Desire Me More

by Tiffany Clare

  Huxley was at Nick’s desk, writing a note.

  “To what do I owe the pleasure of your late-night company?” Nick asked.

  “Figured you’d be down,” Huxley said morosely. “You’ve been wandering the house at all hours of the night the whole week.”

  “It’s that obvious.” It wasn’t a question; he’d just hoped to keep his sleeping difficulties to himself—though it was hard to get anything past Huxley.

  “Yes. But I’m sure I’m the only one who’s noticed. Keep it up, and the rest of the staff will see something amiss. You look like hell, Nick. Almost as bad as when I pulled you out of the fighting pits you favored.”

  The last thing Nick wanted to do was take a trip down memory lane.

  “Had I not fought for money, I wouldn’t be as successful today as I am.” Nick plopped himself down in a leather chair and leaned his head back with a yawn. Tiredness and restlessness were a terrible combination. Even if he did try to sleep, his thoughts alone would keep him awake. “I will have it back under control before anyone is the wiser,” Nick said, though it felt like an empty promise, even to his own ears. His demons were his own to fight. “What has you up so late?”

  “Penning a note to my man in Highgate.”

  Nick sat up. “Didn’t take you long to set up someone there.”

  “Not at all,” Huxley gave him a strange look. “I know what’s got your thoughts all twisted. And it won’t do you no good running from it. Highgate is going to be in your possession soon. You have to decide how you want to handle the business with the vicar.”

  “This isn’t up for debate, Huxley. I will handle him in my own way when the land is transferred to my name.” And when he figured out just how he would deal with the vile man.

  Huxley and Sera were the only people who knew about Nick’s past, but no one really knew the whole of it. Except Shauley.

  Huxley bent his head again and started scribbling out more words. “Does she know?”

  “I can only assume you mean Amelia.”

  “Who else? She’s been besotted with you from the moment she came here. Didn’t think she’d be the type you’d pursue, but she’s a good enough lass.”

  “I didn’t come down here to discuss her either.”

  “Oh, I know. Just thought I’d mention you aren’t exactly being circumspect. Neither of you is.”

  “And what makes you think I would want to be?”

  “I don’t much care what you do, Nick. We go back too many years to not see a difference in each other. Especially a difference like her. But you should tell her your real intentions with the Lord Murray deal. A lass such as she doesn’t come by often.”

  The Lord Murray deal. The vicar. His dealings with Shauley, who had been such a significant part of his past that that was the reason sleep eluded him of late. The reason he paced the house with a million thoughts traipsing through his head, unable to shut them out. Thank God the deal was going to be done in the morning.

  Nick stood. He couldn’t sit here for the rest of the night, discussing the darker days of his life. “I’m going to catch a few hours of sleep before we meet with the solicitors in the morning.”

  “Probably wise.”

  “We’ll leave at ten.”

  “Your secretary should attend in my stead.”

  He was right. But Nick didn’t want Amelia anywhere near Shauley, who was sure to be there. He was a slimy bastard. And he suspected the man to be entrenched with Highgate’s darker secrets . . .

  Amelia had proven that she could handle herself in any number of situations. She wasn’t a delicate flower he needed to shield from the world. And as much as he wanted to do just that, he knew his overprotectiveness might cause her to wither.

  “You’re right. Amelia will attend with me in the morning.” He stood to leave, as he couldn’t very well stay in here when he craved solitude. “Good night, Huxley.”

  Waking up alone again this morning shouldn’t have been a surprise to Amelia, but after her resolve to talk to Nick last night, it stung. She’d been patient with him. But that patience was wearing thin. He couldn’t continue avoiding her.

  She dressed and went down to the kitchens for breakfast. Not everyone had made it down for the day, but Huxley was present, reading the paper as the twins, Jenny and Jessie, set the table.

  “Good morning,” Amelia said on entering the dining hall.

  Huxley looked up and gave her his usual grunt. He was a man of few words unless he wanted to make a point. While he played the role of Nick’s man of affairs, anyone could tell they were friends that had a deep appreciation for each other. Amelia guessed that came from knowing someone for so long.

  “Morning,” the twins said in unison.

  “What’s for breakfast today?” she asked of no one in particular. In the first household she’d worked in, she’d never had the camaraderie she had with these people. Misfits, every one of them, including her. Everyone one of them plucked from a bad situation and given a home with a decent job to support themselves.

  Mrs. Coleman bustled into the room with a hot dish in her hands. She was like a mother hen to them all. “Kippers, ham, and hash.”

  “A hearty breakfast,” Amelia mused aloud. “How’s the weather, then?”

  “Getting colder by the day,” Mrs. Coleman responded.

  Amelia went into the cooking area and said good morning to the cook. “What can I take into the dining hall, Joshua?”

  The cook looked at her, his glass eye eerily unmoving. While the sight once had made Amelia uneasy, Joshua was the most jovial and one of the kindest people she’d ever met. “Good morning to you, too, child. Mrs. Coleman’s got the breakfast platters taken care of. I’m just finishing up these tomatoes. But if you want to do something, prepare the tea set.”

  She gave him a smile and did as he asked. She’d never felt kinship with anyone who’d lived in her house when she was growing up, so being at the Riley residence was a relief in so many ways.

  Carrying the tea service into the next room, she saw that everyone else was present. Lately, she’d been dining with Mr. Riley in the breakfast room on the second floor, but not these past few days. She missed his company, but was thankful for the friends she had made among the rest of the serving staff.

  They remained informal in the dining hall, which helped lend to a welcoming atmosphere. Everyone milled about the table and piled food on their plates before taking a random seat. There was no order to station or position. Everyone was equal here.

  Mrs. Coleman prepared Huxley’s dish and set it down in front of him. “And what’s the gossip today?” Mrs. Coleman asked Huxley.

  “This and that. Nothing in particular that might affect this house,” he responded.

  “Well, that’s not what I heard,” Jenny said.

  “What have you heard, then?” Olive, a young maid of only sixteen, piped in. “The butcher’s son came by, he did; gave me a good earful.”

  “Rumors ’bout Mr. Riley killing a man,” Jessie said.

  Amelia’s fork stopped halfway to her mouth. “Are you sure he meant Mr. Riley?”

  “Yes, Miss Grant,” said Huxley. “Been expecting it too. Heard it a week ago from my man about the docks and thought that was the end of it. He’s got no reason to be killing off people that cross him, whether they’re a relation to you or not.”

  “I never suspected him of being involved with my brother’s death, Huxley. Why would Mr. Riley have reason or cause to harm anyone?” Amelia asked. Since the moment she’d arrived, Nick had been nothing but caring and generous, and despite what Sera had told her yesterday, she knew in her heart that Nick wouldn’t harm someone to the point of causing death. “Surely none of you believes the rumors.”

  A chorus of no went around the table, and everyone focused on breakfast again. There were a few tidbits of gossip related to Nick’s businesses, but Amelia paid none of it the attention she should. When the meal was finished, she helped clear the plates before she
headed upstairs. Huxley wasn’t far behind her.

  “Is there something I might help you with?” Amelia asked.

  “I have errands to run outside the house. Nick wants you present. You’ll need to witness, as will Lord Murray’s secretary.”

  “I’ll make sure I’m ready before ten.” She grabbed up the missives on the foyer table and then turned to call Huxley back. “Where is Mr. Riley this morning?”

  “Went to meet Lord Burley at his club.”

  “Do you know how long it will be before Lord Burley takes over the leases in Highgate?”

  Huxley eyed her suspiciously, probably wondering where she’d come by that information. She held her head high and waited for his response. Huxley would have to assume that Nick had told her about that particular arrangement.

  “Best you ask Mr. Riley for further clarification. I wouldn’t want to give you the wrong information. I’ve been out of the workings of this deal too long to recall all the details.”

  While Amelia had a great deal of respect for Huxley, he never let her in on much and often told her to discuss her questions directly with Nick. She supposed that was how he remained loyal to Nick, but it still irritated her to no end when a simple answer or revelation would suffice.

  “I will ask him, thank you.” Amelia nibbled on her lip as indecision stalled her. “Huxley?”

  “Yes, Miss Grant.” He folded his arms behind his back as he stood in front of her.

  “The rumors about Mr. Riley . . . Why do you think anyone would believe him possible of killing my brother?”

  “Mr. Riley was once a fighter. That was how he made his money, bloodying up other men’s faces for high stakes. Anyone with a gambling mind and money in his pocket would remember that.”

  Her brother had been a gambling man, one without scruples. What would it take for another man to bet against someone being physically harmed? That thought sent revulsion though her whole body and made goose flesh form on her arms.

  “Is someone trying to sabotage Mr. Riley’s name?” she asked.

  “Oh, you’re something innocent at times, Miss Grant.”

  “I could do without the insults, Huxley,” she snapped. “I can’t learn anything if everyone keeps mum and if you try to coddle me. I’m Mr. Riley’s secretary; these things are important to know if I’m to succeed in assisting him.”

  “They don’t care about his name, though they’ll enjoy trying to run that into the ground too. They want to frame him for your brother’s death. Take him out of the race as a successful landowner and businessman. Let me ask you something, Miss Grant. Being a lady by birth and the daughter of an earl, would your father have considered Nick an equal?”

  She mulled over her answer a moment. “My father was a good man, Huxley, and while I want to believe he would accept any man who worked hard as an equal, I can’t say for certain if that would have been possible.”

  “So you see the dilemma with society. Nick is richer than most. He holds more property than they ever will and without the hindrance of being heavily taxed, as the gentry are when someone new successes a title. And while Nick’s properties might not be in a desirable location, he holds all the cards on his businesses, and no one can interfere with the empire he’s built over the last ten years.”

  “Except . . . ”

  “Men like us don’t mingle as equals in any social circle, Miss Grant. We have to conquer and sometimes diminish those around us to get ahead.”

  “Doesn’t every man anger someone on his path to success?”

  “Not when you’re born into the privilege of money and status. Those men are held to a different standard than the rest of the world.”

  Amelia frowned at this revelation. “I understand what you’re saying, but that doesn’t explain why anyone would think Mr. Riley capable of killing my brother.”

  “It’s easier to point a finger at him, Miss Grant. That’s how it is for men like us. We are a challenge to be crushed, to be diminished, so those with higher social standing can feel vindicated and worthy of their stations in life.”

  Huxley’s words held merit, but that didn’t make any of this situation right. Nor did it make it clear why they would want to blame her brother’s death on Nick, when Jeremy was a wastrel of the worst sort. The bigger question was, who was trying to destroy Nick’s credibility? Who wanted to see him lose everything? Lord Ashley, the man she was supposed to marry to clear her brother’s debts? That didn’t make sense and seemed unlikely, for she was sure that man was forever out of her life the moment her brother had died. So whom did that leave? How many enemies could Nick possibly have made?

  “Thank you for your honesty, Huxley.” Before she turned back toward the study, she said, “I plan on answering correspondence before heading out to see the solicitor. Will you be joining us?”

  Huxley shook his head. “I’m off to the docks. I got a lead on the buyer who wharfinger’s selling Mr. Riley’s and Lord Burley’s goods to.”

  A good portion of Nick’s goods had gone missing en route to his docking company on the Thames. He brought in wool from Landon’s sheep farm in the north of Scotland and consequently, those were the ledgers she had been reviewing for variances, as she had a good head for numbers.

  She reached for Huxley’s arm and squeezed it gently. “Be careful, Huxley. With everything that’s happened over the past month, I want everyone to be vigilant.”

  “Don’t you worry about me, miss. I’ve been through times more dangerous than this, if you catch what I’m saying.” With that, he was off.

  Amelia was surprised that Nick hadn’t come back to the house before she’d finished her tasks, though he had sent a note advising her that a hired carriage would be waiting for her at half past nine. When she arrived at the solicitor’s office—five minutes late, to her everlasting distress; she did hate to be even a minute late—Nick wasn’t yet there. Lord Murray, however, was standing outside, his scowl in place.

  “Lord Murray.” She ducked her head as she approached. “I’m sorry if I kept you waiting. Mr. Riley was held back at his morning appointment. He sent me right away and said he would follow in a short while.” She hated to lie, but to date, Lord Murray had been unimpressed with Nick, and she didn’t want today to begin inauspiciously.

  Mr. Shauley stood next to Lord Murray, watching her to the point that she felt uncomfortable, and she shifted under his scrutiny.

  “I don’t want to hear your excuses, Miss Grant. It shouldn’t surprise me that we are ready to do our sign-offs, and he’s nowhere in sight.” Lord Murray’s response was gruff, and while she was accustomed to his straightforwardness, she still cringed at his harsh words.

  “I cannot apologize enough. The streets are overrun with carts and carriages alike. I could have walked here faster, had I the mind for some exercise.”

  Murray harrumphed but said nothing.

  Trying to change the tone to something lighter, she decided to ask about the love of his life, a woman she’d had the pleasure of meeting a few weeks earlier over dinner. “How is Heddie? I did so enjoy our dinner conversation at the Langtry Hotel.”

  “Good enough. Happier when I unhand this land.”

  Apparently that left them with nothing else to discuss while they waited on Nick. She was beginning to understand why Nick disliked Lord Murray—he wasn’t a great conversationalist, at least not without a never-ending supply of wine.

  “Shall we?” Lord Murray said, opening the door to the solicitor’s office, allowing her to enter the warmth first. She shivered a little when the heat of the room slapped her in the face but was thankful to get out of the wind. Lord Murray approached the man sitting behind the mahogany desk off to the side of the room.

  “Ten o’clock with Mr. Cavendale.” His voice boomed around the spacious room.

  “Yes, of course, Lord Murray. Mr. Cavendale is just concluding his last appointment. May I offer you refreshment or a hot beverage?”

  “We’ll wait. Riley’s running beh
ind schedule as it is.”

  Amelia stripped off her gloves and warmed her hands near the burning coals; the red brick of the fireplace covered the whole of one wall. Lord Murray picked up a newspaper and flicked it open as he sat in one of the two dark leather chairs, ignoring both Amelia and Mr. Shauley.

  “Mr. Shauley, how was your morning?” Amelia asked, not sure what they should discuss. An instinct told her not to trust this man, so the less personal their topics of conversations, the better—and that might have something to do with Sera’s revelation in how far back Nick’s acquaintance went with this man.

  “How are you keeping as Nick’s secretary?” he asked, making her feel more uncomfortable with his familiar use of Nick’s name.

  “Well.” Amelia pulled her hands away from the coals and faced Shauley, determined not to let him frighten her.

  “Only ‘well’? Surely you can say more about the position than that. I haven’t run into any women in this profession, so I am genuinely curious about you.”

  She couldn’t help but feel as though Mr. Shauley was trying to obtain private details of her relationship with Nick. “It’s been a great challenge, and Mr. Riley has been a kind employer. I’m still fairly new to the position and learning the role.”

  “Lady Luck must have been on your side to land such a lofty job after only just arriving in London.”

  Like the previous comment about her country accent, his familiarity with her sent a shiver of fear across her skin. “I hadn’t realized Lord Murray knew of my situation.”

  Mr. Shauley inched closer, so close that Amelia felt her pulse kick up and goose flesh prickle her skin. “I assure you,” he said, “his lordship remains blissfully ignorant.”

  To say Amelia felt uneasy was an understatement. “You are well informed of my circumstance, Mr. Shauley.”

  “I make it my business to know every intimate detail of anyone with whom Lord Murray has dealings.”

  While Amelia would have liked to take a step away from Shauley, she refused to be cowed by a man of his ilk. Head high, shoulders back, she faced him unflinchingly.