A bolt of shock had her straightening. “You are asking me to accompany you? I thought Fieldstones was inappropriate.”
A puckish tilt of his lips banished a portion of his worry. “For an unmarried debutante, Fieldstones would be ruinous. For a married lady in masquerade, not so much.”
“We’ll be masked?”
“Yes, and only there to find Gilmore. Not to… partake.”
“We shan’t partake of the refreshments?” She had never been warned off cake and lemonade.
Marcus shook his head. “I fear you’ll be scandalized and swoon before we can complete the mission.”
She harrumphed and settled back against the pillows, feeling more than a little put out with his assessment. “If I didn’t swoon after discovering a dead body, I doubt observing the ton carousing will send me over the edge.”
He hummed and murmured, “We’ll see. Get some rest.”
Marcus retook his position on the chair, his focus inward now. She lost the battle to keep her eyes open within minutes.
Chapter 11
Marcus transferred his gaze from the grimy window of the hack to Delilah. She shifted on the squab across from him and tugged at the bodice of the scandalous green dress, but there wasn’t another inch to be had. The landlady of the inn had braided and pinned Delilah’s hair into a coronet on top of her head, and her face was covered from the tip of her nose to her hairline by a black silk mask. She was unrecognizable as the innocent debutante in white of the week before.
The sway of the carriage only made him more aware of the delectable amount of creamy skin exposed from neck to bosom. Marcus did his best not to stare even though he was entitled to the liberty of looking at his wife. And more.
Wife. He’d had to remind himself of his current reality a half dozen times. Marriage hadn’t been on the horizon a scant fortnight ago, and now he was bound to Delilah forever. Performing his husbandly duties would be no hardship, but he didn’t want their first coupling to be in a rented room on worn sheets.
She deserved more. Better. Better than him. But now that she’d chosen him, he would do his best to keep her safe and make sure she didn’t regret the decision.
Marcus cleared his throat and rubbed his fist over the smudgy window, his foot tapping with a combination of nerves and anticipation. Was the conclusion to the drama within sight?
Marcus patted his jacket. The book, The Fair Breeding of Cattle, Delilah had salvaged from his apartment was tucked inside his pocket. It was only supposition that the book’s leather binding and size would fool their quarry into believing it was valuable to anyone but a cattle breeder. “I don’t think the book will be necessary.”
Using the book as a possible decoy had been Delilah’s idea. She’d read a novel that featured a cursed book and a heroine who had been tasked with its destruction without angering the ghosts protecting it. The heroine had replaced the cursed book with a copy in order to burn it, thereby saving not only her life, but the handsome, eligible baron who lived in the haunted castle. Marcus hoped he and Delilah would get a chance at a happily ever after.
“Preparation is the better part of valor,” Delilah said haughtily.
Marcus couldn’t help but smile. “I believe the quote is, ‘discretion is the better part of valor.’”
“Oh yes, you’re right.” Delilah deflated slightly against the seat. “I have the feeling we’ll require both this evening.”
Marcus anticipated less discretion and more violence. He fully expected to come to blows in order to retrieve the book from Gilmore, who understood the coded book represented life and death. The presence of the murderous Lord W complicated matters even more. If he couldn’t retrieve the book before the handoff was made, the danger increased exponentially.
“Let’s go over the plan once more,” he said in a calm voice that didn’t reflect his inner turmoil.
“I’m not to talk to anyone. I’m not to look at anyone. I’m to stay by your side and keep my eyes on the floor at all times.” She ticked off his instructions on her glove-clad fingers. “Although it’s too late to protect my delicate sensibilities.”
“This is not like stumbling across a dead body,” he said primly.
She harrumphed and cast him a disbelieving glare. “Are you quite mad? Nothing we encounter in Fieldstones will shock me. I can promise you that.”
All Marcus could do was shake his head. From what he’d gleaned of the club, it made the usual dens of inequities look chaste. But if his plan held, they would be in and out without encountering any serious debauchery. Although, just in case, they had to look the part, hence Delilah’s dress and their masks.
The hack passed a set of gleaming black doors and pulled to a stop at the alleyway as instructed. Marcus hopped out and looked up and down the street, seeing nothing out of sorts before turning to help Delilah out. When she would have stepped toward the front entrance, Marcus took her elbow and led her into the darkened alley.
“Where are we going, and what’s that smell?” She held her gloved fingers under her nose.
“It’s best we don’t investigate the origin of such scents. Let’s hope my contact managed to leave the door cracked for us.”
“Who is this mysterious contact?”
“A serving girl I happened across on purpose in Covent Gardens.”
“How did you convince her to help you?” The tartness in Delilah’s voice was new and tainted green.
“Using only my Irish charm.” He exaggerated his Irish lilt and gave her a crooked grin. “Let’s hope I left a favorable impression. If I didn’t, the coin I slipped her should help.”
The door had indeed been left cracked open, and they found themselves in a utilitarian hallway lined with closed doors. Music, the low hum of conversation, and the occasional bark of laughter drifted from behind a black velvet curtain at the end of the hall.
“What happens now?” she whispered.
“We find somewhere to wait and keep watch for our quarry.” Marcus took her hand and led her toward the curtain that separated the hallway from the revelry in full swing beyond. They were too conspicuous in the deserted hall, yet as he gripped the edge of the heavy velvet, he hesitated. Once they were beyond the veil, so to speak, could he protect Delilah from what she might see? Did she even need protection?
“We’re awfully exposed here,” she whispered.
Not sure what they’d find on the other side, he pushed through the curtain. He blinked and looked around with astonishment. The space had the scope of a ballroom, and there was a four-piece ensemble playing a lilting piece in the corner, but that’s where the similarities ended. Instead of couples gathered for dancing, they milled about flirting or sprawled on settees scattered throughout the room.
The scent and excitement of sex permeated the room. It was heady. The couple on the nearest settee were kissing. No, not just kissing. They were in a preamble to sex. The woman sat between the man’s spread legs. While he fumbled to loosen the tapes of his partner’s dress, she tucked her hand into his breeches, the stroking movements quite familiar to Marcus.
“What is she doing to him?” While she kept her voice low, Delilah stared and took a step closer to the couple.
Marcus took her by the arm and drew her into his side. “She’s taking him in hand.” At Delilah’s blank look, he added, “Giving him pleasure by touching him.”
Delilah cast a speculative look up at him. “Interesting.”
“We can’t let ourselves be distracted. We must find Gilmore.” Marcus tried to tamp down the arousal incited by the scene. “Stay focused.”
Marcus guided Delilah away from the man and woman on the settee, but the waters only grew more dangerous to his sanity. On their right were alcoves with the same velvet curtains at the doorway drawn for privacy, but the grunts and moans emanating left little to the imagination. He could only hope Delilah didn’t recognize what they implied.
“I see him,” Delilah whispered close to his ear. “On a chaise with
a woman. And a man?”
Marcus spotted him. It seemed the man’s degenerate reputation was well earned. How long would the man be? They couldn’t stand in the middle of the room and gawp at Gilmore like simpletons.
“Let’s retreat to watch.” Marcus wrapped an arm around her waist and drew her into an embrace in the shadows next to the curtained off hallway. He wanted to keep his eye on both Gilmore and anyone who might enter through the back door.
To keep up the pretense, Marcus pressed kisses along Delilah’s temple and let his hand roam her curves, all the while staying focused on why they were at Fieldstones.
At least, his mind stayed focused. His body, and more specifically, his cock, had gained a new sense of purpose. The blasted organ had one mission—escape his breeches and find satisfaction with Delilah. It wasn’t even picky as to how at this point.
She circled her arms around his torso and grabbed the back of his jacket, drawing them ever closer. He took a deep breath and rocked his hips against her.
“Gilmore is heading this way,” Delilah said on a ragged breath.
Marcus cursed himself under his breath. He wouldn’t get them out of Fieldstones alive, much less with the information he sought if he allowed himself to be distracted.
With his mouth pressing kisses along Delilah’s jaw, he watched Gilmore. Disheveled, with sweat glistening on his forehead, the man shuffled toward them but not in a straight line. Not a half dozen feet away, he stopped, swaying, to stick a hand in the pocket on the inside of his jacket. He pulled a hand-sized book partway out before tucking it away again and continuing, his destination the hallway.
Marcus’s mouth dried with nerves and anticipation. Gilmore had the book and was foxed. The opportunity was ripe but brief. Marcus had to act. He shifted Delilah under his arm and stumbled from the shadows to intercept Gilmore before he reached the curtains.
He misjudged the distance slightly and caught up with Gilmore as he was fiddling with the curtains to locate the edge. Letting go of Delilah’s hand, Marcus tipped his head and feigned drunkenness himself, stumbling into Gilmore. They twisted in a clumsy waltz in time to the music and found themselves tangled in the curtain, halfway into the hallway.
“I say, who the devil are you?” Lord Gilmore’s words slurred, and the fumes of his breath could have been lit on fire, but Marcus sensed something else. Fear. Suspicion.
“No one of import,” Marcus answered in a hopefully convincing slur. “I’m terribly sorry. I’m a trifle disguised.”
The book and perhaps the truth was within his grasp. His heart tapped faster against his ribs. Timing was everything, and it seemed the gods were smiling on him this night.
He faked a trip and fell into Gilmore. It was the work of a few seconds of grappling to retrieve the book from the pocket of Gilmore’s jacket and replace it with his decoy copy of cattle breeding. Marcus palmed the stolen book behind his back.
“Apologies, my good man. The blue ruin will be the death me. Probably best we take our leave.” Marcus took a stumbling sidestep toward the exit to the alley.
The alley door rattled, and a man stepped inside. Gilmore stared, slack-jawed, as if Beelzebub had appeared to claim his soul. Between the dim light and the man’s concealing cloak and hat, his identity remained a mystery.
Not to Lord Gilmore, however. “Lord W,” the man said on a soft quiver. He was already a mass of nerves and trepidation, and he hadn’t yet realized he had a fake book.
Marcus felt a moment’s hesitation. Were they dooming Gilmore to the same fate as Quinton? Marcus stared into the shadow of Lord W’s face and could feel the man’s cold regard. It was almost as if the man were indeed a devil and did not possess a beating heart. His hand had done evil and would again given the provocation. Or even without.
While a fundamental part of Marcus wanted to unmask Lord W and seek retribution, until he could examine the book himself, it was neither the time nor place for such a confrontation. Gilmore, on the other hand, had made his bargain with the devil and was obliged to pay the price. Hopefully, Hawkins would make his move soon. Marcus’s only concern now was protecting Delilah.
Marcus pulled her back through the curtain.
“Marcus, what—”
Tucking the book into his own jacket, he shushed her and scanned the room. The bacchanalian atmosphere was growing wilder by the minute. He spotted a staircase beyond the semiprivate alcoves. Moving deeper into the heart of the house was a risk but one that seemed safer than waiting to be discovered. They swiftly climbed the stairs side by side. Couples milled up and down the corridor at the top. Some were well-dressed; others were barely dressed at all.
Marcus moderated his pace, chose a door halfway down the right side of the corridor, and entered. It was a narrow, dimly lit room portioned off by yet more curtains. At the moment, it was empty, as was the larger room it overlooked through a series of viewing windows. Marcus led Delilah to the farthest corner and concealed them behind the heavy velvet.
“Did you recognize him?” Marcus whispered.
Delilah’s eyes were as round as saucers. “The man in the state of undress on the pedestal? I don’t know who he was. His mask was quite elaborate, but to be honest, I was rather distracted by… Well, I wasn’t making a close examination of his face.” Pink rushed up her cheeks to the edge of her mask.
“I meant did you recognize the man in the hallway?” he asked dryly.
“Oh him. He had a cold air about him, didn’t you think? Surely there can’t be two such men wandering London.”
Based on Marcus’s last few weeks, his count of evil men was reaching a half dozen, at least.
“Do you think he recognized me?” For the first time, fear splintered in her voice.
There was only one answer to give even if he wasn’t sure it was true. “Not with your mask. We’ll be safe enough.”
“What now?”
“Now we bide our time until we can slip out with no one the wiser.”
“What about Gilmore and the killer and the book?”
“We must leave Gilmore and Lord W to Hawkins.” He opened his jacket and patted the inside pocket. “I pilfered the book when I stumbled into Gilmore and replaced it with our decoy. Although that was a deuced useful book on cattle. I’ll miss it.”
She blinked, her mouth in an O. “I didn’t even notice. Well done. Should we examine it?”
He traced the outline of the book in his pocket like a talisman, much the way Gilmore had done. It was smaller and thinner than the book he’d slipped into Gilmore’s pocket. “Later. When we’re alone and safe.”
“What are we waiting for? Let’s depart.” She moved toward the heavy velvet curtain but paused before drawing it aside when the sound of voices grew closer.
Her gaze shot to his with a question. He covered her hand and shook his head. How long would it take for Gilmore and Lord W to discover the real book had been lifted? Would they tear Fieldstones apart or assume the thief had absconded into the night after obtaining the book?
Marcus was betting on the latter. They would hide for now and scurry back to the inn after the drama played out between Gilmore, Lord W, and Hawkins. He drew Delilah toward the shadowy corner of the small space. Movement drew their attention to the larger room on the other side of the windows. With a jolt, Marcus understood the odd configuration. They were in a viewing gallery, and the man and woman on the other side were their entertainment.
The couple’s desperation and arousal were palpable, and it was impossible not to be affected by the shift in atmosphere. A storm was coming.
The woman wore no mask, while the man’s mask was plain and black. It seemed almost an afterthought, or more likely, a reminder his name or title wasn’t to be used within the confines of the club. The woman’s hair was black and waved around her shoulders, her skin alabaster, and her lips full and very red.
She pushed the man onto a green velvet chair with a curved back but no arms. He spread his legs, leaned back, and laced his
hands behind his head. The woman gave a throaty laugh. “My, you are eager, my lord.”
“Eager for your mouth, my dear. Now, get to work on my cock.” His voice was cultured and teasing.
The woman dropped to her knees and opened the man’s trousers. He wore no smallclothes, and his cock sprang free, already hard. The woman wrapped her hand around the base and twirled her tongue around the tip of his erection. The contrast between the woman’s pale fingers gripping the ruddy cock and her red lips at the head was decadent and primal.
Marcus peeled his gaze away from the scene in the other room to gauge Delilah’s reaction. She was an innocent. While she might not swoon, he could imagine her filled with shock and disgust.
Neither were reflected on her face. She stared at the couple in utter concentration. Her tongue darted across her lips in a reflection of the woman who was wetting hers before engulfing the man’s cock in her mouth.
“Oh my.” Delilah touched her own mouth, her flushed chest rising and falling with her quickened breaths.
Marcus swallowed hard. If he had to guess at her state of mind, he would say she was… aroused.
“Delilah? I can whisk you away and—”
“No.” While her voice was soft, it was emphatic. She stepped into his body, her back to his front. “Is this normal?”
He wasn’t sure whether she was asking about the sexual act taking place or her reaction to it. “Between a man and woman who are attracted to one another, yes.”
“Even between a gentleman and a lady?” She glanced over her shoulder and looked up at him through her lashes. Her innocence veiled a sensuality he longed to unleash. His blood roared through his body, and his own cock hardened.
Shifting closer, he grasped her hips and pressed himself against her bottom. She gasped but didn’t pull away. In fact, she arched her back and let her head fall to his shoulder. He nuzzled her cheek and temple.
“Even between a gentleman and a lady. When we’re in bed together, we will be merely a man and woman.”
“Would you like me to do to you what she’s doing to him?”
A SINFUL SURRENDER: Spies and Lovers Page 13