Viridis - A Steampunk Romance

by Calista Taylor

  Her body shuddered under his assault, a scream on her lips as her orgasm tore through her, yet he could do little but pause for just a heartbeat before continuing, his own need now teetering on the edge. He flipped them over with one swift move, landing her on top of him, his hard length never leaving the warm sheath of her body.

  “Like that, is it?” she asked. Mischief tugged at the corner of her mouth, as he now offered himself up to her mercies, his body prone. She sat up, bracing her weight on her knees as she lifted herself up along his shaft, oh so slowly, stopping only when she got to the very top. Her hips shifted to and fro, before slipping back down his length in one quick go only to start their torturously slow ascent once again.

  His cock, rock hard and ready to burst, pulsed in desperation. “Phoebe, my love, your going to be the death of me.”

  He reached up to grab her hips, needing to bury himself fully, but she swatted his hands away. “Don’t you dare, Seth Elliott. You’ll not spill your seed until I tell you. Do you hear me?”

  He bit his lip and nodded, not sure he’d be able to keep up his end of the bargain. Her hair was a tangled mass, her shift barely on as it fell precariously off her shoulder, her skin luminescent in the predawn light.

  Phoebe continued to torment him, changing the pace or shifting to keep him guessing and driving him further insane, gently raking her nails down his chest, pausing to pinch his nipples erect. She left him lightheaded, all his blood having drained south, his heart sputtering as it threatened to stop working altogether.

  “Phoebe…” He pleaded with her, knowing he could not take much more. Her pace mercifully started to quicken, and he sat up, clamping an arm around her waist to press her body to his as she continued to ride him.

  He kissed her hard, his desperation palpable, his self-control slipping with each additional thrust until she finally spoke the words he needed to hear.

  “Now, my love.”

  Chapter Thirty One

  After dropping Phoebe off, Seth and Gavin returned to Seth’s home in companionable silence. They headed into the drawing room where Gavin poured them a drink while he got a fire going. Seth took the offered glass and then sank into one of the chairs by the fireplace.

  Gavin looked at him, the corners of his mouth just starting to curl. “You look exhausted, mo charaid. ‘Twas a rough night, aye?”

  “I reckon you could say that. Though it had its benefits.”

  Gavin laughed. “I dinna doubt it.” He sipped his drink, then said, “Look, it’s been grand spending time with yerself and Phoebe, but dinna feel like ye need to be dragging me around with ye. I’m ne’er at a loss to find something to keep myself occupied.”

  “Nonsense. I enjoy what little time we get when you’re in town, as does Phoebe. Who knows when I’ll next see you, aye? Besides, you’d be getting yourself into far too much trouble otherwise, and Phoebe would have my hide if anything happened to during one of your adventures and me not there to save you.”

  Gavin looked down at his drink playing with the glass, before finally speaking. “I’m sorry about the entire situation, mo charaid. I’d ne’er want to come between the two of ye. Just thought ye had a right to ken the truth— especially with the wedding and me marrying ye, though the truth is I was out of line from the start.”

  Seth knew Gavin was taking it hard. “No worries. It’s in the past and I had no claim at the time. But that was the past, and I have a rightful claim now, aye?”

  “Aye. It’s nae something I’ll be forgetting.” He looked back at his drink for a moment longer before bringing the glass to his lips and throwing back the rest.

  “Listen, Moore and Clarke have something brewing and I don’t know when it will all come to a head. If they’re having you transport weapons, then a revolution is closer than I previously thought. I wish I knew what Moore and Clarke were up to, but it’s hard to know.”

  “Aye. They keep things to themselves, but ‘tis likely the reason they’ve stayed alive this long. The SS would have killed the Cause by now if it werena for the two of them.”

  Seth ran a hand down his face. “I know I’ve asked you to take Phoebe as far from here as possible if something should happen, and when I first thought to ask, I did not think she would protest o’er much.” He paused to shake his head. “I’m afraid I was mistaken.”

  Gavin laughed. “Based on the sounds coming through the wall, I’m half surprised she didn’t have your guts for garters.”

  “Truth of the matter is, I do not think she’ll make it any easier for you, mo charaid. Regardless, I need to know that you’ll be successful in seeing her safe— that you won’t let her bully or charm her way out of it.”

  “I’ll not fail ye.” He then smirked. “I may not survive it, but I’ll see her safe first.” A knock at the door interrupted their conversation.

  Seth got up to answer and was surprised to find William on his doorstep. “Inspector. I’d not been expecting you. Please come in.” They headed to the sitting room. “Have a seat. Can I get you a drink?” Seth’s gut clenched. The inspector looked stiff and formal, his face grim. It was not difficult to guess why.

  “No. Thank you. I’m afraid my business here is not pleasant. You’ll pardon me,” he bowed his head in Gavin’s direction, “but this may be something you want to discuss in private.”

  Seth shook his head. “No worries, Inspector. Feel free to speak your mind.”

  William took the offered seat, and ran a hand down a tired face before speaking. “Do you know Lord Victor Fenwick?” William’s eyes were now locked on Seth’s.

  Victor. He scoffed as he gave his head a shake. “I have met him on a few occasions, though I cannot say I’ve ever been in his company for more than a few minutes. What is this regarding, Inspector?”

  William sighed. “Lord Fenwick has accused you of attempting to murder him. Would you know anything about this?”

  Seth’s eyebrows shot up in question, his voice still calm. “I know that if I had wanted the man dead, he’d not still be breathing.”

  William sat forward, looking like he’d aged another ten years. “Is he the one who hurt Lady Hughes?”

  Seth’s thoughts raced as he debated his options, finally deciding the truth would be best since William already knew of his involvement. “Aye, he is.”

  “I will say this is an unfortunate matter that is unlikely to go away on its own. If Lord Fenwick decides to pursue this charge, you could be in quite a bit of hot water. Unless Lady Hughes were to formally press charges? I can act as witness to her injuries, though not to the event itself.”

  Seth shook his head no, a spark of anger flaring up. “I do not want her to have to revisit the situation, and I doubt any good would come of it regardless.”

  William tilted his head in acknowledgement. “That very well may be the case, however it may be your only hope. I need the details of the incident, as best as you can recall them.”

  Seth nodded. He knew it could not be helped, but at least he had the truth on his side. He recalled the entire incident to William, starting with Phoebe’s attack.

  William jotted it all down in his book, then flipped it closed with a sigh. “I will see what can be done. I’ll have to speak to Lady Hughes, you understand.” He got up to go.

  Seth also stood, his mind already running through the possibilities. “Yes, I suppose you must.”

  “I’ll take the information to my superiors, though I will warn you, Mr. Elliott. I do not think this will be the end of it. Lord Fenwick does not appear to be the type of man to let something like this go, and I’m afraid he has more than a few friends in positions of power.”

  Seth nodded, dread growing in his gut as he thought of the promise he made to Phoebe to not keep secrets. If ever there were something to keep from her, being accused of attempted murder would certainly be it.

  They walked to the door, but William turned before stepping over the threshold. “I will have to ask you to stay in London until this matt
er is resolved.”

  He inwardly groaned. Phoebe would not be pleased. “Yes, of course. Good day to you.”

  Chapter Thirty Two

  With the safe for her journal delivered and installed in her laboratory, Phoebe took advantage of the free time. Running through the calculations on her new formula, Sanctis, she found herself distracted by thoughts of her wedding. At least she would still be getting married, despite last night’s arguments on the airship. She could not have been more relieved to have the incident with Gavin out in the open and behind them, all forgiven.

  A knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts and she looked up to see Martha standing at the entrance.

  “Mum, there’s a young lad here to see you by the name of Samuel Hunter. Said you would know him?”

  She was surprised to hear Samuel was here, and worried suddenly that something had happened at the shelter. “Yes, Martha. Please show him to the drawing room and I’ll be down momentarily. Could you also get us some tea and a bit of luncheon? Thank you.”

  Phoebe locked up her journal and made sure everything else was in order before heading downstairs, worry nagging her. Usually, if there was something needed at the shelter, they simply sent a note with one of the girls to Viridis.

  “Samuel? Is everything all right?” She walked to his side where he stood by the fire warming himself.

  “Yes, Mum. I had not meant to worry ye. Everything’s fine. I only came cause Mrs. Farthing got to thinking that with you being so busy with your theatre and your drinks, and then the shelter too, that you could do with a bit of help. Said I was to run any errands for ye, do what ye told me, and not make myself a nuisance. As long as that’s all right with ye. After you came alone to the shelter, I got to thinking that I could be there to accompany ye, and the like. So ye’d be safe. Ye wouldn’t have to pay me or anything of the sort, seeings I get what I need at the shelter.”

  Martha wheeled in the teacart, and Phoebe gestured for Samuel sit down and have a bite to eat. He ate like he hadn’t eaten in years, thanking her in between bites.

  Phoebe was more than a little confused at the offer or why Mrs. Farthing would be sending Samuel to her aid. “Samuel, I’m not sure I have any errands to keep you busy enough to keep you here on a regular basis. And as for accompanying me, I really don’t venture very far from the house or Viridis. Not that your help isn’t appreciated.”

  She saw the disappointment in his face, and it broke her heart. “I can do work around the house, too. Fix the place up for ye, seeings as I’m real handy like. And run out for your girls to get them anything they might need so as not to keep them from their work here.

  She shook her head. “I just don’t know, Samuel. There really—”

  “Please, Mum! Mrs. Farthing will be sorely disappointed if she finds out I’m not helping ye. Not to mention, she worries ‘bout ye something awful every time ye come to the shelter. Please? She can get down right stroppy if her wishes haven’t been met, and I’d hate to be on the receiving end of her tongue, if ye know my meaning.”

  She looked into his pleading puppy-dog eyes, and it tore at her heart to send him back to the shelter, knowing Mrs. Farthing could indeed be a tough mistress to please.

  “Fine then. We’ll give it a try for a week or two and see how it goes. I’ll have the girls get a room together for you in the servant’s quarters, though I’ll tell you now, I’ll not have you sniffing up their skirts in this house.”

  He looked appalled at the idea. “I would never, Mum!”

  “I’m not saying you would, Samuel. I just want to make myself clear.” She smiled at him.

  “Thank you, Mum! I’ll surely not disappoint.”

  Chapter Thirty Three

  William sat patiently with Niles’s accountant, a hunched and little man with spectacles perched precariously on the tip of his nose, as he went through his ledgers. Sunlight struggled to make its way through the filmed panes of glass, specs of dust dancing on the light, sent upward in flight by the turning of pages. Leather bound books lined every inch of wall, reminding William just how old this accounting firm was, if the ancient accountant sitting across from him hadn’t been evidence enough.

  The man tapped the ledger with a crooked bony finger. “I think I have it here. A deposit of one thousand pound Sterling on the tenth of January into the account of Lord Niles Hawthorne. May he rest in peace.”

  William sat forward a bit. “Does it say where the money came from? I would like to know if it was a cheque, and if so, I’d be most interested in who wrote it.”

  “Yes, of course. I have it here. It was a cheque from Archer Enterprises. I believe they have offices over on Murray Street, though I do not do regular business with them.”

  “Archer Enterprises? I don’t believe I’ve heard of them before.”

  “Shipping and trade. Several investors, I believe.”

  Sitting forward in his seat, William asked, “Could you tell me, were there any other deposits made into Lord Hawthorne’s accounts from Archer?”

  The old man flipped back through a few more pages, his eyes scanning left and right. He held onto a page while continuing to look through the remaining notations. “It appears there is only one other transaction made. Another cheque was deposited a month prior to the first, again in the amount of a thousand pound Sterling.”

  William jotted down the information in his book. “I wouldn’t suppose you know the investors involved with Archer?”

  The man looked up from his books, pushing his glasses back up his nose while giving the question some thought. “Well, I wouldn’t want to say for sure, but I believe the major investors are Lord Henry White, Lord James Marsden and Lord Victor Fenwick.”

  Chapter Thirty Four

  It must have been the day for unexpected visits, for Phoebe now found herself sitting across from William, stunned in disbelief. Her heart, pounding erratically, was the only thing keeping her anchored to her body. Her body felt as though it wasn’t her own, and the hands fidgeting with her napkin belonged to someone else. “I don’t know what to say. I cannot believe it.”

  Phoebe looked into the inspector’s eyes, not quite brown or hazel, but rather the unusual color of golden amber. He sighed, before saying, “I would not normally take personal interest in a case, but the situation may be dire, and Mr. Elliott has been a great help. His best chance of avoiding the charges is for you to press assault charges of your own. ”

  “I see.” She took a deep breath, her corset feeling far too tight. “Do you really think it will help?”

  William tilted his head in thought. “It cannot hurt, and would weigh heavily with the judge and jury.”

  “Is there no way to get Victor to drop the charges?” The thought of going through a trial with the very good chance of Seth being convicted of attempted murder left Phoebe sick to her stomach. “What if I speak to him?”

  William’s eyebrows shot up. “After what happened between you, I would not recommend it. You’ll pardon my saying so, but the man seems to have a temper, and quite frankly, I doubt it would do any good. Not when his pride’s been wounded.”

  “I’ll file a formal complaint if you think it will help, but is there nothing else we can do?”

  “We will see where things stand once you have pressed charges. You may have a bit more sway then. I’ll file that paperwork for you and keep you and Mr. Elliott updated.” He got up to go. “Good day to you, m’ lady.

  Good day indeed. Phoebe saw the inspector out, and went back to the sitting room, still stunned and sick with worry. Had she not asked Seth to leave it be?

  She felt a surge of heat flush her face, her anger taking hold as she poured herself a whisky with shaking hands. Her mind raced through all the possibilities. There was no avoiding the reality of the matter— she would need to speak to Victor and try to persuade him to drop the charges before this got into the courts. And the sooner the better. Once in the courts, Seth’s chances to avoid conviction would be slim to none,
since the jury would likely be made up of other members of nobility, who would not take kindly to one of their own being assaulted.

  Though the inspector might manage something, speaking to Victor seemed her best option, though she shuddered at the thought.

  She sipped at the whisky, the heat of it spreading through her body. Yet it did nothing to calm her jangling nerves or the nagging feeling of unease she couldn’t quite shake.

  “Curse you, Seth Elliott,” she murmured.

  Chapter Thirty Five

  Seth knocked on Phoebe’s door and got the shock of his life when Samuel answered. Pulling him outside, he hissed, “What the hell are you doing here? You were supposed to keep an eye on her without her knowing!”

  Samuel shrugged out of Seth’s grasp, his eyes darting between Seth and Gavin. “Aye! And that’s what I’m doing.”

  “Then what the hell are you doing inside her home?”

  Samuel pulled himself up, and cocked his head back, proud. “I’m her footman. If she needs anything, I take care of it for her.” Then leaning in with a wink, he said, “What better way to keep an eye on her, eh?”

  “And she’s not aware of our arrangement?”

  “Nah. Told her Mrs. Farthing sent me to help her.”

  “And what if she speaks to Mrs. Farthing? What then ye wee clotheid?” Seth was tempted to cuff his ear.

  “Then nothing. Mrs. Farthing thought it a great idea since m’ lady had been there not days earlier all on her own and with no one to watch her. And seeing as they’ve plenty of help at the shelter, she sent me off.”

  “Hmpf.” It would have to do. Not as if he had much choice in the matter now.