“Where’s your maid?” He asked huskily as he leaned against the door frame and looked his fill at the naked beauty in the tub.
“I sent her away. I told her I would call for her when I need her.”
He arched an eyebrow at his copper-haired wife as he shrugged out of his shirt. “Perhaps you will allow me to assist you, darling.”
“Perhaps?” Sophia raised her leg and rested her trim foot and ankle on the edge of the large tub. She gave her husband a sultry, seductive smile.
Now completely naked and fully erect, Lyon stepped into the tub. He sat facing his wife. “Come to me, Sophia.”
She wrapped her legs around his torso.
Lyon’s hands gripped her hips. He lifted her up and lowered her onto his shaft.
“Mmm.” Sophia’s hands rested on his shoulders. She leaned back.
Lyon’s gaze moved to her full breasts and the wet, hard, rosy buds displayed enticingly before him. He lowered his head and suckled her while lifting his hips to move deeper inside her. Sophia’s body was tiny, she was so sensitive. Sitting atop him this way she came apart in his arms quickly, moaning, shuddering and clinging to him desperately. His hands held her to him as lifted himself deeper into her again and again until he brought them both to the culmination of sweet, hot release.
Afterward, he left the tub and brought his wife her wrapper. He helped her into it.
Sophia watched as he walked across their room, still completely naked. She sighed. He was beautiful. Strong, lean, muscled, his sandy hair curling at his nape where it remained damp. He scarcely limped; truly the only time she was reminded of his injury now was when she looked upon his large scar. Even with the mangled scar on his thigh, Sophia thought her husband to be the most beautiful man in the world.
“I have something for you, darling. There has not been an opportunity to give it to you with all of the commotion going on since I returned to Templecombe from London. And I noticed your emerald silk is out for you to wear tonight.”
“Oh? Do you not like the emerald silk?” She raised a brow at him.
“I love the emerald silk, darling, it matches your gorgeous eyes.” He handed a large velvet covered box to her.
Fingers trembling, Sophia took the box and lifted the lid.
Tears welled in her eyes. “Oh Lyon, they’re beautiful. I’ve never owned jewelry as fine as this. I sold my mother’s jewelry so Grandmother and I could come to London.” She slipped the oval emerald ring onto her finger. “It fits perfectly.” She smiled up at him in delight.
Lyon grinned. He took the box from her and set it down. He picked up the necklace. He moved behind Sophia. He fastened the brilliant green tear-drop emerald pendant around her neck. Sophia spun around to hug her naked husband. She kissed him eagerly. “Thank you, Lyon. They are so beautiful. I love them. I shall treasure them always.”
“You are beautiful, Sophia. And I wanted you to have emeralds, for that is what your eyes remind me of. I shall treasure you always, darling.” He smiled down at her. He pushed a lock of coppery hair behind her ear.
His hands moved up and down her back then stopped to rest on her firm bottom.
Sophia allowed her hands to leisurely explore her husband’s naked torso. “I think, husband, that you best get dressed, else I fear we may be late to dinner,” she whispered huskily as her hands splayed across his hard, muscled buttocks.
Lyon untied the sash of her wrapper. “We’ve a few minutes to spare. And we’ll get to dinner when we get to dinner. Could I interest you in a very fast but satisfying bout of lovemaking, my lovely wife?” He pushed her wrapper open and let it slide down her arms. He tugged it down and the silk pooled upon the floor leaving his wife as naked as he was.
“I do believe I am interested, husband.” She grinned up at him.
Lyon stepped into the hallway to await his wife. Apparently, Micah waited for his wife as well.
“Are we late?” Lyon asked him. “I know Chilcompton doesn’t suffer tardiness.”
Micah removed his watch and opened it. “Not yet. We have ten minutes.”
“Umm. Our bathing took longer than normal. I wasn’t sure what time it was,” Lyon remarked.
“The same thing happened to us. I think we’ll make it on time.”
“Good.” Lyon nodded. He looked to his friend and flashed him a broad grin. “I never thought I would like being married, but I honestly like it, Micah. I do.” He nodded and chuckled.
Micah grinned back. “I do as well.” He raised an eyebrow, “Even bathing is enjoyable.”
“I agree. Bathing with one’s wife is most definitely an unforgettable experience.” Lyon tried to suppress his grin and failed. A wicked, devilish laugh preceded his words, “The tubs here at Wychcombe House are unusually large. Roomy, in fact.”
Micah laughed. “They are quite capacious.”
Lyon joined in his laughter.
That is how their wives found them. Laughing and grinning.
The gentlemen were to meet again after the ladies retired. Grace, Libby, Sophia, Rowena, her aunt and Harry and Lyon’s mothers and sisters could not help but notice the guard of three men upstairs.
Lachlan nodded and smiled to the ladies as they greeted him.
“Does anyone know what the gentlemen are planning? Aunt Frances?” Rowena asked. She knew there were scarcely any secrets between her aunt and Sir John.
“I do not know, dear. I suspect the guard has been increased because retaliation can be expected since little Alice was rescued,” Frances provided. She did not offer any more information. Frances stopped before her bedchamber door. “Good night, all. Rowena, dear, you must send for me if you need me for any reason during the night.”
“Thank you, good night, Aunt Frances.” Rowena paused to kiss her aunt’s cheek.
The ladies parted at their respective bedchamber doors.
“Did you bathe with your wife, Lyon, you smell like lilacs,” Trevan asked as he came to stand between him and Micah in the library.
Micah grinned broadly at Lyon. He removed his watch and noted the time as he tried to keep from laughing.
“Actually, Trevan, I’m roses, he’s lilacs.” Lyon pointed at Micah. “I did bathe with my wife. He bathed with his. The tubs are exceptionally large here at Wychcombe House. I guess perhaps Micah and Libby used more soap than Sophia and I did, which would explain why the scent of lilacs is stronger.”
Micah burst into laughter as he replaced his watch.
Trevan grinned. “No wonder the both of you smell so pretty lately. I’ll try not to get you mixed up anymore. Lilacs.” He pointed to Micah. “Roses.” His finger aimed in Lyon’s direction.
Grinning and chuckling, they both nodded.
Harry approached them.
Trevan sniffed near Harry. He rolled his eyes. “Lavender.” With a nod of his head, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief, he walked off laughing.
“You too, Harry?” Lyon grinned at him.
“Me too, what?” Harry narrowed his eyes.
Micah leaned close to him and sniffed. “He did. Lavender.” Micah pointed at himself, “Lilacs.”
“Roses.” Lyon lifted his brow.
“Nice tubs here at Wychcombe House, eh, Harry?” Micah laughed and clapped Harry on the back.
“Apparently, they’re very popular.” Harry grinned wolfishly. He extended his hand toward the large library table, “Gentlemen, let’s begin.”
It was quarter past eleven when their meeting neared its conclusion.
Harry once again ran through the evening’s assignments. “Newt, Elveston and Cleve, off to the Star. Pendarves, Carlyon and ten of Trevan’s men are already waiting for you.”
“Gabriel, August, Arthur and your men to Madame Rosier’s.”
“Wyldhurst, Trevan, Owen and I will join Sir John and the King’s officers at the home of Lord Crowhurst. Mrs. Lenore Bell, also known as the Society Scandal sheet author, Mrs. Mayfair, will be picked up at dawn by the King’s men when we ar
e certain her three gigolo henchmen will be in their quarters. You’ll remember we learned of Mrs. Bell from the letter I received from Matthias yesterday. When Sinclair returned home to fetch his daughter and found his daughter Rachel’s governess with Mrs. Bell’s chief henchman, Frederick Naughton, he was able to find out some very useful information. In addition to Mrs. Bell’s skills at gathering gossip, she paid her three handsome associates and bedmates to glean information from female servants in ours and others’ homes. Not only has she been helping the Knights of the Brown Order, but she has committed treason by helping nefarious others blackmail prominent members of the government. Her home is already being watched by the King’s men and police. They want her.”
Harry continued, “Be careful. With any luck, we will take out the Knights of the Brown Order tonight. If things do not go as planned, cut your losses and get out immediately.”
“Lyon, Micah, Lachlan, Tristan, Charlie, Julyan and the guard outside will keep an eye on things at Wychcombe House. We are hoping the ladies will remain asleep in their beds and be none the wiser to our actions this night.”
“I doubt that.” Trevan whispered and winked at Lyon. “Mark my words, one of them will notice.”
Libby woke when Micah slid into bed beside her.
“What time is it, Micah? It seems very late,” she yawned.
“It is sweetheart. It’s two.” He and Lyon took the upstairs watch until two. Charlie and Trevan’s brother, Tristan, were on watch until six. Julyan and Lachlan were in charge of the outside watch.
Libby snuggled up against him. Micah tucked her head beneath his chin. He wrapped himself around her. “Go back to sleep, sweetheart.”
“Um hmm.” Libby closed her eyes and began to drift off.
A knock sounded upon their door.
Micah groaned. Libby stirred in his arms.
He rose, pulled on his wrapper and opened the door.
“Rowena, is something wrong?” Micah asked quickly out of concern.
“I don’t know. I woke when I heard someone in the hall and I realized Harry had not yet come to bed. Charlie told me no one is downstairs. Where is Harry, Micah?” Rowena’s worry was evident as she looked at him.
Lyon stepped out of his room. He remained dressed. He gave Micah a nod.
Another door opened. Grace stepped out, holding her wrapper tightly to her. “Where is Owen? Is something wrong? What has happened?”
Rowena’s aunt, Lady Sperring stepped into the hallway, a lacy white cap upon her head.
Micah sighed. He felt Libby at his back.
“What is going on, Micah?”
“Lyon, as you remain dressed will you escort the ladies into the small parlour at the end of the hall. I will change and be there directly. Before Micah could duck back into his chamber, Harry’s mother and sister exited their chambers.
“Rowena, are you well? What is going on here?” Harry’s mother, Jane Bellingham rushed toward them. Lyon’s mother and sister came out next.
Micah backed up, forcing Libby to as well.
“Micah?” Libby looked at him questioningly as he turned to face her.
He kissed his wife quickly. He laid his hands on her shoulders. “Don’t worry, Libby. Everything is as it should be. Let me dress and I’ll explain everything when we are in the parlour, sweetheart.” He reached for his trousers and slid into them. He wriggled into his shirt and coat. He sat on the edge of the bed to pull on his boots. He helped Libby into her wrapper. Hand in hand, they joined the others in the parlour. Charlie and Tristan remained on watch in the hallway.
..
“Crowhurst, this needs to come to an end. Immediately! The Avalon Society must be brought to their knees. The Duke of Penrose has a far reaching arm and Glaston apparently has some influence with the Crown that we were previously unaware of. Penrose, Glaston, Wincanton, Amesbury, Wyldhurst and Fitzlewis are the founding members. They have learned far too much about us, and our order is now in extreme danger. I want them gone. Dead! Tonight! The Avalon Society will flounder without them and be of no threat to any of us then. Do you understand me?” The man in authority’s eyes glowed with anger.
“Y-yes, my Lord. I will take care of it. At once,” Lord Crowhurst lowered his eyes and tried to sound convincing.
“Mr. Davitt?”
“Yes, my Lord?” Percy Davitt gave the man a calm nod.
“I want you to come with me. You told me when I arrived you had information I might be interested in?” The tall gentleman motioned for Davitt to follow him.
“Yes, my Lord. I did. I do have information for you.” Davitt limped out of the room behind the Supreme Grand Knight of the Brown Order.
“Well, father,” the man who called himself Mr. Crow turned to Lord Crowhurst, “whatever will you do?”
“You might be of my loins, Godfrey, but you will not call me father. The devil take it, I have no idea where the Avalon Society is holing up. It’s damn near impossible to find them tonight!” Crowhurst puffed up angrily. He kicked the leg of a nearby table. “We are sunk you and I.”
“Well, father, we thought that might be the case. You are sunk. However, I am not. Since it is mainly your ill-planning and carelessness which has led the King’s men and the Avalon Society to our door so to speak, the Order has decided to ah, get rid of the trail.”
Lord Crowhurst turned slowly. He saw his bastard son holding a pistol. It aimed at his heart. His eyes grew wide. “Here now, son. You wouldn’t kill your sire, would you?” He visibly trembled as he saw the menacing glint in his bastard’s eyes.
Crow squeezed the trigger.
As Crowhurst crumpled to the floor, Mr. Crow said, “Yes, I believe I just did, father.”
Crow stepped over the man’s body and moved aside the picture hanging over the mantle. He opened the safe and withdrew two large stacks of notes and several letters. He carefully put them in a pocket inside his coat.
Crow joined Davitt and the supreme members of the Order outside. “There are no more trails for the King’s men or the Avalon Society to follow where Crowhurst is concerned.” Crow smiled coolly. After taking out the Avalon Society’s chief members tonight, he and Davitt would be surely be lifted into the upper spheres of the Knights of the Grand Order. The Order would remain unaware that he and Davitt planned their strategy for days. Their attack would appear effortless and quite ingenious for what would appear a spur of the moment decision. They were certain their ingenuity would be rewarded with well-paying posts in one of the auxiliary organizations supported by the Order. He and Davitt were weary of scratching out their livings. They both preferred a more permanent and lucrative arrangement.
“Good work, Crow. You are to go with Davitt. I can spare only three Knights. Davitt believes he knows where Glaston and the others are. We cannot send a large crowd into a house in a quiet neighborhood in London. It would draw too much attention. We’ve received quite enough attention already thanks to your sire, Crow. Seventeen dead men in brown coats found along the Salisbury road. Thirty found in various locations in Somerset and Cornwall before that. Nine rotting in gaol in the last two months.” The man shook his graying head ruefully.
Crow looked to Percy Davitt. He smiled as he gave his partner a small nod.
“Wychcombe House. It is a huge, old Elizabethan manse. It’s in an older, quieter part of town. And none pay it any notice for Lord Chilcompton, Wincanton’s grandfather, rarely gets out any more. It was brought to my attention that a large party recently arrived at the house. Let’s go have a look, shall we, Mr. Crow?” Percy Davitt said as he pulled dark gloves onto his hands.
“Certainly, Mr. Davitt. Good work, sir.”
Percy Davitt gave Mr. Crow a chilling, almost diabolical smile. “Thank you, Mr. Crow. Shall we?”
Newt was dressed tonight as an old, opium addicted sea captain, one Captain Josiah Smith. The Captain frequented the Jasmine Star for the last several days. The coarse whiskers glued to Newt’s face itched. He longed to pull them off. T
wo hours and still no sign of Mr. Crow! Where was the blackguard? He allowed the pipe to hang limply in his hand as he lounged back against the cushion. He peered from beneath the brim of his hat. One of the men he knew to be a henchman of Crow’s took the cushion across from him.
“Are you awake, Captain?”
“What? Oh, yes.” Newt felt the distinct change in energy around him. He felt the warning chills. They crept like prickly needles along his shoulders and down his spine. He focused and saw the aura around the man sitting across from him. The energy wavered and melded into dark, shifting shades of gray, black and a putrid green color. The man definitely had ill intentions.
“You said the Plymouth Lady was the name of your ship, Captain?”
“Um, yes, I did, sir.”
“I find that quite odd, Captain. I just learned the Plymouth Lady pulled out yesterday and is not in London harbor presently. Would you care to explain that?” The man produced a pistol from inside his coat and leveled it at Newt.
Newt’s free hand was already in his pocket, clutching his own pistol. He squeezed the trigger. Crow’s henchman fell face down and lifeless upon the cushion.
“No, I do not care to explain. I never explain anything.” Newt said as he jumped to his feet.
The opium den came alive with activity. Three or four lost souls remained immersed in their opium oblivion despite the chaos erupting around them. Three of Crow’s men charged toward Newt from the other side of the room. Pendarves and Carlyon rose from the cushions they lounged upon, their weapons drawn. They were disguised this night as sailors.
Having heard the shot, Elveston entered through the back door. He fired upon one of the men about to jump Newt. Another slumped over, falling face-down upon the floor, a large knife protruding from his back. Cleve Griffith, Lord Templeton, stood behind him near the front entrance.
Lords of Honor Page 32
