She put her hand to his chest, her body’s craving warring with her good sense.
“No one will disturb us. We always meet for a good hour on Mondays once the day is underway.”
“Do you think anyone suspected this was how we spent our time, all along?” she whispered.
“One benefit of the lack of undermanagers at this location is that there are few to question us,” he said. “We have no Mr. Pophams.”
“Or Mr. Hellmans,” she said.
“Come, let’s not talk of unpleasantries,” he said, deftly flipping open a few buttons on her dark orange blouse.
“Good heavens.” She breathed. “We couldn’t possibly, actually, well . . .”
“Oh, yes, we could.” His tongue touched his upper lip. He pushed her jacket off her shoulders, locking her arms against her body with the fabric while he undid her shirtfront. Then, he pulled off the blouse and jacket together, leaving her arms bare. His gaze glittered with a kind of avarice. She knew he wanted her. She softened and warmed in answer, the female in her answering to the male’s mating call.
“I’m not sure you are very good for me,” Betsy said as he began to disrobe.
“Oh, I’m going to be very good for you, darling.” His words were as good as a caress.
She watched him take off his clothes, her fingers mimicking his movements until they were both nude. He needed no urging, no intimate touch, to be ready for her. His manhood jutted out from the arrogant nest of dark curls, beaded with evidence of his readiness for her. Her mouth went dry as her feminine places moistened.
“What would you have done with that if I wasn’t here to take care of it?” she asked.
He chuckled, the sound pressing against her like a physical force on her body, a stack of cake boxes full of heavy pastry leaning on her torso as she hauled them up the stairs.
“You should spend more time downstairs,” she said, stepping closer. “You’d smell like a bakery rather than an accounting office.”
“Don’t you like the smell of ink and paper?”
“I should. But you know what smells like money to me?”
“What?” He trailed his fingers along her collarbone.
“Frosting. Butter cream frosting.”
“I’d like to cover you in it,” he said with a naughty glint in his eye. “Lick it off you.”
“I’d run downstairs for some, but I’m not properly dressed.”
“Yes, you are.” He picked her up, folding her against his chest, and set her on his desk.
She wrapped her fingers around the edge and leaned back slightly so she could see his face. He was intent, examining her. She hoped he wasn’t cataloging her faults. Heavy breasts, wide hips. But his gaze felt accepting, and he certainly hadn’t lost his erection.
“I want to turn you over and take you against the desk,” he said. “But then you’d have to smell the paper.”
“Right,” she said.
“Or maybe face-to-face against the wall.”
“Oh?” Her voice caught.
He shook his head. “Lay back.”
“Really?”
He nodded. She let go of the desk and did as he’d ordered. To keep her head on the wood, she had to set her hips on the very edge of the desk. Greggory put his hands under her knees and pulled them up until her feet rested on the edge of the desk, too.
“So wet,” he crooned. “Pink and glistening, just for me.” He dipped his fingers between her cleft. She moaned as they went inside her body. Her head fell back, exposing her neck.
He leaned over her. “Yes, darling, moan for me.”
“Someone will hear.”
He smiled. “No one is nearby.” He pulled his fingers out, then pressed in again, circling her pearl with his thumb at the same time.
She arched her back like a cat in reverse, a slave to everything he did to her. Ewan had never owned her so completely. What power did Greggory have over her body, her good sense?
He pulled his fingers from her, then licked them avidly, making her think of warm, tender pulls of his mouth on her tender breasts. But his hands went to her hips, his gaze still on her face, holding her steady while he thrust his cock into her channel in one long, endless stroke. She exhaled hard, gasping, and lost herself completely.
He held her hips as she shuddered, staring into her eyes. “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful,” he said, then began to thrust inside her again, not giving her a chance to gather herself.
She locked her knees against his hips, holding him inside her. He let go of her hips and trailed his hands up her torso, pushing her arms up over her head until they were off the table, floating in air, arching her back farther. Then he bent over her and plundered her breasts, nipping and licking and sucking until her world compressed into nothing but sensation and the musk of his body.
When she fell apart again, he came with her. A minute or ten later, she slowly moved her arms back to the table, wrapping them against his hot, damp back. His mouth nestled against her shoulder. For the first time, she noticed how hard the desk was against her back and the base of her skull, wondered if she had ink decorating her back, columns of numbers going up and down her spine.
“I need my own office so I can ravish men on my desk,” she said sleepily.
She felt his laugh rumble through his body, against hers.
“Just me, I hope.” He lifted his head and stared directly into her eyes, almost too close for her to focus on his warm coffee eyes.
“You have mastered me so thoroughly, I’m afraid I would be useless to any other man,” she admitted.
“After only twice?” he teased.
“I’m as shocked as you are. I thought I was more sophisticated.”
He levered himself off her, but instead of helping her to her feet, he went to his chair, behind her head, and sat in it, resting his lips in her hair. “You haven’t had time for much of a personal life, regardless of how many lovers you’ve managed to take.”
Her eyes popped open at his words. What did he think of her? “Just two. A man I wanted to marry and you.”
“Who you also want to marry, I hope.” He put his palms against her shoulders and massaged them.
She thought about that until he prodded her. “I hope?”
“I haven’t thought much about it,” she mumbled. “With everything else that is going on. It’s been difficult for me to focus on any one thing. You confuse me.”
“You want to marry me,” he said. “Let us not be confused about that.”
“It stands to reason,” she agreed pertly. “Here we are after all.”
“Don’t make me wait too long,” he said, kissing her forehead. “Before you admit the truth to me.”
What truth? Was she supposed to declare her love when he’d done nothing but speak to her father about courting her? They were supposed to be getting to know each other. She wasn’t exactly sure how one courted under these circumstances. Surely most people didn’t court by merely having intimacies.
She found his head with one arm and feathered her fingers through his hair, the heavy, straight strands feeling like silk. “When are you going to court me?”
He leaned forward and chuckled. “Isn’t this courting?”
“Is this how you courted your Letty?” she countered, sitting up.
He seemed mesmerized by the sway of her breasts. She gave him a minute, then poked his arm.
“I—no, not until we were formally engaged at least.”
“She wasn’t a virgin?” Betsy asked, fascinated.
“We anticipated our wedding date by a small amount. Six weeks, I think. She wouldn’t have risked it any earlier. Letty was a girl who wanted a small waist in a beautiful gown at her wedding, but she also wanted me.”
“You must have been happy,” she said, starting to think about dressing again.
“Yes, we were. But that means I know how to be happy, in a marriage, with another person.”
Betsy knew he meant well, but the t
hought didn’t help. “She was like you, though, and I’m not.”
“For two years we have shared a life during the workday six days a week. I think if we were not fundamentally alike we’d never have managed as we do.”
“Working together is so different from romance.”
“No, my dear, it decidedly is not.”
The way he said it made her, more than ever, want clothing on. She slid off the desk and found her combinations, then stepped into them.
“Do you want me to explain?” he asked.
“Of course.”
“This part, where one can think of nothing but touching, of intimate ecstasy, is not continuous. I cannot even say if it returns after a baby is born,” he admitted, “as I never had the chance to find out. But family life is a business. The house needs to be managed, the children raised. Everyone must work together.”
“Not a very romantic view.”
“But I know because I’ve lived it, and truly, it was romantic. I never loved Letty so well as when I saw her with the babies in her arms. There were a few days before the fever began, and it was nearly a month before it killed her.”
“At least she could enjoy them, a little.”
He nodded. “I’m sorry you are uncomfortable.”
“It’s just that we are in your office. I can’t do this, Greggory.” For some strange reason, she wanted to cry now. Redcake’s was her temple. She felt pure and clean here. “Not at Redcake’s; I’m sorry.”
He came toward her, a tall, lean, beautiful man in his full strength, and wrapped his arms around her. She tucked her face against his heart and listened to it beat. His back felt warm and solid under her arms, peaceful.
“I won’t touch you here if it makes you sad.”
He recognized her emotion, then. How sweet. “I think I’ve simply come to the end of my courage with you, for this little time. I need to repair my armor and go back to work.”
“I can understand that. It must be hard for you to feel really emotional when you’re the kind of girl who is all responsibility and hard work.”
She nodded. “I’m so grateful that you understand me a little. I feel courted now.”
She felt him smile against her hair. “Now you had better feel dressed. I just remembered I have a meeting with our milk supplier in half an hour, to cut the daily delivery.”
“It has come to that?”
“Yes, Mr. Soeur said he’s running out of ways to use our full delivery. Unless our customers return, it’s time to make changes.”
“We can manage as a smaller business.”
“Yes, less of a bustling concern and more of a sleepy one,” he agreed. “But we have such a good location, it makes no sense to accept that for long.” He set her at arm’s length.
She sat down to pull on her stockings as he began to put his clothing on.
“I don’t think I’ll see you tonight. I have to visit Lord Judah.”
“At my father’s request?”
“Also simply to check in. I want to know if he’s learned anything more about Manfred Cross.”
Betsy went out the back at the end of the day, finally allowing her thoughts to return to that encounter with Greggory. How the man could make her body sing. She even had the idea he might actually want to marry her, for all that he hadn’t spoken to Lord Judah yet. Could she see herself as Mrs. Greggory Redcake?
She started down the steps on the side of the loading dock in a haze, almost going off the side because there wasn’t a railing. Waving her arms for balance, she half-fell back before she righted herself and saw two people off to the left, speaking intently.
She recognized Violet’s pouf of blond curls from the back. The man was half-hidden by the girl; was it Victor? Slowly, Betsy crept back up the steps, not wanting to be noticed by the violent young man. What was he doing around Redcake’s, and why was Violet talking to him? Where was a constable when she needed one?
She saw Victor put his arm on his sister’s shoulder. Violet shook it off, but Betsy couldn’t see her expression and had to dash back inside the door when Violet started to turn.
Betsy stood inside the shadowy recess of the back corridor, her hand to her neck, her heart pounding, with no idea of what her sighting meant, except that the police were worthless. Victor had not gone to ground. He was wandering the streets of London, and yet no one had seen him. Her slight neck wound throbbed. Her thoughts veered between rushing to help Violet, bare-handed, or running to the kitchen for a weapon. She saw a block of wood, used to hold the door open when necessary, and hefted it, then crept back outside. As she reached the stairs again, she saw Violet, alone, no hint of Victor. Had she imagined it all?
Lord Judah had suggested they meet in his office at Oxford and Regent Streets, and Greggory arrived at the end of the day, just in time to have a cakie deliver an assortment of pastries and tea to the manager’s office before she went home for the day.
“This is the life,” Lord Judah said, passing him a plate.
“I can’t eat like this every day,” Greggory admitted. “All this sweet makes me sleepy.”
“I like the summer best, light custards with all the fresh fruits of the season,” Lord Judah admitted. “But still, one does feel that one has earned a treat at the end of a long day, and as you can imagine, home life is a bit strained with the news of my brother-in-law’s recent death.”
“Have you learned anything more?”
“I really couldn’t say. He was a secretive sort, and any intimate details that we have managed to learn aren’t to be shared.”
“I see. We’re continuing to be plagued by this Victor Carter,” Greggory said.
“Hellman has been spotted once, at a pub some of the bakers like to frequent. He came in and asked one of them for money. Don’t get it myself. If he was a blackmailer, why doesn’t he have sufficient coin stashed away? I’d think he’d be out of the country by now.”
“It seems multiple people had their hooks into Betsy Popham’s income, not just him. If he chose such low-hanging fruit to blackmail, I doubt he’d have accumulated much money.”
“I see. I’d heard the Pophams moved in with you,” Lord Judah said in a wry tone.
“Ralph is speaking about it?”
“He told my secretary, so we would have his address on file.”
“Ralph spent every penny of theirs that hadn’t been stolen,” Greggory admitted. “I didn’t want Betsy to be homeless. To be honest, I might be falling in love with her.”
“She’s attractive, I’ll give you that.” Lord Judah bit into a gâteau. “Too brash for me.”
“You’re an aristocrat,” Greggory said. “You’re used to women with more polish. But she’s smart and eager, along with those stunning looks. I’ve grown to rely on her completely at the shop.”
“You think she’ll do as well for you at home?” His eyebrows lifted.
“Can’t blame a man for wanting to marry again when he had a happy first marriage.” He picked up a savory scone and set it down again.
“No, I can understand that. Especially with your little ones. Babies need mothers.”
“Ralph wanted me to speak to you and your wife.” He picked up a cup and drank deeply.
“Why? Because she flirted with me a bit when I first came to work here?”
He hadn’t heard that before, but it had been years ago. Maybe she had earned her reputation, at least in part. “No, because he wanted to make sure your wife would receive Betsy. He didn’t want my work relationship with you to be damaged over my choice of wife.”
“I see. A rivalry did exist between the ladies at one time, but I think they were companionable enough, once Betsy had full charge of the Fancy and Magdalene just came in to decorate a cake now and then.”
“So the niece of an earl won’t look down on the daughter of a bakery manager?”
“Not in my house,” Lord Judah said. “I’ve never known you to be social outside the family.”
“There was ne
ver much chance. First I was busy with taking on the operation, then Letty was . . . well, it was all about the babies.”
“After your loss.” Lord Judah set down his teacup and wiped the crumbs from his lips. “All I can advise is that you think about how you want to spend your time and see if Betsy fits into that.”
Greggory grinned. Lord Judah tossed his head. “Outside of your bed, I mean.”
“I take your point. I shall consider. It has really gone too far, though. If she indicates any desire to do so, I think I shall have to marry her.”
“You had better think fast, then. Inviting her to stay in your home did make a certain sort of statement.”
“Yes, I was a little naïve there, but safety was also a concern.”
“I agree,” Lord Judah said. “And sudden death makes any man think twice about eternity and loneliness. You could do much worse than Betsy Popham. She’s loyal and hardworking, and a treat for the eyes.”
“It’s ever so kind of you to help,” Mrs. Roach said as Betsy wiped up the linoleum nursery floor on her hands and knees. “Poor Artie’s tummy is very unhappy.”
Betsy dropped the stained rag into a bucket and wiped her hands on an old apron she’d found in a bottom drawer. “He’ll need a new nightshirt.”
Mrs. Roach looked at the exhausted baby. “I hate to bother him now that he’s asleep, but he does smell appalling.”
Betsy went to the cupboard and rummaged around the sloppy piles of clothing. Everything should be in order, but the absence of nursery help meant everything was tangled up and jammed in. She could not believe the expense that had gone into the children’s wardrobe. Sia had silk dresses, though she had never seen the baby in one, and more shoes and bonnets than one baby could ever wear.
How she wished she could bundle up all this largesse and sell it. If she could give Victor Carter the value of every wasteful nursery item in the room, would he finally leave them alone? Violet, too; the pair were obviously in contact, whether or not they were in cahoots. She dreaded the confrontation she needed to have with her newest cakie.
She pulled out a gown with a blue embroidered front panel and brought it to Mrs. Roach. The housekeeper clucked her tongue.
Trifling Favors (Redcakes Book 7) Page 17