by Sara Bennett
She stopped struggling and peered up at him, blinking to clear her gaze. He was a silhouette against the pale lights from the house, and then he’d drawn her off the path and into the foliage, sitting her down on a stone bench placed beneath a fragrant honeysuckle arch. The air was damp and cool, enclosing her, and she wanted to sob against his shoulder and be held in his arms.
“What is it?” he commanded. “Tell me.”
He was holding her hands, and she could feel his hard grip through her gloves, while his thigh brushed hers on the seat—it wasn’t really made for two. “I’d rather not,” she faltered miserably.
“Did he hurt you?” he demanded, bending his head to see her face. He let go of one hand and used his fingertip to smooth away her tears. He was so gentle, it eased her aching heart amazingly.
“No,” she said huskily. “At least, not in the way you’re thinking.”
“Then tell me,” he insisted, tipping up her chin so that she had no choice but to look into his face, into his eyes.
She licked her lips. It was a relief to let the words spill out. “I did everything you said. I rested my hands on his shoulders and stepped close to him. I could feel the-the heat from his body. He was looking at me as if he wanted to kiss me. I’m sure he did want to kiss me. But he was taking so long!”
A frown creased between his slashing black brows. “What do you mean?”
“I didn’t want to wait, in case I changed my mind, I just wanted him to kiss me and make everything all right, so I decided I would kiss him instead of waiting for him to kiss me. Only it all went wrong,” she ended, her voice catching.
“How did it go wrong?” he insisted, and she knew he wasn’t going to let her off without hearing the entire truth.
So, reluctantly, but with a certain sense of relief, she told him.
Chapter 13
Richard bit his lip, struggling with laughter. And delight. Serve Horace Gilfoyle right, he was a frog. But now definitely wasn’t the time to say so to Tina.
He took a steadying breath and softened his tone. “Oh dear, Tina.”
She tried to pull away, but he held her, gently but implacably. He sensed that if she got away now, he’d never catch her. She gave a choking sob, her body resting trustingly against his.
“I’ll never be able to convince him that I’m the woman he wants to marry. Not now. He’ll never let me forget what I said. I know him. He will d-delight in reminding me at every o-opportunity.”
“Hush, stop it, Tina.”
After a moment, she did, giving a decisive sniff. He handed her his handkerchief and she dabbed at her eyes.
“Actually I think it was rather endearing.”
“Endearing?” She looked up at him in astonishment. “Would you have laughed?”
He told her the truth. “Yes, but I would have kissed you, too. He’s a fool to have let the opportunity pass. You must make him suffer for it, you do know that, don’t you? You can’t forgive him too easily. You must make him work for the privilege of kissing you now.”
She liked that idea; he could see it in the curve of her sweet mouth.
Richard shifted a little uncomfortably on his seat as desire dug its claws into him. Just as well it was so dark here, although she was too innocent to know what the bulge in his trousers meant. Increasingly he became aware of the brush of her skirt against his thigh and fantasized that it was her skin. Imagined laying her back over his arm, while his mouth was busy on her breasts. Licking, tugging, kissing. And she would be sighing and moaning and begging him for more.
“Show me how you put your hands on his shoulders,” he heard himself saying in a husky voice. “Show me how you were going to kiss him.”
She hesitated, and for a moment he thought she was going to show good sense and refuse, but no, she was turning toward him. She reached up to smooth her palms across his broad shoulders, settling them to her satisfaction, and then she gazed up into his face from the shadow of the honeysuckle arch. Her green eyes gleamed.
“Like this,” she whispered.
“And what did you plan to do?” he said, knowing he was mad to persist with this and unable to stop himself.
She wriggled a little closer. “I planned to brush my mouth over his, just gently, just to see what he would do.” Again she followed her words with actions. He tried not to groan aloud. “And kiss the corners of his lips, and perhaps lick him with my tongue, to taste him.”
This time he did groan. He couldn’t help it. As she teased him with her lips, he followed her mouth with his. Capturing it. Kissing her with a deepening passion. Although he was far gone, a part of his brain still expected her to reject him, push him away. But Tina responded instantly, clinging to him, her breasts hard against his chest while he lightly caressed her throat and bare shoulders, skipping the dress sleeves to run his fingers over her arms to the edges of her long evening gloves.
There wasn’t enough bare skin to find and touch, and he wanted more.
Much more.
She tried to pull away, and for a moment he thought he’d finally frightened her with his desire, but as he opened his mouth to apologize, she put her fingertips against his lips. Then he heard it, too. The sound of footsteps quickly approaching down the path. He drew her back into his arms, so that she rested against him, feeling her quickening breath against the hollow of his throat, the clutch of her hand on his lapel.
It was Horace Gilfoyle.
They could see him through the shielding screen of shrubs. He was walking with his head down, and as they watched, he paused and gave a chuckle. The next moment it was as if he felt their gazes upon him because he lifted his head, suddenly alert, and peered into the shadows.
“Tina?” he called softly. “Tina, where are you? Do come out. I didn’t mean to laugh, but you have to admit, it was very-very funny.”
He could hardly keep his continence at the memory, and Richard felt her stiffen and held her tighter in case she decided to fly out of cover and attack her future husband. But then Horace gave a sigh and moved on toward the house, and they were alone again.
He stroked her silky back. “It’s all right. He’s gone. And he’s already regretting what he did.”
“No he’s not,” she retorted, keeping her voice low with an effort. “He thinks it’s all so hilarious. He will tell everyone, particularly Charles. They’ll giggle every time they see me. They’re like schoolboys when it comes to something like this.”
“Tina, stop it.” He pulled her to her feet and turned her to him. “Listen to me. Are you listening?”
Startled, she stared up at him. “I’m listening,” she whispered.
“You will ignore them because you are above all that. Above them. Believe me, Lord Horace will regret what he did. Think a moment, ask yourself why he lured you out here? Alone? He’s interested. He isn’t completely yours, not yet, but he will be soon.”
She stared at him a moment longer, and then she asked, “Why are you here tonight? I don’t understand why you are here.”
Awkward question. Richard did his best to answer it without actually answering it.
“I thought you wanted me here. That’s what you told me.”
“Yes”—she eyed him suspiciously—“but I didn’t think you could make it happen. My mother is furious. You are-you are . . .”
“Not suitable for polite society? A rogue? A rake? A scoundrel without conscience? A seducer? Someone not to be trusted with a lady’s virtue? A man about town? Come, Tina, what am I?”
He was angry, and he couldn’t hide it. He knew he was called all of those things, and perhaps long ago as a boy he had been such a creature, but now it was all a game, a necessary role he was playing. The real Richard Eversham was someone else, someone dangerous, someone who lived in the shadows, someone Tina would be better off not knowing.
Suddenly he felt a wave of despair wash over him. It seemed ages since he’d had a normal conversation with someone without thinking about the Guardians and how best
to get information for them. Every situation he found himself in these days had something to do with his work. With hunting his brother’s killer. How would he ever return to normal once Anthony’s killer was brought to justice? If he was brought to justice.
Because Richard had made a vow to continue the hunt for as long as it took, and until then his entire life, his entire future, was in limbo.
He came to himself with a start. Tina was touching his face, her gloved finger stroking the corner of his mouth. “Don’t be angry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I don’t think of you like that at all. It was just that your being here made it more difficult for me to play my part, to remember what you’d told me to do. I kept thinking about you instead.”
He struggled to regain his usual charm—although he was so good at playing his part she would never have known that his smile was forced. He captured her hand and kissed her palm, folding her fingers inside his. “I’m not angry with you, Tina.”
She smiled, glancing at him through her lashes in that innocent-provocative manner he found so enchanting. “I’m glad.” She was so delightful that Richard wanted to kiss her again, but he knew he must refrain. He’d done enough for one night—he must not ruin her reputation beyond repair.
Tina gave a furtive glance over her shoulder toward the house. “I must go in. My mother will be frantic, and if you are seen to be missing, too!” Her eyes sparkled, and she gave a giggle. “Imagine what she will be thinking.”
“Imagine what Horace will be thinking,” he said meaningfully. “He will be jealous, Tina. And you must make the most of it. Shrug indifferently if he begins to lecture you on your morals. He has no leg to stand on there. Give a secretive little smile if he asks you what you were doing.”
Her smile faded a little. She glanced at him as they regained the path. “I know Horace is a man about town, but is he very bad? I mean, does he have a mistress? Or two? I don’t know if I want to marry a man who has a mistress.”
Richard wondered if he should enlighten her as to the state of most marriages in polite society but decided this was neither the place nor the time. “It is a fashionable affectation,” he said with a shrug. “Once he marries you, he will change his ways.”
“Yes, of course,” Tina replied briskly, but he heard the doubt in her voice.
She’d told him that Horace was the love of her life, her childhood sweetheart, and yet she was behaving as though this marriage was not for love at all. As if it was something she must do despite the fact that she didn’t particularly want to do it.
Richard reminded himself he must speak to Archie and get to the bottom of all this.
They were nearly at the terrace now, and he stopped and moved back. “Go on alone, Tina. We mustn’t be seen together. And come to see me tomorrow. Can you do that?”
She looked at him as if she didn’t want to let him go. He felt his body responding to her and clamped down on his feelings. What he was imagining was madness, and a dangerous sort of madness. There was far too much at stake to muddy the waters with an ill-conceived passion.
“If I can, I will,” she promised. “But don’t you have any other clients to see? I wouldn’t want to monopolize your time.”
“At the moment, you are my most important client,” he said gallantly, with a bow.
He watched as Tina hurried up the stairs and in through the open glass doors of the drawing room. There was a rise in sound, as though her entrance had caused a stir, and then her mother came to whisk her farther into the room and beyond his sight.
Richard found a cigar and lit it, spending some time deep in thought.
And, he admitted wryly, allowing his body to calm itself. Eventually he made his way back into the house, slipping unobtrusively inside and making certain to attach himself to Sir Henry, where he remained until it was time to leave.
Tina had known she wouldn’t get off lightly, and as she’d feared, Lady Carol came to her room as she was preparing for bed.
“What on earth were you thinking! Going off into the garden like that. Horace was most concerned for you.”
“Horace?” she said, taken aback.
“He said you had a little tiff. What was it about?”
Her mother had warned her about gentlemen like Horace taking advantage, and Tina used it to her own advantage now. “He tried to kiss me,” she murmured, looking away as if the memory was a shameful one.
“A kiss?” Lady Carol declared. “Is that all? My dear, if you mean to marry the man, you will have to bear rather more than his kisses!”
Tina was startled, and so was her mother, so to Tina’s relief no more was said.
When Maria came to brush her hair, Tina was so agitated that it took a while for her to realize that Maria seemed a little agitated herself. After the maid had pulled her hair for the third time, Tina took the brush from her, and said, “Maria, whatever is it?”
Maria twisted her hands together, her dark eyes anxious. “I heard Mr. Eversham was at dinner, miss. Is that true?”
“Yes, he was.” Tina spoke evenly and tried not to remember kissing him, in case, she thought superstitiously, Maria saw it in her eyes. “Do you know him, Maria?”
“No, I don’t know him. I . . . that is, I . . .” Maria was definitely worried about something.
“Tell me, for heaven’s sake.”
“I know his man, miss. Archie Jones.”
“His man?” She knew Archie!
“His servant. Butler. Valet.” Maria gave an uncharacteristically nervous laugh. “He’s all three.”
Tina blinked. “Archie Jones,” she said cautiously. What had Archie told Maria? Did she know about her visits to Richard Eversham? She must not tell Lady Carol.
Now it was Tina’s turn to be worried.
“We’re, eh, walking out, miss. In a way. Nothing serious, just friends.”
Tina turned to her reflection in the mirror and began to brush her own hair. “I don’t understand. How did you meet him, Maria?”
“We just sort of bumped into each other, miss,” Maria explained rather vaguely.
“He hasn’t mentioned me?”
Maria started. “Goodness no, miss, why should he?”
Tina shrugged as if it were unimportant. “I-I know Mr. Eversham. A little. You must say nothing to anyone, Maria, it is entirely a business matter, and my parents would be sure to think the worst. Please, promise me you will say nothing to anyone.”
“I promise, miss,” Maria spoke with passion, and Tina believed her.
“Thank you, Maria.”
The maid took the brush from Tina and began to resume her duties with more care. The sensation of the brush against Tina’s scalp was soothing.
“Why did you ask about Mr. Eversham, Maria?” Tina asked dreamily. “Was it because of Archie?”
Maria seemed to be in a dream of her own and took a moment to answer. “Yes, miss, that was it. I knew he wasn’t the sort of man to . . . well, from what Archie says, he’s not known to be much in polite society.”
Tina was satisfied with that, and soon she was tucked up in bed with the house silent about her. She was tired, and yet she couldn’t seem to fall asleep for longer than a few moments.
She kept remembering her blunder with Horace, which made her prickly with dismay and embarrassment, and then her thoughts would turn to Richard’s kissing her, and that made her feel warm and restless. She’d planned to visit him tomorrow. She wanted to. But she was beginning to wonder if that was a good idea.
Tina knew she was meant to be capturing Horace, to be concentrating solely on Horace, and here she was spending her time thinking about Richard. If she was going to succeed with her plan to marry Horace, then she really would have to stop allowing herself to be sidetracked into deliciously unknown territory.
Chapter 14
Richard opened the door of Sir Henry’s office in Whitehall, obeying his instruction to enter. As usual the room was full of cigar smoke, and Sir Henry was frownin
g over a stack of papers.
“Ah, Richard, here you are. Well, what did you think of our candidates for the Captain?”
“I favor Gilfoyle although Little is an interesting character. Have you found out any more about him?”
Sir Henry was thoughtful. “I have made some inquiries, but he’s a cagey fellow. It’s as if he arrived in the tobacco-importing business fully formed. I can’t find out very much about his early years, but he’s certainly done well for himself since then. Keeps to himself, too. Doesn’t seem to be much in the style of Gilfoyle, so their friendship, if that’s what it is, appears odd.”
Richard sat down, feeling his eyes begin to water from the smoke. He considered throwing open a window, but he knew that Sir Henry was particularly anxious about being overheard, and there were always listening ears in Whitehall.
“What do you think the state of play is with Miss Smythe and Gilfoyle?” Sir Henry asked curiously, glancing up at Richard from under his bushy eyebrows. “Can’t see much sign of an impending marriage. What was all that fuss last night about Miss Smythe’s vanishing into the garden after a tiff?”
“The man is a fool,” Richard said shortly.
Sir Henry grunted.
“You know the Smythes well, sir?”
“I knew the father in the army, but it was a long time ago. We have remained friends, but I wouldn’t say I knew him intimately. The wife was the one with the money—it was a love match. Lady Carol is rather fond of show, and she would be keen for her daughter to marry a man who could set her up in style, and Gilfoyle is that man.”
“I know I asked you to get me an invitation, but I was surprised you managed it.”
Sir Henry grinned wolfishly. “Jolly fun wasn’t it? If they but knew the truth, eh? But, seriously, I hope you receive proper recognition for your work one day, Richard.”
“I don’t need recognition, sir, just let me have Anthony’s killer.”
Sir Henry fiddled with his papers. “There have been whispers—not loud ones mind, Sir Thomas keeps things close to his chest—but there have been whispers that he is in a hole, financially. Lost Lady Carol’s fortune. But that might explain why the girl is so eager to marry Gilfoyle.”