this was all over, he would need to have a long talk with him. He couldn't allow his friend to endanger her chances of a new life.
But for now he had other, more important things he needed to concentrate on. Such as keeping Mary safe until this business with Binsby was over.
Chapter 11
7:00 AM
The night had gone better than he had dreamt it would. Apparently, Mary had relieved Binsby of nearly every cent he owned. But she had also won his brand-new phaeton with a matching set of greys, his townhouse in Mayfair, and a small farm and manner house in Surrey. The last two had bothered Rodney at first. He wanted retribution for what the man had done to his father. Yet he didn't want him completely homeless. Then, before he could devise a way to return the property to him, he heard some of the other players jeering that Binsby deserved what he got. He had just won all three of them himself the day before. The men couldn't prove it, but they all suspected him of cheating during that game.
However, the highlight of the night came as the sun was just beginning to peek over the rooftops of London. Mary had just played her last card and divested Binsby of the small manner house and farm. From the look on Binsby's face, Rodney was sure he was going to end up in a duel with the man after all. And then the same Bow Street Runners that had arrested him earlier stepped forward and interrupted whatever the man was about to do.
Accompanied by the sixth Duke of Devonshire, the Bow Street Runners promptly arrested Binsby for a fraudulent investment scheme that sounded very similar to the one that had nearly ruined Rodney's father. He wished he could have charged the man with that crime as well. But he couldn't. So, he took perverse delight in knowing the man would pay for his crimes one way or the other.
Breaking into his thoughts, Mary asked, "Do you think he will be hanged?"
He glanced over at her in the dimly lit hackney. They had just pulled away from the hell and were headed to his room at the Park Plaza hotel. She looked lost and very troubled over the prospect of his enemy being hanged. Which he empathized with.
"If he is found guilty, it is more likely that he'll be transported to Botany Bay," Rodney replied. She shuddered beside him and he reached over and drew her into his arms.
"I don't want him to hang but I've heard horrible stories about Australia and its penal colony," she said.
Memories of Sydney flashed through his mind. His ship had made port there three different times over the years. It was as bad as the rumors said it was. "He'd be alive," he told her. "And from what I've learned about the man, I suspect once his sentence is served, he will probably thrive there." Which was a shame as far as Rodney was concerned. But like Mary, he didn't what the man's death on his conscience. He just wanted him to pay for his crimes.
Pushing Binsby from his mind he rejoiced in the best development of the night. When they had entered the darkened interior of the hackney Mary had settled right beside him on the worn bench. It was the second time tonight she had forgotten her roll and disguise as a man. And he wasn't about to remind her either. So, he had pulled the tattered curtains shut and waited. For what he hadn't been sure. But now he knew.
With his arm draped across her shoulders, he hugged her experimentally again to see how she would react. To his delight she turned and pressed her face into his chest and flung her arm across his waist. Her faux beard bristled even through his overcoat and layers of clothes. Or at least it seemed to in his mind.
"The night is over," he said to the top of her head. She nodded and burrowed deeper into his coat. "Do you think you can lose the beard and wig?" he asked.
His heart banged painfully against his ribs as he waited. The clip-clop of the horse's hooves against the cobblestones echoed in the confined space of the hackney. From the bustling street someone shouted an obscenity. And from above his head he heard the answering rebuke as the driver swerved to avoid whatever congestion now clogged the streets.
"I still need to get into the house without being seen," she said even as she reached up and began peeling the wig from her head.
Rodney's heart sored as he reached to help remove the offensive thing. Once it was gone, she pulled away and he mourned the loss of her weight against him. But not for long as her hands tentatively rose and began slowly and methodically peeling the more offensive fake beard away from her face.
She grimaced several times and he realized it was hurting her to remove it. "Can I help?" he asked, feeling helpless but not knowing what to do. He had had no idea how the thing had been affixed to her face and now felt like a heel for asking her to remove it.
She shook her head slightly as she exposed more and more of her face. Which was flush as if she had a sun burn. "It's easier to get off with water and a cream we use at the theatre. I just have to be a little gentler when I do so without wetting it down first."
His guilt rose with each grimace. But he had wanted to kiss her and hadn't wanted the distraction of the cursed beard in the way. Not that it had hampered him before. And now that the deception was over, he wanted the thing gone so there would be no hindrances to what he
wanted to do with her lips this time.
Normally Mary would have never considered removing her disguise before she was safely back in her own home. But this hadn't been a normal night. There had always been a good dose of trepidation and nervousness when she masqueraded as Arthur Johnson.
Actually, there had also been a great deal of exhilaration when she had gone out as Arthur as well. As an actress the thrill of fooling people up close had been too tantalizing to pass up. So had the chance to dupe the very men who clambered for her favors and believed as a woman she should be grateful for their attention. Which she had never been.
But tonight had not been about her. It had been about helping the man she had loved for years. Her past successes and desire to help Rodney had precipitated her hatching her plan for the night. Mary knew, if given the chance, she could win most of his family's money back from Binsby.
What she had not counted on was her own level of anxiety going up so much. Mary had never considered just how much was at stake when she had formulated her plans. She risked a lot. She always had when she went out as Arthur Johnson. But never as much as she had tonight. In the past it had always been just herself and her livelihood that she had risked. During the fight at the Devil's Cove, Mary had suddenly realized she was risking much, much more than just herself this time. She was risking Abigail's future as well. And she was risking Rodney's life and reputation as an honorable man.
Her resolve had faltered and she had nearly told him then and there to forget her crazy idea. Unfortunately, too much was riding on her success. Mary knew-or was fairly sure-she could pull off the most important ruse of her life, becoming respectable again. But she also knew that it could all come crashing down around her if someone from her past ever put the two parts of her life together and exposed her. Rodney’s support would help. But even that might not be enough.
So, for Abby's sake, Mary wanted his help to become a respectable woman again. And Rodney needed her help to regain the money Binsby had swindled out of his father to make his dreams come true. So, she had buried her fears and had pressed on.
Now the night was over and so was the need for her disguise. Intuitively she could tell Rodney wanted to kiss her again. And since this might be her last chance to kiss the man she loved, Mary wanted to do it as herself and not as one of the characters she had played the last eight years of her life.
The last of the beard fell away and his fingers immediately began to caress her face. Soothing the burning itchiness that the glue and fake hair always caused.
"Criminal," he whispered to her.
Her heart lurched and a shiver coursed through her. Was he calling her a criminal or the damage she did to her face with the stage cosmetics and disguise?
Dispelling her worries, he said, "Promise me that you will never wear that thing again."
She glanced up and saw his eyes sweeping over her face, cataloging the rash she knew now dotted her face. Suddenly, slowly he leaned toward her and placed a gentle kiss over one of the spots itching the worse. Instantly the burning sensation ceased and a flutter in her stomach took its place.
His fingers moved to her chin and tilted her face up towards his. He exhaled on a sigh and grimaced slightly. "Criminal," he whispered as his lips touch the tip of her chin.
Mary moaned. She couldn't help it because what he was doing felt so good. Her head fell back and she presented her neck to him. It too itched, but not as much thanks to the soothing balm of his kisses. Mary needed and wanted his lips on her throat.
Rodney's fingers drifted down her neck and pressed her cravat out of his way. His lips quickly followed. Kissing and nibbling as he went. Then suddenly he stopped and leaned away from her.
She moaned and clutched the back of his head and tried to press his lips back down to her neck. "Don't stop," she pleaded.
"I've no intentions of stopping, sweetheart," he replied. Mary's eyes popped open in time to see him grinning down at her in a smoldering way. "I'm just going to play valet and help you remove some of this frippery.
It wasn't how she had dreamed about it but having Rodney undress her had been a fantasy of hers since she was seventeen. The slide of the knot in her cravat as it came undone was exciting. And the feel of the silk as he slowly pulled it free was sensual. Tantalizing. And was making her body hum with anticipation.
Once it was free, he lifted it to his nose and sniffed in a long breath. "Roses and lilac," he whispered as his eyes met hers over the silky white cloth. "How could anyone mistake you for anything but the most enchanting woman I have ever known?"
With that he dropped the cloth and Mary watched it flutter to the seat behind him.
Every emotion Rodney had been feeling during the night converged as he stared into the passion drenched depths of her emerald green eyes. Even in the flickering dim light of the hackney, the brightness of her eyes sparkled with anticipation. She wanted him as much as he wanted her.
His fingers went to the top most button on her shirt and she came alive. A smile as bright as the morning sun breaking over the ocean’s horizon. He heard her giggle as her own fingers flew to the buttons on his borrowed waistcoat. By the time he reached for the second button on her shirt she was ripping open his vest and going to work on the ones on his own shirt.
"Easy, darling," he said as she tore at the buttons marching down his shirt.
A brilliant grin spread across her face as she yanked open his shirt and slipped her hands in between and splayed them over his chest.
"I've been thinking about doing this all night long," she said.
"So have I," he replied.
Giving into his burning need to taste her he crushed his lips against hers. There was no ambiguousness this time. No preamble. No nothing but deep seeded need to taste her essence. His tongue slipped between her lips to mate with hers. And there was no hesitation on her part as she met him thrust for thrust.
He sucked and she moaned. Then she sucked his tongue into her mouth and he growled deep in his throat. In the back of his mind he heard a ripping sound and felt her hands exploring more and more of his bare chest.
His own hand went to the closure of her shirt and he plucked ineffectively at the buttons in an attempt to bare her breast to his touch.
She pulled away and scolded, "For the love of God, Kenny, just rip the damn thing. It's not like I'm ever going to wear it again."
It was all the encouragement he needed. His hands slipped down to her waistcoat and jerked. The pinging of buttons as they scattered across the cab echoed in the enclosed space. Even as they continued to dance across the floor, he grasped the top of her shirt and ripped it open as she had done to his.
Confused and bewildered he gazed down at his handiwork and tried to understand what he was seeing. A white bandage completely covered her breast and what looked like a hard-packed pillow was wrapped around her waist, completely obliterating her woman’s shape from his view. The offensive things were worse than the most restrictive corset he had ever seen.
His eyes rose to hers and her smile became impish. "A corset and chemise didn't go too well with the ensemble," she said.
It took forever for her words to penetrate his lust-drugged brain. And then the hackney took a sharp turn and he grabbed for the side of the coach to steady himself. The sounds of early morning London waking up intruded through the windows. Reality slammed into him as he realized he was about to ravish the woman he loved in a smelly and dirty hackney.
"Of course," he stammered. "I'm sorry. I should have realized." His eyes flickered about the interior and shame washed over him. How could he have treated the woman he wanted to make his wife in such a shabby way? When he looked back at her he expected to see disgust or disappointment on her face. What he found was the gritty determination that had been the hallmark of their childhood relationship.
"Rodney. Kenneth. Hamling. You can quit whatever it is you are thinking right now. Do you hear me? I want this just as much as you do."
The corner
of his mouth quirked up as he made a slow perusal of her disheveled clothes. "I'm glad to hear it." He glanced around the interior of the cab and then back at her. "But do you really want to do this in a filthy hack?"
She blinked up at him and then turned and gazed around them. When she looked back, Mary grimace slightly and shrug her shoulders indifferently.
He pressed his point, "By the time I get you out of all those things-" he nodded down at her bindings and male underpinning, "-we will be at the hotel." Rodney leaned over and pulled the curtain aside and studied the passing streets and buildings. He dropped them back in to place and faced her once again.
"I figure we have about ten minutes or less in this traffic before we reach our destination." He made a slow perusal of her disheveled clothes and then locked his gaze on her face. "Enough time for me to make you somewhat presentable. If we're lucky." He grinned to soften the comment and hoped he hadn't insulted her.
Mary grinned back and made an even slower and sensuous perusal of his person. His cock jumped and pressed painfully against the packet of his pantaloons. "Which means I have that long to make you presentable as well." Her eyes dipped to the bulge in his pantaloons and she grinned wickedly down at him, causing it to stir uncomfortably once again. "Or we could ask the driver to take a turn around the park and spent the time to finish what we started."
Rodney smiled back at her and lifted his arms to her. Her face blossomed with the delight as she moved towards him. But rather than pull her into his arms he stayed her with a hand to her chest. The supple warmth of her skin invaded his soul, and he couldn't believe what he was about to say.
"Mary, what I have in mind will take longer than a drive around the park. Or even a tour of London." Her head cocked adorably to the side as she regarded him. He glanced around the interior of the cab and then back at her. "And a good deal more room than this will allow."
The Earl's Night of Being Wild (The Fallen Angels NOVELLA series Book 3) Page 8