“Allow me.” Frank Lockwood grabbed two wingback chairs—which was not an easy feat— from two of the women in the hall and allowed them to lead the way from the door. They’d been awestruck to see him and fluttered away like young school girls to tell him where to place them.
That done, he returned.
Frank smiled as the women passed him on their way into the hall. A few watched him with obvious hesitation but more than a few smiled, unable to resist the man’s masculine appeal.
Leah, however, did resist. What was Frank doing in the Spinster’s House? She started to collect her book, being careful with her movements as he strolled toward her.
When she could not ignore him anymore, she turned toward him just as he directed his timeless smile to her.
And that’s what the smile felt like. As though time stood still at the beauty of his grin. And there was something equally timeless about Frank. Even when he’d been a boy, his laugh had been so rich and his looks classical, as though an artist had sketched life into him.
When Leah thought of a prince, she thought of the eldest Lockwood. His features were strong but not severely so. His hair was thick and a blond that had been darkened by the sun, and his eyes were hazel, though the green in their depths was prominent.
He may not have had a title, but if he ever told anyone that he was a prince, she was sure those who didn’t know better would believe him.
“Mrs. Wells, I enjoyed your class.” His eyes showed his comment was genuine. He held out his hand. “I’m Frank Lockwood.”
She took his hand and just as quickly released it before turning away. “I’m glad you enjoyed the lesson, but you’re not supposed to be here. This place is only for women.” She gathered her books in front of her chest and held them with both hands.
His smile never wavered. He leaned against the small writing table and held her gaze. “I’m here for you.”
Leah tightened her hold on the books and caught herself before she took a step back. “What do you mean?”
His eyes narrowed slightly. “William wanted me to make sure you actually knew something about the subjects you taught. This is part of his investigation into you.”
Her heart jumped into her throat, and she struggled to gather air for her next breath. What did Frank know? “He said he’d protect me.”
“And he will,” Frank assured her, letting her know that he knew a great amount about her last conversation with William. “But this is him looking after the women of the house. You must remember that he has been charged with their care.”
“I would never hurt them,” she said with more heat than she’d intended.
“I know,” he said with such calm that Leah could almost feel it. Her pulse settled a little, and she licked her lips.
His eyes went to her mouth before returning to her eyes. “What do you know about John Elliotson?”
“I know that he currently studies at the University of Edinburgh while also working at St. Thomas here in London. His main instructor is Thomas Brown, who claims to be a philosopher, but you and I both know that he, too, is in your field. Psychology.”
Frank’s eyes widened. “You know about me?”
She lifted a brow. “What woman in London doesn’t? Lady Cort has written many articles where your work is mentioned.” Though Leah would have known about Frank even if not a word had been printed about him. She’d done her own research on all the men. Her brother had helped with that effort. She’d claimed her reasons rested with simply needing to know the dynamics of the entire situation when really it had been curiosity. She’d known these men before they’d been men and cared for them all.
She just cared for one of them more than the others.
William was investigating her? No wonder she’d not seen him for three days.
“Have I met your approval?” Leah bit out.
Frank’s smile widened, but his eyes remained narrowed. “For now. I must admit that you’ve exceeded my expectations, but don’t forget that I also saw you at the observatory.”
How could she? She’d seen Sarah pull out the blade and cut Frank right before she’d fled the building.
“How is your hand?” she asked.
“As though you didn’t set your friend to attack me.”
He was angry, and she’d not known it until this moment. He was very good at covering his true emotions.
“She was not my friend, and I would never ask anyone to do such a thing.” It made her ill to think of it.
He stepped closer. “I find that hard to believe when you were willing to take a fire poker to a man.”
“He’d have hurt Clara.”
He shrugged. “Clara was his property.”
Leah nearly dropped her books. “I take back my concern for your hand. I only wish now that I’d done the deed myself.” She started toward the door.
“You think this habit of yours was created naturally?” Frank asked at her back. “Or would you say your need to care for the women is part of your spirit? Something forced upon your nature?”
She stopped and turned to him again, knowing that this was yet another test. “Maine de Biran,” she whispered.
He smiled and took the seat in front of the writing desk, settling himself in as if he planned to have a long discussion. She didn’t have any other lessons for the day, and he probably knew that. “You claimed to have studied under Mr. Biran, did you not?”
Leah walked over, put her books down, and moved her chair closer to him. In this subject, she had no anxiety and admitted that a part of her was excited to have someone to discuss theories with. “Well, you and I both know that Mr. Biran’s theory makes no sense. One cannot place ‘cause’ and ‘force’ together, and they never appear in any of his articles separately.”
Frank laughed, and their discussion began. It was full of debate, but there was much they agreed on, and Leah found herself laughing more than once during the discussion. Two hours had passed before Leah realized it.
“Oh, I should see if Cook needs help in the kitchen.” She stood.
Frank didn’t. “Don’t go.”
She looked away and wondered at her nervousness. “I shouldn’t…” Though a part of her wanted to.
He grabbed her hand and forced her to meet his eyes once more. “Stay.”
She smiled. “I can’t.”
He was silent for a moment and then let her go before leaning away. “You won’t have time to help in the kitchen. William is on his way to speak with you.” He looked at the clock and then at her. “In fact, he should be here any second now.”
No.
Leah panicked. The battle had finally come to her door. Thinking quickly, she moved across the room and grabbed the broken chair.
“What are you doing?” Frank called.
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CHAPTER FOURTEEN
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William strolled into the sitting room and found Leah fixing her skirts. Frank was staring at her oddly.
But no matter. William was not here for him.
Finally, she lifted her head and their gazes caught. “Go away.”
He’d do no such thing. It was time he confronted her. He strolled into the room and readied himself to take the chair that sat before her and Frank.
“Don’t—”
It was all his friend got out before William felt himself falling through the air. He landed hard on his rear and winced.
Leah’s golden eyes were bright, and her hand flew to her mouth, but not quick enough to suppress the giggle.
William swung his head to find Frank looking amazed and then his friend betrayed him by laughing loud enough to alert the whole house. William slowly turned toward Leah. Whatever she saw on his face stole the last of her laughter and made her turn white. Then she stood and fled the room.
“I didn’t know what
she was doing,” Frank said between breaths. “Oh, that was the most hilarious thing I’ve seen in years. She was so sure you’d not obey her command to leave.”
Frank was right. He’d fallen right into her trap. Literally.
He smiled. It appeared their game had taken another turn.
He turned toward the door at the sound of more laughter and noticed a few women had poked their heads into the room. Zed was there as well and even he was grinning.
William stood and walked out of the room. He started down the hall then swung around the banister and started up the stairs, taking them two at a time. He knew exactly where she’d have fled, into a room she thought safe from him. Her bedchamber. She’d learn very quickly that when it came to this war there was nowhere she could hide that he’d not seek her out.
He arrived at her room to find the door ajar.
She stood on the other side and lifted her hand in protest. “Not another step.”
He took that forbidden step and pushed the door open.
Something hard hit his head, but it was nothing compared to the cold water that fell. In an instant, his body was soaked, and when could see again, he found a white bowl with intricate blue designs on the floor.
It had been yet another trap, and he’d fallen for it.
Leah gasped, and her hands went to her mouth again, but the laugh poured past her fist and tears streamed down her eyes.
More laughter came from behind him, and he saw that the hall was full of women. Many seemed awestruck, but others laughed heartily.
And just down the hall, he spotted Frank and Zed, who’d obviously followed him to make sure he didn’t kill her. They were laughing louder than the women.
William turned to Leah, stepped into the room, and closed the door behind him. He ran hands through his wet hair as he glared at her. It was a look he’d perfected over the years that had made men cower in their boots.
Leah only laughed harder, her entire body shaking with it, even as she took one step back after another. “This all serves you right! You never listen.” Her cheeks were pink, not from embarrassment, but from exertion. God, she was beautiful even with that ridiculous wig on her head. “Let that be a lesson to you.” Her eyes were full of mirth and pride.
He could feel the fabric sticking to his form and though he knew he should feel angered by this, all he felt was arousal. He took a step toward her.
She stopped laughing. “William, stop.”
He took another step and then started toward her.
She lifted her hands. “Be a good sport. Know when you’ve lost.” She backed into a corner and William pressed his arms on the walls on either side of her and thought this trap very efficient.
Her eyes widened.
“Scared?” he asked.
“Of you hurting me?” she asked. “No. Not at all, but I’d like my dress to remain dry.”
He smiled and then laughed. He liked her answer. He didn’t want her to be afraid. He’d already promised to protect her. However… “If you’d wanted a dry dress, you should have thought better of your plans.” He started to lean his body toward hers.
“William, no!” She placed her hand on his chest. Her fingers were warm through his shirt. “Stop this.”
He added pressure slowly, dragging out his torment before his body touched hers. Then he lowered his arms and wrapped them around her, molding her to him. She fit perfectly.
“Liam! Stop this!”
Liam again. Only his grandmother called him that anymore. He’d not been called anything but William since his childhood. He lowered his head and rested his face in the curve of her neck. She was so warm and soft and smelled of flowers.
“William.” Her voice had lowered and become breathy. Her hands clenched his sides as she tried to push him away.
He ran his lips against her throat and felt her shiver.
He gripped her hips and she heard a rip, likely from a spot she’d mended repeatedly in the past. The dress, like many of her others, had barely been holding itself together.
“You’ve ruined my dress,” she whispered, still willing to blame him for the tear.
“I’ll buy you another.” It was the proper thing to do if he’d actually been the one to ruin it. He kissed her throat, a very improper thing to do.
She froze and sighed. “You'd better.”
He smiled. Lifting his head, he pushed away from the wall and walked over to the sole trunk in the room.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
In answer, he opened the trunk and grabbed hold of the first garment he found. It was the tattered striped dress she’d been wearing the day they’d formally met. It took little to no effort to rip the rag in half.
Leah gasped, but he’d already ruined two more gowns before she reached him. “Have you lost all your senses!” She yanked the torn gray dress from him, which only made it tear more. Then she stared down at the garments that were scattered around her feet, and he saw her face turn red from controlled anger. There was vicious murder in her eyes, and he was glad she was not near a fire poker.
“I can’t believe you did this.” Her voice held no emotion, speaking well of the control she had over herself at the moment.
What did it take to make her snap? Was it only in the face of another’s pain that she really let herself loose?
“I’ll buy you new garments.”
She narrowed her eyes. “One was easily explained. Three not so much.”
“You’ll need them for the party.”
She stilled with the garment in her fingers. “Party? I thought it was only tea.”
He nodded. “Tea with the Spinsters. Dinner with my friends... and my family.”
Her eyes went wide, and she stared down at the gray dress. Then she looked at her trunk, which now only held the blue dress she’d worn to the Runner’s station, the one with the buttons that continuously came undone. Then she met his eyes. “I’ve never cared much for that dress either.”
He broke out in laughter before reaching for it. “Another woman would have refused such offerings.”
She grabbed it from his hands and ripped the dress in two herself. “This woman happens to take any advantage that she can. Only the wealthy have such luxuries to turn their nose up at offered help. My pride is not so frail.”
He wondered what events in the past had shaped and formed this woman’s resolve. But he thought one thing about her statement wrong. He would never assume her pride frail and now believed that the matter rested with what she took pride in. Test her intellect or her morals and she’d attack, but he’d hardly had to fight to get her to let him give her a ride in his carriage three days ago, and he’d never forget watching her stroll down the street with a mission to turn Mr. James into nothing more than a slab of meat on a skewer.
He backed into a corner once more and ripped the dress fragments from her hand before effectively trapping her on the wall again. He found it hard to know where to focus his eyes. She was magnificent and, this close, he noticed a light spread of sunspots at the tops of her cheeks. Her golden eyes held a starburst of a paler color, making them all the more spectacular.
He’d been staying away from the woman for reasons he wasn’t quite sure of and yet, at the same time, he’d been unable to stay too far. He’d watched her from distant places in the house or listened from another room as she gave her lessons or even a few of the personal conversations she’d had with the women. It seemed to all boil down to the fact that he’d made the right decision by not alerting the Spinsters of her treachery. No matter her reasons for the blackmail, the women obviously bloomed under her tutelage, and he didn’t know another woman who could do everything she did.
She was sweet and compassionate but strong enough to make sure she’d not be mistreated. Like a soldier, she could be quiet and stealthy, yet with the skill of a master musician, she’d beat a drum to a tempo that could declare war, a rhythm that matched the furious beat of his heart.
And so
far, she’d kept to her word. There had been no more notes of blackmail. Though something still wasn’t right about her story, and William couldn’t figure out what.
So, he’d enlisted help.
Currently, Levi was using his connections with the government to find any information he could on a Mr. Wells who might have a wife named Leah, but London was large, and it could take days for anything to come from that search.
On his own end, William owned stocks in many of England’s most prominent shipping companies and had his own men searching for records of a Mrs. Wells who’d come over from France.
Three days and he’d heard nothing, and his irritation at the silence had grown so swiftly that he’d known it was time to seek her out and learn more.
But he never would have thought he'd learn what he had.
Leah Wells enjoyed playing and did so with a precision that left him catching his breath and waiting in anticipation for what she would do next.
She added more pressure to his body and still, he didn’t move.
Her brows creased. “You’re bruising me.”
And that was another thing. She reminded him of someone else, a girl from his past who would always complain about pains that didn’t actually exist, always caused by him. And just as he’d known Natalia had not been as delicate a creature as she pretended to be, neither was Leah Wells.
And she’d called him “Liam” twice.
He stared into her eyes but couldn’t match the girl from his past to the woman before him. He could hardly remember what Natalia looked like. Her face was a blur, but he remembered how that face would make him feel. He remembered gaining pleasure from her smile or even her ire, just as he did with Leah.
What he did remember about Natalia was her hair. He’d called her ‘my queen’ because of the way she tended to act as though she were everyone’s better, but in reality, he’d always tied her flaming red tresses to those of the portraits of Elizabeth I.
Not for the first time, he wondered what color Leah’s hair was.
Natalia’s Secret Spinster’s Society (The Spinster’s Society) (A Regency Romance Book) Page 10
