Chapter 25

twenty-five

S ITTING IN AN armchair in his drawing room, Royston stared at the door, waiting for Havisham to come.

Angeline paced, looking out of the window now and then. Mrs. Haywood instead kept knitting in front of the warm hearth as if she didn't have a care in the world. She wore a big ruby ring that caught the light of the flames, almost in a disturbing way. The flashing colour reminded him of the Theatre Royal.

"How can you be so calm?" Angeline asked her mother.

Mrs. Haywood lifted a shoulder. "We have a strategy. I'm sure everything will go as planned, and if it doesn't, we'll make another plan. That's how you survive."

Angeline's gaze shot towards the ceiling. "I hope you're right."

Enright entered the room. He cast an apprehensive glance at Mrs. Haywood. The woman must still have made him wary. "My lord, Lord Havisham."

"Thank you, Enright. Show him in." Royston stood up although his legs were still like rubber.

Angeline stopped pacing and faced the door. Mrs. Haywood rose as well, dropping her knit work on the armchair.

"What is the meaning of your summoning—" Havisham stopped in the middle of the room when he saw Mrs. Haywood.

A couple of scorching glances were exchanged between them.

"Havisham." Mrs. Haywood curtsied with a gesture that was anything but courteous.

Angeline curtsied as well, but her movement was brusque and short. "Lord Havisham."

"Wharton?" Havisham ignored the ladies. "Why am I here?"

"I'll get straight to the point," Royston said. "I know you persuaded Lord Redvers to withdraw his Parliamentary support for me. I also know that the list Mrs. Haywood was supposed to have doesn't exist, and that Mrs. Haywood has never abused fallen women for her purposes, although Mrs. Walsh said otherwise."

"What?" Mrs. Haywood's voice turned low and dangerous. "What did you say?"

Damn. He'd never mentioned to Mrs. Haywood that particular lie of Havisham.

"Lord Havisham said you abused young women for your blackmailing jobs," Angeline said. "That you had a list of fallen women you exploited."

"How dare you." Mrs. Haywood's nostrils flared. She was so enraged that her ruby ring seemed to flash more brightly. "I would never do such a thing."

"Mrs. Walsh," Royston said, "the woman, who manages the women's shelter I sponsor, claimed that a lady with your name and matching your description visited the shelter with the purpose of recruiting women."

"Utter poppycock." Mrs. Haywood pointed a finger at Havisham. "He must have sent a woman who looked like me to the shelter to use the information against you."

Havisham huffed as if bored although a light tremor in his hand belied his true feelings.

Royston continued. "I also know it was you who called the police that night I entered Miss Haywood's house."

Mrs. Haywood widened her eyes. Oops. Another thing she wasn't aware of.

Royston continued, "But I need to hear from you the reason you did all these things. There is no private detective. It was all a lie to convince me to steal those damning documents. Why?"

Havisham surveyed the room before answering. "Do you really think I want to see my former footman rise as my equal in the House of Lords? You were a good servant, and I admit you have a talent for business, but we're talking about a title, politics, and fortune. About being part of Parliament, about creating this nation's laws. These are responsibilities and privileges you have no right to receive. All your opinions about saving those fallen women. Oh, please. They're just harlots. The work we do in the House of Lords is above you and your little charities. Money is one thing. Blood nobility is quite another, and you'll never be one of us."

Royston forced himself to remain calm although Havisham's words hurt him deeply. "I see. Well, now that we're laying our cards on the table, I guess we can start a proper battle between us. I will fight for a seat. I will be in the House of Lords."

"You'll never have a seat in Parliament," Havisham said. "And I'm through with all of you. I don't want to be threatened or blackmailed ever again." He turned towards Mrs. Haywood. "Have I made myself clear? Or I swear I'll have you arrested."

Mrs. Haywood folded her hands in the small of her back in a neat, calm pose. "Very clear. No more blackmailing if you promise to leave Angeline alone."

"I don't care about your daughter," Havisham said.

"Mama." Angeline's cheek reddened.

"Then we have a deal." Mrs. Haywood stretched out her hand towards Havisham. "Angeline and I will be out of your life if you stay out of ours."

Havisham shook her hand. "Finally, you little, insufferable whore."

Royston strode towards him. "I can't tolerate such language towards Mrs. Haywood."

Mrs. Haywood smiled. A sweet, warm smile that caught him off guard. The resemblance to Angeline became striking.

"Thank you for being so gallant, my lord," she said. "Five, four, three…"

"You're welcome. Why are you counting?" Royston had barely time to ask before Havisham slumped into his arms.

"Two, one." Mrs. Haywood looked ten years younger. "Voila'."

"Goodness." Angeline clamped a hand over her mouth. "Mama?"

"He's heavy." Royston slumped the earl on the sofa and bent over him. "Havisham?" He shook his shoulder. When the earl didn't reply, Royston slapped his cheek. "Hullo? Angeline, send for the physician."

"Oh, don't worry. Stay here, Angeline." Mrs. Haywood waved him away. "I just drugged him."

"What?" Angeline and Royston said together.

Mrs. Haywood waved a hand, showing a needle coming out of the ruby of her ring. "Injection. This is my Lucrezia Borgia's ring. Did you know Lucrezia was the governor of a city called Spoleto? First woman to hold that position."

"Mama!" Angeline said.

Mrs. Haywood sighed. "I digress. An injection is more effective than a glass of wine. Do not fret. I can guarantee there won't be any… what was the word again? Right, adverse reactions. I've used this potion on Havisham a few times, and the version I gave him is a diluted one as a precaution. He's going to be perfectly fine."

Angeline put a hand on her heaving chest. "Mama, you must stop drugging people."

"I need to sit." Royston sat on the armchair, staring at Havisham's stunned face.

Wide eyes, mouth open, and eyebrows up to the hairline. The look would be comical if not for Royston's fear the earl might feel sick.

"I had no intention of drugging him. I swear it." Mrs. Haywood pouted. "I wanted a peaceful resolution to this mess that I, admittedly, started. But he tossed lies about me harming fallen women. I couldn't let the insult go. After this one time, I promise I'll retire from my blackmail activity."

Royston gazed from Mrs. Haywood to the half-unconscious earl and wasn't able to produce a single thought.

"I agree to receive that allowance, Wharton, or shall I call you Royston? Roy, perhaps. It sounds more charming to me. That means you and Angeline have my blessing. See, I was too proud to accept your financial help, but the recent events made me change my mind. Anyway. Let's get back to work."

He remained silent. Perhaps it was all a bad dream. "Mrs. Haywood…" He tried again.

"Later, Roy. I'm busy." She cleared her voice. "Now, since we're here and the damage has been done, we'd better take advantage of the situation. I need you two to be very quiet."

Royston's health had improved since his poisoning.

Mrs. Haywood's special healing tonic, made with herbs he couldn't pronounce, had been more effective than his physician's pills. He had to admit Mrs. Haywood possessed a ridiculously vast knowledge of medicinal herbs, which was commendable when applied to good deeds. The fact that she wasn't against his marriage with Angeline anymore also helped.

Last but not least, his new candidature in the House of Lords by none other than the Earl of Havisham and Lord Redvers was just the icing on the cake.

"Congratulations." Angeline kissed his cheek. "You're a member of the House of Lords."

"I still can't believe it." He read the official statement with the Parliamentary seal again. "Drugging Havisham isn't something I approve of, but your mother was right."

The poly potion hadn't had any adverse effects on Havisham. Quite the opposite. Mrs. Haywood had convinced him that championing Royston's seat was in his and his family's best interest and that he should enlist Lord Redvers to also champion Royston.

Havisham hadn't wasted time. He'd made a passionate speech to the other members of the House of Lords, and soon it was done. Royston was one of them.

"We cheated, though." He folded the letter, a bitter-sweet taste in his mouth.

"It was the earl and my mother who did the cheating."

"Yes, I suppose that's true. And the important thing is that I can fight to have the women's welfare bill approved."

Angeline reclined on the bed in his bedroom.

He lay next to her and slipped a hand under her skirts. "I'm fully recovered. I hold a seat in Parliament, and we're going to get married soon. I think this is the perfect time to be together."

"I'm afraid you'll have to wait a little longer." She jumped off the bed.

"What? No."

"Yes. Wait."

Royston scoffed when she locked herself in his private water closet.

A few long minutes later, she poked her head outside. "Close your eyes."

"Done." He did as she asked.

There was a swishing of fabric and other sounds.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"Yes. Keep your eyes closed."

"I will." How sad.

But then again, he ought to woo her again. He was aware that hadn't wooed her at all. Everything between them had happened without a proper courtship. He would change that.

"I have a surprise for you."

He frowned. "Is it an object?"

"Er… no. It's alive." More fabric swishing.

"I'd love a dog."

She chuckled. "You can open your eyes now."

"I was thinking— bloody hell!" He couldn't say anything else. He was shocked.

She wore only a flimsy nightgown that softly caressed her curves. Her dark-pink nipples puckered under the fabric, and her glorious hair was loose, falling in glossy curls to her waist.

"Is this like your hallucination?" she asked.

He licked his dry lips. "It's better." He didn't even realise he'd jumped off the bed. "The nightgown looks fantastic. You look fantastic."

He stretched out a hand to touch her, but she stepped back.

"Not yet."

"Angeline," he growled. "Please."

She shook her head. "Lie on the bed."

Scoffing and puffing, he did as told. Or tried to. He walked towards the bed while looking at her, and he didn't see the ottoman. He tripped and plopped down unceremoniously on the bed.

"Goodness, Royston." She rushed to him, which was the most spectacular view he'd ever been lucky enough to see.

As she ran, the diaphanous fabric clung to her body, and her hair floated around, making her look like a forest nymph.

"Are you all right?" She put a hand on his chest.

"Yes… I mean, ouch."

"Where are you hurt?"

He pointed at his lips. "A kiss to make it better?"

She smiled. "You scoundrel."

The moment she leant closer to kiss him, he captured her nape and pressed his mouth against hers. Finally.

As he devoured her mouth, all his need for her burst out. He couldn't keep his hands to himself and stroked her. The fabric created a delicious, silky friction. Her warmth reached his eager palms through the fabric. He rolled her nipples until she moaned and pinched them hard to hear her moaning louder.

He drew one into his mouth with the fabric and all, smiling as it hardened and lengthened further.

"Royston." She reclined her head and fell back on the bed.

He took advantage of that by stretching on top of her. The delicate straps of her nightgown didn't oppose any resistance when he slid them off her shoulders. He gently pulled down the fabric to reveal her lovely breasts.

As he tongued her again, this time without barriers, he slid a hand between her thighs to find her wet and ready.

Her response was immediate. She spread her legs wide. He rubbed her but lifted his head from her breast to stare at her. She was a glorious sight, all flushed, lips glistening, and eyes half-closed. Her scream was as loud as ever when she found her release.

"Please." She urged him on.

Despite his raging desire, he went slowly because he wanted to savour every moment with her. This time he didn't rush. He inched inside her, watching her reactions. He paused to kiss her and brush a curl from her face. He took his time.

When they found their release together, it wasn't simply a temporary pleasure. It was a soul-binding moment, a solemn oath shared between them.