They didn’t join again, but he did worship every part of her body with kisses. She wasn’t sure how late they were awake, never talking, only touching, but she eventually fell asleep in his arms.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Nick was nowhere to be found when Amelia opened her eyes and stared at the small stream of light spilling in through the split in her curtains. She stretched her hand out across her bed, and inhaled deeply, smelling the sandalwood of his soap and the amber in his cologne everywhere. She felt dampness between her thighs when she recalled everything they’d done. She wasn’t sure when he’d brought her back to her room, but she was glad he’d thought that far ahead so they wouldn’t be discovered together.
She rolled over onto her back, feeling aches in places she had never felt before and a lingering soreness everywhere. Her breasts felt tender, and even her nipples were overly sensitized as she stretched her arms above her head, and the material of her night rail scraped across the tips.
She felt like she’d ridden a horse for an entire day. As she sat up, she cringed at the residual pain in lower parts of her body. Taking her time, she swung her feet out of her bed and stood. Though her body was tired and slow, she felt better standing than sitting, probably because most of the soreness radiated out from her sex. She blushed as she recalled her evening with Mr. Riley. And then she blushed more, realizing she’d have to face him in the light of day.
She remembered every intimate detail of their time together, everything they’d done. She made her bed neatly so the maids wouldn’t bother with her room. The quilt atop was a dark blue and hid any blood from their first joining last night, for which she was thankful. Her dress was in a heap on the floor, so she picked up the skirts and bodice and hung them in the wardrobe.
Changing into a chemise, she put on the corset she’d worn last night before donning a plain dress.
Rotating her ankle under the dressing table, she was surprised it felt so much better—perhaps that was because other parts of her seemed to hurt more, though she still took her cane with her, using it intermittently as she went down the stairs and headed toward the study.
What would today bring? What would Mr. Riley say to her, and how would he treat her now that she’d allowed herself to be tempted onto their current path of seduction?
She didn’t spare another thought as she opened the double doors into the study. Today, she had every intention of tidying up Mr. Riley’s paperwork before sorting through the mail and attending to her own duties. Then she would act as if nothing was different and join the rest of the staff for breakfast.
Of course, her good intentions could change if she ran into Mr. Riley. To her disappointment, he wasn’t in the study, not that he seemed to go there first thing in the morning. So she went about her duties, reading his missives.
She paused when she handled a letter that looked like it was of a personal nature. Lifting the vellum to her nose, she could smell the faint trace of lavender on the paper.
Turning it over, she saw an unfamiliar name: Seraphina. Who was she? A lover? A friend? A relative? The last was unlikely, considering the lavender scent that infused the paper. But someone by the name of “Ser” had written to him before. Could that be the same woman?
Amelia sat heavily in the leather chair and she stared at it, wondering . . . She wouldn’t dare invade his privacy, but . . .
“Good morning,” Nick said from the door.
She stood from his desk and backed up a few steps. It wasn’t quite embarrassment she felt at being caught sitting at his desk; it was more like guilt.
“I hope you slept well,” he said.
“I did. Thank you.” She ducked her head, not ready to meet his assessing gaze. “I did not expect you down yet. I was going through your papers to make sure everything is in order.”
He came fully into the room, his presence dominating everything. After shutting the double doors behind him, he turned the lock. She swallowed, nerves making it difficult for her to breathe, let alone ask him what he was doing.
“By all means, do what you need to do,” he said without inflection in his voice—she had difficulty reading his mood.
“There is a private letter for you. I did not want to open it.”
“I have nothing to hide from you, Amelia.” Her eyes shot to his. “Open it,” he said.
She hesitated, feeling ashamed for thinking the worst. “I . . . I couldn’t.” She retrieved it and passed it to him.
“It’s from Sera.”
“Who is she?”
His smile was slow. “I think you’re jealous.”
She opened her mouth to deny it but closed it again. She was being silly. “I know so little about you, Nick. Everything I do or ask feels like prying.” She still held the letter out to him. He took it and tucked it in his jacket pocket.
That predatory look was in his eyes as he approached her. She took another step back and was stopped by the wall.
“Sera, you should know, is my sister.”
“Sister?” Oh, God, could she have sounded any more pathetic?
“Half sister, if you want to be precise. But still my sister.”
There was so much that they needed to discuss, so much they had to figure out before they moved forward. All this time, and she had no idea he had siblings.
“I see your mind moving, Amelia, and can almost hear the thousand questions spinning around in that pretty head of yours. Perhaps you’re wondering how we carry on during the day when our nights are filled with sin after sin.” He stood but a hand span from her now, his hand tracing the top swell of her breast, where the barest amount of skin was exposed along the edge of the dress.
“I need to be honest with you—” she started to say.
His finger pressed against her parted lips, effectively shushing her. “I will be home late tonight, and I will not ask you to wait up for me, considering the hour you finally fell asleep this morning.” He pressed closer to her. Her breathing grew erratic. “I want you to know that we did not end with last night.”
“Help me understand what exactly you expect of me,” she asked, at a loss for words when he stood close enough that she could smell the amber of his cologne. She wanted to burrow into that scent and rub herself against him like a cat in heat.
Reining in her desires, she recalled where they were. And while Nick had locked the study door behind him, they were taking too daring a chance.
“Am I supposed to carry on as if nothing has changed between us?” she asked.
“I leave that decision with you.” His hand lowered, his thumb and forefinger taking her chin and turning her head to the side so he could press his lips against her neck. Her pulse fluttered with the simple touch, and he kissed her again.
Amelia’s eyes drifted closed as she basked in the feel of his mouth on her, and all the feelings from the previous night slammed through her so suddenly that a moan slipped past her lips. She had to grab the front of his jacket to keep from swaying, to keep her knees from buckling under her.
When he lifted his head and looked at her again, there was a gleam of pure satisfaction in his eyes. She felt lost and found at the same time when she was in his arms and subject to his wicked ministrations. It was then that she wished they hadn’t had to leave his bed at all. That their night could have carried on for an eternity. That the reality of morning didn’t have to exist and make things awkward between them.
She lowered her hands, knowing they couldn’t continue, knowing she needed to set boundaries between them if she wanted to do her job well. She cleared her throat delicately. “With Huxley away, what would you like me to spend my time doing?”
Huxley was still giving her direction, and he hadn’t left her with a list of tasks to complete. And since he hadn’t informed her that he was leaving, she assumed he had left rather suddenly.
Nick gave her just enough space to escape his domineering presence. She sidled out from between him and the wall and took a steadying breath as she
walked toward his desk. Nick followed, though he must have sensed her hesitancy of the situation, as he didn’t touch her again.
Reaching around her, he picked up a pen and turned a notebook toward him. He wrote down an address, tore the page from the book, and handed it to her.
She looked at the location and the name of a store, her brow furrowing. “What is this?”
“That is the address of Victoria’s shop. If you feel so inclined, she is expecting you at some point for a fitting.”
“I cannot accept this, Mr. Riley.” Amelia pushed the paper toward him, but his hand curled around hers, pressing the address into her palm.
She would not be treated like his mistress. She would not let him treat her differently from anyone else in the house.
“As my secretary, Amelia,” he said pointedly, as a reminder that she should call him by his first name, “you have a clothing allowance. It is required for the meetings and dinner parties you will attend with me.”
“Oh.” She felt foolish for not knowing that. And it made sense, considering how well Huxley was always dressed, though she didn’t get the impression that he ever dined out with Nick and his associates.
“We have a dinner engagement tomorrow night, and I need you to wear something that will turn heads.”
Her eyebrows scrunched together.
He must have read her confusion, for he said, “You will provide a distraction. Lord Murray and I have business to discuss, but his man of business tends to interfere as he has a personal interest in Murray’s lands. I have no doubt you will be able to keep him engaged in a separate conversation.”
She wasn’t so sure about that, but she would do her best if that was what he wanted. “And what will I discuss with this person?”
“This will be a casual affair. You need only to be your charming self.”
She had no real knowledge of what Nick’s primary business purposes were, as he dabbled in so many things. “What do you want from Lord Murray?”
“His lands.”
“Highgate,” she said, remembering mention of it last night. “Heddie said he had a drafty old castle there. Is that far outside of London?”
“Not too far.” His hands were at her hips, pulling her closer to his body. She let him. “What are you trying to delicately ask?”
“I want to understand why this is important.”
“He has two hundred acres and holds the majority of the leases in the town. I have a personal interest in the area and plan to reinstate the house.”
“Where will Lord Murray go if you buy his house and his lands?”
“He has two other properties, neither of which have my interest.”
She arched one eyebrow at that and tucked the address into the bosom of her dress. She would visit Miss Newgate’s shop, even though she had every reason to dislike the woman who had once held Nick’s affections.
“I would like to see you tonight,” she said.
“You may wish for a night of reprieve.”
She shook her head; that was the last thing she wanted. “We have so much to figure out between us. There are things about me . . . about my past.”
“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to tell, Amelia. Your past will not change what’s between us.”
She wished she didn’t have to worry about her past, but he should know the truth. Perhaps now wasn’t the best time to bring it to the fore.
Before she could say more, Nick’s thumb pressed against her lower lip and pulled it down enough that he could slip the tip into her mouth. Amelia closed her eyes and, feeling daring and bold, flicked her tongue against him. His mouth replaced his hand while her eyes were still closed. There was less urgency to his kiss today, and it was done in a way that made her crave more. Perhaps she would always crave more after last night.
He pulled away just as she curled her fingers into the sleeves of his jacket. “While you’re a pleasant distraction, I will never make my meeting with Landon if we continue.” His voice was hoarse, filled with desire.
She nodded her agreement, at a loss for words. She hated that she couldn’t control herself around him.
Before turning to leave, he reached into his waistcoat pocket and pulled out a small pouch. Handing it to her, he said, “For your tea. The taste is a little bitter, but if you use some sugar, you will not notice it.” Before she could ask what it was, he added, “It will help keep my seed from taking root.”
Her cheeks warmed, and she had to turn her gaze elsewhere. She hadn’t even thought of that.
“It is nothing for which you should be ashamed,” Nick said and gave her a peck on the mouth before turning away again. “You will need to drink it daily.”
She blushed. How could she not? This was all still new to her.
Taking out the paper she’d tucked in her dress, she looked at the address and decided to go directly to Miss Newgate’s shop. Amelia would not be intimidated by her.
Nick had a tendency to trust those in his house above all. He felt a certain responsibility in safeguarding their welfare. Not one of them came from a past easily forgotten, though he tried to give them as safe a place as possible to overcome the obstacles of those pasts. When Devlin, his housekeeper’s son, found him at Landon’s club, the boy had a black eye and a swollen, bloody lip. Nick felt rage building in him.
Nick ushered the boy into a private room. Kneeling so they were at the same level, he placed his hands on Devlin’s arms and inspected the damage done to his face. The boy’s nose was intact, as were his teeth, from what Nick could see. It looked worse than it really was. Not that Devlin’s mother would have agreed with that assessment.
“You need to tell me exactly what happened, Devlin,” Nick said.
Tears filled the youth’s eyes. While the boy was only nine, size alone made him look much younger. He was an easy target for violence, should someone want to hurt him. “Didn’t catch his name, Mr. Riley.”
Seeing blood in Devlin’s mouth sent Nick over the edge. Whoever had done this would pay dearly. Nick held out his handkerchief for Devlin. When the boy took it, Nick saw a crumpled letter in the boy’s hand. “What’s this, Dev?” he asked, reaching for it.
Devlin gave him the letter, but Nick noticed that it was not addressed.
Tearing open the envelope, he quickly read the contents. He wasn’t angry anymore; he was enraged.
There was no salutation, but the contents made it clear to whom it was addressed. Nick crumpled the letter in his fist. “Who gave you this letter?”
“Didn’t know him. He was a gent.”
“What did he say?”
“To get it straight to Amelia Somerset.”
This was not how Nick expected to discover Amelia’s real name. Damn it, he wished Huxley was around to do a little investigating while he dealt with the ass who thought he could raise his hand against a child. And then to threaten Amelia . . . He needed to find her. Make sure she was safe.
“Why did he approach you and not Amelia?”
“Saw us together, is all I can think. We walked some ways. I pointed her in the direction of Miss Victoria’s shop,” the boy explained.
“Then where did you go?” He didn’t want to push too hard for information, but they needed to sort this out fast.
“Did my errands for me ma and got cornered when I left the market. Ma’s gonna be angry about her carrots. I don’t know where I dropped ’em.”
Nick clasped Devlin’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about the carrots. Let’s get you home safely so your mother can fret over you.”
“Just a split lip. Had one before, and Ma didn’t much mind—just told me to stay out of trouble.”
If the situation wasn’t as dire as it was, Nick might have laughed. But Devlin, he was sure, had been lucky not to suffer more serious harm.
Leading the boy out of the private room, he gave his excuses to Landon, promising to catch up with him another time. Devlin didn’t say a word on their carriage ride home; he
just watched the scenery pass by outside, which gave Nick time to think about the letter’s contents.
When they arrived home, Mrs. Coleman was not at all happy to see her boy sporting bruises like he had been in a fight. “What have you gotten yourself into, Dev?”
Devlin’s cheeks flushed, and he ducked his head, evidently embarrassed that his mother was admonishing him at all. “I was too slow and didn’t realize there was the two of ’em, Ma.”
“If you want to blame anyone, Marney, you should blame me,” Nick said, giving her arm a friendly squeeze. “It’s not your son’s fault. The man who did this will be sorry he thought he could cross me.”
“What did he think he would get from Devlin?” she asked, worry thick in her question.
“He was a fool and should have come to me, not your son. He will pay for what he has done,” he promised.
She squeezed Nick’s hand in thanks and turned her focus back to her son, dabbing away at the dried blood on his mouth. Mrs. Coleman gathered Devlin in her arms and looked at Nick over her son’s dark mop of hair, tears awash in her eyes.
His housekeeper put Devlin at arm’s length and focused on the cuts on his face. “You shouldn’t have to worry about escaping any bad situation, love.”
Nick was ready to slaughter the person who had done this. The slow burn of rage he normally kept at an even temperature was boiling over. All he needed was a direction to focus that fury. And the answers he needed could be found with his new secretary.
Nick ruffled Devlin’s hair and headed up to the study, taking the stairs two at a time in his haste. There was always the possibility that Amelia was back from Vic’s shop. When he opened the library door, he wasn’t surprised to see her desk chair empty. Opening up her date book, he tore a page from the back and left a note for her, should their paths not cross.
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