Unveiling Love: A Regency Romance (A London Regency Romantic Suspense Tale Book 3)

by Vanessa Riley

  He watched her hips sway as she went into his study. His insides churned anew. Allowing her to help would probably become another one of his regrets, on his ever growing list.

  And she was definitely bare beneath the blanket.

  Chapter Two: Seeing The Past

  Amora never went to their cellar, any cellar. She clung to Barrington's arm as he led her down the steps.

  He stopped halfway down. "What would your mother say if she knew I was getting you more involved?"

  She thought about mentioning mother's other advice about not talking, but that wasn't a safe idea. Not with his kisses still smoldering on her lips and a huge chunk of the mystery hiding below. She nodded as she tugged him forward. "Mother's sleeping very heavily tonight, so she won't find out."

  Further down the staircase, it became darker and much harder to breathe. She wasn't afraid to confront Mr. Miller. Her angst was the unknown, the pieces of her memories she couldn't grasp. "If this is truly Mr. Miller, then my memory of him calling out my name had to be real. That would mean he was there."

  Barrington looked tense like he did before big trials. His eyes darted over his glasses. "Yes, it would. And a whole bunch of other questions."

  She didn't care so much of other questions just one more answer. Maybe she wasn't so otherworldly.

  Maybe it was safe to believe in herself again.

  "Amora, are you suffering?"

  She blinked and looked up at Barrington.

  His eyes were wide. He looked ready to pounce upon anything amiss. "I said your name twice. You didn't respond."

  "I was a little sick this evening. Couldn't keep dinner down. Horrible dinner."

  "You've been sickly lately. Would it be of use to have a doctor look at you? I've reached out to my cousin from my mother's side of the family. You remember Hudson Solemn. He's just settling back from living in India. His methods would be different."

  "No doctors, especially your hateful cousin. He doesn't like me."

  "He doesn't like or dislike you. He mistrusts everyone."

  She slid her hand to his palm, lacing her fingers with his. "Never mind him. Seeing Miller will be all the good I need."

  They took a few more steps, then he spun her to him. "A month of stomach troubles? Amora, do you trust me enough to tell me anything? Even strain? Don't suffer in silence. Don't pretend anymore."

  Barrington's gaze was so warm. It held no pity. She felt valued and protected. Did he still love her after all they'd been through? After she'd rejected his every offer to make amends?

  "I would, Barr. Like you would have told me about Mr. Miller."

  He looked over his glasses again. "Well, he's here."

  "He must know where I was held captive. He may even know the identity of my tormentor."

  "Amora?" His spectacles askew. His robe hung disheveled. He'd never looked more handsome. "What if…? Wait—"

  "We can't stop now." She started down the steps again and prepared her mind for seeing Gerald Miller. What would be her first reaction?

  To shout?

  To cry?

  To crumble?

  Her footing slipped a little as she took the next step. Now wasn't the time to lose her wits. Latching more tightly to the railing, she hummed the song Barrington taught her in Hyde Park.

  Down the hall, past the wine cellar, he stopped at a closed door and moved in front of her. He gazed at her as if he saw her for the first time. Maybe seeing her with determination was different. "If this is too much, we can make this short. Or, I could take you now to your room. I'll carry you there. Maybe whisper sweet nothings."

  "Barr, stop joking. I'm fine. Mrs. Hessing needs better cooks. We go together. Unity."

  "I don't know how he's alive, Amora. Did he desert? How did he get from the battlefield to Bedlam? Is he a murderer like Beakes said? Did he hurt you?"

  Murderer? Not kind Mr. Miller, Barrington's loyal friend. She reached up to touch her husband's jaw. "Breathe, the answers will come."

  He kissed her palm. "Wise woman."

  Rolling back his thick cuff, he knocked upon the door. "It's Norton."

  A frowning James answered. "Ma'am?" Waving a sloshing mug of coffee, he blocked the entry. The brown liquid splashed, staining his livery about his lapel.

  The stench of coffee filled the air, clogging her throat. She grabbed the molding framing the door, her voice a whisper. "James, we came to see Mr. Miller."

  Barrington grabbed the mug. He slid it passed her nose.

  She wrinkled her nose and kicked her head backwards. Now wasn't the time to vomit.

  Half-smiling, Barrington put the cup to his lips. After a big gulp of the noxious potion, he wiped his mouth. "Sorry, James. I needed something to make me more alert."

  "Sir, ma'am. I have things under control here. You should both retire."

  Barrington put an arm about her waist. "I've already offered, but she won't go. She knows everything."

  The strength in his big arm made her steady. She leaned into him, righting her dizzy mind. "We must see, Mr. Miller."

  James seemed hesitant. His gaze flickered from her to Barrington.

  "All is well for now, James. And Mrs. Norton just creatively saved my hide."

  His voice lowered, kissing her ear. "We should discuss your methods in detail later." He pursed his lips and let his gaze wash over her. "There's a great deal we need to discuss."

  In the candlelight, Barrington's eyes glittered. It didn't seem like a lecture would be forthcoming.

  "Yes, sir. He's got the shakes real bad. Real bad." James nodded his chin as he moved aside. "I'll wait by the door."

  Barrington slowly lifted his fingers from her middle and let Amora slip into the room.

  A gasp bubbled from her mouth before she could stop it. The whitewashed bedchamber seemed smallish like the asylum she'd been sent to.

  "Amora?" A frown fell upon his lips. "If this will cause too much strain, I won't let you stay."

  "I'm well. I've never been down here."

  She tiptoed to the mattress upon which Mr. Miller laid. Linen draped his thin frame. His emerald eyes lay open. She waved her hand over his face.

  Nothing, no movement or hint of awareness. Could he see the boards forming the low ceiling?

  Did he know she and Barrington were there and just couldn't respond? His body twitched. She stepped away.

  "What's wrong with him?"

  Barrington stepped beside her. "Miller, awaken! Tell us how you are alive?" He started to shake his best friend. "I saw the lead ball tear into your chest. How is this possible?"

  She pulled at Barrington's wild hands. "Stop. He won't answer if you further scramble his brainbox."

  "I just need answers, Amora. I don't like so many questions."

  Gerald Miller's eyes moved. In a shaky voice, he mumbled something.

  Barrington put his ear close. "Say it again, Miller."

  This time the moan was louder. "M. Tomàs safe."

  Barrington's face became ashen. "What about Miss Tomàs?" He gripped Miller's thin shoulder as if he'd rip them apart. "What about Amora Tomàs? What about her? Why are you asking?"

  The anguish and confusion in her husband's voice was thick. It wrenched her heart. From behind, she wrapped her arms about him. "Let Miller go. He's unconscious again."

  Barrington struggled for another moment then backed away from the bed. He pivoted and scooped her into his embrace. "Why is he talking about you?"

  She lifted her chin and caught his hurting stare. "Because he was there. I remember hearing his voice where the monster kept me. But, you said he died on the battlefield."

  He set her on a stool, then started to pace. His bare feet slapped the ground with each pivot. "You'd mentioned being confused over voices and people. Oh, why didn't I listen? I wouldn't have set Beakes onto Miller thinking he was a fraud."

  Barrington stopped. His shoulders slouched as he leaned over the bed again. "Beakes thinks he killed Miss Druby, the milkmaid. N
an Druby was abducted just like you. If Miller is a murderer, is he also the villain who took you?"

  Closing her eyes, she tried to force the broken pieces of her memories to return. Nothing, no image became clear. "I don't know. I don't think so."

  "This time we have to be sure. No doubts. If he hurt you, so help me, I'll kill him. I don't care if he did save my life."

  "Wait. Barrington, just wait." She put her hands to her temples. A prayer or scream for truth and for Barr illuminated in her spirit. She hurt for him. He loved Miller like a brother.

  Shutting her lids tight, she let the memories invade. Fear raced her spine as she pictured the trees at the distant part of the Tomàs Orchard. Slap. She struck the canvas with her brush, over and over. Tears had stained her vision. Then it happened, the monster came. He pulled his cape over her eyes, shrouded her in darkness. She had raised her hands high and punched his arm.

  Amora opened her eyes and bolted off the stool straight into Barrington's arms. "Not him. My abductor was very tall. One heavy arm grabbed at my neck." Water, unwanted and uncontrollable, drizzled down her cheek. "It was a thick arm, so much so I couldn't breathe."

  She swiped the stream away and recalled her anger and her power. "Not a victim any more. No more. I won't be. Monster, you will have a name."

  Barrington scooped her up and held her. She shivered. "You're not. You are safe. Say it with me."

  She coughed, fighting for air. She shook her head. "Why?"

  "Because you need to. I can't let you get so worked up. You could… get sick. Remember, Mrs. Hessing's horrid dinner. I don't want to clean up anything. I'm bone tired tonight from stealing a body and interrogating an unconscious man. No more work for me or poor James."

  She let his attempt at humor slow her pulse and savored the feel of his hands along her hips, the small of her back. The scent of him, musky and earthy, fought against her trembles. Well, the ones caused from fright.

  Never had she been more aware of him and how good it felt to be cradled against his chest. Her fingertips curled onto the lapels of his open robe.

  His gaze searched hers as if something were written upon her pupils. He dipped his head, kissed her brow, then released her. Playing with his sash, he rotated toward his friend. "We still don't know why Miller is alive or how he happened to be in the place your abductor kept you. Could he be in league with the monster? The man I visited the night you miscarried, he was hired to help carry out an evil man's crimes, also an abductor."

  She put a hand to Barrington's elbow. "I can't see such darkness in Gerald Miller. He'd never aid a fiend."

  "I couldn't see him as a deserter either. Things change. People change. I'm not sure of anything anymore."

  The ice block shrouding her heart melted even more. He was in such agony over Miller. "We are going to learn the truth, Barr. We are. We'll prove he's not a murderer or anything else untoward."

  Her husband's face was bleak. Lines formed in the corners of his frown. "One thing is certain, Miller won't be able to tell us more tonight. My cousin, with his medical knowledge, can help. He'll need to be discrete. If I can't convince him of that, perhaps a client whose neck I've saved from the gallows can."

  She clutched at his robe as if holding onto it would keep him safe. "Don't deal with criminals, Barrington. That's too dangerous. I don't want you putting yourself at more risk."

  That half-smile appeared again as he took her palm and led her to the door. "I'll be careful. Well, more careful."

  Exiting, he nodded to James who leaped from the wall and slogged back into Miller's room. "Come on, Mrs. Norton. It's time for you to rest."

  "How can we sleep with so much happening?"

  He didn't answer and led her back to the main landing. Shutting the door to the cellar, he shook his head and dropped his gaze to floor. It was as if the house had fallen in upon his shoulders. "If this added strain harms you, I'll never forgive myself. You deserve so much better."

  She made him turn and lifted his chin. "If we solve this mystery, you will be giving me the greatest gift. My life back. Maybe I'll see a morning without nightmares. We may even be able to learn Sarah's whereabouts."

  His eyes had dulled again. Not quite the level of desperation he had when he was in his office, but very close. "The costs to you, to us, may be very high. Too high, Amora."

  "It's too late to turn back. You can't un-steal him. No one will find out Miller is here. James is loyal. We'll find other ways to throw suspicion off of you. You'll still be one of the crown's trusted barristers."

  There was something in his expression, the twitch of his cheek that screamed this was bigger than his career. What filled his head? And why did it feel thick and dire?

  "My career. Yes, my precious career. It comes before you, doesn't it?"

  "I'm sorry. I know that isn't fair. What is it you are not telling me?"

  Her pulse raced as she could almost see the gears of truth and consequences turning in his head. He paused and shifted his stance as if weighing the options or excuses. "I'd like to say nothing, but that would be a lie."

  How could she hope to be stronger if he held such low expectations of her? Everything inside her winced. She couldn't give up. He needed her and she wouldn't let him fight this alone. "Don't push me away. We can figure this out together."

  "We have to find your Sarah more than ever. Your memories and hers have to be enough to puzzle this out. The magistrate gave me two names, Sarah Calloway and Sarah Growlins. Does either sound familiar?"

  She rubbed at her temples, but the only thing in her head was fear for Barrington. "No."

  "Both were abducted around the same time as you. The details in their complaints match your horrors."

  The twitch in his cheek became more pronounced. Barrington could make his handsome features stone when he needed to win at trial. She'd seen it. What he knew must be horrid, but he needed to tell all. "Say the rest."

  "I am more convinced. I fear that you and Sarah and Miller are involved with the Dark Walk Abductor."

  She heard his words, but they didn't move her as much as his telling her his fears. Barrington did trust her strength.

  Her heart pounded, beating with expectation and joy. Had they moved to such a place in their relationship, that he would always believe in her?

  "Time for bed for you, Mrs. Norton. We are going to have a long day tomorrow. For normalcy, I'll head to Lincoln's Inn, but be ready by 5:00. We won't be able to visit Miss Growlins until the evening, that is if her father gives permission."

  She nodded. He led her back upstairs, all the way to her room. "We are solving this together. I'll be ready."

  Slowly, he pushed open her door then stood in the threshold to prevent her from entering. "I apologize again for bringing this to Mayfair. Don't go down to see Miller. He's not the man we remember from Clanville. He could be a murderer or worse. I'm going to have James find someone to watch him during the day."

  Her fingers soaked up the warmth of his palm. "Mother knows herbs. She could help Mr. Miller. That would limit the number of people who know."

  "No. The pharaoh can't know of this. Our truce will be done. Yet, what accusation of hers wouldn't be true? I've endangered you all." He pressed his lips together so tightly they seemed like pages of a closed book.

  Why had she been so blind to see that he cared for family as much as his career?

  A noisy sigh left him. "Beakes is no fool. He might've bought our little theater tonight, but he'll be watching the house, you and me, to see if we can lead him to Miller."

  He took their linked hands and tapped them against his chest. Try to avoid telling Mrs. Tomàs."

  "I make no promises on keeping secrets from you or her."

  His head bobbed. "Good policy." He put his hands about her waist. His thumbs massaged her middle again. I need for you to believe in me, too. My desire for us to be happy, to be united has not changed."

  Her breath stuck as she tried to think of reasons against this not
ion. It was difficult with the press of his fingers drawing her closer. Could she give in to the pull, the whirlwind of loving him, of being loved by him?

  She swallowed and looked away from his hungry silver eyes.

  Barrington sighed low, like a tiger's growl. He moved his palms. "Let's see what we can uncover these final seven days of our bargain. Pity we can't find reasons to extend your stay."

  He took her hand and put it to his jaw. The slight stubble made her fingers vibrate. "Do you know of any reasons why you should stay longer, Amora? Ones strong enough to forget this separating business?"

  "I can't think of leaving you now. Not with all the risk."

  "What of when this is over? For I will find the villain. What about then?"

  If she said yes, would things go as well as the last time she let her whole heart love him? "I don't want to think too far ahead. Things change and never for the better."

  He pushed at his brow. "Then we'll think about now, one day or night at a time."

  Amora focused on his silvery smoky eyes. Her fingers danced across the firm muscles of his bared chest before she pulled away. The need to lie safe within his arms made her skin tingle, but she couldn't. She wasn't strong enough to weather disappointing him again. "Goodnight."

  She spun to her door. He held onto her hand. Like the turn of a waltz, he swirled her to him. The heat in his gaze, the curve of his lip set her heart a flutter. She didn't want to be alone. Nightmares awaited her when she slept.

  He bent his head and took her lips. His hands went under her robe, caressing her. His fingers sculpted her against him.

  Losing herself with him, would it be so wrong?

  All her intentions of leaving him outside of her chambers disappeared as he planted kisses at the base of her neck.

  "Tell me yes, Amora."

  Consent was on her tongue. Couldn't he taste it?

  Did she have to admit to needing him aloud?

  One arm went about his waist. The other stubbornly stayed still.

  She let him have his way with her mouth. Her robe slipped, offering a shoulder for his hands to claim. Surrendering to his strength seemed right.