He took as much of his weight as he could onto his forearms and began to thrust steadily in and out of her. She watched his face, her eyes betraying every fleeting emotion, the rise of her pleasure, the reflection of his. . . .
He'd made love to more bodies than he could count, but this was different. This was Emily, and whatever happened he would never forget her and how she'd made him feel. She climaxed around his shaft and he stayed still, enjoying the sensation, readying himself to push her even higher.
She came again, her fingernails digging into his shoulders, and he felt his own climax gather at the base of his spine, and just managed to pull out before he spent his seed deep within her welcoming warmth.
He lay over her and waited until her frantic breathing slowed and his own heart resumed its steady thump. She sighed and he rolled onto his back and arranged her over him. Her head fitted neatly under his chin as if she had been made for him.
He had no idea what he should say to her, or how she wanted him to proceed. All he knew was that making love to her was like coming home. . . .
“Ambrose,” she whispered. “Will you ever forgive me?”
“For what?”
“For forcing myself on you like that.”
He smoothed her disordered hair away from her face. “You didn't force me.”
She raised herself up a little so that she could look at him. “I
ordered
you toâ”
He placed his finger on her lips. “I wasn't listening. I was already too busy kissing you and wanting to be inside you.”
She blushed and sank back down onto his chest.
“Still, you mustn't feel as if you are obliged to do anything about me; we can still remain friends.”
“Friends? Don't tell me that you still intend to marry Jack Lennox.”
“Of course not!”
“Then why did you stop me defending you in the kitchen to Christian?”
She sighed, her breath warm against his skin. “I feared that Christian would cast you out.”
“
Christian?
”
“Yes, my half brother, the tyrant who runs the pleasure house to his own impossibly high standards.”
“Christian would never do that to me.”
She shivered. “He is quite terrifying when he is in a rage.”
“That is true, but you forget that I know him very well. After you stormed out of the kitchen with Jack, he gave me his blessing.”
She reared up over him, one elbow planted firmly in his chest. “He did what?”
He fought a smile. “Christian told me that he quite understood your desire to be bedded by a man who knew what he was doing, and that I was an excellent choice.”
She stared at him for so long that he almost forgot to breathe. “But when Jack Lennox spoke disparagingly of me, Christian was ready to strangle him.”
“But Christian
knows
me.”
“He loves you.”
He hesitated. “Does that offend you?”
“No, why should it?”
He held her gaze. “We have been physically intimate.”
“I know that, which is one of the reasons why I thought he would be angry.”
“Which is why you interrupted me. You were trying to
protect
me.”
She nodded and the remaining pins in her hair gave up the struggle and her hair fell down around her shoulders. Ambrose caught his breath and wrapped an errant curl around his finger.
“Is that what brought you here today? The desire to straighten things out between us? I hoped you would come back.”
She sighed. “I did come to see you. I didn't quite expect this.”
“
This
was as unexpected as it was glorious.” He touched her cheek. “I have been selfish, sharing my worries with you. What did you want from me?”
She turned her mouth into his hand and kissed his palm. His cock jerked and he fought the urge to pull her beneath him again.
Her smile went awry and her eyes filled with tears. “I wanted you to help me.”
“Emily, love, I'll always help you.”
She seemed unaware that she was crying, her tears pooling on his chest like clear crystals. “I need to get my mother's last journal back from Thomas Smith.”
He hesitated. “Are you sure you don't want to leave that to your father or Richard?”
“If they retrieve the journal, I will never know if what I fear is true.”
“Emily.” Seriously disturbed now, Ambrose sat up and held her in his lap. “What do you fear, and why would your family conceal anything from you?”
“Because they wouldn't want me to worry my little head about something that happened long ago.”
“What do you think happened?”
She wiped at the tears on her cheeks. “From the letters I have already read, I think my mother was pregnant with me before she allowed my father back in her bed.”
Ambrose enfolded her carefully in his arms. “Are you quite sure about that?”
“Almost certain, and what is worse, Richard knows and doesn't want to tell me.”
“That sounds most unlike him.” Ambrose considered her. “He doesn't usually go out of his way to protect your father.”
“But this time he probably thinks he is protecting me.” She put her hand on his chest. “Will you help me?”
“Of course, I will.”
She gazed at him through her tears, and he thought of how badly her family had misjudged her courage and her maturity. If she wasn't Philip's child, she should at least be told the truth to her face.
“We'll go and find Mr. Smith tomorrow.”
“Thank you.” She hesitated. “I just need to know where I stand.”
“What do you mean?”
Her smile wobbled in the middle. “If I'm not a member of the Delornay-Ross family and merely a gardener's bastard, they can't tell me whom to marry or what to do anymore, can they?”
“It doesn't stop them loving you, Emily, or wanting to keep you safe.”
She leaned against him and buried her face against his chest as if she didn't want to hear his words. “Will you let me stay a little while?”
“Yes.” He laid her carefully down on the sheets and went to lock the door. He climbed back into bed, drawing the blankets over them both.
With a small sigh, she cuddled against him and he drew her even closer. The scent of their lovemaking surrounded him, and he realized he was more content than he had ever been in his life. They hadn't discussed the future, and maybe that was just as well. Both of them had to find their own paths. For the first time in years, Ambrose found himself praying that Emily would find peace, and that their chosen paths would interlock and keep them together for as long as they both drew breath.
Aghast at his thoughts, he dropped a kiss on the top of her head. Hadn't he learned never to hope, never to pray, never to expect anything but the worst? How did he even dare dream of a future with the woman sleeping beside him? He drew in a deep, steadying breath. He dared to dream because he loved her and would lay down his life for her. If that wasn't worth dreaming about, he might as well kill himself and be done with it.
20
R
ichard glanced down at Violet as they waited for Helene and Philip to appear in the drawing room of Knowles House. It was almost the dinner hour, but Richard had decided that the matter was too important to wait until the next day.
“You realize that this plan is bound to fail, don't you?”
Violet patted his arm. “Stop being such a pessimist. I see no reason why anything should go wrong.”
“She's right, Richard,” Jack added as he strolled across from the window. “Where has your spirit of adventure gone?”
“Up in smoke,” Richard muttered. It was all very well to make daring plans, but when they involved the woman he loved, he found he was reluctant to put them into action.
Helene and Philip entered the room, and Richard waited until everyone was seated and the butler had withdrawn before gesturing at Jack.
“Mr. Lennox has some additional information about his family's decision to come to England that you should both hear.”
He waited as patiently as he could for Jack to explain about his grandmother's continued connection to the Royalist party in France, and the twins' own disastrous involvement with Mr. Brown, which had led them to escape to England.
Finally, Jack was drawing to a conclusion. “We had hoped that once Violet gave the necessary information about Mr. Brown to Lord Keyes that the threat would be nullified and that we could stay here safely.”
“But Lord Keyes has disappeared, and Mr. Brown seems to be trying to kill Violet,” Richard added.
“Wait one moment,” Philip said. “Who is Violet?”
“Vincent is Violet,” Helene said serenely. She smiled at the quieter of the twins. “I wondered when you would feel safe enough to reveal your true identity.”
Violet rose and bowed to Helene and Philip. “I never wished to deceive you, or your family, madame. I fear I had little choice in the matter.”
“So it seems,” Philip commented. “Now, how do you think we can help you sort out this muddle?”
Jack cast a wary glance at Richard, who decided it was time to take charge of the conversation.
“There are two ways you can help. Firstly, we need to find out exactly who Mr. Brown is.”
“You don't know?” Helene asked.
“We're not certain, but with your contacts within the government, we hope you can find outâdiscreetly.”
“I am always discreet.” Helene nodded emphatically. “And I am more than willing to expose the identity of this pig who has helped murder so many of my countrymen.”
“Thank you, madame,” Jack said.
“And what else, Richard?” Philip asked.
“I'm hoping that we won't need to do this, but do you remember that horse you rescued from the traveling folk last year?”
“I didn't rescue him, Richard. I offered to keep him until he recovered from his injuries. He was in no state to be traveling the length and breadth of the country. The family will be returning soon, and I intend to give the horse back to them.”
“That is very generous of you.”
“Not really.” Philip shrugged. “The Costello family has saved more than one of my horses with their potions and charms. I was delighted to be able to offer them something in return. I'm still not sure what this horse has to do with the business in hand, though.”
From the baffled expressions on everyone's faces, neither did anyone else. Richard hastened to explain. “The horse can do tricks.”
“What do you mean?” Violet asked.
“He was regularly sold at small horse fairs, and then within a day or so, he would become âlame' or fall with a rider on his back. While his new owners considered what to do with him, he would make his way back to the Romany camp.”
“By himself?”
“With a little help.” Philip fought to conceal a smile. “Of course, as soon as the enraged owner came to find the camp, they would be nowhere in sight, leaving him with no horse and out of pocket.”
“Clever horse,” said Jack with a grin. “But how does that help us?”
“Don't you see? We'll borrow the horse and stage a dramatic accident with you on its back in the park at the height of the social hour.” Richard glanced at his father. “I'm sure you know the right commands to make the horse perform, don't you?”
“I do,” Philip said. “And I'm quite willing to lend you the horse, if you explain exactly why Mr. Lennox needs to have a very public accident.”
Jack sat forward. “That's the easy part, my lord. Mr. Brown wants Violet to kill me.”
Philip focused on Violet. “And you intend to honor that promise?”
“Well, yes and no.” Jack grinned at his sister. “We want to make it look as if I've died, but I'd rather it was just a hoax.”
Philip raised his eyebrows. “Especially as my daughter has just decided to become engaged to you.”
“There is that to consider as well,” Jack agreed. “But having a horse than can perform on demand would be a great asset to our plan.”
“What exactly do you expect to achieve with this daring plot?” Helene asked. “Are you hoping that Mr. Brown will finally reveal himself to Violet, and accept that she is on his side?”
“That's what we hope.”
“And what then?”
“If I finally meet Mr. Brown, I will bring him to justice,” Violet said quietly. “No matter what the cost.”
Richard studied Violet's resolute face. Would he ever get used to the notion that the woman he loved had no intention of allowing him to protect her? It was a frightening concept, and one he still struggled with. All he could do was involve himself with her plans, and try and make sure that they were as perfect as possible.
Philip was speaking again. “I'll send down to Knowles Hall for the horse. He should be with us tomorrow. Will that suit?”
“Thank you, Father.” Richard nodded at Philip, who took the opportunity to walk across to him when Helene turned to speak to the twins.
“You seem surprisingly at ease with all this talk of spies and espionage, Richard.” Philip hesitated. “I fear that Helene was right when she suggested that your years in Europe had not been spent entirely in the pursuit of pleasure.”
“I can't talk about that, sir.”
Philip nodded. “I understand, but might I say that I regret not taking the time to ask you about your experiences? I selfishly assumed that you were solely intent on avoiding me.”
Richard sighed. “At first I was, but I soon realized there were far bigger issues at stake than mine.”
“Did you meet Violet when you were there?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Because when you look at her, I see myself when I met Helene.”
“I met her several years ago in France. I thought she was dead.” Richard raised his eyes to meet his father's. “I love her and intend to marry her, sir.”
“I'm pleased to hear it.” Philip nodded. “She will make you an excellent wife.”
“Even with her checkered past?”
“As if that would matter to me.”
Richard turned to look at Violet, who was smiling at something Helene had said to her. “I'll marry her if she survives the current mess.”
“She'll survive. I'm sure you'll guarantee it.” Philip patted his shoulder.
“It is not quite that simple. If she'd only let me protect her, I'd feel much more certain.”
Philip chuckled. “Good lord, there is no chance of her allowing that. She is just like Helene.” His expression sobered. “And she will come to you on her own terms. The tighter you try to hold on to her, the more easily she will slip through your fingers.”
“I'm beginning to realize that, sir.” Richard nodded to his father. “I'm hoping Helene will find out who Mr. Brown is before we have to execute this ridiculous assassination plan, but I fear it will take too long. As soon as Violet's enemies find out that she is out in public again, I suspect they will come after her.”
Philip patted him lightly on the shoulder. “Then perhaps you should complete your plans as quickly as possible, and be ready for anything.” He started to walk back to Helene. “Now, will you all be so obliging as to join us for dinner? Emily pleaded a headache, so it will just be us.”
Richard hesitated. “Is she all right? She seemed rather upset when I saw her last.”
“She's upset with me.” Philip sighed. “When she has calmed down a little, I'll attempt to explain exactly why I didn't want her to read her mother's last journal. In truth, I've been avoiding the subject. I hoped she would never have to know.”
“There is no need to be concerned, sir,” Richard said quickly. “I told Emily not to worry about pursuing the matter and that there was nothing she needed to know.”
“And how did she react?”
“She was very upset. But Helene and I thought it better if she didn't know about what happened between you and Smith. . . .”
Philip stopped walking. “Good God, no wonder Emily was dismayed when you told her not to worry. That wasn't the reason why I didn't want her to read the journal at all.”
Richard paused beside his father at the door to the dining room. “I don't understand.”
Philip shook his head. “It's not your fault.” He drew in an unsteady breath. “As I said, I should have talked to her about this matter when she reached adulthood. But I never imagined Smith would reappear like some malignant monster to stir the pot.”
“Sir, what exactly are you talking about?”
Philip turned on his heel and walked back into the hall where he met the butler coming toward him. “Burton, is Miss Emily upstairs?”
“I don't think so, my lord. I believe she went out earlier and has not yet returned.”
“Ah, will you ask her to come and see me in my study when she does return?”
The butler glanced down at the letter on the silver tray he was carrying. “If I'm not mistaken, sir, this note is in Miss Emily's handwriting.”
“Thank you, Burton.” Philip took the note and opened it. “She's at the pleasure house and isn't feeling well, so Christian has offered her a bed for the night in the family quarters.” Philip let out his breath. “It isn't ideal, but at least I know where she is.”
Richard took the proffered note and read it through. “If she truly is unwell, perhaps you might wait until the morning to talk to her.”
“I'll do that.” Philip glanced at Richard as he folded the note and put it in his pocket. “I ask for your patience on this matter. I need to speak to Emily first, and then it is up to her if she wishes to share the information with you. All I will tell you is that it changes nothing about how I feel about either of you.”
For the first time in his life, Richard felt as if he and his father were equals, his father neither plaster saint nor sinner, but a complex man who had done his best to play the hand he had been dealt.
“Of course, I'll wait, Father. Now, shall we join the others for dinner, and I can tell you more about our outrageous plan?”
Â
Ambrose waited until he was certain Emily was asleep and got quietly out of bed. He pulled on his breeches and shirt, and made his way down to the kitchen. To his surprise, it wasn't that late, and the staff was still busy coming in and out of the kitchen replenishing the buffet and opening new bottles of wine.
He spied Seamus sitting at the table eating a big plate of chicken and took the seat next to him.
“Would you mind running some errands for me tonight?”
Seamus put down the chicken leg he'd just finished picking clean. “Always willing to oblige you, sir.”
“There's no hurry, so please finish your dinner. When you're done, I'd like you to take a note to Mr. Smith at the Angel Inn, Islington.”
“The rascal who upset Miss Emily?”
“That's the one. He still has one of her mother's journals in his possession.”
Seamus scowled. “Is he staying there, sir? If he is, perhaps I can persuade him to give the journal up.”
“I doubt he is still in residence, and I don't want you to confront him. After you deliver the note, wait and see if someone takes the note on to Mr. Smith and follow him. I'll make sure to give you a lot of coin so they'll deliver the letter fast.”
“I can do that, sir. Anything else?”
“That depends on what happens tomorrow. I'm assuming Mr. Smith won't bring the journal with him to a meeting with Miss Ross.”