“That’s enough, Elise,” Barrett warned.
She could feel William trembling beneath his thin wool jacket. His fear of Barrett was obvious. She handed him the pouch and drew him into her arms again. “Be strong and brave, William,” she whispered in his ear. “Remember that I love you and I will find a way for us to be together soon.”
Huge tears swam in William’s green eyes as Barrett pulled him away, still clutching his velvet pouch.
The moment they left the room, Elise removed her dark hooded cloak from the window seat and drew it around her, and the moment the coach pulled away from the curb, she flew out the door and followed at a distance. Thank heavens city traffic was slow, at best. Alfred’s house was not far, and if William were being held there, she would know it soon. If not, she would lose sight of the coach.
Chapter Seventeen
Once again, Hunt found himself across the room from Elise. That was happening far too often these days. How could he forget her when she was constantly in front of him? Constantly beautiful. Constantly alluring. Tonight was no different. Her cream gown was cut to advantage, revealing the tempting swell of her breasts over the lace ruching at the neckline. The long sleeves did nothing to mask the blatant sexuality of the gown—especially with a sapphire pendant falling between those glorious swells. He glanced around and caught sight of Barrett in hushed conversation with two other men. Looking to drum up a game of whist, no doubt.
Hunt had left Charlie in Horace Thayer’s library, attempting to convince Thayer to allow Charlie access to his banking records and accounts. Charlie was close, he said, to narrowing his lists of investors and insurers to a few excellent candidates. If he could match bank records with insurance and investment records, he insisted he could identify their culprit. As one of the most important bankers in London, Thayer was in a position to further their inquiry. Unfortunately, they had come in the middle of a musicale and were invited to stay. How could they refuse?
On a small dais at one end of the ballroom, Miss Hortense Thayer was playing the pianoforte while her sister, Miss Harriet, sang in a true, sweet voice. Afterward, another guest would play a piece by Mozart. Then another guest…and another…and another. Barrett’s game was suddenly appealing.
As Hunt watched, Elise finished her wine, placed the glass on a sideboard and took another. Was the lady tippling? Oh, yes. She certainly was. Another glass was downed and then she took a third with her to her position in a shadowed corner in the back of the ballroom. God only knew how many she had consumed before he arrived.
Curious, Hunt edged closer, keeping an eye on Barrett. It would never do to be interrupted. Then one of Barrett’s companions produced cigars from an inside pocket of his jacket and the men slipped out the French windows to the terrace—but not before Barrett fixed his wife’s position. Hunt knew Elise would be the first thing Barrett looked for when he returned.
Hunt reached her as the applause for the Misses Thayer began—a convenient cover for his movements. He placed his own empty wineglass on the sideboard and came up behind Elise. She had not noticed him and he waited patiently for the next performer to begin.
When the slow measured strains of Pachelbel’s Canon in D filled the room, she closed her eyes. A tiny glimmer at the corners made him wonder if she was crying. Her shoulders relaxed as she gave herself over to the melody. She tilted her head slightly to one side, as if she were straining to hear the nuances of the music. He noted a discoloring at the base of her throat and wondered at its cause.
He slipped his arm around her midriff, barely touching her. She did not jump or protest, and she was all the more beguiling for that, as if they were the only two people in the room. Her warm wine-scented breath rose to him as she whispered, “Good evening, Lord Lockwood.” Her words were not slurred, just a little soft around the edges.
“How did you know it was me?”
“Who else would dare?”
He smiled, taking a quiet satisfaction in her answer. And he believed her. In fact, he had never seen Barrett touch her in anything resembling a kind manner. “You could have been mine, Elise,” he sighed in her ear.
“No. I never could have been yours. Barrett…”
“That is not a marriage. It is a mockery.” He splayed his hand over her midriff and pressed her back against him. The soft curve of her buttocks jutted against his crotch and, by her tiny gasp, he knew she could feel it, too. “Evidence of my devotion,” he muttered.
She still had not turned to look at him, and did not move or betray anger or disgust in any way. Instead she lifted her glass and drank deeply. “My marriage will not be a mockery after tonight, Lockwood.”
“Why?” he asked, caught up in the feel of her against him, the scent of her perfume, the slight tilt of her head exposing the sweet curve of her throat.
“I have decided to…pay Barrett’s price. T-tonight I am going to…open my bedroom door.”
Everything inside him stilled. There could be no question what she’d meant. Ah, but the hidden news was that she had not shared intimacies with Barrett since her return. “Is that why you are trying to get drunk, madam?”
“Easier that way,” she confirmed.
“Then why? If it is so loathsome, why?”
“Contrition. Penance for my sins. And mostly, for William. Couldn’t find him. And I’m tired of waiting. Tired of not knowing when…” She finished her wine and he took the glass from her hand. “And perhaps, then, I will be able to forget you.”
“You will never forget me, Elise.”
“Is that a curse or a benediction?” She giggled and then covered her mouth. “Shh. Mustn’t be indiscreet.”
“God, no.” He sighed, slipping his left hand up from her stomach to caress her breast. He watched, mesmerized, as her nipple hardened and pressed a perfect round dot against the light cream silk of her gown. How he longed to kiss it, to feel the firm bud against his tongue, but he contented himself with rubbing his thumb across it.
A quick glance around the room revealed that they hadn’t drawn attention, but he knew that couldn’t last. Sooner or later, someone would turn around or Barrett would return from his cigar. Mere days ago, he wouldn’t have cared—might actually have relished the chance to embarrass her. But the sharp edge of his anger had dulled. Now taunting her had become secondary to wanting to be near her. Wanting to touch her.
Charlie entered the ballroom and looked around. Before he could shift his hand, Charlie saw him and smiled. Ah, yes. Charlie. He could count on his brother for what he needed done. And for discretion.
Charlie wiggled his eyebrows at Hunt. “So the lady accounts for your sudden interest in Barrett?”
Hunt scowled to squelch his brother’s amusement. “Did Thayer consent to let you look through deposit and withdrawal records?”
“He did. But it’s all on the hush. If anyone finds out, he says bank business will suffer for it. I’m to say I did it on my own and that no one gave me permission. I swear, Hunt, I’m beginning to feel like a common workaday clerk. I pore over ledgers all day, compare records, enter names and dates.” He heaved a dramatic sigh. “Not quite what I had in mind when I asked the home secretary for a position.”
“If you want something a little more interesting, I could give it to you.”
Charlie’s eyes lit up. “Well? Do not cheat me of it now, brother. I crave excitement.”
Hunt glanced back at Elise. She stood in almost the same position as when he’d left her, but with a fresh glass of wine. “Barrett is outside with a cheroot. When he comes in, I want you to approach him. Pretend you are jolly old friends and that nothing will do but that you go whoring tonight. Gamble with him—”
“Good Lord! The man is beginning to think I am his bosom companion. He’s got the damnedest luck, Hunt. He’ll fleece me seven ways from Sunday.”
“—and I will reimburse your losses,” Hunt continued. “Buy him whiskey. Take him to Alice’s. There’s no act, no perversion, that woman will not acc
ommodate. Just make damn sure Barrett doesn’t make it home until after dawn.”
“You wouldn’t—”
“No, Charlie. I wouldn’t. But Barrett won’t, either. The lady is vulnerable at the moment and not thinking straight.”
“I’ll try, but I’m not sure I am up to the task.”
“Find Andrew. He will help. Hell, he’ll outpace you all.”
Charlie laughed. “And what about the lady?”
“Insist that you take Barrett’s coach, and offer ours to take the lady home.”
“And you, dear brother?”
He shrugged. “I’ll be making certain the lady arrives home safely.”
Hunt waited across the street from the Thayers’ until Elise was handed into his coach and the driver pulled into the stream of traffic. Next, Charlie and Barrett entered a coach that headed in the opposite direction. Then Hunt rounded the corner where, on his previous instructions, his coach had pulled over to wait. He swung up to the passenger step.
“Circle Hyde Park until I tell you to change direction, Anderson,” he called to his driver before entering the darkened coach. He realized with wry amusement that, for a man who had spent his life avoiding social indiscretions, he was becoming expert at them.
Elise’s eyes widened and then she laughed. “Oh, thank heavens! I thought for a moment I would get home safe.”
He took the backward facing seat so that he could watch her. “Just what do you think I am going to do to you, madam?”
“I have no idea, but I know it cannot mean anything good. I usually cannot sleep after one of our encounters.”
“You’ve had enough wine to sleep quite well.”
“Oh, not nearly enough yet.” She looked into a door pocket. “D’you carry any with you? I am thirsty.”
He crossed his arms over his chest and gave her a sardonic smile. If he was any judge, and he was, she had consumed just the right amount—sufficient to be reckless enough to tell the truth, and not enough to lose all sense of herself. “I’ve never been so desperate for strong drink that I couldn’t wait. But now you mention it, would you like me to have Anderson stop and fetch some from a tavern?”
She heaved a melodramatic sigh. “Please do not inconvenience him. I believe it is a short drive home.”
“Not so very short as you would imagine,” he said.
“Then, yes. I would like some wine. ’Twill never do to sober up.”
“Is this a new habit, madam? Or one of long-standing?”
“Recent, my lord. But one I think I am going to thoroughly enjoy. Certainly one that is necessary to my entire future.”
“About that, madam. Could we clarify, please? Am I correct in assuming that you have not resumed marital relations with your husband?”
She wagged a finger at him. “Tch-tch, Lockwood. That’s rather personal, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Oh, I would, indeed. Am I?”
“Correct, you mean? Why, yes. But that cannot be a surprise to you, given that Barrett is a disgusting specimen.”
He laughed. “Actually, it was a surprise to me. I had assumed that, since you had returned to him, you must bear him some affection.”
She shuddered as if he had held smelling salts under her nose. “Where is that wine? I believe the effects are beginning to wear off.”
“And I think you’ve had exactly enough.”
“Not nearly enough,” she contradicted.
“You will not need it tonight, Elise.”
She was silent for a moment, looking out the window. In one of those mercurial changes of mood that sots are prone to, her smile disappeared. “What I need, Lockwood, is to be completely unconscious tonight.”
“Then why are you doing it?”
“Every night he forces my door a little more. Soon, he will lose all pretense at subtlety and simply break it down. I cannot stop him, and we both know it. But, if I can stomach it, and before he can simply force it from me, I intend to use my…favors…as a…trade.”
Good God. Elise was living in terror. But—then the other hints she’d dropped since he’d returned began to make sense. “He is holding something over you, is he not?”
She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the squabs. “Where is that wine?”
“But you came back, believing that you’d go to jail. You wouldn’t come back for me, Elise. So what convinced you?”
“Please…”
He moved to the seat beside her and took her hand so she couldn’t look away. “No, Elise. If you are about to whore yourself, I want to know why.”
She opened her eyes, and he thought he’d never seen such hopelessness and despair. “Whore…” she repeated. “Yes, the very thing I feared I would become.”
He hated seeing her this way and wished he could spare her any further agony. But not yet. Not before he got to the truth. He cupped her face and smoothed her hair back with his thumbs. The scars caught his attention. He knew about the more recent one, but she’d never told him about the faded one. He looked downward, to the discoloration at her throat. And suddenly it all came clear in his mind. He touched the faded scar at her temple. “It was Barrett who did this to you, wasn’t it, Elise?”
She sighed and nodded.
“Why?”
“He was going to hurt William and I tried to stop him.”
Rage tightened his breathing and churned in his gut. “Leave him. I will find you a town house until you can divorce him.”
“On what grounds, my lord? He has a lawful right to beat me. I am in the wrong. I tried to kill him, you know. I stole the Barrett jewels. I kidnapped William, and I disappeared. Any one of those things could see me hanged. Oh, and you mustn’t forget that I’m an adulteress. I certainly shan’t, with you to remind me of it constantly.”
“Elise, you didn’t know he was alive.”
“And that is not the worst of it. The worst is…” She lifted her chin and looked up at him, her eyes pleading with him to understand. “The worst is that I would do it all again and may yet. But I will be certain he is dead next time. So you see, my lord? I am a whore. And a murderess, and a kidnapper, and a thief.”
Dear God. He recognized the despair in her eyes, the hollow look of someone who’d forfeit her soul. He wouldn’t let her do that. He could not allow her to live with the weight of that on her conscience. He’d kill Barrett himself first. When it came to Elise, it would seem he had no conscience.
“Give me a few days, Elise. I will take care of it. Take care of you. I will find a way.”
“No!” She stiffened and pushed his hands away. “You mustn’t. Swear you will not.” She tugged frantically at his cravat. “If anything happens to Barrett, William…”
William. She had said that she couldn’t find him. “Is he using William against you?”
“He found him at school in Charleston and brought him back to London. He knew I would come if he had William. It was a trap, and it worked. It is still working. And how can I divorce him when the courts would grant him custody of William?”
Hunt knew he’d lost the argument. But at least all the pieces of the puzzle finally fit. He knew why she’d come back, and why she stayed with Barrett. There was nothing else she could have done until her son was safe. But there was something he could do.
Before he realized what he was doing, he was kissing her, drawing her close against him, lost in the feel of her in his arms again, her heat, her yielding softness. Her throaty moan was all the encouragement he needed.
He untied the cord of her cloak and pushed it open. He hated the sight of Barrett’s jewels lying so intimately against her flesh and he unfastened the sapphire pendant and dropped it on the floor, leaving the ivory expanse of her flesh pristine.
He kissed the sweet perfumed spot beneath her ear, then trailed his tongue to the dip of her collarbone. She shivered, and he was instantly hard. How he longed to feel her close around him, her inner muscles gripping him, as greedy for him as he was for her. She reach
ed for him, and he let her fumble with his cravat, though that was not where he wanted her hand.
“Hunt,” she pleaded.
He cherished the hollow of her throat, wanting to leave his mark there but knowing she would suffer for it. Instead he hovered, barely touching, feeling the beat of her heart against his lips. Her heart, the one thing he most wanted in this world.
And then he could not wait any longer. He pushed the lace ruching down and dipped his head to take the firm peak between his teeth, gently teasing until she arched and tangled her fingers in his hair.
“Hunt… Hunt,” she crooned.
At last he took her fully into his mouth, sucking and rolling the tight button with his tongue. And now she was nearly frantic with longing. He swept her skirts up her leg, pushed his hand past her smallclothes and found her center, hot and wet with arousal. He stroked her there, too, as he stroked her breast with his tongue, and he felt the first faint tremors pass through her.
He ached. He pulsed. He needed her, and yet… And yet he could go no further than this. She was another man’s wife.
She reached for him, and he knew he’d be lost if she touched him. He brushed her hand aside and increased his pressure. She moaned and wept at the same time, rising to his hand and falling back again, sated.
The storm passed, and he eased his hand away. She pulled him back up to her mouth and he noted the flush of passion on her cheeks. “Think of me,” he whispered against her lips.
He lifted the hood of her cloak and tucked it around her face, then traced her lips with his index finger and hovered there for a long moment, cherishing their softness. Then he retrieved the pendant and pressed it into her palm. “Hold on,” he whispered. “Sleep well, and do not do anything you’ll regret. Be resolute, Elise. I will find a way to help you.”
The clink of silverware against porcelain plates made Elise wince. But, down the lunch table from her, Barrett was in much worse condition. His eyes were bleary and he merely stared at the food, pushing it around his plate with his fork. Finally, he dropped his fork and knife and took a deep drink from his wineglass.
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