“Wouldn’t have thought of that. Let me call for Mrs. Coleman.” Before Amelia could protest, Jenny walked over to the bed where the servants’ bell was tucked behind the canopy’s fall of fabric.
Jenny returned to Amelia’s side and went about pinning pieces of hair into an elaborate bun on top of her head. The young woman had a way of making it look more intricate a style than it really was. Amelia stared at her reflection in the mirror, a little in awe to see herself dressed up. She had never worn a dress of such beauty. In fact, it was more lavish than anything she’d ever seen.
It wasn’t long before Mrs. Coleman came into the room, and she seemed not at all surprised that Amelia was being readied for a grand affair. Jenny explained what they needed, hoping there was something in the house they could use for Amelia’s hair. Mrs. Coleman squeezed Amelia’s shoulder, her eyes misting a little as she looked her over. Then she was gone. Amelia wanted to ask why she’d caused such a reaction from the housekeeper, but bit her tongue.
She must pretend that her being dressed for the evening was a normal affair and that Huxley would have filled this task of accompanying Mr. Riley before her arrival, but there was a niggling doubt at the back of her mind saying otherwise. So what exactly did the rest of the household think of her? Did they assume she was Mr. Riley’s mistress?
Clearing her throat, Amelia asked, “Why do you suppose a secretary is needed to attend this meeting?”
“Mr. Riley needs another set of eyes and ears,” Jenny explained. “Think of it as a test. He’s gonna need to know how you interpret people, your impressions of them. This will be the best setting to get to know the people he has aligned himself with.”
“Why would Huxley not attend?”
Just as Jenny was twisting the last strand of Amelia’s hair into the bun, Mrs. Coleman came back into the room holding out a strand of onyx beads.
It looked like a necklace, but it was only the length of a choker. Jenny took it and wrapped it through Amelia’s hair like a flower wreath on May Day.
“There,” said Jenny stepping back, admiring her handiwork.
Amelia walked to the middle of the room so she could see the full look in her small mirror. A gasp of shock escaped when she saw the image staring back; she barely recognized herself.
“Why should I attend at all? I’m still trying to understand everything Mr. Riley does.” She smoothed her hand over the front of her dress. “I feel awkward and fear Mr. Riley’s business partners will find me lacking. Surely he has a friend who can attend in my place.”
Mrs. Coleman stepped toward her and brushed a stray piece of hair from Amelia’s temple. “He used to attend these events with Miss Victoria. But they have broken off.”
Amelia’s breath caught as a stab of hurt nicked her heart and knocked down her confidence a smidgen. Of course he’d be romantically involved with other women. Women far more beautiful and refined than she, and likely far better trained in the art of innuendo. Far more aware of what he wanted. She felt lacking in an entirely different way now.
“This is not me.” This time she said it more for herself, looking at her image in the mirror that seemed so alien. Maybe in another time, another place, she could have had this, but now . . .
“Were they engaged?” She pressed her lips together. How could she ask them such a question?
Both women chuckled, and Jenny shook her head. Amelia understood then what Victoria’s and Mr. Riley’s relationship had been, and she hated having that knowledge at all. And though she shouldn’t care, she wondered if Mr. Riley had broken off with Miss Victoria prior to Amelia’s joining his house. And why should that be relevant? She swallowed back the disappointment she felt.
She hated the idea of asking another stupid question, so she didn’t ask more on what the night ahead might bring. Without another worrying thought, she cleared her throat and announced, “Shall we go downstairs and end the suspense?”
Without waiting for a response, she did just that, pausing at the door when she saw the cane. Should she bring it? She rotated her foot, feeling the now familiar ache of her ankle and grabbed the cane on her way out the door.
She might feel silly, hobbling around with a support usually reserved for old crippled men, but it was better to use the cane than fall on her face and look like a fool in front of the people dining with Mr. Riley.
Though she made her way to the study fully expecting to wait for Mr. Riley to join her, he was already sitting behind his desk, head down as he read the newspaper.
Mr. Riley looked up as she approached his desk. His eyes didn’t leave her face as he stared at her. “You look delicious enough to consume.”
She felt her cheeks burn and had to dip her head to hide the blush that seemed to have also stolen her voice.
He came around his desk and took one of her gloved hands, raised it to his mouth, and kissed her knuckles. She dared to look at him then and could see the gray of his eyes eaten up by the black of his pupils. She swallowed, not sure what she should say, or how she should react to his forward nature. She slid her hand from his grasp and tucked it behind her back as she faced him.
“Where will we dine this evening?” she asked.
“South Langtry.”
While Amelia might not be familiar with London, there were some places everyone knew. “I have heard wonderful things about the establishment.”
“I should hope so. Hart owns it.”
“Oh . . . ” What did she say to that? After responding to invitations and forgotten correspondence the last few days, she knew that he mingled with the upper echelon of society. Why shouldn’t one of his business partners be the hotelier who happened to own the nicest, most luxuriant hotel in all of England?
“Why did you not warn me about tonight?” she asked.
“I didn’t want this to be an ordeal or for you to fret over it. It’s a dinner with the closest of my friends, and we do this once a month. You’ll have to grow accustomed to such affairs while working with me.”
“Because you broke off with your mistress?” Amelia slapped her hands over her mouth. How dare she utter such a thing—and right to her employer’s face.
“My mistress?” Though he said it like a question, she could see in his eyes that he knew precisely what she was talking about.
Amelia cleared her throat and turned away from him, wanting to escape his company but unsure how to do just that when she’d only just arrived in his study. “I’m sorry. I meant nothing by it.”
“Oh, quite the contrary.” Though his tone was even, she couldn’t tell if he was angry that she’d mentioned it or that she knew he’d had a mistress.
“I should perhaps clear up one misconception,” he said.
She spun around on her good foot so she was facing him again. “And what is that?”
“Victoria is no man’s mistress. And she’d resent anyone for even thinking it.”
Mr. Riley stepped close enough that she could have touched him if she stretched her hand out just a little. While she was tempted to reach for him, not only to keep her legs from giving out under her but to merely touch him, she remained motionless. Of course that didn’t stop him from skimming the back of his hand over her temple as he pushed an errant curl from her forehead. “So naïve in the art of sex, Miss Grant. I will educate you yet.”
“I have seen things that might make you take a second look at me,” she said, challenging him.
Mr. Riley grasped her hand and swung them both about so she was pressed against his mahogany desk. He leaned suggestively over her. “I am interested to know more about what you think you know, Miss Grant.”
“Perhaps another time. We do have a dinner party to attend.” She had never dared to be so outspoken with anyone. What had provoked her now? Oh, she knew what nettled her; she was looking right at him.
His face was but inches from hers, his eyes glued to her parted lips. “We have time to explore the finer qualities of your lips.”
She wasn’t su
re how to respond to that, not that she was given the opportunity to say anything. Mr. Riley hitched her up enough that she was perched precariously on the edge of his desk as he pressed between her legs. She felt a cool draft on her calves as he exposed her lower legs to the elements of the room so he could better settle himself in the V of her spread thighs.
His mouth was a scant inch from hers when he spoke in a soft, seductive tone. “Do you think you can teach me something? I dare you to try.”
She’d stepped into territory she didn’t quite understand. She didn’t know how she was supposed to respond to him or how she was supposed to act, now that she’d crossed into unfamiliar ground.
“I can see your thoughts turning over right now,” he said. “Just act, Miss Grant. I promise you will not regret it.”
How could he know that? Any self-respecting woman would frown on the thoughts she was having right now. Apparently, any self-respecting woman didn’t extend to her.
“Regret is a peculiar word,” she said. “We are taught to regret—”
Mr. Riley’s lips melded with hers, though “melded” seemed too tame a word. They meshed and smashed and drew her in. Her resolve to resist this man was torn down a little every time she was in his company. She wanted him with a fierceness and desire she couldn’t explain in words. Sex, she understood, but this gut-deep desire that consumed her so wholly befuddled and confounded her.
His lips were unforgiving as they parted hers so his tongue could swirl around her mouth, giving her an unfamiliar feeling to which she was so far from adverse to that a soft moan passed her lips, only to be swallowed up by his hungry growl.
She felt so hot, so desirous and needy, that she panted against him, her breathing coming in great rushes through the parting of their lips. Her hands curled into the lapels of his jacket and she tasted him back. She let her tongue search as his did. Let her body feel the weight of him crushed against her.
“You tempt me beyond all reason,” he said against her forehead before kissing it. “Let us leave here before you find yourself strapped to my bed.”
Her eyes widened at the suggestion, which he seemed to find humorous, for he chuckled as he eased off her and pulled her from the desk. He tipped up her chin to look at her full on. “Not so experienced as you think. I plan to teach you a lot, Amelia.”
What this man did to her and made her feel was so foreign, yet it felt so right.
“Am I to replace Victoria?” she asked. “Be your mistress in name, even if she wasn’t?”
“There is no denying that you will be mine, but you are your own woman. I will not label you, other than to introduce you as my secretary. Our trust in each other needs to be absolute if we are to work well together.”
She turned her gaze to the dark library. “What makes you so certain you can have the best of both worlds?”
“Because I always get what I want.”
As they entered the dining hall at the South Langtry Hotel, Nick couldn’t help the possessiveness he felt over Amelia. Discreetly, he placed his hand at the base of her back and led her through the maze of tables as the maître d’hôtel showed them to their seats. Discreet, though, could be used subjectively, as anyone and everyone could see that he had a new lady at his side this evening. And tonight the world would know that Amelia was his alone.
As they approached the table, Nick realized they were the last to arrive; they had been delayed in his study, but it had been the traffic stalling the carriage ride that had made them late. Not that arriving last was a cause for concern; tonight was casual and spent, for the most part, among friends.
There was a familiar face in the crowd Nick hadn’t expected to see. Her ostrich feather was perched high among a fall of blonde curls, and her dress was a damask that gave her the effect of being swathed in gold. Nick merely raised one eyebrow as he stared in Victoria’s direction. She gave him a mischievous smile as she tipped her champagne against her lips.
Victoria sat between Hart and Meredith. Meredith he’d known for a short time, as she’d married his friend Landon last fall.
Landon had once been a business rival until they had sat down and strategically come up with a plan for bidding on properties to each of their preferences instead of outbidding and inflating the value of said properties every time they had cross dealings.
Sitting beside Landon was Lord Murray. Not a friend by any estimation but someone who owned the latest plot of land that Nick wanted to buy, just north of London. The land wrapped around some of his and Landon’s other properties. Murray was a known gambler with luck that should caution his daring but instead made his estate a prime target for those more capable in managing it.
Heddie Burton, the woman next to Murray, was a well-known actress and dancer for a number of shows around town. She was as sought after for her beauty as she was for her brains. Nick thought her no more than a perfectly trained courtesan. She took on paramours like she did productions, changing them frequently when bored with them or when they ran out of money to spend on her; he couldn’t tell which. She’d been with Murray for three months now, and this was her second dinner at the hotel with them.
“Sorry to have kept you waiting,” Nick said.
“Not at all, old chap,” said Hart as he and the other men at the table stood to acknowledge Amelia.
“For those who haven’t been introduced to my new secretary,” Nick said, “let me present Miss Amelia Grant.”
Amelia bowed delicately, like a lady might do when introduced to a room of possible suitors. Nick hated the thought of that as much as he hated to share their evening with everyone present at the table.
They all gave their introductions as he pulled out the chair next to the actress for Amelia, who was currently extending her hand to those she didn’t yet know. She asked Hart and Lord Burley how they had been since they had last met. A perfect conversationalist.
While rounds were made, Victoria remained in her seat, ever the voyeur in any situation. Nick didn’t fail to notice the furrow creasing her brow.
“Victoria,” Nick said by way of greeting.
“Nick,” she replied, though her response came at a moment of silence and had everyone looking between them.
“Miss Grant,” Nick said, “This is Victoria Newgate.”
“A pleasure,” Amelia said with a dip of her head.
“Shall we start with the first course?” Hart motioned for the bowls of soup to be set out on the table by the restaurant’s staff. It was a cream of asparagus, not Nick’s favorite but Amelia seemed to enjoy it.
While Nick sat next to Hart, he spent most of the first course listening to Amelia and Heddie discuss the newest plays to see in town, and he occasionally added a bit when he could say he’d seen something. Overall, his new secretary seemed to keep Murray’s guest entertained and unfocused on the conversation Lord Burley was having, of which Nick was only getting pieces.
When the second course came, white wine was poured for everyone. He could tell Amelia wasn’t used to eating and drinking in this style, as she finished only half her fish and drank but a quarter glass of her wine.
By the third course, Nick realized he’d paid little attention to Victoria and Meredith and had said barely more than a few sentences to Hart, as his attention had been focused on Amelia.
When Victoria made a point of staring at him, he said, “I didn’t expect to see you tonight.”
“Hart wouldn’t let me miss dinner.”
“You’re right,” Hart said. “I couldn’t allow it. You wanted to decline at the last minute when I had no one else to invite.”
Hart had recently broken off with an opera singer he’d been seeing for almost a year. The separation had been a public mess.
“You must tell me, Miss Grant,” Victoria said, “how is it you took over for Huxley? I thought that man irreplaceable, Nick being as hard to please as he is.”
“Huxley is still very involved,” Amelia responded. “It will be a miracle if I can get him
to hand over the reins to me.”
“And how has Nick treated you?”
Before Amelia could reply, Nick settled his hand over hers and squeezed it as he pushed out from the table. “If you will excuse me for a moment.” Lord Burley snickered in his direction as Nick walked around the table and leaned close enough to speak in Victoria’s ear. “Take a walk with me, will you?”
“I rather like the company,” she said, laughing a little too gaily.
“In case my tone wasn’t clear, that was me telling you to follow me out.”
Victoria placed her folded napkin beside her bowl as Nick pulled her chair out from under the table. “If you’ll excuse us a moment,” she said.
Though he wanted nothing more than to have her follow behind him for her rudeness, he took her arm to keep up appearances as he led her toward a private terrace. The air was cool, and the night surrounding them was filled with fog.
“Why are you here, Victoria? I thought we agreed to end things amicably.”
“I can’t help that we have the same friends. And I didn’t think amicable meant never seeing you again.”
It hadn’t, but she’d thrown him off by being here tonight. Nick crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall.
“Fine,” she said. “I wanted to see this new secretary of yours that Hart was going on about. She’s a bit meek for you.”
“Jealousy does not suit you, Victoria. You know better than most that Miss Grant is filling a role that had grown vacant with Huxley’s expanding role in my businesses.”
Victoria leaned closer to him, her finger tracing a path down the middle of his waistcoat. “I do not like how things ended so suddenly between us.”
“We both know it wasn’t sudden.” He curled his hand around hers so she wasn’t tempted to further explore him and gently maneuvered her away from him; not that he was tempted by her forwardness; he wasn’t, but she needed to understand that their relationship was over. The only woman he wanted was Amelia.
“I miss your company all the same,” she said, turning away from him to lean against the iron railing and gaze out over the city. “You’re wasted on someone like Miss Grant.”
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