Chapter Twelve

D ear lord, he tasted like pure sin. She parted her lips for him, enjoying the passionate slide of his. He let out a low moan as their tongues tangled. His mouth was so hot she felt a flush race down her throat and across her chest. One of his hands grasped the back of her neck, keeping her in place as he explored. She should have known she was playing with fire when she touched him. Hart was no boy with shy, chaste kisses. He was a volcano of heat and fire. Lucy grasped his shoulders and kissed him back with every fiber of her being. She would not waste one moment of being in his embrace.

Hart’s other hand gripped her bottom, pulling her tightly against him. She held on as he changed the angle of their kiss, sipping on her lips with a series of small kisses, then he nipped at her bottom lip. Their breath mingled. Lucy’s heart raced. This was what she’d dreamed about. Wrapped in his arms, his heartbeat under her palm. No one else could make her feel this desperate or this precious. He moved his lips across her cheek to kiss her temple. She opened her eyes, staring at his silky dark hair as he sucked in a deep breath.

“Lucy, you are exquisite. I shouldn’t be kissing you. I don’t deserve to even touch you. You belong to someone else.”

She gulped. Why had she been so stupid? There is no one else!

“You are young and have a bright future.” He continued as though he was trying to convince himself to let go of her. “I shouldn’t be tasting what is not mine.”

And then he did let go of her. His hands left where they had held her so firmly in place for his tender plunder to fall to her waist. He lifted her off his lap and set her on her feet. “I should go.”

Lucy stood dumbfounded. Had she done something wrong? She opened her mouth but did not know what to say to make him stay. She had bared her heart to him once before, and he had refused to accept it. She wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. Squaring her shoulders, she stepped back as he stood. Why didn’t he see how they were meant to be together? Why had he kissed her if only to turn away?

Anger, hot and bright erupted in her chest. “You rogue.”

“I’m sorry, Lucy.”

“Sorry for what.” She threw her hands into the air in frustration. “You don’t have any idea why I’m upset.”

Why didn’t he want her? When she felt tears threaten behind her eyes, she spun on her heel and stormed from the room. Blast him to hell. She would not show him how vulnerable she felt right now. She was strong and fierce. She had to be to survive as a woman in this world. She raced up the stairs to her room and slammed the door shut with a satisfying bang. Leaning back against it, she drew in several deep breaths. She already regretted her outburst. She should have stayed calm and attempted to seduce him further with her feminine wiles. Ha! What feminine wiles did she have?

She made her way slowly to the bed and flopped down onto the soft counterpane. Putting her hands to her face, she let out a groan. The sear of Hart’s kisses, his firm lips teasing and tasting hers, had been so much better than her fantasies. And she held many fantasies of what it would be like to be in his arms. But those had always ended in the two of them naked in bed and Hart teaching her all the wicked sensual things he must know.

Lucy ran her hands slowly over her heated cheeks and down her throat, grazing over her tight, puckered nipples. She was hot and damp between her thighs and so very frustrated. With him and his damned rationalizations, with herself and her stupid temper. She allowed herself one long dramatic sigh, then she slid off the bed and crossed the room to ring for her maid. Tomorrow was another day, and she was still curious about the Knot of Isis. She would go do some sleuthing for herself.

*

The Blue Angel did not look at all like Lucy had imagined. Perhaps, because it was the middle of the morning, and the sun shone brightly against the spotless windowpanes of the house, but the place looked domestic rather than sordid. She tipped her head up. The brick building’s facade rose three stories tall and spanned at least a hundred feet wide. The black front door was plain; the only ornamentation was a simple brass knocker. Adding to the domestic feeling were boxes of flowers in a riot of colors that peeked through the iron bars which encased the ground-level windows.

Lucy stood on the pavement with a hand up to shield her eyes as she searched for the Knot of Isis. Next to the door, a simple brass plaque proclaimed the establishment’s name. The Blue Angel. Who exactly was the Blue Angel? She lifted her gaze to the stone header above the door. There you are. The Knot of Isis.

Lucy jumped when the door to the Blue Angel opened. A bearded man stepped outside. He paused when he spotted her, his hand still on the doorknob. His gaze swept over her from top to bottom in a slow perusal.

Then he shut the door behind him and placed his hat on his head. “Performers go around back. See Mrs. Langley.”

“Pardon?” Lucy replied.

“Dancing girls report around back.”

“Oh, I’m not a performer. I am Miss Lucy Middleton. I’m here about that.” She pointed up to the Knot of Isis.

The man twisted to look up to where she pointed. “About what?”

“That symbol there, above the door. It’s called the Knot of Isis. It is an Egyptian symbol that means to protect against one’s enemies.”

“Huh, I’ve never noticed it before.” The man turned back to her. “Well, Miss Lucy Middleton, I am Matthew Reeves, and this is my club. Thank you for the interesting tidbit, but I must be going.”

“Actually, I have a question about this place. Perhaps you could indulge me for just a moment.”

Mr. Reeves smiled and stepped toward her. “I suppose I have a moment for such a beautiful lady on this fine morning.”

“Lucy?” A loud exclamation rang through the air.

She and Mr. Reeves both turned. Hart was striding toward them from up the street.

He came to stop in front of her a moment later. “Lucy, what in god’s name are you doing here?” Taking her arm, he pulled her to his side before turning to glare at Mr. Reeves.

But the man appeared nonplussed by Hart’s scowl. He tipped his hat. “The lady and I were just having a lovely discussion about this here symbol. The Knot of…”

“Isis,” Lucy supplied. “I was just about to ask Mr. Reeves if he knew any history of this building. Has your establishment been here long?”

Hart’s shoulders relaxed infinitesimally, but he did not let go of her upper arm, keeping her anchored next to him.

If the quirk of Mr. Reeves’s lips was any indication, he noticed this as well. “I’ve owned the Blue Angel for five years, but the building itself belongs to my silent partner, Mr. Seaton. In fact, he owns everything on this block and the next. Perhaps he would know more about the building’s idiosyncrasies, like your symbol up there.”

“Do you know where we might find Mr. Seaton?” Hart asked.

“Not really,” Mr. Reeves replied.

“Oh please, Mr. Reeves. We just want to ask him a few questions. I must satisfy my curiosity about why this symbol is on this particular building.”

“She is quite tenacious when she is trying to figure something out. You should see her play chess,” Hart added.

Mr. Reeves looked back at her. Lucy cast him a wide-eyed and innocent look.

He sighed. “I honestly don’t know where he keeps a residence, but he does stop in here regularly. I suppose I could give him your card and a message when I see him next.”

Hart reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a slim silver case, extracting from it a calling card. He passed it to Mr. Reeves. “Please ask him to contact me.”

Mr. Reeves’s eyebrows shot up as he read the name on the card. No doubt, he wondered what the Duke of Hartwick was doing on the east side.

But he slipped it into his pocket and gave Lucy a wide smile. “Good day, Miss Middleton.” Then he strode off down the street.

“Lucy Eleanor Middleton, what do you think you are doing?” Hart glowered down at her. “This neighborhood is no place for a lady. Especially alone!”

She deliberately took a step back out of his grip. “The same thing you are doing here, I imagine. Following the clue we found out about last night.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest, sending her own glare his way. “And besides, my coachman is right there.” She waved across the street at Hugh, who stood feeding an apple to her carriage horse.

He tipped his cap. “You ready to go, miss?”

“Yes, I am,” she called back. Then she turned to cross the street.

Hart immediately fell in step beside her. “Lucy, you should have left the investigating up to me. This is my problem.” He opened the door to the coach. Then he cupped her cheek with one hand. “Please, don’t put yourself at risk.”

The urge to lean into his touch was immediate, so instead, she pulled back. “I was curious, just as you were. Hart, having someone trying to kill you is more than just a problem .” She poked her finger at his chest. “And even though I am currently cross with you, I do care whether or not you die.” Then before she could weaken in her resolve to stay angry with him, she stepped up into the carriage. “Good day, Your Grace.”