“I cannot lie about this either. I want you.”
Her fingers curled around the throbbing heat of his shaft and he groaned.
“If this is the truth, Richard,” Violet whispered, “it is just lust, and it means
nothing.
”
“Nothing?” He withdrew his finger from the heat of her core and sucked it into his mouth. “Lust is more than nothing. It is the most basic need a human has, the need to copulate.”
“Don't you mean to procreate?”
“You're a man, now, Violet, and I'll fuck you like one. There is no need to worry about us procreating.”
She shoved at his chest, but he didn't move an inch. “And what if I don't want to fuck you?”
“We've already established that you want me.” His stare was pointed. “But do you want me enough to play by my rules?”
She stared at him, her mind trying to recover from the haze of desire and work out what he was trying to say.
“Are you suggesting I trade my body in exchange for your help?”
“I hadn't thought of it in quite those terms, but I'm quite willing to go along with it.”
“But you'll only fuck me like a man.”
He nodded, his gaze drifting down to her still-open trousers. She wanted to cross her legs to placate the ache there but knew he'd enjoy it too much.
“You'll not betray Jack either?”
“Much as it pains me to say it, no, I will not betray Jack.”
“Then if this is the only way I can persuade you to help us, I will agree to your terms.”
Richard's smile was slow in coming. “Thank you.”
Violet glared at him. “You haven't changed at all, have you?”
He straightened, one hand on the buttons of his trousers. “Oh, I've changed. I'm no longer prepared to take your word for something.” He pulled down his trousers to display the thick length of his cock. “This time I'd like a little something on account before you run off and use me for a fool.”
Richard held his breath as Violet considered him and slowly licked her lips.
“You wish me to suck your cock?”
“What do you think?” He cupped his balls and stroked his thumb along the base of his shaft. He was already wet and more than ready for her.
“You would force me?”
Briefly, Richard closed his eyes. Violet looked far too innocent to be sitting there contemplating his cock. She had such a talent for eluding him, for making him feel like a complete bastard. “How can you ask that? Didn't we just make a bargain?”
“And you want to seal it with my mouth around your cock?”
His shaft twitched at that salacious image. “You were the one who suggested the arrangement in the first place.”
“Only because you . . .” She sighed. “You are impossible. All I wanted was to talk to you and explain my position.”
“And you have done so.”
She raised her chin. “And my
position
is on my knees servicing you?”
“Yes, I believe it is.”
Her gaze measured the length of his cock; then she got down from her seat and onto the floor in front of him. His heart rate sped up and his crown grew even wetter.
“In the humor I am in now, I might just bite it off.”
He wrapped one hand around her neck and drew her close. “If you try it, I'll strangle you.”
“So much for truth,” she muttered, then leaned forward and drew his shaft deep into her mouth and down her throat.
Richard groaned as she started to suck him hard, his hand clamped around the back of her head, his hips joining the pulsing rhythm of her mouth. He knew it wouldn't take long. He'd been primed to have her all night, ready for whatever she would give him, desperate for the touch and taste of her.
He closed his eyes as she used her teeth on his flesh, drawing his whole length in and out of her mouth until he could stand it no longer and he climaxed with a hoarse shout. She released his cock and rested her forehead briefly against his thigh, her chest heaving as hard as his.
With a growl, he dropped to his knees and took her mouth, slid his hand inside her still-open trousers, and pumped all four fingers inside her in a quick and greedy pattern that had her tightening and coming all over his hand, squeezing his fingers and coming again.
Before she'd finished climaxing, he withdrew his hand, picked her up, and dumped her back in her seat. She looked up at him, her face flushed with lust, her blue eyes wild with need.
He slowly closed his trousers over his rapidly recovering cock. Had Violet told him anything that was true tonight? Some of the things had
sounded
sincere and others not at all. All he knew was that he had barely scratched the surface of what was going on with the Lennox twins. His instincts told him something was very wrong, but he had no idea where, or from whom, the threat came from.
Now at least he had a way to connect with her, and to keep her safe. He studied his lover's deceptively beautiful face. And whatever she claimed about wanting to live quietly, she needed to be kept safe. Despite her display of bravado, something was obviously very wrong to have sent her fleeing to England and into the arms of the one man on earth guaranteed to hate her.
Richard put on his fire-warmed shirt and the rest of his clothes. When he was suitably dressed, he turned back to Violet, who had managed to straighten her own clothes quite well.
“Your brother will be wondering where you are.”
“I suppose he will.”
“I'm surprised he didn't come after us.”
She shrugged. “He knows I can take care of myself.”
“If he thinks that, he is a fool.”
She walked to the door. “He probably assumed I was with you. He wouldn't be worried.”
“And why is that? Am I no longer seen as a threat?”
She opened the door and half turned back toward him. “I told him you would never harm me.”
The quiet confidence of her tone annoyed him far more than he had anticipated. “Why, because I am too meek and mild?”
She raised her eyebrows. “No, because you know your own strength, and despite everything you say, or perhaps because of it, you would never hurt a woman.”
“I've hurt women; I've even killed them. You know that.”
“But not me.”
“There's still time.” He took a deliberate step toward her, but she didn't flinch away.
“Richard, if you restrained yourself from killing me when you found out I was still alive, you are very unlikely to hurt me now.”
“Are you saying I've missed my chance?” He shot her a furious glare. “You don't know that.”
She smiled. “Good night, Mr. Ross.”
And she was gone before he could call her back and . . . and what? Demand a chance to kill her? Richard sighed and followed her down the hall. She had no idea how to get out of the more private side of the pleasure house, so she would have to bear his company for a little longer until he could set her free.
7
I have kept him out of my bed for months now, and he is both angry and suspicious. I cannot bear his touch, my love, but I will have to endure it unless all our plans are to fail. At least if I persuade him to bring me back to his country estate, I can be near you in spirit when he completes his loathsome marital duties. . . .
Emily slowly put the letter down and stared at the cramped script. Her mother had tried to avoid her marriage bed with an increasingly annoyed Philip because she already had a lover. Her timid, sickly mother had been far more devious than Emily could ever have imagined. What had possessed her to marry Philip when her heart was obviously elsewhere?
She reached into the wooden keepsake box, took out her mother's diary, and leafed through the pages. There was nothing written on the day the letter had been composed. Emily had noticed that her mother tended to do either one or the other: pour her heart out into her journal or to her lover. It didn't make any sense. From what she knew of her parents, they had been betrothed before her father was sent to India. Her mother, Anne, had often complained that she hadn't enjoyed a proper Season in London because she was already engaged and the expense was considered unnecessary.
So when had she met this other man? Emily contemplated the letter. Unfortunately, there were no addresses on the correspondence. After her parents died, Anne was brought up with Philip's family, which meant that her paramour had to have been encountered at the Ross family country estate.
Could she think of a pretext to go and visit her old home? Since her father's elevation to the peerage, they had moved to the much larger Knowles estate and leased their old home to distant cousins. It wasn't that far out of London. All she needed was for someone to accompany her.
There was a knock on her door and her maid came in. “Miss Ross, there are two gentlemen awaiting you in the drawing room with Mr. Richard.”
“Thank you, Jess.” Emily smoothed down her green skirts and patted ineffectually at her hair. “I'll be down in a moment.”
She tidied the box and locked the contents away in her clothes chest. It was past time to bring the matter to Richard's attention, although she was dreading it. He had a stubborn affection for their late mother, which she suspected merely supplied him with fuel for his disagreements with his father.
As she descended the stairs, she wondered who else had come to call. She thought she'd managed to discourage all but the most determined of suitors from visiting her at home. The three men stood up when she entered, and Richard came across to kiss her cheek.
“Emily, my dear, you've already met Mr. Jack and Mr. Vincent Lennox.”
Jack winked at her as he gravely kissed her hand. “Miss Ross, what a pleasure.”
Emily tried not to smile at him and turned to accept the more conventional greeting from Jack's slighter, quieter twin. She gestured for them to sit, and Richard rang for some tea.
“I'm sorry that Madame Helene is not here to receive you today.”
Jack shrugged, the gesture very French. “We came to see you, Miss Ross. Who else?” He glanced over at Richard, who didn't look quite so amused. “We have been invited to a ball by Lord Keyes's mother. I was hoping that you might be prevailed upon to save me a dance.”
“As was I, Miss Ross,” Vincent added.
“I would be delighted to dance with both of you.” Emily smiled. “I believe the ball is to be held on Friday next.”
“Indeed,” Richard said. “And you can always call on me if you need a partner, Emily, you know that.”
“And I so often lack for partners these days, don't I?” Emily kept her smile firmly in place. “One might almost think that I had deliberately driven them all away.”
She noticed Vincent Lennox hastily conceal a smile. Jack leaned forward, his blue gaze fixed on her.
“I cannot believe that, Miss Ross. If the fools do not choose to dance with you, my brother and I will be only too delighted to exploit their inexplicable blunder.”
“You'll dance with her twice, Lennox, that's quite enough,” Richard interrupted. “Any more will give rise to just the sort of speculation and scandal my sister strives to avoid.”
Jack continued to smile at Emily, and she sat there and pretended to bask in his blatant, if quite false, admiration. It was remarkably invigorating to be the object of such intense interest. If only Ambrose, the true object of her affections, were there to see it.
Richard cleared his throat as the tea was brought in. “Do you wish to pour, Emily?”
“Certainly.”
She distributed the tea in its dainty cups to her guests and picked up her own cup. Richard drank the scalding brew in two quick swallows as if anxious to be done with it. The Lennox twins displayed much better manners. After a short while, she noticed Richard glance at the clock.
“Do you have another appointment, Richard, or am I just boring you?”
He put his cup down with a distracted air. “I'm sorry, Emily, that was very rude of me.”
“I was hoping to speak to you before you left.” Emily held his gaze so that he could see both her sincerity and her determination to make him stay.
“Of course.”
Jack stood, swiftly followed by his brother. “Then we will be on our way. We look forward to seeing you at the ball, if not before. Do you enjoy a walk in the park, Miss Ross? If so, I would be delighted to accompany you one afternoon when it is fine.”
“I would enjoy that
immensely
,” Emily said, aware that Richard was now scowling at the Lennoxes. “Perhaps I might send you a note. I understand that you are staying at Harcourt House.”
“We are.” Jack pressed a hand to his heart. “We await your commands with great anticipation.”
Richard waited until the Lennox twins finished their effusive good-byes, then shut the door firmly behind them.
“Don't get any ideas about Jack Lennox being in love with you, Emily. That man doesn't have a sincere bone in his body.”
Emily pretended to sigh. “Every man meets his match at some point, Richard. Perhaps Jack Lennox is ready to be caught by an exceptional woman like me.”
Richard's expression was not encouraging. “He is a rapscallion and probably a fortune hunter as well. I'd tell you to keep away from him entirely, but I know if I did that, you'd be announcing you were marrying him next week.”
Emily patted the seat next to her and Richard joined her. “I don't want to talk about Jack Lennox.”
“Then what is troubling you, sister?”
As briefly as she could, Emily told Richard about her meeting with Thomas Smith and the box of letters he'd given her.
Richard went still. “Did you meet with this man alone?”
“No, I took Seamus Kelly and Ambrose with me.”
“You told Ambrose about this matter before discussing it with me?”
Emily touched his hand. “I hoped to spare you. I knew you would find it difficult to hear anything about our parents' relationship.”
He went still under her hands. “Are you suggesting there was something in those letters that might offend me?”
“I think you should read them for yourself.”
He removed her hand from his. “I'd much rather you just told me the worst of it.”
She met his gaze. “Are you sure? There is a rather long tradition of the bringer of bad news bearing the brunt of the receiver's displeasure.”
His smile was both warm and encouraging. “I'd never blame you for the mess our father created. Tell me.”
Emily took a deep breath. “That's just the point. It appears from the letters that Mother was the one who had a lover, not Father.”
He actually went pale and then shook his head. “I cannot believe that. She was too sick, too frail, too . . .
pure
to do such a thing.” He rose to his feet and started pacing the hearth rug.
Emily decided it was best to just keep going. “According to her letters, she had the same lover before our father returned from India right up until just before her death.”
Richard stopped pacing and faced her, his expression now unreadable. “And who was he?”
“I don't know. She never addresses him by name, and we don't have his letters to her.” Emily looked down at her joined hands. “I'm sorry, Richard. It must be something of a shock for you.”
“He must have caused this,” Richard said quietly.
“Who?”
“Our father.
He
was the one who made her life miserable; she told us so.”
“But perhaps that wasn't true?” Emily whispered. “Perhaps she sought to make excuses for her own behavior?”
Richard turned away from her, one hand raised in instinctive denial. “I can't believe that.”
Of course, you can't
. Even as she thought it, Emily realized she would never say it to her distraught brother. He hadn't lived at home all year as she had. He'd only seen their mother when he'd come back from school. She'd done her best to win him from his father.
“Where is this Thomas Smith character hiding himself?”
“He isn't hiding. He is residing at a perfectly respectable London inn at the Angel Islington.”
“I'll seek him there, then.”
Emily rose to her feet and blocked his path. “You will not do so alone. He asked to see me, not you. You don't even know what he looks like.”
“I can ask Ambrose.”
Emily stamped her foot. “You will do no such thing! Firstly, you will read the letters and Mother's journal yourself, and then we will go and meet with Mr. Smith
together
.”
The cold fury died on her brother's face, making him look more like himself. He let out his breath.
“All right, Emily. You deserve to be there as much as I do. Give me the letters to read, and if I agree with your conclusions, we will visit Mr. Smith together.”
Â
Ambrose walked through the main salon in the direction of the buffet table, intent on checking the condition of the food. The pleasure house prided itself on offering the best food and drink in London, and it was Ambrose's task to ensure that reputation continued.
It was also his task to make sure that any leftover food was distributed to the staff and to the poor of London, a job he found far more satisfying than watching the rich gorge themselves. He deliberately sought out orphanages and slums stuffed full with ever-growing families. It made him feel less ashamed of his pampered and protected existence.
A shriek of laughter to his left made him look up just in time to catch a half-naked woman in his arms who was being pursued by a man. The woman clung to him, still laughing back at the man who came to a stop and grinned down at her.
“Come here, my beauty!” There was the hint of an American accent to the man's speech.
“No, I won't!”
The protest was uttered in such a way as to be meaningless. Ambrose started to set the masked woman on her feet and step away.
“Ma'am.”
The woman gasped and stared right at him.
“Is that blackamoor's face scaring you, my love? Is he being impudent?”
The man shoved at Ambrose's shoulder. “Cast your gaze down, slave, don't you dare to presume to look at her.”
Ambrose continued to stare at the mottled red features of the American.
“We do not have slaves in England. I am a free man who may look at any woman he pleases.”
“Damn your impudence!” The man raised his arm and Ambrose caught his wrist in a hard grip.
“Please don't cause a scene, sir.”
“I'll cause any damn scene I like,
boy
. Where's the manager of this place?”
Ambrose smiled. “I'm the manager, sir.” He nodded to Seamus Kelly and his brother, Patrick, who had appeared behind the American. “Please remove this gentleman from the establishment and make sure that he is barred from the premises for life.”
Ambrose ignored both the man's blustering and his continued crude insults as to the color of Ambrose's skin as he was led away. Instead, he turned to the woman who remained standing beside him.
“I apologize for the disruption, ma'am. Perhaps you might find someone else to enjoy your evening with?”
Her hand moved to her mouth. “He should not have spoken to you like that, as if you were . . . not even human.”
Ambrose half smiled. “In America, I am not considered human. He cannot help what he has been taught to believe.”
“That is very generous of you.”