Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
It was not bad enough that Arkham had chosen to return to England at the worst of times, but to discover that, for whatever reason, he seemed to have set his sights on Astara, as well as deciding to trade secrets to the French, incited a burning rage in Knox.
He wondered what they were paying him for the deception, or if he had volunteered the information he’d gathered.
He glanced over his shoulder as they entered his coach to make sure Arkham wasn’t in pursuit before he gave the direction of the Watch to his driver.
When they set in motion, he glanced at Astara who was rubbing her hands on her bare arms as if she was trying to return some warmth to her skin.
He moved to the other side of the coach and wrapped his arms around her. He did not like the current situation at hand, because now her safety was in jeopardy.
“Why would he choose to accost me?” she wondered aloud.
Knox had been pondering that very question. “I do not know for certain, unless it is to just strike out at me because of our past grievances.”
She shivered in his arms. “His eyes are so cold, almost soulless. I can believe he has transferred his heart to something black and unforgiving.”
He did not reply but put a hand on her hair and slowly patted. If he could do anything, it would be to make her feel that she wasn’t alone, that she was safe.
When they finally arrived at the Lion’s Watch warehouse, Knox got out and helped Astara down.
It was not commonplace for anyone to be invited into the coveted heart of the headquarters of such a secretive organization, but this was not the time nor the place to discuss matters that he did not consider of true importance.
Blackton wanted proof that Astara was worthy of joining their ranks and tonight showed Knox that she was more than qualified to take on whatever role was presented.
She had a natural ability to discern people’s true nature, and if that did not count for anything, then he was about to offer a free lesson.
Blackton was in Scarsdale’s office writing some sort of correspondence when Knox burst inside.
The marquess glanced up in surprise, his gray whiskers shaking with indignation at being disturbed so abruptly.
“What is the meaning—?” He spied Astara and his face began to turn a mottled shade of red.
“Hampton, what the devil is wrong with you? You know the rules—!”
Rather than be cowed, Knox leaned on the desk and put his face directly in front of Blackton. “I think you are going to want to listen to what I have to say, and after that, you are going to offer Miss Smith an apology for ever doubting her.”
The older man’s mouth fell agape, and although his focus shifted to Astara, she merely stood aside and said nothing in her defense.
Allowing a moment of silence to intrude, Knox announced, “Lord Akham is back in London.”
The mottled shade of anger returned to Blackton’s countenance. He slammed a fist on the top of the desk. “The devil!”
“Indeed. I thought you would listen to that.” Knox straightened. “And it is thanks to Miss Smith that he was recognized as the same man from the ball and who had accosted her at the park.”
The older man’s gaze shifted sharply to Astara. “Are you certain it is the same man?”
“Without a doubt.”
Blackton muttered a curse under his breath and sat back in his chair. “I thought we had seen the last of Arkham years ago.”
“I’d hoped we had,” Knox muttered in return. “But I think we all know what has propelled him to return to English soil.”
“As a spy for the French,” Blackton growled.
“I will need to send word to Scarsdale immediately. This is a new development that he should be apprised of at the earliest opportunity. I shall send a messenger with the news this evening.” He scrubbed a hand down his face.
“How have none of the other agents we have placed around London not bothered to pinpoint this significant detail?”
“Because most of them are not aware of his sordid history as we are,” Knox said grimly.
“It was only through Miss Smith’s intuition that he was discovered as soon as he was.
I might have eventually noticed his resurgence, but until he decided to appear this evening in a brazen challenge, I had no reason to believe he was back.
As far as I know, his father does not care to lay eyes on him ever again after what he did. ”
“I would be inclined to agree with you,” Blackton noted. “However, I think it best to make sure the Marquess of Vale is aware of his return.”
“Indeed. I will pay a visit first thing in the morning.”
“I should like to join you.” Knox turned when Astara spoke.
She walked forward. “Not only is curiosity propelling me to meet the poor parents of Lord Arkham, but I am curious how his father shall receive the news of this sudden resurgence. He might need a gentle hand there to soothe over the situation.”
Knox could not disagree with that reasoning.
He was very matter of fact when it came to such things.
It was likely because of his stodgy upbringing as a duke’s son and his subsequent role when his father had passed.
He had always had certain expectations placed upon him, least of which was his calm demeanor in any situation, no matter how distressing it might be.
“You should get some rest this evening, Hampton,” Blackton said with a direct look. “Tomorrow will likely be a busy day.”
As they left the warehouse, Knox’s mind was whirling with what Blackton had inferred.
Knox would probably be tasked with bringing down Lord Arkham, and while he would relish the opportunity with great enthusiasm, that also meant that he would be forced to leave Astara behind until such time the traitor was dealt with properly.
It could be hours, days, or weeks, depending on how long the earl wanted to taunt him.
If he was working for the French, there was no doubt in Knox’s mind that he had resources at his disposal which he could use to disappear at any time.
Lost to his own musings, he glanced down when a light hand covered his. “I can see how much Arkham bothers you.”
“It has been a long time, but yes, I have not forgiven him for several of the offenses that he has laid at my door and that of others who were innocent of his crimes.”
She squeezed her fingers around his. “I am here for you if you need to talk.”
“Talking is not what I want to do with you.”
Knox cursed his bold tongue, especially when the air shifted and grew heavy inside the coach.
He waited for the explosion, the slap on the face for his indelicate suggestion, but instead, she leaned closer to him from the other side of the coach.
“The day I climbed into your coach, I really wanted to climb on top of you.”
He froze, his lungs suddenly freezing all the air he had. “Astara…”
She shook her head and started to pull back. “You do not have to say anything. I know that the vast difference in our circumstances may prevent you from—”
He reached out and grasped the back of her head, dragging her to him and kissing her with all the passion building inside of him, a raging inferno of need that only she could satisfy.
* * *
Astara sighed in her contentment. Was this really happening? Could it be that the duke wanted her as much as she’d been desperate for him?
She had never told him the truth, that she hadn’t chosen his carriage by accident.
She had known very well who was inside, and she had been waiting anxiously for the chance to gain an introduction.
She’d prayed that he was not as crude as some of the other men in society with whom her path had crossed on the street, but observing his behavior when she was fortunate enough to be in the same vicinity as him, a silent observer from afar, he did not strike her as the same sort of ill-mannered scoundrel who believed they were above reproach just because of the benefit of a title.
He had always been different, and the day she’d nearly fallen into his lap had been one of the most memorable days she’d had in her entire life.
Not only had he been just as charming and witty as she’d imagined he might be, but he had helped her gain access to the Watch, and promised to assist her in locating her true family.
She could not think of a more honorable man to bestow the gift of her innocence.
She boldly allowed her hand to travel downward to where his hard shaft was straining against his trousers.
Although she had not been tried, she had been inside plenty of bawdy houses, some of the women she’d befriended having snuck her inside in the evening when the cold outside had been more than her simple flat could heat.
The talks that had been shared among her peers had prepared her for everything she might need to know, at least when it came to a man and his anatomy.
When Knox broke the kiss and hissed between his teeth, he growled, “You seem rather experienced in the field of seduction.”
“Experienced to a point,” she agreed. When he looked at her, heat flashing in his gaze, but also an unspoken query, she added, “I want this as much as you. I promise there will be no regrets and no hesitation.”
He seemed to comprehend what she was trying to say, as he reached out and cupped her cheek with infinite gentleness. “I am always considerate of my lovers, regardless of their expertise. You have nothing to fear from me.”
Astara nodded. “I know.”
The carriage pulled to a halt at that moment, as if waiting for her final acquiescence.
After the door opened, Knox climbed down, but instead of allowing Astara to do the same, he reached inside the coach and lifted her around the waist then swung her to the ground.
She laughed, a bit breathless, and he kissed her soundly right in the middle of the darkened street, heedless if they might be observed from curious passersby.