Chapter 37
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Back in the rumbling carriage, Annabelle snuck looks at her new husband as he stole brief glances back. They had a long journey home, even with a fresh team of horses. And this time Annabelle traveled as a married woman, no longer the na?ve maid she’d been.
Though technically she remained a virgin. Last night, Arthur Harris had illuminated her delightfully in certain regards yet kept her woefully in the dark about the rest, leaving her longing for more knowledge of the marriage bed.
She trained her eyes out the carriage window, fingers knotting her skirts.
Her new husband was far too compelling, and she’d been very bad indeed last night.
He’d allowed her to explore much of his intriguing, masculine form.
If Lizzie were to discover what Annabelle had done with Arthur Harris, husband or not, her sister would surely die of shame.
“Shall I teach you a game, Bella?”
“Game?” She blinked. “Er, yes. I suppose I could use the … distraction.”
“I thought, perhaps, t’ continue yer education from last night.”
“In a carriage, Mr. Harris?”
He laughed. “I do not mean to ravish you.”
Heat rose to her cheeks.
“Though a well-timed wheel rut while makin’ love only—”
“Mr. Harris!” she admonished.
He grinned. “I meant a friendly game o’ questions, Bella, whereby high card asks an’ low card answers, else players pay a forfeit.”
“What kind of forfeit?”
“What odds would y’ like t’ play for, wife?”
She liked how he’d started calling her his wife. “What does one usually forfeit?”
“Clothing, ma’am. Till not a stitch is left.”
Annabelle began to sweat beneath her dress.
“However, a kiss might do instead.” His grin broadened.
“Oh” was all she could muster.
“And only if low card should refuse t’ answer, o’ course. All questions, see, might further yer education.”
Safer play than in a shared bed. Perhaps she’d even learn a thing or two about Mr. Harris besides his uncanny ability to card trick and love make.
“Very well, Arthur, I agree to your game. What do you call it?”
“Y’ might know it as ‘Questions an’ Commands,’ but I prefer ‘Truth or Dare.’”
Elizabeth loudly rapped Li’s knocker, LeBrecht’s sign creaking stiffly in the wind above her head. She’d wanted to take her husband’s phaeton on her own again, but Milton’s stable master had refused, telling her master’s orders. Thus, she had been driven.
The door opened to Li herself wrapped in a burgundy banyan, her dark hair hanging like drapes about her shoulders. “Lady Milton, I should hope you have good reason to—”
“Is he here?” Elizabeth demanded.
“Who, madam?”
“My husband.”
A man’s voice called from inside, “Li?”
“A minute, darling. Stay put.”
Not Milton. Elizabeth exhaled. “Miss Li, forgive me, I must—”
“Apologize, yes, but let us move this conversation indoors rather than continue it on my front step.”
“Is Mr. Damon your guest?” Elizabeth’s curiosity got the better of her as she followed Li inside.
“No.” Li remained brusque. “Though clearly, the man left an impression on you.”
Elizabeth’s cheeks flamed.
“And as I should like to return to the gentleman currently warming my sheets…” She arched one elegant eyebrow.
“Jasper did not return home last night.” Elizabeth stopped there, embarrassed.
“Lady Milton, my caller does not enjoy interruptions. Explain yourself. Quickly now.”
“Forgive me, Miss Li. I am simply concerned that Jasper did not send word. Our relations have improved, you see, such that I thought he would not seek the company of—”
“Whores?” Li’s brow arched skyward.
“Yes.” Elizabeth’s face heated only more. “I assumed in marriage he would not stray. At least, not until heirs were born.”
“Of course he’s not strayed. It is not in Jasper’s nature. He would have told you he wished to sleep with other women, allowed you, as well, to sleep with other men. Elizabeth, wherever your husband may be, I assure you he is not in another woman’s arms.”
Relief flooded Elizabeth’s body even as Li regarded her with impatience. “I cannot speak to Jasper’s whereabouts, Lady Milton, only to his impeccable character.”
Elizabeth scrunched her lips.
“Well, perhaps impeccable is not the correct English word, but his intentions are mostly honorable. I am sure he has good reason to be gone and will explain himself when he returns.”
“And if he doesn’t?” Elizabeth’s inner fear found voice. “His absence makes me uneasy given all that has occurred between my sister and Mr. Finch.”
Li’s head snapped up. “Hieronymus Finch?”
“Yes. You see my father—”
“Elizabeth, you must tell me everything. At once.” Li’s entire bearing stiffened. “But first I must inform my guest I shall be longer than he likes.”
Li took off, leaving Elizabeth alone, her thoughts skittering like pins into the dark corners of the lady’s dress shop, fear winding its way up her spine.
Harris sat across from his wife—wife!—and watched her worry her bottom lip. He wished to bite it. In truth, he wished to do worse. He didn’t know if he’d been foolish or wise to indulge this genteel lady. He knew only that he’d relished educating Mrs. Harris on her wedding night.
He willed his raging cockstand back into submission.
All morning long in this blasted, swaying carriage his prick had threatened mutiny, because his bloody wife was the worst temptation ever.
He would return her to her family intact, damnation, intact!
Though at the rate they were playing, it would be her body alone that remained intact.
He’d already corrupted her mind; one had only to look at her now to know it.
“Dare,” Harris grumbled, having drawn a low card. He’d no desire to tell Bella how many women he’d bedded in his thirty years on earth, because that number was likely both more and less than she expected, and he’d a reputation to uphold.
“Dare?” Her fetching lips twitched. “Oh, I shall have to think a moment.” Her eyes fell to his waist.
“Bella, we forfeit kisses only, so I expect you to—”
“Remain the lady I was yesterday, when you have enlightened me in so many ways? I think not, husband.” The minx grinned. “I think I shall ask you to kiss me where I like or”—her look turned even more wicked—“dare you to let me kiss you where I’d like.”
Harris instinctively crossed his legs. “Annabelle…”
“Unbutton your fall, sir.”
“Woman,” he pleaded.
“Unbutton your fall, else answer the question truthfully. That is how this game works, is it not?”
Harris stared at the jezebel he’d wrought by his own perverse making and swore effusively in his head. Alas, neither pride nor prick would grant him leeway. He unbuttoned his fall, revealing just how much her words aroused him.
Miss Li had listened intently to Elizabeth’s tale before she offered her sober advice.
“If you’ve still no word of Jasper once you return home, Elizabeth, you must immediately take action.
Do not underestimate Finch. Start your search where you believe your husband last went, at your father’s house, not here with me.
But take men with you for protection. Do not travel unaccompanied.
The bitterness between Jasper and Finch runs deep.
That man will use whatever means he has to strike not only at your husband and your sister, but at you too. ”
Elizabeth’s hopes sank.
“And if Jasper has not returned”—Li gripped Elizabeth’s hand—“send word to me at once. The Duke of Allendale has left for Cumberland, but there are others here in London, friends to both myself and your husband, who will help.”
Elizabeth suddenly wished it were some rival whore she needed to battle for her husband’s attention, rather than this dastardly villain Finch. She squeezed Li’s hand, then nearly ran to the phaeton, driving straight to her father’s house.
There disaster greeted her: Furniture was overturned and papers scattered all about. Shattered china littered the floor alongside drapes ripped from windows. The house had been shabby for years, but carnage such as this violated all that was decent.
Elizabeth’s blood ran cold.
Milton’s man, Marty, approached her in the foyer, but before he could utter a word, her father appeared, wringing his hands. “Oh, Lizzie, it is just terrible! Terrible, what has happened!”
“Papa—”
“Just look what they have done to our home! Everything my wives treasured, all shattered, destroyed!”
Elizabeth’s irritation mounted. “Papa, it is terrible, yes, but tell me—”
“Every treasured wedding gift now—”
“Father!” Elizabeth barked. “Tell me what, exactly, has happened.”
He continued his lament. “Unthinkable that someone should be so—”
“Who?” She gripped his shoulders to shake sense into him. “Who is responsible for this?”
He stared blankly at her. “Why, that’s just it, Lizzie. I’ve no idea why anyone should wish to do this.”
She gave up and searched for Marty. What she found, instead, was a household huddled inside the kitchen, Cook attempting to hush her scullery’s soft weeping. Staff rose as one, chairs scraping the floor, the instant they saw Elizabeth.
“Miss Lizzie!” Cook discarded the maid to press Elizabeth to her breast. “Thank heavens you’ve come.”
“Tell me what has happened. Papa is incoherent.”
Marty stepped forward, looking grim. “A word in private first, ma’am?”
Elizabeth nicked her head. “Cook, put the kettle on. I’ll be but a minute.” She followed Marty out into the same courtyard where her husband had once neatly tossed a butcher—a lifetime ago.
“Ma’am.” Marty lowered his voice. “Finch sent men t’ rough up the place, lookin’ fer somethin’ or someone, an’ I fear they may’ve found ’im.”
“What do you mean, found him? Found whom?”
“Master Milton, ma’am.”
She shook her head. Impossible.
“Took Ginny too, ma’am.”
“Took?” Elizabeth did not believe his words. “Took Ginny where? Where is the Baron?”