Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

"Good night, Gabriel." Joanna escorted the marquess through the Den's opulent red hall. She opened the front door, gripping it firmly when the blustery November wind threatened to slam it shut. "Thank you for your support and for abiding by my wishes."

"I had little choice in the matter," he grumbled.

Gabriel had listened to the evidence gathered thus far and agreed to help them find the culprit. He had left Fortune's Den three hours ago, returning with Lord Howard's diary, his recent letters and a pile of social invitations tied together with a tatty red bow.

They had examined the elegant cards from people who valued Lord Howard's company and wanted to pack their ballrooms with titled gentlemen. People who knew nothing of the monster hiding behind his affable facade.

"Why the devil didn't you confide in me?" Gabriel's voice held the agony of a man always scrambling in the dark. "I would have made Howard pay for what he did to you. He always was the odd man in our group, always boasting and seeking ways to feed his vanity. "

"His social calendar suggests he hid a licentious appetite."

While flicking through the lord's diary, they found he had visited Mrs Flavell's abode on many occasions. His last sojourn into the demimonde was as recent as two weeks ago.

"Men often display one personality while secretly harbouring another." Gabriel nodded at Mr Chance's study door. "You owe him nothing. Think of yourself, Joanna. Leave this place while you can still salvage something of your reputation."

She placed her hand on his arm. Gabriel was a handsome man, though she felt nothing but the warmth of friendship. "What reputation? My brother died mysteriously. My father?—"

"We don't know Justin is dead."

They had the same tiring conversation whenever they met. Gabriel could not accept what was obvious to most. "My father is a wastrel who left me alone to face his creditors. My brother's friend stole my virtue. In supporting myself and other women, I have earned people's disdain."

"There's only one way to silence the gossips. Become the next Marchioness of Rothley." Gabriel must have seen her eyes roll in frustration. "The offer is there should you come to your senses. As I have no desire to sire an heir, I would ask nothing of you."

His response carried the chill of the November air.

She would wait for a man who wanted everything. A man who yearned for her love and loyalty. A man who would die for one kiss.

"You know why I must refuse. One day, you might meet someone special and regret your benevolent gesture." Someone who might help him exorcise her brother's ghost before it drove him mad.

A cynical snort was his only reply.

"Good night, Gabriel. I will tell you what Mr Daventry says once we meet with him tomorrow. "

"Send word to me in Hanover Square." Gabriel drew his greatcoat across his chest and pulled his beaver hat down over his brow. Prepared to brave the cold, he stepped out onto the street. "I shall remain in town until this sorry business is over and you've regained your sanity." Then he disappeared into the night like the spectre haunting his dreams.

Joanna locked the door and drew the bolts, inhaling deeply before slipping into the study and closing the door gently behind her.

The fire had dwindled to amber embers, the smoke from the snuffed lamp a fading white trail in the dimness. The soft flicker of the solitary candle sent shadows dancing across Mr Chance's handsome features, but he didn't look at her as he placed Lord Howard's letters in his desk and moved to extinguish the last light.

"Is it not a little early for you to retire?" She glanced at the fire, wishing the distance between them would burn away just as easily. Was he desperate to avoid spending time alone in her company? "You often sit at your desk until the early hours." She didn't say she spied on him sometimes.

He seemed surprised she had noticed his daily habits. "We have a busy day tomorrow, and there's less paperwork now the gaming tables are empty."

"Will you manage while the club is closed?"

He'd agreed to fund her trip to France, but she didn't want to make assumptions.

Mr Chance snorted. "The club generates a third of my yearly income. I plan to reduce that to a quarter when I rent the apartments I'm having built north of Regent's Circus."

"You mean to strengthen your empire," she said, impressed.

"I mean to ensure my family's long-term future."

And what about your future ? she wanted to say while battling a host of strange sensations: a longing in her heart and a newfound ache in her loins, a swell of pride for him rising like a warm tide in her chest.

"You've given them everything they could want. Money keeps a man safe and dry from the elements. Love and friendship nourish the soul."

"I strive for a balance in all things," he said.

"That's not entirely true. You neglect yourself."

"I have everything I need and want."

Would he ever admit to wanting her?

Or had Eloise misheard, her confession just a silly mistake?

"And yet your tone lacks conviction."

He blew out the last candle, plunging them into darkness. Despite the abrupt end to their conversation, the palpable energy flowing between them did not need eyes or a voice.

The atmosphere shifted, unspoken desire humming in the air like a hypnotic melody. Did he feel the sudden crackle of electricity dancing over his skin? Did he struggle to think of anything but their bodies pressed together, swaying in time to the music? Had she imagined the soft brush of his fingers against hers as he moved past her to open the door?

"We shouldn't linger." He stood in the hall now, a stoic figure, a martyr to his cause. "It's cold tonight. I suspect you'll want to hurry upstairs and bury yourself beneath a mound of blankets."

"I might light a lamp and read for a while."

"I suggest you sleep." He waited for her to climb the stairs and followed behind. "We'll need our wits when Daventry tries to draw us deeper into his devious trap."

"His devious trap?"

"They say Daventry is the most cunning matchmaker in London." He caught up with her but kept his gaze trained ahead. "Be warned. He may try to take advantage of our current living situation."

She cast him a sidelong glance. "I'm sure he knows you vowed never to put a woman before your family. It's not like he has the power to make people fall in love."

"It won't stop him interfering in our affairs."

"I shall tell him I plan to marry Gabriel." She knew Mr Chance disliked her speaking about the marquess. "He is quite open about his desire to make me his wife."

"It's hardly a case of desire," he said bluntly. "Rothley made it sound like a business proposition. A marriage in name only. Besides, you told him you would marry me."

"Yes, I do apologise." Thankfully, he had not contradicted her in front of Gabriel. "It's all I could think to say. You know I would only ever marry for love."

They reached the dimly lit landing, the soft glow of a single wall sconce casting shadows on the dark wood wainscoting. She touched his upper arm and bid him good night.

Heavens, he was built like a gladiator of Rome.

Mr Chance inclined his head. "Good night."

"Did you order my breakfast for tomorrow?"

His half-smile stole her breath. "And inconvenience my staff? You enjoy causing mischief, and it's easier to let you."

"I'm a woman. I was born to turn your life upside down."

He did not peruse her female attributes as some men would and agree she was a fine example of her sex. "Finally, a point on which we both agree."

On that amusing note, they parted ways.

She walked a few steps and stopped. Mr Chance had lowered his guard tonight: the brief touch of their hands in the dark, the subtle smile that said he enjoyed their conversation. He would never be as vulnerable as he was in that moment.

"Mr Chance," she called, turning to face him.

"Yes?" He stepped away from his bedchamber door, dragging a hand through his raven-black hair. There was an undeniable magnetism about him, a raw masculinity she found irresistible .

"Would you answer a question before you retire?" She moved towards him when he made no reply, something other than excitement coiling low in her belly. "It's a simple one. I merely wish to understand your logic."

He waved for her to continue, though did not move an inch.

"I proved I am loyal to our cause tonight. I have been nothing but honest with you, and I know you will be honest with me."

"I never skirt around the truth."

She couldn't ask the question burning her tongue.

She couldn't betray Eloise's trust.

"Delphine's room is the coldest in the house. A logical man would care more about my physical comfort than my desire to sleep in a pretty place." Slowly, she closed the gap between them until she stood outside his bedchamber, too. "It would only make sense to put me far from the gaming tables if the club was still open."

He arched a brow. "I hear your observations, but not this simple question you're dying to ask."

Joanna raised her chin by way of a challenge. "What logical reason could you have for giving me the coldest room when the weather is bitter?"

The amused glint in his eyes said her argument impressed him. "Perhaps I want you to leave."

"Then you would tell me so in your usual blunt manner. You could have forced me to go with Gabriel tonight."

"Stop using his given name like you're more than friends." His sharp tone matched the flash of irritation.

"If we were more than friends, I would be at his home, not yours," she countered, letting him see she was equally vexed. "You're avoiding my question. I deserve an honest answer when I have trusted you with my greatest secret." Joanna had him cornered and refused to let him escape. "Are you afraid to tell me? Do you want me to suffer? Is it a way of punishing me for adding to your burdens?"

She saw panic in his eyes before his temper surfaced like a titan bursting from the sea. "You're the last person I would punish. Nothing scares me but breaking my vow. If a man shows weakness, his demons will devour him."

Beneath his anger, she could sense a civil war.

"What has your vow got to do with me staying in the coldest room in the house? Answer my question, and I shall leave you in peace."

He exhaled deeply, but his lips remained pursed.

"Fine," she said, about to turn on her heel. "Never question my friendship with Gabriel again. He doesn't keep secrets. He knows I would rather hear the truth than have him spare my feelings."

She moved to walk away, but Mr Chance clasped her wrist and drew her back to face him. "A man finds it harder to conjure amorous thoughts of a woman when she is sleeping in his sister's chamber. That's why you're in Delphine's room."

Euphoria flooded her veins, but she kept an intrigued expression. "And you don't want to have amorous thoughts about me? Is that it?"

"Our relationship must remain purely platonic."

Yet I'm deeply attracted to you , she said silently.

He was still holding her wrist, perhaps unaware his thumb moved in light circles. His eyes were softer now, the faint amber flecks making them appear nowhere near as dark and dangerous.

"Yet you touched me in the darkness." She had not imagined the feather-like stroke of his fingers over hers or the hitch in his breath. "The air is electric when we're alone like that. I know you feel it, too."

"I would need to be in the grave not to feel it." He sounded annoyed and solemn in equal measure. "It's not the first time I've experienced the unwelcome intrusion. Were we not embroiled in a murder investigation, I would insist you return home."

If Eloise had not disclosed his secret, she might have felt the sting of rejection. Indeed, she was keen to see how he would react if he thought his remarks had hurt her.

"I understand. You don't need anyone, and certainly not a woman like me. A failing club owner who brings nothing but problems to your door."

"It's not you," he snapped, pulling her a little closer, the smell of his cologne so good she could spend forever breathing him in. "I'm not made like other men. I cannot be gentle. A beast lives inside me. You've felt the mild whip of its tongue but never seen the sheer brutality of its actions."

She could contradict him and reveal his many fine qualities but decided to take a different approach.

"Have you thought we might not suit?" They would suit. She knew it like she knew her own name. "A quick experiment would put all your troubles to bed. If one tells themselves they cannot have walnut cake, it becomes the most appetising one on display. The painting that's not for sale becomes the greatest masterpiece."

"What are you saying?"

"You know what I'm saying, but you're afraid to test the waters."

They were alone, the soft candlelight creating a sensual ambience. If she couldn't get him to kiss her now, she never would.

"You have my permission to kiss me." Desire unfurled in her belly as the words left her lips. "What harm can it do? It will probably be a relief to get it over with, and then the masterpiece will seem like any other bland painting on the wall."

He did not argue with her reasoning.

"And I would like to move to a warmer room." She placed her hand on his chest and kept an impassive expression. She had never been this close to him before. He was breathtaking. "A quick peck should suffice. Should I close my eyes? This will be the first time I have ever been kissed. I pray it's mildly pleasant."

She felt like Eve tempting Adam to eat the apple. But the world would be a better place once Mr Chance lowered his defences.

"I'm not someone a lady chooses for her first kiss."

"Because you're rough and uncouth?"

"Because I'd devour you."

Why did that sound so appealing?

"Then I'm glad I'm not a lady."

"You won't like it when I lose control."

"When have you ever lost control?" She could imagine his inner devil tugging on his restraints, willing them to snap.

"I suspect I might with you," he uttered, the longing in his voice undeniable. He wanted to kiss her but refused to surrender.

The confession sent her pulse soaring. It felt like her happiness pivoted on this single moment. This one crucial decision could shift the balance either way. Dare she take a risk?

She moved her fingers slightly before gripping his waistcoat lapel. "Forgive me. I have always been too curious for my own good and lack your restraint."

Before he replied, she came up on her toes and pressed her mouth to his. His lips were warm and soft and utterly immovable. That didn't stop her from brushing hers slowly over his, relishing the feel of him, savouring the faint taste of cinnamon and brandy from their late-night dessert. It didn't stop the butterflies in her stomach or the giddy excitement urging her to continue.

But he released her wrist, forcing her to break contact.

"I should have known you'd play a winning hand."

"A lady must sneak past your defences. What a shame my first kiss was less than average. Perhaps it proves we don't suit."

"That wasn't a kiss. A kiss requires two willing participants. "

"Agreed." She released him, her formidable foe. "Good night, Mr Chance. Let's pray I'm not frozen to death in the morning."

He shocked her by saying, "Good night? Do you think I'd let you leave believing I'm less than average? You must experience the reason for my reticence. If only this once. Though you will make certain promises before we continue."

She swallowed hard. He was going to kiss her.

"Yes?"

"You won't mention it to anyone. We won't have this discussion again. Do you understand? You'll pretend it never happened."

"You have my word." A desperation to feel close to him would have her agreeing to anything.

"And you must tell me to stop if I'm too much for you."

Too much for her?

What did he intend to do?

She nodded. "I will."

That's when he looked at her, really looked at her. His dark eyes roamed over her figure, a wicked smile curling his lips as he gazed at her breasts. "I may touch you inappropriately. I'm counting on you to be the voice of reason."

Maybe she should tell him she'd left her common sense at The Burnished Jade, but he robbed her of rational thought when he reached into her hair and slowly pulled out the pins.

He spent moments running his fingers through her golden locks, admiring the softness before draping her loose hair over one shoulder.

"No woman has ever tempted me the way you do." With his guard gone, he looked tortured. Conflicted. "I'm almost afraid to kiss you."

He pressed his finger to her lips so she couldn't reply. Moving slowly, he traced the outline as if her mouth were a marvel of science .

"I pray the beast behaves," he whispered, capturing her chin.

And then he closed his eyes and kissed her lips, and she thought she might die from the pleasure.

He was kissing her, the woman who lived under his skin, the woman he'd worshipped from afar for so long. He didn't know how he had fallen into her trap or under her spell, but the moment their mouths met, he didn't give a damn.

Perhaps he did know.

He would be no one's disappointment. He would leave her in no doubt of his ability to arouse her or of the dangers she faced. And yet he was hard in his trousers, solid from one chaste kiss.

Don't lose control , he whispered to himself.

Breathe, damn you.

But lust licked his body, scorching him like the hottest flame. His heart pounded. His lungs ached for air. And yet the dominant feeling as he coaxed her to kiss him open-mouthed was one of pure joy. To kiss her once was a gift. A present he did not deserve. One he should unveil slowly, not tear at the wrapping and devour the contents.

Slow down.

Beneath the heat of her mouth, his problems became unimportant. The past faded away, leaving nothing but the sensation of her lips against his and a peace he had never known.

Peace and pleasure.

Two things he denied himself.

Two things that made a man weak.

It's just this once , he uttered silently, knowing he had to make every second count. He could not let his emotions overwhelm him. There was no room for sentiment when easing a physical ache.

But he'd missed the flaw in his plan.

It didn't matter that he kept his feelings for her chained to a dungeon wall, that there was no room for manoeuvre, that he'd spent months forging the strongest iron shackles and the sturdiest cell door.

Miss Lovelace had the key.

The temptress slipped her tentative tongue into his mouth, her passionate hum trembling against his lips, releasing the locks and setting the beast free.

A guttural growl escaped him.

She wanted this as much as he did. The thought hardened his cock, the throbbing ache unbearable as it strained against the placket of his trousers.

He wrapped his arms around her waist, his tongue mating rampantly with hers, desire tearing through his veins. She smelled of roses, sweet like summer air. An intoxicating scent that aroused him to near madness.

He felt her hands glide up his chest, exploring the firm contours of his muscles. Then she flung her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, the heat of her body pressed against his as they stumbled back against the wall like desperate lovers.

Aaron lost control.

The King of Clubs was relegated to a lowly knave.

Every sensual movement of her tongue fed his craving. He plunged deeper into her wet mouth, the primal urge to hike up skirts and drive home causing a heavy ache in his loins. Erotic visions bombarded his mind. His mouth hot on her womanhood, his fingers plunging in and out of her wet sex. Her panting while calling his name.

Take me, Aaron.

Cursed saints!

He tore his mouth from hers. "Tell me to stop," he cried, unable to subdue the hunger, aware of the discordant actions of his body and his rational mind. "For heaven's sake, demand it."

Even as the words left him, he was hiking up her skirts, his fingers grazing the soft skin of her thigh. If he edged higher, he could slip his fingers through her folds, make her come hard.

She looked at him through dreamy eyes as her mouth parted on a pant. "Don't stop. Not yet. You still need to show me the reason for your reticence."

"Isn't it obvious?" Both hands were up her skirts now. He gripped her bare buttocks, pressing the hard ridge of his erection against her abdomen, his arousal deepening. "I'm a heartbeat away from having you. I'll not stop until I've wrung the last whimper from your lips." He would make her come again and again just to feel the splendour of her hugging his cock. "You should leave. It's not safe for you here."

She swallowed hard. "You swore to protect me."

"I'm the one you should fear. I'll pay for you to stay at Mivart's hotel, pay for a companion and a handful of guards. If you stay here, it will end in disaster. You've been hurt before. I don't want to be the one who hurts you again."

"You can't hurt me if I'm a willing participant."

"You might want me now, but you'll regret it later. You deserve better."

It took all the strength he possessed to release her and step back. Sweet mercy. He wished he were a weaker man, that he wasn't consumed with the need to protect her. Who would have thought he'd be saving her from himself?

"Wait." She stepped away from the wall.

But he couldn't wait. If he hoped to dampen his ardour, he needed mental clarity. Indeed, there was only one way to knock sense into his addled brain.

"There's somewhere else I need to be."

"You can't leave. What about the curfew?"

He dragged his hand through his hair and tried to temper his lust. "I'm going to the basement. I have to fight next week. I can't afford to lose." He didn't stop to hear her reply but descended the stairs as if the house were ablaze.

There was but one way to satisfy the beast. He would punch the boxing bag until anger swallowed every conceivable emotion. Then he would retire to his study and sit alone, his heart bleeding in the darkness.