Tall, Dark and Royal

by Vanessa Kelly

  TALL, DARK, AND ROYAL

  She stared at him, her body straight and unmoving, her face pale and still. But her eyes blazed almost golden in the firelight that washed over her. “Is that what you want, Dominic? To cherish me?” Her voice was a sweet mix of uncertainty and longing that arrowed straight into his heart.

  “I’ve never stopped loving you,” he rasped. “And that will never change. But now I want more. I want what any man wants from the woman he loves.”

  The muscles in her throat rippled as she swallowed. The tense, high set to her shoulders reminded him of how difficult this must be for her.

  “I know you’re afraid,” he said gently. “Afraid of opening yourself up to another man after everything you’ve been through—”

  He broke off, stunned by her sudden, dazzling smile. She slipped from her chair and came to her knees before him, resting her hands on his thighs.

  “Dominic, do shut up,” she ordered in a gruff little voice. “And after you’ve done that, please kiss me.”

  Books by Vanessa Kelly

  MASTERING THE MARQUESS

  SEX AND THE SINGLE EARL

  MY FAVORITE COUNTESS

  HIS MISTLETOE BRIDE

  SECRETS FOR SEDUCING A ROYAL BODYGUARD

  CONFESSIONS OF A ROYAL BRIDEGROOM

  HOW TO PLAN A WEDDING FOR A ROYAL SPY

  AN INVITATION TO SIN

  (with Jo Beverley, Sally MacKenzie, and Kaitlin O’Riley)

  Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation

  TALL, DARK, And ROYAL

  VANESSA KELLY

  ZEBRA BOOKS

  KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

  http://www.kensingtonbooks.com

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  TALL, DARK, AND ROYAL

  Books by Vanessa Kelly

  Title Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Epilogue

  Dear Reader,

  HOW TO PLAN A WEDDING FOR A ROYAL SPY,

  Copyright Page

  Chapter One

  Village of Camberwell

  April 1815

  Dominic Hunter wheeled his curricle between the iron-mounted gates that bracketed the forecourt of the handsome Jacobean manor house. Peter, his groom, leapt down before the carriage came to a full stop at the portico.

  “Stable the horses,” Dominic ordered. “I don’t know how long I’ll be staying.”

  “Aye, Sir Dominic. I’ll give ’em a rubdown myself.”

  Dominic had crammed the horses more than he normally would on the busy road from London to Camberwell because the message he’d received this morning had made him break out in a cold sweat.

  Chloe is in need of your assistance. She claims to be fine, but I think it best you come immediately.

  —Griffin Steele

  How typical of Griffin to refer to his mother by her given name, as typical as his lamentably terse note. But Griffin would never summon Dominic unless the situation called for it, which meant things were far from fine.

  The fact that it was Griffin rather than Chloe asking for his help was an added irritant. After her dramatic and emotional reappearance two months ago, Chloe had subsequently adopted a calm, carefully polite manner to keep Dominic at bay. She’d spent the long years of their separation building walls around her heart, walls she seemed reluctant to dismantle. Dominic understood better than anyone the wounds Chloe had suffered. Any reasonable man would give her the time she needed to adjust to the momentous change in her circumstances. After all, for years, Dominic and Griffin had feared she was dead. To have her suddenly back in their lives was a shock for all of them.

  Still, when it came to Chloe, Dominic was anything but reasonable. He wanted to blast through the barriers to reach the sweet, innocent girl he’d loved, the girl he’d spent fourteen long years searching for. That Chloe was still sweet was undeniable, and her innocent and loving heart burned bright and true as the North Star. But layered over those gentle qualities was a wary approach to life that spoke of abuse and pain and exposure to an uncaring world. Every time Dominic saw Chloe’s gaze turn inward, her fawn-colored eyes growing dark with quiet desolation, he wanted to tear something—or someone—apart.

  He was one of the most powerful men in England, but in the face of Chloe’s pain he felt utterly helpless.

  Hill, Chloe’s butler, opened the door at Dominic’s knock and ushered him into the old-fashioned entrance hall.

  “You’re expected, Sir Dominic.” Concern lent Hill’s aging, narrowed features a sharp look. “Mrs. Piper and Mr. and Mrs. Steele are waiting in the back drawing room.”

  Although Chloe’s true name was Steele, she’d been living in Camberwell for years as Mrs. Piper, a wealthy but reclusive widow from Northumberland. She’d maintained that fictitious persona with rigorous discipline. It had prevented even Dominic, with the resources of the Intelligence Service at his disposal, from finding her. It baffled him why Chloe had chosen to hide when she must have known he’d do anything for her, make any sacrifice necessary to protect her. All she would say was that she’d been convinced everyone thought her dead, and she’d believed her sudden reappearance in their lives would be too disruptive.

  It was the most absurd thing he’d ever heard. And he was beginning to suspect she’d convinced herself that she was more a burden than a blessing in their lives, and that her past would bring her son and her friends nothing but shame and disgrace.

  “How is she?” Dominic asked.

  The butler grimaced. “Mrs. Piper is being obstinate, I’m sorry to say. Told me I was an old hen to carry on so.”

  Dominic wasn’t surprised by Hill’s blunt speech. The man was more than Chloe’s butler—he was a trusted confidant and had for years been providing discreet assistance in her sometimes dangerous charitable work. Dominic suspected he provided another kind of support, too, standing in for the father she’d lost a long time ago.

  “I suppose if she can gripe at you, then she’s not in too bad a shape,” Dominic said cautiously.

  “You don’t know Mrs. Piper,” Hill muttered.

  And that was the problem, wasn’t it? Dominic was afraid he didn’t know Chloe anymore. He didn’t know what she wanted and, more importantly, what she needed from him.

  He followed Hill along the low-ceiled hallway of the old house, taking in the quiet. On most days when Dominic came to call, at least three or four of the girls would be rambling noisily about or taking lessons with Chloe. There were also two young women who’d recently given birth, finding shelter under Chloe’s generous protection.

  All told, there were currently seven girls at the manor, all either pregnant or with infants. Every single one had been abandoned by her family or forced away until after the pregnancy. Through word of mouth or the help of a mutual friend, they had found their way to the refuge of Chloe’s house in the countryside.

  But today, tension held the unnaturally quiet house in its grip, as if something violent had fractured the security Chloe provided for her charges.

  When Hill opened the door at the end of the hall, Dominic strode through but came to a sudden halt, his heart jolting at the sight of Chloe reclining on a chaise with a bandage wrapped around her head. Justine Steele, Dominic’s godchild, sat next to her holding a teacup. Lounging in a nearby armchair was Griffin Steele, Chloe’s son and Justine’s husband.

  “What the hell is going on here?” Dominic snapped. He glared at Griffin, who had a knack for finding or, indeed, creating trou
ble. “How did your mother get hurt?”

  Griffin let out a dramatic sigh as he came to his feet. “You have a lamentable tendency to blame me for everything, Dominic. I had nothing to do with Mother’s, er, little accident.”

  Chloe threw aside her lap robe and stood. “Dominic, I’m fine. There’s nothing for you to worry about.”

  But when she wobbled, Justine had to make a grab for her. In an instant, Dominic was by Chloe’s side. “For God’s sake, sit down.” He gently lowered her back to the chaise.

  Her tall, slender body felt fragile in his hands, as if the merest touch could break her. But appearances were deceptive. For all her pale, delicate beauty, Chloe had a strong will and character that had withstood years of tribulation.

  “You know the doctor told you to stay off your feet and rest,” Justine affectionately scolded.

  “I’m not sure how she’s supposed to rest with you lot fussing over her,” Griffin said. “Hill has been popping in and out like a character from a farce, not to mention all the girls sneaking in. It’s a bloody circus.”

  Justine frowned at her husband. “They’re worried about Chloe.”

  Dominic throttled back his impulse to snap. “I would be most grateful if someone—anyone—would answer my question. Wait,” he said to Justine. “First, tell me what the physician said.”

  “Perhaps you might try asking Chloe, Sir Dominic,” Chloe said with pointed courtesy. “As you can see, she is perfectly capable of speech.”

  Dominic mentally winced. Chloe only used his title when annoyed with him. “I’m sorry, my dear. But it was a shock to come upon you looking like you’d been set upon by thieves.”

  Thankfully, she flashed him a wry, forgiving smile. “Apology accepted.” She shifted her legs and patted the seat of the chaise. “Sit down and let Justine get you a cup of tea while I tell you all about it. Not that I wanted to drag you into this ridiculous and unfortunate episode, but my son insisted. Who knew Griffin could fuss and worry as much as any old maid?”

  Her son—one of the most ruthless and powerful men in London—rolled his eyes but declined to defend himself.

  “What happened to your head?” Dominic eyed the bandage wrapped around her brow.

  “I bumped it, that’s all,” Chloe replied. “The doctor insisted I wear this silly thing and my son won’t let me take it off.”

  Griffin narrowed his dark gaze on his mother. “You didn’t bump your head. It was bumped for you when that bloody bastard shoved you into the wall. And you will keep that bandage on for as long as is required.”

  Dominic had been reaching to accept a cup from Justine, but his hand froze in midair. Slowly, he turned to Chloe. “Someone shoved you?”

  Chloe’s shoulders unconsciously hiked up a notch. “Yes, but it wasn’t a very hard shove. Truly, I’m fine.”

  Dominic could hear Griffin grinding his teeth from several feet away. He sympathized, but the situation was confusing enough without him losing his temper, at least not until he’d apprised himself of the facts.

  But once he tracked down the man who had dared to touch Chloe, the bastard would rue the day he was born.

  “What did the doctor say?” he asked quietly, taking her long, slim fingers in his. Chloe was a lady to the tips of her toes, but her hands bore one or two faint scars and the marks of kitchen burns. As he’d come to learn, she’d worked hard over the years, first as a nurse and companion to an elderly woman, and then in running her large household. She’d been born into a genteel existence, but fate had decreed another type of life for her, and she was not a woman to shirk either work or responsibility.

  Chloe gave his fingers a comforting squeeze but then carefully withdrew her hand. Dominic’s heart twinged at the subtle distance she insisted on placing between them.

  “You’re not to worry.” Her voice held a soft, comforting quality that reminded him of simpler times. Dominic’s life had never been simple, but Chloe had always made it seem easy and uncomplicated. “It’s a nasty little bump, but I felt only a momentary dizziness, more from shock than anything else. The doctor simply wants me to keep a cold compress on my head to take down the swelling.”

  Dominic gently pressed two fingers along her finely carved jaw, turning her head slightly to examine the compress. Her skin was as soft as the inside of a rose petal, and he had to smother the urge to stroke her slim throat and white shoulder. Chloe was a year or so past her fortieth year, but her skin was still silky and unblemished by time.

  One of her hands fluttered up to touch his shoulder before retreating. “Dominic, truly, there is no cause for concern, at least not about my silly head.”

  “I’m relieved to hear it, but clearly something is cause for concern, yes?”

  Her lips pressed into a taut line, evidence of her unwillingness to answer him.

  “Yes,” Griffin interjected in a loud voice. “There is a great deal to be concerned about, and if Chloe insists on being so damned stubborn, then I’ll get on with it.”

  “Really, my son, such language,” Chloe huffed. “Whatever will Dominic think?”

  Griffin let out a snort of disbelieving laughter, and even Justine couldn’t hold back a smile.

  “I know what Dominic thinks of me,” Griffin said dryly, “since he’s made his views amply clear over the years. Although since I’ve married Justine his carping has diminished.”

  “I never carp,” Dominic said, “I merely suggest. Now, I suggest you all stop trying to divert my attention and tell me what’s going on.”

  Chloe sighed. “Very well, I’ll tell you. As you have no doubt surmised, I had an unwelcome visitor this morning. He was the former fiancé of one of my girls.”

  Dominic raised a surprised brow. Chloe had gone out of her way to keep the nature of her work secure from prying eyes. Privacy was the reason she’d moved to Camberwell in the first place and had selected a manor house on a secluded country lane outside the village. The girls who came to her had an urgent need for secrecy in their desire to avoid scandal. They rarely left the manor’s grounds and the house received few visitors. After the girls gave birth, Chloe found good families or sometimes relations of the girls to take the infants. That allowed the unfortunate mothers to return to their former lives, largely untainted by scandal.

  It was a kindness denied to Chloe herself after the birth of Griffin.

  “How did this man find you?” Dominic asked. “Did the girl you’re sheltering tell him where she was staying?”

  Chloe shook her head, then winced and carefully patted her bandage before answering. “No, Jane’s terrified of Roger. It’s one of the reasons she came to me. She broke off her engagement last month when he started to beat her. Fortunately, a family friend—my dressmaker, by a happy coincidence—was able to put Jane’s parents in touch with me. She’s been in my care for three weeks and has had no contact with the young man.”

  “You’re sure of that?” Dominic asked. “Despite the abuse, young women sometimes manage to convince themselves the situation will improve. Might not Jane have sent him a message and be reluctant to tell you?”

  Chloe’s eyebrows went up on a delicate slant, as if she couldn’t believe Dominic would question her conclusion. If he hadn’t been so damn worried, he would have been tempted to laugh at her imperious glare.

  “Some of them have little choice in the matter,” Chloe retorted. “Most girls in Jane’s condition have few options for survival.”

  “I know,” Dominic said quietly. “Given that such is the case—”

  “Such is not the case with Jane. Her family loves her and would keep her at home if they could. But we agreed it was safer for Jane to stay with me.”

  Griffin stirred. “How he found the place is a mystery, but let’s put that aside for now. The point is, the swine not only found out where Jane was staying, he managed to get himself through the front door.”

  Chloe looked troubled. “Yes, that was unexpected. It’s never happened before.”

 
; Dominic, Griffin, and Justine exchanged incredulous glances. Almost the exact same thing had happened only a few months earlier, when a group of thugs invaded Chloe’s household to kidnap little Stephen, a baby under her care. That terrifying incident had forced Chloe out of hiding in order to ask for Griffin’s and Dominic’s help.

  “Really, Mother?” Griffin asked with disbelief.

  Chloe flapped her hand at him. “That situation was completely different.”

  “It sounds alarmingly similar,” Dominic said. “I thought you’d improved your security since that particular breach.”

  “I have,” Chloe said impatiently. “I hired the groom you recommended, and Hill’s nephew has also started working for me. But Roger came alone, so I didn’t perceive there to be a threat. We refused to let him see Jane, of course, despite his protestations. I tried to explain the situation to him, but he was immune to rational discourse.”

  “Did you confront him alone?” Dominic asked.

  Again, he saw the slight hitch in her shoulders. “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “Because he was dangerous?” he replied with heavy sarcasm. At the moment, sarcasm was his only refuge against the frustration pulling at him. His observations over the last few months suggested that Chloe sometimes lacked a sufficient sense of self-preservation in her determination to protect her charges.

  “I suppose I did miscalculate that,” she admitted. “But as I said, he didn’t initially seem threatening. Hill was right outside the door and my staff were within shouting distance.” She shook her head, clearly exasperated with herself. “How could I anticipate that Roger would be so foolish as to pull a pistol on me in my own house?”

  Dominic carefully placed the delicate Spode teacup and saucer on the table beside him. “He pulled a pistol on you?” He managed to keep his voice low and steady, even though he imagined the top of his head was steaming like an erupting volcano.