Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Sofia wanted to look behind but daren’t.
She had considered whether one of Reid’s colleagues was responsible for the deaths of his patients. While returning a book to Mr Turner’s room, she had rummaged in his desk drawers. She questioned the delivery boy and asked Mr Hickman to help measure the ingredients. Checking to see if his nervous disposition had caused the mistakes.
“Has Mr Hickman seen you?” She reached across the table and touched Reid’s forearm, knowing nothing would ease his disappointment.
Betrayal didn’t always deliver a sharp blow to the gut.
Sometimes it left an empty void where trust once lived.
“No.” His handsome face crumpled into a snarl. “He’s just slipped Francois his scorecard while Mrs Morris is shrugging out of her pelisse.”
“Did you know he was taking part in the bet at White’s?” It was a foolish question. Reid told her everything and would have mentioned it sooner. “Have you had suspicions before tonight?”
“No. None.” Hurt dulled his blue eyes. “Hickman struggles to pour tea from the pot without shaking. Why would I suspect him of participating in a wager for libertines?”
The tightness in her chest had her scrambling to think of a way to ease his pain. But that would mean lying—something she could never do, not to him.
“Mr Hickman could have sent the tinctures. He has access to the dispensary and arranges other deliveries.” She paused, recalling his remorse when he almost shut a patient’s finger in the door. “Perhaps I’m naive, but he doesn’t strike me as a man who would deliberately hurt anyone.”
There was no hint of the cold, calculating look she’d seen in Victor’s eyes. Although some wicked men pretended to be charming, and the victims discovered the truth too late.
“I should know better than to trust those close to me,” he snapped.
Distrust was a vortex that sucked the happiness out of every experience.
“We should focus on finding proof Mr Hickman sent the tinctures. His red hair says he is not Mr Fellows. Though I’m beginning to wonder if Mr Fellows is only guilty of being a cad.”
Reid leant forward. “Do you know what I think? Hickman stole the bottles and destroyed the dispensary to make it look like a crime scene. He wants things to return to how they were before you arrived. When he could hide in his office and I didn’t force him to examine patients.”
“Maybe you’re right.” A constable would draw the same conclusion. “And with fewer patients, you’re unlikely to need his help.”
“Precisely.”
Doubt formed a knot in her gut. The uncomfortable feeling forced her to address another issue. “What do you keep in the restricted room upstairs? Might Mr Hickman have picked the lock and discovered your secret?”
He dropped his voice to a whisper. “The room is like a shrine to the deceased. I’ve made a profile of every victim. I’ve put pins into a map of the metropolis, pointing to all patients who fit the criteria.”
Her breath caught. “You must show me. If the magistrate decides to search your premises, it might look like a criminal’s sanctum, not a logical way of hunting for clues.”
Reid scrubbed his face with his hand and groaned. “You’re right. God, this is a damn mess.”
“No, it’s not. Every day we learn something new.”
“And yet we’re still clueless.” He grabbed his wine glass and knocked back the contents. “Look at him.” He nodded in Mr Hickman’s direction. “The man’s hand is steadier than a ship’s anchor. He hasn’t trembled once while speaking to Mrs Morris.”
“Perhaps he doesn’t find her as terrifying.”
“Now you’re defending him.”
“I’m not. I’m trying to help you discover the truth. And we’re not clueless. Mr Daventry said these little insights are like breadcrumbs leading us to the culprit.”
Surely they were reaching the end of the trail.
He sighed. “I suppose we know Fellows is taking part in the wager. Francois will give a statement to that effect. And Fellows is using an alias. The men who frequent White’s don’t work at Coutts.”
“Exactly,” she said in a positive tone. “He met Mrs Ludgrove here numerous times. It’s possible he sent the laudanum to make her more amenable. When he realised the tincture was too potent, he decided to blame you.”
“Then I’m just a convenient scapegoat.”
“Indeed.” She raised her glass, chinking it gently against his. “From what you told me about your grandfather’s original plan for Bretton Hall, your cousin has a motive to discredit you. He purchased tinctures and is taking part in the bet.”
“And he fits Mrs Ludgrove’s description of Fellows.”
“Which means Mr Hickman destroyed the dispensary for the reason you claimed. He’s afraid and didn’t know what else to do.”
A watery smile touched his lips. “What do we do now?”
Sofia thought for a moment. “We say good evening to Mr Hickman and his companion. You take me home and show me what you keep in the restricted room. We make a plan for tomorrow. And you make love to me in the French bed you purchased from Ingrams.”
He downed his drink and grinned. “We’re not leaving until you’ve eaten your stew. If last night is any indication, we need our strength.”
They remained hidden in the booth for another half an hour, eating and drinking wine. Reid watched his secretary, giving a running commentary every time Mr Hickman touched his companion’s hand.
Reid paid Francois, leaving a little extra for the valuable information. As they made to leave, her husband couldn’t wait to surprise Mr Hickman.
He wore an arrogant grin as he stopped beside their table. “Hickman? You never said you were dining at Antoine’s tonight.”
Mr Hickman jumped in the seat, sending his cutlery crashing to the floor. “Mr Gentry. I—I don’t recall you saying you were dining out, either.” With a sudden shaky hand, he gestured to the attractive older woman sitting opposite. “You k-know Mrs Morris, of course.”
The lady smiled. She wasn’t embarrassed about dining with a man twenty years her junior. “Mr Gentry. John tells me you’re married. Please accept my felicitations.”
John? The couple were on more than friendly terms.
Reid made the introductions.
Sofia’s stomach flipped when he called her his wife.
“What wonderful news.” Mrs Morris beamed. “There’s always a vibrant energy in the air when one meets a couple so desperately in love.”
Sofia couldn’t argue. She felt like she was floating on a wave of euphoria whenever she was in Reid’s company.
“Indeed,” he said, his hot hand coming to rest on her back. “Well, we’ll leave you in peace. Good night. Enjoy your supper.”
They left Antoine’s intent on hailing a hackney but had barely walked ten yards when Mr Hickman burst onto the street, panicked.
“Sir, I want you to know that I met Mrs Morris in a bookshop quite by chance. I assure you, I did not abuse my position or deliberately seek her out.”
“Ballocks,” Reid said, shocking the man. “I watched you give Francois your jeton and scorecard. Does Mrs Morris know you’re using her to win a wager? And don’t start trembling now. You’ve sat as rigid as an oak the last half an hour.”
Mr Hickman struggled to form a reply. “I admit I was thinking of the wager when I invited her for coffee. But things are different now.”
“Then why have the waiter mark your card?” Reid countered.
“I was afraid Francois would mention the wager and knew if I gave him the card, he would know to keep the secret.” Mr Hickman turned to Sofia, a pleading look in his green eyes. “I feel some affection for Mrs Morris. She’ll never understand if she knows I’ve dined with other older ladies.”
Sofia decided to hit him with the truth. “The men involved in the wager are betraying the ladies’ trust. Honestly, I thought better of you. Mrs Morris will think you’re a scoundrel when I suspect the opposite is true.”
“Did you bring Mrs Ludgrove here?” Reid demanded to know.
“Good grief, no!”
“What about Mrs Beckman or Mrs Nelson? Did you send those women stronger tinctures hoping to subdue them?” He gave a mocking snort. “Admit, it would be a damn sight easier to kiss a woman if she were delirious.”
“No!” Mr Hickman could barely catch his breath. He glanced back at Antoine’s door. “I know nothing about the tinctures but I did bring Mrs Aspall here. I was desperate and needed more points on my card.”
Reid turned on his heel, throwing his arms in the air and cursing Hickman. “You deceitful devil! I should haul you to the nearest police office.”
“Perhaps you should explain why you joined the wager,” Sofia said, trying to bring an element of calm to the situation. “Why would you think you had a hope of winning when pitched against libertines?”
“More importantly, where the hell did you get the thousand-pound stake? You’ve grumbled about the purchase of new boots for weeks.”
Mr Hickman cupped his face in distress, hoping the problem would disappear. He shook his head, but Reid tapped his toe, determined to stand there until he received an answer.
Francois exited Antoine’s and waved at them. “The lady says your food is getting cold, monsieur.”
Mr Hickman raised his head. “I’ll be there in a moment.”
Appeased, the waiter disappeared to relay the message.
With a weary sigh, Mr Hickman said, “You’ll probably dismiss me when I tell you. But you were pressing me to accept a few patients and I can’t bear the thought of …” He screwed his eyes shut.
“What have you done, Mr Hickman?” she said.
He struggled to look at Reid as he confessed. “Mr Algernon Gentry paid my stake in exchange for a list of patients who met the betting criteria. Mrs Beckman, Mrs Ludgrove and many other patients of a similar age were on the list I gave to your cousin.”
A fire of hatred lit Reid’s eyes. He looked like Lucifer poised to unleash his wrath and banish Mr Hickman to the pits of hell. “You gave Algernon confidential details?” he raged. “Names? Addresses? You betrayed my trust after I’ve done everything possible to accommodate you?”
Mr Hickman bowed his head in shame.
Oh, her heart was breaking.
For her husband, not Mr Hickman.
She supposed nothing hurt as much as his father’s betrayal. But it must feel like the world was against him. If only Lord Rothley were here. He would know exactly what to say to lessen the blow.
“Why?” Reid pressed. “And don’t tell me you hoped to win. You knew damn well you didn’t stand a chance against the likes of Winslow. Tell me. I’ll not stomach another one of your lies.”
The man’s cheeks flushed red. “It will sound foolish, but I wanted my uncle, Sir Phillip, to see my name in the book. If he thinks I keep company with favourable men, there’s more chance of him funding a personal project.”
“Favourable men?” Reid scoffed.
“How bizarre,” she said, shaking her head at the snivelling secretary. “You work for a respectable man yet allied yourself with wastrels. I’ve a mind to inform your uncle you lack basic common sense.”
Reid narrowed his gaze. “You’re not a member of White’s. Your application was black-balled.”
Mr Hickman squirmed. “Lord Meyers owed your cousin a debt. I was permitted to take part.”
Reid laughed. “No one owes Algernon a debt. Besides, I studied the betting book and your name is not listed.”
“It must be.” A shadow of mistrust clouded the man’s eyes. “I received a card and a token. They were accepted at every named venue.”
“Those keeping score don’t know who’s taking part. It seems I’m not the only one who’s been betrayed.”
Realisation dawned, and Mr Hickman started trembling.
Reid watched his employee, unaffected when the man began pleading for mercy. “I can tolerate mistakes but never disloyalty. Your actions could cost me my neck, let alone the practice. Turner will clear out your desk and return your belongings. I don’t want to set eyes on you again.”
Reid captured Sofia’s hand, taking her with him as he strode down the street. He summoned a hackney, his loud whistle as abrupt as his curt directions.
Inside the cab, tension clawed at the enclosed space like a caged animal. She could try to soothe his pain, comb her fingers through his hair and convince him he would never have cause to doubt her .
And yet he would doubt her if he knew the truth.
She had misled him, too.
This marriage of convenience was not so convenient after all. This marriage was not based on friendship or ambition or necessity. This marriage was based on love.
Reid felt sick to the pit of his stomach.
When he wasn’t battling nausea he felt like punching the roof of the cab until his knuckles bled. Downing a bottle of brandy might temper the fury in his veins. Making love to his wife might help him forget Hickman’s treachery.
Yet he didn’t want to use Sofia like that.
Resentment had no place in their relationship.
Every kiss was sublime. Every touch sacred. Something special happened when they focused on nothing but each other. He’d be damned if he’d let his devious secretary ruin something precious.
It took the fifteen-minute journey back to Leadenhall Street to calm his raging temper. Sofia was right. They had made progress tonight. But he had to tread carefully. Accusing Algernon of drugging the patients would start a family war. If it came to a battle, he suspected his grandfather would side with his son and heir, not the baseborn relative who’d disobeyed him.
Sofia sat quietly.
Perhaps she was just as stunned by Hickman’s confession.
Perhaps she knew their troubles were far from over.
Indeed, fate decided to test Reid’s mettle again tonight.
He recognised the elegant equipage parked opposite the practice, and knew the white-haired occupant peering through his monocle.
Reid helped his wife from the hackney and paid the jarvey. “Go inside, Sofia, while I speak to my grandfather. Wait in the hall with the door open where I can see you.”
A memory surfaced, unbidden. He was just six years old when his grandfather arrived one bitter winter’s night. Though his mother had hurried him into the drawing room, Reid had caught the sharp edge in his father’s voice as he spoke.
You’ll accept us as a family or not at all.
It seemed history might repeat itself.
Reid crossed the road and stood waiting for his grandfather to lower the carriage window. Those few strained seconds felt like forever.
“You’ve not been home,” the lord said coldly, opening the door and beckoning Reid inside the vehicle. “And you weren’t at the practice last night.”
Reid remained on the street. “I stayed at Studland Park.”
His grandfather’s gaze flitted to Sofia. “With your herbalist?”
“With my wife.”
The man paled, then uttered, “That’s impossible.”
“Why? Because you threatened the bishop?”
His grandfather dropped his monocle, leaving the eye glass dangling on its red string. “Can you blame me? You hardly know her and admitted to acting out of obligation. I was merely buying you time to consider other options.” He grumbled to himself. “Your father was just as impetuous.”
Tired of hearing his lies, Reid spoke openly. “You mention options, yet always consider your own ambitions first. You want me to marry into a noble family and are willing to force my hand.”
How was that love?
His grandfather did not deny the accusations. “You’re determined to set your sights low yet deserve better. If you chose a sensible lady from an upstanding family, I wouldn’t need to interfere. I could rest peacefully in the grave.”
“Because you hope guilt won’t follow you to the afterlife?”
The lord puffed his chest. “I have no reason to feel guilty. I fixed your father’s mistake. I suppose I should be grateful you wanted to marry this chit before impregnating her.”
Bile rose to his throat. Had his grandfather made similar derogatory remarks about Reid’s mother? “My wife’s name is Sofia. And this discussion is over.”
Reid turned on his heel but his grandfather cried, “Wait! I came to make peace not fuel the fire. Is Bretton Hall not an ideal place to raise a family?”
Reid whirled around. “Algernon said Bretton Hall is his now.”
The old man mumbled. “You will always have first refusal. Take the position of estate manager and I shall ensure your son inherits the house. Your wife stands a better chance of being accepted if you reside in the country. You know how intolerant people are here.”
He wondered if his grandfather could hear his own hypocrisy.
“It occurs to me you’re the only one who finds me lacking.” A mocking laugh escaped him. “You’re not inviting me to reside at Bretton Hall as a gentleman and your grandson, but as your lackey. To you, I’ll always be the baseborn son of a harlot.”
“That’s utter poppycock.”
“Have you had this conversation with Algernon? He’s a reprobate and a wastrel yet can do as he pleases.”
Had Reid’s father been a loyal man he might have had some admiration for him. He’d defied society and the patriarchy, and trampled over their expectations.
“Algernon will inherit a viscountcy,” came the lord’s excuse.
Yes, the rules were different for titled men.
“And that makes him deserving? No wonder my mother worked to help the downtrodden. The future depends upon educating good men, not useless toffs.”
Reid marched away, knowing he’d taken the right path and had no plans to deviate.
“Just tell me you lied about marrying her,” his grandfather cried.
Reid ignored him.
“Tell me my efforts weren’t in vain,” came his irate plea.
Reid met Sofia’s gaze. She looked scared. Nervous.
He entered the practice, slammed the door shut behind him and captured his wife around the waist. “I doubt he’ll bother us again.”
Tears clung to her lashes, shimmering faintly in the darkness. “He sounded angry and so dreadfully disappointed.”
“He’s been bitter and resentful his entire life.”
She eased out of his embrace. “I don’t want you to choose between me and your family. I hoped your grandfather would mellow in time, but I doubt he will. Our marriage will always be a problem.”
He felt a wave of alarm and sensed more than her physical retreat. “It may be a problem for him. It will never be a problem for me.”
“You say that now but may come to regret your decision.”
“I don’t regret marrying you, Sofia.”
“Relationships fail. Family bonds last a lifetime.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “I don’t have to stay in London. The countess still has a ticket for the packet ship to New York.”
Her last comment chilled him to the bone.
“You’re my family now.” He cupped her cheeks and kissed her, a long, drugging kiss that made his world seem right again. “It was never a choice between you and him. He just refuses to accept he can’t bend me to his will.”
Her weak smile failed to reach her emerald eyes. “Don’t make any rash decisions. When your problems are over, you may see things differently.”
“You’ll still be my wife.” A fierce possession rose in his chest. She was his—for now and forever. He’d not break his vow.
“This love affair may lose its bloom. I would hate for you to sacrifice everything because you chose to help me.”
He couldn’t help but laugh. “Have you been paying attention to what happens when we’re together? You’re all I think about. You’re all I want. I could spend the rest of my life between your soft thighs and die happy.”
“What happens when lust loses its lustre?”
“It won’t.”
“Or you meet someone else you desire.”
“I won’t.”
She dashed another tear away. “No one knows what the future holds.”
Unsettled by her sudden vulnerability, he reached for her hand, driven by a need to prove her wrong. “I’ll do everything I can to make our marriage work. You agreed to do the same.” He threaded his fingers tightly with hers, forming an unbreakable bond. “It’s been an exhausting day. Let’s go to bed. We’ll discuss this in the morning after a good night’s rest.”
She nodded.
In light of the recent robbery, he mentioned checking the downstairs rooms before retiring. “Come with me. I’m afraid to let you out of my sight.”
They checked the dispensary and found everything in order. Turner’s office was a mess, and Reid merely peered around the door. He checked his study, leading her inside to ensure his desk drawers were locked.
It was dark, so quiet, yet his heart raced when he caught the scent of her exotic perfume. The smell of iris and musk curled around his insides, stirring something raw and primal. A sensual hum escaped him.
Her earlier distress died on a chuckle. “Do you find something arousing about straightening papers and checking drawers, Mr Gentry?”
“The only arousing thing in here is you.”
She held his gaze, desire a fire in her eyes as it roamed over his body. “Perhaps you were thinking about that night in your study when our desperate need for each other had us making love in our clothes.”
“Or how badly I wanted to hike up your skirts in the apothecary’s office.”
“I’m not sure I remember,” she said coyly, rounding the desk.
“You were reading the register,” he purred, opening a ledger and beckoning her forward. “And I was studying the entries over your shoulder.”
She squeezed between him and the desk and pretended to read the ledger, his cock hardening when she hummed and said, “I remember there wasn’t much room.”
“Yes, it was tight.” He leaned over her, pressing his erection against her buttocks. “And we had a devil of a time concentrating.”
“We’d have had an extra inch if you’d removed my pelisse.”
He reached around her, caressing her breasts while releasing the buttons. “Is that better?” He tossed the garment aside, cupped her throat and nuzzled her neck. God, he couldn’t get enough of her.
A soft whimper escaped her. “Much better.”
Lust formed a tightening knot deep in the pit of his stomach. “Can you feel how hard I am?” he drawled, grinding against her to ease the ache.
“Not as much as I would like. Skirts can be a dreadful inconvenience.”
He took the bait, freeing himself before gathering her skirts to her waist, the fabric cascading like a waterfall over his arms. The first touch of his weeping crown to her bare buttocks tore a husky growl from his throat.
“Hell, everything about you is so damn divine. Part your legs for me, Sofia.” He pushed through the gap between her thighs, his cock gliding through her slick folds. He didn’t enter her, just teased her sex and drove them both mad with desire.
“Reid,” she panted for the third time, her hands braced on his desk.
“I need to touch you. I need to taste you. I need to be inside you.” He held her skirts, fisting the material in his hands. “But I want to look at you when I do. I love watching you come.”
“I want to watch you, too, but I need you quickly first.”
Eager to ease the tortuous agony, he entered her, pushing deep into her wet channel, loving how she stretched for him. Only him. Always him. “Hell, yes!”
Her mewl rang with satisfaction. “Oh.”
“You were made for me, love.” He slid in and out of her, his eyes rolling back in their sockets as she took every solid inch. “I’ll never sit at this desk again without remembering how good you feel.”
He thrust harder.
The pen fell off the inkstand.
A few papers flew onto the floor.
He had to touch her but struggled to hold her skirts aloft.
“I’m removing some of your clothes.” In a frantic effort to undress her, he released her skirts to unfasten the hooks and eyes on her dress.
He withdrew so quickly she gave a disappointed moan.
“I’ll be back where I belong in a moment,” he promised her.
The sentiment was not lost on him.
There was nowhere else he would rather be.
He knew without question she was his home now.
With some urgency, he removed her dress and petticoat. “The rest can stay,” he drawled, pushing her shift to her waist and lifting her to sit on his desk.
Her gaze lingered on his jutting manhood protruding through the fall of his trousers. “What a startling contradiction,” she purred. “Such elegant tailoring paired with such raw masculinity.”
He dropped his trousers and palmed his cock. “They’re the clothes of an upstanding gentleman.”
“In more ways than one.”
“Lean back on your elbows. Let me see you.”
She did as he asked, parting her legs. Her sultry smile said she knew her sex glistened, and that he wouldn’t be able to resist sucking the swollen bud.
He was on her in a heartbeat.
Eating her. Licking. Drinking.
Tasting the sweetness that drove him wild.
Sofia came hard, her pants fast and shallow, her body shuddering violently against his mouth. “I—I need you.”
Not as much as he needed her.
The compulsion to own every inch of her had him pushing inside her until he could push no more. “You’re mine, Sofia.” The words were a possessive growl. “Mine!”
Her warm body hugged him as he drove in and out of her.
They both moaned when he gripped her wrists and pumped so fast the desk shook. The hourglass rolled onto the rug. The papers beneath her bottom were crumpled, but he didn’t give a damn.
One thought remained clear as he withdrew and his guttural groan rent the air as he spilled over Sofia’s thigh.
He’d been so focused on earning a living, so fearful of making his parents’ mistake, he’d neglected to make a life. He stared at his wife in awe. His future lay breathless on his desk, looking brighter and fuller than he’d ever dared to imagine.