To Jonathan they would, but she didn’t really want to push things to see if it really would happen.
“I still think this is a bad idea,” she said.
“It is too late for that,” Jonathan said.
Near them, Buxton was touting his wife’s ability, telling those who were listening that she was able to reach the dead and have them talk to their loved ones.
“She’s been trying for days now to reach Victor Strauss,” Buxton said. “She’s had no success, because I believe that Strauss is not dead. I talked with a man who works at the city storage for deceased persons, and he admits to taking a bribe to say that Strauss had drowned that day.”
Belinda had not heard that part. She glanced at Jonathan, who looked very uncomfortable, and she could see that he had heard it. Had they not told her so that her look of shock would be genuine?
“We had not expected the amount of people who are here tonight,” Buxton said. “True it was in the newspaper, but it was not meant to be a place for everyone to come and hear what is about to take place. However, my wife does not want me to kick people out, despite the fact I think it is the best thing to do. Spirits don’t like crowds, or so I think.”
There was a great deal of mumbling, and when Buxton rapped his stick on the floor again, the crowd grew quiet once more.
“We will start now,” he said. “There are rules. You must be absolutely silent. Anyone who makes an outburst of any kind will be taken from the room, forcibly if need be.”
“Now, be silent, and allow this to take place as it should.” Belinda shivered at the sound of Buxton’s voice. It was obvious he was used to giving orders, and to having them obeyed. “Now, Alice, darling, how would you like things to proceed?”
“I want to be near the windows,” Alice said. “I want them to be open, and I want Belinda near me. If a spirit is likely to appear, it will more than likely do so if someone whom they loved in life is close to them.”
“If he loved her,” a voice called out. “If she was as bitchy to him as she has been to others…” The woman did not finish her sentence. There were a few rumblings of laughter, and then Buxton slammed his stick against the floor.
“Those who are around the woman who just spoke, please point her out.” People moved away from a woman standing near the middle of the room. Belinda didn’t recognize her, and she was sure that the people around her were turning her in, so to speak, because they wanted to stay for the performance.
“Remove her,” Buxton called out. Two footmen pushed their way to where the woman stood. One indicated she should walk in front of them, and she did, but only after glaring at Buxton and saying, “She’s a bitch, and a whore, and everyone knows it.”
“If you are without sin, then go ahead and judge,” someone yelled from the back of the room. Applause came from about half the people, or so Belinda thought. She reminded herself that what these people thought shouldn’t matter to her. What mattered was what she thought, and what Jonathan thought.
He was still behind her, and he’d put his arm around her to keep her pulled close to his chest. His strength became her strength, and it kept her from responding to the woman who had yelled out her feelings.
Alice waited for the noise to die down once again, and then she sat in the chair that Buxton had brought forth for her.
“Isn’t there supposed to be a table, and candles, and eerie music?” someone asked.
Buxton snapped his fingers. This time the footmen escorted a man from the room. He made a bit of a fuss, but he was laughing too, and Belinda wondered how much the man had to drink before the proceedings began.
No one else caused a scene, and Alice sat in her chair and waited. She closed her eyes, and opened them, and then closed them once again. After about fifteen minutes the crowd grew restless, and Alice finally shook her head.
“Nothing,” she said.
“What a surprise,” someone called out. “Obviously this was set up to make your new friend look good.”
“How does it make her look good?” someone else asked. “You’re out of your mind if you think so. If the man’s not dead he can’t come through in a séance. He deserted his wife.”
The room once again filled with talk as people yelled out their thoughts on the matter. Belinda turned to Alice, who was now staring at the floor.
“Are you all right?” she whispered, kneeling in front of her new friend.
“I don’t like this feeling,” Alice said.
“What feeling is that?” Belinda asked.
“Like something is about to happen and I can’t stop it,” she said. “I have a sense of dread unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.”
“Let me find Buxton,” Belinda said. She stood, and realized that pandemonium had broken out. People were screaming at each other, and some of the men, and women, were pushing at each other, and it seemed as if fistfights would break out at any moment.
“Jonathan!” she called out, looking for her lover. She didn’t see him anywhere, so she next called for Buxton. He didn’t answer her, either. She turned back to where Alice still sat in the chair, looking as if she might faint at any moment.
From out of nowhere, Charlotte appeared and grabbed Belinda by the arm. “Let’s get Alice upstairs, now. The men are trying to clear the room. I don’t think any of us expected this sort of a crowd. There are Bobbies around, and I hope they can help.”
Belinda and Charlotte helped Alice up, and as they moved along, Carin joined the group and kept people out from in front of them. When they had Alice upstairs they helped her out of her dress and shoes, and had her lie down on her bed.
“I’m so sorry,” Belinda said. “It was a madhouse out there, and I’m so sorry that you have been affected like you have.”
“Someone is going to die,” Alice said. “I don’t know who, but I know that someone is going to die.”
Her words hit Belinda in the gut. She glanced over at Charlotte, who was staring at Alice with what Belinda thought was probably the same look on her face, one of shock.
“I’ll go for Buxton,” Carin said, and she hurried out of the room.
“I had no idea your senses were that strong, Alice,” Charlotte said.
“Neither did I,” Alice answered. “I’m not going to do this again, ever. It’s frightening.”
Buxton burst into the room and ordered everyone out. When she was downstairs, Belinda found Jonathan standing with Andrew and Clarissa.
“Quite a mess,” she said as Jonathan welcomed her into their circle and put his arm around her.
“Indeed,” he said. “How is Alice?”
“Strained and stunned,” Belinda said. She repeated their friend’s prediction that someone was going to die.
“It was all a show,” Andrew said.
“I don’t think this is part of the show,” Belinda said. “Alice is very concerned that she saw something that means someone is going to die.” She shivered, and Jonathan held her closer.
Gabby came up and said, “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do with this, journalistically. I think I need to chat with Fergus to see what we need to do with the morning newspaper.”
She turned her gaze on Belinda. “I’ll need a few quotes from you. Perhaps we could do it at your house? Fergus and I could meet you there in half an hour or so. That will give you time to think about what you want to say.”
“Wonderful,” Belinda said. She’d been on pins and needles when this had started, but she’d also been excited about the idea of sucking Jonathan’s cock after it was all over. The truth was they’d gone through all this and had accomplished nothing.
They were just about to head toward their carriage when Parker Mills stepped in front of them. “I want in on this interview I just heard you discuss. This is a huge story, and the Times won’t be left out.”
“You can talk to Gabby,” Jonathan said. “We’re going home.”
Jonathan loaded her into the carriage and sat opposite her.
“This isn’t the ending I was hoping for,” she said.
“Don’t worry, my love, you can still suck my cock after they’re all gone.” Belinda couldn’t help it. Even though there was the idea that someone might die, she laughed at Jonathan’s words.
“At least I know you’ll always find the bright side of things,” she said.
“Always, my darling,” he said. “I waited way too long to take you to my bed. That means that, whether good or bad things happen, I’m going to take you as often as possible.”
They were words she loved to hear. She just prayed that whatever Alice had foreseen wasn’t either one of them. But she didn’t want it to be her friends, or her sister. If her ex-husband was the intended victim, she had a feeling she really wouldn’t care.
She said as much to Jonathan.
“Does that make me a bad person?”
“It makes you a normal person,” he said. “But let’s wait and see what happens before we start feeling bad about who lives, and who dies.”
Chapter 11
By the time Gabby, Fergus, and Parker, left the house, it was after two. Belinda had been surprised to see Parker arrive with them.
“Isn’t there such a thing as an exclusive story?” she’d asked Gabby.
“That’s an easy one,” Gabby said. “I’m going to put my story in the morning paper, and he’s holding his until the afternoon.”
“My editor won’t be happy with me, but we’ll work through his anger,” Parker said.
They talked about the events, and Belinda made sure to keep her mouth shut about Alice’s prediction that someone was going to die. She might tell Gabby about it later, but she didn’t want Parker to hear it. It was a sensational part of the night’s events, and she didn’t want it to be in the newspaper.
Of course both reporters had asked about the fact that Belinda and Jonathan planned on getting married.
“I don’t think you should put that in the story until we’ve had time to talk with our parents,” Belinda had said. Jonathan had remained silent on the fact, and when she’d looked at him, he’d just shrugged as if he didn’t care which way the announcement went. Belinda hoped they didn’t see it as permission to say they were engaged.
Now, as they climbed the stairs to the bedroom, Belinda wondered about what might happen tomorrow.
“I don’t think we should announce it just yet,” she said as they entered the bedroom. “We should wait and see how society accepts me after the upcoming events with Victor.”
“I could give a rat’s ass about what society thinks,” Jonathan said as he shrugged out of his vest—he’d already taken off his jacket downstairs—and tossed it onto a chair. “Besides, I think it’s a bit late for that. From what you told me every woman in the shop today—wait, yesterday—overheard the conversation. We are as good as married to them. And when you think about it, it makes your objection moot.”
“I understand that, but…”
“No more buts, Belinda. The conversation is over. Hurry and get that dress off before I tear it off. You know I’m capable.”
“Then you’d have two dresses to replace,” she said.
“Don’t argue with me,” he said. “Now, shall I rip it off or call for Merry?”
“Let her sleep,” she said. “Now, about this marriage being in print. I really think…”
“Enough, Belinda.”
“But what if…”
“I said, enough.”
“The others think…”
“Bend over the bed.”
“What?” She took a step back and stared at him.
“Bend. Over. The. Bed.”
“You can’t mean to spank me. Just for having a conversation?”
“I can and I will. Just a small one, to remind you that as your future husband I will not allow you to argue with me. Call me old-fashioned, but in private, I’m the boss. You have no worries anymore, Belinda. I will take care of this business, and we will wed and be happy. Now, do as you’re told.”
Belinda crossed her arms over her chest and pursed her lips. She wanted to tell him to go to the devil, but she knew it would do no good. She took off her clothing, down to her corset, and then bent over the bed as he’d instructed.
A tingle of excitement crept up her spine.
“Stay in that position and I’ll be right back,” he said.
She turned her head enough to watch him walk to her dressing table and pick up her hairbrush.
“Not again. Jonathan, please.”
“Hush,” he said. He rubbed the wood on her bottom, and she tensed.
“I thought I was going to…” Her words drifted off as he tossed the brush onto the bed, grabbed her hips and filled her completely.
The idea of the spanking must have excited her just a bit, because she was so wet he easily slid inside her. He grasped her hips and fucked her hard. Belinda grasped the bedding under her and relished the feel of him inside her. It had been so long since she’d had sex, and to have it now, twice in one day, was almost more than she could take. Once again he hit all the right spots, and from this position she didn’t need to have pressure on her clitoris. He pumped and thrust until the room spun, and when it stopped spinning she realized it must have done the same for him, because he was flat on top of her, and he’d stropped thrusting.
He kissed her shoulder and said, “You may be the death of me. I think I’ve lost all control of my body.”
She giggled and thrust back at him. “But you’re so young. I’m not sure I want a husband who can’t have sex twice in one day without collapsing on top of me.”
“We’ll see about that,” he said. “After I take a small nap.”
The small nap turned into a longer sleep, and when Merry knocked on the door at eight, Belinda yelled at her to go away.
“But Milady, the police are here,” she said through the door.
Belinda sat up straight in bed, and Jonathan did the same thing. “Don’t come down,” she said. “They don’t need to know you are here.”
“They probably already do, but I think you’re right that it’s best if I stay here.” He got up and splashed water on his face. “I’ll get dressed and go out the back. Then I’ll come in the front. It’s trite, and I’m sure they’ll see right through it, but who cares, really.”
Who cared indeed, Belinda wanted to ask. Her reputation was already in tatters, but she thought that maybe her upcoming marriage to Jonathan would make things better. It would just go downhill again if people thought they were spending nights together before the wedding.
When she came into the sitting room the two men introduced themselves as Officer Caine and Officer Gregory. They did not give their first names. One of them held the Sentinel in his hands.
“We’d like to speak with you about the article in this morning’s newspaper,” Caine said. “And about the idea that your late husband is actually not your late husband.”
“Gentlemen, may I offer you tea?” she asked as she indicated they should sit back down. While they waited she pointed at the newspaper Caine had in his hand. “I’m afraid I have not seen this morning’s edition. You caught me still abed.”
“So it would seem,” Caine said as he handed her the paper. She scanned the headline. No Contact With Lord Strauss, the top headline screamed. Under it in smaller type were the words, Does This Mean the Lord is Not Dead?
“What do you know about the possibility that Lord Strauss faked his death?” Gregory asked.
“Not a thing,” she said. “In my mind my husband died and left me in debt.”
“And you became a well-known courtesan,” Gregory said.
Belinda stiffened. “I became a mistress,” she said. “I did not offer myself to many men, but to one until the situation was over. I object to your use of the term courtesan.”
“My apologies,” Gregory said, even as he shrugged as if to say a courtesan and a mistress were the same thing.
“Tell me about last night,” Caine s
aid. “I understand from the local bobbies that it was quite a row.”
Belinda sipped her tea slowly and related the events from the prior evening, taking care to leave out the part where Alice said someone would die.
“Seems like a well-planned theatrical performance,” Caine said. “Why did you do it?”
“We did not expect the information to be released in the newspaper,” she said.
“I find that very doubtful, seeing as how the owner is one of your friends,” Caine said. “But let’s get back to the idea of your husband faking his death.”
The door to the sitting room opened and Jonathan came in. He looked as if he’d just woken from a restful sleep. “I wanted to check on you as quickly as possible, my love,” he said. He stopped short and frowned in the officers’ direction. “And who are you?”
The two men stood and introduced themselves. Jonathan crossed the room and hugged Belinda close to him. “I was worried about you,” he said loud enough for them to hear. I came as soon as I could.”
“Thank you, darling,” she said. She poured him a cup of tea and he sat down next to her.
“We were just talking with Lady Strauss about the possibility that her husband is not dead,” Caine said. “Do you know anything about it?”
“Not a thing,” Jonathan said. “Last night’s séance was an attempt to contact his ghost, and was unsuccessful.”
“It turned into quite a melee,” Gregory said. “Seems a bit shameful, actually.”
“We had not expected such a crowd,” Jonathan said.
“When was the last time you had contact with your husband, Lady Strauss?” Caine looked at her as if she’d just stolen the royal jewels.
“Ten years ago, when he died,” she said.
“When he supposedly died,” Caine said. “Are you sure you haven’t seen him?”
His Lady Brat (Rakes of Mayfair Book 6) Page 13
