Chapter 16
“What are you planning?” Kendall said to himself, watching Somersby Hall from the nearby town. The rain had finally stopped as he was sitting in the carriage watching the damn property. His sources had said she was in there with the earl, and that they were up to something. What that something was, he still hadn’t discovered. His sources had also told him that she’d visited the prison too. So she wasn’t taking his warning seriously, was she?
Irritatingly not.
He was taking a risk in coming here, but luckily, he’d taken an extra precaution by hiring an unmarked carriage.
Amelia Knight. That damn, bloody hell name was like salt in the wound. Hell, he’d thought he was rid of that damn family. He was sorry he’d ever taken pity on her mother.
The girl he had known was all grown up. The slim curves were where they ought to be. The girl had tried to attack him that night when he’d been with her mother, that bitch. Just as her mother had been a pain in the arse after she did away with her daughter. She had packed up and disappeared the next night when he’d come for her.
The landlord had told him she hadn’t mentioned where she was going, nor if she planned on coming back. Oh, how he’d been angry after that. She’d been his favorite, that much he would admit to, but his benevolence had been paid back to him with betrayal.
He had looked for her for nearly a month. Not because she’d had any meaning to him in his life, but he’d given her an expensive jewel he’d acquired at his gambling hall before calling on her. A one-karat sapphire ring, one that reminded him of her eyes. He’d thought he saw her at Hyde Park a few years back. That kind of beauty—she was a whore, but a beauty—was hard to miss. She’d been with a man and a little boy who looked to be no more than five. She’d gotten into a carriage with the man and the boy and they had driven off.
He’d never done anything like that, given a pricy jewel to a whore, but he’d been drunk and out of his mind, apparently. And now her daughter was back in town, as an heiress no less.
When he had heard some woman, a stranger, had been looking for Millie, he hadn’t thought much of it, until his sources told him who this individual was.
Damn it. He did not need this trouble now. He’d planned on washing his hands of this business since his son would soon wed Lucinda. He’d wanted this for his son, a life that he’d dreamt of since he’d been old enough to remember. Stealing his way in the streets and saving every penny of that money until he had enough to own his own pub.
From where he sat, he could see the dark clouds dispersing, and the rain had stopped. He needed to go before he risked too much.
After Kendall returned from White’s, a club he frequented at St. James’s Street, he entered his townhouse and quietly shut the door. When his butler arrived several minutes later and took his coat, Kendall said, “Whisky.” The butler was always late in attending to his duties. He reminded himself to get rid of the old man once the Season ended.
“Right away, sir,” the butler said, then walked off to get the drink.
Kendall made his way to his study and lit the candles. Once he was alone and no one was there to watch his every move, he yanked his cravat loose and untied it before tossing it on his leather chair. He did the same for his greatcoat. Sinking deep into his leather chair, he lay back, closed his eyes, and released a long sigh.
Amelia—damn girl. Why did she have to show up now, and why the hell was she looking for Millie? He’d last seen Amelia while he’d been in the middle of tupping her mother. Her mother had been a very good whore, he reflected with a smile that soon turned into a grimace.
There was a knock at the door, and he opened his eyes. He looked at the small, ornate clock on his desk. It was nearly seven in the evening.
Knock, knock.
Philip peeped in. “Father?” Philip said, watching his father’s expression. “Is anything wrong?”
“Aren't you supposed to be at a dinner party?” Kendall said, trying his best to hide his annoyance.
The butler knocked, and when Kendall gave permission to enter, he walked in and placed a glass of whisky from his silver tray on the desk.
“Anything else, sir?” the expressionless butler said in a stately manner.
Kendall waved him away and the butler promptly left.
"The dinner is not until eight, Father," Philip said. He watched his father carefully.
Kendall looked at the small clock on his desk. “It seemed late. Don’t you have something to do?”
"I heard you come in and wanted to see you,” he said. “You look unwell, Father."
"No need to worry yourself, boy." Kendall cleared his throat again. "I had some business matters that I needed to deal with.” He forced a smile, watching his son waiting for his approval.
“Of course,” Philip said as if waiting for Kendall to say more. When he didn’t, his son left him alone. “I’ve purchased the ring as you suggested, Father.”
The ring for the woman he intended to propose to. The boy always needed too much encouragement to get things done. Must Kendall think of everything? It was exhausting. “Good.”
“Do you want to see it?”
“Maybe later,” he said. When he said nothing else to his son, Philip took the hint and left him alone. Kendall walked to his door and locked it. No more than a few minutes after his son had left, Mrs. Pots entered the room.
“You kept me waiting a long time,” she said, walking over to Kendall.
“That could not be helped. What have you discovered?” he asked. The night of the ball, he had found Amelia’s chaperone drinking champagne in the corner outside the ballroom, mumbling something about how Amelia the spoiled brat had ruined her life. He had made it his business to pay attention. He had approached her, finding common ground in his opinion of Amelia Knight. With a little wooing, she had been under his thumb. This woman was starving for attention.
“Nothing yet.”
Kendall had told her enough but hadn’t mentioned Millie. “Try to find out, darling,” Kendall said.
“I’d have more freedom if it wasn’t for that Kate.”
“Ah, the American woman.”
“Yes,” she said.
He’d seen the beautiful American friend of Amelia’s. “Tell me,” he said, “had Blackthorn ever called on her before the announcement?”
“No,” she answered. “Why?”
“It just seems odd to me that there had been no connection between them and suddenly the engagement.” He had Millie locked up, but insurance was always a good idea. Knowing the most he could about Amelia gave him the upper hand.
“It was her grandmother’s wish for her to marry for title. God knows she was bred for it since Amelia arrived ten years ago, showering her with dresses and jewels.”
He gave her a sideward glance. Clearly, she had issues with Amelia. None of which was his concern. “I would think there would be some form of courting before she made her decision.”
“Her grandmother was very insistent she make her choice quickly, so that might have something to do with it.”
“Well, keep an eye on her and see what you can find out.” He faced her and turned her around. Slowly, he lifted her skirt and pulled his breeches down. Thrusting into her, he moved in and out slowly at first, then faster and faster as she moaned . . .