Steam & Sorcery

by Cindy Spencer Pape

  Caroline shrugged. “I don’t know. It may well be. Most of the women in that group pretend to be literate, but none of them is a true intellectual. It could be though, that someone is taking advantage of their susceptibility and somehow using them to further his own goals.”

  He nodded slowly. “Someone with real power. Yes, it’s possible. Even if it’s unlikely, it’s something I should follow up on. Lord knows I don’t have any other leads. You say this event is tomorrow night?”

  Caroline nodded. “The Sorcery Society balls are always on Fridays, according to what I overheard.” She handed over her notebook with the list of members’ names and other bits of information she’d garnered.

  Merrick studied the list. “Bingley—I can catch him tomorrow morning at White’s. He’s there every day just in time for luncheon.”

  “I’d like to go as well, if I may. Since it’s a masked ball, no one will know who I am. I may be able to pick up things from the ladies that a gentleman might not hear.” Forgetting to clutch her dressing gown closed, she leaned forward, both her hands flat on his desk.

  “Absolutely not. This may be a harmless fancy dress party, but as you say, it may not. If there truly is magick at work, you could be in danger.”

  “Nonsense.” She was not about to let him leave her behind. “No more danger than I appear to be in from walking in the park. You’ll need someone to watch your back. And I promise to remain inconspicuous. No one will know I’m the governess if we both remain incognito.”

  He barked out a rough laugh. “Caro, I doubt you could be inconspicuous if you were covered in tree bark in the middle of a forest.”

  She tipped her head and narrowed her eyes. “Was that meant to be a compliment? It certainly didn’t sound like one.”

  “I have no idea.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose with forefinger and thumb. “I think it was just a statement of fact. No matter how hard you try to hide it, you’re a beautiful young woman, and even without your touch of faery glamour, people notice.”

  “Maybe I should just cut off my nose or something. Or pray for warts.” She leaned further over the desk and rested her chin on her hands. “A pretty face is nothing but a nuisance.” So why was she delighted that he found her attractive, even without the so-called magick?

  Merrick winced. “And now you can add me to the list of employers who’ve behaved badly toward you. I’m sorry for the other night, Caro. I promise, it won’t happen again.”

  She felt her face heat, knew she was blushing red as an apple. “That was different. It was…mutual, not an act of force. I don’t hold you responsible for anything, Merrick.” There was no way she could tell him his kiss had been one of the most astounding experiences of her life—perhaps the best.

  “Still, you have my apologies.” He opened and closed his mouth as if he’d started to say something but thought better of it.

  A wicked thought occurred to her and she fluttered her lashes in an exaggerated manner. “Then you may express your remorse by taking me with you to the Sorcery Society ball.”

  “Absolutely not.” He stood and leaned over the desk, hands planted on either side of her shoulders, forcing her to tip her neck back at an awkward angle to look up at him. This close she could smell him—male skin, with just a hint of shaving lotion and good tobacco. She’d never seen him smoke, so she assumed it was someone he’d been with at his club.

  Caroline shrugged. “Fine. I’ll send a note to Mr. MacKay. I assume he’ll know someone who can procure us tickets. He wanted to escort me to the theatre tomorrow, but I’m sure I’ll find this much more entertaining.”

  “No.” The word started as a rumble deep in his chest and burst out with explosive force.

  Caroline didn’t draw back, just held his gaze with her own. “I will be attending.”

  He glowered. “You work for me, remember? I said no.”

  “I’ll resign, if that’s what it takes.” She wouldn’t of course. Leaving those children was unthinkable.

  “If you resign, I won’t be your employer.”

  “So?”

  Triumph sang in his slow, smug smile. “So then I can do this.” His action was so swift she barely saw him move before he’d dragged her up onto the desk, scattering books and papers left and right as her skirts slid across the polished surface. At the end, she knelt at the far edge of the desk with him standing in front of her, so close she could hear his heartbeat.

  Caroline squeaked. That was all the sound she could get out before his lips came down on hers. Immediately, she stopped fighting him and wound her arms around his neck, kissing him back. When he slipped his tongue along her lips, she opened for him. She’d read about this, imagined it, but neither had done justice to the sensation of being crushed against Merrick’s chest while his mouth plundered hers.

  Her entire body responded to his touch—even her stomach cramped with some kind of need. His hair slid through her fingers, thick and silky, while her other hand pressed against the broad strength of his back. Even through waistcoat and shirt, he radiated warmth. Sliding her hand down his back, feeling the shape of his muscular form, was too much temptation to resist.

  His hands weren’t idle either. One cupped the back of her head, holding her in place. The other roamed up and down her spine, then around to settle on her hip before slipping inside her dressing gown to caress her through nothing more than the thin cotton of her nightgown. Instinctively she shifted to the side, allowing him more room to explore, even as she trailed her own fingers down past his belt. The muscles of his bum were every bit as solid as those of his shoulders, and she dug her fingers into the firm flesh through his woolen trousers.

  Merrick’s gasp urged her on, even as his hand moved up under her robe to the side of her breast, which felt heavy and tender, almost bruised, but somehow soothed by the glide of his palm. He nibbled at her lips, then slid his mouth down to the column of her throat, and she instinctively arched her neck. The movement put her breast more firmly into his hand and he squeezed lightly, which only made her yearn for more. When his thumb rasped along her nipple and he nipped the tendon at the base of her neck, she let out a broken cry.

  Caroline wasn’t a fool—she knew where this was leading. She simply didn’t want it to end. For the first time in her life, she was willing to go where her emotions led. Her fingers trembled as she opened the buttons on his waistcoat and pulled his shirt free of his waistband. Then her hands were there, under his shirt, touching bare, warm flesh, even as he rolled her nipple between fingers and thumb.

  She needed to be closer. Scooting forward on the desk, she sat back on her heels so she could widen her knees, allowing Merrick to stand with his hips between them, so she effectively straddled his thighs. When had he untied her dressing gown and pushed it open? Now only his trousers and her flimsy nightgown separated them, making his desire more than obvious where it pressed into her stomach. One of his hands still tormented her breast, while the other made quick work of the buttons at the neck of her nightgown. As soon as it was open, his lips trailed downward, skating across her collarbone, then down into the valley of her sternum before he ran the tip of his tongue around her breast. Finally, he lightly licked her aching nipple.

  “Oh!” She arched her back, pressing herself even closer, as if begging for more—embarrassing, but probably true.

  Merrick seemed to understand. His lips closed around the sensitive bud and he drew it into the wet heat of his mouth, dragging a moan from deep in Caroline’s throat.

  Then she felt his other hand sliding up her thigh—under the hem of her nightgown. His fingertips were callused and rasped slightly on her skin, but his touch was exquisitely gentle. She could do little more than grip what part of him she could reach—his waist with one hand, a shoulder with the other, and spread her knees just a little wider as his hand approached her core.

  “Christ, Caro,” he muttered. He pulled his mouth away from her nipple and kissed a line to the center of her chest, speaking a wo
rd or two between each kiss. “So lovely. So responsive. So bloody damn tempting.”

  She almost cried out with the loss as he stopped suckling her, but he merely moved his head to her other breast, treating it to the same tender attentions.

  A moment later, his fingers reached the juncture of her thighs, lightly skimming across the curls there, teasing the skin below. She shifted, leaning back on her elbows, her legs splayed on either side of his, her head thrown back and her center pressed against his hand. He cupped her there with one big hand while he continued to suckle at her breast, now pulling more strongly as his fingers pushed inward, sliding through her damp folds.

  “Merrick.” It came out somewhere between a sigh and a whimper.

  “Lovely, Caro,” he murmured against her skin, before resuming the glorious suction.

  He found the knot of nerves at the top of her sex and massaged it softly, rendering her incapable of speech altogether. She arched into his touch, eyes squeezed shut, and just focused on her other senses. The wet sound of his hand on her quim, the gasps of her own ragged breathing, the scent of his sweat and her own arousal, and oh, heavens, the feel of his mouth and hand, doing things she’d never thought to experience. Pressure built, low in her belly and seemed to be striving toward…something.

  “Let go,” Merrick muttered. He switched back to her other breast, allowing the cool air to caress the damp tip he’d just abandoned. “Come for me, Caro.”

  Let go. Wasn’t that what she’d been doing? But some part of her understood, and she relaxed her control over her body, letting her hips rise and fall as they wanted to against his hand.

  Stars exploded behind her eyelids. Ripples of pleasure coursed from her womb out to every inch of her skin, and her body seemed briefly to be suspended midair—touching nothing but Merrick, anchored only by his strength. He stroked her slowly and kissed his way back to her mouth, taking her lips tenderly as her shudders subsided.

  As soon as she could move, she tentatively reached for the buttons on his trousers.

  “No.” He dropped one last kiss on her lips, and then stood, pulling her back up to sit on the edge of the desk. His chest heaved with his ragged breathing and his face was sheened with perspiration. With an odd smile, he tucked her dressing gown back around her and tied the sash. “We need to stop now, darling, difficult though it is for both of us.”

  “But you…” She glanced down at the extremely prominent bulge beneath his trouser buttons. When she brushed her hand along that rather intimidating ridge, he groaned.

  “I’ll survive, I promise.” His wry laugh sounded forced.

  “You don’t want me?” His actions seemed at odds with his physical reaction.

  “More than anything. But I’ll not take your maidenhead here on my desk, with an unlocked door and a houseful of curious relatives and children.” He smoothed a strand of hair that had escaped from her braid. “What just happened was nothing to be ashamed of, Caro. But if we’d kept on, there could have been…irrevocable consequences.”

  “Of course.” Consequences like herself—exactly what she’d always planned to avoid. She gripped his upper arms and inhaled deeply. “Thank you. You’ve more willpower than I do, and I do appreciate it.”

  “Whereas I’m already calling myself all kinds of fool.” He dropped a kiss on her nose. “Go to bed, Caro, before my willpower fails completely.”

  “Very well.” She leaned her face into his chest for just a second before she pulled back and fastened the buttons on her nightgown. “So does this mean I’m no longer employed?”

  “I would take it as a great personal favor if you wouldn’t resign.” He tipped up her chin so she was forced to look into his eyes rather than at his chest. “I’d like to promise this won’t happen again, but we’ve already seen how well that works out.”

  “And I’ll remind you again. Everything that just occurred was fully consensual.” Even if that did make her as wanton as her mother. “I don’t want to leave, Merrick. The children need me, and I especially can’t run away when they might be in danger.”

  “Then it’s settled. This—whatever the hell this is—has no bearing on your position as governess.” His shoulders relaxed a little, as if he was actually relieved.

  “And I am going to that ball tomorrow night. Is that settled as well? I’d rather go with you than with Gideon MacKay.”

  He winced, but nodded. “I’ll procure two tickets. Your task will be to find us dominoes and masks. I’m sure there’s something in the attic somewhere. The children will love rummaging around in the old trunks.”

  “I’m sure they will.”

  “Oh—and in case I forgot to tell you, we have a dinner engagement at Trowbridge’s before the ball. You and Edwin were specifically invited, along with Dorothy and myself. We’ll go directly from there to the ball, so it will have to be dominoes, not regular fancy-dress.”

  Caroline blinked in shock. “I’m to go to dinner? A governess, dining with a duke?”

  “He is my superior, and you are part of my household. Besides, you liked him well enough to dance with him the other night.” Now he was teasing her, the rat.

  She tossed her head and grinned back. “Yes, I did. I promise to behave myself and not to use the wrong fork.”

  “Good night, Caroline.”

  After giving her clothing one last check, she made her way back to her room. Lying back on her bed, she stared through the dark at the ceiling. Dinner with a duke and duchess. A masked ball. An intimate interlude with Merrick. Caroline wasn’t sure she could ever read a gothic romance again—it seemed she’d fallen head-first into one.

  Merrick watched her leave, his body still primed and yearning, though he’d damn near come in his trousers like an untried lad. What the hell was he going to do about Caro?

  He locked his study door behind her and poured himself a stiff drink before plopping back into his chair. His desk was a mess, and the scent of lavender and roses still filled the air. Thankfully, he hadn’t had any pens or open ink bottles about. Explaining that to the servants would have been awkward.

  He began to reorder his desk with half his mind still on Caroline. She was a puzzle, to be sure, prim and proper one moment, writhing in passion the next. He could barely recall the calm, well-ordered haven his home had been before she’d come into it. Certainly, most of the chaos was due to the children, but the havoc in his mind and soul? That was on her.

  The woman was strong, resilient and far too intelligent for her own safety. What was he going to do about her? Clearly he couldn’t trust himself to be alone with her. It would be difficult to face her the next day without remembering the sight and feel of her falling apart in his arms. And yet, he had a promise to keep, if only because he knew she’d stick to her vow to get MacKay to take her to the ball instead.

  Merrick jotted off a note to Albert Bingley, asking him to meet at White’s the following morning, and set the missive on the hall table. Mountjoy would see it sent off first thing, probably before Merrick was even awake.

  Drink in hand, he made his way upstairs. Again, the refrain echoed through his brain. What the hell was he going to do about Caro?

  Chapter Ten

  Butterflies tumbled in Caroline’s stomach as she curtseyed to the Duke and Duchess of Trowbridge. Their townhouse—mere blocks from Buckingham Palace—glittered with candlelight from gilded chandeliers along with gas-powered wall sconces. The pink marble floor of the foyer was veined with gold, and burgundy velvet chairs with gilded legs were scattered about invitingly. Her host and hostess welcomed her warmly as she stood between Dorothy and Mr. Berry in the receiving line.

  “We’re so glad you could make it, Miss Bristol.” Her grace squeezed Caroline’s hand warmly.

  “You’ll be sure to save me a dance, now, won’t you dear?” The duke gave her a friendly smile. “I’ll try not to step on your toes this time.”

  “I’m sure you’ve never done such a thing in your life.” Caroline smiled back, put a
t ease. “I’d be delighted, your grace.”

  “Except, we have another engagement right after dinner, so can’t stay for the dancing,” Merrick reminded her, from his place ahead of Dorothy. “Next time, sir.”

  “Ah, thrown over for a younger man.” The duke winked. “Take care of her, Hadrian. She owes me a dance.”

  They moved into the ballroom, where the guests were gathering before the meal. Caroline felt the curious gazes of strangers as she entered on Merrick’s arm. In her daringly cut, bronze-and-ivory evening gown, held wide over hoops, ivory kid gloves and satin dancing slippers, she felt like a princess. Sally had piled Caroline’s hair in an intricate arrangement, decked with ivory silk roses and bronze ribbons to match the gown. Her only jewelry was her mother’s seed pearl necklace and earrings, and she carried an ivory fan, borrowed from Dorothy, at her insistence.

  The hairs on the back of her neck twitched as Mr. Berry glared at her. They hadn’t informed him or Dorothy of their foray to the Sorcery ball—just that they had a trail to follow regarding the case, which was why they’d come in two separate carriages.

  Merrick went off to fetch beverages, while Dorothy introduced Caroline to a number of friends. She’d met a few at the library, and more at the MacKays’ dinner party, but dread still curled in her stomach. What if she ran into a former employer?

  A mechanical servant glided through the room on soundless wheels, offering canapés to the guests, and Caroline instinctively shrank back from the machine, lest she inadvertently damage it. She tripped on a flounce of her trailing skirt and stumbled, knocking herself into the gentleman standing behind her.

  Caroline whirled, her face warm with embarrassment. “How clumsy of me. I’m so terribly sorry, sir.”

  “It’s nothing,” the gentleman said absently. He was perhaps five years older than Caroline, already balding and with a notable paunch. He turned back to his companion—a pinch-faced woman of maybe twenty-five, who glared down her nose at Caroline. A tendril of fear slithered down Caroline’s spine. It couldn’t be.