Lord Sinister (Secrets & Scandals Book 3)

by Tiffany Green

  After two swift losses, Nicholas chuckled and insisted he go check on Amelia. An excellent idea, Julian thought as he crept closer to the bed.

  And found it empty.

  He glanced around the dim chamber, his worry mounting, until he found her sitting in the wide window seat gazing down at the ice-covered garden below. “You are supposed to be sleeping,” he stated as he approached.

  He watched the corner of her mouth spring up. “And you are supposed to be playing chess with Nicholas.”

  Settling on the tuft cushion behind her, he slid his legs around her and brought her back against his chest. She rested against him with a sigh, allowing her head to fall against his shoulder. Carefully, he settled his hands over her swollen belly, but jerked back when something tapped his right palm.

  Amelia chuckled and led his hand back. “It’s all right. That was the baby greeting you.”

  “He does that a lot?” Julian put his hand back.

  “Yes, she does.”

  “You think it’s a girl?” He felt more taps and grinned.

  “I think so.”

  He moved his hand in slow circles. “Why do you believe it’s a girl?”

  She shrugged. “Just feels different than when I carried Alex.”

  Julian’s hand stilled momentarily, regret once again searing his conscious. He cleared his throat. “It’s strange that you named him Alexander. That’s my middle name.”

  There was a brief pause. “I know. That’s why I named him that.”

  He slid his eyes shut. “Oh, God, Amelia. What I did…”

  She rose up and turned to face him, placing a finger across his lips. “Shhh, Julian, it’s all right.”

  With a shaky breath, he opened his eyes to tell her it wasn’t all right. That he felt horrible every time he thought about what he did to her and Alex. But he didn’t have the opportunity. Amelia did the most amazing thing. She leaned forward and placed her lips over his.

  Stunned, he just sat there a minute. Then his body stirred to life and a slow burn spread all over his flesh. But he would not reach for her, afraid that if he did, he would rip off her clothes and pull her under him like some barbarian.

  Her mouth was soft and sweet. Then she moved closer, her hands settling on his shoulders. “Put your arms around me, Julian,” she said against his lips.

  He swallowed and sweat accumulated on his forehead, but he raised his arms and folded them around her. God, give him strength, he chanted inwardly, feeling her lush breasts pressed into his chest. But as she altered the kiss from timid to bold, startling him, sapping the strength from his self-control, his chants turned to urgent pleas.

  While their tongues dueled an erotic dance, Amelia’s hands lowered to his shirt, working the buttons free. Then she had her hands all over his bare skin, driving him mad with need.

  Although he could hardly bear it, he pulled back while he still could. Breathing ragged gulps of air, he managed to speak. “We…can’t…”

  She seemed to understand. “It will be fine for a while yet.”

  “You’re certain?” he asked, gritting his teeth against the desire to reach for her.

  Her eyes, dark and soft with passion, crinkled at the corners. “I am certain.” Then she reached up and removed the pins from her hair, allowing the silky tresses to fall down over her shoulders in rich chestnut waves.

  Julian reached up and threaded his fingers through the softness. Then he pulled her into his arms and rose to his feet in one fluid motion. Amelia laughed, the light, melodious sound bringing a smile to his lips, and he brought her to the bed. He began to undress her, wishing for more light. He wanted to see every glorious inch of her.

  When just her chemise remained, she shook her head. “Leave it on.” Uncertainty glimmered in her eyes.

  “Let me see all of you, Amelia.” When she shook her head again, he cupped her cheek in his hand. “It will be all right.”

  She kept her eyes locked on his for several seconds, until the uncertainty melted into trust. Taking a deep breath, she gave a slight nod, relaxing.

  Julian swallowed when she lay naked before him. “Why were you afraid to let me see you?” he asked. “You’re beautiful.” And he meant it. The roundness added lushness to her small frame, and he hoped she’d keep some of the weight on after the baby’s arrival.

  “Are you certain?” There was a quiver of doubt in her voice.

  He took her hand and pressed it against his stony shaft. “Do not doubt it.”

  Her face once again flushed with passion and she smiled a temptress’s leer. “Then remove your clothes, my lord.”

  “You beguiling wench,” he said, shucking the shirt from his shoulders.

  CHAPTER 28

  “Thank God Napoleon wasn’t gifted with your strategic mind, darling, else he would be emperor of the entire world right now.”

  Amelia heard Nicholas’s comment as she entered the room. She watched him start to move a chess piece, return it, then move another. Her eyes shifted to Megan sitting across from him. Amelia grinned. Her sister-in-law moved her rook. “Check.”

  Nicholas rubbed the back of his neck, looking cross. “Damn.”

  “Amelia,” Megan said when she glanced up, “do come in.”

  “I wouldn’t like to interrupt.” She swallowed back a smile.

  “Please do,” Nicholas stated as he rose from his seat. “Would you happen to know how to play chess?”

  “It’s been a while.” Amelia moved forward and turned to Megan. “Thank you for the gowns. They’re lovely.” Her hand brushed the front of the peacock blue velvet. Her first thought had been to refuse the expensive gifts, but Julian insisted she keep them. He explained that Megan had no further use of them since they’d been made during her pregnancy.

  Her sister-in-law grinned. “You’re welcome to them since I can no longer wear them.”

  Amelia stepped forward. “I also have a favor to ask.” She gripped her hands together, uncomfortable with making the request.

  Megan rose from her chair, her expression eager to help. “What is it?”

  “Christmas is just a few days away…”

  “And you have no gifts,” Megan finished with an understanding smile.

  Amelia blew out a breath. “That’s it exactly.”

  “Then we shall go remedy that right now with a trip into the village.” Megan turned and reached for the pull.

  “Does that mean you’re forfeiting the game?” Nicholas looked hopeful.

  “Not on your life, my love,” Megan said with a cheeky grin.

  As Amelia turned to follow Megan from the room, she halted beside Nicholas. “You’ll have to give up your queen, Your Grace, but that will set a trap for hers,” she whispered with a wink.

  He turned to the board, then back to her, a wide smile appearing across his lips. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome,” she said over her shoulder as she left the room.

  “Julian won’t mind that I’m charging this to his account?” Amelia asked worriedly two hours later.

  Megan waved her hand, shaking her head. “Not at all.” She picked up a silky piece of ivory fabric. “Besides, that’s what a wife is supposed to do.”

  “What? Spend her husband’s money?”

  “Of course.”

  She turned to Megan and they both laughed together.

  Walking to the front of the store, Amelia placed the items she had picked out on the counter. She took a final glance around, hoping she hadn’t left anyone out, when she noticed a man standing before the large glass window, looking in. Her eyes locked on his for just an instant before he turned and scurried away.

  Amelia began to tremble. She thought she recognized those eyes, but couldn’t quite place the man. Then she became aware of someone behind the counter speaking to her. “Are you all right, my lady?”

  Megan moved to her side, her brows drawn in concern. “Amelia? What is it?”

  She continued to stare at the empty window for
several seconds, then turned. “I thought I saw someone.” Her words sounded weak and raspy.

  “Who?” Megan asked, glancing to the window and back.

  “I-I’m not sure.” She licked her dry lips. “I think someone was watching me.”

  Megan smiled, placing a hand on her arm. “Don’t worry. Julian and my father have an army protecting us. I am certain the man you saw was one of them.”

  “Because of the shooting?”

  Her sister-in-law nodded somberly.

  Amelia felt ill of a sudden. Someone out there had tried to murder her husband. And that someone had not been caught. She gripped the counter, swaying a bit.

  “Amelia? Dear God, you’ve lost all color. Do you feel like you’re going to swoon?” Without waiting for a reply, Megan turned to the man watching anxiously behind the counter. “A chair and some tea, Mr. March, if you please.”

  Within seconds, Amelia had been settled on a chair with a tepid cup of tea in her hands. She gulped some of the weak brew, shaking her head when Mr. March asked if she wanted more. Feeling much more the thing, she glanced up to her worried sister-in-law. “I’m all right. Truly.”

  Megan shook her head. “You stay put for a little longer, at least until the color returns to your cheeks.”

  Amelia nodded, listening with only half an ear. Her eyes strayed once again to the window. She couldn’t shake the feeling she had seen that man somewhere before. And then she thought of Megan’s words. Of course. If he worked for Julian or Joseph, she undoubtedly had seen him at Kenbrook.

  Relieved that she had found the answer to the man’s identity, she rose to her feet. “I’m much better. Can we please leave now?”

  On the way to the coach, Amelia glanced around, trying to locate the man. Besides the driver and two Kenbrook footmen, a dozen other men on horses surrounded the vehicle. She squinted at their faces, but couldn’t get a proper look.

  Waiving away her foolishness, Amelia entered the plush interior of the coach, certain one of them had to be the man.

  The comfortable ride back to Kenbrook took an hour. She would have enjoyed the journey even more if her worried sister-in-law hadn’t kept inquiring if she were all right every three minutes.

  “You’re sure nothing hurts, Amelia?” Megan asked just as the coach’s bell tinkered their arrival. “I can summon Dr. Benson.”

  Amelia shook her head. “All is well.”

  The coach rolled to a smooth stop and the door opened. A footman appeared, bowed, then held his hand out. With a smile, Amelia held on and moved carefully down the iron steps. As she turned to wait for Megan, she noticed another vehicle in the drive, a shabby little coach that looked out of place before the regal mansion.

  Megan appeared at her side, frowning at the unsightly thing.

  “Your parents have company?”

  “I have no idea,” her sister-in-law said. Then she took Amelia by the arm. “Come, let us have some tea.”

  Julian slammed his fist down on the table before the inspector. “No,” he roared.

  “My lord—”

  “No!” A searing rage rose up from the depths of his soul. He shot to his feet. “That will be all, inspector.”

  His father rose also and rounded the desk to stand beside him. “I agree, Inspector Hastings. You should leave here.”

  The smaller man rose, facing the two of them bravely. “Your Grace,” he turned, his dark eyes determined; “my lord, I have a duty to uphold.”

  Julian took a step. He halted when he felt his father’s restraining grip on his shoulder. “You are not taking my wife anywhere,” he spoke through gritted teeth. “She is with child and must not be unsettled.”

  “Inspector,” Nicholas stated as he rose from the sofa and moved toward them. “Lady Amersleigh is not the shooter. Julian admitted to that with his own lips. You should be directing your energy at finding the man who pulled the trigger. Not at the genteel lady falsely condemned.”

  “We have a signed admission,” the inspector said in protest.

  “To protect her son, whom she thought guilty at the time,” Nicholas said before Julian could rage a reply at the man.

  “Who is innocent as well?” Inspector Hastings lifted his dark brows several inches.

  “Of course he’s innocent,” Julian stated, his fists clenched at his sides. “It was a man, full grown. I’ve told you this.”

  “Then what, specifically, did he look like? Hair color? Eye color? What was he wearing?” The inspector spouted questions in impatient succession.

  Julian took a step forward. His face felt scorching hot from trying to control his anger. “I saw an outline only before the shot was fired.”

  “Was it possibly the outline of Jackson Townsend?”

  Julian didn’t know how to respond to that. He could not honestly deny the possibility, even though Megan vehemently denied it. He stood speechless for several seconds.

  The inspector reached into his pocket and withdrew a sheaf of papers. He read silently for a moment then glanced up. “You indicated last June that you found your wife speaking to Lord Townsend just prior to him leaving the park and you being shot at.”

  “Yes, but we’ve learned it was Lord Clifton who—”

  “That isn’t my point, my lord,” Hastings said, waving his hand. “Your wife’s meeting with the Black Heart, your testimony that he was there, is my point.”

  Julian leaned forward as much as his father’s restraining hand would allow. He didn’t like the implication the inspector wove in between his words. “Get out.”

  “Inspector, you are out of line with this interrogation,” his father said with finality. “Now leave.”

  The man hesitated slightly. “Your Grace,” gone was the angry edge from his voice, “the law is specific about giving false testimony, as well as fleeing captivity, but those things could be overlooked.”

  “Then why aren’t you overlooking them?”

  Hastings swallowed. “I have the deposition of Captain Elliott who witnessed Lady Amersleigh’s removal from his ship.” Sweat glistened on the man’s forehead. “I have also learned that Lady Amersleigh and Jackson Townsend were neighbors and good friends at one time.”

  “Your words amount to nothing, Hastings,” Julian said with clenched teeth when he realized what the inspector was getting at. “Get out.”

  The inspector shoved the papers back into his pocket. “As you wish. But I shall return.”

  When the door closed behind the man, Julian marched to the fireplace, shaking his head. “This just keeps getting worse and worse.”

  “Any word from Porter?” his brother-in-law asked, pressing a whiskey into his hand.

  Julian gulped down the strong drink and shook his head. “He hasn’t been able to find a single trace of the man who shot me.”

  There was a pause, then Nicholas said, “He will, Julian. He will.”

  Amelia handed her cloak to the butler when a man, who rather resembled a ferret, halted before her. “Lady Amersleigh?”

  “Yes.”

  He gave a slight bow. “I am Inspector Hastings, might I have just a moment of your time?”

  “Yes, of course,” she said as Megan entered, giving the inspector a quizzical glance.

  He turned and bowed to Megan. “Inspector Hastings, Your Grace.”

  Her eyes widened. “Have you found him?”

  “Who?” he asked, confounded.

  Megan gave him a sour look. “The man who shot my brother?”

  His dark eyes slid to Amelia. “We’re working on it.” He turned. “Now, Lady Amersleigh, I promise not to take up too much of your time.”

  She led them into the drawing room, Megan following.

  “I must needs a word alone with Lady Amersleigh, if you please, Your Grace.”

  As Megan looked to argue, Amelia stepped forward. “It’s all right. Give Jordan a kiss from me when you check on him.”

  Reluctantly, her sister-in-law left.

  The inspector rem
oved some papers from his pocket and flipped through a few pages.

  “Would you care for some tea?” she asked.

  He glanced up. “Thank you, no.” He continued reading.

  A nagging little pain had settled in Amelia’s lower back. She gave the sofa a longing look. “If you don’t mind, Inspector, let us have a seat.”

  Distractedly, he glanced up. He started to say something, then halted, his eyes lowering to her rounded middle. “Yes, my lady, let us sit.”

  When she settled comfortably on the plush chintz cushion, the inspector took the chair across from her and withdrew a pen and small vial of ink from his pocket. She sighed, feeling the ache subside from her back. “Now, what sort of questions do you have for me, sir?”

  He cleared his throat, popping open the ink stopper and setting it on the table between them. “Ah, you confessed to being Lord Julian’s shooter when in fact you were not.” He shifted through his notes. “Is that true?”

  Her throat went tight. “Yes.”

  The inspector scribbled something on the paper. “May I ask why the confession, my lady?”

  Now she wished to be on her feet, pacing. “I thought I was protecting my son.”

  “You thought he had shot his lordship?” The inspector paused and glanced up, waiting for her to answer.

  “That’s what I thought.” When he nodded and started writing again, she spoke quickly. “But I have since learned that wasn’t the case at all. Alex didn’t shoot him, either. It was a man. Full grown.” The damnable man kept writing. “Julian—the Marquess of Amersleigh says so.”

  Inspector Hastings halted. “Indeed.” He flipped through several pages. “When did you leave the ship?”

  She blinked at the quick change of topic. “The ship? The one headed to Australia?”