Surrender

by CJ Archer

  It seemed he'd pegged her wrong. She hardly knew him, she certainly didn't like him or trust him and yet she'd not only allowed the kiss but she'd kissed him back. An interesting development.

  She flattened her skirt over her knees, repeating the sweep down her lap more times than necessary. "No, Mr. Redcliff, I don't believe you are sorry."

  "Well, you do have the most kissable lips," he said because he wanted to see what she'd do next. If he pushed her hard enough perhaps she'd still behave as she was supposed to.

  Her hands stilled. "It's a shame," she said.

  "What is?"

  "Your behavior. It's entirely predictable."

  "Predictable?"

  "Yes." She shot him a triumphant look and he silently cursed his defensive tone. "You couldn't force me to leave by being rude so now you are attempting to frighten me with seduction. I've experienced it before and I can assure you, it won't work."

  "What won't work? Frightening you or seducing you?" Experienced it before—what exactly had she experienced? A kiss? Or something more? He bit the inside of his lip to stop himself asking.

  She stood suddenly and her knees banged into his before she moved to the fireplace. Her back to him, she clutched the mantelpiece and stared down into the hearth. "You are a most...disagreeable man."

  He stood too and came up close behind her. Her bent head exposed the wisps of hair curling at the nape of her neck. He could blow them aside and kiss the warm skin there...

  He stepped back and shook his head much too violently. The constant dull ache slammed into his temples, reminding him of what he had to lose if he didn't get Miss Appleby out of his house soon.

  Going by the stoop of her shoulders, the deep rise and fall of her body, their kiss had rattled her composure. But was it enough to force her to leave? He doubted it. In fact, he was quite sure one kiss wasn't enough. Absolutely positive.

  "Come now, Miss Appleby, I admit it wasn't a very gentlemanly thing to do. But to imply that I kissed you because I want to be rid of you upsets my sense of honor. And yes, I do have one."

  She said nothing but her head rose a little so that she was now staring at the base of the framed painting hanging above the mantelpiece. The movement caused her hair to cover her exposed neck.

  He sighed. "I kissed you because I wanted to kiss you. Actually, I wanted to taste you and..." Strawberries. She tasted like sweet early strawberries. "And..." What had he been about to say?

  She spun round. Her features were schooled but he was beginning to think such composure required a great effort. He knew it did him. "Enough of this play-acting, Mr. Redcliff."

  "It's not play-acting."

  "Then kindly appeal to your own gentlemanly code of honor and desist from seducing me. Attempting to seduce me," she corrected. A blush crept up her throat and settled on her cheeks. "It is offensive. Particularly with your aunt and sister in residence."

  "You're right. And I apologize. Again. I wasn't thinking." That part at least was true. Of course he'd known exactly what he was doing when he instigated the kiss but then clear thought had fled as soon as their lips touched.

  Everything from that moment had been driven by raw, primal instinct.

  An instinct he dared not give into.

  "I must go," she said, sweeping past him. "Good day, Mr. Redcliff."

  "Aren't you forgetting something?"

  She halted at the door, frowned. "Yes, of course, the headache tonic. I have given it to Trent. He knows the dosage to administer." She left without even a nod in his direction.

  He stared at the closed door and wondered what he was supposed to do now. He had an aching head, aching groin and a desire to see Miss Appleby lying naked in a field of strawberries.

  Hell.

  Georgiana waited until Redcliff had gone out before taking Trent with her to look through the master's bedroom. The valet had hesitated when she asked him to assist her and she'd had to employ dire tactics to win his acquiescence. It was only after reminding him that opium addiction can lead to death that he finally let her in. Even so, he hung back at the bedroom's closed door with a guilty countenance.

  She didn't want to wait for the war between the valet's conscience and sense of duty to end so she began searching through Redcliff's clean shirts and cravats in the rosewood wardrobe alone. They were as crisp as a winter's morning and didn't have so much as a hint of Redcliff's scent on them. Thankfully. Even a whiff of him might trigger thoughts about what had happened in his study.

  She did not want to think about the kiss. Not now, not ever.

  "He'll have my head if he finds out, miss." Trent chewed his lip and didn't move.

  "He won't find out." The wardrobe yielded no opium so she knelt on the rug and looked under the enormous canopied bed, lifting the skirt of the gold-trimmed blue cover. Nothing there but a few drifts of dust. She let the heavy velvet go and watched it swish against the floor. "And if he does, I will protect you. Please, Trent," she said, getting to her feet, "I can't do this without you."

  He chewed his lip some more then finally nodded.

  "Capital." She eyed the bed. She should check under the mattress but the thought of touching the linen upon which Redcliff had slept alarmed her. Her heart had still not recovered its regular steady beat after their kiss.

  Their foolish, foolish kiss. Good lord, why had she allowed him to do it? Why hadn't she stopped him before he'd even begun?

  The answer to that was simple. Because she had wanted the kiss and couldn't have stopped him any more than she could stop breathing.

  For good or evil, it had happened and now they had to acknowledge it. Fortunately no one had seen. Her reputation was in tact. As long as Redcliff told no one, there would be no consequences.

  But there would be other types of consequences. Things would be different between them now. She would have to be vigilant and not let it affect her work and her judgment. Her priority, as always, was to wean him off the horrid opium.

  She looked at the bed again and huffed out a breath. It was the first hurdle. She would conquer the bed and then everything could return to normal. Her world would right itself if she could only touch the sheets and pillow without inhaling his scent.

  Spices. Exotic ones. That's what he'd smelled like.

  "There's a hidden space behind this drawer," Trent said, pulling out one of the wardrobe drawers through which she'd just searched. "He doesn't know I discovered it when I was looking for a missing cravat." The drawer slid all the way out and he placed it on the rug then reached into the cavity and pulled out a package tied with ribbon. He handed it to Georgiana.

  She opened it and sniffed the dark brown powder. "Opium." She wrapped it up again, careful not to spill any on the thick Oriental rug.

  Trent replaced the drawer. "You've got it so let's leave now. Quickly in case he returns early from the club."

  "He only just left," she said but headed straight for the door. The sooner she was out of Redcliff's bedchamber and away from his personal things the better.

  Outside, she thanked Trent for his help. "I couldn't have done this without you."

  He gave her a sheepish smile and dipped his head. "I did it for Mr. Redcliff, miss."

  "There's only one more task I ask of you," she said. He looked pained so she quickly added, "Don't worry, it's not much. When Mr. Redcliff returns you must make sure he doesn't remove anything from his pockets and hide it away in his room. Then when he changes out of his clothes, check through all of his pockets just to be sure he's not procured any more opium today. I have an inkling that he won't." She tapped the package under her arm. "I think he was relying on this for the next few nights."

  He nodded. "Yes, miss."

  "If you do find something, bring it to me at once. No matter what the time, even if it is the middle of the night."

  "But miss, I couldn't! You are Mr. Redcliff's guest. It wouldn't be proper..." He cleared his throat and reddened to the point where she was worried his head might pop.
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  "Forget impropriety on this occasion, Trent. I do not trust this to a maid. The fewer people involved in our endeavors the better. Understand?"

  He nodded, wide-eyed and unblinking. He was clearly a loyal servant and an honorable man. She must be careful not to ask any more of him than she already had.

  They parted and Georgiana made her way to the stairs to return to her room. She got as far as the landing. Lady Weatherby stopped her. Had she been waiting? Watching?

  "What are you doing here?" the marchioness asked. Her steely gaze settled on the package under Georgiana's arm.

  Georgiana's throat went dry. If Lady Weatherby didn't know the package had come from Redcliff's room she certainly suspected it.

  "I was looking for Mr. Redcliff to give him a dose of his headache tonic," Georgiana said. "But he wasn't there."

  "He's probably at his club. Surely you knew that?"

  "I am still unfamiliar with his ways," Georgiana said coolly. "Thank you for informing me." She bobbed a curtsy and continued up the stairs to her own room where she sank onto the bed. Relief settled her racing pulse and soon she yawned. She should try to nap because she wouldn't get much sleep tonight.

  That's when Redcliff would discover his opium had gone missing.

  Alex strolled alongside Lord Northbridge without hearing a word his friend said. Something about a boxing match at the Fives Court. He didn't care. If it didn't involve Miss Appleby and her lips he wasn't interested. He hadn't been able to stop thinking about her. The silkiness of the skin at her throat, the swell of her breast in his palm. She'd been an unexpected delight, a gem not yet cut and polished.

  "Are you listening to me?" Northbridge said, stopping outside a tailor's shop on the corner of St. James and Jermyn Streets. "Or are you thinking about licking some apple juice?"

  Alex choked on air. "Good lord, North, you've got a way with words." He stalked off and his friend trotted to catch up.

  "I'd rather have my way with women," Northbridge said, falling in with Alex's step. "How is your delicious Miss Applecake?"

  "Sour. I told you that."

  "Yes, but now that you've had a real taste...?"

  "What are you talking about?"

  "Come now, my friend, it's written all over your face."

  "What is?"

  "That something is bothering you. No, disturbing you. Making you lose concentration. I can only assume it's because your plan to seduce the nursemaid is proving challenging."

  "I am not losing concentration."

  Northbridge snorted. "I had to ask you three times whether you think Pratt will beat Colchester to a pulp. And then there's the drinking."

  "Drinking? What drinking?" Alex looked up and down St. James Street then tossed a penny to the crossing sweeper leaning on his broom nearby.

  "You usually limit your consumption. Today I lost count of the number of brandies you threw down."

  North was entirely too observant. Alex needed to be careful or his friend might learn too much. At least it wasn't far to North's townhouse so that Alex could continue on his own way undisturbed with only the rumble of carriages as a backdrop to his reflections. The peace and quiet would be—.

  "Look out!" Northbridge's not inconsiderable weight slammed into Alex, knocking him out of the way of a town coach thundering past, the hooves and wheels only inches from vital body parts.

  Both men rolled out of the way, limbs and coat tails tangled together.

  Alex swore and jumped up, peering after the retreating black coach. "Did anyone see if it bore a coat of arms?"

  A few passersby shook their heads then went on their way without a backward glance. The crossing sweeper fetched Alex's hat and slapped it against his thigh to shake off the dirt. "No, sir," the lad said, handing the hat to Alex. "That is, it had none, sir. All black it was."

  Alex thanked him and tossed him another penny. The lad's eyes widened and he scrambled to Northbridge's side and assisted him to his feet. After a lot of grunting and rubbing of elbows, knees and shoulders, Northbridge accepted his hat from the lad. He glanced down at his filthy breeches and swore.

  "If I find out who was driving that coach I'll kill them with my bare hands," he growled. "Now I have to walk all the way home looking like a gutter rat."

  "Are you all right?" Alex asked him.

  "Of course I'm not! Look at me! I've not a clean patch on breeches or coat. And my boots too!" He swore again. "My reputation will be ruined if I walk around London like this."

  "Your house is only a block away, North. It's unlikely we'll meet anyone that matters between here and there." And because his friend had just saved his life, he clapped him on the back. "Thank you."

  "Don't mention it. Glad I could help. But next time, imbibe less. You obviously can't hold your drink or you'd have seen that coach coming."

  The drink wasn't the problem. It was his rampant thoughts that caused more trouble. Thoughts about kissing Miss Appleby...and more. "That coach was going much too fast."

  "It was trying to hit you, you know," Northbridge said with uncharacteristic seriousness.

  "I know." It had not slowed down, not even afterwards when the driver couldn't have failed to notice he'd almost run down two gentlemen.

  "What have you done to annoy someone so much that he wants to kill you?"

  Alex said nothing. Spying on the Continent had given him a lot of enemies but they all worked for the French. The only Englishman who would want him dead was himself buried six feet under the ground in a Swiss grave.

  Alex should know. He put him there.

  CHAPTER 5

  Northbridge insisted on escorting Alex home. Alex didn't mind until Northbridge insisted on coming inside then proceeded to alert the entire household to their presence by informing Worth, loudly, that they'd had "a brush with death". It didn't take Philly long to appear after that, making an unladylike entrance running down the stairs, her curls bouncing around her face and a pair of pale blue gloves crushed in her hand.

  "Did someone say death?" she said, eyes shining. "Oh, Alex, were you nearly killed? Do tell. Oh hello, North!"

  Northbridge cleared his throat and bowed. "You've grown, Philly."

  "I am sixteen you know. Perhaps you should call me Lady Phillippa now." She giggled. "And I'll call you Lord Northbridge of course."

  Aunt Harry, using a closed black parasol as a walking stick, joined them. "That is entirely appropriate," she agreed.

  "Oh, Aunt," Philly said, bouncing on the toes of her orange half-boots. "Alex nearly died." She clutched Alex's arm and gave it a solid tug. "North—I mean Lord Northbridge was just about to tell us what happened."

  "Died?" Aunt Harry turned on Alex, her expression caught somewhere between anger and fear. "Alexander?"

  "Died is an exaggeration," he said, taking her gloved hand and patting it.

  She pressed her other hand over his and squeezed. Hard. "Then kindly tell us what happened. Precisely."

  Well," Northbridge began, "we were not doing anything at all, just crossing the road and discussing how Pratt would pulverize...er, discussing an upcoming sporting event, when out of nowhere an enormous carriage pulled by six of the biggest, blackest beasts I've ever seen thundered towards us!"

  "Horses," Alex said with a sideways glance at his friend. "They were horses, North, and there were only four of them. I'm also quite certain they weren't black."

  Northbridge sniffed, turned one muddy shoulder to Alex and gave Philly his full attention. "It raced right for us, not slowing down in the least. When I realized the danger, I shouted at Redcliff but your fool of a brother wasn't concentrating so I had to push him out of the way. If I hadn't..." He shook his head. "Well, you get the idea."

  "How brave of you, my lord," Philly said on a breath. "Goodness, Alex, what an adventure you've had. How exciting!"

  Alex rolled his eyes and caught sight of Miss Appleby standing halfway up the staircase doing a remarkably good impression of a doe with her brown eyes opened wide. It
made her look rather childish and innocent, quite at odds to the plain, high-necked dress and tight hairstyle. And her formidable personality. "Someone tried to kill you?" she said, her voice pitched high.

  "It was an accident," he said. "Nothing more sinister than that." Her hand, clutching the balustrade, went white. "Miss Appleby, is it possible you are concerned for me?" He scoffed at his own joke but it came out as a strangled gurgle from the back of his throat.

  "Did the driver stop?" Aunt Harry asked before Miss Appleby could respond.

  Miss Appleby let go of the balustrade and lowered her eyes to descend the stairs. She was a picture of composure once more. Perhaps he'd imagined her concern. Even if he had not, then it was likely to be entirely professional—she would be without a commission if he were to die.

  Alex wiped a drop of sweat from his brow and looked away.

  "No," Northbridge said before Alex could give a vague response to allay his aunt's fears. "He didn't even slow down although he must have seen us."

  "Thank you," Alex muttered.

  "Don't mention it," North muttered back, his gaze on Miss Appleby.

  She joined them in the hall but stood a little apart. It was Philly who took her hand and drew her into their circle. "Aren't you going to introduce your nurse to Lord Northbridge?" she said to Alex.

  North's smile had a wickedness to it that Alex didn't like or trust. He may have seen it a thousand times before but this felt different. Miss Appleby was his nurse. He had a duty to see that North didn't treat her the way he treated most women. "Ah, so you're the apple—." He broke off with a grunt when Alex stepped on his toe. "Miss Appleby I presume." He bowed with his customary flourish.

  Miss Appleby's eyebrows rose in questioning surprise. "You know my name?"

  Alex cleared his throat and quickly introduced them.

  "Did anyone see the driver?" Aunt Harry said when the formalities were complete. "He ought not be allowed to drive."

  "Unfortunately not," Alex said.

  "What an adventure," said Philly. Bounce, bounce, bounce. "Such bravery." This she said to North.