A Wicked Liaison Page 19

  He was on her as soon as the door was shut, shoving her against the wall, his fist in her hair and his mouth on hers. She felt his hands gripping her shoulders and fumbling at the front of her gown for her breasts.

  Neither hand held the gun.

  She made as if to hold him about the waist, then plunged her hand into his pocket to seize the pistol and point it into his ribs.

  It took a moment for him to recognise the feel of the metal barrel in his stomach, and stop molesting her. ‘Constance!’

  ‘Step away from me, Jack. And do not make any sudden movements. I do not know much of guns, but I seriously doubt that I will miss you, should I shoot.’

  ‘Yes, Jack. Do step away from her. For if she does not want to shoot you, I most assuredly do.’

  Tony’s voice startled her so much that she almost dropped the gun.

  Seeing her indecision, Barton made a lunge for the weapon only to come up short, as Tony grabbed him by the coat collar and yanked him away from her, and back into the room. Barton tripped and landed hard on the floor, momentarily dazed.

  ‘Constance, if you don’t mind?’ Tony held out a hand for the gun, and she gingerly handed it to him.

  He pointed it at Barton, and confided, ‘I really don’t know much more about weapons than you do, but I should hate to see you kill him, no matter how much he might deserve it. If either of us must shoot, let it be me.’

  ‘You’re all right,’ she breathed, leaning back to let the wall support her weight.

  He reached over and yanked hard on the bell pull to summon the servants, and glanced apologetically at Constance, before focusing again on Barton. ‘I fear, darling, that I cannot keep my presence here a secret. I will need help removing this refuse from your room.

  ‘You will never believe the night I’ve had. First a greased drainpipe. Then a handful of broken glass. And when at last I get the damn safe open, there is no sign of the plates.’ He shook his finger at Barton.

  ‘You thought you had me there, I’ll wager. And perhaps, if you were decent to your servants, they’d have bothered to clear the evidence of the true hiding place out of the grate.’ He pulled a burned scrap of paper from his pocket, and held it out for Barton to see. ‘You burned a book, didn’t you? Two, actually. Volumes one and two of A History of British Currency.’

  He glanced at Constance again. ‘That is Jack’s idea of wit, darling. Let us be glad you will not have to suffer with it. He ripped the books from their bindings and burned them, then wrapped the plates in the book covers and put them back on the shelves. I have spent countless hours, fiddling with picks to crack that safe, and all for no reason. The plates were in plain sight and I could have left with them at any time.’

  There was a sharp knocking at the door and Constance rushed to let the servants enter. Susan entered, in her night clothes, accompanied by…

  Constance stared in shock. Tony’s valet, Patrick, hair mussed and in his shirtsleeves, had followed her maid into her bedroom.

  Even Tony looked surprised.

  Patrick shrugged. ‘I recognised the pull on the bell rope. You ring as if you are trying to yank it off the wall. Most distinctive, sir.’

  ‘And you happened to be here, by fortunate coincidence?’ Tony enquired.

  ‘With you spending so many evenings from home, I had little to occupy my time. And it occurred to me that there might be another who would sympathise with my idleness.’

  Susan giggled.

  Tony struggled to find an appropriate response, before giving up. ‘Well, you will not be idle tonight.’ He pointed to Barton on the floor. ‘Patrick, I wish this removed. From the room, certainly. From the country, if possible. I understand there are often ships in need of crew and none too particular about where the men come from. Use your initiative.’

  Patrick looked at Barton, and back to the maid beside him. And he said softly, to Susan, ‘This is the man who hurt you?’

  Susan’s eyes grew round, and she nodded her head.

  Patrick’s smile was broad and full of menace. Suddenly, he did not look like a humble manservant, but a large, and very threatening, man. He seized Barton from off the floor and punched him once, hard and in the face. ‘No problem, sir.’ He dragged the limp body towards the door.

  ‘Breakfast will be late tomorrow, Patrick,’ Tony called after him. ‘Do not trouble yourself.’

  ‘Very good, sir.’

  Susan stepped out of the way and closed the door again.

  Tony listened to the sound of Patrick and Barton retreating down the hall, before stepping close and seizing her around the waist. Then he spun her around in his arms, kissed her once, full on the mouth, and threw her on to the bed.

  He was alive. Young and strong and safe. And she loved the feel of his hands on her, even as her mind struggled to sort out what had just happened. She pulled herself up to lean upon her elbows, trying to regain decorum. ‘Tony, what the devil are you doing?’

  He was standing over her with a most curious expression on his face, a mixture of joy and lust. ‘Celebrating. You are safe, and Barton is in the soup. And I have done it, Constance. I have picked the unpickable Bramah lock. What say you to that?’

  ‘Thank you?’ she said, hesitantly.

  ‘Actions speak louder than words, Constance.’ And he climbed into bed after her and threw up her skirts.

  ‘You do not mean…’ She reached to smooth her skirts back down.

  ‘Oh, yes, I most certainly do.’ He caught her hand, and placed it on the front of his breeches, so she could feel how ready he was. Then he began to undo his buttons.

  She had just threatened to shoot a man, after attempting to seduce him, and now, she was going to make passionate love to another. If she looked into the mirror, would she recognise the woman she saw? ‘Do not be ridiculous. I cannot. I am still dressed. The door is not locked. I—’

  He pushed her down on to the bed, kissing her in a way that left no doubts as to how much he wanted her, and how soon.

  ‘Well, at least take off your boots,’ she suggested breathlessly, recognising the old familiar Constance, trying to regain control.

  He ignored her.

  And the woman that she had become did not care in the slightest. He came into her fast and hard, and she arched as the shock of it ran through every nerve in her body and hummed in her blood. And as he thrust, he told her of things he wanted to do to her, and with her, and for her, each one more scandalous than the last.

  And she wanted it all. She wanted his breath on her throat and his voice in her ear, and his body hard inside her for ever. But for now, she wanted him harder and faster, and she told him so over and over again until her breath was a gasp and her voice a sob and her body was trembling with the need for release. And when he demanded it, she came with him, and they collapsed, shaking with weakness, into a tangle on the bed.

  He moved against her and she caught her breath in surprise as her body shuddered again, and he rolled away so that he could look into her eyes, reached a hand to her and stroked her to another climax.

  And somewhere, deep down, her brain was screaming that this was madness, and it must stop. What had she just promised him? And what could he make her do, when he took her to this state? He knew her body, and he used his knowledge. She was helpless to resist him because it was all too good, and the waves ran through her again as she trembled at his touch.

  She looked into his eyes. They were not empty, like Barton’s, but full of shadows. He looked into her soul and he knew her. But who was he?

  She sat up and looked around her in confusion. She was lying fully dressed in her bed with a strange man, whose boots were leaving mud on the sheets. And he’d just taken her so violently that her body ached, and then soothed the ache away with his hand.

  And he’d done it all because she begged him to.

  Now, he was undressing her with exquisite care, undoing her gown and removing her stays, pausing to touch and kiss with featherlightness in ways that
he knew pleased her. And now he was taking the pins from her hair and letting it down, combing it out with his fingers.

  He knew every inch of her. He knew her life and her finances, and her body, all the intimidate details that she’d never dared share with Robert…

  Why had she told him? And why had she not told her husband? Who had she become, now that she’d chosen to fall from virtue with such wanton abandon? Because she certainly was no longer herself.

  And who was he? What did she know of him, other than that he was a thief, and that he said she could trust him?

  And that he loved another.

  He was still fully dressed, and she was naked beside him with her hair free around her shoulders. He was smiling his enigmatic smile as he admired her in her vulnerability.

  She pulled the sheet around herself before she let him pull her down beside him and love her again.

  He looked at her curiously, waiting for her to speak.

  ‘It is truly over, then, with Barton?’

  ‘He would be a fool to remain in the country, even if Patrick allows him to. I will turn the plates over to the Earl of Stanton in the morning, to be destroyed. If Barton reappears, St John will have no trouble hanging him as a traitor. You need never worry about him again.’

  He might as well have been speaking nonsense. ‘You spoke of the plates before. What are they? And what does St John Radwell have to do with it all?’

  Tony pulled away from her, and puzzled for a moment, before saying, ‘Ah. Yes. I’d meant to tell you about that. Barton was a counterfeiter. Or wished to be. And St John works for the government, and they wanted the plates back, so he hired me to steal them.’

  ‘So you are not a thief at all.’

  ‘Well, I am still a thief. A very good one. But currently, I steal when I am ordered to, by a higher authority.’ He grinned. ‘Perhaps I am a humble civil servant. I quite like the idea. It sounds most respectable.’

  ‘Then why did you not tell me?’

  He looked evasive. ‘Frankly, it had not really occurred to me that there would be a difference. Stealing is stealing, and I have not much concerned myself with the reason. St John does not wish me to discuss our association, since the world knows little of what he does, and to reveal my part in it reveals his.’

  ‘So you are a spy, then.’

  He thought about it. ‘I suppose you could say that.’

  The truth began to dawn on her. ‘When I found you here, in this room, you were spying on me. And my best friend’s husband sent you. Because he thought I was a traitor. Just like Barton.’

  Tony tried to laugh, but it came out sounding small and nervous. ‘I soon set him straight on that. The very first night, I told him you were innocent.’

  It was some consolation, she supposed, to know that he thought she was innocent, even though he continued to spy upon her. ‘And this great secret, which you could not share with me to spare my feelings. Is that the only secret? Or are there other things that you have not told me?’

  He looked positively uncomfortable, and had trouble meeting her gaze. ‘Well, everyone has secrets, I suppose.’

  ‘But you have more than most, I think. What is it that you are still not telling me, that makes you so evasive now?’

  He attempted to laugh again, and failed completely. ‘You make it sound very ominous. I swear, I was not attempting to hide things from you.’

  ‘But you have hidden them all the same. I do not like being played for a fool, Tony. Not by my friends, and not by you.’

  He flinched at the word ‘friends’ and then looked her squarely in the eyes. ‘I do not think you a fool, nor do I wish to play games with you. But I wish, Constance, that by now you would have looked with your own eyes and known the truth for yourself.’

  ‘So that you did not have to admit to it? What is it, that is so horrible that you cannot speak it out loud? You had the gall to offer me marriage, and yet you cannot manage to be honest with me.’

  ‘Perhaps it is because I knew how you would respond, should I tell you the whole truth. It is quite plain, Constance, that whatever you might pretend, on the subject of love you are as cold hearted as any woman in my experience. It was a hundred times easier for me to steal your heart than it would have been to gain it by honest means. If I came to you and presented my case openly, with the rest of your suitors, you would have dismissed me as unworthy of your time and gone after Endsted and his title.’ He was able to laugh again as he mocked her. ‘But it excites you if I approach in darkness and you let me take what I want from you.’

  Then he touched her skin, and her body responded with a shudder of passion. ‘You want what I can give you,’ he said, ‘but you wish to be free of me when the sun rises, in case there is a better offer. And I let you use me, because, God help me, I cannot resist you.’

  ‘I was using you, was I?’ She looked down at her bare body, next to his. ‘When you threw me down and took me, just now? Of course, you did manage to get rid of Barton for me. Although you said before that you did not wish to wait for payment, until after the deed was done, I should think, after tonight, that our accounts must be close to even.’

  ‘And now you are trying to tell me that you behaved thus just so that I would help you?’ He stared at her in disbelief. She could see the pain in his eyes. ‘Why are you doing this, Constance?’

  ‘I do what I must to survive, Tony. I did when I married Robert, and I must continue doing so, now he is gone. I am beautiful, or so everyone tells me. If that is all I bring to a marriage, then I must hold out for the best offer. Soon the beauty will fade, and, if I am not careful, I will be left with nothing.’

  ‘Just as you were when your husband died?’ His smile was sardonic. ‘A pity. For he seemed such a good choice and it all came to naught.’

  ‘Do not dare to question my marriage, you—’

  ‘Thief? Criminal? Commoner?’ He got out of the bed and did up his breeches. ‘Guilty on all counts.’ He turned and bowed to her, tugging his forelock. ‘And now you no longer need my services, am I dismissed, your Grace?’

  It was over. His business was completed, and he was leaving, unless she could think of a way to stop him. But she was not sure she wanted him to stay, if she could not trust him to tell her the truth. ‘Well, you didn’t think it would last for ever, did you?’ She heard the quaver in her own voice, and wondered if she needed to speak the words to herself.

  ‘No, actually, I didn’t. In my experience, happiness seldom lasts for long. But I thought when we parted, you would not need to convince yourself that you had been coerced. Do you need me to be the villain of the piece? Does it make you feel better to think you had no choice?’

  He stepped closer and she shrank from him, pulling the bedclothes up to cover her nakedness.

  ‘Let me tell you the way I remember what happened. I came to your bed because you invited me there. You wanted me, your Grace, because you knew what I could do for you, and it had nothing to do with money or deeds. You wanted me to love you as your husband could not.’

  Even as he said it, she could feel the need burning inside of her.

  ‘Now you are going to pretend that while you writhed in ecstasy beneath me, it was because I was forcing you to make a noble sacrifice to preserve your reputation for someone more suitable.’

  He reached to his throat and ripped off his cravat and threw it to the floor. Then, he opened his shirt and pointed. ‘See there? These are the marks of your kisses on my throat. Your nails have raked my back and your hands have held me so tight that my arms are bruised. I’ve heard every word you’ve said to me, when we made love. I know what you felt.

  ‘Perhaps there is already another player waiting in the wings. Someone with a title, or money honestly come by. Someone you can introduce to your friends.’

  She watched as he stepped towards the door of her room, preparing to walk out, only to check himself, curse, and turn as usual to leave by the window. ‘He can be the one to ruin your reput
ation. For I suspect the next man to share this bed will think nothing of arriving at night and leaving by the front door in the morning for all to see.’

  He reached into his jacket and dropped a card on the floor. ‘If you need further assistance, go directly to my man of business. There will be funds for you, should you ever need them. What I have is yours to command. You need never speak to me again, so there will be no misunderstanding of my motives. As I told you before, I do not expect payment for acts done in friendship. But do not ever claim again that you need do something against the wishes of your conscience, because of a lack of funds.’

  And he walked across the room and stepped out of the window and out of her life.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Tony woke as the earth tipped out from under him, and he landed face first on the floor of the study.

  ‘Rise and shine, Smythe.’ Stanton’s voice was disgustingly cheerful as he dropped the wing chair with a crash, next to Tony’s prone body.

  ‘What the devil…You bastard!’ Light came streaming in the windows as his visitor yanked aside the velvet curtains. The sunlight was blinding, stabbing into his brain, as he tried to focus on the figure in silhouette against the morning sun.

  ‘And a pleasant good morning to you, as well. You missed our regular appointment. Twice. To prevent your missing it a third time, I have come to you.’ St John stared down at him in bemusement. ‘I have seen better things than you stuck to the bottom of my boot after a night in Whitechapel. And smelled better as well. For God’s sake, man, pull yourself together. There is work to be done.’

  ‘I resign.’

  ‘I am not totally sure that that would be permitted. While you have not technically enlisted, I might still find a way to court-martial you. Perhaps not. Thieves in the army are usually flogged or hanged. Do you have a preference?’

  ‘Why don’t you just shoot me and get it over with?’

  ‘Very well, then.’ And before Tony could process the action, St John produced a pistol and put a bullet into the wall next to him.