Chapter 6

6

She tasted of cream cakes and champagne. Joshua's fevered brain allowed him that thought before all intelligent communication left him utterly. Her lips were more than he remembered. More soft. More plump. More warm. More demanding. When she traced her tongue across the bottom of his upper lip he opened to her and swore the fireworks explosions in the sky had to be his body flying apart.

He wrapped his tongue around hers drawing on the sweet, sizzling taste of her. She ran her fingers in the hair at the back of his head and held him in place whilst she plundered his mouth like a pirate boarding a captured vessel. And, God help him, he surrendered. She took charge of the kiss and sucked his tongue back into her mouth. She slanted her lips first one way and they another as if she could not get enough of him.

Joshua grasped her arse in his hands and turned her around until they were face to face. He lifted her leg and raised it over the bench and his lap until she was straddling him. Then he pulled her close and lifted her so her lower body rested flush against his aching cock. She ended the kiss with a deep sigh, slowly drawing back until she rested her forehead against his heaving chest. She stroked his face with her fingertips. Each touch produced a hot shiver he could not suppress. He turned his head to kiss her palms as she caressed him.

Her ivory flesh glowed in the light of moon and the few lanterns about them. He placed his hands beneath her breasts and ran his thumbs back and forth across the satiny fabric that covered her nipples. She moaned and tilted her head back which allowed him to run his teeth down one side of her neck and kiss his way from one collarbone to the other. He pressed long, wet kisses across every inch of her chest revealed by the cut of her bodice. With care he cupped and squeezed her breasts so he could run his tongue between the narrow cleft her dress created.

Joshua longed to strip the dress from her and see her naked in the moonlight. What little bit of sense he retained stopped him. She began to rub against his belly, breathing in soft little gasps at every stroke. Her cape had fallen to the grass beside the bench. He rolled the soft velvet garment up and placed it at the end of the bench. When he leaned against her and placed his hands against her back she lay down instinctively, one arm across her eyes. Her chest rose and fell quickly as he ran his hands beneath her skirts and caressed her silk clad thighs. He rolled up the satin and spangled material until she lay bare from the waist down.

He smiled. Even in this dark light he saw the glistening of her arousal on the soft curls of her cunny. With his forefinger he drew a line from her belly down between her damp nether lips. She dropped her arm to the side of the bench and tried to sit up.

"Shhh." His voice was a dark whisper. "You kissed me. Now I want to kiss you." He slid his hands behind her buttocks, shifted back on the bench and bent his head to run his tongue up the path his finger had taken. Sophia buck violently against him. He held her fast and feasted on her wet, swollen flesh. He teased her with flicks of his tongue before plunging it inside her as he squeezed her buttocks. She loosed a strained squeal and then covered her mouth with her hand.

Joshua sucked and licked. He brought her to the edge over and over. She pulsed her hips against his marauding mouth in search of relief, each time harder and faster. Her muffled cries and dark moans vibrated against his lips. When her entire body began to shake in his hands he seized the point of her pleasure and drew hard in one long, unrelenting pull. He heard the hoarse cry deep in her throat. She thrust her hips so hard he feared she might black his eye. Not that he cared.

No, when he finally released her and raised his head, all he cared for was the expression of bliss and wonder on her face in the moonlight. He lowered her skirts and drew her into his lap. She sank her teeth into the spot just above where the side of his neck was covered by his neckcloth. Her breath was hot and quick against his skin. She whispered something softly.

"What, love? What do you want?" He could hardly speak. His throat was raw and dry.

"More."

She did not have to say another word. He helped her to stand and wrapped her cloak around her, pulling up the hood to cover her face. She scooped up her mask, but did not don the silvery shield. They walked hand in hand back up the Dark Walk, followed closely by the Rutherfords, and directly out through the proprietor's house to where the carriage waited.

Joshua beckoned to the coachman to lean down from his box. "Go through Hyde Park." The man looked to Sophia who smiled and nodded. The two underbutlers had just enough time to jump onto their seat at the back of the carriage. Sophia and he were in the carriage with the door closed in a trice. The carriage lurched into motion and Joshua practically fell into the front-facing seat.

"Oofff." He opened his arms just in time to catch Sophia as she pushed back the hood, straddled his lap, and kissed him fiercely. Then her hands were at the buttons of his falls. Her nimble harpist's fingers made quick work of them, and his freed cock sprang into her hands. He helped her push her skirts up and back. She rose on her knees and with his help placed the head of his cock at her entrance. With a harsh cry she lowered herself onto him until he was fully seated inside her wet, pulsing cunny.

Joshua threw back his head and groaned at the powerful shock of fiery sensation that vibrated from his bollocks up his body into his chest. Sophia braced her hands on his shoulders and began a slow rise and fall up and down his cock. She shifted and angled her body until the still swollen spot at the top of her sex brushed against him. Her sharp cry set him in motion. He gripped her hips and helped her to ride him fast and hard. Their cries mingled in a rhythm that matched the tight strokes of her body around his cock. Completion came quickly for both of them and he held her hips fast as he pumped the last strokes into her eager flesh.

"Damn," he gasped as she collapsed against him. "I think you've killed me."

She laughed against his lips. "I hope not." She knocked the roof of the carriage and he felt the coachman turn them toward Grosvenor Street. "We still have to leave this carriage and look as if we've engaged in nothing but intellectual conversation." She slowly slid off him and retreated to the rear-facing seat. He used his handkerchief to clean himself then handed the silk square to her.

By the time he buttoned his falls and righted his neckcloth and hair as best he could, she had straightened her gown and patted her hair back into place. She handed him his handkerchief which he tucked into his jacket pocket. He'd not be allowing any of the maids in Sophia's home to do his laundry tomorrow. When he looked up at her, Sophia was studying him with an expression he could not for the life of him define.

As the carriage turned onto Grosvenor Street, she reached for his hand.

"We're in trouble, aren't we?" he finally asked.

"I fear we are, Joshua. I fear we truly are."

Joshua stepped out of the King's Opera House and glanced back at the impressive edifice. He'd just dropped off his orchestrations for Weber's opera Oberon and collected his fee. He'd managed to dodge most of the questions of his friends and fellow musicians about where he'd been and what he was doing. Those in the opera community in London were a gossip-prone crowd, but they also respected each other's privacy in many things. Every musician in London had secrets they wished to keep to themselves and things they did for money alone simply to survive.

"Ready, Mr. Norcross?" Lady Camilla's coachman asked from the box of the carriage drawn up in front of the opera house. A fine icy drizzle of rain had begun to fall, washing the cobbled streets and ensuring Joshua was fully awake in spite of his lack of sleep.

"Is any man ever ready for an audience with Lady Camilla?" he asked as he opened the carriage door.

"I'll not answer that question for all the blunt in Rothschild's Bank, sir." The coachman tapped his hat with a grin.

"Wise man. Let's be about it then." Joshua climbed into the carriage and closed the door as the vehicle pulled away from the opera house and headed toward St. James Square. The past few days had been nothing less than a ride on a runaway horse into a burning stable. He knew no other way to describe his and Sophia's time together since their night at Vauxhall.

There were moments they spent as any other music master and student. Sophia was a quick study, but a demanding one. With every little thing she mastered, she demanded to know more. In those moments his behavior was professional and he earnestly wished to teach her every last mystery of the reading and writing of music. Then came the split seconds when they could not resist the sensual lure between them and ended up in each other's arms. Their kisses were fevered, frantic, and the threat of being caught only added to the thrill. Until suddenly Sophia would seem to awaken as if from a spell. She'd ease out of his arms, declaring how dangerous their passion was for both of them.

She was right, of course. They were playing with fire in more ways than one. He'd intended to befriend her, seduce her only if necessary, but he'd never dreamed things would go as far as they had. She was another man's mistress. She was a woman with secrets. And he was the scoundrel who was supposed to discover those secrets in the hope of buying his dreams with the price of his betrayal. Which had sounded like the perfect plan, until he met Sophia Hawksworth, talked with her, laughed with her, made music with her, and shared his body with her in a way that had left him shaken to his very core.

He wanted more. He wanted to share her bed and have her share his dreams of establishing his own opera house. He wanted to write music with her and simply spend time with her, which was the most frightening thought of all. Every time she withdrew from him it hurt, physically hurt, dammit. Which was never part of his plan. Neither was lying awake every night listening in vain for Sophia to steal down from her third-floor bedchamber until he was either exhausted or forced to take matters into his hand, so to speak.

"You simply must retain control of yourself," he muttered as he scrubbed his hands over his face and violently shook his head. The last thing he needed was for Lady Camilla, or God forbid, the Earl of Framlingwood to know precisely how deeply he was involved with the woman he was supposed to be investigating. He'd been summoned by Lady Camilla to a meeting with Archer Colwyn and Stephen Forsythe. They'd apparently discovered some information they felt he needed to know. Or at least that was what Lady Camilla's cryptic note had said. He assumed she and the earl would be in attendance as well.

Suddenly, he didn't want to know. He felt wrong, dirty even, for prying into Sophia's private life like this. She had no idea there were several people digging into her past to discover if she was a murderess of all things. All they had to do was ask him. He knew in his soul she had never murdered anyone. Did she have secrets, dark ones? Yes, but murder was not one of them.

"Good morning, Mr. Norcross," Raines said as he opened Lady Camilla's front door and ushered him into the foyer. Once he'd handed off his hat and gloves, he followed the butler upstairs to Lady Camilla's private parlor. Or as he and the other young men she'd given refuge over the years called the room, The Inquisition. Once inside, however, he was surprised to find the Earl of Framlingwood, his employer, was not there.

"Come in, Norcross," Lady Camilla said. "Do sit down. Tea?" She indicated the chair next to her chaise. "To warm you. Rather cold and damp out there today."

"Yes, please." He settled into the chair and took the cup of tea she handed him. Col and Sythe sat in chairs opposite him and Lady Camilla. They were eerily quiet, which unnerved him a bit. He took two sips of his tea and placed the cup on the marquetry table next to him. "Will the earl be joining us?" Might as well start out as he meant to go on.

"No," Col said. "There are things we need to discuss which he need not be privy to, at least not until necessary."

"What does that mean?" Joshua had the distinct sensation the Bow Street runner was trying to make a point. One he was not going to like.

"Framlingwood has shown himself to be a somewhat impatient man. Especially where his mistress is concerned. He tends to go off half-cock, and that is not helpful given the current state of things with Mrs. Hawksworth."

"What state of things? Is Sophia in danger?"

"Sophia?" Col gave him an arch look. "Possibly. Which is why we are informing you of what we have learned."

"Which is what? And how long have you—"

"I told you two," Lady Camilla said with a sigh. "You should let me explain so he doesn't become upset." She took up her teacup and peered at all three of them over the rim as she sipped.

Joshua took a deep breath. "I am not upset. I assumed as her bodyguard in addition to being her music master I might be informed if the lady is in danger." He leaned back in his chair and propped one foot on his knee.

"That was very good," the Bow Street runner said. "I almost believed you."

Joshua bit back a nasty curse.

Sythe drew several opened letters from the portfolio at his feet. "This letter was sent to the current vicar at St. Giles in the Fields. The sender is a solicitor for the estate of the late Mrs. Lewis Green in Kent."

Joshua took the letter and quickly read the contents. "He is inquiring after a Mrs. Edward Green. Who is she? Who is Edward Green?" His stomach began to tighten in smaller and smaller knots.

"He was the vicar at St. Giles until 1823 when his badly beaten body was fished out of the Thames." Col handed him some papers bearing the official Bow Street seal.

"He was also the late Mrs. Green's heir." Sythe took the letter back. "After his death, her will stipulates that the inheritance pass to his widow, one Sophie Richards Green. According to the present vicar," he continued as he presented Joshua with another letter. "The Reverend Green misplaced his wife sometime in 1819, a year after he married her."

"Misplaced? What the hell does that mean? Pardon, Lady Camilla." In spite of the roaring fire Lady Camilla always kept in her parlor his blood ran cold in his veins and he nearly shivered as the chill invaded his body.

She rolled her eyes and added more sugar to her tea.

"The earl's mistress left her husband after a year of marriage, went to work at Goodrum's, and four years later suddenly became the Earl of Framlingwood's mistress approximately six weeks before her husband's unfortunate demise." Col took the Bow Street papers back from Joshua's shaking hand.

"You're saying Sophia Hawksworth is this Sophie Green?" Joshua knew how desperate his question sounded. He was being asked to take in too many ideas at once. He didn't want to hear any of them, let alone entertain the suspicions they were so obviously airing.

"She is Sophie Green, Norcross. Do try to keep up." Sythe handed him another letter. He glared at the barrister before he tried to concentrate on the scrawled lines on the parchment. The letter was dated a few weeks past. Yet another inquiry as to the whereabouts of Mrs. Edward Green. But this missive was signed by one Martin Green of Chiddingstone in Kent. Joshua read the words once more. Martin Green was brother to Edward. He looked to Col and Sythe as he handed the latter back.

"How did you discover this information? I doubt either the St. Giles vicar or this Edward Green's brother simply came to you in search of Sophia. What is the point of all of this, gentlemen?"

"Martin Green is here in London. He has begun making inquiries in some of the lowest dens of thieves and murderers in Seven Dials. And he began making inquiries almost at the moment Framlingwood received the latest blackmail note."

"Are the two working together? Is this a simple coincidence?" Joshua pushed out of the chair and began to pace the room. "Dammit, you two, what does this have to do with Sophia?" He ran a hand through his hair and turned to find Lady Camilla's sympathetic gaze trained on him.

"They don't know, Joshua," she said softly. "We simply thought you should be informed. Come and sit down."

"Informed as to what? That there may be two men seeking her, that mean her harm, working separately or together?" He waved a hand at Sythe and Col. "That these two believe she may have murdered her husband? This is a nightmare?"

"I suspect it is a nightmare Mrs. Hawksworth has lived her entire life," Lady Camilla continued. "If you wish to leave your position in her house say so now. This nightmare is only going to get worse long before it grows better. Do sit down. You are wearing my carpets."

Joshua dropped back into his chair. "Of course I don't want to leave. I will not desert her, especially not now that you've told me she is in even more danger."

"I suspected as much," Sythe said with an oddly smug expression on his face.

"What do you mean by that?" Joshua had grown tired of the barrister's hints and innuendos. They acted as if they were keeping him informed when he believed they were trying to draw him out and were keeping most of the information they had to themselves.

"Did Mrs. Hawksworth enjoy Vauxhall?" Col asked.

"How did you—Atherton, of course." Joshua refrained from taking a breath. He stilled and thought long and hard before he responded. Lady Camilla's spies were everywhere. He should have known. "She enjoyed the music very much. She was cloaked and wore a mask the entire time. Why do you ask?"

"No reason," Col answered. "Save you might want to limit her excursions until we discover more about the blackmailer."

"And more about her brother-in-law's intentions," Sythe added. "What has she told you about her life, Norcross? About her marriage?"

He hadn't thought of that. In this entire conversation he had not thought to what Sophia had told him about her marriage, her husband, and how it all ended. "She…told me he died seven years ago. They were married for a year and he died. That was the reason she went to work at Goodrum's."

"Nothing more?" Col prompted.

"No. Nothing." She'd lied to him, about when her husband died at least. Why?

"Framlingwood is under the impression she does not know her husband is dead. She told him she ran away and is in hiding from her husband." Sythe exchanged a look with Col.

He had to leave. There was nothing more he cared to hear, not about Sophia. Not about any of this. He needed time to think.

"Is that all?" he said as he got to his feet. "I have some appointments to keep."

"Norcross, we need to discuss this. She lied to Framlingwood. She lied to you. We have one, perhaps two men who may or may not wish her harm. We have a blackmailer in play who nearly murdered Adrienne Godot."

"You're the Bow Street man, Colwyn. You and our barrister here are more than capable of solving this mystery without me. It is my job to keep the lady safe. That is what I intend to do. I've told you everything I've learned from her. If I learn more I'll send you a note. If you learn more I trust you'll do the same." He executed a short bow to Lady Camilla. "Thank you, milady. Good day." He marched out of the room, but not before he took in their stunned expressions.

Good. He bloody well didn't want to be the only one whose head was spinning like a child's top. He needed information, and he was damned well going to get it from the source. He'd start in Seven Dials.