CamillasConsequences (16 page)

“Considering your rigid views about love, I want you to think carefully about our relationship. I am not one to obey rules, and you are overly fond of them, my dear. You allow them to control your life.”

“Samson’s death hardened me, but you have shown me the power of forgiveness, and I realize change is necessary.”

“You cannot spend the rest of your life blackmailing men who have mistresses.”

No? Yet so many men need to be punished for their sins. What shall I do instead? “I have to consider my future. One thing is certain, however. I want you to be part of it.”

Hephaestus folds me into his arms, and I release his member most reluctantly. My pearl quivers with need, so I place my arms around his waist, clamp his thigh between my legs and shamelessly rub myself against him. He chuckles and encourages me by gripping my hips and following my movements.

I look up at him teasingly. “There are many ways to pleasure a woman. You need not take my virginity.”

His lips brush mine. “Lust becomes you, Camilla.”

My cheeks grow hot. Hephaestus skillfully removes my garments, and once I am nude, my frenzied rubbing continues. I feel his skin against mine, his warmth against me, as though I am standing by a fire on a cold winter’s night. He is soft and solid and hard all at once. My left hand drops to his buttocks, while my right returns to his cock, stroking it lovingly. Hephaestus moans, and I smile. He tightens his hold on my hips.

“Savor the sensation, my sweet.” He nuzzles my ear. “Make it last. Do not be so hasty to attain release.”

He sets a new rhythm for me, controlling the movement of my hips, and I rub in slow, sinful circles. Better, so much better. My pleasure intensifies. How will it feel when Hephaestus makes love to me for the first time? Closing my eyes, focusing on his powerful grip on my body, I imagine him laying me down on the bed and climbing on top of me. He covers me in kisses, first tender, then passionate, then with bites that make me gasp and cause my pulse to race. He lies between my thighs, spreading them wide, and I wrap both legs around his waist, waiting, wanting, yearning for more. I need to know what it feels like to have a man inside me. His lips pause over my nipples. His tongue licks them, tastes them, and his strong hands knead my breasts.

I rub myself faster on his thigh, and my release comes quickly, the sensation mounting to a crescendo, increasing in strength, increasing still. Stronger and stronger, the feeling grows until a moan escapes my throat. The orgasm diminishes in intensity, and I keep rubbing myself, enjoying the final moments. Spent, I rest my head against his chest.

“Hephaestus,” I whisper. “It was heaven.”

“You have not truly tasted heaven. Wait until you offer yourself to me.”

“And you will make me yours? Then I will experience the flames of paradise?” For my desire burns brighter every time I see him.

He laughs at my wordplay and kisses the top of my head. After clinging to my virginity for so many years, I quiver in anticipation of giving myself to Hephaestus.

“Now put on your shift,” he says. “I fear if you sleep nude you will tempt me into all sorts of debauchery.”

I slip into my best nightdress and when I return to bed, he is already under the covers, nude, waiting for me. He raises the bed sheets to allow me in. I turn onto my side, and his body curls against mine, his member hard and insistent against my backside. His powerful arms envelop me, and I have never felt safer than I do now.

“Sleep well, my love,” he whispers and kisses my neck.

“Good night, Hephaestus.” I cannot wait for the morrow to be upon us.

The following evening, long after dark, Hephaestus and I sit in comfortable silence in the parlor, which Ursula has brought to life by removing the white sheets and adding vases of blood-red camellias on the mantle. The room smells of chamomile, and I pour another cup of tea for Hephaestus.

Devlin is now running an errand to inquire what has become of Fitzwellington. I am deeply worried, for Hephaestus cannot remain here indefinitely as my protector, and my home is no longer a sanctuary. I will not feel a sense of security until I discover how the letter came to appear on the vanity. Although my resolve has weakened, I will not permit a man to defeat me.

“Allow me.” Hephaestus pours more tea into my fine china cup.

How courteous of him. I sent Ursula to bed long ago. “Thank you. It is reassuring to have you spend the night here once more.”

“What will the owners of the neighboring estates say?”

“They are a good distance away, but I fear they may notice your prolonged visits. I can imagine the gossip.” Unfortunately, that gossip may jeopardize my friendship with Lady Aldridge.

“Is society’s perception of you all that matters?”

“No, but…it is of importance. I do not wish to be ostracized, especially so soon after beginning to break free from my isolation.”

Outside, the dogs erupt into frantic barks. Devlin must have arrived. The knocker raps loudly five times, and the automaton opens the door and escorts Devlin into the parlor. His ill-fitting overcoat falls halfway down his thighs, all the better to hide his pockets, I suppose. He seems oddly serious this evening, as if preparing to deliver unwelcome news.

“Well?” I finger the stem of my cup. “What of Fitzwellington?”

“As best I can tell, he’s onboard the
Eastern Star
and bound for Hong Kong.”

I take a long sip of tea to settle my nerves. “How is it possible? A letter arrived yesterday, as though by magic.”

“I asked if he might have paid somebody to put the letter in your house, but I don’t think so.” He glances quickly at Hephaestus.

“Then what is happening here?” I drink more of the sweet tea, but it fails to soothe me. “Who was in my house? How did he enter? Hephaestus, have you any idea?”

I gesture for Devlin to sit down, but he shakes his head. The grandfather clock chimes midnight, and I start. The sound echoes loudly in the foyer. A moment later, the knight comes to life, creaking and clanking across the floor toward the parlor. But no one has knocked at the door.

“Is the automaton malfunctioning?” I gaze questioningly at Hephaestus, whose attention is riveted to his invention.

The knight halts before the table, all its metal parts winking and gleaming in the lamplight. Its right hand reaches for its chest, presses hard, and a metal panel springs open. Iron fingers reach inside the hollow space, pull out an envelope and place it next to the teapot.

My hand shakes so much that tea spills from my cup. I stare at the familiar envelope, and the knight pivots on its heel and returns to its place by the door. My skin turns cold. I am numb. So numb.

“You,” I say to Hephaestus, almost choking.

“Yes.” Hephaestus pushes his teacup away and leans forward.

His bulk looms over me. “How is it possible? We had not even met when the first letter arrived.” My thoughts run wild. I seize the envelope, the fourth I have received until now, and tear it open.

DO YOU NOT KNOW WHO I AM? YOUR FORTUNE WILL SOON BE MINE.

“The handwriting is the same as the third letter. But the others, they were different.” Hephaestus has a partner. Is it Fitzwellington? I think back to the first two messages, which came from the post and not the automaton.
The devil will come for your soul
.
The devil.
“Devlin.”

Mussed hair falls over the boy’s forehead, and he nods slowly. By ignoring Devlin’s needs, I shaped him into the type of man I feared he would become. Oh my God. Then I paired him with Hephaestus, who hinted we had met before.

“You and your riches.” Devlin’s eyes flash. “How many times did I ask you for work? Proper, respectable work! Do you know what it’s like on the street, thievin’ every day, never knowin’ if that’s the day you end up in prison.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry don’t mean nuthin’! You live here all alone in your big house while the rest of us is sleepin’ in alleys and beggin’ for coppers!” He stands rigidly, his hands shoved into the pockets of his threadbare coat. “The day you got me to distract the woman at the post office, and then all those Panoptographs o’ Neville Mountbatten showed up in weddin’ invitations, I started to figure out what you was doin’.”

“I should not be surprised that you discovered my scheme,” I say softly. “You were always exceptionally bright.” Nevertheless, I did not send him to school, did not offer him gainful employment, did not make any attempt to remove him from his poisonous environment.

“He is an astute young man, and we spoke of you a great deal,” says Hephaestus. “Do you remember where you saw me, Camilla?”

“Honestly, I do not.” It is the truth.

“Have more tea.” He pours me another cup.

Reluctantly, I take a sip, and the liquid scalds my lips.

“Let me tell you about myself. I studied art in Italy for two years. After completing my studies, I arrived at my father’s home, and I saw a woman exit the front door.”

“Your father? I do not know anyone by the name Alighieri.” Since Hephaestus is merely a metallurgist, his father must be a member of the middle class, and I rarely have dealings with such individuals.

“I took the name Hephaestus Alighieri after my father lost everything he owned.” He leans forward and grips my wrists so hard I fear they will bruise. “My father was Baron Laurence McDermott.”

I swallow, and Hephaestus releases me. Oh no. It cannot be. Then I remember. As I walked out of the sprawling manor, proudly clutching the heart-shaped pendant the Baron so reluctantly placed into my hands, a carriage drove up. Preoccupied with my new conquest, I did not pay much attention to the young man in the window who tipped his hat and bid me good day. Hephaestus.

“I want revenge against the person who ruined my family.” His obsidian eyes cut me to the bone. “That person is you, Camilla.”

I am lightheaded, my heart pounds and my fingers have difficulty gripping the cup. “Your father ruined himself.”

“With your help.”

“Let me explain.” For there are so many details to expound upon.

“No. At first, when you asked me to repair the pendant, I was not certain you were the woman I sought, for it was many years ago, and I did not see your features clearly underneath your veil.” Hephaestus removes the aetherical communicator from his pocket and pushes it across the table. “But when you showed me this device, I knew you were responsible for Father’s downfall, because this is his invention.
He
owned the patent, and he spent years toiling in his laboratory, honing his idea into a workable model.”

My muscles feel oddly relaxed. Too relaxed. I cannot sit upright anymore. I am about to slide off my chair.

“You asked me to follow men sometimes,” says Devlin. “But did you know I followed you too? I followed you to an apothecary’s once, at the edge o’ the Warren. After you left, I went in and asked what you bought.”

The curare derivative. I sway and fall to the floor with a thud. Hephaestus rises from his chair and swiftly strides to my helpless form. I must get away from him. My legs bend at the knees, but no more. My arms rise weakly, but I do not have the strength to push myself into a sitting position. To think I allowed him to share my bed. He doesn’t love me.

He is deceitful and vengeful.

Exactly like me.

Weak as a newborn, I stare up at Hephaestus, whose fiery rage consumes him. His face hovers inches from my own.

“Did you use this drug on my father?”

My mouth moves. Nothing comes out.

“Did you?” he shouts.

“Yes.”

“Do you know what happened after you left our house and took everything we owned?” He tears the pendant from my neck. “This was the first piece of jewelry I ever fashioned, a gift for my cousin Lexadora.”

Lexadora, the cause of his father’s downfall.

“I will give you what you are owed, Camilla.” His voice rasps in my ear. “Punishment.”

The word strikes like a bolt of lightning, and I can barely breathe.

“Devlin, return to the workshop,” Hephaestus orders. “Remain there until morning.”

“Yes sir.” He walks away, not giving me another glance.

“Please believe me, Devlin,” I call weakly after him, but I do not think he hears me. “I never meant to—”

The front door clacks shut. Hephaestus crouches by my side, the pendant trapped in his giant fist. “This morning, while you slept, I looked in your wardrobe and found a black handbag filled with unusual implements. I also read documents sent to you by Lord Aldridge. I called on him today, and although he acted quite ashamed and refused to reveal all, he gave me a few shocking details about the type of blackmail you engage in.”

My world is unraveling. Hephaestus knows all my secrets, every shameful one. He slings me over his shoulder as though I am no more than a sack of grain, and the air whooshes from my lungs. He carries me upstairs, my arms and legs hanging limply. He unlocks the doors, stretches me across the bed and fetches my handbag from the wardrobe. I should have hidden it better. Memories of my conquests flash through my head—the loud
whack
of the paddle, the
zap
of the prod pole and the cries for mercy. Now it is my turn to feel the sting of revenge, and at the hands of the man I had hoped would share my future.

“I thought you were in love with me, Hephaestus.”

He drops the handbag beside the bed. For a moment, his face softens and I glimpse the man who seduced me at the opera house. Then his features cloud and become vengeful. I recognize the look well, for I have seen it in the mirror time and time again. Keeping silent, he opens the clasp on my bag.

“Please answer me.” I can barely turn my head. A strand of hair falls over my cheek, and I am helpless to remove it. “My feelings for you are genuine. Were your proclamations of love merely a ploy to entrap me?”

Without answering, Hephaestus rummages through the handbag and pulls out my three-inch knife. Why did I not foresee this possible turn of events? I should have been more careful and thoroughly investigated his past. I certainly had the skills to do so, and I have delved into the histories of every man I have ever hunted down. Love blinded me. My heart beats in a slow, sluggish rhythm. I cannot even roll on my side to get away. My limbs are heavy, lethargic. How much longer until the drug loses its effect? Until then, I am at his mercy.

“Stop this folly before you go too far,” I tell him. “Let me explain what happened. The evidence is in the cabinet. Look for yourself. You did not see it yesterday. The Panoptograph is on the bottom shelf.”

“You think I want to see my father carrying on with a woman?” His teeth grit together, and he brandishes the knife. “I will tell you my story, and I will mete out your discipline as I do so.”

My implements of pain are varied and plentiful, and I hope Hephaestus has not found them all. “Look in the cabinet,” I plead. “Please look in—”

“You are arrogant, living here in your mansion, passing judgment on others. Who are you to judge others? You are flawed.”

“I am.” Before meeting Hephaestus, I would never have admitted my failings.

Lips set in a grim line, his muscles tense, Hephaestus straddles me, rubbing against my mound as he does. He seizes the front of my blouse and holds the knife against the fabric. My breath catches in my throat and I cringe. The blade slices through the thin material, continuing to the overcorset. He tears off the overcorset and tosses it aside.

“Stop!” I remember all the men I punished, how they pleaded to be released. Baron McDermott had little tolerance for pain, and the white flesh of his buttocks bloomed red after the first lash of the whip. Will I be the same? My teeth grit together as I imagine lashes striking my tender flesh. No one has ever castigated me. I have always been in control.

“You have sins to atone for.” The blade slices several more inches of my blouse, and I quiver as Hephaestus traces his fingers over my bare shoulders. Although my muscles are paralyzed by the drug, my skin senses the slightest touch.

“My father was a well-respected aristocrat, a man of influence and an inventor. Although I did not spend as much time with him as I wished because of his obsession with science, he raised me well. My mother is the one who nurtured my artistic gifts, and she passed away from consumption when I was fifteen.” Another flash of the knife, Hephaestus rips away more fabric, and my blouse lies in tatters by my side. “As my family’s only heir, I should have taken over our holdings, but I had no interest. Ultimately, Father agreed to send me to Rome, where I studied art. I left him and my cousin Lexadora behind.”

“I know about Lexadora,” I say. “She came to live with you when her parents passed away from the same disease that claimed your mother.”

“Do not speak of her!” Hephaestus growls and seizes me by the throat. A vein throbs in his neck. “You have no right!”

Closing my eyes, I sink deep into myself. My chest heaves up and down with my frantic breaths. There seem to be only two choices. I can lie here and cry and plead and beg and shout, or I can accept my punishment. For do I not deserve to be punished for all I have done? Suddenly I see Aldridge, how he struggled and flailed at first, and in the end surrendered to me. Perhaps he regretted the pain caused by his actions and felt the need for purification.

I need to accept responsibility, because my actions had repercussions on others, which I rarely considered. Samson died because of me. Why, my actions in his regard are akin to murder. A court of law might even call it so. What of Fitzwellington’s wife and children, now social outcasts? I forever altered the course of their lives, for the wife now bears the stain of her husband’s immoral actions. What of Devlin, whose needs I blatantly ignored? There must undoubtedly be others. There must be, for I have been an avenger for years.