What Happens in Piccadilly

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What Happens in Piccadilly Page 21

by Bowlin, Chasity


  “That’s hardly a persuasive argument,” she pointed out. “Those are, in fact, the very reasons I ought to refuse you.”

  “I don’t care about any of it. They can all hang… the whole bloody world can hang,” he said with a half-smile.

  It was the smile, she thought, that did her in. Standing there, shirtless, covered in blood, and yet he looked like he hadn’t a care in the world. In that moment, he could very well have been the sort of rogue she’d always been warned about by Effie. “It’ll be difficult for the children… when it’s time for them to go into society as they get older, people will hold it against them—that I am what I am.”

  He nodded. “They will. And what of our children, Callie? We already have a houseful, but I can assure you, if you become my wife… it will not be a chaste union. I will have you in my bed at every opportunity.”

  “You’re very certain of yourself!”

  He grinned then. Bare chested, with blood still seeping from the wound on his side as he casually poured himself a glass of brandy from the decanter on the table—he might have never been a rake or a rogue by society’s standards, but he more than looked the part. “I’m very certain of us. And Claudia tells me that you like me. That you like me. She placed extra emphasis on the word and I can’t imagine she’s wrong about such things. Women rarely are.”

  “She’s not a woman. Not yet.”

  “Certainly closer to it than I’m comfortable with,” he added. “It makes my heart race and my palms sweat when I think of all the horrible young men out there who will be after her fortune… or her virtue.”

  “But it’s perfectly all right for you to be after mine? Virtue, that is, as I currently have no fortune to speak of,” Callie added the last with a self-deprecating laugh.

  He drained the glass in one long swallow, his breath hissing out after. “Yes, but my long-term goals are entirely honorable.”

  Callie’s breath hitched. There was something in the way he emphasized long-term goals that told her he was planning something more immediately that might be slightly less honorable. And a part of her was terribly excited by the prospect. “I’m more concerned about your short-term goals.”

  “You should be,” he said, and then strode toward her, closing the distance with long decisive strides.

  *

  As he crossed the room toward her, seated on the edge of his bed with her hands folded primly in her lap, there was nothing quiet and demure about her expression. Her eyes widened, her pupils dilated, and her soft, lush lips parted on a soft gasp—she looked like a woman who was perfectly willing to be compromised. And while he had no intention of allowing things to go too far, he also knew that if Calliope was given the opportunity to think clearly, she’d allow herself to be swayed by reason, by the innumerable list of perfectly valid points that made a union between them seem both scandalous and somewhat foolish. And he couldn’t let that happen.

  He stepped closer, until his knees were bracketing hers, and then he leaned forward, so much so that she had to lean back. She was now reclining on his bed, her weight resting on her elbows, and he was looming over her. And there wasn’t a hint of fear in her expression. Challenge? Yes. Excitement? Certainly. Curiosity? It was there in spades. There was also heat. He could see his own desire reflected back at him.

  “Is this how you mean to convince me?” she demanded. “Bully tactics and intimidation?”

  “Is that what this is?” he asked, his lips quirking in a smile. “I thought it was just a kiss.”

  “If I’ve learned one thing from you thus far, it’s that there is no such thing as just a kiss,” she said. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement and her breath had quickened.

  “Having enjoyed such a limited quantity, Calliope, you’re hardly an expert yet,” he replied smoothly. As he smoothed one errant tendril of her lovely hair from her face, the tips of his fingers skated over the soft, tender skin just below her jaw.

  “And you are?”

  And with that challenge, she’d effectively sprung the trap. “I can demonstrate if you like.”

  But he didn’t have to. Because she lifted herself up, looping one hand around his neck. Her fingers threaded into his hair and she pressed her lips to his. It was a bold move and a brash one, though not entirely unexpected. His Calliope was no shrinking violet. She was a passionate creature and a woman of incomparable bravery and strength.

  Winn took control of the kiss, gentling it, easing her into things that were unfamiliar and more than likely unexpected. It was the most natural thing in the world to raise one knee to the mattress, to climb onto the bed and pull her up with him until they were both lying across it. Mindful of his injury and that getting blood on her dress would likely not endear him to her, he shifted to his side. It had the added benefit of giving his hand freedom to roam over her lush curves even as he coaxed her lips apart and slid his tongue between them. She stiffened against him, more from shock than protest, and after a second’s hesitation, settled once more. It took only the span of a few heartbeats until she was returning his kiss just as ardently, mimicking, exploring, and God help him, seducing him with every breath.

  The pins slipped from her hair, letting the mass fall free of its loose chignon to fan out over the pillow. The taste of her, the softness of her lips, the sweet and slightly breathless sounds she made—it was far headier than the brandy he’d just consumed. And so much more addictive. He craved her. He wanted her the way he’d never wanted another woman in his entire life. But it wasn’t just the need to have her physically, to know every intimate secret of her body. It was the need to hear her voice, to see the soft smile that tugged at her lips when William was being incorrigible, or the way her face softened and her eyes lit when she looked at Charlotte. Then there was her quiet patience with Claudia, her innate understanding of what a girl poised between two phases of her life might need. It seemed that everything she did was thoughtful, measured, and imbued with wisdom… until it came to him. Then she was just as reckless and foolish as he was. It was that which gave him hope for them both.

  In a very short time, she’d become all-consuming for him. It ought to have terrified him. And were it not for the fact that he knew firsthand what danger she faced, it might have. But the very real prospect of losing her so surpassed any inconsequential fear of commitment that it became an insignificant thing entirely. He’d faced that fear and come out the other side of it determined to take what happiness he could with her and damn the consequences.

  Pulling his lips from hers, he kissed a trail along her cheek to her ear, and then down her neck. His lips skated over the delicate and lovely arc of her collarbone. And even as plied her with kisses, he was tugging at her gown until it slipped lower, freeing her perfect breasts. She still wore her stays and chemise, but they offered little impediment. Each garment was tugged aside with ruthless efficiency until he could see the rosy peaks of her breasts and he could place his mouth over one taut nipple.

  A sound escaped her that was half-gasp and half-pleasured moan. Her hand tightened on his hair, not to push him away but to hold him even closer. Her other hand was at his back, her nails scoring his skin. And then he became aware of another sound—an insistent knocking upon the door that could only mean one thing. Trouble.

  Pulling back from her, Winn tugged her clothes back in place and helped her to sit up. She stared at him, her eyes glazed and her parted lips still swollen from his kiss.

  “You were quite right, Calliope. There is no such thing as just a kiss,” he said, his gaze sweeping over her.

  She scrambled off the bed. “You should answer the door… after I’ve hidden in your dressing room.”

  Winn said nothing. He simply watched her as she scampered toward the doorway and disappeared beyond it. Cursing her, cursing his own foolishness in thinking that kiss would only impact her ability to think clearly, he sat up and yelled, “Enter!”

  The door opened and William, Claudia and Charlotte appeared, their little
faces etched with concern. That would effectively wilt any man.

  “You’re hurt,” Charlotte said and immediately popped her thumb into her mouth.

  “It’s not very bad,” he said. “Just a scratch. I’m quite all right.”

  “You’re certain?” Claudia demanded. “You’re not simply saying that because men have to pretend that nothing hurts and they’re completely invincible?”

  His brows furrowed as he frowned at her. “You sound remarkably like Miss St. James.” It felt strange to call her that, to speak so formally of her when just moments before she’d been laid out before him and he’d been—well, it was best not to think of what he’d been doing.

  “Where is Miss St. James?” William said sharply. “She said she was coming up here.”

  “She’s in the dressing room,” Winn answered honestly.

  Claudia was suddenly wearing a frown to match his own. “Why is she in your dressing room?”

  Calliope emerged then. Her hair tidied and pinned back up somehow. She carried a stack of cloth that looked suspiciously like one of his shirts. “I was getting bandages, Claudia. Your uncle’s wound isn’t very serious, but it still needs tending. If you’d like to help, why don’t you run down to the kitchen and tell Cook we need some hot water and whatever herbal salves she might have to ease the pain and prevent the wound from becoming putrid.”

  “I’ll stay,” Claudia said pointedly. “It wouldn’t be proper, after all, for the two of you to be alone. But William and Charlotte can go. You remember what you are to ask for, William?”

  “I’m not stupid,” he groused. “Hot water and salve.”

  “Go with him, Charlotte,” Callie said. “Neither of you is to carry the hot water, but you may carry any medicines that Cook sends up.”

  The little girl and her brother ran from the room and Claudia stepped deeper into it. She settled herself on the one chair in the room, a wing chair before the fire and looked at both of them with far more sophistication than a girl of ten or eleven should ever have. “To borrow William’s words, I’m not stupid either. What was really going on in here?”

  Winn smiled. Calliope might be able to fight him, but she wouldn’t fight them both. “You should know, Claudia, that I have honorable intentions. I’ve asked Miss St. James to be my wife.”

  Callie gasped. Claudia clapped her hands and squealed in delight, much the way a child actually should.

  “That’s wonderful news!” Claudia exclaimed, a bright smile lighting her face.

  “Well, not precisely,” Winn said. “Miss St. James has not yet accepted my offer. She’s worried that because of her position as a governess and the fact that her parents may not have been married, that people will not look favorably upon our union.”

  “No one who matters would think anything of it, other than that you belong together and should be very happy with one another,” Claudia said. “And if they do think otherwise, they’re not someone you should wish to know anyway.”

  Out of the mouths of babes. He turned to look at Callie and noted that she appeared utterly at a loss. “Those are very wise words, indeed, Claudia.”

  “It isn’t that simple,” Callie said, looking at him. “We both know that. And it’s terribly unfair of you to bring Claudia into this. You mustn’t say anything to your brother and sister, Claudia. I don’t want any of you disappointed.”

  “I won’t. But it’s perfect, you know?” she said. “William is terrified that you’ll leave us one day. So is Charlotte, though she won’t say anything. She changed the name of her doll to Calliope. She said it was so she could keep you always. If you marry Uncle Winn, then you’ll be our aunt. And no one could ever make you leave us.”

  And that was the moment Winn saw her crumble.

  *

  Callie’s shoulders began to shake. The sobs started before the tears. She didn’t even really understand what she was crying for. Yes, there had been two attempts on her life in the past twenty-four hours. Yes, she’d confronted the very man who’d abused her so horribly as a child, the same man she now knew had failed to honor what must have been her mother’s dying wish, thus altering the course of her life forever. And the man she adored, the man she’d fallen in love with probably from the first moment she’d laid eyes upon him, had asked her to marry him and all she could do was count the dozens of reasons why such an action would be doomed.

  Winn rose from the bed and moved toward her but Claudia rushed to her first. The little girl wrapped her arms around Callie and squeezed her tightly. “I’m fine.” The words were broken by her sobs and sounded completely unconvincing.

  “It’s all right,” Claudia said. “When you’re so used to things going wrong, it’s very scary when they suddenly go right.”

  Callie laughed through her tears. “You’re a very bright girl. Do you know that, Claudia?”

  “I might have an inkling,” she said. “There aren’t many people in this world that I would ever consider trusting. Everything my father said to me, I doubted. Everything my mother said… well, she said it with good intentions but could never follow through on any of it. But I trust you. And I trust Uncle Winn. And if I can trust you both, don’t you think you really ought to trust one another?”

  Callie wrapped her arms around the young girl and placed a kiss to the top of her head. “Very, very wise. I imagine that when I am your aunt, you will lead both your uncle and me on a merry chase.”

  “When not if?” Winn said.

  “When,” Callie replied, nodding her head. “When. And we should make it sooner rather than later, I think.”

  “I’ll get a special license. We’ll marry tomorrow,” he said.

  Claudia began spinning in circles, laughing and dancing around Callie. She was still doing so when her siblings returned. And then the squeals and laughter of all three of them nearly brought the roof down.

  Chapter Twenty

  It was late afternoon when Highcliff sauntered up the steps to the Piccadilly residence of the Earl of Montgomery. He’d been summoned, and considering that Effie had told him just that morning that the earl, his nanny and his brood were to make for the country, he could only assume that there had been a not insignificant event which had inspired the change of plans.

  The butler, a surprisingly young fellow for the position, opened the door and showed him in. “His lordship is in the library, Lord Highcliff. If you’ll follow me—”

  “No need, young man. I know the way,” Highcliff said, grinning as he breezed past the startled servant. Entering Montgomery’s library, he found the man pacing, his fingers steepled under his chin and a pensive look on his face. “This doesn’t bode well.”

  Montgomery looked up. “Good. You’re here. I need a special license.”

  Of course he did. Highcliff stepped deeper into the room, moved past Montgomery and made directly for the brandy decanter perched on a table in the corner and poured himself a healthy measure into one of the ready glasses. “Naturally. Everyone in bloody London needs a bloody special license because they all want to bloody well get married. What happened to men wanting to avoid the parson’s mouse trap? Hmm? I’ve never in all of my life known so many men who wanted to go skipping down the aisle to a lifetime of being harangued by one woman for the remainder of their days!”

  “Calliope does not harangue, Highcliff.”

  “Yet,” he replied, and drank deeply from his glass.

  “We went to the St. James Workhouse this morning.”

  Highcliff lowered his glass. “That’s a bit of hell on earth. Did you discover anything?”

  “Apparently there was a note in the basket with her when she was left there. Those in charge at the workhouse were supposed to contact a woman named Eliza at the Lampton Theater in Drury Lane.”

  “Which they didn’t do obviously,” Highcliff grimaced. “To what end?”

  “It’s not unheard of for childless couples to pay for an adoption… but in this case, I imagine there was a debt or favor owed.
The vicar had a sister who wanted a child and the weasel who was in charge of the workhouse had a baby in his possession that would fill the bill.”

  “He’ll be dealt with,” Highcliff said.

  “I’d be obliged on that score. You aren’t the only one who can call in favors, but I imagine yours are less about simply removing his livelihood,” Winn said. He’d sent letters to several very prominent members of Parliament following the chaotic events of the morning, but it didn’t feel like punishment enough for the man’s sins. “I’ve made arrangements to have him removed from his little kingdom. I’ve also sent a letter to the trustees of the Averston estate. No doubt, they’ve already convened to discuss matters. Another reason for the urgency of my marriage to Calliope. It’s one thing to murder a lowly governess. It’s another to kill the Countess of Montgomery in cold blood.”

  Those were all excellent points that Highcliff had no counter for. He drained his glass and refilled it. “Fine. You want a special license, I’ll get you one. But you’re not marrying her for such noble reasons, Montgomery. You’re marrying her because you want to marry her. Why?”

  “Because I love her,” Montgomery replied without hesitation. “If the opportunity presented itself, would you not marry the woman you love?”

  Highcliff shrugged. “There is no woman I love.”

  Montgomery’s brow arched. “You’ve evaded the truth often, Highcliff, with misdirection and humor. But I believe that might be the first time I’ve ever known you to lie outright. By the way, she’s here. Effie, as she has asked that I call her, is upstairs with Callie now. We have things to discuss, all of us together.”

 

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