With her eyes still closed, she inhaled the heady scent of lovemaking that perfumed the tangled sheets and relished the feel of him pressed along her side as he slept. His skin was softer than she ever would have imagined, and smooth, nearly hairless. His limbs were sinewy and strong, yet he was astoundingly flexible when it counted. She, on the other hand, felt stretched and deliciously achy as a reminder of their love play. She had forgotten how vigorous making love could be, and how incredible she could feel afterward…or had it ever been this good?
Thinking back, she couldn’t help but recall the astonishing delight she’d felt at those first forays into desire with Quentin. She’d been heady with the thrill of it all, the rush of newfound sensations that she was suddenly free to explore.
Still, it mostly had been about Quentin and his pleasure, the assumption being that she’d get hers in the meantime. As a result, she did not feel comfortable taking her pleasure or making her preferences known. She’d always held something of herself back with Quentin, never really letting go. Then his late nights and foul moods had soured their relationship, making the bedchamber experiences disappointing and hollow.
In contrast, last night with Heath she’d practically lived among the stars. She’d felt free to be herself and take her pleasure. And it had been the most liberating experience of her life.
Wanting to see him, she opened her eyes and blinked at the morning sun soaking through the draperies of her bedroom.
On the bed beside her, Heath lay on his stomach with his muscular arms cushioning his head, the sheets negligently tossed aside as if he was too hot for such cosseting. His broad back sloped downward into those glorious mounds of muscle that she’d kneaded and explored with astonishing pleasure. Heat roused inside her, making her want to kick off the sheet covering her legs and reach for him once more.
Heath stirred, turning his head to face her and shoving the dark, tousled hair from his face, his eyes still closed in slumber. His cheekbone was pink from where he’d slept, and fuzz shadowed his cheeks and chin. His lips were lush and red and looked delicious enough to taste…
But she hesitated. To wake him meant they must face the day, a reckoning she loathed. For no matter how much they wanted to pretend otherwise, their normal lives would breach the intimacy that had cocooned them in the darkness of the night.
Tess sighed, suddenly sympathizing with Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet pretending that the dawn had not yet come.
“‘It was the nightingale, and not the lark that pierced the fearful hollow of thine ear,’” Tess whispered.
Heath’s smooth lips lifted in a sleepy smile.
“You weren’t supposed to hear that,” Tess complained, smiling.
“If ‘I must be gone and live, or stay and die,’” Heath quoted Romeo, “‘Let me be ta’en, let me be put to death.’ I’d certainly die a happy man.”
“I don’t recall that last line being in the play.”
“It’s all mine.” Reaching over, he wrapped his arms around her and held her close, nestling her body against his like pages in a book.
Closing her eyes, Tess pressed her nose into his arm and inhaled his rich, earthy scent. The hairs of his skin tickled her nose and a small hum emerged from deep in her throat that sounded astoundingly like a purr.
“Don’t you sound satisfied,” he murmured, setting his lips to her shoulder and taking a nip.
Muted sounds of disruption resonated from downstairs, followed by raised voices. The words couldn’t be heard, but there was no doubt of their belligerent tone.
Tess felt the interruption like a peal of doom.
Slowly she unwound his arm and scooted off the bed.
He leaned up on his elbow, his handsome face still smooth with repose. “Where are you going? I’m not done with you, yet.” He must have finally heard the commotion, too, for suddenly he sat up. “What’s that about?”
Tess walked over to the wardrobe, quickly removed her pale blue dressing gown, and put it on. “I don’t know.” She tied her sash tightly. “But it can’t be good.”
He was up in a flash, quickly donning his shirt. “I’ll go with you.”
Surprisingly, his offer comforted her. Still, she turned. “I don’t think you should—”
A loud bang crashed at the door and an exchange of words could be heard outside.
“My mistress is abed, I tell you! You’ll not go in there!” It was Ferguson, her butler.
“An’ I’ll not ’ave you giving ’er warning so she can make escape!” a man bellowed.
Heath shoved his legs into his breeches and jumped in front of Tess. “I’ll get it.”
“You can stand outside the door—” Ferguson asserted.
“You’ll not be tellin’ me what to do!”
Heath reached over and squeezed Tess’s hand, a reassuring look in his eyes. “I’m here with you. Whatever this is, we’ll deal with it together.”
Gratitude swept through her, but also an odd sense of disquiet. She was unused to a man taking charge in her life. “Thank you.”
“Of course. Ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
Heath turned and swung open the door.
Ferguson’s back was to the entry, obviously barring the unwanted guests. Two burly men stood before the loyal butler, one wheat-haired, the other carrot-topped, both dressed in street clothes. By the requisite tipstaff gripped in the blond one’s hand, Tess surmised that they were Bow Street Runners. No, this was definitely not good.
“What’s going on here?” Heath’s commanding voice instantly halted the bickering.
Tilting his head, Ferguson quickly stepped aside. Smart man; she’d be sure to reward his efforts on her behalf.
The carrot-topped Runner peered around his comrade, his pudgy nose lifted in the air. “I’d ask the same of you.”
“Officer Kelly, isn’t it?” Heath asked the blond-haired Runner.
The man straightened. “Do I know you, sir?”
“Heath Bartlett. I work for Solicitor-General Dagwood.”
Kelly blinked. “Ah, sorry, sir. I didn’t recognize you without…” His voice trailed off.
“No matter, Officer. Why don’t you and your friend wait downstairs and we will join you shortly?”
Kelly shook his head. “Can’t do that, sir, I’m sorry ta say. I’ve an arrest warrant for Lady Golding here, and I’ll not be having her make escape on my watch.”
An arrest warrant? Had Lady Bright tried to circumvent Heath’s investigation and pursued an alternative route? Still, what judge would issue a warrant on such skimpy evidence? Tess seethed. George Belington had a lot to answer for.
“I’m certain there’s a mistake here.” Heath’s voice was confident enough to be reassuring.
“No mistake, sir,” Kelly replied. “Magistrate Brown made sure everythin’ was done to the T, since we’re dealing with the upper class.”
Heath scratched his chin. “Magistrate Brown, eh? He is a good sort. But I assure you that there was no theft.”
The two officers exchanged a glance. “Theft?”
“The charges were fabricated based upon a grudge. The items in question were never actually stolen.”
Tess hadn’t realized how important Heath’s confidence in her was until that very moment, and she wanted to kiss him for believing in her. And for being so chivalrous. And she might as well kiss him for being so terribly kissable. Hmm. She blinked, forcing herself to focus on the exchange before her. No matter how baseless the charges, she was still going to have to deal with them.
Officer Kelly scratched his head. “Items in question? I think, sir, that we’re talkin’ the King’s English an yer talkin’ Chinese.”
“Which is why you men need to go downstairs and await Lady Golding, so we can discuss this in a civilized manner.”
“There’s nothin’ ta discuss,” the carrot-topped Runner countered. “We’re takin’ her ta Newgate and that’s that.”
“Newgate Prison?” Fe
rguson gasped, his face draining of color.
Tess stepped forward. “Don’t worry, Ferguson, I’m not going to Newgate Prison. This is a misunderstanding that will be resolved in a trice.”
Again the Bow Street Runners exchanged an uneasy glance. “Ye seem to be takin’ this quite lightly, m’lady. This is serious business.”
Tess smiled. “I know all about it, Officer Kelly, and I’m not worried. The truth will win out, and you will see that this is all a terrible mistake.”
The red-topped officer stepped forward menacingly. “Why you hard-hearted wench! A woman’s dead, for lawd’s sake!”
Tess froze, fearing that she’d heard wrong, but terrified that she’d heard right. “Dead?”
“What woman?” Heath demanded, reaching for Tess’s hand.
She clung to him, sudden fear clogging her throat.
“Miss Fiona Reed.”
The room suddenly washed white and assumed an odd tilt as Tess’s legs gave out from under her and she was brought down to her knees.
Chapter 25
Fear constricted Heath’s chest as Tess fell to her knees. “Tess!”
With her hands clutched in his, she looked up at him, her gaze lost and searching, as if he could somehow supply the answer. “Fiona?” her voice cracked.
“Get her on the bed!” Ferguson cried, pushing past the Bow Street Runners.
“I’ve got her.” Heath gently lifted her into his arms. She was limp as a doll, terrifying him even more. She burrowed her head in the cradle of his neck, her pain palpable.
“Not Fiona,” she whispered. “Poor, sweet Fiona.”
Heath gently deposited her on the sagging mattress, trying to ignore the fact that they’d been blissfully happy in that very spot only moments before. He adjusted the pillow behind her so she could easily sit.
“She was a child,” Tess muttered, covering her face with her hands. “Barely eighteen…”
Heath’s heart was pounding like a race horse’s. He willed his panic to recede; he needed to think! He needed to help Tess!
“When did it happen?” Heath demanded, knowing that Tess needed an alibi.
“Hold on there, sir.” The red-haired Runner raised his hand. “It’s none of yer business, if I’d say so—”
“The body was found last night,” Kelly interrupted as he gave his partner a hard glare. The man, it seemed, would give information while trying to glean it. Dagwood had said that the man was one of the better Bow Street Runners. Heath didn’t know if he was glad for it or terrified.
“Last night?” Heath swallowed his relief, knowing it couldn’t be that easy to overcome an arrest warrant. “Lady Golding was with me all night long. Ask her maid. And I’ll swear to it in any court of law.”
Kelly slipped the tipstaff into his pocket. “I said the body was found last night. She was pretty ripe.”
“Ripe?” Tess’s eyes widened and filled with unshed tears. “Oh, dear Lord in heaven.” Wiping her hands over her eyes, she shook.
Heath sat down beside her and wrapped his arm around her quaking shoulders. “It’ll be all right.”
Removing her hands from her eyes, she cried, “Not for Fiona! It’ll never be all right for Fiona!” She straightened. “Oh my God! Her mother! Mrs. Reed must be heartbroken!”
“She’s beside herself with it.” Officer Kelly agreed with a nod. “She went looking for her daughter when she didn’t come home and found the body in an alley near the house.”
The red-haired Runner’s lip curled. “And it was an ugly thing. The smell alone—”
“That’s enough, Kim,” Kelly interjected with a look of warning. “I think they get an idea.”
Somber silence descended in the chamber as the horrible images rose in each person’s mind.
With her hands balled into fists in her lap, Tess inhaled a shuddering breath and then moved to stand.
“Sit down, Tess.” Heath gently squeezed her shoulders. “You’re upset.”
“No. This is too important. I need…” Her gaze appeared lost for a moment, then it filled with determination. “I need to understand.”
She rose from the bed, straightened her shoulders, and faced the two Runners like a war-weary soldier—sorrowful yet resolute.
Heath stood beside her, moved by her bravery.
“Please tell me…” She swallowed, obviously at a loss for words.
“How did Miss Reed die?” Heath supplied.
“Beaten to death.” Kelly’s tone was cold as steel.
Reaching for him, Tess grasped Heath’s hand.
He moved closer, supporting her around the waist. “You can hardly believe that Lady Golding beat another woman to death.”
Kelly shrugged. “It’s not my job ta believe. I’m just here ta serve the warrant and see her ta Newgate.”
Tess licked her lips. “Why…? Why do you…?”
When no more words came, Heath finished her question, “Why do you believe that Lady Golding is responsible for this terrible deed?”
“Certain items were in Miss Reed’s possession…” Officer Kelly tilted his head. “Such items were recently sworn out in an affidavit as having been stolen by Lady Golding.”
Tess opened her mouth, but Heath squeezed her waist, advising, “Don’t say anything. It’ll be misconstrued, and we can work this out.”
The Runners glared.
Shaking his head, Heath said to the men, “There’s more to this than you know, and she won’t help herself or us to find the true culprit by saying anything here and now.”
“You can’t be her lawyer.” Kelly glowered. “You represent the king.”
“True. But I can be her friend.”
“Oh, so that’s what yer callin’ it now,” the redhead jeered.
Ignoring him, Heath turned to Kelly. “Take a look around the room; there are no other exits. Lady Golding needs to dress.”
The red-haired officer jerked his head toward the draperies. “What about the window?”
“We’re two stories up.” Kelly motioned for his comrade to proceed to the hall. “We’ll be outside the door. Have her ready in twenty minutes.”
“Thank you.”
After they’d gone, Heath looked down at Tess. Her face was wan and her eyes glazed with sorrow. He had a million questions, but only one was important now. “How are you holding up?”
“Not well.” Still, she turned to her butler with stoic grace. “Ferguson, if you would please ask Anna to assist me?”
“Of course, ma’am.”
“And thank you, by the way, for…for being so loyal.”
Ferguson’s eyes watered but he held himself stiffly in check. “Think nothing of it, ma’am. And I will have Cook prepare duck for dinner, your favorite, for surely you must be home by then. Surely you must.”
Biting her lip, Tess nodded. “Pray it be so.”
Heath squeezed her waist, trying to give her some support through this terrible ordeal. “I need writing instruments, please, Ferguson. David Bernard is a contentious prig, but he’s the best criminal barrister in town. I’m sure he’ll take the case if I ask.”
“Criminal…” Tess shuddered.
Nodding, Ferguson quickly left the room.
Her crystal blue gaze was so filled with pain, it almost broke his heart. “Thank you, Heath. I’m so sorry that you had to go through this—”
“Don’t be ridiculous!”
“But I’m so glad you were here.”
He squeezed her tight, realizing how precious she was to him. “Me as well. And don’t worry. I’ll see you through this.”
“It’s a mistake, Heath.”
“Of course it is; you didn’t kill anyone!”
“I mean it’s a mistake for you to associate with me. The scandal—”
“Don’t even say it,” he growled. His hands gripped her closer. “I don’t abandon ship at the first sign of clouds.”
“Clouds? More like a gale.” Still, she stepped closer and leaned against him
as if accepting his aid. He was filled with gladness and no small sense of responsibility for this courageous woman. “I hope you don’t come to regret this, Heath. I lead a complicated life—”
The door opened and the maid, Anna, peeked inside, her face pale. “The man says we have fifteen more minutes.”
Pushing back from Heath, Tess directed, “Pack five of my work gowns.”
“Five.” Anna’s eyes were wide with fright. “You’ll be there that long?”
“I don’t know. Besides, there might be others in need of clothing at Newgate. You know what to do otherwise, Anna. And pray, be quick.”
After Anna had moved into the dressing room, Tess looked up. “Heath, I need you to do something for me.”
“Anything.”
“I need you to go to the Bank of Newcastle and speak with Mr. Lowery. Tell him what happened. He’ll know what to do.”
Heath frowned. “It sounds like you expected something like this?”
She shook her head, muttering, “Never like this.” She bit her lip, suddenly anxious. “Please go, quickly; I haven’t much time and those funds had better be ready by the time I get to Newgate. Warden Newman is not an unreasonable man, but he is no philanthropist.”
Chapter 26
The prison room was small and the furnishings sparse and shabby. It contained a little bed, a side table with a chipped porcelain pitcher and stained china basin, a scratched-up secretary set, a rickety wooden table and chairs, and, thank heavens, a hearth.
Tess exhaled with relief; no matter if it smelled musty and had a slight layer of dust, it was far better accommodations than she had feared. The warden, Mr. John Newman, continued the ancient practice of letting out a room in his residence and treating it as a part of the state side of the prison. The rental was costing Tess thirty guineas per week, a fee she considered well worth paying in view of the unspeakably overcrowded, pest-ridden accommodations she would have otherwise had.
Thank you, Mr. Lowery, and Heath, for coming through. The funds had arrived by breathless courier just as Tess had been brought into the warden’s office. Even though she knew that the warden probably would have accepted her word regarding future payment, for at least a day or two, a bird in the hand spoke volumes in this environment.
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