Authors: Jo Goodman
South shook his head slowly. "I hope you can defend the Corn Laws better than your marriage, else you will be no help to North's debate."
"I may forgo cudgels, Lord Southerton, and hit you with Malthus."
That threat made South sit up straight and push himself into the corner of the sofa. He kept a watchful eye on Elizabeth over the rim of his glass.
His smile in check, Marchman sipped his port. "Do you still think the thief is among the guests, North? Or someone who takes advantage of the rout to slip unnoticed abovestairs, perhaps from the outside?"
"Either is possible. I remain undecided."
"You still have not explained your interest," Elizabeth said. When the question was met with silence from all quarters, she nodded. "Oh, I see. It is the purview of the Compass Club and I, being without a direction of my own
and
a female, cannot have it explained to me. Very well, gentlemen, I shall excuse myself and let you carry on privately, but if you care to remove my husband from among the suspects, you will encourage him to attend some entertainments without me. I cannot always be his alibi. Now that we are married, no one believes that he is ever with me."
Northam kissed Elizabeth's cheek when she came around the sofa to bid him good night. "And they would be right," he said. "I saw very little of you at Lady Dover's assembly three nights past. Or the Wilmonts' party before that. Your admirers and my mother conspire to keep you away from me."
"That is false, my lord. It is only that you are so concerned with catching a Gentleman that you fail to notice your lady."
"Oh, ho!" South regarded them, one dark brow cocked. "What is this? Do I hear the inklings of a quarrel?"
North and Elizabeth both looked at Southerton, their expressions a mixture of amusement and disapproval. Elizabeth handed the Malthus to her husband. "You hit him with it, my lord."
The entire Compass Club was grinning as they watched her exit the drawing room.
"You are vastly lucky, North," Eastlyn said when the door closed behind Elizabeth. "I own that I find much to admire about your lady."
Marchman raised his glass in agreement. His voice was a shade wistful. "If only she would have walloped South. Now,
that
would have earned my undying favor."
North set the book aside. "I had the same thought."
Southerton's tone was serious. "You've told her nothing about the colonel's assignment?"
"I told you nothing either," said North. "You simply arrived at it on your own."
"I don't see what can be the harm of explaining it to Elizabeth."
"The harm," Eastlyn interrupted, "is that ladies talk." He went to pour himself another glass of port. "I know it for a fact. I would not be in such a coil if Mrs. Sawyer had not spread it about that I had attached myself to Sophie."
"Sophie, is it?" Marchman asked. He blithely ignored Eastlyn's sour look. "Still, you cannot paint all women with the same brush. You must allow that Lady Northam is someone very fine."
"I believe I'm the one who said I find her most admirable. Can't trust 'em not to talk, though. That's the thing."
North held out his own glass and was silent while Eastlyn topped it off.
But you must never trust me.
Elizabeth's soft voice echoed in his head. He wanted to trust her. It pained him that he could not answer her questions. "It has nothing to do with her talking. She would say nothing, not even to my mother, and you all know what pressure can be brought to bear from that quarter." There were immediate murmurs of agreement. "She would, however, involve herself, and that could have no end but a bad one."
South considered that his friend was right. He remembered how impulsively Elizabeth had stepped forward to help North at Battenburn. "She had an interesting point, though. As far as your rep goes, North, you should consider going about without your wife—"
"Bloody hell," North interrupted. "I am in want of seeing her now. She is out driving with my mother or sitting with Lady Battenburn. There are the afternoon teas and literary circles. Morning promenades. Charities. Lectures. I had no idea women could find so much nothing to occupy themselves."
Southerton cleared his throat to prevent his laughter from spilling out. A glance at Eastlyn and Marchman assured him that they were equally amused. Poor, neglected North. He was pitiful. They independently assured themselves the same would never be thought of them. "Surely you can see her point," South pressed on. "If you attend every evening assembly with her, she becomes less effective as your alibi. The Gentleman Thief seems to be taking some care to steal from the very homes in which you are an invited guest. Perhaps by permitting one of us to escort Lady North while you—"
"Certainly not."
"While you stayed home would allay suspicions."
"And what if there is no theft that night?" asked North. "That will certainly make the
ton
wonder."
Southerton raked his dark hair. "Well, then, I'll steal something. Just a trifle, nothing valuable, and I'll have it arranged to be returned as my snuffbox was returned to me. What can be the harm of that?"
"The harm," East was compelled to point out, "is that you could be caught. It would be deuced difficult to explain how you were not really stealing but assisting a friend. Let me or West do it. At least we have some experience with thieving."
Marchman sighed."I wish you would allow me the honor of volunteering my services myself."
"Enough," North said. "It is not going to happen."
* * *
It was quite late when North came to bed. In spite of his adamant opposition to their plan, the rest of the Compass Club would not leave off. No matter what other subjects were offered up for discussion, the conversation always came back to the problem of the thief. Finally North simply let them talk on, neither approving nor objecting to their scheming. Had it not involved Elizabeth he admitted to himself that he might have been amused.
She turned over sleepily as he raised the covers and slipped into bed. Her arm curved around his chest and she snuggled closer, pressing her lips to the nape of his neck. "They kept you up far too long," she murmured. "I could not stay awake."
North raised Elizabeth's hand and kissed her fingers. No matter what the circumstances of their days and evenings, the nights were their own. Elizabeth never turned away from him when he turned to her. She let him love her, and loved him in return without ever saying the words. North never pressed her to speak them, though sometimes he thought they hovered there, just outside her consciousness, waiting for her to open up to the idea of them.
"We did not mean to exclude you this evening," he said quietly, returning her hand to his chest. Her fingers splayed in the soft mat of blond hair that covered him.
"Yes, you did. You cannot help it."
"Then I am sorry for it."
Her smile was a trifle sad. "I know. It is the same for me."
You must never trust me.
The words hung between them. Elizabeth did not know how or when it had come to pass, but North had begun to take her at her word. Sometimes she felt his distance even when he was deep inside her, her body held in his most intimate embrace. She saw a remoteness in his eyes even when his smile was most gentle, a restraint in his touch even when it made her shudder with its tenderness. "I think I am a trifle jealous of them." The words surprised her. She had never dared admit as much to herself and now she had said them aloud. "You are all so very close."
Northam would not allow himself to assume he understood the sentiment behind her words or what compelled her to express it. "Perhaps they should not visit so often."
"No," she said quickly. "Oh, no. I would not have it. I like them very much, and I know they keep you company when I am otherwise occupied."
"Then perhaps you should not be so often otherwise occupied."
Elizabeth realized too late the trap she had laid for herself. "Please. Let us not argue. I am with you now." She kissed his shoulder. Tension ran through the line of his back. "Brendan?"
He turned and unerringly found her mouth. The kiss was hard and hungry, impatient with need, confident of no refusal. She moaned a little at the pressure of his lips, then opened her mouth and gave herself over to him. This, at least, had not changed. She took solace from the fact that she could please him here, that she responded to him in a way that was necessary for his own arousal. He always seemed to know if she was holding back, and it was the one thing he would not allow. His own pleasure required hers; it was the price he exacted for loving her. He would have her surrender.
North's fingers curled in Elizabeth's nightshift, pushing the hem to her thighs. He pressed her knees up and apart. Beneath the covers he found her hand and guided it to his groin. Her fingers closed around his erection. Her hips lifted and then she was drawing him inside her. In spite of her willingness, she was not quite ready for him. She bit her lip when he thrust deeply, but no sound, not even one at the back of her throat, escaped.
"Why do you do that, Elizabeth?" North's whisper was husky. He settled himself against her, not moving, waiting for her body to accommodate his entry. She held him so tightly, it was an agony of pleasure. He leaned forward, levering himself on his elbows. Elizabeth legs immediately wrapped around him. "Why do you let me hurt you?"
"It is nothing."
"It is
not
nothing, dammit." He felt her wince, this time from the harshness of his tone. "Do you think I mean to punish you?"
She did not answer immediately. When she did, her voice was almost inaudible. "Sometimes. Yes."
"God." He closed his eyes and lowered his head, pressing his forehead for just a moment against hers. "Maybe I do. Perhaps it is only that you are more honest than I am." He started to withdraw, but she held him, clasping his hips with her thighs and knees. "Elizabeth, I can't—"
"No, it's all right. I'm ready now. Please. Please don't—" She lifted her bottom a little, pushing into him. "See? I only needed a—" She felt him stir. "A moment," she finished, almost on a sigh. Her hands settled on his shoulders. She caressed him. His skin was smooth, warm. Above her his shadowed features were taut."Love me," she whispered.
Her punishment was that he did.
* * *
Her Grace, the Dowager Duchess of Calumet, had planned a splendid ball. It was easily November's most hoped for invitation, and the Earl and Countess of Northam were among those who received one. It was on this crisp evening, with a hint of snow in the air, that North was finally persuaded to remain home and permit Lord Southerton to escort his wife. He had second thoughts before they were out the door, and nearly charged after the carriage when it began to roll away. Somehow he managed to stay his ground and finally return inside to wait.
Eastlyn and West kept him company. The marquess had declined to attend the ball in favor of staying with North, even though the duchess was a great friend of his own mother's and his refusal had caused some friction there. "Sophie could not go," he told North. "So it is no real sacrifice to stay away."
North and Marchman exchanged glances. They both recollected that at one time Lady Sophia had been considered unexceptional company. Apparently something had changed, at least in Eastlyn's mind if not in Sophie's character.
No invitation had been sent around to Mr. Marchman's residence, which neither surprised nor displeased him. It would have been a sore trial to his stamina to have attended the thing. "Does Lady North know anything about South's plan?"
North's eyes went heavenward. "I can only hope that is not the case. Of course she knows why I am not going; that was her idea. But as to what South will get up to at the ball, she has been told nothing. She would certainly try to talk him out of it—as we did—and failing that—as we did—she would most assuredly get in the way."
"Or give him away," Eastlyn said.
North shrugged, not certain this last was true. He did not want to share with his friends that Elizabeth was very good at not giving things away. "Shall we play cards? I collect it will be a long evening."
* * *
Southerton told Elizabeth he was going to find a card game while she made repairs to a tear in her hem. She warned him to be careful as Battenburn was among the guests and was always looking to reclaim what South had won from him. Unconcerned, since he had no intention of playing cards, South waved Elizabeth off. Laughing, she went in search of a maid who could assist her.
Southerton wandered in and out of several rooms until he found the entrance to the backstairs. He was quite certain that the guests milling in the hall paid no attention to his exit. The music from the ballroom faded as he climbed the stairs. He counted himself fortunate not to encounter a servant. While they would have said nothing to him, they would have certainly remembered his use of these stairs later, especially when it was learned that a piece of her grace's jewelry was missing.
South was aware that he could not know if the Gentleman Thief would strike this evening, but he also could not leave it to chance. In order to clear Northam of suspicion, a robbery had to take place when he could not have committed it. It was most aggravating to the colonel that North's investigation had been compromised and, in the end, North had had little choice but to accept his friends' help.