Chapter 15 #2
He had thought of that as well. “Nothing is going to happen to you.”
“Me? I’m not the one with a split lip and bloody head.”
Hugh remembered his swollen lip and gingerly touched it. He winced. Audrey sighed and came around the desk, to stand behind his chair.
“What are you doing?” he asked, flinching when she reached for his head.
“Sit still,” she admonished. Her fingers delved tenderly into his hair, but even then, his scalp stung. “This looks serious, Hugh.”
“Thornton declared me hale and hearty, though possibly concussed.”
Her fingers continued to probe around the wound. “Gracious, what did they strike you with? You could have been killed.”
Hugh reached up and back and wrapped his hand around her wrist. Gently, he dislodged her hand from his hair and swiveled in his chair, still grasping her wrist. He kissed the tips of her fingers. “I am fine.”
Some of the rigidity went out of her shoulders and arms. Hugh didn’t want to release her, so he adjusted his hold on her wrist, taking her hand instead.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “For earlier. Our discussion—”
“It was an argument,” she corrected.
“Which I would rather not do again any time soon.”
She gave a soft nod, and at the tamping of her ire, he gave a tug on her arm. She easily came down into his lap. His bruises protested, and he grunted.
“You’re too hurt,” she said, starting to rise again. He flexed his arms and brought her down harder. He swallowed the grunt this time.
“I am far better with you here,” he told her.
A little grin of satisfaction touched her lips. But then it flattened out. “We can discuss our argument later. First, I should tell you that I think I know where the Sanctuary is.”
He pulled back. “Where?”
“If I’m correct, it neighbors Vauxhall, on Burdick Close.”
She quickly told him about her and Sir’s foot chase after a carriage like the one from her vision, then of running into the two men from her visions—in a literal sense.
Hugh straightened in the chair, sparks igniting in his chest. “You came face to face with them?”
“They were exiting an arched alley with an open gate…I think because the coach had just turned through it.”
“They are murderers.” And she’d spoken to them. More of the same familiar agitation, like what had inspired their earlier argument, built up underneath his skin.
“Most assuredly, but that isn’t the point. The point is that this is very likely where the Sanctuary is located.”
He suppressed the instinct to point out how much danger she’d put herself in, chasing after the marked coach. It would only anger her.
“Well done,” he said instead. “Now we must determine what to do with that information.” So far, even speaking about the Sanctuary could be deadly. Stepping foot inside, uninvited, was surely just as perilous.
He leaned his head back. It was nearly three in the morning. His whole body throbbed, and he needed sleep. And yet he wouldn’t have dislodged Audrey from his lap unless the whole house caught ablaze, forcing them from their cozy nest. He rubbed small circles on her lower back, where he braced her.
She traced her thumb over his injured lip. Then dropped her hand back into her lap.
“What kind of place was it?” she asked. Then, more faintly, “What specialty?”
Hugh had wondered if she would ask. He’d seen the questions in her eyes when Sir Gabriel had mentioned it.
“It’s untoward,” he replied.
“As we are to marry,” she shifted position in his lap and drew her legs up so that her knees rested against his abdomen, “we can speak of untoward things together, can we not?”
That suggestive reasoning made him want to toss her over his shoulder and carry her up to his room.
“We are still marrying, then, even after our argument?” He wasn’t too proud to admit that he’d wondered if she would change her mind.
“Only if you can accept that I won’t change. And that I won’t always do exactly as you wish.”
“Even if all I wish it to keep you safe?”
“Even then.”
Hugh ran his palm up her leg, to her knee, over the muslin of her gown. “I don’t want you to change. Ever. But I will tell you if I think something is dangerous. Or if you’re being rash.”
She hooked her arms atop his shoulders and linked her hands around his neck. “Very well. Now, tell me about the Red Lotus.”
As discomfited as he’d been while inside the brothel itself, discussing it now with Audrey brought his blood up. “Flagellation.”
She frowned. “Being struck?”
“Pain in general. There are men who enjoy it, and places like the Red Lotus cater to them.”
Audrey’s fingertips curled around the hair at his neck. “What other kinds of specialties are there?” Hugh shifted his position in the chair, and she pinned her bottom lip. “Do you have any interests?”
The little minx. She knew what she was doing to him, even if she was genuinely innocent regarding the topic.
“My interest is solely in you,” he answered.
She leaned closer and brushed her lips against his, though she avoided his lower lip, mindful of his injury. The slow, languid kiss, even if only concentrated to his upper lip, made him coil inside. But then, she pulled away.
“I’ll go,” she said, beginning to slide from his lap. He hauled her back into place.
“No, stay. I’ve missed you.” He kissed her again, uncaring of his painful bottom lip.
Spiced notes of sherry lingered on her tongue, and during the next several minutes, Hugh’s hand renewed its earlier pursuit under the hem of her skirt.
No argument interrupted the seeking of pleasure this time.
He kept his mouth adhered to hers, swallowing the soft, decadent sounds she made.
However, delighting in the full scope of his future bride would require leading her upstairs.
But even as he made the request, he knew she would not agree.
“I can’t. Carrigan is waiting outside. Besides, we both need rest if we are going to the Sanctuary tomorrow.”
He’d been nuzzling her neck, but now went still. “This is what I meant by too rash.”
“Not alone,” she insisted, pushing off his lap and out of his arms. She swept into the front hall. “We need to bring some Bow Street men. Who do you trust?”
Hugh followed, only to find Whitlock snoring in the porter’s chair. He shook his head and fetched Audrey’s pelisse and hat himself.
“Other than Sir Gabriel?” he said, thinking. “Stevens.”
“But he’s Tyne’s partner.”
“Yes. But Tyne is a bully, and something tells me Stevens would be happy to see him gone.” Hugh helped Audrey into her pelisse, but as he did, he turned her to face him and gripped her shoulders.
“Finding the Sanctuary is only a small part of this. We need a suspect and evidence against him. At this point, we have nothing.”
“Bethany’s last known location was the Sanctuary. It should be enough for Sir Gabriel to insist on questioning someone there, especially now that we know where it is.”
Hugh nodded. “All right. I’ll visit Sir Gabriel first thing tomorrow.” He recalled his plan to visit Mr. Gye with Thornton as well. However, right then he was far too exhausted to explain what he and Thornton had theorized, about the Sanctuary having some vendetta against the pleasure gardens.
She opened the front door. “And then we will go to Burdick Close. Don’t bother to argue about my presence. The sooner we figure this out, the sooner we can marry, and that means the sooner I can discover what your specialty interest really is.”
Audrey then whirled through the front door, shutting it behind her. Hugh stood in the sudden silence, speechless.
“What’s your specialty interest?”
Hugh turned. Sir was on the stairs, arms and ankles crossed as he leaned against the wall.
“How long have you been standing there?” He glimpsed the opening to the study, wondering about the view from there. Thankfully, his desk and chair weren’t in sight.
“Long enough to suspect she’s always going to get what she wants.”
Hugh locked the door and after a snort from the sleeping butler, started back for his study. “Go to bed, Sir.”