“You will allow me to take the lead in the conversation,” he instructed after knocking on the front door of the house he had been informed was where Holmes had taken lodgings.
The house was not situated in a fashionable part of the city and looked in need of repair. Several of the window frames were obviously rotten, the stonework black in places, both from soot and other pungent dirt from the city.
Which perhaps explained why, for the past few months, Holmes preferred to stay with his lover, Lady Jacqueline, in her son-in-law’s more comfortable homes.
These third-rate lodgings implied Holmes was not a wealthy man. Which he surely would be if he was in cahoots with Lady Jacqueline in her treasonous behavior. The French had always paid generously for information that assisted their emperor.
Nik was a meticulous and methodical man and preferred to work with facts, but sometimes, he was given no choice but to act on instinct. This time, instinct told him Cedric Holmes was as unaware of his lover’s treasonous behavior as Nik and Angelique had been.
The stick-thin middle-aged woman who opened the door was sharp-faced, gray-streaked hair pulled back in an untidy bun at her nape. Her dark and beady eyes were filled with suspicion as she first looked at the two of them and then at the ducal carriage parked on the road behind them. “I runs a respectable ’ousehold,” she snarled. “I don’t let rooms by the ’our or day, like some I could mention.” She gave a sniff as she glanced at the equally squalid house next door to this one.
Nik was unsure whether to be affronted or amused by this woman believing he and Angelique were seeking somewhere in which to carry out a secretive sexual tryst. “You are mistaken in your assumption, madam,” he answered icily, having now decided, in view of the strain that now existed between himself and Angelique, he was more annoyed than amused. “Is Lord Holmes at home?”
The suspicion deepened in those dark, ratlike eyes. “’oo wants to know?”
“My identity is none of your concern—”
“I just wanted to check on my Uncle Cedric’s health.” Angelique stepped forward, smiling warmly at the sharp-faced woman. “He has been a little…unwell lately. As I am sure you must have noticed?”
The owner of the boardinghouse gave a knowing nod. “The demon drink.”
“Indeed,” Angelique sympathized.
“It’s kind of you to check on ’im, I’m sure.” The woman mellowed slightly. “Me name’s Mrs. Brown. If the two of you could wait ’ere, I’ll go and see if ’is lordship is…receiving visitors.” She pushed the door almost shut before disappearing into the bowels of the house, hopefully to go to Lord Holmes’s rooms.
Nik looked curiously at Angelique. “How did you know about Holmes’s drinking?”
She shrugged. “He has been consuming more and more of your best brandy these past few months.”
“Well observed,” Nik drawled.
Her eyes flashed a deep green. “I have had little else to do but observe since you chose to ignore me most of the time and then sent me to the country—” She broke off as a loud scream sounded inside the house. “Nik?” She clutched at his arm in alarm.
His expression became grim as the screaming inside the house grew louder. “Wait here.” He put Angelique to one side as he pushed open the door to enter the dingy and smelly hallway and then up the stairs and along the hallway to where the screams were loudest.
It was irritating but no surprise to realize Angelique had ignored his instruction and was following close behind him.
Nik came to a halt in the doorway of a room that appeared less threadbare than the rest of the house. But that more comfortable décor and furniture was marred by the body of Lord Holmes slumped to one side in an armchair.
There was a neat bullet hole in the center of his forehead.
Chapter 13
“Do you think my mother shot and killed Lord Holmes?” Angelique was shaking so badly, it took both hands to hold steady the glass of brandy Nik had forced on her once they were safely returned to the library at Stonewell House.
Nik had taken complete control of the situation at Lord Holmes’s lodging house, following the discovery of the body. He had first escorted the two women down the stairs to Mrs. Brown’s parlor, pouring them both a drink from a bottle of cheap sherry he found in the kitchen, and then leaving them to go outside and send one of his grooms for the authorities.
Angelique had been in too much shock to do any more than continue to sit in silence with the other woman. That silence allowed her to hear the tromp of feet of what she assumed must be the authorities and a doctor as they went through the hallway and up the stairs. This was followed ten or so minutes later by the huffing and puffing of several men as they no doubt carried the body down the stairs and out of the house.
The body.
Lord Cedric Holmes’s body.
A gentleman Angelique had not known particularly well, despite his close relationship with her mother. But there was no need for her to have known Lord Cedric well to feel sorrow that he had met his death in such a violent fashion.
Or to realize she had gone from being numbed to all emotion to suffering an excess of it. Lord Holmes’s murder had stripped away that barrier inside her, and any further attempts on her part to hold those emotions at bay.
The despair of Nik’s suspicion she was a traitor to her country.
The end of their marriage because of it.
It had all crashed down around Angelique earlier as she sat in Mrs. Brown’s dowdy parlor.
“Did my mother kill Lord Holmes?” she repeated to Nik as he moved to sit opposite her beside the warming fire.
He shifted in the chair. “He had been dead only a matter of hours, but until the doctor has had opportunity to examine the body and make his report, anything I say on the subject now would be pure conjecture—”
“Then conjecture away!” Angelique rose to her feet after placing the glass down on a side table, too agitated to remain seated a moment longer. “My mother and Lord Holmes returned to London mere days ago, and now he is dead. Shot in the head,” she added shakily, knowing she would never forget the pallor of Lord Holmes’s lifeless face, his eyes wide open, with that bright trickle of blood escaping from the perfectly round hole in the center of his forehead. “Who else could have done it if it was not my mother?”
“I had enquiries made after we discovered the body, and have already received informed that Holmes owed money all over London—”
“Nik!”
He sighed. “I really cannot say.”
“Cannot or will not?” she challenged. Nik had kept so much from her already, so why should now be any different?
“Cannot,” he stated. “Holmes really did owe money to numerous people, borrowed, I am told, on the promise of his repaying the loan when he married your mother,” Nik added. “He might have owed rent to his landlady too, for all we know.”
“I do not believe that lady to be such a good actress as to have manufactured her shock and those loud screams,” Angelique refuted dryly.
“There is also the possibility that Holmes was an accomplice to your mother’s treason, and it was the French who chose to eliminate him.”
“Or it could have been my mother,” Angelique repeated.
“Or it could have been Lady Jacqueline,” Nik acknowledged.
Angelique shuddered at the possibility of her mother being a murderess. Although why Lord Holmes’s murder should seem any more heinous than those of the many soldiers who had met their death after Napoleon left Elba, an escape Nik admitted her mother had been complicit in, she had no idea. Maybe because it was somehow more personal? Lord Holmes had been her mother’s lover, after all.
And her accomplice in treason?
She gave Nik a sharp glance. “If it was the French, there is surely the possibility they might also consider my mother to be expendable to their future plans.”
“Yes.” That had occurred to Nik too. But as Lady Jacqueline’s body had not yet bee
n fished out of the Thames, nor discovered anywhere else in London, he strongly suspected his mother-in-law had killed Holmes and then made her escape. Possibly even from England itself. He had agents checking on that possibility at the nearest seaports.
“But you do not think so,” Angelique probed.
“No.” He would not lie to her. Had no intention of ever doing so again, either by omission or evasion. Talking of which… “Might we now discuss the problem between the two of us?” he prompted gently.
All emotion left Angelique’s face, leaving behind that mask of indifference. “I see no point in us doing so.”
Nik rose to his feet. “Angelique—”
“This current situation has only highlighted the fundamental differences that already existed between us.”
“What differences are those?” he demanded.
She shrugged. “You are you, and I am me. That after three years of marriage we know each other better than we did does not alter the fact you married me because you wished for an heir and it was my duty to provide you with one. A duty I have failed at, and which you expressed relief in only days ago,” she reminded in a hard voice.
He flinched. “You now know the reason for that.”
“Nevertheless, I have failed to provide an heir, and you are perfectly within your rights to petition the Prince Regent for a divorce on those grounds.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Nik exploded. “I have never, not once, so much as implied I am disappointed in you as my wife, let alone because we had failed to have a child. Damn it, the fault might be mine rather than your own.”
She smiled without humor. “In any case, I believe we must agree our marriage has failed because of irreconcilable differences.”
“Irreconcilable—! Bollocks,” he snapped furiously. “You are angry with me because of my investigation. Understandably,” he acknowledged as she raised cool brows. “But that does not mean our marriage is over.”
“I disagree,” Angelique stated flatly.
Nik felt a clenching in his chest. “I am well aware I have not yet had opportunity to apologize for my suspicion toward you. I do so now, most profusely.”
She gave an acknowledging inclination of her head. “It is a little late, but your apology is accepted.”
“But it changes nothing?” Nik sounded bitter.
Her smile was sad. “Because there is nothing to change. If you do not wish to seek a divorce, we could simply live apart. It is not the perfect arrangement, but—”
“We will not be divorcing or living apart,” he stated determinedly. “You are my wife, and you will continued to reside where I reside.”
“Having no money of my own, I cannot, of course, force you to provide and support a separate household for me. But,” Angelique continued firmly as he would have spoken. “As much as is possible within the same household, we will be living separate lives in future. I cannot…” Her voice broke emotionally before she gathered herself together and began again, in a stronger tone. “I can no longer agree to be your wife in more than name.”
“Angelique.” Nik gentled his voice. “I made a mistake, a mistake I have sought to rectify these past two days in my consultations with Romney to find the real traitor.”
“According to Prudence Germaine”—she glanced at the clock on above the fireplace—“now Viscountess Romney, you and the other Sinners have known for six months the day might come that you would have to investigate me. Not once during that time did you bother to discuss the matter with me. Instead, you have been cold and distant, and generally treated me as if I were already guilty in your eyes.”
“Damn it, I did not want you to be guilty.”
“Whether you wanted it or not, it is what you did, and your behavior toward me in Kent is unforgivable.”
A flush warmed Nik’s cheeks, as he knew the accusation to be fully deserved. “I thought I might be making love to you for the last time.”
Her jaw clenched. “You were.”
“This is ridiculous, Angelique,” he bit out in his frustration that this whole situation seemed to be getting away from him. “We now know your mother to be the traitor. I do not see why the two of us cannot simply move forward and carry on as we were before all of this happened.”
“Allow you to continue to fuck me whenever you feel the inclination to do so, you mean?”
Nik flinched. “I would not have put it as crudely as that!”
“I would.” She gave a shake of her head. “That part of our relationship has always required a certain amount of trust in one’s partner. A trust, as I have previously stated, I no longer have in you. The thought of—of resuming the intimacy of our past physical relationship is abhorrent to me.” She shuddered.
Nik recoiled as if Angelique had physically struck him. Yes, he knew that sometimes his physical demands could be dark, even extreme, but Angelique had never objected to them. Indeed, she had on occasion deliberately incited him into them as part of that game.
He frowned. “Is this truly what you want?”
What Angelique wanted was to have those blinkers of ignorance returned to her. To not be aware of Nik’s six months of suspicion toward her. To trust him enough to be able to relax and give herself fully to the dark pleasures of their passion for each other.
Unfortunately innocence, once taken, could not be returned. Any more than ignorance of the facts, once known, could be forgotten.
Nik had taken both from her.
The former she had given willingly, even eagerly.
The latter—the latter was still more hurtful than she dare allow herself to think about until she could be alone to prod at and lick her wounds.
“The other Sinners have all resigned as agents for the Crown,” Nik stated. “If it will help heal this situation between the two of us, I will do likewise as spymaster.”
“I see no point in you doing so, unless it is something you wish to do,” Angelique dismissed. “It is something you have enjoyed for several years and also keeps you occupied. In any case, whatever you decide, it will make no difference to my decision to bring an end to the intimate side of our marriage. Now if you will excuse me—”
“No,” Nik rasped. “No, I will not bloody well excuse you!” He stepped forward, his arms like steel bands about her waist. “I refuse to believe you do not still want me as much as I want you.” His head lowered, and his mouth took fierce possession of hers.
It took all of Angelique’s willpower, all the strength she possessed, to stand stiff and unresponsive in Nik’s arms as his lips plundered hers with hungry demand.
That kiss became softer, more sensual, as Angelique continued to resist the pull of both Nik’s passionate onslaught and the memories of their past intimacies.
A sob built and then rose in Angelique’s throat, the tears falling hotly down her cheeks at the pain those memories evoked. She had loved Nik—a part of her loved him still, despite his mistrust of her—and it broke her heart all over again to realize she could not, dare not, be with him like this again. Nik had the power to break her even more than she already was, and she could not settle any longer for the small part of himself he was willing to give her.
She wrenched her mouth away from his, her hands pushing against his shoulders and her back arched as she held herself away from him. “Release me,” she instructed coldly. “Release me now!”
It took Nik several seconds to return to his senses enough to realize Angelique had not only ordered him to let her go, but she was pushing him away from her. There were also tears cascading unchecked down her cheeks as she did so.
He freely acknowledged he was a man who enjoyed physical pleasure and had a strong sexual appetite, but he had never forced a woman to surrender to his demand for her submission, nor would he force Angelique now, the woman he cared for and respected above all others.
His arms fell to his sides and he took a step back to put distance between them. “I apologize. But,” he added firmly as Angelique t
urned on her heel with the obvious intention of leaving the study. “This is not over. We are not over,” he warned.
Her chin rose proudly even though those tears continued to fall down the pallor of her cheeks. “Believe what you want. It is something you seem to do, anyway,” she added bitterly. “But I shall never share your bed again.”
Nik watched her leave through hooded lids.
Angelique did not have to share his bed for him for make love to her.
And he intended doing exactly that.
As often and in whatever way necessary, until she forgave him.
Chapter 14
“What are you doing?” Nik demanded of Gulliver early that evening as he stood in the doorway of his bedchamber watching the butler and several footmen carrying heavy trunks down the hallway.
The other man looked slightly discomforted. “Her Grace has decided she would prefer to have a bedchamber at the back of the house. Says she prefers the quiet,” he added awkwardly.
Nik’s mouth tightened at Angelique’s deliberate ploy to remove herself to a bedchamber as far away from his own in the house as was possible.
He could countermand her instruction, of course, but ultimately where Angelique’s bedchamber was situated made no difference to his own plans. Angelique was his, damn it, and he would do all and everything to have her back in his arms.
“Very well.” He nodded permission to Gulliver to continue. “Would you also inform Her Grace I expect to see her downstairs for dinner at eight o’clock as usual.” He knew this new and stubborn Angelique would not like being ordered about in this way, but he still doubted she would disobey him.
“Certainly, Your Grace.” Gulliver continued on his way with obvious relief.
Nik stepped back into his room and closed the door, more annoyed than he cared to reveal. He had expected Angelique to take steps to continue to put an emotional distance between the two of them, but he had not anticipated she would remove herself from the bedchamber adjoining his own. He would allow it for now…
Nik gave a self-derisive grimace. He would allow it?
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