Twilight with the Infamous Earl (21 page)

“Could you please—” Emily began, unable to vocalize her desire for him to get off her. She pushed at his chest. “I need—I cannot breathe.”

And I need for you to go away.

Frost was still aroused, the thick, rigid length stretching her and making her all too aware of him. He stared down at her with an enigmatic expression on his face. On a muttered oath, he carefully withdrew from her. In a belated gesture of modesty, he grabbed the edge of the sheet to pull it over them, but Emily abruptly sat up. She offered him a generous view of her back as she allowed her legs to dangle over the side of the mattress.

She shut her eyes when he tentatively touched her on the back.

“Forgive me.” Frost slipped his arms around her as he pulled her closer, until her backside was pressed against his manhood. His chin lightly rested against the dip between her neck and shoulder. “There is a reason why I do not involve myself with innocents, but all my good intentions seem to vanish whenever you are within reach. I hurt you. It could not be helped, but it is the only part of this night that I regret.”

Emily stared off in the distance, trying to put words to her feelings. How could she feel joy and sadness at once? It would have been simpler if she could blame Frost for stealing her innocence. However, she had enjoyed his kisses and slow, teasing caresses. It had hurt when he had breached her maidenhead, but there were aspects of his lovemaking that she had enjoyed.

Holding him while he found completion within her had been an intoxicating experience filling her with a decidedly feminine power she had been unaware that she could possess.

“You are too quiet.” He nipped her shoulder with his teeth. “That worries me.”

Emily wrinkled her nose at his attempt at humor. “I was thinking that for a ruined lady, I don’t feel much different.”

She was a bit sore, but refrained from mentioning that particular detail to him.

“What’s this?” He shifted her in his embrace. “You’re not ruined.”

“Of course I am,” Emily said, the exasperation in her voice giving it a slight edge. “The path of a lady’s ruination is at the hands of a scoundrel.” She frowned and glanced below his waist. “Well, not precisely your hands. It was your—”

“Enough,” Frost said, cutting her off. “Let me be clear. You are not a ruined lady because you surrendered your maidenhead. In the first place, no one evens knows we have become lovers. And second, I have no desire to share the delightful news in the
Morning Post.
”

Her lower lip jutted out mutinously when he refused to take her seriously. “And what would be that good news, Lord Chillingsworth?”

Frost groaned. “This is about Lucy again, is it not?” When her lips parted, he immediately assumed that old doubts about his connection to her sister had resurfaced, and the leash on his temper snapped. “Have I mentioned how damn infuriating it is to be accused of seducing your sister, when the only Miss Cavell I have bedded is you!”

“I believe you,” she said, sounding equally exasperated. That seemed to mollify him. “And I wasn’t accusing
you
. Though there was little doubt in my mind that Lucy had a lover that was someone other than Lord Leventhorpe.”

Frost stroked her jawline. “You might never learn the gent’s name. Your sister had a look about her that caught a man’s eye. However, you are allowing your guilt to blind you to a few undeniable facts. Lucy was not a paragon. Like you, she was spirited. She was also a vain and needy woman who tried to manipulate those around her to assuage her selfish whims.”

She did not like anyone speaking ill of her sister. “Oh, really? And how were you immune to her charms?”

“Contrary to the rumors”—he laughed—“and my eagerness to lay claim to your delectable body this evening, I do not bed every wench who flirts with me.”

Emily gasped when Frost suddenly pushed her onto her back and pinned her to the mattress with his body.

“I never flirted with you!”

“It would be ungentlemanly to call you a liar.” He kissed her left breast. “Granted, you had good reason to resist me. Just as I tried not to fall prey to your innocent wiles.”

Frost was being outrageous. “Let me up.”

He bit her earlobe and she shivered. “Shall I tell you why I was never inclined to pursue your sister?”

Emily nodded, wholly aware that Frost’s hand was moving lower. “Why?”

“Her beauty paled in comparison to yours.” His wicked grin revealed that she was over her head with this man. “If anyone is ruined, it is I, sweet Emily. Shall I prove it? I promise I will be gentle.”

Emily closed her eyes, trusting Frost to be a man of his word.

*   *   *

Frost was whistling a merry tune as he entered Nox. He credited his high spirits to the past four hours he had spent in Emily’s bed. Although she had been too tender for prolonged lovemaking, he had demonstrated that there were other ways to pleasure a lady. Emily had barely acknowledged him when he reluctantly slipped from her bedchamber.

Instead of heading for the public rooms, Frost climbed the stairs to the Lords of Vice’s private rooms. Berus was usually waiting to greet him and his friends, but the hour was late. Using his key, he unlocked the door and headed for the large saloon. He could not hazard a guess as to how many evenings he and his friends had sought various amusements in this room. The billiards table, in particular, was one of his favorite indulgences. He idly wondered if he could persuade Emily to join him at Nox for a game or two.

Frost’s intriguing fantasy vanished at the sight of Berus sitting in one of the chairs; Dare, Vane, and Hunter hovered over him with worried expressions on their faces.

“What the hell happened?” Frost demanded when he noticed the steward was holding several bloody handkerchiefs against his nose.

Sin entered the room from another connecting door with a glass of brandy in his hand. “Better late than never,” he said to Frost. “I was beginning to think you hadn’t received my message.”

“I didn’t. If you called a meeting, where are Saint and Reign?”

“Downstairs talking to the police,” Dare replied.

Frost strode to Berus and knelt at the older man’s side. In some ways, the man was the closest thing he had to a father. “Let me see,” he asked, taking matters into his own hands by peeking under the bloody linen.

He cursed fluently.

Someone had done an adequate job using his fists on Berus’s face. His nose was broken; there was swelling and a cut under his right eye; his lower lip was twice its normal size and still bleeding; and there was dark bruise forming on the man’s forehead.

“That cut looks bad. It might need a stitch or two,” Frost announced, though he assumed his friends had come to a similar conclusion. “Has a surgeon been summoned?”

“I don’t need a surgeon,” muttered Berus.

“Aye, I sent one of the servants to rouse one from his bed,” Sin said, his eyes simmering with rage. “Vane, why don’t you see if the man has arrived downstairs?”

Vane gave Frost a troubled glance as he walked away to see to his task.

Everyone was tense and grim, and no one was bothering to explain why their steward was trying not to bleed on the carpet. “Does anyone want to tell me what happened?”

Although they tried to run a respectable establishment, there was always an element of danger when volatile tempers, liquor, and gambling losses were part of the nightly entertainment. This evening would not have been the first time that the man had been forced to confront an intoxicated patron.

“It was Halward,” Berus said, his voice distorted by his swollen mouth.

“Someone let him into Nox,” Frost asked in disbelief.

The steward shook his head. “I was lured outside. Someone had set a small fire with brush and rags, and I was worried about the club. I never anticipated it was a trap.”

“The bastard hired pugilists to do his dirty work,” Sin said, the harshness in his voice like a lash. “They dragged Berus away from Nox into the shadows and beat him senseless. One of the patrons found him crawling toward the street.”

“This was a message directed to the Lords of Vice,” Hunter said, his fingers digging into the back of the chair. His knuckles looked almost white. “Halward wants Nox or at least monetary bribes to keep his bruisers away.”

“I say, let him try,” Frost said, preparing to defend the club, even if it meant spilling his own blood. “Halward might feel differently if we paid him a visit.”

“May I speak to you in private?” Sin interjected.

Without waiting for a response the marquess stalked out of the room. Frost patted Berus’s shoulder, noticing that Vane had arrived with the surgeon. “Ah, the good surgeon will patch you up nicely. With luck, any scars will make you more appealing to the ladies.”

The steward smiled, and then winced in pain. Berus waved him off.

Frost stood and followed his friend through the door he had exited. He found Sin in the passageway that led to numerous bedchambers he and his friends had used when they were too deep in their cups to find their way home. The bedchambers had also been used for trysts with countless females since they had opened Nox’s doors.

“You’re worried about Berus,” Frost said, noting his friend’s thunderous expression. “He’s been roughed up, but he’s tough. A few days in bed and he will be fine.”

“This isn’t about Berus,” Sin muttered. He braced his hand against one of the walls and stared at Frost. “Have you ever considered that this attack on Berus might be a sign that it’s time to close Nox?”

“No,” Frost said stubbornly. “Nox belongs to the Lords of Vice. Why would you even contemplate surrendering to that sniveling coward? Halward is a bully, but he’s nothing without his hired muscle. He’s no match for us.”

“So this is what it has come to? Us … battling criminals?” Sin glared at him in anger and incredulity. “Have you thought above your own damn selfish needs? We have wives and children, Frost. People who depend on us to not
die
because we allowed our tempers and pride to cloud our judgment.”

Sin’s accusation stung. “I am not a fool. Nor am I suggesting we carelessly toss away our lives. Nevertheless, I never thought you would blithely hand over Nox to our enemies without a fight.”

“Frost,” Sin said wearily. “There are other ways to battle Halward. Legal ways that don’t involve our people getting almost beaten to death in the streets.”

Frost sneered. “Marriage has made you soft. Six years ago, you would have fought at my side without asking. You would have cut down any man who suggested that you close Nox.” He shook his head in disgust. “I am finished with this conversation.”

“Frost!”

He stepped back into the saloon, and it was apparent that his chat with Sin had not been so private.

“Do you all feel the same way?” He threaded his fingers through his hair and stared defiantly at them. “Are you prepared to close Nox because of the danger Halward poses?”

Their silence was damning.

“Well, then.” A cynical smile twisted his mouth. “It heartens me to know that I can count on my friends. Enjoy the rest of your evening, gents.”

Frost stalked out the door.

*   *   *

The sun had already risen when Emily woke. She was alone. Glancing about the bedchamber, she saw no sign of Frost’s midnight visit.

She sat up and winced.

Dressed in her nightgown, her hand absently covering the tender flesh between her legs, Emily recalled how Frost had taken a dampened cloth and gently washed away the sticky evidence of their lovemaking. She had expected a little blood, some proof that her maidenhead was gone. However, Frost was too skilled as a lover to permit her to suffer. While his claiming had hurt initially, her body had swiftly embraced his manhood, anointing the unyielding flesh with her wetness as he filled her with his seed.

Her breasts tightened at the thought.

Frost had thoroughly ravished her, and she wondered when he would come to her again.

Emily pulled back the sheet, and a piece of paper fluttered to the floor. She climbed down from the bed to retrieve it.

No regrets.

Emily stared down at the words Frost had hastily scrawled. Was he expressing his own feelings or telling her not to feel guilty that she had enjoyed his lovemaking?

She smiled as she walked to her dressing table and slipped his note into a small drawer. Knowing Frost, he was probably ordering her to accept that last night had altered their relationship.

Since her maid had not entered to wake her, Emily assumed it was still early for her family to have awakened. Instead of ringing for Mercy, she slipped out of her bedchamber and walked down the hall to Lucy’s old bedchamber.

Frost’s note reminded her of Lord Leventhorpe’s request for any letters his beloved Lucy might have left behind. With her family asleep, this would be the best time to search for them.

The last time Emily had entered the room, she had discovered her dying sister collapsed on the floor. The unhappy memories had kept her from returning. She turned the doorknob, and the door opened. No one had locked the bedchamber.

Emily entered the shadowed interior and walked to the window. Opening the curtains, she noticed that the maids had kept the bedchamber prepared for guests. The room was spotless, and she felt a sharp pain in her heart at the realization that there was no evidence Lucy had ever slept here.

Or that she had died here.

Emily noted the rug had been replaced, but everything else was the same. She crossed her arms over her chest as she glanced at the furniture, wondering if her mother had removed all of Lucy’s belongings from the room.

A quick search of her sister’s dressing table and the table near her bed had her lips thinning in frustration.

Come on, Lucy … where would you have kept letters that had special meaning for you?

Emily searched the empty wardrobe and an old chest, looked under the bed, even checked under the cushions. Maybe she was searching for something that her mother had already found and packed away. If so, she would approach her mother after breakfast on Lord Leventhorpe’s behalf. The woman had a soft spot for the man who should have been her son-in-law. She suspected her mother would give him any letters that had been tucked away.