by Robyn DeHart
She flipped back to the page where Roe had made notes about Christopher. It had been her brother who discovered the initial information about the shield, and had been fascinated with the notion of discovering a real artifact. It appeared that no matter how long it took Roe to find the thing, once he did Christopher would get the credit for donating it to the museum. Without another thought, she grabbed the piece of parchment where Roe had scrawled Cabot’s address, then she left. Not twenty minutes later she found herself on the steps of Mr. Cabot’s address. She knocked, and waited.
Cabot himself answered the door, still holding a cane, though it seemed he wasn’t quite relying on it to assist his walking so much as simply carrying the thing.
“Can I help you?” he asked.
Then it dawned on her that he knew her as Grey, not Caroline. She did the only thing she could think of—she looked him straight in the face and lowered her voice. “You might recognize me from Rodale’s. I’ve come for a favor.”
His eyes narrowed, then rounded and then a slow smile spread across his face. “Well, I’ll be damned. Come in, Grey.”
Caroline smiled in return. “Thank you. I promise I won’t take up much of your time.” For the second time that day Caroline had revealed her secret. But by the time she left Cabot’s he had agreed to at least meet with Roe regarding the search for Constantine’s Shield.
…
Roe had previously made plans to follow Mr. Lamb again that evening. Though he hadn’t seen Caroline all day, when she came down to meet him for the carriage, she was dressed as Grey. But now as they sat in the dark confines of the rig, it seemed as though Caroline’s disguise would be unnecessary that evening.
They followed him first to a residence not far from Roe’s. Lamb went inside and was there for several minutes before he returned to his hack.
“Who do you suppose lives here?” Caroline asked.
“I believe this is Lady Winguard’s residence,” Roe said. “It would seem that Mr. Lamb is making the rounds of all of Dover House’s benefactors. He came to see me earlier today.”
She eyed him from across the carriage, her brows rose.
“He asked for additional funds.” He told her what Lamb had said about the orphanage in Liverpool that was closing its doors.
“Perhaps he’s not planning to play tonight,” Caroline said.
And as they followed his hack through the streets of London it seemed as if he might not. They were most definitely not going to Rodale’s. Instead, his hired hack dropped him off in front of a different gaming establishment, this one in a less savory part of town.
Roe sat across from her in the carriage, which had stopped across the street from Mr. Lamb’s hack. Caroline and Roe did their best to peer through the small windows. Another carriage rolled down the road, temporarily blocking their view of Nigel Lamb. When it had cleared, the man stood on the sidewalk. He paid the driver then assisted two other people down from the carriage.
“What is he doing?” Caroline asked.
“I don’t know. He has some companions with him, though it’s hard to tell in this lighting.” The street lighting was poor and the clouded sky didn’t provide enough assistance. The two other figures were considerably smaller than Mr. Lamb, though they wore similar attire—trousers, shirt, suspenders, though they wore no overcoat as he did.
“Young men,” Caroline said. “Boys, even.”
“It would appear so.”
Mr. Lamb spoke to the two boys, and they both bobbed their heads, then he slipped inside the gaming hell, a place called Pollard’s. The two boys disappeared into the darkness against the building.
“Strange, that,” Caroline said. “Why would he bring boys with him and then leave them so carelessly on the street?”
“I suspect we’ll know that in a moment,” Roe said. He pointed to the group of men who were coming out of the gaming hell. They stood on the side of the street, trying to hail hacks. A few walked up the street and one went in the alleyway. The two smaller figures appeared. The taller one began to exchange with the other men, starting some sort of conversation.
“Did you see that?” Roe asked.
“What?”
“Watch the smaller one.”
She did as he bade and saw the smaller boy get close enough to slip his hand into one man’s coat pocket. He withdrew something, then went onto the other man, all the while the taller boy regaled the fellows with some tale that had them laughing uproariously.
“They’re stealing,” Caroline whispered. “Do you suppose Mr. Lamb brought them here to do that very thing?”
“Yes,” Roe said.
A hack stopped and picked up the remaining men on the street leaving the boys alone.
The taller one stepped forwards toward the road to look down a ways and the light caught his face.
Caroline gasped. She knew those big green eyes. “Those are not boys. That’s Gretchen and Fiona. He has brought those poor girls out here to steal from those men. What if they’re caught? What if someone tries to hurt them?” She put her hand on the door to leave the carriage.
He stilled her from moving. “Might I remind you they are not the only ones dressed as a boy tonight. You are safer in here and we shall stay right here until they leave. If anything untoward happens, I shall get out and rescue them,” Roe said.
He might claim he wasn’t a hero, but he was certainly acting in such a fashion.
“Thank you.” She watched the girls, her heart pounding for them. “That man is a monster.”
“Yes, it does appear that Mr. Lamb is a very naughty boy. On many levels. I should think we’ll need to discover some proof before we can do anything about these injustices,” Roe said.
“And how do you suggest we do that?”
“I believe our first step is calling a meeting with the rest of the board members. Rest assured, we’ll catch him and make certain that he isn’t in a position again to use children for his personal gain.”
Caroline’s heart fluttered. Damnation if she wasn’t falling in love with Roe—and this time she wasn’t a foolish young girl.
Chapter Twelve
They rode in silence back to Roe’s townhome and Caroline made a decision. It was time to seduce Monroe Grisham. She’d wanted him for years and keeping her distance wasn’t appeasing her desire. Perhaps the only way to rid him from her mind—and heart—was to make love to him. Once she’d had him, the illusions about him would certainly be shattered and she could go back to her regular self, the Caroline who had plans for her family’s townhome, a plan that would take her out of Roe’s life for good.
But before any of that could happen, she needed to seduce him. She bid him goodnight and went up to her bedchamber. She had to get her plan in line and then go to him.
She stood in front of the mirror and finished unpinning her hair. She raked her fingernails over her scalp. She’d taken so many deep breaths, she was surprised she hadn’t floated to the ceiling. She knew what went on between a man and a woman in the bed. She was not ignorant of the facts. She’d read a book on the subject once. One couldn’t read only mathematical texts.
She tucked and smoothed her hair back into a presentable nature, and didn’t bother changing her clothing since he’d made comments earlier about how the trousers molded to her legs and bottom. He seemed fascinated with the length of her legs. Tonight she could show him precisely how long they were.
“You can do this,” she said to her reflection. The look in her eyes wasn’t one of confidence, but rather uncertainty. She closed her eyes, took a few deep breaths, and turned away.
There on her bed lay an envelope. Curious, she didn’t usually receive anything in the post. She opened it and withdrew the letter inside. It was from Mr. Murdock. The letter went on to say that he was sorry he’d caused her any inconvenience, he had located another place to live, and wouldn’t need her townhome after all. There was also a signed document officially releasing her from the lease agreement. She held the letter to her chest
and nearly squealed with delight. At least that was one battle she had won. The victory gave her renewed courage to step into the corridor that led to Roe’s bedchamber. The hall was quiet as she made her way to his bedchamber.
She raised her hand to knock, then paused. What would happen if he refused her? Walked away from her? Nothing. Her feelings would be bruised, her pride wounded, but she would not die. She would persevere, just as she had the first time he turned her away.
Knowing that calmed her nerves enough to knock on the door. It took a few moments before she heard his footsteps approaching. He pulled open the door and her breath caught. Standing there with no jacket and his shirt undone nearly to his waist, Roe looked so handsome, so roguishly masculine that she nearly forgot why she’d come to his room. Crisp, dark hair sprinkled across his chest. Her mouth went dry and her palms itched to touch him.
“What’s the matter?” he asked gruffly.
“Nothing is the matter, I only wanted to, that is, I thought we might talk for a while.”
“Have you more thoughts about Mr. Lamb?” he asked, still standing in the doorway.
“Well, no, not exactly, though I most assuredly think he is the vilest of men. Making those poor girls do such things. It’s unforgivable.”
His eyes narrowed. “Indeed. But we discussed that in the carriage. Caroline, what do you want?”
“Oh for Heaven’s sake, Roe, let me in.” She pushed her hand against his chest, moving him out of the way. “I want to speak with you. Certainly you can spare a few moments to entertain me.”
Caroline was surprised she got all those words out. And coherently. The warm, hard, and sinewy expanse of his chest had nearly rendered her speechless. This wasn’t going to be as easy as she’d hoped. She spied a decanter with amber-colored liquid across the room. “Might we have a drink?” Perhaps that would ease her nerves some.
“I was not aware you’d started imbibing.” His tone was casual, perhaps a little amused, which boded well for her. He moved to the dresser and poured them each a drink.
She stood silently while she waited for him to bring her the glass. “I thought I deserved a little celebratory drink.”
“What are you celebrating?” He handed her the glass, and she brought it to her lips.
He watched every move she made so she did her best to look as sophisticated as possible. She took a large swallow, and then almost choked as the liquid burned down her throat. Her eyes burned and watered, and she coughed twice.
He smacked her on the back with a chuckle. “Slow down. You’re supposed to sip the brandy, enjoy the smooth flavor as it warms your throat.”
“Right,” she said through the burn. “I received a letter from Mr. Murdock. He’s found another residence and has released me from our previous agreement.”
“That is worth celebrating.”
She took another hearty sip of the drink, glanced around his bedchamber.
“Are you nervous about something?” he asked.
“Yes.” Her voice came out in a whisper.
“You need not disguise yourself again to play Mr. Lamb,” he said, but he continued, not waiting for her to respond. “It’s understandable you’d be concerned about seeing him again. We will find another way to prove he’s stealing from Dover House.”
“It’s not that. No, I really came here to talk to you about something else.”
“And what would that be?”
She took another drink of the brandy, but this time did as he’d suggested and sipped slowly. It went down much smoother. She leveled her gaze on him, tried to focus on his eyes and not allow herself to stare at his chest. “I believe we should have an affair.”
It was Roe’s turn to choke on the brandy. He wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his shirt. “Have you gone mad?”
Perhaps she should have timed that better and waited until he wasn’t taking a drink. Or at the very least she could have waited until he’d actually swallowed it.
“Of course I’m not mad.” She fidgeted. “I’ve considered this thoroughly, and I think it is a good idea. It could just be one night if you prefer. It need not change anything between us.”
“You’ve certainly figured it all out, then.” He tipped up his glass and downed his drink. His eyes closed as he swallowed, then he quietly walked back to the decanter and poured himself another drink.
“I am fairly certain I know what you’re thinking,” she said. “You are no doubt concerned about me getting hurt, but I can assure you that won’t happen. I am not interested in a marriage proposal.” Especially after the one she’d received earlier that day. She knew she should look at him to see how he was taking her argument, but she was afraid to see his expression so she kept talking. “I desire to have a passionate affair. With you.”
He said nothing so she continued. “I believe that it is the very least you could do considering the fact I will never marry. It would be an act of kindness on your part. Generosity, if you will.” That was a terrible argument, even she knew that. She was surprised he hadn’t started laughing.
She ventured a glance at him. He leaned against the wall, glass in hand. His eyes watched her quizzically, but still he said nothing. “Could you say something? Anything? Your silence is causing me great distress at the moment, and I would greatly appreciate you alleviating my suspense.”
“You’re quite serious.”
“Of course I am.” She frowned. “I would not jest about such a thing.”
He downed his drink then set the glass aside. “Caroline,” he said, shaking his head. He walked the length of the room a few times.
“Are you considering my offer?” she asked hopefully.
He eyed her for a moment and she expected him to say yes and then he uttered, “No.” He motioned between them. “We cannot have an affair.”
He didn’t sound completely certain. Perhaps she could still persuade him. Still, she walked over to him and put her palm on his bare chest. “Roe, give me one good reason why we shouldn’t.” He could say it now and she’d have to accept it because she’d asked.
His eyes followed her hand as it moved up his torso. “You are an innocent.”
“That could be a moot point tomorrow.” She tilted her head to look up at his face.
He stepped away from her touch. “We are not married, nor do we intend to marry.”
“Are you trying to suggest that you’ve never participated in such an activity since you haven’t been married before? Or that only married people do such things? Roe, I might be an innocent, but I’m not a fool.”
“No, you know that is not what I’m saying.” His eyes narrowed slightly.
“I’d wager that some married people don’t like each other enough to enjoy one another in the marriage bed.” She could have sworn she saw him grin a bit—she was getting closer. “I’ve known plenty of married couples who don’t like each other at all, but we like each other. Don’t you enjoy my company, Roe?”
He met her gaze and didn’t look away. “You know that is not the point.”
“Then you don’t want me? You don’t desire me in that way?” It was a risk asking him that because if he didn’t and told her so, it would hurt. But then she’d know, one way or another, she’d know and perhaps that alone would make her forget about wanting Roe.
“That is not the point either.”
That was most assuredly not a denial, which meant he did desire her. He wanted her! Roe Grisham wanted her. “It would seem it is quite the point. If you cannot say you do not desire me, then there is no argument you can make for my proposition.”
“Is that what you think?”
She took a step closer to him. “It most certainly is. Admit it, Roe.” She ran a finger down the trail of hair at the center of his chest, all the way to the top of his trousers. Tonight he would be her lover. The thought sent lust surging through her body. She had worn the trousers in here thinking they would tantalize him, yet now she regretted not donning a dress since her breasts were bo
und beneath a strip of linen and they strained to be free, to be touched.
“Admit that you want me,” she said.
He didn’t answer. Instead, he clutched her to him and slanted his mouth across hers in a passionate kiss. His tongue swept through her mouth. She buried her hands in his hair and pressed her breasts against his chest.
He released a low moan—almost a growl—and his hands gripped her buttocks as he pulled her to him. He did like the trousers. She would have smiled, but she was kissing him back for all that she was worth.
“You have no idea how much I want you,” he said, his voice low and deep. “But I don’t want to hurt you.”
His words sent shivers across her skin.
“Tonight only, Roe,” she said. “I promise you won’t hurt me. I want one night.”
He pulled her to him again and kissed her fiercely. She separated his shirt the rest of the way, then ran her hands across the warm, hardness of his chest.
“You are so very handsome,” she said. “Beautiful, really.”
“Men are not beautiful,” he said all the while tracing kisses down her throat.
“That’s not true. You are. And obviously Adonis was and probably Achilles and Eros—”
“Caroline, stop talking.” He kissed her to occupy her mouth and she forgot she even knew how to speak.
She continued running her hands across his chest.
His mouth created scandalous sensations throughout her body. She felt bold and brazen and wonderful. He made her feel that way. So she tossed all propriety and caution aside and did exactly what she wanted. She took his hand and led them over to the bed. With deft hands, she removed his shirt, tugging it out of the back of his trousers and tossing it to the chair in the corner.
She leaned in and kissed his chest, lightly at first, and then more boldly, opening her mouth and nibbling at him. His breathing stopped. She moved slightly, kissing her way across his torso. He closed his eyes, and his mouth fell open, though he made no sound.
She ran her hand down his chest to the thin line of hair that disappeared into his trousers, but Roe grabbed her hand and stopped her from further exploring.
