Kitabı oku: «Regency Society», sayfa 37

Chapter Fourteen

Constance stretched under the sheet and enjoyed the feel of the linen on her bare body. She felt a frisson of desire and the memories came flooding back. In spite of herself, she smiled.

He had told her not to worry, and then he’d taken off her clothes, and pleasured her until she could bear it no more.

And then he’d put her to bed and taken his leave. She’d dreamed all night of him, lying next to her on the pillow, and it was sweet disappointment to wake and find that he wasn’t there.

There was a quiet knock on the door.

It was still locked, and her maid could not get in. She wrapped the sheet around herself, then hurried to the door in bare feet and turned the key in the lock, grabbed the clothing from off the floor and tossed it over the nearest chair, trying to give the illusion that she had found her own way to bed.

Susan came in smiling, and doing her best to pretend that there was nothing unusual about her mistress’s behaviour. There was an envelope, set beside the morning’s hot chocolate.

Constance looked to her enquiringly.

‘It was delivered this morning, your Grace, with the first post.’

She glanced down at the seal. An S, unfamiliar in its design. She slit the wax and unfolded the note. Her deed and inventory slid on to the tray.

So soon?

Obviously. She felt the last of the tension leaving her body. A short note slid from the envelope as well, and she laid it against her heart before reading.

I am safe as houses, as are you. If you would welcome a visit from one who will always be your humble servant, so that you might have return of your house key, send your maid to bed early and leave your window unlocked.

There was no signature.

She sank back into the pillows, and closed her eyes, holding the note to her lips. He had the key to her front door, and yet he asked her permission to enter. If she had not loved him before now, she would have been unable to resist him, just for that fact. And he still wished to use the window. Which was both discreet, and arousing. And he was coming to her tonight.

Susan gave a quiet cough to remind Constance of her continued presence.

She smiled up at the maid.

Susan smiled back. ‘Have you decided to listen to your heart after all, your Grace?’

‘It beats so loudly when I think of him that I have been unable to do otherwise.’ She allowed the maid to help her into her morning dress. ‘I think, Susan, that there is no hope for me. It is not wise of me to want Mr Smythe. It would be much better could I bring myself to feel this towards Lord Endsted. But my mind will not obey reason. When I think of Tony, the sun shines brighter, the air smells sweeter, and I feel as if I could fly, rather than walk.’

Susan nodded. ‘You are in love.’

Constance looked back at her, sadly. ‘I never meant to be. I never have been, before. And I am not sure, when it ends, that I will like it very much.’

‘It will be worth it,’ Susan assured her. ‘For you will always remember this morning.’

That night, supper was barely cold when she called for Susan to ready her for bed. It was foolish of her, she supposed, for it was far too early to expect a visit. But he had given no indication of the time he would come. And when he did arrive, she did not wish to waste a moment of his company in preparation. Susan had laid out her best night rail, and she allowed it to be put on, only to toss the thing aside as soon as her maid had left the room. Then she crawled naked between the sheets.

It was almost midnight when, at last, he climbed in the window, silhouetted in the light from the street. She leaned on her elbow and watched him, admiring his movements. How strange that he should be able to climb in and out as easily as going through the front door. And how accustomed she’d become to his habits.

‘Good evening.’ She could see his grin in the darkness, when he saw her already in bed. ‘I hope I am not disturbing you.’

‘Not at all.’ She stretched and let the sheet slip down her body so that he could see she was bare beneath the linen.

He caught his breath at the sight. ‘Not disturbed? Give me fifteen minutes and you shall be.’ He slipped off his coat and tossed it over a chair. ‘You received the deed?’

‘Yes. Thank you.’

He undid his cravat and tossed it and his shirt after the coat. ‘Did you send your maid away this evening so that we might not be interrupted?’

‘Yes,’ she breathed. He was slim, unlike her husband. His belly was flat and his shoulders broad and she could watch the muscles move under the skin as he undressed.

He sat on the end of the bed and pried off his boots. ‘I hope that she is on the other side of the house.’ He looked over his shoulder at her. ‘You were quite vocal last night. It is most gratifying to get such an enthusiastic response.’

She blushed. ‘It was very…I don’t think I…Thank you.’

He turned to look at her with a fond smile. ‘You’re very welcome.’ He sighed and shook his head in amazement. ‘And very, very beautiful. Especially as you are now, naked in bed, and waiting for me.’ He stood and unfastened his breeches and let them drop to the floor. He was large, and already growing hard. But then, his whole body was well muscled and firm, and she longed to touch every inch of it. He stretched out on the bed beside her, with only the sheet separating their bodies.

He took her in his arms and cradled her against his body, and she felt the hair of his chest rubbing against her breasts and bringing every nerve alive in her.

In response, she kissed him.

There was nothing gentle in his answer as he kissed her back. There was the same intensity that she felt whenever he looked at her, as though he wanted to steal her away and keep her all to himself. His hands were on her back, stroking her and gripping her shoulders and her waist and anything he could reach.

She pushed the sheet down and out of the way so that she could feel even more of him.

And he pulled it back up to her waist, keeping them apart, but gripping her bottom and her legs so that she could feel how hard he was, even through the fabric.

She wrapped her legs around him, tangling in the sheet and rocking, letting the linen rub against them, as he reached to play with her breasts, cupping them with his hands, stroking and pulling at the nipples. And then he caught one of her hands, bringing it to his mouth to suck on the fingers and kiss the knuckles and the palm. At last, he whispered, ‘If you would be so kind.’ Then he led it down his body, over his chest and stomach, until it rested between his legs under the sheet.

She understood what he wanted, for she had often had to help her husband, before he was able to perform. But Anthony was not in obvious need of help. He was long and hard and ready, and he sucked in his breath when her hand touched him, and gritted his teeth in a smile.

She stroked him, running her hand along the smooth flesh and tightening around it, and he trembled next to her. She kissed his lips and bit his throat, and worked her way down his chest to explore his nipples with her tongue, tasting salt and feeling his gasps as her grasp grew stronger and longer and faster. She ran her other hand over his body, feeling the muscles tighten and his back arch as he grew near to climax and her own body grew wet and heavy, and eager to know his first thrust inside of her.

And when she knew it could not be much longer, she reached to pull the sheet out of the way so that they could join. But he held fast to it.

Did he mean to come without her, as she had without him the night before? She had thought, the way he looked at her, that he had wanted more from her than this. Was it the woman he said he loved that kept him from completing the act with her? Her stroke faltered.

‘Tony?’

‘Just a moment, darling.’ His words came between groans. ‘Just a little while longer.’

‘I must ask—’

‘After, please. Anything.’

‘But I need to know—’

‘Constance, I am dying,’ he begged. ‘Finish what you have started.’

She stilled her hand, holding him in a loose grip, and said, ‘Is there some reason that you cannot crawl beneath the sheet and finish yourself?’

He said through gritted teeth, ‘I thought that would be obvious. I do not want to get you with child.’

She yanked her hand from his body and rolled away, turning her back to him and wrapping herself in the bed linens. ‘Get out.’

He laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, and his voice was unsteady. ‘I am sorry to be so selfish. You have needs as well and I should think of my lady before myself. But I have been able to think of nothing but your hand on me for the whole day…’

She shivered in the bed and wrapped the sheet even tighter around herself. ‘I can see to my own needs from now on.’

‘Constance,’ he whispered. ‘What is the matter?’

When she tried to speak, it felt as though her throat were full of tears. ‘You know what is the matter. How could you say that? I trusted you. And how could you hurt me so? To use such an excuse to avoid making love, when you must know as well as the rest of the world that I have been barren for thirty years. Producing a child will not be at issue. If you have a distaste for me, or for the act, or if there is another woman, can you at least tell me the truth? Do you think me a fool?’

‘Constance.’ He pulled her to him, so that she could feel him, still hard, and pressing against her from behind. Then he rested his head against her shoulder, so that he might speak in her ear. ‘I do not think you foolish. But I think that you have been told for so long that there is a deficiency in you that you believe it yourself. Now, answer me honestly. Have you ever lain with a man, other than your husband?’

‘No, of course not. How could you say such a thing?’

‘How old was he when you married?’

‘He was almost two score.’

‘And you were just out of the schoolroom, were you not?’

‘Well, yes.’

‘And did he have mistresses?’

She never liked to think of such things. But there had been the scent of strange perfume, and the occasional trace of rouge on his cravat, although she wore none.

‘Constance?’

‘Yes. There were other women.’

‘But no rumours of bastards?’

‘No.’ The thoughts that she had never dared think, when Robert was alive, mingled with the doubts.

‘Did you ever have to dismiss a chambermaid for getting herself in trouble? And I do not mean for carelessness with the silver.’

‘No.’

‘So your husband had no children when he married you, and in the last fifteen years he lay with several women, without issue. While you were only with him.’ He placed a hand negligently on her hip. ‘I told you before, Constance, I am not prone to gambling. But I’ll wager, if we are careless and lower this sheet, you are liable to find that the problem was not yours, much to your regret.’

Regret? He must be mad. Awareness flooded her. Tony was young and strong and hard. Virile. And he wanted her, as much as she wanted him. If there was a chance, even the slightest chance, that she could ever hold a babe…She yanked the sheet out of his hand and turned to face him, wrapping her legs around his body so that his sex could rest against her.

She kissed him, and rubbed her body against his, urging him to do what she knew he wanted to.

And he muttered, ‘You are not thinking clearly, Constance. God knows, I can hardly think at all. Now give me back the sheet before I do something that we may rue later.’ But he did not push her away.

‘Take me, Tony,’ she murmured. ‘I do not care. Take me, now.’ And she reached between them to guide him into her body.

He took a long breath and stayed her hand. ‘I must be mad to stop you. A moment. Please.’

There was a pause as he tried to remember what it was he wanted to say. ‘You may not care now. But no child of mine shall be a bastard. If I am right and there is a consequence to this act, do you swear to me that you will tell me, and accept the next time I offer for you?’

‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘Now, do it.’

Still he waited, and he was trembling with the effort. ‘There will be no fuss from you about my low birth, or my chosen profession, no nonsense about not knowing my family or my past. You will marry me without question, and follow where I lead.’

‘Yes, Tony,’ she panted. ‘Yes, now just do it, before it is too late.’

And he rolled over her, thrust into her, shuddered and collapsed.

She held him close and smiled into his shoulder, at the feel of him filling her, the thought of his seed inside her, and the idea that she might not be dead inside after all.

He raised himself up on his arms to look down into her eyes. ‘Woman, you are mad to be smiling at me. That was a pathetic effort on my part. I had hoped for so much more from our first true meeting. To leave you satisfied at least. But to so totally lose control of myself…’

‘It was fine,’ she assured him. ‘I am just so glad that we were not too late.’

‘Too late for what, sweet?’

‘You almost did it without being within me. I had hoped that it would happen this evening. And it would be a shame if I had missed it.’

He was staring at her in a most unusual way. And he muttered, ‘You husband was quite a bit older than you. Well, I suppose…’

And then he moved against her, to stroke inside her. ‘I think, my darling, that if you thought that was to be an isolated incident, there is yet more to teach you.’

She gasped as he grew hard again and her body tightened in surprise.

He sucked in his breath. ‘Do that again, love. Yes, just like that. And again. You are heaven, for I never expected to feel something so good in this life. You did not think I would stop at once, if you let me have you. I am insulted.’

More than once. He was right, there were things she needed to learn. He was large and he was hard for her again. Her excitement grew at the thought.

He paused. ‘Let us try something new.’

She wanted to argue that it was already new to her and quite good enough, when he had rolled so that she was lying on top of him.

She froze in confusion, wondering what he wished her to do next. And she shifted up on to her elbows so she could look at him. And the feeling took her. And she shifted, again. And again. And then she drew her legs up under her, and he grabbed her by the waist and let her do as she would, whispering words of encouragement as she rocked herself to climax upon him. Then he steadied her hips and thrust upward, again and again before his back arched, and he called her name, and then he pulled her down to lie on top of him again.

Their bodies were sweat slicked and chill in the darkness, and she shivered.

He threw the sheet over her back and wrapped his arms around her.

‘You were right,’ she whispered. ‘That was even better.’

‘And that was just the beginning,’ he promised. ‘We can try again, if you let me rest for a few minutes.’

‘Minutes?’ she asked in surprise.

‘Or longer, if you wish.’ He paused. ‘I had rather hoped to stay the night, if you would allow it. I will be gone before dawn, of course. No one will see me.’ He paused again, as though he thought, after what had happened, that she still might have the strength to deny him.

She snuggled into him, turned her face into his shoulder and kissed it. ‘Stay as long as you wish.’ Then she remembered her fears of the previous night. ‘As long as it is safe for you to do so. Barton is not still searching for you, is he?’

‘We are both safe from Barton. For a time, at least. He is not stalking me at the moment, and I hope he will have the sense to leave off bothering you, after the beating I gave him.’ His arm wrapped protectively around her to pull her closer. ‘So we should have several days of peace before Barton feels brave enough to try again. And I mean to spend every moment I can in your arms.’

Chapter Fifteen

Several days later, Tony was up early when Patrick brought him his breakfast tea, his pick working the lock mechanism in his practice safe. Barton’s lock would be keyed differently, but it would be good to have the confidence that picking the first lock might give him, and some idea of the total amount of time involved.

And the time it had taken so far was considerable. He had been working on his own lock for several days without success, even though he could work unhindered and get hints from the shape of the key. Stanton was becoming restless. There had been a terse note, reminding Tony of the urgency of the situation, as if he did not know it himself. Much more time and the government would be forced to take action, and the rest of the story would play out in The Times, much to the embarrassment of all concerned.

Patrick cleared his throat to announce breakfast.

‘Set the cup on the desk, Patrick.’

Patrick was looking over his shoulder.

‘You may go.’

‘I wouldn’t dream of it. This is too interesting to miss.’

‘That is my repayment for rescuing you from certain hanging so many years ago. Continued insolence. I had been better off to hire a servant in the ordinary way, than to take a charity case from Newgate.’

‘And what would you have learned from this imaginary servant—how to polish your own boots? Have you tried oiling the lock?’

‘And it has done me no good, other than to make the pick slip.’

‘You could drill the lock out, and gain entry that way.’

‘If I wished to announce the theft. I assume that Stanton wanted this done discreetly. And it would take even more time to drill through the steel.’

‘Last night, were you attempting this at Barton’s home? What methods did you employ? Did he leave you to work in peace, the whole night? For you were gone until almost dawn.’

Tony winced. He had gone to Barton’s home and observed the study window for a time, but, seeing light and movement in the room, he had given it up as a bad job. ‘He and I have come to an impasse, I fear. I have frightened him enough to keep him away from Constance. But now he will not leave his house, for fear of giving me a chance to enter. It is actually rather annoying, since it will make it difficult for me to finish the job, even if I can manage to open the safe.’

‘If you were not with Barton, then where have you been spending your time?’

Tony cleared his throat. ‘I spent the evening with the duchess.’

Behind him, Patrick chuckled. ‘You have had better luck unlocking her affections than you have had with Barton’s safe.’

Tony laid his check against the cool metal of the safe door and grinned. He had meant to visit her briefly the previous evening, and then return to his work. But several hours later, he was too exhausted to rise in any way, begging the woman to leave off tormenting him, assuring her that he had not an ounce of strength left in his body for the things she was suggesting.

And she had smiled at him, and rung for a bottle of champagne.

She had ignored him as he had argued that the wine would do more damage than good. Then she had taken the glass from his hand and drunk deeply. And she’d kissed her way down his body, taking little sips of the wine, and he’d had the strange sensation of bubbles on his skin, along with the kisses.

Then she had disappeared beneath the covers. And suddenly he was not nearly so exhausted as he had been moments before, and any plan he’d had of returning to Barton’s was long forgotten.

He could hear the clink of the china as Patrick picked up the teacup and began to drink it himself. He glanced over his shoulder. His valet was balancing his hip on the corner of his master’s desk, and helping himself to a scone to go with his tea. He glared.

Patrick shrugged. ‘The tea is getting cold, and you would only get butter on your hands if you had a scone. I will get you more, when you have opened the lock. So, tell me, does the dowager have a lady’s maid?’

‘Don’t be an idiot. Of course she does. And stop eating my breakfast.’

‘Tell me about her.’

‘I have been telling you about her for years.’ Although he couldn’t help but smile at the memory.

‘Not the duchess. The maid.’

‘She is just an ordinary maid. Not much in evidence, when I am there. Constance generally sends her to bed.’

‘The dowager is a most understanding and generous mistress, to be sure. I look forward to meeting her, again. And her maid, as well. Whose name is?’

‘Susan,’ Tony responded.

‘And I suppose she is old, pinch-faced, and sour tempered.’

‘She appears to me to be a most pleasant girl of twenty, blonde, somewhat plump and quite attractive.’

Patrick offered a toast with his teacup. ‘To the fair Susan. Now that things are settled, and the duchess knows who you are, I can hope but to spend a happy future, below stairs with a beautiful blonde.’

Tony swallowed and renewed his efforts with the lock. ‘Well. About that…’

‘You haven’t told her. Have you?’

‘We have been rather busy.’

Patrick poured another cup of tea. ‘In the past week, you have spent more time in her company than you have in all of the previous thirty years.’

‘But I would have to have been a fool to have spent it talking, Patrick. Apparently, the late duke was neglectful of his marital duties. And the duchess wishes to make up for lost time. I am happy to oblige, although I am near to exhaustion. Once the novelty of my visits wears off, we will have time to chat about old times. But until that time…Well, I’ll be damned.’

The locked turned under his hand, and the door to the safe swung open.

‘I have done it.’ He stared from the lock to Patrick and back to the lock. ‘I have picked a Bramah.’

Patrick stared over his shoulder at the open safe, and patted him on the back. ‘Well done, sir. Do you mean to try the challenge lock in the Bramah Company window, next? You could claim the two hundred guineas.’

Tony sat on the edge of the desk. ‘I cannot very well tell them it has been done. They’ll want to know how I managed it. And then they will change the lock to make it impossible again.’ He reached forward to touch the open door, as though he expected it to be an illusion. ‘And worse yet, they’ll wonder why a gentleman, who is not a locksmith by trade or by hobby, had reason to try.’ He laughed to himself. ‘I am the man that beat Bramah. But I cannot tell anyone, or I will not be able to use what I have learned.’

Patrick nodded in sympathy. ‘But you can use the information now, can’t you? Against Barton?’

Tony stared at the open safe. ‘I certainly hope so. If the man ever leaves his house, I mean to try.’

Tony leaned against the trunk of the tree that had become his evening home. He had spent three nights, perched like a bird in front of Barton’s house, watching the man sit in his study until almost midnight, only to be replaced by a servant, who was left to sleep in the chair by the desk. Tony had returned to Constance’s rooms each night, and let her soothe the frustration away, only to see the process repeated again the next night.

Barton must know he was watching. The guard upon the things was obvious enough, and all carried out in plain view of the window. So it was left to him to find a way to force Barton from cover, or the pattern could play out indefinitely.

Tony glanced back at the house, in frustration. To be so close to the plates, and finally in a position to have another go at the lock, only to be thwarted…

The room was empty.

He stared again. The lights were on, and the room was empty. He shifted his position in the tree to view it from another angle. There was no sign of life in the study.

His pulse quickened.

The front door of the house opened, and Barton appeared on the front step and paused, almost dramatically. He looked in the direction of Tony’s tree and made a grand, welcoming gesture towards the house, before signalling to a servant to bring the carriage around.

Tony sat perfectly still, straddling his branch as the carriage accepted its owner and drove away. The bastard had known he was there, and known his location as well. And he was leaving the house in plain sight and daring Tony to enter.

It was a trap, of course. But an irresistible one. Barton knew, and was taunting him.

Tony considered. If he was wise rather than clever, he would head away from the danger, and not towards. But he was tired of sitting in trees and trying to wait the man out. Now or never, then.

He dropped to the ground and made his way stealthily across the grounds to the ornamental drainpipe at the corner of the house that had served as ladder on his last entry. He rattled it, examining the areas nearest the ground for loosened bolts. It seemed secure, and so he began his ascent, working up the first flight, and the next, to the level of the window he sought.

Only to slip rapidly down. He’d dropped almost ten feet, and very nearly lost his grip before regaining his hold.

The bastard had greased the metal. Tony grinned through gritted teeth. If he had been careless, other than merely rash, he might have fallen, as Barton had intended.

He examined the stone front of the house. A more difficult climb, but not impossible. Clinging to the pipe with his legs, he pulled gloves from his pockets to cover the grease on his hands. Then he renewed his grip and reached out with a leg, finding a toe-hold in the stone of the house. And then a hand hold. And so began his ascent again.

It was unlikely that Barton would guess his route and lay another trap, but Tony felt carefully as he went for loosened stones or chiselled mortar. He was progressing nicely, within an arm’s length of the ledge beneath the window. He reached, grasped, and felt the pain before his fingers had fully closed on the bricks. When he pulled his hand away it was followed by a shower of broken glass.

He shook his hand to dislodge the shard that had poked through the palm of his glove, thanking God that the leather had taken the majority of the damage, and then reached out to brush the area clear, so that he might proceed.

An excellent effort, Barton. But not quite good enough. He examined the window for traps before opening it. It was mercifully clear and unlatched. Perhaps the next snare waited inside, since Barton did not think the window worthy of his effort. Tony made a quick circuit of the lit room before setting to work on the safe. No servants concealed behind furniture or curtains. And the key had been left on the inside of the door, as though he were invited to lock it, if he wished to work in privacy.

He turned the key in the door, and, as an afterthought, pushed a chair under the door handle as an additional safeguard. Then he set to work on the safe.

Tony tried to ignore the creeping flesh at the back of his neck. There was something wrong. He had expected the traps. But there should have been more of them. Aside from the unpickable nature of the lock, which was proceeding rather nicely, he thought. There had to be something that Barton knew, that he did not. The man would not relinquish the prize so easily, if he thought Tony could make it into the room. There must be something he was not considering, then. The thought nagged at him, as he shifted the pick in his hand to catch the next slider. Barton could not have concealed the plates on his person before leaving. They were not huge, but too large to slip into a coat pocket. He would not leave something so precious unguarded, would he?

And then the thought hit him. Barton might leave the plates unguarded to go to something he wanted more.

Tony had left Constance. Unprotected.

Even as he thought it, he felt the pick slip home to move the last slider. With a slight turn of his wrist, he opened the lock and the door to the safe swung wide.

He reached into the opening.

There were no plates within.