by Tessa Candle
The man turned a page in the book and continued his work.
“You are slow-witted, so let me explain to you what that means. You see, when the authorities know what you have done, I will finally see you locked up. You might even hang for this, Crump. And there will be no hiding behind a good lady’s need to protect her own reputation by concealing your crime. This time, you will pay. And believe me, I will have my pound of flesh.”
Crump suddenly stood up.
Rutherford saw that a figure had entered the room while he was delivering this last tirade. He blinked.
Mr. DeGroen, dressed in black mourning, held up his hands in surrender as he approached the bars. “I hope you will not include me in your wrath, your grace. I am only here to rescue you. But before I let you out, I need you to promise me that you will not attack, Mr. Crump. He was only following orders.”
“I will not attack him.” Rutherford did not like the confused sound in his own voice. What was going on? Was DeGroen somehow tangled up with Delacroix? “But pray, who has given these orders? Surely not you.”
DeGroen chuckled. “Oh no, not me. Can you not guess, your grace? Who is the master of this man?”
“Not Til—not your wife.” The correction was bitter.
“No, not my wife. But yes, Tilly.”
“You are speaking in riddles.” What could he possibly mean? Was Rutherford still unconscious and just having some sort of bizarre nightmare?
Mr. DeGroen walked to retrieve the key from a hook on the wall. “Mr. Crump, will you leave us? I know you were following orders, but I assure you, Miss Ravelsham does not wish Rutherford to remain locked up. I have dispatched a message to her, and I am certain you will be hearing from her soon. You may guard the door until you have word from her, if you wish. The duke and I have much to discuss.”
Chapter 65
Tilly felt quite awful as she rolled up to the warehouse, but at least she had not been sick again. Then she stepped out of her carriage and into the disgusting stink of the local air. She had forgotten how bad it smelled in this area. Tilly lunged back into the carriage and tore down the lemon sachet, clutching it to her nose and mouth. She did not have time to be sick.
She scampered through the gloom to the back entrance, not knowing even what to hope for.
On the one hand, she wished to be proven wrong in her suspicion. She hoped that Rutherford, after all that had happened, had not lost his resolve to be free and succumbed to the deadly siren-call of the drug.
On the other hand, her warehouses were not the only place one could procure it. He could as easily go to an apothecary, though there was an even greater shortage now that she was tightening down on her distribution. Or he could find his way to one of the nasty opium dens that had sprung up around London. And, if he went out seeking the poison, it would be much better that he came here.
At least she would know exactly where he was. Crump would have him in the hidden cell. She rubbed her temple. The situation would require some explaining, but that was nothing. She did not even mind if he was angry with her, so long as he was safe.
She laughed mockingly at herself. “So much for your great commitment to free will, Tilly. You are just like everyone else. You do what is expedient and you find a justification for it later.”
And yet, she did not feel repentant. He was safe, and to the devil with everything else. That is, unless he had gone somewhere else. Her stomach knotted at the thought.
She unlocked the door to the office and released her breath in a gasp of relief when she saw Crump standing watch by the large painting that hid the secret door.
Chapter 66
Rutherford paced the little prison room with a manic energy. “You can stop calling me your grace, DeGroen. We shall speak man to man, if you please.”
“Very well.” DeGroen was seated in the chair previously occupied by Crump, looking at the papers over which Crump had laboured. “He is coming along rather well. I have to say, Tilly was right about him.”
“What?” It took Rutherford a moment to realize what DeGroen had said. “So, Tilly has been teaching the oaf how to write?”
He nodded. “She started off with reading. I have to admire Tilly’s vision for humanity. She even makes a better person out of me.”
“And she really gave him orders to lock me up here, if I should show up at the warehouse again?”
“I am afraid so.”
“How did you know about all this?” What he really wanted to know was whether she had told DeGroen of his dependency on laudanum.
“I was there when she gave Crump the order. She did not discuss her reasons with me. I assumed they were good ones.”
Rutherford winced at the truth of this, but there was no judgement in DeGroen’s voice. “So you knew about her business here?”
DeGroen shrugged. “I know about all of Tilly’s businesses. Frederick is my closest friend, and they are in all these ventures together, though she has the better head for business. But she is also too honourable to keep it secret from me. You see, she knew that my grandfather was a stickler for what he called ‘good moral character.’ Tilly wanted me to have full knowledge of the risk involved in marrying her, should Grandfather Fowler ever find out about her enterprises.”
“And you might as well know...” DeGroen swallowed as he met Rutherford’s gaze. “You might as well know that I have always known about you.”
“About me?” Rutherford paused in his pacing.
“About your affair. It is amazing to me that you did not sort it out for yourself, but our projected marriage was not a love match. Tilly was trying to help me and she was willing to look like a fortune-hunter to do it.”
Rutherford smiled. That was Tilly to a tittle. “I suppose it was hard for me to believe that anyone could be so lucky as to be engaged to Tilly and not be madly in love with her.”
DeGroen chuckled. “I quite agree. And I do love Tilly. But there were other reasons why she was helping me… In short we love each other almost as a brother and sister, because,” he gave emphasis to the words, “her brother and I are so close.”
Rutherford squinted at DeGroen. His smile grew broader as understanding descended upon him like an angel of deliverance. He was speechless for a few moments. “I see. Well, I have been a blind idiot then, have I not?”
“Well...” DeGroen lifted his shoulders and tilted his head equivocally. “On the other hand, Rutherford, we were quite discreet enough. And Frederick is a married man, you know.”
Rutherford chuckled. “Also arranged by Tilly, or so Aldley informs me. She is quite the little schemer, our Tilly.” He met DeGroen’s eye as he said these words.
They shared a look of fondness, and DeGroen said, “Yes, our Tilly is ever a schemer for a good cause. And it speaks very well of you that you can admire it in her.”
“I love it in her, DeGroen. I love everything about her. She is the most fascinating woman I have ever met. She is an utter adventuress, but she has a heart of gold—no, more precious than gold. Tilly’s heart is made out of the same stuff as angels’ halos.”
DeGroen laughed at this poetical effusion. “A devil’s ingenuity anchored to an angel’s heart. One wonders what God was thinking when He crafted that charming little hypocrite.”
Rutherford’s voice was dreamy and awe-filled. “He was thinking of me.”
DeGroen inclined his head.
Rutherford’s heart soared. She was perfect for him. And she was free. He leapt to DeGroen's side to shake his hand. “You are a good sort, DeGroen. A jolly decent fellow. And I am sorry for any ill-tempered thing I ever said about you.”
DeGroen’s lips twitched as he returned the handshake. “Likewise, Rutherford.”
“Now I must go find her!” Rutherford made for the door.
“Wait!” DeGroen called him back. “I know you are anxious. But Crump is still on the other side of that door. Do you really want yet another altercation at this happy moment? He is only following Tilly’s orde
rs. Besides, I have not yet told you how I knew I would find you here.”
Rutherford halted abruptly. That was quite true.
“I only bring it up because I mean to caution you before you go bolting off to find Tilly.”
“Caution me?”
DeGroen held up a hand. “Let me explain. When I arrived home from making some last arrangements for my grandfather—”
“Oh yes.” Rutherford was contrite. “My condolences. Forgive me for not offering them earlier.”
DeGroen nodded impatiently. “Thank you. As I was saying, when I returned home, my servant advised me that you had been there, and that he had told you I had left with Mrs. DeGroen. He meant my mother, of course. But I was quite certain that you would have drawn a different inference.”
Rutherford nodded.
“Tilly had gone back to her parents’ house. She seemed to be labouring under the belief that you loved another.” DeGroen’s face betrayed no condemnation.
But Rutherford certainly condemned himself for this. He sighed. “It is not so—”
“Yes, I am quite sure of it. But I took it upon myself to lay the misunderstanding, at least as regards Tilly and I, to rest once and for all. So I went to your house. You had just left, and your servant did not know where you had gone. However, I noticed a dirty little smudge of an urchin lingering about in the shadows, so I decided to question him.”
“Really?” A suspicion formed in Rutherford’s mind. “And what was his business there?”
“He was so frightened that it took five quid to bring me into his confidence, but it seemed he was hired by Screwe to watch you.”
“The filthy spying bastard!”
“Indeed. But to sum things up, the child had overheard your directions to the driver, and had already dispatched a message to notify Screwe. So thither went I to seek you out. But I suspect Screwe will be somewhere nearby by now.”
Rutherford sprang back into action. “But do you not see, DeGroen? If you sent a message to Tilly, she will come here, and Screwe will be watching. I must go protect her!”
Rutherford flew to the door just as it opened to reveal Tilly, all dressed in black and peering out at him from under her veil with anxious eyes.
Chapter 67
Tilly looked from DeGroen to Rutherford as confusion, then relief, spread over her.
Her smile was tentative. “I see you have not been fighting. That is one good thing, I guess.”
“Tilly.” Rutherford’s hand reached out to clasp hers, and her heart thudded madly in her chest.
There was so much remorse in his eyes mingled with the affection there. Was he about to tell her that everything had changed, that he was now in love with the sumptuous Widow Colling? And yet, if that were true, would he not be happy? Why would he have been driven to visit Tilly’s warehouse?
“Ahem.” DeGroen’s assumed look of aloof amusement was a poor disguise for the happiness in his eyes as he looked at her. “I shall leave you two to talk. But before I go,” he bent in and kissed Tilly’s cheek, “consider yourself jilted, darling. I’ve got my money and have no intention of interrupting my amusements by anchoring myself down to a wife, especially one so drearily virtuous.”
“Who knew you were such a scoundrel?” Tilly laughed. She actually felt tears forming in her eyes at DeGroen’s goodness. When had she become such a weepy little ninny? But still, she was deeply impressed by his chivalry. He was going to make himself out to be a black-hearted infidel, in order to preserve her reputation.
“I believe Rutherford had some inkling of my scoundrelly ways. Which is why I have little doubt that he will console you in your hour of bitterest heartbreak, and some day, who knows what lovely blossom might spring forth from the root of such chaste compassion?”
Tilly could not quite formulate her feelings at this suggestion before Mr. DeGroen, with a wink, slipped through the door and left them alone.
Rutherford’s eyes were burning when she turned to look at him again. “My love, Mr. DeGroen has told me all, and...”
“So you understand why I insisted upon the engagement? Oh, William—” She wrinkled her nose. “Would it be acceptable if I just call you Rutherford? I cannot quite get used to William.”
He laughed and nodded.
She continued. “It pained me not to tell you, but how could I share a secret that was not mine to tell?”
“I understand, my darling. And I admire you for your heart, for your resolve to help your loved ones, no matter how bad it made you appear, no matter what it cost you.”
“And yet, when I began… that is when you and I became entangled, I thought it would be a safe enough affair. DeGroen had bid me to enjoy myself, and I believed your knowledge of my engagement would shield you from giving me your heart. True, I even believed that your professions of love were only part of a seductive art of dalliance at which you had great practice. If only I had known...”
“Then I am glad you did not. For all this—even the mistakes—it has all led us here.” He pressed her hand to his lips. “Tell me that you love me, dearest Tilly. My heart is yours. It will never love any other.”
Tilly’s heart was overflowing in the tears streaming down her cheeks. She hated crying, but in the moment, she simply could not help herself. And yet, she had to know. “And what of Mrs. Colling?” Tilly knew she sounded bitter.
Rutherford’s face was so full of pain and shame that Tilly dreaded what he would say. But his beautiful lips formed the words, “What you saw was not an act of passion. We were squabbling like two children over a token of my uncle’s life, of our last moments with him. I would laugh at how ridiculous I made myself, if I were not so ashamed of how I behaved toward Mrs. Colling. I was out of my head with grief, but she was suffering too. She certainly did not deserve such treatment. But I have no other feeling for her than this regret and contrition.”
Tilly’s smile could not stop her tears, but a warmth spread over her when Rutherford pulled her close to him.
“There is no room in my heart for anyone else. I love you. Now admit that you love me.” He slipped down to her waist suddenly and hiked up her skirts, then stood to press himself against her mound. “Do not make me resort to special measures to extract your confession.”
“Well.” She gasped as he began to play with her with his finger. “You are dressed blackly enough to be a high inquisitor.” She moaned with pleasure as he found her pearl and massaged it. “Oh, how I love you. But I still want you to extract that confession.”
“Well,” he gave her a wicked look, “how else will I know that you are telling the truth?”
Then he hefted her up in his arms and carried her to the bed in the prison cell, laying her down gently and stripping off her clothing, and his own.
She assisted him in this process, impatient to feel his skin, to see his rippling muscles and his beautiful manhood.
When all their mourning clothes had been cast aside, he kissed her deeply and ran his fingers lightly over her breasts, making them yearn after more until the nipples began to harden.
Then he took a nipple in his mouth, sucking and stroking it with his tongue, which threw her into such a feeling of happy submission that all she could do was moan, “Oh yes!”
She felt his erect cock slide closer to her quim. It was hot and hard like freshly forged iron. “Is that a red hot poker?” She smiled mischievously at him.
“Oh yes. And you will feel its brand.” His gaze was searing through her. She could feel herself getting wet. “But first, I have another line of inquiry.”
He dropped down and began to lick her pearl mercilessly, massaging her inside with his finger as he did it, stroking and stroking until she thought she could not hold back any longer.
Then he raised himself back up and kissed her deeply again, so she could taste her own body on his tongue. She groaned with longing. “Oh, give me the rod, Inquisitor!”
He leaned back and looked at her, his face deadly serious, his massive orga
n throbbing and almost glowing with his heat. He was silent as he lifted her hips and thrust his cock into her.
She gasped, and he held it there for a moment, watching her eyes dilate. Then he withdrew and pushed into her more deeply, leaning over her body and kissing her as he thrust into her over and over.
The pleasure mounted in her. More, she wanted more, and his passionate strokes came harder and faster until she screamed with pleasure. He clasped her hips and pulled himself so deep inside her.
She could feel him spasming with an ecstasy that matched her own, as his hot seed spread within her in trembling waves.
Then they both lay back, panting.
After she had caught her breath she said, “How I love you, my stallion.”
“Well, I believe you.” He was still breathing heavily. “But I like to be thorough in my inquisitorial examinations, you know.”
She smiled her invitation as she saw his member growing hard again. Then she spread her legs and said. “Oh, I am ready for the rod, Inquisitor. For my soul’s sake, you must not spare me.”
“I shall show you no mercy,” he growled.
Chapter 68
When they had put their clothes back on, Rutherford hugged Tilly close to his heart. “In situations such as these, it has become something of a tradition to ask you to marry me. And now you are free.” He grinned. “Would you object to a proposal within the walls of your own prison chamber?”
Tilly thought for a moment. “Not at all. I think if one is to be shackled for life, a prison chamber is quite apropos.”
“Well then.” He dropped to one knee and placed her hand over his heart. “Will you be my wife, Tilly?”
“You will not try to take away my freedom, and make me do dull little screen covering projects to fill my time instead of trying to help humanity?”
Rutherford laughed. “I should have known this would be a negotiation. But let me assure you, dearest, most adorable of women, that I will not try to put a stop to any of your strange ventures. In fact, I think the two of us might work together for good. You make me want to be a better man, Tilly.”
