Chapter Twenty
“I say we go at once.” She spoke firmly.
“We will wait until the directions arrive.” His tone more than matched her own.
“It is stupid to delay.”
“It is reckless not to wait.”
The argument had been simmering all day. It boiled over when Langford came to her chambers that night and found her packing her trunk.
He reached down, grabbed the garments in the trunk, and threw them down on the divan. “Unless you intend to walk the house naked, you will still need these.”
“She is in Devon. I am sure of it.”
“It is a big county.”
“She is at that man’s property. You have the name. The thread is thick enough now to follow. We can get there in a few days and release her and—”
“And if she is not? Then the letter comes and no one retrieves it. No one can follow the dagger back to her and her captor.”
“No one will need to because I will have already rescued her.” How could he not see the simplicity of her plan? After worrying for months, she wanted to race to Devon and finish this.
“We will wait for the letter.” He spoke with strained forbearance, like she was a child. With finality. The lord had spoken.
She wanted to kick him. She stomped her foot in frustration instead. “You are horrible. You said you would help, and now you want to dawdle when action is needed.” She grabbed the garments off the divan and threw them into her trunk again. “I will do it alone. I don’t need you for such a simple task, and my skills will probably be more useful than you anyway.”
He gripped her arm firmly. “Do not try my patience, Amanda. You will go nowhere without me. I will not have you riding across the country and confronting this man alone.”
“You cannot stop me.”
“I have already stopped you, and will do so again.”
She stuck her face up at his. “Do you really believe I could not have left if I chose to? The lock on your back portal would take two minutes to release. That folly’s roof provides an easy way to go over the wall and I could climb up on it easily. I could have lost Vincent any day we went to check for the letter, and once I ran he would never have seen where I went.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
“Because I did not know where to go, thanks to your interference. Now I do.”
“You still could have left and found another cellar to wait in until the next letter came.”
“Why wait in a cellar when I could wait in luxury?”
He reacted as if she had challenged him with a slap to the face. Jaw tight and eyes blazing, he strode to the door. “You can enjoy the silken bower a few more days, Amanda. You will be held in close confinement here.”
She almost cried from frustration. He was so damned stubborn. She kicked her trunk. The pain to her toe sliced through her fury. She dropped to the divan and checked to see how badly she had hurt herself. Not too badly, although her toe would be sore for a day or so.
Her open trunk gaped at her, displaying a jumble of made-over dresses and simple chemises. Mixed with the other fabrics, a dark patterned silk drew her attention. The shawl.
His expression when he left came back to her. Anger and resolve, but something else in those eyes. Insult. Hurt.
Then why didn’t you?
A good question. A fair one. The true answer had not been the reason she’d thrown at him. Perhaps it had not been the one he’d wanted to hear, either.
She could not be sure that the emotions she experienced when they embraced were shared by him. She sensed at times that they were, but her heart could be lying to her as surely as she had just lied to him.
He would not have wanted her to speak the truth. I stayed so I could love you as long as the world allowed. How awkward if she had said that. One did not speak of love when the end was in sight. Yet what she had said instead had been an insult to him. To what they did share.
She grabbed the shawl and draped it over her nightdress. She walked out to the bedchamber. She pressed the door’s latch. It did not move.
She laughed to herself, ran to the dressing room, then returned to the door with a hairpin in hand. Half a minute later, she stepped out of her chamber.
She had never visited his apartment, but she knew where it was. The movements of the servants had told her that much. She trailed past other doors until she arrived at his. She tried the latch and it gave away.
The first chamber served as a sitting room. She gazed around its darkened space, but he was not there. There was another door, and light leaked through the crack where it was ajar.
Suddenly it opened fully and he strode through. He halted when he saw her. The light behind him illuminated his white shirt, but shadows formed the rest of him.
“Did you wear that shawl to remind me that my own stupidity entangled me in this business?”
“I wore it so I would not be indecent if a servant came upon me.” She let it drop.
“What the hell do you want?”
Still angry. Still insulted.
“You, of course. That is the real reason I stayed, and also the best luxury.”
He came to her with two taut strides, grabbed her, and pushed her against the wall. No talking then. His kiss almost devoured her while he pulled off her nightdress. His holds and bites gave no quarter. She released herself into the rough pleasure and instinctively gave back what she got from him until desire cried all through her.
That only drove him harder. He lifted and turned her and bent her over a fat arm of a divan. He grasped her hips and thrust into her hard. Then harder yet, again and again. He did not lead her to her heights but forced her there in a furious taking.
When she was on the brink, already tasting the fulfillment, so hungry for it she thought she would die, he stopped.
“Tell me again why you stayed.”
She barely found her voice. “For this. For you.”
He thrust deeply. She gasped. The finish beckoned again, tantalizing her.
“Again. Tell me again.”
“For you.”
He filled her over and over until the exquisite trembles when they joined became a tremor that shook her essence.
* * *
He rode the release until its end. He did not know how long he stood there or how his legs supported him. Finally, he found half his mind.
She did not move while he pulled off his clothes. She looked lovely and erotic with her long legs parted and her bottom raised. His blood attempted to stir again, but accepted defeat for a while.
He lifted her and carried her into the next chamber, put her on the bed, then dropped next to her.
“If I hurt you—”
“You did not hurt me. I do not think you would allow yourself to do that.”
She had more faith in him that he did. Seeing her in his chambers had raised a sharp edge in the anger that had sent him back here after their argument. Even her words had not softened him.
I stayed because of you. He drew her closer, into his arms.
She turned and laid her head on his chest. “You should get better locks.”
“Would it matter? I expect those who can work locks can work all of them.”
“It would slow them down. I would never have been able to take the brooch if the museum had a better lock on its case. There were people about. If I could not do it fast, I could not do it at all.”
“I will respect your expertise and tell the butler to see to better locks.”
“Wait until I am gone. Just in case I want to escape.”
He had to smile. Yet her reference to leaving caused a stirring of the anger again, because he did not want to think about that yet. Whenever he did, he tasted an emotion that reminded him too much of grief.
“I think there may be a way to compromise how we try to find your mother,” he said. “It may be possible to do it both ways. Go to Devon as you want, but also follow the dagger.”
“I suppose if we separate in our actions, that might work.”
“We will not separate. There is no telling what waits at the end of the search.”
“You are being stubborn again.”
“Did you think a good rut would change my mind? I appreciate the effort to seduce me to your plan, but it failed.”
She laughed and kissed him. “I wanted to seduce you for my own pleasure. Of course, if it made your thinking more pliable, all the better.”
“It did that, but not in the way you wanted. I have concluded that you and I should go to Devon once the directions come. Someone else should make the delivery and follow the dagger. If it is as we suspect, we will all end up in the same place. If it is not, we will still have the location where the dagger went.”
After a moment of consideration, she said, “I suppose you intend to have Vincent follow the dagger.”
“You sound skeptical.”
“He is green and rash. He will never be careful enough. If it is merely posted by a go-between to its destination, he does not have the skill to learn where it is going. He is not clever enough to find a way to get a look at the direction on the box.”
“Vincent would be insulted by your lack of confidence.”
“He has the heart for such work, but not enough experience. You should tell him to apprentice himself to a runner if he thinks he wants to become an investigator. It is a skill not unlike thieving. One must learn the trade.”
“I was not thinking of Vincent. This requires someone whose discretion I trust without question.”
Which meant only one person.
* * *
The horses charged at a hard gallop across the park’s hills, pulling far away from the carriages and walkers on the Serpentine. At the tree designated as the end of the race, Gabriel pulled up his horse in a pivot while Brentworth closed the last few yards.
“Damnation,” Brentworth cursed. “If this horse can’t beat yours, he will hardly do well in a real race.”
“You bought him without my advice. That was a mistake.”
Brentworth frowned darkly, then acquiesced the point. “It was an impulse at an auction. One which you did not attend.”
He would have gone if requested. However, Brentworth prided himself on knowing horses. He owned several strong winners that he raced all over England. Gabriel had been with him when he purchased those.
Brentworth usually approached horse trading the same way he arranged for a new mistress—with little emotion. That he had bought on impulse was surprising.
“I am perplexed that you succumbed to auction fever for this animal. It has good lines, but I can see nothing special that would provoke such a reaction.”
Brentworth patted the chestnut’s neck. “I think he reminded me of the first horse I had as a boy.”
“Then keep him for riding. It is a better life for him anyway.”
They walked the horses to cool them down. Gabriel made sure they moved far away from any other riders who might choose to race to the tree.
“I have another favor to ask,” he said.
“I thought you might. Can I ask questions this time?”
“You probably should.”
“Is this dangerous?”
“Unlikely, but that is difficult to say. Your discretion is also required.”
Brentworth stopped his horse. “Explain yourself.”
He had considered giving Brentworth only half the story. Instead, on that hill, while the remnant of society gathered for the fashionable hour, he told him everything. He owed Brentworth the whole truth.
Brentworth heard him out in silence. “When do you expect to receive this letter?” he asked when Gabriel was finished.
“Any day now.”
“Send the directions to me and I will have the dagger delivered. As for following it, I will recruit Stratton to join me. It will do him good to have a purpose besides fatherhood for a few days.”
“That is not wise. Even alone and in disguise you will be . . . notable.” He found himself using Amanda’s word for that which can never be disguised. Brentworth was one of the most notable of the notables in England. “Better one than two.”
“I’ll be damned if I will wear a disguise, Langford. The culprit is sure to wonder why some odd fellow uncomfortable in his old coats is always about. Stratton and I will go as we are, and the man will be none the wiser. In a hundred years, he would never think two dukes had any interest in him.”
“Bring Stratton if you will, and tell him what you must.”
“I shall tell him everything, of course.” He vaguely shook his head. “You are going to a great deal of trouble for this woman. I hope you know what you are doing.”
Gabriel turned his horse and they rode on. Brentworth’s last comment had not been about the plan or the search. He really meant I hope that you know that you risk compromising all that you are for this woman.