Wicked Pleasures

by Helen Dickson

  Grant could imagine the face behind the mask—the excitement of the fight would have put colour into her cheeks, a gleam in her eyes and a rosiness on her full lips. The image sent desire surging through him as foils rang together, meeting faster and faster as he forced her to a killing pace. Sweat now soaked her fine silk shirt so that it clung alluringly to her body, outlining the tender swell of her breasts.

  Adeline was beginning to weaken, finding herself held at bay by a superior strength. Grant knew this, and with a low chuckle doubled his agility. With a triumphant cry and a snakelike movement he slipped under her blade and decisively thrust home.

  Accepting that she was beaten, fair and square, Adeline whipped her mask from her laughing face. ‘So, Mr Leighton, you have made good your threat. No doubt you regret wasting your time on such a weak opponent?’

  ‘Nonsense. You were already considerably weakened by your earlier bout with Anthony,’ Grant remarked, removing his mask, thinking how truly adorable she looked in complete disarray.

  ‘You are too kind. There are no excuses for my defeat. I was beaten by a superior strength. I accept that.’

  ‘A master?’ he pressed, with a broad, arrogant smile.

  ‘You conceited beast. I refuse to flatter your vanity further.’

  Grant’s grin was wicked. ‘And you are magnanimous in defeat. I look forward to repeating the exercise.’

  ‘Next time you won’t be so lucky,’ she quipped, with a jaunty impudence Grant found utterly exhilarating.

  ‘I’m looking forward to it already. Who taught you to fence?’

  ‘Uncle Max—my mother’s brother. He was a military man and fought in the Crimean War. Sadly he died last year.’ She placed the rapiers in the cabinet and turned back to him, feeling extremely self-conscious in her trousers. ‘I must look a sight. I’ll go and change.’

  Lifting his gaze from the feminine curves of her breasts, slowly Grant let his eyes seek hers, and Adeline basked in the unconcealed admiration lighting his face. His amusement had vanished. An aura of anticipation surrounded them. It was blatantly sensual and keenly felt by Adeline. It widened her eyes and lingered in the curve of her lips.

  Grant’s own firm mouth curved in a sensuous smile. ‘Believe me, there’s nothing wrong with the way you look, Adeline,’ he murmured.

  Her senses heightened by his closeness, Adeline flushed and smiled tremulously, thinking how incredibly handsome he looked with his hair dipping over his forehead. ‘Not to you, maybe, but I cannot possibly sit down to lunch like this. Mrs Kelsall has objections enough to what she considers to be my unladylike attire, and will refuse to feed us unless I change.’

  He cocked a sleek black brow. ‘Us? Are you inviting me to luncheon, Adeline?’

  With an effort, Adeline tore her gaze from Grant’s amused grey eyes and looked in the direction of the door. ‘Yes—that is, if you like. It’s almost lunchtime anyway, and I’m sure you must be hungry after your exertions.’

  After showing him to the drawing room, Adeline escaped to her room to swill her burning face in cold water.

  Mrs Kelsall had laid a light lunch for them in the dining room. They took their seats opposite each other.

  ‘Please help yourself,’ Adeline said, indicating the various cold dishes. ‘I must try not to over-indulge, since I am going on a picnic this afternoon.’

  ‘A picnic?’

  ‘Yes.’ She laughed. ‘I enjoy idling away my days in frivolous pursuits. It’s such a lovely day I thought Emma and I would go for a drive along the Embankment and go on to the gardens at Chelsea.’

  They applied themselves to the food with unfeigned appreciation, and after commenting on the culinary delights they conversed little until the end of the meal.

  Adeline, used to dining in silence with her father, did not babble on, as other women were wont to do, and Grant found this a pleasurable change. There was nothing awkward about the silence, which was comfortable and agreeable. However, he was of the opinion that while women prattled on, they weren’t thinking, and when he glanced across at Adeline’s serene countenance he was curious as to her thoughts.

  Wearing a gown of ruby-coloured taffeta, unadorned and simple, with a well-fitted bodice, she had drawn her hair back from her face. Her almond-shaped eyes and high cheekbones gave her a rich, vivid and almost oriental beauty.

  When they had finished eating they retired to the drawing room, sitting across from each other in two large wing-backed chairs. Grant stared at Adeline’s profile as she turned her head slightly, tracing with his gaze the lines of her face, the brush of her thick eyelashes, the delicate hollow at the nape of her neck, where a stray strand of hair had come to rest, nestling against her pale skin like a dark red spiral.

  ‘Have you spoken to Lettie?’ Adeline asked, looking to where Grant was sitting silently watching her, holding her with his gaze.

  He shook his head. ‘Unfortunately I haven’t had the opportunity. I called on Lord and Lady Stanfield before coming here, but Lettie was out at one of her meetings, somewhere in Kensington. And you?’

  ‘No. Maybe later. What is it you wanted to see me about?’

  ‘I’ve made enquiries about Jack Cunningham.’

  ‘Oh? Have you found out much about him?’

  Grant nodded slowly, his expression grave. ‘It wasn’t difficult. He’s extremely well known, is Mr Cunningham—notorious, in fact—and steeped in vice. One thing I’ve learned is that he isn’t working for good causes—and you are right, he’s a dangerous individual. Apparently he isn’t one to meddle with, and no one crosses him twice.’ A grim smile twisted his lips. ‘I suppose if he is to succeed in the hard and dangerous trade he’s chosen then he needs to appear a man no one would dare cross.’

  ‘Where is he from?’

  ‘He was born in Whitechapel—one of nine children, father worked on the docks. He’s self-made, shrewd, aggressive, determined and unscrupulous, and he has power over a lot of people. He has friends—of a sort. Mostly there are those who hate him and those who are frightened of him—and those who are both. Women seem to like him, but he treats them badly. I suspect he wants Lettie because she stands for something he’s never had.’

  ‘And what is that?’

  ‘Class. He’s a powerful figure in the underworld, where he reigns over an empire of corruption and debauchery. Nothing is too scandalous to be tolerated. The Phoenix is a gambling and drinking den, and a house of assignation—prostitution. He derives handsome profits from its exploitation. In fact he’s made a lot of money out of his seedy nightclubs and brothels scattered all over the West End.’

  There was a good deal more that Grant could have told Adeline about Jack Cunningham—his involvement in the sex-trafficking of both women and children he purchased through a network of agents to install in his brothels. Grant considered this widespread victimisation of children an abomination, but he would not embarrass or distress Adeline by divulging this part of Cunningham’s sordid empire.

  ‘After visiting the place, somehow it doesn’t surprise me to hear that.’ Adeline shuddered at the memory.

  ‘Cunningham never soils his own hands with violence. Others do it for him—he has plenty of henchmen. He carries people in his head and moves them about like chess pieces. He also lends money at high interest rates—expending very little risk since for his investment he is careful to command property of a much higher value or favours as security. He’s used to getting what he wants, and if anyone opposes him he shows no mercy.’

  Adeline paled visibly, appalled by what she was hearing. ‘I can’t believe Lettie has got involved with somebody like that.’

  Grant looked at her sharply. ‘How did she meet him? Do you know?’

  ‘Yes. It was at the Drury Lane Theatre—Diana Waverly introduced them.’

  Grant stared at her, dumbfounded. For some reason this bothered him. ‘Diana knows Cunningham?’

  ‘Yes. As a matter of fact I believe she was at the Phoenix Club at the same ti
me that I was there with Lettie. I saw a woman disappearing up a spiral staircase. I was too late to see her face, but she was wearing the same dress yesterday at the hotel.’ Adeline was looking at Grant steadily, trying to measure the emotion lying behind the façade. ‘You—didn’t know Diana was associated with Cunningham?’

  ‘No.’ Grant felt oddly betrayed that Diana had never spoken to him of Cunningham—but then she had no reason to. Until Adeline had brought him to his attention he had never heard of him.

  ‘Well, if she is that is her affair. But he sounds a thoroughly bad lot.’

  ‘He is, Adeline, believe me. Lettie may be independent and twenty-three, but she is still innocent, trusting and unworldly to a man of his calibre. I intend to do everything in my power to put an end to his association with my sister—preferably without coming into contact with Jack Cunningham.’

  ‘That’s sensible. If he’s as obnoxious as you say he is then it could only lead to trouble. Best to let Lettie finish it quietly—although I hope she doesn’t love him so much she will stand against you in defence of him. Is Lettie anything like your other sister who lives in Ireland?’ Adeline asked, suddenly curious about Grant’s other siblings.

  ‘Anna?’ His expression lightened and his lips curved in a smile. ‘No. Not at all. Anna is mild-mannered, unselfish, genuinely kind-hearted and willing to take on everyone’s troubles. Mother hasn’t seen Anna and her family for eighteen months—since she went over for a visit—and naturally she’s excited about them coming for Christmas and an extended stay.’

  ‘I’m sure she is. I seem to recall her saying that your brother is also coming home for Christmas?’

  ‘That’s right. He’s coming home on leave for a few weeks. All his life Roland has wanted to be a soldier. He loves India, and no doubt he will go back there to his regiment when his leave is up.’ Grant stood up. ‘I’ve kept you long enough. You’ll be wanting to go on your picnic. I’ll call at Upper Belgrave Street and see if Lettie has returned.’

  Adeline went out into the hall with him, where they paused. ‘I do wish you every success with Lettie. Truly. I wish no harm to come to her at the hands of Jack Cunningham.’

  Grant looked at her earnest, upturned face. He felt humbled by her generosity of spirit and her compassion for Lettie. Her full mouth was soft and provocative, her shining eyes mesmerising in their lack of guile, and her smooth cheekbones were flushed a becoming pink. Courageous, unpretentious and unaffected, she sparkled from within and shone on the surface. She was, he decided, the most interesting female he had ever met. She was also becoming embarrassed by his scrutiny. Her long ebony lashes had flickered down to hide her eyes.

  Grant smiled, his grey eyes glinting with admiration. ‘Nor do I.’

  ‘I—enjoyed fencing with you,’ Adeline said, suddenly nervous, self-conscious, trying desperately to sound normal. ‘The exercise was good, and I can’t tell you how good it was to fence with such an expert as yourself. I rarely get the opportunity. I—don’t know how to thank you.’

  His heavy-lidded gaze fixed meaningfully on her lips. ‘We’ll have to think of a way,’ he murmured softly.

  At that moment Mrs Kelsall bustled into the hall, her face in subdued lines. ‘What is it, Mrs Kelsall? Has something happened?’

  ‘No, Miss Adeline. Your picnic basket is all prepared, but Emma isn’t feeling too well and doesn’t think she’s up to going out.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. She was complaining of a headache earlier. I’ll go to her.’ Adeline was clearly concerned about her maid. She turned to Grant and smiled weakly. ‘It looks as though my picnic will have to keep for another day.’

  A sudden gleam entered his eyes. ‘It needn’t. Perhaps you would allow me to accompany you?’

  Silver-grey eyes met hers, and she felt her cheeks warm. ‘Oh—I couldn’t possibly. I couldn’t impose on your time.’

  His smile broadened into a grin. ‘It’s no imposition. I have a totally free day.’

  ‘But you don’t enjoy picnics.’

  He arched one dark brow. ‘I don’t?’

  ‘Well—I wouldn’t have thought you were the type that did.’

  ‘I happen to love picnics.’

  ‘You do?’

  ‘Absolutely. Just make sure there’s a bottle of wine in the basket.’

  ‘I’ll go and put one in this minute.’ Mrs Kelsall was quick to oblige, happy that all the work she’d put into the basket wouldn’t be wasted after all.

  ‘You really don’t have to do this,’ Adeline said to Grant, protesting even while unable to quell the stirring of pleasure his offer aroused.

  ‘I want to. I promise I shall be a capable and attentive escort—and besides…’

  ‘Besides, what?’

  ‘It would be a shame to waste the food.’

  ‘But I thought you were going to see Lettie?’

  ‘I shall call on her later—there will be more chance of catching her then.’

  Adeline searched his bold, swarthy visage, unsurprised by his nerve. ‘Your persistence amazes me. I shouldn’t be going anywhere with you on my own.’

  He chuckled, smiling a wicked smile. ‘Why not? We might both enjoy the outing. I favour your company, Adeline, and I shall endeavour to be on my best behaviour and as charming as my nature will allow.’

  Adeline looked at him with doubt. ‘We shall see. It should prove to be an interesting afternoon.’

  ‘It will be what we make it. Now, go and get ready.’

  Seated across from Grant in the Osborne landau, with its grey upholstery and the hood down, Adeline experienced a strange exhilaration. She felt wonderfully, gloriously alive for the first time in years as she instructed the driver to take them to the Embankment. There was something undeniably engaging about her handsome escort. He made her feel alert and curiously stimulated.

  ‘You look exceptional, Adeline,’ he told her. ‘Radiant, in fact. I am honoured by this privilege.’

  Adeline smoothed her dark green woollen skirt, knowing it became her extraordinarily well. She wore a fitted three-quarter-length matching coat and hat, which was adorned with small brown feathers. The ensemble combined rich, stylish flair and good taste.

  ‘I am often in London, and I really can’t name a sight that I haven’t seen. Is there anywhere else you would rather go than the Embankment?’ she asked Grant.

  ‘I am at your disposal entirely. The Embankment suits me perfectly well.’

  On reaching the Embankment they left the landau, and with a slight breeze in their faces strolled along. The early autumn day was overcast, but it was warm. People strolled along, like themselves, and open carriages passed by, with women showing off the latest fashions. Street peddlers were selling various kinds of food, from drinks and pies to sweets, and further along a brass band competed with a hurdy-gurdy playing a popular dance tune.

  The dancing silvered river was busy with shipping of every kind—ferries, lighter men and a string of barges—making their way steadily upstream, the movement keeping the waters constantly on the swell. There were sounds of laughter from the pleasure boats crowded with people enjoying themselves. A woman’s hat blew off into the river, causing much hilarity. Some waved to the people watching from the Embankment, and with laughter on her lips Adeline waved back.

  Grant looked at her, thinking how adorable she was with her pink cheeks and shining eyes. She put him in mind of a child opening its presents at Christmas. ‘Enjoying yourself?’

  ‘I am. I love the Embankment, and today is just like London should be.’ She turned towards the river. ‘Can you smell it?’

  ‘Smell what?’

  ‘The salt on the incoming tide.’

  Breathing deep, Grant could detect a tang in the air—the smell of salt and what he thought might be tar.

  For a while they were both engrossed with the scene before them, then they walked back to the landau to continue on their way to Chelsea. Reaching their destination, they told the driver to retu
rn to Eaton Place. They would take a cab when it was time to return.

  Carrying the picnic basket, and a rug over one arm, Grant gallantly presented his other arm to Adeline, at the same time catching her hand and pulling it through the crook of his elbow, not giving her a chance to deny him. Adeline was tempted to withdraw from his contact, but a small, naughty part of her knew she liked touching him. Very much.

  The gardens overlooking the river were mostly for summer strolls and musical entertainments, and the quietness of the autumn day could not be denied. The wind was fresh, but reasonably warm, rustling the dying leaves in the trees and dappling the shade, and Adeline was content to let her escort lead her along the tree-lined lanes and past beds of the last of the summer’s flowers. As promised, Grant lent himself to a most gentlemanly comportment and treated her with polite consideration, making her feel as if she were the only woman in the world.

  Finding a secluded spot beneath the giant trees, Adeline spread out the rug while Grant removed his jacket, opened the basket and poured the wine. Totally relaxed, they talked about little things—oddities of fact that made simple things interesting. They told stories and joked and laughed at each other, and all the while Adeline was aware of Grant’s appreciative gaze on her animated face. In all it proved to be a most enchanting afternoon, and Adeline experienced a twinge of regret that it would have to end.

  Stretching out on his side, Grant leaned on a forearm and studied her profile from beneath hooded lids, wondering for the hundredth time what went on behind her placid exterior. ‘You are a strange young woman, Adeline,’ he murmured, focusing his eyes on a wisp of hair against her cheek.

  Without thinking, he reached out and tucked it behind her ear, feeling the velvety softness of her skin against his fingers. She sat still as he ran the tip of his finger down the column of her throat, along the line of her chin to her collar and the cameo brooch at her throat.

  ‘Suddenly I find myself wanting to know everything there is to know about you—what you are thinking, what you are feeling. You are still a mystery to me.’