Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Aaron followed Joanna into the darkness, convincing himself that whatever happened here would have no bearing on the case or their friendship. He rarely lied to anyone, least of all to himself, but if he didn't sate this need to touch her, he'd be a candidate for Bedlam.

"Hurry," she whispered, excitement lacing through her voice as she drew him further into the gloom. "How far should we go?"

Her hand was soft and warm in his, the charge of attraction an electric pulse beating between their palms. Her eagerness kept his cock hard, a solid strain against his trousers. She enjoyed this game as much as he did. When were they ever this carefree? When had they ever indulged their desires or acted on a whim?

Never.

"Just a little further," he said. The maze was small but he would hear the gravel crunch if someone entered. "Walk to the end of the avenue and turn left."

The dense evergreen walls loomed on either side, their shadows swallowing any light from the house. The thrill of anticipation hung in the air, along with the sweet, earthy scent of boxwood. It was the perfect place for a secret liaison, a place where nothing mattered but the woman he adored.

"Shall we stop here?" She came to a halt, facing him, her hands moving to his chest like she was desperate to touch him, too. "We're still wearing our masks. Should we pretend we're strangers? Would you like me to play the good girl, sir?"

Aaron pressed her against the hedge, cradling her throat gently, tracing her lips with his thumb. "I like the strong woman, not the good girl. I like it when you make demands on me. I like the fire burning in your eyes and the sting of your sharp tongue."

She sighed softly. "It sounds like you want us to be ourselves."

"Us as we might have been had life treated us fairly."

She caressed his chest. "Sneaking into hidden places to steal forbidden kisses? Where nothing else matters but pleasing each other?"

She painted an idyllic picture. A glimpse of heaven on earth.

"Yes." A life where she would be his priority.

"It sounds divine."

He could not afford to dwell on the thought. He had to meet with his brothers tomorrow and inform them of the threats. They were grown men who deserved to know the truth. Their safety would be his focus then.

"Did you mean what you said, Joanna? Do you want me to devour your mouth? Do you want to feel my tongue sliding over yours, my hands on your body? Or was it all an act to please the crowd?"

"I want all of those things," she uttered, her breath a mist of white in the cool night air. "The crowd merely allowed me to say what I've wanted to say all day."

His gaze moved to her bare shoulders. "Are you cold?"

"A little, but I have a plan to keep warm."

She responded by wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him in the darkness. Her lips were soft and pliant and his . She would always be his. Touching her would always feel like he had found his way home.

He deepened the kiss, drinking from her like he was dying of thirst. The desire to touch her intimately, to be the first man to make her climax—the only damn man—throbbed in his fingers, his lust a potent beat in his blood.

He tore his mouth from hers with a gasp. "I'm going to take liberties but don't want to frighten you."

She pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. "You could never frighten me."

"You're one of the few people in London who can say that."

"No one knows you like I do."

"You only know one part of me." He dreaded to think what she would do when she saw the savage in him, pounding men with his fists, reclaiming debts, knowing the innocent would suffer. "I've done things you would find abhorrent. I'm ruthless in business. I take no prisoners."

"You're a loving family man."

"I'd tear anyone apart who tried to hurt them."

"And yet I find your strength arousing, not terrifying."

"Why?" he demanded.

"I cannot define what exists between us. All I know is it's mutual and so powerful I'm not thinking about finding Venus, only anticipating the moment your lips take mine."

That moment came less than a second later.

Their mouths collided in a kiss to rock the heavens. The sudden urgency to ease a physical ache had them grasping each other, their roving hands mimicking the frantic movements of their lips.

He was drowning in the smell and taste of her. He was lost as he drank her in, her essence filling his body like she belonged there. Yet it wasn't enough.

"Tell me you want more," he growled, moving to rain kisses down her slender neck and bare shoulder. He meant to brand her, leave his mark on every inch of her porcelain skin.

She tilted her head. "When it comes to you, I'm insatiable."

"Do you touch yourself, Joanna?"

She hesitated.

"Tell me," he whispered. "You can tell me anything."

"Sometimes."

"Have you touched yourself and thought of me?" He tugged at the shoulders of her gown, grateful for the style of corset because it took no effort to free her breasts.

Good God! She was magnificent.

A temptress touched by slivers of moonlight.

She sucked in a breath as the chill air hardened her rosy nipples.

"Have you?" he repeated, kissing her neck and palming her plump breast, grazing his thumb back and forth over the pretty pink peak.

"Yes," she said with a throaty moan, her head falling back. "You're all I think about lately. I can't get you out of my mind."

"When did you last touch yourself?" He moved to worship the hard bud, flicking it with his tongue, sucking it into his mouth. "When, Joanna?"

She pushed her hands into his hair, urging him to lavish her other breast. "Last night … and …"

"And?"

"Tonight, when I bathed."

"I came to the thought of you so many times today that I've chaffed my damn skin." He reached under her skirts, the rustling of silk preceding his guttural groan as he slipped his fingers over her sex and found her wet.

Merciful Lord.

He could be inside her in seconds, pushing into her wetness, driving deep. But she would be his then. The most important person in his life. This … this beautiful moment was a test of his re solve. Never had he been so close to abandoning his family and forgetting every vow he'd ever made.

He looked at her, searing the glorious sight into his memory. "Do you want me to ease the ache, Joanna?" His fingers massaged the centre of her sex. "Will we share such an intimacy and pretend it never happened?"

"Yes," she panted, her lashes fluttering against her cheeks as she closed her eyes against the waves of pleasure. "It doesn't have to mean anything."

"It's nothing more than two people enjoying the evening."

It was the greatest lie he had ever told.

It meant everything. There would not be a day in his life when he wouldn't imagine himself right here, loving her the only way he could.

"You're certain?"

"Yes. Don't stop touching me."

Nothing prepared him for the moment she came. The minx grabbed his coat, writhed against his hand, and insisted on pressing her open lips to his though didn't kiss him. Her taut nipples brushed his waistcoat as she moaned against his mouth.

When she came apart, he felt every shudder.

As the ripples subsided, she held on to him like he was a pillar of support, not someone who might one day break her heart.

"You were right," she said, pressing her forehead to his as her lungs fought for air. "You're the most dangerous man I have ever met."

"It's not me," he said, dragging her sleeves up and covering her breasts. "It's your passionate nature that makes this a dangerous pairing."

It's the way I feel about you that makes this unique.

Now it was over.

And it would be unwise to share such intimacies again.

"If only things were different." She cupped his cheek like this was goodbye. "I wish you were free and life was less complicated."

"After all my family has been through, I could never wish for that."

"No, you've all survived a great injustice."

Not having her was the greatest injustice of his life.

Perhaps when the Earl of Berridge was dead, things would be different. Yet he couldn't shake the fear of impending doom. A storm was coming. He could sense it gaining momentum, gathering force and growing stronger each day.

"We should return to the house and assist Daventry." It was still early by the demimonde's standards, and the thought of being cajoled into sharing more intimate moments with her would test Aaron's sanity.

"It would be impolite not to greet our hostess." She patted her elegant coiffure and brushed the creases from her gown. "When we see Mr Daventry, we'll need to explain where we've been."

"If he asks, we've been looking for Venus."

"Yes." She seemed forlorn, like she'd heard a sad tale, not come apart beneath the stars, her beauty bared to the heavens.

"Is something wrong?"

"No. Nothing." Her half smile said she was lying.

In truth, he felt deflated, too. He'd lived his greatest fantasy but had woken from the dream. They should be racing home to make love until dawn, not allowing a strained distance to open up between them.

"Neither of us is good at pretending each kiss doesn't matter," he said.

Woeful blue eyes searched his face as if he were off to war and she might not see him again. Did she feel like she had lost the man she'd kissed mere moments ago? Could she sense him slipping away with each passing second?

"I'm a wallflower, remember," she said, her forced laugh a bid to lighten the mood. "I know life doesn't always work out as one planned."

"You're not a wallflower."

"Why? Because I'm old enough to be a spinster?"

He had to touch her, though his fingers lingered at her elbow a little too long. "No. Because you steal my attention every time you enter a room."

Her eyes glistened beneath the moonlight's embrace, her deep sigh almost mournful. She hugged her abdomen like it pained her. "Can we spend the rest of the evening just being colleagues? My emotions are somewhat fragile. Too fragile to cope with another kiss or compliment."

"Hurting you is the last thing I want." Aaron ignored the crushing pain in his chest. Whatever happened, they could not indulge their desires again. "It was easier for both of us when we kept our distance."

"I wouldn't change anything that's happened between us. Every perfect moment will live with me always." She averted her gaze, shutting him out. "But I cannot kiss you again, Mr Chance. Not even when we pretend to be other people. Please do your utmost to respect my wishes."

He stepped back and bowed, his throat so tight it was hard to speak. "I'll do anything you ask. You're the only woman I have ever wanted. The only woman I respect. We must be strong for each other."

She nodded. "We'll play at being enquiry agents and throw ourselves into our work. In the throes of passion, we've forgotten our lives are at stake."

He wanted to tell her she was beautiful inside and out. To admit he felt something other than lust. That his heart wasn't dead because it hurt like the devil now. He had lost many things—his mother, his home, pieces of himself stolen with every childhood beating. Joanna was the greatest loss of his life.

"I still need a friend, Joanna. "

She dabbed her eyes. "We're the best of friends, Mr Chance. Nothing will ever change that." She slipped her arm through his and hugged him so tightly he could cry. "Now, come. Let us hunt for the elusive Venus. I can't help but feel she lured us here tonight."

They left the maze and began searching the garden.

Wherever they went, they met couples locked in passionate clinches, their aroused cries a testament to their freedom. The tangle of four bodies writhing on the orangery floor turned Aaron's stomach. He would treasure Joanna always, not share her with other men.

"Didn't Mr Parker say Venus approached him in the garden?"

Aaron glanced around the autumn landscape. The only people outside were those engaged in amorous activities. "Yes, though I wonder what Parker was doing out here alone."

"Perhaps she slipped him a note and lured him outside."

Aaron considered the point, which took longer than usual because Joanna dominated his thoughts. "Or Venus wasn't invited to the party and she sneaked in via the mews. This is the only house on the row with access from the garden."

He paused, registering a presence behind them.

"Experiencing the pleasures of the outdoors, Mr Chance?" came a woman's sultry voice. "I hear you have been causing quite a stir."

Damnation! How the blazes had she recognised him?

He turned to find Mrs Flavell, their flamboyant hostess. The forty-year-old wore a red silk robe à la fran?aise with an oriental pattern. Her powdered white wig was large enough to hide a small aviary.

"I could make a fortune auctioning you to the highest bidder," the widow continued. Her wicked grin spoke of mischief, though she'd forgone a mask. "Most ladies in London would give an organ to spend the night with the formidable Aaron Chance. "

Mrs Flavell's gaze shifted to Joanna. "You must share your secret, my darling. How the devil did you lure him into the maze?"

Joanna smiled. "One must appeal to the man behind the scandalous reputation. It's not an easy task. More akin to laying siege to a Norseman's fortress with a blind beggar and a lame donkey."

Mrs Flavell laughed like her sides hurt. "Oh, how utterly amusing you are, my dear. Perhaps you might return without your chaperone. With your wit and beauty, the world could be yours." She glanced at the house. "They're already squabbling over you. You could take your pick tonight."

Aaron's anger snapped as easily as thawing ice on a raging river. "The first man to touch her loses his hand. You'll tell them she's mine."

"My friend is somewhat protective," Joanna said.

"Your friend?" Mrs Flavell narrowed her gaze. "I've seen men fornicate like beasts to appease their physical cravings. I rarely see one kiss a woman like she owns a piece of his soul."

Aaron shifted uncomfortably. "What do you want?"

"Changing the subject so quickly. I think that proves my point." The lady produced a letter she had tucked inside her bodice. "This came for you ten minutes ago. I would have brought it outside, but I didn't want to spoil your little adventure into the verdure."

Aaron snatched the letter, noted his name scrawled in elegant script, then broke the seal and read the missive.

I shall bring your house down brick

by brick until you're the only one

standing in the rubble.

Hellfire!

Alarm shot through him, his heart hammering in his chest as every muscle tensed. Either his nemesis followed him to Belgravia, or Mrs Flavell's mouth was as loose as her silk drawers.

"Did Daventry say I would be here tonight?"

"No. Mr Daventry refused to disclose your identity, even when I mentioned asking you to play master with a small group of ladies upstairs." Mrs Flavell feigned concern. "I trust all is well."

Aaron firmed his jaw. "Don't toy with me. I own most of your patrons' vowels. One threat and I could empty your house. Who delivered the note?"

Mrs Flavell seemed to find it all so amusing. "A penny boy. I doubt you'll catch him. The sprightly little thing took off down the street, a gangle of arms and legs."

Aaron thought to wipe the smirk off her face. "Someone is out to hurt my family. I don't need to tell you what I'll do when I find the culprit. Our enquiries led us here. Don't force my hand. Believe me, you'd rather be my ally than my enemy."

The widow shrugged. "I don't know what to tell you."

Joanna spoke, her sweet voice bringing an element of calm. "We need the names of the women Thomas Parker enjoyed at your parties."

"I made an oath to protect my patrons' anonymity. Besides, the list would fill more pages than Walter Scott's Waverley . I'm not exaggerating when I say Mr Parker leaves no stone unturned. His brother, Sir Geoffrey, asked that I withdraw his membership."

Perhaps Sir Geoffrey hoped his brother would find a willing bride.

And the mention of membership roused an interesting point.

"Are all guests members?" Aaron said.

"Of course. I'll not allow any riffraff in. Frivolity can be expensive. The fee is five hundred pounds per annum. Paid in advance. "

"Then Lord Howard and Mr Parker are members."

Mrs Flavell gave a covert nod. "I would have to check my ledger. If you and your friend join the private party later, I'll grant you access to the records."

Aaron would rather carve the words Berridge's Flunkey on his forehead than watch other men seduce Joanna.

"Both men entertained the same woman," he began, hoping the widow might answer one last question before he refused her offer. "She's foreign, pretty, with ebony hair and came dressed as Venus. Is she a member?"

Mrs Flavell's mouth curled into a coy grin. "Please my ladies tonight, and I'll tell you what you want to know."

Women like Mrs Flavell always wanted payment for their favour.

"If you watched me kiss my friend , you know why I must refuse. I'll never kiss another woman as long as I live." He arched a challenging brow. "There. You've heard the private thoughts of a man who always keeps them hidden. Surely that's worth a simple answer to a simple question."

But Mrs Flavell did not let it rest there. "Have you given her assurances for the future?"

Aaron glanced at Joanna. "No. Present problems force me to focus on the vow I made to my family. Someone threatens to destroy what I've built. I cannot fail those who need me most."

"Sometimes a man must be selfish," she said, sneering.

"My father had that attitude, and I despised him."

Mrs Flavell's gaze turned reflective. "Life often presents painful choices. We rarely know we've chosen incorrectly until it's too late." She sighed like the conversation bored her. "The woman you mentioned is an interloper. She crept in with a party of people, and I presumed she was their guest. She left with Lord Howard. He paid for her membership the following week. While Howard smoked in the den, she went outside and spent an hour with Parker. The name she gave is false. No one has ever heard of her."

Despite the wealth of information, they were still clueless.

"Have you seen her since?"

"Yes, tonight, while you were in the maze but she disappeared. How the devil she got into the house is anyone's guess. She didn't enter through the front door, and the gate to the mews is locked. I believe Mr Daventry is conducting a thorough search of the house."

Aaron turned and scanned the shady depths of the garden. "Do we have your permission to inspect the mews and coach house?"

The woman gave a nonchalant wave. "Be my guest. All I ask is that you never return here again. You've worked my guests up into a lustful frenzy. I'll have a devil of a job pleasing them all tonight."

"I mean to avoid this place like the plague."

"Good." Mrs Flavell flounced away but came to an abrupt halt and paced back so quickly her wig wobbled. "Tell Daventry he's wrong about the Mughal dagger. My husband didn't purchase it at the auctioneers but won it in a bet twenty years ago. It went missing recently. The night Howard and Parker argued over Venus."

Aaron's heart skipped a beat. The evidence gave Parker a motive for murder and proved Parker or Venus might have stolen the weapon. He was about to demand Mrs Flavell give a statement, but her gaze moved past them, her eyes bulging from their sockets.

"Be gad! That woman has got the devil's cheek." She pointed to the raven-haired beauty strolling at the bottom of the garden, her mask firmly in place, her white gown billowing in the breeze like a ghostly shroud.

Joanna gasped. "It's Venus."

Venus hadn't noticed them as she hugged the darkness and disappeared behind the trunk of an oak tree. Was she meeting someone? Had she arranged an assignation? If Parker appeared, surely Daventry could arrest him.

Mrs Flavell was ready to march to the bottom of the garden, but Aaron urged her to wait. "We need to speak to Venus, not frighten her away."

"It looks like she's in a trance," Joanna said when Venus reappeared and ambled aimlessly towards the maze. "Like she's lost her way."

Or flying high after a visit to the opium den, Aaron thought.

They moved towards the maze, trying to keep to the shadows. Venus gazed up at the house but peered right through them. Even when they came to a halt before her, she merely inclined her head and tried to move past them.

Mrs Flavell grabbed Venus' wrist, startling the young woman. "What sort of game are you playing, gal? Who are you? Take off that mask. I'll not stand for your flagrant disrespect for the rules."

Venus panicked and said in a soft Italian accent, "Forgive me. I meant no disrespect, but I know nothing of your rules. I am new here."

"New?" Mrs Flavell cried. "And I live under a toadstool."

As always, Joanna brought calm to a tense situation. "There's nothing to fear. We simply ask that you remove your mask and explain why you're wandering around the garden."

Aaron studied the timid woman. He'd expected an impudent creature, overtly sexual in manner. A woman who could persuade a man to choose the watch he didn't want and force another to play the cruel tormentor.

"Remove your mask, Lucia," he said, raising his to reveal his face.

"M-Mr Chance?" With shaky hands, the maid did as she was told. Her doe eyes stared with childlike innocence. "What are you doing here? "

"We're looking for a pretty young foreign woman dressed as Venus," Joanna snapped, tearing her mask off, too. "Someone who bears an uncanny resemblance to you. And to think I vouched for you. Does Miss Stowe know of your secret identity?"

Tears filled Lucia's eyes. "Please, you mustn't tell her."

Despite Aaron's earlier misgivings, instinct said Lucia wasn't Venus. "Tell us why you're here, or we must place you under arrest."

"While you're at it, charge her with theft and trespassing," Mrs Flavell blurted. "I want my husband's dagger back, gal. No one steals from me."

Lucia looked to be drowning in a sea of confusion.

"Why are you here?" Joanna pressed.

"I—I was paid to come and walk in the garden."

"Paid?" Mrs Flavell said. "By whom?"

Lucia's tiny shoulders rose and fell. "I do not know. A letter came. The sender offered to pay me a hundred pounds if I wore this costume and made sure I was seen in the garden. The person arranged for a hackney cab to collect me from the bottom of the street. The driver paid me and brought me here." She gestured to the mews beyond the garden gate.

Aaron wasn't sure why, but the far-fetched story rang true.

"Is he coming back for you?" Aaron said, hoping to throttle the truth from the jarvey.

"No. I must make my own way home. I can leave at the stroke of midnight. I only pray Miss Stowe does not notice I am missing."

Mrs Flavell's eyes shone with suspicion. "Liar! I locked the gate and took the key. How did you get in?"

Lucia opened her clasped hand to reveal an iron key. "The driver gave it to me when he brought me to the mews."

"This is all very convenient." Mrs Flavell grabbed Lucia's arm. "I want to question you myself. I want to know what else you've stolen from me."

"But I have never been here before tonight."

Daventry suddenly appeared and made his own demands. "As she's a suspect in a criminal case, she's coming with me." He faced Mrs Flavell. "Don't argue, or I might be forced to mention your illegal shipment of raw opium to the Home Secretary."

Mrs Flavell paled, the fight leaving her in an instant. "Then get her out of here. If she is Venus, I want my husband's dagger and anything else she stole."

Aaron turned to Daventry. "Mr Flavell won the dagger in a bet."

"From whom?"

Mrs Flavell shocked everyone when she pointed at Aaron. "From his rotten father. That dagger belonged to Ignatius Chance."