The Romantic

by Madeline Hunter

  “Sir, very early this morning, before dawn, I accompanied members of the Metropolitan Police back to Glasbury’s house. I had been told that a more thorough search of his chambers might prove interesting.”

  He paused and glanced up at the spectators. He gave the judge a meaningful look that indicated continuing could be very awkward.

  The judge eyed him like a man who knew the game, but had no choice but to be the pawn. “Go on.”

  “Well, in his wardrobe, hidden by garments, we found certain … uh, objects that suggest that his secret visitors came to, um … shall we say they came at his bidding and to do his bidding, as it were.” He looked positively distraught that his duty required he broach the indelicate subject.

  The judge’s face reddened with embarrassment. And anger.

  “The police have those objects in their possession now. Perhaps you should request they be brought forth, so that you can ascertain whether—”

  “That will not be necessary.”

  “No? Do we agree, then, that their existence indicates that the earl’s murderer should be sought in less elevated circles than heretofore?”

  “Oh, my, he is good at this,” Sophia whispered.

  Yes, he was. Very good.

  The judge looked like a man who had been backed into a corner. Having gotten him there, Knightridge pressed forward. “Do we agree that this lady’s testimony exonerates Mr. Hampton, and that the earl’s visitor was a person unknown to the police and not associated with Mr. Hampton?”

  This cue was not missed. Spectators yelled their agreement and called for an answer. The judge’s cheeks puffed as he debated.

  Finally he exhaled, and nodded.

  The gallery went wild.

  Pen looked at Julian while the din swelled around her. She wanted to grab him and embrace him and cry with relief.

  He looked back. His comportment did not change, but fires burned in his eyes. Lights of life and hope blazed in them.

  Others did, too. Private fires, that only she would recognize.

  The love and passion of a lifetime now waited for her, if she was brave enough to accept it.

  chapter 29

  Ytold Mr. Knightridge about the wardrob Pen said.

  She stood with Charlotte outside the Old Bailey, waiting for Julian. The crowds had dispersed, but some people still milled around. Down the street she could hear a new yell, as a boy offered fresh broadsides describing the suspenseful conclusion of the trial.

  The judge had recommended the jury to vote to acquit, and they had quickly done so. Formalities were being attended to, but Julian would come through the door soon.

  She could not wait to see him. Hold him. There were other people she needed to see, too, but that would come later, after she had Julian back.

  “Of course I told him. When they first examined those chambers they were not looking for evidence of Glasbury’s character. Your revelations came after that. Now, with the particulars of your marriage well known, I realized Knightridge needed only to allude to them to open other possibilities in the jury’s mind.”

  “You are as brilliant as he is, Charlotte. You must admit that he played it out perfectly. He left the judge nowhere to turn.”

  Charl snickered. “I suspect the judges all dislike him as much as I do, if he always makes them look like fools when he wins.”

  The door opened. A robe appeared.

  “Here he comes. I hope that you will be gracious and congratulate him as he deserves.”

  “Without you, me, and Señora Perez, he would have failed. How surprising to find her joining our army. Thank goodness her husband was so understanding and honorable, that is all I can say.”

  Pen had rather more to say about Señora Perez, and to her, but that was for another day.

  Today was for joy. Julian stepped across the threshold behind Knightridge. The sight of him had her lightheaded and wobbly.

  He paused and looked up to the sky. Then he closed his eyes, as if composing himself against the onslaught of a powerful emotion.

  When he opened them again, he was the Mr. Hampton the world knew. Contained. Cool. Removed.

  Until he saw her.

  A burning intensity entered his eyes. It revealed everything he hid in his soul. She saw the agonizing fear he had battled in prison when he assumed he would hang, and also the exhilaration incited by his unexpected salvation.

  In that moment, she also comprehended as never before his resolve to protect her at all costs, even that of his life.

  Ignoring whatever Knightridge was saying to him, unmindful of the eyes that still watched in hopes of more spectacle, Julian strode toward her, opening his arms. She ran to his waiting embrace.

  She brought him to her house. He was incapable of refusing.

  He had not entirely absorbed the astonishing turn things had taken. The reprieve left him intoxicated with relief. The trial had also rendered him more tired than he realized.

  Pen took him in hand. She ordered some brandy be brought, and then gave instructions that a bath be prepared.

  When the brandy arrived, she poured him a good measure, then splashed a bit in another glass. “Promise not to tell,” she said. “I feel some need of fortification myself.”

  The spirits warmed him. They helped tilt the world back upright.

  Pen sat on a sofa and sipped. She appeared very contented and happy.

  He hoped he did not have to say it, but he thought he should anyway. “I never visited Señora Perez, least of all that night.”

  “I know that.”

  “I cannot imagine why she did this. She owes me nothing, let alone a lie under oath.”

  “Perhaps she is in love with you, and could not bear to see you hang.” Pen set down her glass, got up, and came over to him. “Whatever her reason, I am grateful. Tomorrow we will go and thank her. For now, come with me.”

  She took his hand and led him out of the room.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Someplace where I can take care of you. Do not object or tell me it is too indiscreet. I am thoroughly notorious now so I get to be as naughty as I like.”

  “That is one of the benefits of scandal, isn’t it?”

  “Oh, yes. I learned that early on.”

  She brought him up to her chamber. Indiscreet was an understatement for doing so at midday with the servants’ full knowledge. He would remind her about that later. Today there were no rules he was inclined to obey.

  The bath had been prepared near the fire in her bedroom. A steaming tub waited on a large oilcloth that protected the carpet.

  “My dressing room is not large enough,” she explained. “I thought you would want to wash the last week away.”

  He still smelled the prison on him, and she probably did, too. He was not sure that a bath would completely spare him from smelling the odor. It was in his head, along with the misery and despair that permeate such a place.

  He sat down and removed his boots.

  The latch clicked. He turned his head. Pen had not left. She had only closed and locked the door.

  She came up behind him and slid her hands down the front of his coat. “I said I wanted to take care of you. Did you think that meant like a mother?”

  “I hoped more than the bath waited up here.”

  “Yes, much more. But first I will take care of you in other ways.” She slid his frock coat down his shoulders and off his arms and cast it aside. Her fingers sought the knot in his cravat.

  He closed his eyes and rested his head back against her breasts. Her circling arms and deft touch aroused him. Desire burst like a torch.

  He turned his head and kissed the swell of her breast. With a soft smile, she went to work on his waistcoat.

  Every small touch inflamed him more. He began thinking that the bath could wait.

  She moved in front of him to loosen his cuffs and collar. She slowly lifted his shirt over his head. She paused.

  He looked up at her heavy-lidded expressio
n. Sensual lights sparkled in her eyes. She was enjoying this.

  She caught him noticing her looking. A pretty flush reddened her cheeks. “You will have to stand now. Otherwise, I cannot …”

  Desire still roared in him, fueled by the heady liberation the day had brought. This undressing had become erotic, however, and he did not mind the delay.

  He stood. She turned her attention to working the buttons of his trousers. He turned his attention to the way the light from the window made her dark hair shine.

  Her hand kept brushing against his erection. Her face flushed more, and she had trouble finishing the task.

  “Do you want some help, Pen?”

  “No. I can do this.” It sounded more like a statement of resolve than of competence. “I have dreamt for days what I would do if I got you back, and these buttons are not going to defeat me.”

  She managed it. The trousers loosened. She paused again.

  “No help at all?”

  She laughed. “You could kiss me. That would help enormously. This is harder than I thought. I expected to feel dangerous and seductive, and instead I feel silly and awkward.”

  He slid his hand behind her neck and drew her toward him. “You are very dangerous, and I am thoroughly seduced.” His kiss revealed just how thoroughly. He barely kept from devouring her. As his tongue swept the moist velvet of her mouth, he imagined other velvet depths and fought the urge to pick her up and carry her to the bed.

  He did not succumb, in part because he could not walk. During the kiss Pen had pushed down his lower garments, and they bunched around his ankles.

  Eyes bright with her own desire, she kissed his neck, and down to his chest. The warm press of her lips created spots of delicious fire.

  She eased away. “If there is going to be a bath at all, it should be soon.”

  She lowered herself to her knees to extricate his ankles and feet from the garments. He looked down at her as she knelt to tend to him. Like a servant to a master. Or a lady to her lord.

  It moved him that she would even consider such a pose of submission. She was the daughter of a viscount and widow of an earl. She had probably never knelt willingly to any person except the king. She had not been educated to humble herself in the care of anyone.

  He touched her head. “I am honored, my lady”

  She looked up and her eyes misted. She turned her head and softly kissed his leg. Then his thigh. Then she kissed him in a way that made his teeth clench.

  He held out his hand and helped her to her feet. He walked to the tub and stepped in.

  “Is it still hot?” she asked.

  “If it isn’t, I am, and my body will warm it fast enough.”

  He began washing, wondering if she even knew what that last kiss had implied.

  She knelt beside the tub, no doubt to help him.

  “You will get your dress wet.”

  “I do not think some soap and water will ruin it.”

  “There is no reason to take the chance.” He rinsed his hand and reached behind her. He began unfastening her dress. “If you are going to be dangerous, Pen, you may as well do it right.”

  She twisted so he could reach better. He sat up in order to deal with her stays.

  He gestured to the chair where his garments were lying. “If you take them off over there, they won’t get wet.”

  He also would be able to watch. She realized that as soon as she stepped out of her dress.

  She looked quite demure as she set aside the dress. Less so while she released her petticoats. A sensual smile softened her mouth as she let the stays fall.

  “I like the way you are looking at me, Julian. I feel very seductive and dangerous now. I want to see if I can be devastating and wicked, too. You must stay there while I finish.”

  “Trust me, I am incapable of moving.”

  She deliberately took a long time to remove her chemise. She teased him with a slow unveiling. The fabric inched down the full, creamy breasts he had dreamed of kissing, over the lovely curve of her waist, around her hips, and over the dark hair below. Finally she stood naked except for her hose, a perfect feminine vision, all white and pink and soft.

  Her gaze never left him. Her expression revealed her arousal, and other things, too. Triumph at what she was doing to both of them gave her a very worldly air.

  She walked over to the tub. She appeared incredibly erotic like that, nude except for the white silk covering her from thighs to toes. The effects of this disrobing collected in him with a ruthless fury. When she got within reach he grabbed her arm and pulled her down so he could kiss her.

  She joined him as if it was the first kiss in years. Her response was shy and tentative at first, then impassioned and aggressive. She bent over the tub, hands on its edges, arms flanking his shoulders.

  Her breasts hung inches from his face. He kissed each one, then moved his tongue over one tight nipple and his fingers over the other. Her breath quickened the way he loved, then escaped in little gasps. She moved slightly to make it easier. He knew that her breasts were more sensitive when she straddled him or sat, and he caressed and drew gently, the way that gave her the most pleasure.

  “That feels so good,” she whispered between deep sighs. “At night I would remember making love with you, and I could not sleep.” She touched his face, stopping him, and raised it so she could kiss him. “I could have you do that forever, Julian, but I am taking care of you today, remember?”

  She straightened and looked down at him. “I haven’t finished undressing.”

  She raised one foot and propped it on the edge of the tub right near his shoulder. With slow, deft hands, she began rolling down her stocking.

  There was no reason for that to make him impatient, but it did. He was halfway to madness already, and the descent of that stocking made another restraint break. He circled her hips with his arm and kissed her flank and the outside of her thigh. A glorious passion started breaking in him. A magnificent turmoil of hunger and pleasure and unspeakable need.

  She switched legs, raising the other, turning slightly within his arm to keep her balance. This position exposed her as the last had not. He had to clench his jaw to control the sexual lightning that flashed through his mind and body.

  He became aware that her hands had stopped at her knee. He looked up at her face. Her expression said that she had noticed he was not watching the stocking at all.

  “You are very good at being devastating and wicked, Pen.”

  “You are quite devastating yourself, my love. And right now you look extremely dangerous, in the most thrilling way.” She glanced down to the curls and pink flesh he had been looking at. “Do you want to kiss me there?”

  “Yes. Does that shock you?”

  “A little. It is not something I have done before.” She bit her lower lip and suddenly appeared very young and innocent. “I think that I would like to do things with you that I never did before, Julian.”

  He finished removing her stocking, and used the time to force some control. He put her foot down and rose out of the water. Not bothering to use the towel, he lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed.

  He reclined beside her, braced up on one arm so he could see how beautiful she was in the soft light streaming through a nearby window. He smoothed his hand over her, marveling anew at how soft her skin was, how silken and warm.

  She reached and pulled him down into her embrace, the first happy embrace since that day in Hampstead. Holding her quietly and completely, feeling her skin against his, made his heart ache beautifully. Another sentiment, poignant and exquisite and grateful, joined the powerful chaos that possessed him.

  It did not remain quiet long. Demonstrating her new aggression, determined to be devastating, Pen pushed him on his back and kissed him hard. She used her tongue as he had, flicking it over his chest, teasing his skin until his mind was blank to everything except the sensation of her mouth and hands and the sounds of her increasing abandon. Desire urged him to
take her, but the hunger for a different possession spoke louder.

  He flipped her onto her back. He parted her legs and knelt between her knees. Lids heavy and eyes glazed, she looked up at him.

  He bent down and kissed her stomach, and then her thigh. When he raised his head, she was still watching him.

  He caressed her thighs. “I have never done this before either, Pen. It is not something I have shared with another.”

  “I like that,” she whispered. “I am glad.”

  He lay between her legs and immediately entered a sexual daze. He kissed the soft flesh of her inner thighs and then the astonishing softness of her mound and silky curls. She instinctively spread her legs wider. He caressed the moist, pink folds exposed to him, and she relaxed and responded to this familiar touch. Her escalating cries filled his ears and her scent filled his head. Primitive, almost violent pleasure stirred his essence.

  He kissed her, gently tasting. Her breath audibly caught. He kissed again, using his tongue, letting her cries guide him, finding the best pleasures. She bent her knees and raised her hips, inviting more. Lost now, absorbed by the mysteries, mindless of everything except the powerful desire and pleasure wracking his body and the begging lilt of her frantic cries, he explored deeper, then higher, circling the sensitive flesh with his tongue.

  Her climax engulfed him. It rang in his ear and shuddered through her hips and pulsed at his mouth. While her throaty scream echoed, he knelt and lifted her legs so they rose straight up his body. Supporting her hips with his hands, he entered the sweet warmth he had been kissing.

  She absorbed him. She tremored around him and sighed with desperate contentment. He thrust hard and fast and long. She began crying again, joining him in the sublime fury until they shared the cataclysm together.

  Pen woke in Julian’s arms in the soft light of dawn. She drifted in a cloud of languid contentment while she listened to him breathe. She treasured the cozy warmth of his chest beneath her cheek and the subtle pulse of his heartbeat on her ear.

  There had been many firsts with Julian, and the bold acts of last night only had meaning as metaphors for the rest. There had been her first day of complete freedom when they went to Hampstead. And last night, the first love-making when both of them had escaped all the dangers.