by Lisa Kleypas
Leo followed the direction of her gaze. “Who is that?”
The young man came forward, removing his hat to reveal a mop of shaggy black hair. “Miss Catherine?” he said awkwardly.
“William,” she breathed in wonder.
“Yes, miss.” His mouth curled upward in the beginnings of a smile. He took another hesitant step, and bobbed in a sort of clumsy bow.
Leo intruded between them protectively and looked down at Catherine. “Who is he?”
“I think he’s the boy I once told you about … who worked at my grandmother’s house.”
“The errand boy?”
Catherine nodded. “He was the reason I was able to send for Harry … he took my letter to him. My lord, do let me speak to him.”
Leo’s face was implacable. “You would be the first one to tell me that a lady never stands and converses with a man on the street.”
“Now you want to pay heed to etiquette?” she asked in annoyance. “I’m going to speak to him.” Seeing the refusal in his face, she softened her voice, and surreptitiously touched his hand. “Please.”
Leo relented. “Two minutes,” he muttered, looking none too happy. He remained right beside her, his eyes ice-blue as he stared at William.
Looking cowed, William obeyed Catherine’s motion to come to them. “You turned into a lady, Miss Catherine,” he said in his thick South London accent. “But I knew it was you—that face, and those same little spectacles. I always hoped you was all right.”
“You’ve changed more than I, William,” she said, trying to summon a smile. “How tall you’ve grown. Are you still … working for my grandmother?”
He shook his head and smiled ruefully. “She passed on two years ago, miss. Doctor said ’er heart gave out, but the girls at the ’ouse said it couldn’t be, she didn’t ’ave one.”
“Oh,” Catherine whispered, her face turning bleached and stiff. It was only to be expected, of course. Her grandmother had suffered from a heart ailment for years. She thought she should feel relieved by the news, but instead she only felt chilled. “And … my aunt? Is Althea still there?”
William cast a guarded glance around them. “She’s the madam now,” he said, his voice low. “I work for her, odd jobs, same as I did for your grandmother. But it’s a different place now, miss. Much worse.”
Compassion stirred inside her. How unfair it was for him to be trapped in such a life, with no training or education to afford him any other choice. Privately she resolved to ask Harry if there might be some kind of employment for William at the hotel, something that would lead him to a decent future. “How is my aunt?” she asked.
“Ailing, miss.” His thin face was sober. “Doctor said she must of got a bawdy-’ouse disease some years back … got in ’er joints and went up to ’er brain. Not well in the ’ead, your aunt. And she can’t see none too good, neither.”
“I’m sorry,” Catherine murmured, trying to feel pity, but instead a mass of fear rose in her throat. She tried to swallow it back, to ask more questions, but Leo interrupted brusquely.
“That’s enough,” he said. “The hackney’s waiting.”
Catherine gave her childhood friend a troubled glance. “Is there something I can do to help you, William? Do you need money?” She instantly regretted the question as she saw the shame and offended pride on his face. Had there been more time, had the circumstances allowed, she would have found a better way to ask.
William gave a stiff shake of his head. “Don’t need noffing, miss.”
“I’m at the Rutledge Hotel. If you wish to see me, if there is something I can—”
“I wouldn’t nivver trouble you, Miss Cathy. You was always kind to me. You brought me medicine once when I was sick, ’member? Came to the kitchen pallet where I slept, and covered me wiv one of the blankets from your bed. You sat on the floor and watched over me—”
“We’re leaving,” Leo said, flipping a coin to William.
William caught it in midair. His fist lowered, and he looked at Leo with a mixture of greed and resentment, his face turning hard. When he spoke, his accent was exaggerated. “Fank you, guvnah.”
Leo guided Catherine away with an uncompromising grasp on her elbow, and helped her into the carriage. By the time she had settled in the narrow seat and looked out again, William was gone.
The passenger seat was so small that the mass of Catherine’s skirts, layers of pink silk arranged like rose petals, spilled over one of Leo’s thighs.
Staring at her profile, Leo thought she looked stern and nettled, like the Marks of old.
“You needn’t have dragged me away like that,” she said. “You were rude to William.”
He gave her an unrepentant glance. “No doubt later, upon reflection, I’ll feel terrible about that.”
“There were some things I still wanted to ask him.”
“Yes, I’m sure there was quite a lot more to be learned about bawdy-house diseases. Forgive me for depriving you of such an enlightening conversation. I should have let the two of you reminisce about the good old times at the brothel while you were standing on a public street.”
“William was the dearest boy,” Catherine said quietly. “He deserved a better lot in life. He had to work from the time he could toddle, cleaning shoes and carrying heavy buckets of water up and down the stairs … he had no family, no education. Have you no sympathy at all for those in unfortunate circumstances?”
“The streets are filled with such children. I do what I can for them in Parliament, and I give to charity. Yes, I have sympathy for them. But at the moment I’m more interested in your unfortunate circumstances than anyone else’s. And I have a few questions for you, starting with this: What happened at intermission?”
When Catherine didn’t reply, he took her jaw in a gentle but secure grasp, and forced her to look at him. “Let’s have it.”
She gave him a strained glance. “Lord Latimer approached me.”
Leo’s eyes narrowed, his hand lowering from her chin. “While you were in the theater box?”
“Yes. Harry and Poppy didn’t see. Latimer spoke to me through the curtain at the back of the box seating.”
Leo was filled with explosive rage. For a moment he didn’t trust himself to speak. He wanted to go back and slaughter the bastard. “What did he say?” he asked roughly.
“That I was a prostitute. And a fraud.”
Leo wasn’t aware that his grip had tightened until she winced. His hand loosened instantly. “I’m sorry you were subjected to that,” he managed to say. “I shouldn’t have left you. I didn’t think he would dare approach you after the warning I gave him.”
“I think he wanted to make it clear that he’s not intimidated by you.” She drew an unsteady breath. “And I think it hurt his pride all those years ago, to have paid for something he didn’t receive. Perhaps I could give him some of the money Harry settled on me, and that might be enough to make him leave me alone. To keep quiet about me.”
“No, that would only start us on a course of prolonged blackmail. And Latimer would never keep quiet. Listen to me, Cat … Harry and I have discussed how to manage the problem. Suffice it to say that in a few days, Latimer will find himself in a position in which he’ll either end up in prison or be forced to flee England.”
“For what crime?” she asked, her eyes widening.
“There’s a long list to choose from,” Leo said. “He’s tried nearly everything. And I’d rather not tell you the specific offense, because it’s not appropriate for a lady’s ears.”
“You can make him leave England? Truly?”
“Truly.”
He felt her relax a little, her shoulders slumping. “That would be a relief,” she said. “However…”
“Yes?”
Catherine angled her face away from his searching gaze. “It doesn’t really matter. Because what he said was no less than the truth. I am a fraud.”
“What self-pitying tripe. You were a fraud as an aspir
ing prostitute. As a proper and well-mannered lady who holds an irresistible attraction for ferrets, you’re completely authentic.”
“Not all ferrets. Just Dodger.”
“Proof of his excellent taste.”
“Don’t try to be charming,” she muttered. “There’s nothing more annoying than someone trying to make one feel better when one wants to wallow.”
Leo bit back a grin. “I’m sorry,” he said contritely. “Go on and wallow. You were doing so well at it until I interrupted.”
“Thank you.” She heaved a sigh and waited a moment. “Blast,” she finally said, “I can’t do it now.” Her fingers crept further into his, and he smoothed his thumb over the backs of her knuckles. “I want to correct something,” Catherine said. “I was never an aspiring prostitute.”
“What did you aspire to?”
“To live somewhere peaceful, and be safe.”
“That’s all?”
“Yes, that’s all. And I haven’t managed to do it yet. Although … the past few years have been the closest I’ve ever gotten.”
“Marry me,” Leo told her, “and you can have both. You’ll be safe, and you’ll live in Hampshire. And you’ll have me, which is obviously icing on the cake.”
A reluctant laugh escaped her. “Rather more icing than the cake needs.”
“There is no such thing as too much icing, Marks.”
“My lord, I don’t believe that you sincerely want to marry me as much as you want to have your way.”
“I want you to marry me so that I don’t have my way all the time,” he said, which was the truth. “It’s not good for me to be indulged. And you tell me no quite frequently.”
She gave a huff of wry amusement. “I haven’t said it to you nearly enough lately.”
“Then let’s practice in your hotel suite. I’ll try to have my way with you, and you can try to refuse me.”
“No.”
“There, you see? You’re sharpening your skills already.”
Leo directed the driver to take them to the alley that bordered the mews behind the hotel. It was a far more discreet way to enter than parading through the lobby. They went up the back stairs and along the hallway that led to Catherine’s suite. The hotel was extraordinarily quiet at that hour, everyone either out for their evening pursuits, or sleeping soundly.
When they reached Catherine’s door, Leo waited as Catherine searched for the key in the little knitted silk bag she had looped around one wrist.
“Allow me,” Leo said when she had found the key. Taking it from her, he unlocked the door.
“Thank you.” Catherine took back the key and turned to face him at the threshold.
Leo stared down into her fine-boned face, reading the emotions that flickered in her eyes: despair, refusal, yearning. “Invite me in,” he said softly.
She shook her head. “You must go. It’s not seemly for you to stand here.”
“The night’s still young. What will you do in there, alone?”
“Sleep.”
“No, you won’t. You’ll stay awake as long as possible, worrying about nightmares.” Seeing that he had scored a point, Leo pressed his advantage. “Let me in.”
Chapter Twenty-six
Leo stood in the doorway, tugging off his gloves casually, as if he had all the time in the world. Catherine went dry-mouthed as she watched him. She needed him. She needed to be held and comforted, and he knew it. If she allowed him into her hotel suite, there was no question as to what would happen next.
She started as the sound of voices came from the end of the long hallway. Reaching out hastily, she grabbed the lapels of Leo’s coat, pulled him across the threshold, and closed them both safely inside the room. “Hush,” she whispered.
Leo braced his hands on either side of her, caging her against the door. “You know how to keep me quiet.”
The voices became louder as people advanced further along the hallway.
Smiling into her tense face, Leo began in a perfectly audible tone, “Marks, I wonder if—”
She drew in an exasperated breath and crammed her mouth against his, anything to shut him up. Leo fell obligingly silent, kissing her with bold and avid pleasure. Even through the elegant layers of his clothes, she could feel the heat and hardness of him. Desperately she fumbled with his clothes, pushing her hands beneath his coat where his body heat had collected.
She moaned, the sound catching between their lips. His tongue went deep, and she felt corresponding twinges of pleasure low in her stomach. Her legs lost their strength, her balance eroding. Her spectacles became dislodged, catching between their faces. Leo reached up to remove them carefully. He slipped them into his pocket. With deliberate slowness, he put the key in the door and locked it from the inside. Catherine stood mutely, torn between desire and caution.
In the silence, Leo went to light a lamp. A rasp, as a match was struck … a glow, as the wick kindled. Catherine blinked owlishly at the shadow-crossed room, at the large dark shape of him before her. She ached for him, her body clenching on intimate emptiness. A tremor went through her as she thought of how he had filled her, the sweet heaviness of him inside her.
Blindly she turned to face away from him, offering access to the row of hooks that fastened the back of her dress. The fabric tightened across her breasts as he grasped the dress at the back. There was a series of deft tugs, the garment loosening, slipping lower. She felt his mouth brush the tender nape of her neck, a whisk of exciting warmth. He pushed the gown to her waist and over her hips. She moved to help him, stepping out of the heap of layered pink silk, kicking off her slippers. Turning her around again, Leo unhooked her corset, pausing to kiss each of her shoulders in turn.
“Take down your hair.” The touch of his breath on her skin made her shiver.
Catherine obeyed, pulling the pins from her chignon, collecting them in a little bundle. After setting them on the dressing table, she went to the bed and climbed onto the mattress, waiting tensely as he undressed. She couldn’t help wishing she had her spectacles back as she stared at the intriguing, hazy shape of him, the play of light and shadow on his skin.
“Don’t squint so hard, love. You’ll strain your eyes.”
“I can’t see you.”
He approached her, every line of his body replete with masculine grace. “Can you see me at this distance?”
She contemplated him thoroughly. “Certain parts.”
Leo gave a husky laugh, crawling onto the bed, over her, bracing his weight on his arms. The tips of her breasts hardened beneath the light veil of her chemise. Their stomachs pressed together, the erect shape of him caught exquisitely against the corresponding notch of her body.
“What about now?” Leo whispered. “Am I close enough?”
“Almost,” she managed to say, staring into his face, taking in every breathtaking detail. She had to force out words between uneven breaths. “But not quite…”
Leo bent to take her lips, locking his mouth over hers in a blaze of sensation. She lost herself in it, a kiss that was at once giving and demanding. He searched her gently, meeting the shy advances of her own tongue. She tasted inside his mouth for the first time, and felt the jolt of his response.
With a ragged sound, Leo reached for the hem of her chemise. Pulling the garment upward, he helped Catherine to lift it over her head. He untied the tapes of her drawers with torturous slowness, running his fingers along the loosening waist, easing the thin muslin fabric down her hips. Her garters and stockings soon followed, leaving her completely exposed.
Murmuring his name, Catherine twined her arms around his neck and tried to draw him over her again. She arched into him, gasping with delight at the varied textures of him, roughness and silk, smoothness and steel.
He brought his mouth to her ear, his lips toying with the soft lobe before he whispered, “Cat. I’m going to kiss all the way down your body and up again. And I want you to lie perfectly still and let me do as I please. You can do that, c
an’t you?”
“No,” she said earnestly, “I really don’t think so.”
Leo averted his face for a moment. When he looked back at her, his eyes were sparkling with amusement. “That was actually a rhetorical question.”
“A rhetorical question has an obvious answer,” she argued, “and what you’re asking is not—” She broke off, unable to speak or think as she felt him nibble and lick at a sensitive part of her neck. His mouth was hot and silken, the flat of his tongue like velvet. He worked his way along her arm, pausing at the hollows of her inner arm and wrist, caressing the pulse that beat visibly in the fragile skin. Every inch of her body prickled with awareness of him and what he was doing.
His mouth wandered back along her arm to the side of her breast, the trail of his mouth leaving her skin flushed and damp. He kissed all around the rosy peak without touching it, until she felt a whimper climb in her throat. “My lord, please, ” she gasped, sliding her hands into his hair, trying to guide him.
He resisted, grasping her wrists and pulling them to her sides. “Don’t move,” he reminded her gently. “Or do you want me to start over?”
She closed her eyes and lay with aggrieved stillness, her chest heaving. Leo had the gall to laugh softly, his mouth returning to nuzzle the undercurve of her breast. A cry escaped her when she felt his lips brush against the gathered crest. Slowly his mouth opened and sealed over her, and he began to suckle. Heat writhed in her stomach, and her hips lifted from the mattress. His hand settled on her taut abdomen, rubbing in a soothing circle, pressing her back down.
It was impossible to lie motionless as Leo tormented her, arousing her skillfully but providing no relief. Impossible to endure … but he wouldn’t allow otherwise. He made his way down to her stomach, licking and blowing lightly into the hollow of her navel. She was weak and perspiring, wet at the roots of her hair, her body racked with delight that verged on pain.
His mouth glided across the vulnerable softness of her groin to her inner thighs, his tongue playing gently on either side … everywhere except the wet pulsing center.
