by Shirl Anders
“He is gone.”
She was thankful with relief, because she believed that Radford might follow her. However, at the same time she was bereft, confused, and worried. She was anguished for the loss of further lovemaking and she was thoroughly confused, while at the same time she worried that the well informed Lord Benny might discover the mess she’d made of his strict instructions.
“Benny cannot know Radford that well or he would never be so foolish as to think I had any bloody hope of escaping him without being touched.” She could still feel her sex pulsing on her fingertips from the climax that Radford has so urgently and sensually caressed out of her. She had been so stunned, so overwhelmed that she had run through the townhouse naked to flee him.
“Nay, from myself. I fled from myself.” She could feel the liquid of her lusty response to Radford still coating her fingers. It was strange, nearly alien, the bounty of wetness dribbling over her fingertips. In times past with the several gentlemen that she’d had intimate relations with, she had used a cream Madam Vivian had provided to ease the way.
“Radford felt this! He felt how much I-,” Nia sighed with nearly a moan. She traced her pussy lips so tender and full, while pressing to the door more closely as the bottom curving of her buttocks quivered. She was to have affected Radford, staying aloof as only a good whore should manage to do. However, she had the dismaying feeling that she was the one more truly affected in their encounter.
“Benny, I hope you free me on the next rendezvous! Yes, once I have tupped Duke Sutherlin properly this ungodly attraction will mellow. It is only the anticipation. Not unlike craving an éclair, but once you have eaten the bloody thing, you’re full!” She sighed, turning back toward the room as she slowly lifted her fingers from her sex with the evidence to the contrary drying there. “Mind over matter,” she muttered. It was something her Da used to say. “Onto the next adventure!”
Nia straightened her shoulders and stiffened up her wobbly legs, before marching to the bed and nightstand beside it, where the letter of instructions from Benny lay. She would find out what was to happen next, then bathe and sleep, putting the encounter aside.
“Aye.” She nodded firmly, picking up the second page of the letter Benny had given her. Her gaze scanned the words slowly. In truth, she was nearly praying silently for any words that meant a wild tupping could ensue between her and Radford. Yet as she read, her heart sank on that matter, while her incredulousness grew and her sense of adventure became somewhat excited.
“Aye well, it is a bloody good thing I ride as well as I do, Benny dear, for what you are asking here. And, pistols? Lord, Benny darling, you have a vivid imagination!”
Chapter Six
“Come to the whorehouse with me. Take your mind off your unsuccessful inquiries. Besides, Rad, it will be much to your advantage to arrive at your planned marriage market soirée this weekend with a sated cock in your britches.”
Radford stopped brushing his stallion’s flanks momentarily. He and Saxonhurst stood inside the stalls of his London estate after a brisk morning ride. “There has to be a history on Lady Nia O’Shea or she is an imposter. There simply cannot be nothing about her anywhere, Saxon. And since when, my solemn friend, do you visit whorehouses?”
Radford watched Saxonhurst over the steaming flanks of his stallion as Saxon ran a curry brush smoothly down his bay high-stepper. Saxonhurst’s nearly waist-length hair was loose once again this morning. It had been flying all about during their morning race through the park. It had been much too early for any noble ladies or gentlemen to promenade. However, the staff and servants of goodly establishments had been passing through the park on the way to their employ. This included a number of women of varying ages, and Radford had seen numerous of their gazes agog at the masculine display Saxonhurst provided, added with his long flowing brown hair.
“Since today, Radford. An adventure to liven the soul!”
“You miss spying as much as the rest of us.” Radford smirked, then he resumed brushing his stallion.
“I thought that I didn’t for a long time, Rad. But once the shock of losing my hand wore off, I believe that close brush with death has changed me.”
“To whores?” Radford quipped.
Saxonhurst’s deep mahogany colored eyes glanced at him. “A man should be well rounded or at least try. It never seemed to harm you or Brynmore, or Wyndham, for that matter.”
“Men make a guise of it, Saxon. Not much there of true substance.”
“She has gotten to you.” Saxon nodded.
“Aye she has . . . perhaps. Maybe she will be at the soiree, Saxon.”
“Without a doubt, my friend.”
“You should come to the ball. The prediction is that the ladies bodies will be malleable.”
“For you,” Saxon laughed. “Which should be interesting with your inclinations already tangled in one, Lady Nia O’Shea. I will certainly attend the theme ball you have titled ‘Midsummer’s Night Dream.’ The ensuing laughing at your situation and exploits should abound.”
“You are ever the friend, Saxon,” Radford quipped snidely.
“Oh I believe, your grace, that viewing your circumstances will bring merriment tenfold into my life.”
Radford shook his head. “I do not know what to think of you anymore, Saxon, but I must say I am enjoying the improvement.”
“Thank you, Rad, I believe I am also.”
Radford set down his curry brush, and then he walked around his stallion toward Saxon. “I cannot believe that I cannot find any history on her, Saxon. No going to any whorehouse now. Now, I am going to Drummond.”
“If he cannot find out anything about Lady Nia O’Shea, well then, she does not exist.” Saxon proclaimed in agreement with him.
An hour later found them in the grand ballroom of the Duke of Kittridge’s London home. The snapping of fencing swords whipping against each other was a staccato echo in the room. Radford stood beside Saxonhurst as they watched Drummond fencing with an unknown opponent. The fencing masks prevented recognition, yet Radford knew that he, as well as Saxon, would recognize Drummond’s carriage and parrying style anywhere.
Radford knew of no better fencer than Drummond, except for himself. Used to be, his mind played games with him. Used to be many things, before he lost his eye in the Archangels last and most devastating spying mission before the end of the war. Generally speaking, he was able to keep most of his diminished capabilities a secret. The balance and dimension it now took to ride a horse had nearly been overcome, but fencing would forever be beyond him now. He regretted that because it was a taxing and cunning skill that admirably fulfilled his personality.
“I take the hit. Touché!”
Radford returned his focus to the end of the match, not surprised to see that Drummond was the winner. However, he was completely surprised at the feminine voice of Drummond’s opponent issuing forth in defeat. A moment later, the lift of a hand revealed the luxurious auburn tresses of Gabriella, Drummond’s wife, with her feminine lighthearted laughter following.
“I believe, darling, that we have shocked them.”
Radford tried to keep his mouth firmly closed against his astonishment as Saxon chuckled beside him. “Touché, your grace,” Saxon called, offering a mock bow.
Gabriella’s finely arched eyebrows rose as she looked to Drummond for a moment, who was removing his fencing mask, then she looked back to Saxon. “Are you truly, my handsome and ever solemn Saxon?” Gabriella tilted her head, swaying the lush chocolate colored tresses of her hair down the back of her delicate spine. A mischievous glint rose into her violet irises. “And this free flowing mane of hair you are sporting, Saxon, is nearly making me swoon.”
Drummond laughed outright as Saxon bound forward to clasp dearly surprised Gabriella’s gloved fingers, which he lifted to his lips for a gentlemanly kiss. “And seeing britches on a stunningly beautiful duchess...” Saxon wobbled as though truly inebriated, sinking to his knees dramatically, while
still holding Gabriella’s hand, as he ardently exclaimed, “You must marry me or I am doomed!”
Radford watched as Gabriella’s laughter burst out in astonished wonderment as she looked to him, and then to Drummond. “What has happened to Saxonhurst?”
Radford agreed, the transformation was amazing as it was perplexing and yet, wholly welcome.
“We are all evolving, my love,” Drummond replied sublimely, then he looked down to Saxon and smirked. “Let go of her, you Samson rogue.”
Saxon kissed Gabriella’s fingers once more, and then he stood proclaiming, “Hell of a woman, your grace!”
“I know,” Drummond replied, stepping forward and embracing Gabriella to his side. “And what brings you vagabonds here?”
“Is not your masquerade ball this weekend, Radford?” Gabriella asked. “Drummond and I will be sure to attend. The costumes alone will be risqué enough not to miss . . . or wear.” Gabriella tilted her gaze up to Radford more fully. “All of us Raven, Chloe, Wyndham, and Orelan shall be there. I have a costume picked out, however I am not letting even Drummond see it yet.”
Radford watched Drummond hug his wife closer and wink down upon her upturned face with a decidedly lecherous smile. Drummond, the lord mastermind of all seriousness, was winking? They all were truly ‘evolving’ as Drummond had stated, Radford thought, as he formed his reply to Gabriella.
“It is this weekend, Gabriella, and I will wager you ten pounds that I can guess who you are even masked.”
Gabriella laughed. “You have a wager, Radford dear!”
Just then the butler entered the ballroom saying, “Your grace, the baby, young master Avon is awake. You asked to be notified.”
“Oh yes, thank you, Jevers,” Gabriella replied, turning to kiss Drummond on the cheek, before saying, “I will leave you gentlemen to your schemes, and go feed our son, Drummond.”
Moments later found the three men sitting in Drummond’s study as Radford posed his question to Drummond, and Drummond replied.
“Your sources are excellent, Radford. Better than mine in individual instances. I find it extraordinary that they cannot unearth a single speck of history on this woman.” Drummond pursed his lips staring intently out the window. At times like this Radford could envision seeing the mechanisms and calculations of a brilliant mind churning beneath Drummond’s exterior. “What does she look like? Describe her to me,” Drummond asked abruptly.
Radford had expected this. He was not so far off his game as to completely have lost his cunning. “It was an intimate and clandestine meeting. I never saw the lady’s features.” Drummond turned his eagle gaze upon him. “Yes, Drummond, I find that suspect and disturbing.”
“Your conclusions?” Drummond asked.
“We are back in England. The war is over and the Vienna Agreement for peace is long since implemented,” Radford paused. “One would hope calmer times are upon us, yet we would all admit our great sovereign England is not without enemies still.” Radford took a breath, thoughtfully rubbing his shadowed jaw with two fingers. “Unless you conclude otherwise, Drummond, the lady could be a spy. If I were not who I am though, I would certainly think otherwise.”
“It is true, Drummond,” Saxon said. “You have always said that the Russian count, Alexei Tropov, discovered at least some of our Archangels names. He then sold them in part to win his release from his country’s assassination lists after he blundered in Spain and he failed his mission. Then we all knew for certain that he was a Russian spy.”
Saxon looked to Radford. “I remember, Rad, you were playing a rather high undercover game with the United Irishmen Society in Dublin at the time, watching for any further evidence of their possibly going with Napoleon. Drummond pulled you off that right after Alexei left Spain.”
This was exactly why he could not let it drop, Radford thought. He had run all of these possibilities through his mind and some of the connections were too startling. He was a man that had always been ahead of everyone else in the movements and directions in life. Always one step ahead of any game. Except for now. Now he was without footing, not skipping ahead. He did not like it. He did not like it one bit. Yet, what he really desired was for it to all have been just a simple, yet rousingly complex assignation with a flirtatious woman. Judas, could it not simply be thrilling without nefarious inclinations, he lamented to himself silently?
“Yes,” he answered simply, because all of their thoughts were combined. “But to what end really? I am out of the spying game for several years now.”
“Napoleon lives,” Drummond said, gazing at them. “Caged, but living and while he does he is always scheming. Or,” Drummond paused. “Others scheming for him, to use his great propensity to embolden the masses. Although I have word, he is ill.”
“She cannot be overlooked then,” Radford said. “Lady Nia O’Shea must be placed. Given a name to start with.”
“I will, of course, go through my channels to discover what I can,” Drummond said, standing. “But it appears, Radford, the discovery and placing mission is solely upon your shoulders.”
Radford nodded, standing with Saxonhurst following. “I understand,” Radford said.
“I hope this does not interfere with the artifice of your sordid woman chasing, Radford,” Drummond added with a shrewd twinkle in his gray eyes. “I am not certain if I should commend you for your audacity or give you a pocket full of French sheaths.”
Radford allowed his only comment to be a superior smirk in Drummond’s direction.
Chapter Seven
“Yer a long legged cove, ain’t ya there, Red?”
Nia looked down from under the brim of her hat at the barrel-chested man leering up at her with cockeyed smirking. The mare she sat on sensed her unease and shifted nervously beneath her. Nia wondered once again at the sanity of Lord Benny for hiring these two, ner-do-well thieves, to help in her next charade with Radford. But she knew enough from her middle class upbringing in Dublin’s rougher streets not to let her nervousness show.
“And you had just better get to doing your job, bloke, if you want to see the rest of your payment.”
Nia tried a sneer, but she thought it held little effect as the leering Jake just snorted, saying, “I’d pay that noble blighter back the same amount, just to see you in these britches. Ain’t that right, Nat?”
Nia watched Jake look to the other thin-framed ruffian named Nat, who nodded as though an eager puppet to Jake’s commands. Jake’s hefty-lined face turned back to her with his hand landing on top of her thigh, as he said with his cockney accent thick in lewd suggestion, “I bet yer a feisty ride, Red.”
There was nothing for it, Nia realized, she had to take control quickly. Damn Benny, she would be better off just doing it on her own, she thought, as she lashed her short riding crop down across Jake’s hand. She stung herself in the process as Jake yelled, and she shouted.
“Touch me again and you will get worse, you ass!” The mare beneath her danced sideways and Nia brought her to a halt with the reins. “The likes of you are a penny a dozen, Jake. I will pay someone else for this job if you cannot follow instructions!” Jake glared up at her with his unkempt jawline squared in anger as he cradled his injured hand. “What’s it to be, Jake?” Nia demanded, glaring down at him. “Convince me I should not go and find someone else!”
“We need the money!” Jake exclaimed. But his words entirely betrayed the retribution that she could see lurking in his dark gaze. He gave her one last challenging look, then he turned and marched to his horse saying, “We’ll do what you say for the money.” It was a declaration that she had little faith in, she thought, as she cautiously watched Jake turn to Nat and order, “Mount up!”
Nia nodded reluctantly to them, wishing that she did not feel that she had to follow Benny’s directions so closely. Benny had hired the two ruffian thieves, yet she sorely wanted to just ride away and find a pair of her own blimey thieves. She consoled herself with the fact that she was on a swift mare and i
f any more shenanigans arose she would just gallop away. Besides that, she had been very careful to make sure neither man carried any weapons. And as per Benny’s instructions on the matter, she carried the only pistol tucked into the waistband of her britches.
It was going to be, she, that was to rob Radford in his coach on the way to his country estate and Jake and Nat, were only along for realism and to help her stop the coach. It was intended to be another outrageous flirtation and attempted seduction encounter, where she would enter Radford’s coach, holding him at a sword point for all variety of seductive mischief. A thrilling lark that promised to be sexually titillating for both of them. Except for Jake and Nat, Nia thought worriedly. But the course was set, and she determinedly tried to set aside her worries with the thought that she would finally gaze upon Radford’s face. That alone, she thought, was worth any obstacles she might need to overcome. She would be able to see him, but he would not see her.
Resolutely, Nia adjusted the mask she wore, hiding her upper face, and then she flipped a lock of her loosely flowing red hair over her shoulder, before she exclaimed. “We ride then!”
“Nothing.” Radford growled to himself as he leaned into a particularly deep swaying of his coach. Two days and neither he nor Drummond had learned anything further about Lady Nia O’Shea. It was only the upcoming events at his estate and the time-consuming details involved with those events that had kept him from further seeking Nia out. That and some perverse sense inside him that wanted the lady to once again come to him. She would come to him, he was certain, for whatever it was that she was after. He had to admit that her sexual antics thus far and whatever else might ensue next had him on the edges of anticipation. She was stalking him for amorous purposes. He hoped. He could not remember a time when he was so in the dark about the events that were transpiring. It raised his ire a bit, yet it also heightened his instincts.
