Chapter 24
The chaos of getting everyone fed and ready for bed took nearly three hours. Miss Knight helped bathe the children. Blackthorn made sure the housekeeper prepared the rooms and lit the fireplaces for the night.
He paused at the base of the stairs. A momentary stillness engulfed him as buried memories flooded through him. Somehow being here with these children filled him with guilt and grief. Perhaps it was because his brother had wanted to fill this house with his children. It should be Max standing here with his own children. Not only had he been a dutiful son, he had stood for all that was good in this world. He would have been a good father.
When Max had suddenly died from an unrelenting fever, Blackthorn had blamed himself. Max may have been older, but he’d always been weak and fragile. There was nothing Blackthorn could do but torture himself with the knowledge that he hadn’t done enough. Suddenly, this house had become a cold and lifeless place.
His thoughts turned to the children now sound asleep in their warm beds. The truth was, Francis’s laughter seemed to magically lift the heavy burden that lingered in his heart. Early that night, the young cherub had said that it was silly to call the infant “Baby” and had wanted to name her Bell instead. When he’d asked her why, she’d replied, “All my sisters have little sisters, except me. I want her to be my little sister.” She went on to explain that since their surname was Bell, she felt it was fitting to give it to the baby so that she would be part of their family.
“So her name will be Bell Bell?” he’d asked.
She had giggled. “No, silly. Just Bell. Our Bell.”
“I see,” he’d said, touched. “Then Bell it is.” He didn’t have the heart to tell her Bell may not be with them for long. He would have to inquire about the baby’s family soon. It would be difficult for the girls to lose her, but if the baby had a relative willing to take her in, he could not in good conscience deprive the infant of growing up with her own family.
Blackthorn slowly walked up the stairs and through the hallway. There he saw Miss Knight quietly step out of the children’s room and close the door behind her. She was holding a taper candle, and the soft glow spilled to her neckline and down to her full bosom. Her lips pulled into a grin.
That smile. He could lose himself in her smile. For a moment, everything that anchored them to their duties seemed to fade away and fatigue set in.
“Are they asleep?” he whispered to her.
“Finally, yes,” she replied, walking up to him.
“Good,” he said. “You must be exhausted.”
“I am, but right now they are safe. I worry about them losing their mother so suddenly.”
Blackthorn watched her with confusion. He’d never met a woman more self-sacrificing than her. “For now, they have you . . .us. You can’t take care of those around you if you aren’t well.”
“I agree,” she said. “I want so much for the children to have a home, and someone to care for them.” She paused, as if she wasn’t sure she should continue. “But I fear the ramifications of their mother’s death haven’t fully reached them. The eldest girl, I believe her name is Beatrice, well she is awfully quiet. Too quiet, I’m afraid.”
“They have you for now,” he said again. “I’m here to do whatever I can.”
Her gaze softened with a smile. “I thank you for that, but I fear it’s not enough.”
Cook had told him how Amelia’s her mother had sent her away and left London.
“Do you have a moment?” she asked.
“Of course.”
“We can talk in the parlor,” she said, leading the way.
Once they were ensconced in the parlor, he quietly shut the door and lit three taper candles on the candelabra, setting it on the side table next to the chairs. He watched her as the soft glow of candlelight splashed across her face. Several locks of hair fell loose, and dark brown stains on the sleeve of her cream dress reminded him of the night they’d had. With all the fineries and servants at her disposal, she had chosen to be there for these children. Generous to a fault, and she asked for nothing in return, he thought with a tug in his heart.
She blinked again, looking at him with those chestnut-brown eyes. She looked so fragile in the gleam of the candlelight. How many times had he fantasized about having her in his bed, kissing her, all of her? He wanted her. He wanted to feel her hands on him, all of him. In the intimacy of the room, he momentarily forgot why he’d asked her here. Oh God, how he wanted to kiss away her troubles and protect her from the demons she was fighting.
She walked over to the couch and sat down, her hands folded on her lap. “About the other night . . .”
“Yes,” he said with a smile, knowing exactly what she was referring to. “Go on.”
“I don’t think it should happen again.”
“You think it was a mistake?”
“No,” she said. “I mean, yes.”
“Which is it?”
“It was . . .a mistake. I think it is best if we don’t get physical for the sake of the arrangement.”
“It’s too late for that, don’t you think?” His eyes fell to her chest, taking in her perfectly formed bosom rising and falling in anticipation of what was coming. She was watching him carefully, forming her retort.
“I don’t believe so,” she said bravely. “Just because we shared one night of union, that does not mean we can’t remain friends.”
“For the sake of our arrangement?”
“Yes,” she said with a defiant glare. Her lips thinned. “I am quite tired and would like to retire if you don’t mind.”
“One more thing. That man in the alley, you said you didn’t know him.”
“I don’t,” she said. “Why?”
Her gaze was observant, as if to scrutinize his intentions while waiting to see what he might say next. It was difficult to forgo his spy training. Since he’d left university, it had been ingrained in him to watch, observe, and extract as much information as possible in a given time. Hiding behind the façade he’d erected with such precision, he sometimes forgot who the hell he was. This habit was hard to break.
“I believe the man in the alley may have been Sir Kendall.”
“Really?” she said. “Why do you think he may be the one?”
“Millie is carrying Philip’s child, according to Cook. It would make sense that he doesn’t want you to find her.” Blackthorn feared Kendall may have already disposed of Millie since she was carrying Philip’s child. This knowledge would surely humiliate Kendall since his aim was to be part of Society and be accepted as one of them.
“Do you think he might hurt her?” she asked when he didn’t reply.
“I don’t know.” He knew very well a man like Kendall would not think twice about hurting a whore, but he was not about to worry Amelia more than he already had.
She touched her necklace, and tears filled her eyes. Wiping them away, she said, “I am sorry. I’ve never cried so much in my life. I learned quickly to dry my tears when I was in Scotland.”
“Your grandmother didn’t allow tears?”
“No,” she said. “She used to say, ‘Emotions only complicate things.’”
There was much truth to that, he concluded. Yet he could not stop himself from touching her. He reached out and pulled her into his arms.
She searched his eyes for comfort. His eyes softened and he kissed her gently on her lips. This extraordinary man made her wish for things she had never thought possible for her. Richard shifted and kissed the curve of her neck. Without forethought, she positioned herself and pulled at his shirt. Her hand worked to untie his cravat, and she pulled it until it came free. She didn’t want to be the timid, innocent girl who waited for a man to take charge of making love to her.
She saw the hunger in his eyes, burning, wanting, and waiting impatiently to see what she’d do next. The other night, she had told him to undress in front of her and he had. Oh, how glorious that had felt. A sense of control over this man aroused her, thrilled her. She didn’t allow herself to think, this one last time.
Quickly, he pulled off her drawers and tossed it, then slowly proceeded to unclasp the garters and slid the silk stockings off one by one. He pulled the dress off her and began to untie the cross-lace on her corset until she was free from it. Donned in a see-through chemisette, her perky nipples rubbed on the fabric. She saw the heat in his eyes and she smiled in approval and slowly pulled her chemisette off.
He looked at her with an intensity she’d seen when he’d been with her alone in her bedchamber. When he kissed her, it was hot and wanting and the sudden feel of his silky tongue licking the tips of her nipples one at a time made her body melt, and she moaned. Sucking, licking, he continued until she was whispering his name again and again.
Richard gathered her on his lap and his hands slowly glided up her thighs toward her buttocks. She inched closer and positioned herself above the tight mound beneath her, and all the while he was kissing her neck, chest, and lower… Then lower still until he was right above her nipples.
She liked this. No, she loved this feeling. This sensation was intoxicating, and her body seemed to know what to do without her command. His hand shifted downward between her legs and touched the soft spot there. He was deliciously stroking her sex, and she moaned softly. Oh, what was he doing to her? His hands did magical things to her and she couldn’t think. She couldn’t help but drink in the sensations he was creating with his wonderful hand. Again, he sucked on the rosy peak of her breast with demanding mastery, while her hands ran through the thick of his hair.
Is this how he made love to all his lovers? No wonder women loved him. Her arms wrapped around his neck to pull him closer to her, and he kissed her gently at first until his mouth covered hers hungrily, demanding her to open her lips. His tongue slid in and explored her mouth like he had been deprived, while his hands stroked the nub between her legs.
He broke the kiss. “Let’s take it slow, my sweet.”
She shook her head. “I don’t want it slow.”
His gaze met hers with the intensity and focus of a hunter in action. He shifted and gently placed her on the couch and lowered himself.
“What are you doing?” she said.
He gave her a naughty smile. “I am going to please you again. You liked it enough the other night.”
So he did remember, she thought with a smile.
He lifted the skirt up higher to her hips, and slowly kissed her inner thigh, leaving her sex throbbing in need as he moved upward to kiss her there. She arched her back as his stroke became hot and her need for more became unbearable. No words could explain the sensation that ignited there. Even if she wanted to stop, she couldn’t. His tongue dabbed, stroked, and licked that sensitive part of her body until she thought she would burst with pleasure. But something was holding her back. This intense feeling felt frighteningly uncontrollable.
“Let go,” he said, looking up at her. “Release for me, darling.”
Instinctively, her fingers forked through his hair as his hands cupped her buttocks to get a better angle. In an instant, the last stroke of his soft mouth did it, and she heard herself cry out loud in an intensifying release that left her feeling blissfully happy.
Was this what all women experienced? Was this what she’d been missing? The one time she’d been with a man hadn’t brought her anything close to this kind of pleasure, lust, or whatever you wanted to call it. While her chest heaved, he came up to lie with her on the couch and gave her a passionate kiss. Their bodies intertwined like a vine, and they were one.
She ran her hand over his firm chest and reached down to his swollen manhood, and he smiled. Undoing the buttons, she reached in and touched him. He shifted so that she could have a better angle as she explored the firmness of him as if she were exploring a new land where she’d never been. Full and ready. She stroked it again and again, and in the depth of his low groan, he searched for her mouth and claimed it with hunger. She gave herself freely to his need. Her need. She liked this control over him. Loved it. She touched the tip of his erection and stroked it gently with her thumb, again and again, watching his hard expression all the while, never looking away. Within several seconds, he released with a low moan that made her smile.
For several minutes, they both remained still. He reached down and grabbed her hand, kissing the palm before holding her hand on his chest.
She helped him wipe himself off, and he pulled her close to kiss her again. “I can get used to this,” he said, helping her sit up next to him. He released the ornate pin in her hair and her hair came tumbling down.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, looking at his expression. “You’re not happy?”
“You’re beautiful,” he said. Pulling her close to him, he wrapped her in his arms and stroked her bare back, moving lower and lower, until he stiffened. It was then she realized why he didn’t move. Oh, no, this was not what she wanted.
“Let me see your back,” he said, his tone grave and low.
She tried pulling her bodice up, but he wouldn’t let her. She slowly lowered her bodice and turned her back to him reluctantly.
For several seconds he was silent.
Too silent.
“Who has done this to you?” His tone was a mixture of disgust and loathing.
“Do you have to ask?” she replied, turning to face him. His expression changed and there was sadness in his eyes. “My grandmother,” she said. When he didn’t reply, she continued. “My grandmother does not tolerate misbehavior.”
“You are not property to be enslaved or beaten,” he said angrily.
“She thinks otherwise.” The words came out in a whisper.
“Has she done anything else?”
More than Amelia could count, but she was not about to relive the horrible events. “No.”
He pulled her closer to him and kissed all six thick scars that ran nearly two feet in length across her back. When her grandmother had discovered that for months Amelia had spent her free time with the young man who worked the stables and took care of the horses, her grandmother had raged. Amelia had not been allowed to eat for two days.
On the third day, she had been allowed water and porridge and continued with her regular schedule, but that hadn’t stopped the tears because she had discovered that her grandmother had relieved the young man without compensation. She had been forbidden to speak with the servants from then on. Her life got lonelier as each day passed.
Her grandmother had blamed her for everything. She had thought about running away, but where would she go? To her mother, who didn’t want her? She hadn’t even known if her mother was alive. To her relatives she didn’t have? Where? The glimmer of hope that she may buy her freedom one day, and see Millie again, had kept her there.
With everything Richard had done for her, the least she could do was explain. “I stayed because I knew if I did as she asked, I would have my freedom one day. She can’t live forever.”
“Is this the reason you have chosen to live out your life alone?”
“I won’t be alone. I have friends,” she said. More like one friend, but he didn’t need to know that. “Kate has been a true friend to me.”
He nodded as if to sympathize. “Trust is earned. I don’t give it away easily, and I sense from your tone that you are the same.” He paused. “This brutality should never have happened to you.”
His jaw twitched, and he gazed at her most seriously.
“What’s wrong?” she said.
“This will never happen to you again. Your grandmother will never hurt you again.”
She smiled at him and gave him a kiss. What kind of life had he had? What had his childhood been like? She assumed all aristocrats did as they pleased, when they pleased, and in the manner they deemed fit. But he was different. For the first time, she truly saw the depth of his compassion, his generosity and kindness. There was something about him that was sad, too. She’d seen it but hadn’t cared to see what was in front of her, for survival.
She watched him, really looked at him, and noticed something she hadn’t seen before. There was a visible scar below his ear, about an inch long. Her eyes traveled down and saw a scar below his shoulder blade.
“Where did you get this?” she asked, reaching out to touch it.
“I was attacked with a knife.”
“By whom?”
“Street gang.”
For someone who reprimanded her for lurking in dangerous places, he must have spent quite a lot of time there to get hurt the way he had, which made her wonder why he had been there in the first place. “And this?” she said, pointing to the round scar.
“Bullet wound, in the army. I was young.”
She kissed it. “Where did you go after you left the army?”
“I went to work for the Home Office.”
Her opinion of him had been quite premature. She’d thought he’d lived a life of luxury and privilege in the safe confines of his home, but she was wrong. “Doing what?”
He was quiet for a moment. “I will tell you more about it tomorrow.”
“You know everything about me,” she said. “Please, I desire to know.”
He sighed heavily. “I went on diplomatic missions for the Regent in the interest of my country.”
Hum…interesting. “What does that mean, exactly?”
“My sweet, please . . . I’m tired and I’d like to sleep with you next to me.”
She thought about what he had revealed to her. It sounded awfully like— “Were you a spy?”
He said nothing for a moment. “I like to keep that part of my life behind me.”
She had been so completely wrong about this man. He was honorable, kind, and generous. And now she was falling for him.
Which was not an option for her. If only her heart could agree with that.