Caroline gasped and Devon nodded. “It was the woman. I’m sure of it. Whoever hit me on the head must have killed her afterward.”
“My God,” Caroline breathed. “Two murders...”
“And I was there for both of them.” Devon shook his head. “I realized everyone in the tavern had seen me go upstairs with her the day before. They’d probably described me to the watch, and even now the charlies might be searching the area for a dark-haired man in a caped driving coat. I decided to wait until it got dark to find a way back to Mayfair. I kept watch from across the street, which was why I was there when your carriage was attacked. I hoped to see something that would give me a clue about the blackmailer. But I saw no one who matched the man the woman had described.”
“What did she say he looked like?” Caroline prompted.
“She said he was tall. She also said he was a nobleman and spoke like a gentleman. I was less convinced about that part of it. Someone clever might be able to fake a gentleman’s accent. And the killer is certainly clever.”
Caroline sat back in her chair. “Thank goodness he didn’t kill you! When I think about the danger you were in, it makes me shudder.”
“No, he didn’t kill me,” Devon said bitterly. “I’m obviously part of his plan. For all I know, he now intends to blackmail me over the woman’s murder. He means to keep bleeding me. But”—he frowned—“what I don’t understand is what he wants with you.”
“Do you think the attack on my carriage has something to do with the blackmailer?”
“I’m certain it does. And that’s what truly frightens me. That’s why I have to get you out of London.”
“No.” Her voice was calm, but her green eyes glittered with determination. “I’m not going to leave you to deal with this alone. I’m your wife. My place is by your side.”
“Caroline, be reasonable!”
She rose and faced him. “If you tie me up and drag me back, I won’t stay there,” she said. “You’ll have to lock me in my room, and even then, I’ll find a way out.”
He gazed at her in amazement. What a brave, plucky woman she was.
She moved nearer, breast heaving. “I... I love you, Devon. Even when I thought you might be my father’s murderer... even then, I was trying to decide if there wasn’t a way I could remain your wife. I still wanted you... cared about you.”
He gazed at her in stunned amazement. Then something inside him crumbled, some barrier he had erected long ago. She loved him. And he loved her in return. As remarkable as it seemed, he had lost his heart to his wife.
He approached her slowly, his eyes focused on her lovely face. “Thank you, Caroline. Thank you for believing in me.”
They stared at each other. The mood between them grew intense, charged with longing and lust. It had been days since he’d touched her, kissed her. And all the while, he had hungered and burned.
He reached out and put his hand under her chin and tilted her head up. He kissed her slowly, savoring her lush lips, her silky, wet mouth, her taste. Grabbing a handful of her crepe dress, he pulled her closer. Her breasts were squashed against his chest. Her delicate body enveloped by his. In the dizzy, intimate heat of holding her, he forgot everything else. There was nothing except this moment. No pleasure more satisfying than skin against skin, flesh against flesh.
She turned her head and gave a little gasp, as if coming up for air. “Perhaps we should...” He nodded. Breathing hard, she added, “I can just imagine sour-faced Walters coming in.”
“I’ll convey you to the bedchamber.” He took her hand and led her into the hallway and up the stairs. When they reached the third floor, she stopped at the door of her own bedchamber. Devon felt a stir of pleasure at her choice. They were supposed to have spent their wedding night in that room, but he had not made her a woman there. Now he would make her his for always.
They went inside. He stood back and let his eyes devour her. Warm, flawless skin, hair the color of fine whiskey, her beguiling eyes and slightly petulant mouth. It heated him to look at her. Reaching out, he tugged at one of the combs holding up her hair. It came free, and her chignon uncoiled into a cascade of rich golden curls.
He brushed his fingers across her lips, so full and plump, delicious. He’d once thought her just a pretty chit. Now he saw her uniqueness. Bold, determined, a bit saucy. With her in his life, he need never fear he would be bored. She surprised him every day.
He leaned over and kissed her neck, tugging at the neckline of her demure crepe gown.
“We’ll never manage this way.” She started to fumble with the hooks in the back.
“Turn around. I’ll do it” He started to unfasten the long row of hooks, then grasped the fabric and ripped downward. She made no sound as he demolished the gown, but he felt her breathing quicken. He knew she was as impatient as he was. The thought kindled his desire even higher.
He dealt with her chemise in the same peremptory fashion, then pulled her against him. Her bottom pressed enticingly against his groin. His fingers cupped her breasts. Warm, soft flesh filled his fingers. Closing his eyes, he kneaded her nipples with his palms.
The sound of her quickened breathing and the feel of her body in his arms seemed to make fire erupt inside him.
He turned her around and stared at her breasts, then gave each of her deep pink nipples a slow, consuming kiss. Feeling her tremble, he held her against him as he made quick work of her drawers and stockings.
When she was fully naked, he ran his hands over her, exploring every enticing curve and swell.
Something inside him gave way. He buried his face in her neck, grabbing handfuls of her soft hair.
She made a strangled sound. Immediately, he released her. “I can’t wait,” he said.
She watched him, eyes soulful, lips parted. Ruthlessly, he tore open the fly of his breeches. He moved toward her and lifted her up so her bare legs straddled him, then carried her to the bed.
She was naked, wet, open to him. He lunged into her, burying himself in her yearning, lustrous warmth. Closing his eyes, he gave way to the urgent need, lifting her hips for deeper penetration.
The feel of her slippery, swollen flesh undid him. He managed a few savage strokes, and then exploded.
“My word, Caroline, I did not mean to do that,” he said as he slipped out of her. He took a deep breath, then gently lifted her all the way onto the bed and lay down beside her.
She sighed a rich, satisfied sigh. “I know you didn’t. But it’s all right. I love the way you are, Devon, so passionate and intense.”
Devon leaned back, feeling the luxurious contentment steal over him. To have a woman like Caroline, someone to banish the darkness of his past, he could not put words to what she had given him.
Instead, he pulled her close, and drank in the perfume of her wild, honey-gold hair.
Later, Devon got up and removed the rest of his clothing, then lay back down with his wife. It felt deliciously decadent to lie abed in the middle of the day, inhaling the musky, warm scent of their coupling. He had done this once or twice with Rose. He had not imagined ever doing it with a wife.
“You would think we were lovers,” he said, “not man and wife.”
“Can’t we be both?”
He opened his eyes, considering her words. Happy marriages were rare, so rare as to be almost oddities. “I never thought it would be like this,” he said.
“I did,” she answered.
She sounded so certain. For all his other faults, Merton Beaumont had done something remarkable in raising this touchingly ingenuous young woman.
As he smoothed his hand over the skin of her shoulder, he could feel himself rising again. Would his hunger ever be sated?
Reluctantly, he forced his lust aside. A murderer stalked him. Until he knew his enemy’s identity, no one in his life was safe.
He sat up. “As much as you, I want to find your father’s murderer.”
She nodded.
He watched her, still ama
zed by her belief in him. “Tell me, why did you decide to trust me? I thought you would suspect me of murdering your father. You knew how I felt about him. And I was there, in the very room where he died.”
“You wouldn’t have killed him like that. I can imagine you challenging him to a duel. I can imagine you losing your temper and attacking him. But I can’t imagine you breaking his neck.” She reached over and touched the bruise on his forehead. “The murderer must have intended to incriminate you from the beginning. If he sent the message asking you to meet with my father—”
“No,” he interrupted, “1 don’t think he sent the first message, the one that came to Darton Park. I think that message really was from your father.”
“What did he say? What was his reason for having you meet him?”
“He said that he had discovered who killed Rose.”
Caroline’s eyes widened. “Do you think my father’s murder could be linked to hers?”
“Not really.” Devon felt the familiar anger and pain rising up inside him. “The fact is, I have always assumed that my father was behind her death.”
“Your father?”
He nodded. “He was horrified by my relationship with Rose, a commoner and an Irishwoman. He threatened to disinherit me. I told him that I didn’t care what he did. A few months later, Rose was killed. Of course, I don’t think he actually strangled her. I assumed he hired some ruffian to perform the deed.”
“My word! How awful!” Caroline stroked his arm. “How terrible it must have been for you to think your father was responsible for such a heinous crime. But perhaps the man who killed Rose really is the same one who killed my father. Perhaps he killed him because Papa found out the truth. He might have feared my father would turn him into the authorities.”
Devon shook his head. “I don’t think a crude hired killer would have the resources to plan your father’s murder and the blackmail plot. I think it’s a coincidence that Beaumont asked me to come to London and then was killed. I was in the city almost a day before I received the message at the club telling me to meet Beaumont at the inn. Once the killer knew I was in London, he had plenty of time to arrange things.”
“But who knew you were London?”
“Many people. All the servants here at the town house. Anyone who saw me at Brooks. I was there nearly the whole day.”
“You think one of the servants could be the killer?”
“Or, in league with the killer. It’s not impossible. One of them might even bear a grudge against your father and have wanted him dead for some reason.”
Caroline sighed. “It’s all so complicated. How will we ever solve this? We could go to Bow Street and ask their help, but frankly, I don’t think they care who killed my father. And if we tell them about the blackmail plot and the attack on my carriage, they might end up suspecting you.”
“I agree,” said Devon. “I think that we are on our own in this matter. But we aren’t without resources. We have something the killer wants. It’s possible we could use it to set a trap for him.”
“A trap? How? What do we have that he wants?”
“I think when your carriage was attacked, the murderer intended to abduct you. Perhaps he meant to hold you for ransom. Or kill you and incriminate me. You escaped him once, but I think he will try again. Of course—” He frowned. “There is some risk. If we use you to draw in the killer, we must make very certain there’s no way he can succeed,”
“What if I went off in the carriage alone? You could follow me.”
“Too dangerous. Too easy for the murderer to escape. He would probably send his hired thugs after you, and we would have to allow them to abduct you and hope they led us to the murderer.” He reached out and stroked her shoulder. “I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to you.”
She smiled at him, and Devon had to struggle to control himself. He looked away, focusing on their dilemma. “What if we held a ball and invited everyone... your father’s business associates, my friends and acquaintances, the members of my club? The guest list for the wedding would serve as a start. Perhaps we could entice the murderer to act, to reveal himself.”
“A ball? Wouldn’t that be rather unseemly, so soon after my father’s death?”
“You don’t think he would approve?” He looked at her with brows raised. “A party in his house, with his daughter as hostess to the ton?”
“I suppose you’re right. His only regret would he that he wasn’t here to gloat.”
“It won’t be a huge gathering. This close to Christmas, many of the fashionable set have already left to celebrate the holidays in the country. But if he’s invited, I believe the murderer will come. And he might act. With so many people in the house, he might think it an opportune time to abduct you. We’ll pretend to be at our ease, to appear as if this whole murder and blackmail business is behind us. But we will really be on our guard, watching everyone. We’ll be together the whole time.” He sat up and leaned over to touch her face. “I won’t let you out of my sight, Caroline. I swear it.”
“When will we plan the party?” she whispered breathlessly.
He could endure no more. “Later,” he answered.
Eleven
“A costume ball?” Caroline frowned. They had retired to the drawing room after dinner to plan the party. Devon was making a list of their guests. “Do you think that’s wise?”
Devon looked up from the quill he was trimming. “While having everyone in costume could make identifying our adversary more challenging, it may also entice him here. The woman at the Blue Parrot said the man who employed her always wore a mask. The murderer obviously feels comfortable in disguise. At ease, he may be more likely to make a mistake.”
A tremor traced its way down Caroline’s spine. They were inviting two hundred people into their home, anticipating that one of them was a murderer. If they lulled the man into making a mistake, might not that mistake end up being a deadly one?
Devon got up from the escritoire and crossed over to the chair where Caroline was seated. “I promise to be at your side every minute, Caroline. I’ll never leave you unprotected.”
She nodded, then sighed as Devon leaned over and began to kiss her neck. They were so caught up in each other. Caroline wondered if the distraction of their passion did not pose a danger. In their happiness, they dare not forget that a monster stalked them.
Devon reached lower, to massage her breasts through the fabric of her gown. “Really, darling,” she murmured. “Someone could come in at any time.”
Regretfully, he pulled away. “You’re right. We must look at the guest list one more time to make certain we haven’t forgotten anyone.” He moved back to the desk. “We’ve invited all the principals in your father’s business, my friends from the clubs, and the choice titled families. In case the murderer is a former servant, I’ve told Walters to put the word about that we’re hiring extra help for the event—footmen, butlers and the like. If the murderer wants to come, he should find entrée one way or another.”
“And once he is here, what do you think he will do?” Caroline asked.
Devon’s eyes narrowed and a brooding look came over his face. “I don’t know. I can’t fathom his mind. Perhaps he will try to blackmail me again or leave a threatening message. At worse, he may attempt to abduct you.” He raised his gaze to hers. “To catch him, we will have to alert some of the servants what we suspect. Who among your father’s household do you trust?”
Caroline frowned in thought. “Jeanette, of course. Pennington, Jeremy, and Bob have shown their willingness to defend me with their lives; I would trust them. Stryker, too.”
“What about Walters, Alice, and the others?”
Caroline shook her head. “I don’t know them well. None of them have been in my family’s employ very long. What about you?”
“If we were at Darton Park, I would have complete confidence in Mr. and Mrs. Butterly and the rest of the staff. Here in London, there is only Ginter.�
�
“And?”
“I would trust him with my life.”
An eerie feeling afflicted Caroline. Could the murderer really be someone dose to them? “Do you really think it could be a servant?” she asked.
“Even if the villain is a nobleman or someone of the merchant class, he may have an accomplice, someone close to us, someone in a position to spy on our activities. That’s why we have to be so careful who we share our plans with. We cannot risk alerting the murderer.”
She sighed. “How hard it will be to be to pretend lightheartedness and gaiety when our goal is to catch a murderer.”
Devon put his arm around her. “I’m sorry, love. I wish that our first party could be a more joyous occasion. But this is important. Our whole future together may depend on catching this fiend.”
Caroline rested her face against her husband’s chest, drawing strength from him.
~ ~ ~
“I hardly think that is much of a disguise,” Devon said archly as Caroline surveyed her appearance in the looking glass of the bedchamber. “I’d recognize you in a heartbeat.”
Caroline glanced down at the mermaid costume she wore. Cloth of gold overlaid by silver netting presented a clever imitation of scales, and she had a gleaming fishtail for a train. “I’ll be wearing a domino,” she reminded him. “And no one in polite society has ever seen my hair like this.”
She patted her extravagant tresses to make certain the jeweled seashell combs were fastened securely. It felt odd to wear her hair arranged in the fanciful waves it fell into naturally, but Jeanette assured her that it looked perfect with the rest of her costume.
Devon moved closer and straightened Caroline’s skimpy bodice, which consisted of fan shaped “shells” strategically placed over her breasts. “Any man with eyes in his head will know you.”
Caroline pushed his hands away. “I thought the costume fairly modest myself. And since no man except you has seen me unclothed, I don’t see why you think they should recognize me.”
Devil's Own Bargain (London Lords) Page 13
