Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Reid wasn’t being pleasured, yet he was about to spill in his trousers.
The sight of his wife writhing against his hand in the bath, her round breasts bobbing beautifully in the water, had his stiff cock weeping. He’d always known her dowdy dress hid a treasure of secrets. But by God, her skin was pale, soft and smooth as alabaster.
“I’m so hard for you, Sofia.”
Candlelight caressed the delicate curve of her thigh. Mesmerised, he watched her expressions as he stroked her sex. Her pillow lips parted on a sensual moan, the sight adding to the uncomfortable bulge in his trousers.
He remembered the first time his body hardened when he looked at her, when she was oblivious to him sitting in a booth in Pickins coffeehouse and sat engrossed in her sacred journal. The first slide of the pencil across her luscious lips had been his undoing.
He experienced a similar stirring whenever she asked probing questions, and when they kissed like lovers who’d been parted forever.
But this … knowing he was responsible for her greedy little pants … was the most arousing experience of his damn life. Only a fool would name him the seducer. She brought him to his knees at every turn.
As if to prove he was a slave to her wants and desires, she reached for him, cupping his neck, drawing him to her breast.
He settled his mouth over her nipple, teasing the peak before sucking long and deep. The air about them crackled, alive with a wild energy.
“I need more of you, Reid.” She grabbed his hair in her small fists. “Don’t … don’t stop touching me.”
He was half in the water, his face and hair wet, the sweet taste of jasmine on his lips. Hell, if she wrapped her fingers around his shaft, he’d come in an instant.
“Look at me,” he demanded, rubbing her bud with his thumb and sliding two fingers inside her. “I want to watch you come, Sofia.”
She cupped his cheek, each breath coming faster than the last. Her whole body convulsed, her eyes fluttering closed as her muscles clenched around his fingers. “Reid.”
“That’s it, love. Hug me hard.”
Beauty shone from her as she arched her back against the pleasurable waves. Candlelight shimmered across her wet skin, each water droplet glowing like liquid gold.
Sofia opened her eyes, drawing him into the velvety green depths. A blissful smile touched her lips. “If this is how you treat hysteria, I may require a daily appointment.”
“I’ll make it a morning ritual.”
Her hand slipped to his shoulder. Her sweet hum of approval said she liked exploring the shape of his muscles. “Shall I touch you, Reid? Consider it training for when you trust me with your male patients.”
He might have laughed but a sharp stab of jealousy pierced his heart. “We’ll save that for our next illicit encounter. Rothley will be wondering where the hell we are.”
“Rothley!” She sat bolt upright. “Good Lord. He’ll be furious.”
Reid struggled to tear his gaze from her breasts. “Rothley may seem annoyed, but he’ll relish the chance to tease us.” He stood and offered his hand. “Let me help you out of the bath.”
When she rose in the water, a sweet tremble of nerves on her lips, thoughts of making love dissipated. An ugly vision gripped him—her being paraded at auction before a group of depraved men.
He reached for the towel, wrapping it tightly around her shoulders and rubbing her arms dry to chase away his fears.
Mistaking his attentiveness for guilt, she rested her damp palms on his bare chest. “I wanted you to touch me. I urged you to do so and regret nothing. Everything that happens between us is beautiful.”
The last statement roused something fierce inside him. A raging need to protect her, to protect this invisible bond that grew stronger by the day.
His throat tightened as he helped her step out of the bath. “I’m myself when I’m with you.”
He didn’t know what that meant.
He hadn’t the time to consider it either because the clang of the dinner gong rang in the distance, not once but three damn times.
“We’re so late,” Sofia groaned, snatching his clothes off the chair. “Quickly, put on your shirt before I call Mrs Boswell. She’s going to know we’ve been intimate.”
He reached for her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze before dragging on his shirt. “She’ll think we’ve done more than kiss.”
If Mrs Boswell did, she gave no indication.
She shooed him from the room while issuing orders to the flustered maids. “You’ll have to braid her hair. It’s so damp the pins won’t hold.”
Amid a cacophony of hurried complaints and rustling fabric, Reid dressed and waited for Sofia on the landing.
Half an hour later, she appeared wearing an elegant red gown that skimmed every curve. Her braided hair was coiled high in an elegant bun at her crown, a few tiny red roses tucked into the plait.
“You look beautiful, Sofia.” The ruby pendant drew his gaze, the red teardrop resting above the lush curve of her breasts. “Lock the adjoining door tonight,” he whispered, the need to make her come again firing vivid images in his mind. “After our amorous interlude in the bathing chamber, I don’t have the strength to stay away.”
She leant into him, the smell of jasmine filling his head. “I left my spectacles on the dressing table. I might enter your bedchamber by mistake.”
“By mistake?”
“Particularly if it’s dark.”
He pictured himself naked on the bed, anticipating the first touch as she groped at the coverlet. “Should you encounter something thick and hard, know I left the pestle in the dispensary.”
“Good. I’m interested in examining your other tools.”
They were laughing when they entered the dining room.
“Ah! The newlyweds have dragged themselves from the bedchamber,” Rothley said, sounding more amused than irritated. “The soup is cold. I’m only glad the countess suggested we start without you.”
Hiding his shock upon seeing other guests seated around the walnut table, Reid inclined his head and inwardly groaned. “You never mentioned hosting a dinner party.”
“Did I not?” Rothley faked a frown. “A wedding is something to celebrate, and I’m hardly rousing company.”
The Earl and Countess of Berridge and Mr and Mrs Daventry greeted them, offering their felicitations for the servants’ benefit. The curious glint in the ladies’ eyes said they knew exactly why he and Sofia were late.
Sofia stiffened beside him, her cheeks turning the same vibrant shade as her gown. “Sorry if we’ve spoiled your dinner. We’ve hardly had a moment to breathe since we arrived.”
“No,” Rothley said with an amused sneer. “It’s surprising how exhausting dressing can be.”
“Ignore him.” Lady Berridge beckoned them to the empty seats flanking Rothley at the head of the table. “We were all running a little late tonight. And it must be at least a quarter of a mile to the upstairs chambers.”
“Should I have sent a sedan?” Rothley mocked.
Two footmen drew out the chairs, served the soup and poured the wine. After Rothley complimented Sofia and admired his mother’s ruby pendant, the conversation turned to the other reason Daventry had come.
“I have important news which cannot wait until tomorrow.” Daventry cut a striking figure. His sharp mind and dangerous air made people sit up and take notice. “Assuming you’re happy to discuss the investigation here.”
“It will save a trip to your office tomorrow,” Reid said.
“Before we continue, I have something you may need.” From the seat beside Sofia, Daventry retrieved a folded document and handed it to her. “Read it, but mind what you say in company.”
Sofia glanced at Reid before unfolding the missive and scanning its contents. Her eyes widened, though he couldn’t tell if she was excited or afraid. She handed Reid the paper, a slight tremble in her fingers.
He suppressed a gasp. It was a special licence signed by the archbishop. It bore their names, residencies and cited the private chapel at Studland Park as the authorised location for the ceremony. “How the devil did you get this?”
A smug smile settled on Daventry’s lips. “The Church refuses to allow an aristocrat to meddle in ecclesiastical affairs and agreed to abide by the law of the land.”
The countess cleared her throat. “I explained the problem to Mr Daventry last night and agreed to fund the cost of the … document … if granted.”
Reid could not permit her to pay for the privilege of him marrying. “I appreciate the gesture, but I’ll have the funds sent to you tomorrow.”
The countess looked at Sofia, a warm smile touching her eyes. “There’s no need. The ladies of The Jade are important to me. The gift is for Sofia, along with a ticket for a packet ship sailing from Greenock to New York in a fortnight, should she need to escape.”
“A lady must have options,” Mrs Daventry added.
An uncomfortable ache settled in Reid’s chest. He didn’t want Sofia to leave. He didn’t want to be a puppet, either, with other people pulling their strings. Everyone seemed to think they had a right to dictate the course of their lives.
“Only if those choices are her own.” He looked at Sofia, dressed in clothes and jewels that didn’t belong to her and wearing expensive perfume. A facade he had helped to create.
She was never more beautiful than when grinding herbs and flower petals. When she wore her old dress and homemade scent and asked intriguing questions.
But the desire to speak to his wife and elicit her opinion was overshadowed by Daventry revealing important information.
“As to other news,” Daventry began, his tone grim. “The Merricks have returned from their trip to Scotland. Mr Merrick visited the solicitor this afternoon and asked about the details of your dowry.”
Sofia paled. “Then time is against us.” She glanced at her soup and gulped. “They’ll search every back alley in London looking for me.”
“Don’t worry about the Merricks,” Reid said, his hatred for the strangers like acid stinging his tongue. “They can’t hurt you.” It wasn’t true. They could hurt her in ways he dared not imagine.
Her weak smile was a flimsy mask to hide her unease. She faced Daventry. “Mr Merrick is not my guardian. He has no legal right to make an enquiry. The details are confidential.”
“He gave quite a persuasive argument.”
“You mean he used his fists,” Aaron Chance said.
“My agent found Mr Waters cradling bruised ribs and a guilty conscience. He told Merrick no claim had been filed. No one had sought evidence for a marriage contract.”
“What did Judith say?” Sofia asked, looking shaken.
Daventry shrugged. “Merrick went alone.”
“Alone? But she never leaves his side.”
“Might we eat while we talk?” Rothley instructed the footmen to remove the soup dishes before serving himself a fricando of veal and sweet bread.
Once they had filled their plates from the ten platters on the table, Daventry returned to the topic of Judith Merrick.
“Since the incident at the Hare and Hounds, I’ve had someone watching the house in Dean Street.” Daventry paused to sip and savour Rothley’s finest claret. “The Merricks returned home yesterday morning, just after dawn. The jarvey picked them up from The White Horse in Fetter Lane.”
“Yes, they took the stage from The White Horse two months ago.” Sofia sat rigidly, every taut line on her face showing disdain for her step-parents.
“Within thirty minutes of the Merricks arriving in Dean Street, the cook and housekeeper scurried out the front door, their carpet bags tossed to the pavement.”
Sofia clutched her hand to her chest. “Judith must have learned of my escape and blamed Mrs Pugh. Though I’m surprised she got rid of them. Judith is lazy by nature and wouldn’t dream of washing her own stockings.”
Daventry removed a notebook and pencil from his pocket and scribbled something on the page. “If Mrs Pugh was dismissed without notice, where would she go?”
Sofia thought for a moment. “Her sister lives and works at The Castle Inn on Wood Street, and you’ll find her brother at the cooperage on Great Hermitage.” With a thread of enthusiasm, she added, “I could visit both places tomorrow. See if either of them knows why the Merricks threw Mrs Pugh out.”
The guests exchanged nervous glances before Rothley dabbed his mouth with a napkin and said, “This Merrick fellow needs a good thrashing. I say we beat him, hide him inside a wooden crate and put him on a ship for Calcutta.”
“Men like Merrick always find their way home,” Aaron Chance warned. “There’s only one way to dispose of him for good. Merrick needs to feel the sharp press of steel against his throat.”
Plagued by a rising annoyance, Reid growled, “I will deal with Merrick if the time comes. I’m quite capable of protecting my wife.”
Killing a man was a last resort.
“If I could just talk to Mrs Pugh,” Sofia began.
“I’m not sure that’s wise,” the countess said, worrying her lip.
“Mrs Pugh is rarely sober. She’ll be no threat.”
“I’ll have one of my agents deal with the matter,” Daventry said.
Reid waited for Sofia to argue her case, to see the fiery passion that lived beneath her calm mien, but she glanced at the salmon on her plate and sighed.
Daventry cut into his veal. “Regarding the murder at the Hare and Hounds. The witnesses claim a disgruntled husband killed O’Connor. They believe he entered and exited through the woods.”
“It doesn’t explain how O’Connor had my calling card.” Had Reid left it in his pocket and dropped it by mistake? Was the murderer hoping to cast the blame at anyone’s door, or was this a personal vendetta?
“The magistrate wanted to post a reward for information. I persuaded him against the idea. Many innocent men have hanged so a pauper can line his pockets.”
“I assume you questioned the serving wench,” Sofia said.
Daventry nodded. “A constable did. She never left the inn. She said she barely has time to breathe, let alone talk to punters.”
Sofia’s brow rose, and a spark of curiosity lit her eyes. “When I was forced to serve drinks at Judith’s rowdy parties, I kept my head bowed and hardly spoke, yet heard many vile conversations. None of which are repeatable.”
“Perhaps the wench might speak to a woman,” Reid suggested.
Sofia smiled. “Precisely.”
“My agents know how to tease information from a witness,” Daventry began, “but I’ll do as you suggest and send a woman to question the serving wench.”
Sofia’s eyes dulled, and she looked deflated.
It was obvious she wanted to question the wench herself.
Reid stood, much to everyone’s surprise. “If you’ll excuse me. I would like to speak to my wife alone outside.”
He rounded the table and offered Sofia his hand.
She went with him, saying nothing until they entered the library, a grand room with dark polished wood, red velvet furnishings and mullioned windows.
He closed the door, leading her through the darkness to where the glow of moonlight poured softly through the glass panes. “You must tell me what you want, Sofia.”
She stared into his eyes and smiled. “Is this not a conversation for the bedchamber? Or are you referring to how we’re being pushed from pillar to post like babes in a perambulator?”
There was a reason he’d not confided in anyone until now. Why he had spent months trying to gather facts and find the villain.
“Men like Daventry and Aaron Chance function best when they control a situation. Rothley would die for me but is a damn sight more amenable.”
“It does feel like we’ve been shoved to the wings while others take the stage.” She laid her hand on his upper arm. “I’m not complaining. At the Hare and Hounds, Mr Daventry was the voice of reason, and the magistrate fears him.”
“I appreciate his help, too. His men are amongst London’s finest enquiry agents, but I cannot sit around here and let other people solve my problems.”
“Our problems. You’re here because of me.”
“That’s why I’m asking what you want to do. Be honest.” At dinner, she had kept her opinion to herself, and he needed to know why. “Don’t let anyone take your voice or choose your fate.”
She hesitated. “I don’t want to sound ungrateful. Everyone has been so kind and helpful, and it’s hard to fight when you’re alone and unarmed.”
“You’re not alone.” He was fighting a battle, too, but refused to be relegated from Field Marshall to Private in his own damn army. “We’ll support each other. Take control of our own affairs.”
She nodded before smoothing her hands down the elegant gown. “I don’t feel myself here. It’s like I’m a stranger in my own skin. Well, except for the exquisite moment we shared upstairs.”
He brushed the backs of his fingers across her cheek. “That gown fits you like a glove, but you’ve never looked more beautiful than when I pleasured you in the bath.”
She closed her eyes briefly as if the waves of ecstasy still flowed through her. “These aren’t my clothes or jewels. I don’t belong here and prefer my room at the practice. I mean the marquess no disrespect, but this house has no heart.”
No, the place was as grim as a mausoleum.
“Then tell me what you want to do,” he reiterated.
The fire of passion sparked in her eyes. “Return to the practice and my work in the dispensary. Question the serving wench and Mrs Pugh’s relatives. Lead the charge together, not wait here like preened popinjays.”
“Then we’ll be rebels.” He captured her hand, pressing a tender kiss to her knuckles. “What about the marriage licence?” he said with some hesitancy. “If we’re to face our foes and indulge our desires, you need the security marriage provides.”
She looked up, her uncertain eyes meeting his. “What if I’m not enough for you, and you grow to resent me?”
“No one can predict the future, but I imagine you’d be more than enough for any man.”
Water gathered in her eyes as a pensive smile touched her lips. “That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said, but there’s a chance we’ll tire of each other and be nothing more than friends.”
“And colleagues,” he reminded her. “And though you cannot train in medicine, you could open a charitable foundation and treat the poor. We could have a rich and fulfilled life without the pressure of falling in love. Love rarely lasts anyway.”
Yet the thought of her saying no roused an ache in his chest and a tight knot in his gut. The air between them thinned as if signalling her quiet retreat. The need to possess her made him want to don a periwig and gown and argue his case.
“My parents were happy, and they were friends,” she said.
“My parents were so in love in the beginning, it killed my mother when my father betrayed her.” A lie could destroy a relationship in seconds. “As long as we’re always honest, we’ll have no issue.”
She exhaled slowly. “So you would tell me if you wished to take your pleasure elsewhere?”
“Take my pleasure elsewhere?” His incredulous snort was loud enough to rattle the dinner gong. “I thought you knew me better than that. If we marry, I’ll bed no one but you, Sofia.”
“Oh.” She bit her lip. “Even if you fall in love with someone else?”
“Trust me, I won’t. I’m married to my work, as are you. We’ll have the same expectations, expectations few people understand.”
With her, he didn’t need to worry about working late. He could discuss his patients, and she would listen. They would ease their troubles beneath the bed sheets, and she didn’t care if he was baseborn.
“And you require the same commitment from me?”
“I’ll not share you with another man,” he growled. The thought had the devil’s serpent writhing in his chest. “Not ever.”
Long seconds passed before she nodded. “Then I accept.”
She said no more, and he didn’t demand a detailed explanation, though the rush of elation was euphoric.
“Shall we put Aaron Chance to the test and see if he can summon a clergyman here?”
She blinked rapidly. “You mean marry tonight?”
“Why wait? If we’re to tackle the villains, there’s no better time.” They were neck-deep in the mire and would keep each other from drowning.
“Very well. I expect the countess will be pleased.”
“Rothley will be ecstatic.”
“The marquess wants us to marry?”
“If it means we’ll leave him in peace and return to town.”
Everyone’s eyes were upon them when they entered the dining room. The guests put down their cutlery and gazed with eager curiosity.
Once seated, Reid nodded for Sofia to speak as agreed.
She took a fortifying sip of her wine and faced Rothley. “My lord, we thank you for your hospitality but plan to return to town in the morning.”
Rothley’s mouth quirked. “Is it not in your best interest to remain here? Few people dare to approach the gates, let alone mount the steps.”
“We’re extremely grateful for everyone’s help but have decided to take charge of our own affairs.” She glanced at those seated around the table and smiled sincerely. “If you still want to assist us, we have a list of tasks.”
They had made a brief list before leaving the library.
Everyone offered their unwavering support.
“Daventry, we would be grateful if your agent could continue watching the Merricks,” Reid said, wanting to know when the devils ate and slept and breathed. “And check if Coutts has an employee named Mr Fellows.”
“Of course.”
“We’d like to review the witness statements from the patrons of the Hare and Hounds,” Sofia said.
Daventry arched a brow. “That won’t be possible. The details are confidential. The magistrate may grant me access to the files. I can relay pertinent facts but nothing more.”
Reid thanked him before turning to Aaron Chance and mentioning the wager in the book at White’s. “I need to know the names of the women these reprobates targeted. Many of those taking part frequent your gaming hell and will undoubtedly be in your debt. I’m sure they’ll be eager to co-operate.”
Aaron Chance’s arrogant grin said he’d enjoy throttling a rogue or two. “Your cousin is on the list. Am I permitted to ruffle his feathers?”
“Pluck them out for all I care.”
Rothley leaned back in his seat, sipping claret. “I pray my task is a damn sight more interesting.”
“I’m trusting you with a matter closer to home. When my grandfather returns from Chesham Park, I need to know where he goes and who he visits.”
Guilt surfaced. During the fifteen years he had lived with his grandfather, Reid had questioned his mother’s account of her tragic tale. But the viscount’s words to Sofia in the dispensary exposed a cruel side to his character.
Was it all just bravado?
Would his grandfather mellow once he learned they had wed?
Rothley’s indifferent mask slipped, his dark eyes shining with a fierce determination to protect those who mattered most. “You distrust him?”
Family should be about more than blood.
Family should be the shelter one sought in a storm.
With a heavy heart, he sighed. “Something tells me I should trust my grandfather as much as I do Victor Merrick. But I hope he proves me wrong.”
Rothley raised his glass. “I shall leave no stone unturned.”
“One more thing,” Sofia began, “perhaps we could make a wager.”
“A wager?” Aaron Chance sounded intrigued.
“Yes, on how quickly you can summon a clergyman. We want to marry here tonight.”