Chapter 21
Eamon forced down a groan. As he drew back for another thrust, Caro closed her eyes and tilted her head, passion flushing her cheeks.
This was heaven. Eamon’s heart pounded, his body roasting. Caro was beneath him, her arms around him taking away every hurt, every doubt, every lonely moment.
Each stroke into her drove him more wild, every little gasp she made stoking the frenzy higher. Caro lifted her hips, instinctively rocking against him, until Eamon was sighing her name, calling her sweet and love and my own.
There were other words he wanted to use, but she wasn’t ready for those, and he’d do nothing right now that would make her push him away.
Eamon wasn’t going anywhere, not for a long while.
“Please,” Caro gasped. Not to stop, Eamon could tell, by the way she seized his hips and pulled him harder against her.
She liked to plead with him. Eamon didn’t mind at all, happy to answer her desires.
He drove into her, the heat of her maddening him. This was deepest passion, sharing this untamed intimacy with the woman he’d so much wanted and ended up loving.
“Caro.” He tasted her name on his lips. “Love. Damn it, no…”
Blast it all—he’d wanted to make this last all night. Eamon abruptly slid out of Caro and spilled his seed into the handkerchief he’d dropped next to them for just that purpose.
The suddenness of it made him bereft, cold. Caro dragged in a shuddering breath, the shock of it startling her as well.
Eamon quickly wiped himself clean and returned to her, their next kisses moving from feverishly crazed to satisfyingly sweet to the slow brushes of afterglow.
Eamon tugged a coverlet from under Caro and wrapped it around them both. He burrowed into the cocoon with her, their kisses and touches taking them into drowsy contentment.
Hours later, Caro stretched her toes and let out a sound almost like a purr. She startled herself, never having heard such a thing come from her throat.
Eamon’s smile answered. He caressed her shoulder where it peeked outside the covers, his touch gentle but heated.
They were bundled into the bed, where Eamon had tucked them after the second time he’d loved her. The room had darkened, several of the candles burning out. It was relatively early in the night, however, the treacherous dawn still hours away.
“We could have an affaire de coeur, I suppose,” Caro murmured as she skimmed her fingers along Eamon’s strong arm. “If you’d like.”
Eamon’s laughter vibrated the bed. “Isn’t that what we’re doing?”
“I mean in the weeks to come. While you are cataloging. We could arrange to meet so that we do not upset Leo or shock Singleton.”
Eamon’s laughter faded. “You have thought this through, have you?”
“Why not?” Caro touched his lips, shivering when he kissed her fingertips. “I thought you’d be pleased.”
A frown creased his face. “Because I professed to be in love with you?”
“That and I missed you too much when you were gone. I don’t want you to run away again.” She trailed off with wistfulness.
Eamon gazed at her in silence for a time, eyes unreadable. Then he briefly rubbed his forehead. “I’ve behaved like an ass for the whole of it, haven’t I? I am sorry, Duchess. I never meant to cause you so much vexation.”
Caro hadn’t been vexed—she’d been empty. Eamon not being in the house all day had felt wrong, as though the place was incomplete.
“I’m glad you came back,” she said softly.
Eamon snuggled closer to her. “There is much more to do, and to be honest, I don’t trust anyone but me to do it. I promise to behave myself this time, Duchess.”
That hadn’t been what Caro had meant, but she shared a smile as though she agreed with him.
She walked her fingers across his chest. “You are hardly behaving yourself now, Mr. Stone.”
Eamon captured her hand. “Outside of this chamber, I mean. Inside, I will let myself be very wicked.”
Caro feigned disapproval. “Is that so?”
“Indeed. It’s enjoyable to be wicked, Duchess. Let me show you.”
Eamon lowered himself to her and kissed her, his lips hot and leisurely. Then he abruptly stripped back the covers and moved to kneel between her legs.
Caro held her breath, wondering what he’d do, then suppressed a squeal as he proceeded to demonstrate what pleasures he could bring to her with his mouth alone.
Eamon was in the gallery at nine the next morning, studiously going over the notebooks he’d left behind when Singleton appeared.
“Good morning, sir.”
Singleton’s three simple words held a quantity of meaning. Surprise to find Eamon already here when Eamon hadn’t knocked on the door. Curiosity as to how Eamon had gained entrance, and wondering if he wanted to know the answer.
“Good morning, Singleton,” Eamon returned without trepidation. “Her Grace lent me the key.” He lifted a sturdy ring and jangled it. “This way I can make an early start without disturbing the household.”
The key had also let Eamon slip out even earlier this morning and hasten back to his rooms for a wash and change of clothing. Mrs. Temple, his landlady, had not been impressed by his early hours, she’d informed Eamon when he stopped for a quick breakfast.
“Blame my friends,” Eamon had told her as he’d gulped down coffee and buttered toast. “They do keep me out all night.”
“Funny that.” Mrs. Temple refilled his cup as soon as it emptied. “His lordship came around looking for you very late last evening. Was surprised you weren’t in.”
Eamon suspected Wolfe had wanted to learn how the supper had gone. He clearly hadn’t expected Eamon to have spent the night in Caro’s arms.
Eamon strove to keep the flush from his face. “I do have other friends than Lord Dominic, Mrs. Temple. Now, I must go and earn some coin.”
“A gentleman shouldn’t soil his hands making a living, you know,” Mrs. Temple said. “If you want to take a true lady to wife, that is.”
“Gentlemen who won’t soil their hands slowly starve.” Eamon grabbed another slice of toast as he rose to leave. “I prefer to eat.” He munched the toast, grinned, and departed, as Mrs. Temple shook her head.
Mrs. Temple had a point, Eamon reflected as he finished the bread, donned his hat and coat, and departed for Grosvenor Square.
If he wished to take Caro to wife, they must have something to live on.
The townhouse was Leo’s, the lease in his name as duke, Eamon’s research had told him.
Caro and the dowager had use of it for their lifetimes, but the dowager might request her daughter-in-law to leave if Caro decided to marry a reprobate.
Caro would never depart without Leo—and Leo would want to go with her—so what would they do?
Let the dowager rattle about the empty house while Eamon leased a flat for them or rooms in a cheap boardinghouse?
What a comedown for a duke and his mother, if the duke’s men of business would even allow such a thing to happen.
Eamon halted in the middle of North Audley Street with a growl, earning impatient words from those trying to press past him.
The situation was impossible. If Caro were a genteel widow with an untitled son, no one would talk very much if they quietly wed. There would be some disapprobation, yes, but most people would regard it as a sweet romance.
As it was, Caro was under close scrutiny of the world. Many had their opinions on what was good for the young duke, including his odious cousin.
Eamon was in love with Caro, no matter who she was. She could sweep gutters for a living, and he wouldn’t care. But she was a duchess, regardless of the state of her son’s finances, and the world would view Eamon as the swindler trying to gain control over her son and her properties.
If Eamon truly cared for Caro, he’d disappear and leave her free of gossip. But no, he was a selfish bastard who wanted to drink every drop of his time with her.
She’d suggested they become lovers. Eamon had laughed, wondering if she’d truly understood the implications of her idea. Upon reflection, though, Eamon would take her offer if it was all he could have.
What he could do was find a way to shower riches upon her and Leo, not to mention the dowager. Eamon had a talent for prying things out of people, and pry he would.
Then, when he departed to save the last shred of Caro’s reputation, he’d know she’d be all right. Eamon wouldn’t desert her until she and Leo could stand against the world and put the creditors in their places.
His duchess could wear diamonds again—her own—and astonish the world with her beauty.
Eamon then would have to go and explore the Arctic, or someplace suitably remote, until he forgot about her.
Which would take the rest of his life.
Eamon snapped back to the present moment when Singleton, who’d regarded Eamon steadily as Eamon displayed the keys, gave him a nod. “Very good thinking, sir. Will you require tea?”
“Not just yet, thank you. I want to do as much as I can here before luncheon.”
Singleton bowed. “Very good, sir,” he said and glided back downstairs.
Did Singleton believe the story about the key—even though Caro had indeed handed it to Eamon? Or did he know what had occurred last night after everyone had retired?
Singleton was a canny old sod, so he probably suspected. The fact that he hadn’t herded Eamon out the door was a good sign that he wasn’t outraged at him.
Eamon forced himself to focus on his work, his determination to find something valuable renewed.
He busily went through his notebooks again, pausing at the few pieces, including the book of hours Leo had turned up, that were worth having valued.
There were too damned few items for his comfort, though.
The Rembrandt would help, if Eamon could collect enough money to purchase it—and if Caro would accept it from him. Then he’d have to persuade her to sell it again instead of hanging it on the wall to admire it.
Too many things could go wrong, enough to make Eamon grind his teeth in frustration.
He worked all morning without interruption—to his disappointment. He’d hoped Caro would glide down the stairs and greet him, or Leo would appear with his eagerness to help. Eamon was surprised how much he looked forward to seeing the little lad every day.
As it was, nothing disturbed him until the knocker sounded on the front door, and Singleton appeared from nowhere to answer it.
Eamon tensed as he glanced over the banister, expecting Rudyard to try to insert himself into the house again. He relaxed as a maid preceded a young woman inside and helped remove her mistress’s light wraps.
“If you’ll follow me, your ladyship,” Singleton intoned. “Her Grace will see you in her sitting room.”
“Thank you, Singleton.” The smooth voice of the Countess of Heyford reached Eamon, along with her light footsteps, mixed with Singleton’s heavier tread.
The countess gave Eamon a curious stare as they mounted the stairs. Eamon made her a formal bow, and Louise nodded back at him in frank assessment before she followed Singleton up the next flight.
She knew, Eamon decided. Caro’s friends were perceptive and not fools, even if the princess sometimes pretended to be empty-headed.
Eamon hoped the princess and the countess would become his allies, not his enemies, because if the latter, he knew he’d never stand a chance.
“Louise, I am so glad you’ve come.” Caro kissed her friend on the cheek and led her to the warm chair by the fireplace.
The dowager had retreated to her chamber to write letters, and Leo was upstairs trying to study. He’d demand to join Eamon before long, and Caro would let him, happy they could begin their ritual again.
Louise sank to the offered chair, settling her dark gray broadcloth skirt. Clothing always draped well on Louise.
“Is anything the matter?” Caro asked in concern when Louise sat too long in silence. “Are Harry and Jack all right?”
“Yes, yes, they are fine.” Louise’s face softened at the mention of her sons, who were currently away at school. “They’ll be home soon, and ready to have Leo down to Berkshire to romp and play.”
“He’ll be happy to come.” Louise invited Caro and Leo every year in June. Caro looked forward to the month in the Berkshire countryside, a place she could forget her troubles for a brief interval.
This year, however, she’d have to leave Eamon to join Louise and her boys, something she was not certain she wanted to do.
“Caro, I don’t quite know how to tell you this.
” Louise leaned forward in a rustle of skirts and pressed Caro’s suddenly cold hand.
“Rudyard is putting it about that you are having a torrid affair with Mr. Stone. He is claiming that Mr. Stone is endangering Leo’s safety, and he is bringing suit against him—and you—to have Leo removed from his influence. ”