His Jilted Bride (Historical Regency Romance)

by Rose Gordon

  “I know.” Henry's voice was softer than before. “But I did for the same reason you agreed to help with this one.”

  “Help, not solve myself,” Elijah reminded him with a faint smile. He drummed his fingers on his knees. “I'm assuming this has to do with a church.”

  “What has to do with a church?”

  Elijah gestured to the note on the table in front of him. “The chap who wrote this mentions praying, and by his other word choices, such as 'there', it makes me think he's talking about going somewhere.”

  “And the most logical place to go and pray is a church,” Henry finished for him. He grinned. “See, I'm helping.”

  Elijah shook his head. Never mind that not two seconds ago Elijah had been the one to mention the church.

  Henry leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees. “Do you think he means the next exchange will take place at a church?”

  Elijah pursed his lips. “I suppose it's possible, but that isn't very helpful.”

  “The location of where the exchange is to take place isn't very helpful,” Henry said in a tone dripping with sarcasm.

  “Not if you don't know the town, you coxcomb. There are dozens of churches that line the coast. It could be any one of them.”

  Henry nodded slowly. “Perhaps since he doesn't give us a new city, we could assume he's still speaking of Dover?”

  “I don't think so. Surely they wouldn't plan another—” He stopped abruptly. His last encounter with the men wasn't at the party in Dover, but in Brighton. Only, they hadn't had any clue leading them to Brighton. Elijah had just happened to overhear someone talking about the Jezebel, and recognized that as the name of the boat. “All right, say he's speaking of Dover.”

  “He's speaking of Dover.”

  Elijah shot him a pointed look.

  Henry threw his hands in the air. “You're the one who said 'say he's speaking of Dover'. I was just following your command. I wouldn't want you to think I'm not as dedicated to solving this as you are.”

  Instead of strangling the insolence right out of Henry as he was tempted to do, he turned back to the note. “It can't be Dover. There are at least two churches in a city that large. Were there one that was widely known, his clue would have been enough. But since there isn't one that is more well known than the other, nor a clue where to find said church, then I don't think he's speaking of Dover.”

  “What about a church around here? I'm sure there's a church in Bath or even Dorset.”

  “I don't think so. We're not on the right side of the country. All of the girls have been sent across the Channel to the continent to be transported. It's the fastest way out of the country and to the continent.”

  “But they have to gather the girls first,” Henry said simply. “If they'd have relied on taking girls from only the coastal villages, they'd have been caught before now.”

  “You have a point. This could be a gathering place, not necessarily where they're loading them on the boat.” He frowned. “But that could be anywhere. Just because he sent the missive to us here, doesn't mean it's a church near here. He just knows we're staying here.”

  “All right so what's the first church you think of when you hear someone say they're going to church?”

  “St. Gregory's in London,” Elijah said automatically. “But there's not a grasshopper's chance in Mr. Henry Hirsute's cage that they'd be foolish enough to meet there.”

  “No, they wouldn't.”

  Silence filled the room. Over the past eight years, they'd help return stolen goods, shut down illegal import and sale of whiskey, and even tracked down dangerous criminals. At first, they did it to stay on this side of the Tower of London. Then after a while, it became fun. There was a sense of danger and intrigue. Then of course came the thrill of apprehending the criminal. They'd been able to travel the world. Asia, Europe, Africa, even the Americas hadn't been off limits for someone with connections such as theirs. But after their last stint in France which almost got Henry killed and shut down a major whiskey smuggling operation, Mr. Robinson had said they'd served long enough and were free to leave if they wished it. Oh, how Elijah wished it. He'd always wanted to marry Amelia and each time his directives took him back to England his first priority was to go see her.

  He'd had mixed feelings about her still being unmarried. In a way, he was glad because it gave him hope that one day she'd be his wife. At the same time, he wished for her the happiness that being married would provide, but that he couldn't offer her. He was under the direction of the Crown and could be made to leave whenever they were ready to send him away or for whatever mission they needed complete. He was theirs to command about and having a wife who he couldn't be there to protect was unthinkable.

  Mr. Robinson releasing them, however, changed everything. He'd planned to court her this Season. Try to win back the feelings she'd once had for him. But when Mr. Robinson approached them with the task of finding the two gentlemen who were leading up a private sex slave operation, Henry couldn't be stopped. And neither could Elijah. Just as Henry had boarded that steam packet from Dublin that cold night, Elijah couldn't fathom letting Henry do this alone. They were brothers. Twins. They worked better together, and after extracting a promise from Henry that this would be the last time, they went to see Mr. Robinson for the details.

  It should be simple enough. Two gentlemen were taking young girls from England and transporting them to the conti— Elijah felt the muscles in his face fall. Two gentlemen. “He's not talking about a literal church.”

  “Pardon?”

  “When Mr. Robinson came to us about taking this mission, he said gentlemen, not just men.”

  Henry frowned. “That could be any lord, his brother, son or cousin.”

  “Specifically, if he's a vicar or a bishop.”

  “Or the archbishop,” Henry added.

  “That's not possible.”

  Henry crossed his arms. “He might be a Man of God, but that doesn't mean he isn't capable of being a criminal.”

  “I know that. Remember Lochlan Campbell who was poisoning members of his own kirk with the communion wine?” Elijah shook off the thought. “What I meant was that the archbishop couldn't have been in Brighton that night because he married me and Amelia the next night at Templemore's estate.”

  “He could have ridden there overnight.”

  “Would you ride your horse that far at night?”

  “I might if I was on the run,” Henry argued. “Besides, nobody said he rode there on his own horse. He could have taken a carriage.”

  “But he wouldn't have done that. Not if he wanted to help release his friend.”

  Henry crossed his arms. “Nobody said your hostage had an accomplice to help him escape.”

  “They didn't have to. The bloody constable was shot in the head and his keys were stuck in the cell's lock.”

  “Didn't you read the report? There was also a trail of blood from the fellow's cell to the chair the constable was found in. The constable very well could have been close enough to the cell for the criminal to have reached through the bars, grabbed his gun, shot him, then taken his keys and unlocked his own cell.”

  “But then why was he in a chair?”

  “To make it look like someone else had been there to help,” Henry said with a shrug.

  “But why?”

  “I don't know, so we'd look for who murdered the constable?”

  Elijah shook his head. Sometimes Henry's logic was just too much. “I see what you're suggesting, but why would that benefit him if we're searching for them both already?”

  “Because we have to actually catch them in the act of transporting those girls in order to try them. If there's reasonable proof of murder, however, that's all that's needed to send them to the gallows.”

  “So you think he framed his friend?” Elijah said flatly.

  Henry nodded. “He was probably unhappy that his partner had abandoned him.”

  “Well, that still doesn't tell us
anything useful to discovering his identity.”

  “You could have had one of their identities had you not beaten him so badly.”

  Scowling, Elijah said, “He left me no choice. When a masked man comes at you firing his gun, instinct replaces logic and asking his name and making his acquaintance is the last thing that seems to matter.”

  “Yes, but you didn't have to leave him bloody, swollen, and unrecognizable,” Henry teased.

  “And how would I have known who he was by looking at him? It wasn't until five minutes ago when I realized he was likely to be a gentleman that I thought there might be a chance that I've met him before. Prior to that, he was just another nameless criminal who needed to find the justice he deserved.”

  “Very well. What shall we do now?”

  “I don't care what you plan to do—” Elijah took to his feet, the sun was sinking lower in the sky— “I plan to do exactly what you told me to do when you barged in, I plan to go find my wife.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Amelia awoke to the sound of a creaking door. Slowly she sat up, then frowned. Where was Elijah? Gripping one of the bed posts, Amelia stood and walked to the bedchamber door. She'd left it slightly ajar so she could hear him when he came in, but she'd still wanted to block out the sunshine that now flooded the living room because of Mr. Henry Hirsute's new spot under the open window.

  She opened the door a bit more and poked her head out. “Philip?”

  Her brother who'd been holding a piece of parchment abruptly put it down and smiled at her. “Amelia, it's good to see you.” He lifted one of his eyebrows. Last time she'd seen him his face had still been bruised and cut, but it looked almost back to normal now. “Won't you come out here and greet your brother properly.”

  Amelia flushed. She'd taken off her morning gown and stockings and had taken a nap in only her shift. “I'd rather not. But next time, I will.”

  “Ah, the blushing bride,” he said, fisting his hands at his sides. “Say, is your husband in there with you?”

  “No, he's right here,” Elijah said, swinging open the front door.

  “Mr. Banks, so nice to see you here.”

  “Is it?”

  “Of course. You are my sister's husband, after all.”

  Elijah grunted. “Is there a reason you're here?”

  Philip licked his lips. “Actually there is. I've come to see that Amelia's wardrobe was delivered.”

  “It wasn't.” Elijah crossed his arms and cocked his head to the side. “I find it a little strange that you'd come all the way here to see after a lady's wardrobe.”

  “Yes, well, she is my sister.”

  The two men exchanged looks. “Why are you really here, Philip?” Elijah's voice was as hard as his face appeared.

  “I need a favor.”

  “From Amelia?” Elijah asked.

  Philip nodded.

  “No.”

  “Elijah,” she hissed. It wasn't that she had any great desire to do a favor for her brother, but she didn't like him speaking for her. “Philip, my answer is no.”

  “Why not?” Philip demanded of her, ignoring Elijah's presence altogether.

  Amelia turned her head down a little, lifted her eyebrows, gritted her teeth and then shook her head, as if to communicate to him the disaster that had happened the last time she did a favor for him.

  “Oh, it wasn't so bad,” Philip goaded. He gave his head a small nod in Elijah's direction. “It seems it worked out quite nicely.”

  Amelia didn't dare chance a look at Elijah. No matter. He probably resembled a statue with a clamped jaw and cold, unreadable eyes. “The answer is no.”

  “Amel—”

  “She said no,” Elijah said in an icy tone.

  Philip pressed his lips together, color growing in his cheeks. “Very well, then.” Without another word, he stalked out of the cabin.

  “Did you and my brother have a quarrel,” Amelia asked.

  Elijah snapped his head around. “Not a genuine quarrel, more of a disagreement.”

  “About?”

  “You.”

  Amelia sucked in a sharp breath. “Me?”

  He nodded once. “I...er...” He twisted his lips and raked his hand through his hair. “I can't explain it.”

  She opened the door to the bedchamber, heedless to her state of undress. “Sure you can,” she said softly. What could Elijah and Philip possibly have disagreed about concerning her?

  “No. I probably shouldn't.” His voice was thick.

  “Shouldn't? So then you can, you just don't want to.”

  “You are correct.”

  She crossed her arms. “Why not?”

  Elijah swallowed visibly, an action she hadn't seen from him in a long time. “Because he didn't want me to marry you.”

  ***

  Elijah realized his mistake as soon as he'd said it. But he just didn't care. Seeing her thus: in nothing but her transparent chemise with her arms folded under her full breasts in a way that pushed them up so far they half spilled over the lacy top of her garment sent all the blood that should be in his head straight to his groin, his pretense of being a marble statue gone. He wasn't one and he was no good at portraying one, besides. Nor did he want to be one with her. He might not want to let on to how vulnerable he was to her, but erecting a shield only made things worse.

  “You wanted to marry me?”

  Elijah nodded. I didn't want you to marry Lord Friar. The words resounded over and over in his head, but he couldn't force himself to say them, even if they would keep her inquiries quiet. Instead, he took a step toward her, then a second, and a third.

  “Why?”

  Because I didn't want you to marry Lord Friar. The voice inside his head yelled louder for him to say those words, to staunch her questions and perhaps spare his own pride and feelings. “So I could do this.”

  Her breath hitched, and he would have smiled at her if he hadn't just pressed his lips against hers.

  She leaned her head back. “Wh-what are you doing?”

  “Kissing you,” he murmured, taking her lips in another kiss.

  To his surprise and great relief, she didn't protest and kissed him back. He lifted his hands to cup her face, savoring the way her soft lips moved beneath his. Risking being rejected by her once again, he parted his lips a fraction and drew her bottom lip in between his. She gasped his name and he murmured hers, too lost in her lips to want to stop kissing her.

  Suddenly her hands were up on his shoulders, but she wasn't pushing him away; rather she was clutching him tightly to her. He gently raked her lip with his teeth, then soothed it with his tongue, her grip tightening on his shoulders and her lips parting more. Slowly, so not to startle her, he pushed his tongue into her mouth. She tasted sweet, like fruit and cream. He swept across her mouth, exploring her cheeks, tongue and even her teeth. He brushed his thumb against her cheek, silent encouragement for her to do the same.

  As if she were unsure, she slowly slid her tongue into his mouth to tangle with his for a moment. His mouth left hers, trailing openmouthed kisses all the way to her jawline then behind her ear where he placed a single kiss just behind her earlobe. She sighed and leaned her head to the side, granting him full access to the side of her neck, which he gladly kissed.

  Praying she wouldn't freeze up on him like she had in the past, he moved his hands to the top of her chemise. Taking her left shoulder strap between his thumb and forefinger, he eased it closer to the edge of her shoulder, following its path with his parted lips. He kissed the last inch of skin at her left shoulder, then repeated the action on the right, his excitement growing ever stronger as her skin grew warmer and more flushed with each of his kisses. When he reached the edge, it took all the self control he possessed to resist the urge he had to release both straps and let her chemise fall, revealing her fully to him. But he couldn't do that. Not without permission. Not without knowing this was what she wanted.

  “Amelia,” he rasped.


  “Yes?” Her grey eyes were wide and her pink lips swollen.

  He swallowed past the gravel in his throat. “May I?”

  ***

  May I? Why was it that all of the important questions were so short, and yet would change their entire lives together? She searched his blue eyes. They were darker than usual, hooded even; and most certainly intent. His face looked hard, but not in the same impassive way he'd looked all of those times when he'd approached her before. This time his jaw was clamped and that elusive vein on his forehead that only came out in intense moments of emotion was protruding a bit. He looked uncertain and vulnerable and most importantly: interested.

  The idea that he could be interested in her thrilled her and sent a wave of excitement flooding over her. Followed by a wave of uncertainty. She was nearly certain she was carrying another man's child. Of course she could tell him all of the sordid details afterwards, but would he forgive her? Would he be angry with her when he went to take her innocence only to find she wasn't chaste? No. She couldn't let him find out that way he deserved to know now. She closed her eyes to keep in the stinging tears that seemed to come more frequently than the post.

  “Elijah, I must tell— Oooh.” She snapped her eyes open to make sure she wasn't dreaming that Elijah had grown too impatient waiting for her decision and decided to offer her more encouragement, as if just feeling his warm mouth on the crest of her barely covered breast hadn't been enough.

  “Just yes or no,” Elijah murmured against her breast. Not taking his mouth from her swollen breast, he sank to his knees, then closed his mouth around the hardened peak and gently nipped it with his teeth.

  A strange feeling shot through her. Then another when his tongue passed over where his teeth had just been. He pulled away and looked up at her. She'd never seen genuine desire in his eyes before, but recognized it immediately. Keeping his gaze locked with hers, he carefully slid down the other side of her chemise, the soft fabric like a gentle caress over her swollen breast and against her hardened nipple. With a swallow loud enough to wake even the heaviest sleeper, he kept his eyes trained on hers and moved his mouth next to her now exposed breast.