Chapter 19

nineteen

R OYSTON WASN'T A politician.

He aspired to hold a seat in the House of Lords, but he preferred taking action to negotiating with only his oratorical skill, which wasn't great. Last night's unfortunate incident with Mrs. Haywood was proof of that.

He should have handled the situation better, made his argument stronger. Instead, Mrs. Haywood had been furious with him, and Angeline hadn't agreed to marry him. Understandable. Instead of talking about how achingly he cared about Angeline, he'd discussed with her the practical aspects of being married.

Havisham's behaviour left him perplexed. If he'd set up the break-in and the police, Royston couldn't understand why. His motive was missing. The evidence pointed at Mrs. Haywood, but the list was nowhere to be found, and he didn't trust her. Angeline instead loved her mother too much to be objective.

Royston was in his sitting room, pondering his next move, when the butler announced the earl had just arrived. Speaking of the devil.

"Shall I let Lord Havisham in, my lord?" Enright asked. "Or shall I tell him you aren't receiving anyone today?"

Tempting. But if he wanted to understand what Havisham had in mind, he should pretend not to have figured out anything.

"Let him in, Enright, and please bring tea."

Havisham walked into the room with tentative steps, his face pale. His hair was dishevelled, and the handkerchief in his breast pocket seemed to have been stuffed without regard for the fabric.

"Wharton, thank you for seeing me without notice."

As usual. "Havisham. It's becoming a habit. Please take a seat."

The earl didn't talk until Enright had served the tea and left the room.

"What upsets you?" Royston asked. Your plan didn't go as you wanted, did it?

"How did last night go? You didn't send me any messages."

"A fiasco, I'd dare to say. I didn't find anything else in the safe." He watched Havisham for any reaction.

The earl ignored his tea. "Did you break into the house?"

"I did. Everything went well."

The earl frowned. "Miss Haywood was at home though. She didn't come to the soirée."

He huffed as if it didn't matter. "She was sound asleep. She didn't rouse, and I'm quite silent."

The frown deepened. "I see."

"Do you have any idea where Mrs. Haywood might keep the infamous list?"

"No. Perhaps you could try again. Search other rooms. I'll organise something else to keep Mrs. and Miss Haywood busy."

No, enough. Royston wouldn't play that game again. Mrs. Haywood wasn't a saint, but Havisham wasn't innocent either. Royston had followed enough pieces of advice from the earl.

"Havisham, I don't intend to break into Mrs. Haywood's house again."

"Well, if you don't want to help those women, it's up to you. I thought you cared."

Royston straightened. No, the guilt trick wouldn't work. "I can't keep breaking the law." He stared at the earl. "Sooner or later, someone might notice and warn the police."

Havisham lost his concerned expression, his facial muscles tightening.

"Besides, I can have a simple chat with Mrs. Haywood about her illegal activities." Something he should have done a while ago. "Once I'm a member of the House of Lords, things will be different."

"Of course." He lifted his cup and put it down without drinking. "Well, I hope you'll be present at the next ball. Lady Redvers will be delighted to have your appointment as a member of the House of Lords announced at her event. If she agrees to invite you, of course."

"Of course." Yes, Royston had every intention of talking with Lady Redvers, or rather, with her husband.

As the earl left, Royston wondered who the liar was.

After Havisham left as quickly as he'd arrived, Royston sipped his tea.

He both winced and smiled when he rubbed his arm. Winced because the wound bloody hurt, and smiled because it made him think of Angeline. She could have killed him. She knew how to take care of herself. He shouldn't find her so adorable.

Hell, he wanted to marry her. His marriage proposal had shocked her, and not in a good way. He'd expected her to say yes immediately. There was a lesson for him to learn.

He leant back in the armchair in his drawing room. The warm hearth spread a nice glow that soothed his nerves as he read the latest issue of the Weekly Information Bulletin from the House of Commons.

In the past two years, he'd studied everything about the law, but he still had problems understanding all the nuances of the legal publications. If he wanted a seat in Parliament, he needed to become fluent in law.

A dull thud came from the window. He bolted upright. A blob of gum was splattered on the glass, attached to an arrow. Angeline. He opened the window and snatched the arrow from the glass. A piece of paper was wrapped around the shaft.

I'm here. May I see you? A .

He stuck his head out of the window but didn't see anyone. Grinning, he walked down to the kitchen. The voices of his butler and housekeeper came. They were always the last servants to retire to their rooms.

He entered the kitchen, feeling uncomfortable because, years ago, he'd spent a lot of time in a kitchen, but now he didn't have many reasons to.

"Enright, Mrs. Lawerence."

They stood up from the chairs around the table in a flutter of action.

"My lord." Enright bowed, and Mrs. Lawerence curtsied. "Do you need anything?"

"You may retire for the night. I have everything I need. Thank you." It was the first time he'd asked them to leave the kitchen early. He wasn't fooling anyone.

"What about your nightcap, my lord?" Mrs. Lawrence asked.

"I'm not in the mood tonight."

"Would you like me to check the windows?" Enright asked.

Bugger. He appreciated his employees' efficiency, but as a former thief, he knew how to keep his house safe.

He waved a dismissive hand. "No, it's fine."

Mrs. Lawrence fought a smile. She might have understood his eagerness to be alone. "Then we'll retire, my lord, and see you in the morning."

"Excellent. I'll be in the drawing room, reading for a while."

Enright frowned. Mrs. Lawrence offered a polite nod. Royston returned to the drawing room with a vague sense of guilt.

He paced, worried Angeline would leave before he had the chance to let her in. He exhaled when the sound of doors shutting came, a sign that his butler and housekeeper were in their bedrooms. Finally. The things a grown man had to do for a bit of privacy.

As he walked towards the rear door, he felt like a lad, scared of being caught red-handed by his parents, doing something he shouldn't. He inched the door open and muttered a curse when the hinges let out a screeching noise that left a trail of goosebumps on his skin.

He paused, waiting for one of his servants to come. Either Enright and Mrs. Lawrence were the two fastest people to fall asleep, or they were pretending not to hear. Anyway. The important thing was that Angeline's reputation remained intact.

"Angeline?" he whispered. "You can come out."

A soft rustle of dry leaves being crunched rose from the shadows, and Angeline emerged, wrapped in a long cloak. A hood hid her features. Her bow was slung on a shoulder.

"I wasn't sure."

He let her inside and closed the darn screeching door. Pressing a finger to his lips, he guided her along the dimly lit corridor and up the stairs. He was an adult man, owned the house where he lived, and paid the salaries of the people who worked in the house, yet he was sneaking into his room. Being a footman was easier.

He shut the door to his bedroom and lit the gas lamps. "Why are you here?" He couldn't remove the concern in his voice.

She pulled the hood down. "I wanted to apologise for what my mother said and the horrible way she treated you."

Oh, that. He'd hoped she'd come to tell him she wanted to marry him.

He shoved his hands in his pockets. "It's all right. She's your mother. I understand. You needn't come to apologise, although the sticky arrow idea was great."

She put down the bow. "I didn't come here only to apologise." She walked over to him, tugging at the strings fastening the cloak on the front. The fabric swished down her body to end on the floor. "I want…"

She must have had second thoughts about whatever she wanted to do because she stopped and gazed everywhere but at him.

"What do you want? A cup of tea? Are you hungry? I have the finest quality ham in the pantry. A nice slice with some mature cheddar is excellent. A cure-all."

She laughed, throwing her head back. "No, I'm not hungry. But it's something similar to hunger."

"I see. You want to indulge in something sweet. Pudding?"

She smiled. "I certainly want something sweet."

"I'm not good with riddles."

Her steps towards him were small and tentative. She seemed ready to bolt out of the room if he sneezed.

When she was close enough, he caressed her cheek. "What is it?"

She rolled her bottom lip between her teeth. "I'd like to be with you. In bed. Without clothes."

"What?" he raised his voice and regretted it.

"I'm too bold, am I not?" She stepped back. "I shouldn't have come. I'll leave immediately."

"Wait." He took her slender wrist and tugged gently. "It wasn't too bold. I was surprised. That's all."

She smiled, and the trust in her gaze almost broke him. "So we're going to get in bed together."

Oh, hell. "Let's start slowly."

Her happy expression faltered. "What do you mean?"

"It's like learning something new. You learn step by step without skipping ahead."

"All right." She tugged at her gown. "Shall I undress?"

"No." Damn. His tone rose again. "Let me do the undressing."

"If you don't want to be with me, you have only to say it." A quiver rang in her voice.

He closed his eyes for a moment. "Of course, I want you here. I want you more than anything. But see, I grew up in a bordello. I saw and did things not appropriate for a fine lady as you are. I have to learn as well."

"Learn what?"

"To be gentle. The women I've known so far were very well experienced without a shred of discomfort, and I knew what they wanted from me. With you, everything is different."

She drew her eyebrows together. "What do I have to do then?"

"Just be honest and tell me what you like and what you don't." He cupped her cheeks. She was so beautiful he wanted to weep.

"Fine. I'll be honest. Now what?"

So impatient. "What do you want me to do?"

"Kiss me." She tilted her head back.

He didn't need to be told twice.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her sweet mouth to his. Immediate desire shot to his groin. His thoughts became a jumble of incoherent voices.

He forgot to ask her again if she wanted to marry him. Later, later, later.

He deepened the kiss, exploring her mouth with slow lashes of his tongue. She wilted in his arms, running her hands over his chest.

Holding her by the waist, he lifted her and laid her on the edge of the bed. She breathed hard already, and he hadn't done anything yet.

"I like kissing you," she said, her lips glistening.

"I like kissing you, too." He unbuttoned her shirt. "Lie down."

He took his time uncovering her creamy skin although the corset and chemise didn't reveal much. The hooks on the corset were little buggers, hard to unfasten, but he won the battle with patience, kissing her now and then. He discarded her corset and shirt, leaving her chemise on. Her cheeks were a riot of colours.

"Embarrassed?" he asked.

"No, no. A little. May I keep the chemise?"

He took her chin and kissed her. "Your chemise will stay. For now."

The skirt and petticoats joined the shirt quickly. The boots needed to go as well. She lay on his bed in only her chemise, drawers, and stockings— the most beautiful vision he'd ever seen.

She moaned when he caressed her lovely legs, feeling her warm skin through the fabric of her stockings. He ran his hand up, following the curve of her waist to her breasts. Their dark tips were visible underneath the flimsy fabric of her chemise. A few strings tied it on the front, and he pulled at them slowly, watching her reaction.

Her eyes were glowing, and her chest rose and fell quickly. A shiver went through him when he lowered the straps and tugged the chemise down until her breasts were bared. Her drawers were next.

Bugger. He'd promised her the chemise would have stayed. His ability to focus was seriously compromised by her beauty. He went to pull the chemise up again, but she stopped him.

"No. I changed my mind. I like how you look at me," she whispered.

"How do I look at you?"

"As if I were beautiful."

He focused seriously now because he needed to be clear. "You are beautiful. I've never seen a more beautiful woman." He kissed her lips, cheeks, and neck, inhaling her flowery scent.

She laughed but fell silent when he rolled her nipple between his lips. Quick pants came out of her. He forced himself to be delicate. She arched her back and closed her fists in his hair as he tongued her breasts, pinching and sucking at her nipples.

"I like this," she whispered among breaths.

"Good." He kissed his way down, parting her legs to accommodate his bulk.

She propped herself up on her elbows, but plopped down again when he brushed her intimately.

"It's…" She gasped.

"I know." He ignored the aching stirring in his trousers or the wound in his arm throbbing. That moment was for her only.

He lapped at her, smiling when her hips lurched up. He drew circles with the tip of his tongue, tasting her sweetness. She said something unintelligible, and he paused, worried she might have asked him to stop.

"Do you like it?" He gazed up, lingering on the hardened and glistening tips of her breasts.

"Yes, yes." She nodded several times, so he guessed he could continue.

The incoherent words, moans, and lurches started again the moment he kissed her deeply. If she enjoyed it, he could go on all night. He added a finger just because he wanted to feel her velvet squeezing around him.

She writhed and trashed on the bed until she let out a piercing cry that, without a shadow of a doubt, Enright, Mrs. Lawrence, the maid, and the footman must have heard. But who cared? He would never ask her to be quiet. Quite the opposite. He wanted her wild and unrestrained.

He kissed her inner thighs and moved up her body, pausing to suck her nipples again.

She lay on the bed, her arms spread and her eyes shining.

"Did you like it?" He caressed her hair.

A strangled noise came out of her.

"What?" he asked.

She nodded.

He covered her with a quilt and gathered her in his arms. She sagged against him, likely exhausted. His own desire roared with desperation, but he was happy to hold her and give her the comfort she needed now. He rubbed her back.

"You're the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to me. I hope you will marry me, and not simply because it's practical, but because I can't think of anyone better than you to share my life with. No, sorry, that sounded terrible." He chuckled. "I mean, I really want you to be my wife." That was hardly better, but at least he'd been clear. He waited for her to say something, but she remained silent, her head on his chest. "Did I shock you?"

Not a word.

"Angeline?" He craned his neck to see her face.

Her eyes were closed, and her breathing came out softly. His angel had fallen asleep.