Tall, Dark and Royal

by Vanessa Kelly

Nothing . . . everything.

  She hardly knew how to answer, so she remained silent.

  His hands dropped to his sides. “Chloe, I can make this work. You must learn to trust me.”

  More than anything she wished she could, but trust was a commodity she’d given up on many years ago. Even Dominic, as strong and powerful as he was, couldn’t fundamentally change the circumstances of their lives.

  “You must not ask this of me, Dominic. It is too much.”

  While he stood frozen before her, she went up on tiptoe and pressed a kiss to his hard, disbelieving mouth. Then she clumsily snatched up her clothes and fled the room.

  Chapter Seven

  With a grateful sigh, Chloe accepted a cup of tea from Justine. “I don’t know what I would have done without you, my dear. I owe you and Griffin a considerable debt of gratitude.”

  Her daughter-in-law smiled. “No thanks are necessary. The girls were very little trouble, and we adored spending time with little Stephen.”

  “Adored might be a tad strong, my love,” Griffin responded with a roll of his eyes. He was lounging across from them, looking entirely at home in Chloe’s drawing room.

  Chloe and Jane had arrived in Camberwell only an hour ago. According to the report Aden St. George had sent to Dominic yesterday, Borden Campworth had been mightily displeased to learn of his nephew’s actions. Apparently, Campworth had no desire to run afoul of Dominic—or Aden, for that matter—and had instructed Roger to leave Jane alone. In Aden’s judgement, that made it safe for Chloe and Jane to return home and Chloe had immediately begun making plans to do so.

  Unfortunately, those plans had not gone over well with Dominic, who clearly thought she was trying to avoid him. He’d tried more than once to revive a discussion of marriage, intent on convincing Chloe of the error of her ways. She, however, had refused to rehash a subject that held no chance of a positive resolution. No matter how much she might secretly long for it, marrying Dominic was too great a risk—both to her security and her heart.

  It was risky for him, too, even though he was too stubborn to see it. The scandal of her past would eventually rear up if they married, with significant repercussions for him. Dominic would be obliged to ignore the malicious gossip or continually defend her character, and God only knew how the Prince Regent and his brothers would react. She and Dominic might be able to weather the storm, but the damage to his career—and their relationship—would be severe.

  Despite the aching regret she felt every waking moment, Chloe knew she’d made the right decision. Though she hoped Dominic would come to understand, right now it was up to her to make the only appropriate decision for both of them.

  “What a shame Uncle Dominic couldn’t come in for a visit,” Justine said. “I would have loved a chat.”

  Griffin cut her a cheeky grin. “I, however, am remarkably grateful he was too busy. You know how much he loves to lecture me. I am a never-ending source of disappointment to the man.”

  “It must run in the family,” Chloe said without thinking.

  Griffin and Justine exchanged startled glances.

  “In any event,” Chloe hastily added, “Dominic sent his apologies. He simply has too much work on his desk after a week away from London and was quite eager to get home.” She let out a sigh at the memory of Dominic’s brusque, decidedly unsentimental good-bye in the carriage.

  “Is something wrong?” Justine asked her after a lengthy pause.

  Chloe mentally shook herself and smiled. “Good heavens, no. I’m so pleased to be home and very curious as to what has been going on in my absence. You must tell me everything.”

  Justine exchanged another dubious glance with Griffin, but then nodded. “Of course. If you—”

  A quick tap on the door interrupted her. Hill entered, looking concerned. “It’s Mrs. Clayton, ma’am. Jane’s mother. She’s begging to speak with you.”

  “Naturally,” Griffin muttered. “A little peace around here was too good to be true.”

  Chloe rose. “Bring her in, and you’d better fetch Jane, too.”

  “Oh, dear,” Justine said. “Whatever could be the matter now?”

  “Perhaps it has nothing to do with Campworth,” Chloe replied. “It might be some sort of family emergency.”

  “We couldn’t possibly get that lucky,” Griffin said.

  Chloe hushed her son as Hill returned with their visitor.

  “Do come in, Mrs. Clayton.” Chloe extended a hand. “Please have a seat and let me pour you a cup of tea.”

  Mrs. Clayton was a short, sturdy-looking woman with a pleasant face. Her expression tight with worry, she took the offered seat but refused the tea. “Mrs. Piper, there’s no time for beating around the bush. My poor family is in a fierce amount of trouble.” She then burst into tears at the exact moment Jane walked into the room.

  Chaos reigned for a few minutes, but repeated reassurances from Chloe and Griffin that no harm would come to the Clayton family finally restored peace.

  Haltingly, Jane’s mother explained that Roger Campworth had paid a visit to her husband’s shop that morning. Mr. Clayton had tried to face him down, claiming that Jane was under Sir Dominic’s protection, but that had only infuriated Roger.

  “That awful man shook my poor husband like a terrier shakes a rat,” said Mrs. Clayton in a quavering voice. “Mr. Clayton is no coward, but he’s getting up in years and he’s no match for a bully like Roger Campworth.”

  “What does Campworth want?” asked Chloe as she patted the distraught woman’s hand.

  “He wants Jane to come live with him. Says she’s carrying his child, and she’s got no right to keep it from him.”

  Jane’s lips quivered. “I can’t go back to him, Mamma. He’ll beat me!”

  “Of course you’re not going back to him,” Chloe said firmly. “You’re to stay right here.”

  Mrs. Clayton grimaced. “Thank you, ma’am, but my husband. . . I’m worried fierce about him. Roger said he’d beat him black and blue if Jane didn’t come home with me today.”

  “This has gone on long enough,” Griffin said as he came to his feet. “I’ll ride into the city and fetch Dominic. Then we’ll both pay a visit to Borden Campworth and his idiot nephew.”

  Chloe clenched her fists as she struggled to contain the fury coursing through her body. She’d spent her life trying to protect women from men like Roger Campworth, mostly by hiding them away and living in secrecy. But despite all the subterfuge, danger had still invaded her household, threatening everything she believed in.

  Something else had to be done.

  “This isn’t Dominic’s problem,” she said. “It’s mine, and I’m going to take care of it.”

  They all gaped at her, but Griffin found his voice first. “Mother, you cannot take on Borden Campworth yourself. He’s one of the most dangerous men in London.”

  “I understand, but I will not be cowed. Nor will I continue to shield myself behind the threat of Dominic’s power.”

  “It’s a bloody convenient threat,” her son protested.

  She shook her head. Dominic considered her work too dangerous for her to continue, and this incident would only serve as confirmation. If they had any sort of future together, even as friends, she had to prove she could manage her own affairs. She had to prove to him that she was his equal. She would not live in fear, and she would no longer hide from vile men like Borden and Roger Campworth.

  She would no longer hide from anyone.

  With a mental jolt that sent her to her feet, Chloe realized how sick she was of hiding. She’d spent most of her life doing just that, sacrificing the things most important to her. Her son, Dominic, and the freedom to be who she really was—Chloe Steele, a woman who’d made mistakes but still deserved to have a life, not one lived in the shadows.

  A woman who, finally, had a real chance at creating a future built on love instead of shame.

  Griffin waved a hand in front of her face. “Have you even heard a word
I’ve said?”

  Chloe smiled at her son. “I did, and I agree with you. Borden Campworth is a dangerous man, which is why you’re coming with me.”

  “Last chance to turn back,” Griffin said.

  The long-suffering resignation in his voice told Chloe he had no real expectation she would do any such thing.

  “We’ve come this far,” she said, eyeing the dilapidated tavern that squatted like an ugly toad in a back alley of St. Giles.

  The Crow and Cock was at the heart of Campworth’s territory and, according to Griffin, was the best place to start looking for him. But now that they were actually here Chloe had to admit to a certain level of unsettled nerves, and not simply about Campworth. Dominic would be furious that she was taking such a risk, but what else could she do? She had to prove to him as well as herself that she would not be intimidated by bullies, whether they were louts like Roger Campworth, criminals like his uncle, or royal princes.

  “You don’t have to do this,” her son said as he took her gloved hand. “You don’t have to prove yourself to anyone. Not to me, not to Dominic.”

  Chloe had to blink away tears of gratitude that she’d been given a second chance with Griffin. “No, but I need to prove this to myself.”

  He studied her with a gravity he didn’t often show but which she recognized in herself. Then a wry smile curved up his lips. “All right, Mother. We’ll do it your way, but let me go in first. And remember, if I say it’s time to leave, then we leave. Understand?”

  “Yes, dear,” she said meekly.

  He shook his head and pushed through the tavern door. Chloe followed but halted just over the threshold, giving her eyes time to adjust to the gloom inside.

  When her vision cleared, she saw a low-ceilinged room, sparsely furnished with battered tables and chairs. A long oak bar took up one end of the room. A coal fire burned in the grate, and spirit lamps on the bar and one of the tables threw off a dim but adequate light. Though it smelled of dampness, sweat, and stale beer, the room was relatively clean and not nearly as frightening as she’d expected.

  Until, that is, her gaze caught and held that of a man sitting at the table with the lamp. The man’s cold-eyed, calculating stare, his unexpectedly elegant and expensive suit of clothing, and his indefinable sense of power told her that she was looking at Borden Campworth.

  Two hulking men stood behind the crime lord, eyeing Griffin with consternation.

  “Griffin Steele,” Campworth said with a harsh drawl born of a life spent in the stews. “Haven’t seen you in St. Giles for a time and then some. But I suppose you’re so busy with your nob’s life that you’ve forgot where you come from.”

  “I never forget anything, Campworth,” Griffin replied. “You do realize that, don’t you?” He sounded bored, but only a fool would mistake his meaning.

  “My apologies,” Campworth said, showing his teeth. “Who’s your friend?” He let out an unpleasant laugh. “Getting tired of your wife already, I suppose.”

  Griffin glanced over his shoulder at Chloe. She knew he would never reveal their relationship without her permission.

  “I’m his mother,” she said, stepping forward. She felt rather than saw Griffin’s jerk of surprise. “And I’ve come to talk to you about your nephew, Roger. He is causing me a great deal of trouble.”

  Campworth’s brows arched. Then an irritated comprehension tightened his blunt features. “Steele’s mother? You’re the woman who took in that brassy little piece, Jane Clayton.”

  “Correct, on both counts.”

  The crime lord let out a disgusted snort. “Not only do I have to put up with threats from Dominic Hunter’s rabid dog underlings, I’m to have Griffin Steele crawling up my arse, too? Christ, what did I do to deserve that?”

  “You failed to keep your nephew under control,” Chloe replied. “He continues to make threats against the Clayton family, and I won’t have it.”

  Campworth barked out a harsh laugh. “Oh, you won’t, will you? I’m trembling in my boots, I am.”

  “You should be,” Griffin said. “You may take anything my mother says as my word as well.”

  Chloe couldn’t help beaming at her son. “Thank you, my dear. That’s very sweet of you.”

  “You’re welcome, Mother,” Griffin replied politely, even though his dark eyes glinted with amusement.

  “Oh, Christ,” Campworth muttered. “I need a drink.”

  “Mr. Campworth,” Chloe said in a stern voice. “I must insist that your nephew leave Jane and her family alone. I will hold you responsible if he does not.”

  “Oh, you will, will you?” he growled, slowly coming to his feet. Borden Campworth wasn’t a tall man, but he had a hulking, intimidating presence. “The girl carries Roger’s brat, and he wants to do right by her. What the hell is your problem with that?”

  “I should think it obvious. Your nephew is a brute and a bully, and Jane wants nothing to do with him,” Chloe said. “I must insist that you and Roger honor her wishes.”

  “Why should I honor the wishes of a tart? Or you, for that matter,” Campworth said with a sneer. “If you’re Steele’s mother, you’re obviously a whore, and I don’t listen to whores.”

  “You will, however, listen to me,” Griffin said in a voice gone suddenly hard as stone.

  “Never mind, dear,” Chloe said as she extracted her pistol from her reticule. She pointed it at the crime lord. “Mr. Campworth, if you do not agree to my demands, I’ll have to shoot you. And then I suppose I’ll have to shoot Roger, too.”

  For the second time that day, every person in the room gaped at her. And for the second time, it was Griffin who found his voice first. “Good Gad, you’re as bad as my wife,” he exclaimed as the door to the tavern opened behind him.

  A shaft of sunlight streaked across the floor, only to be blotted out by a large, looming shadow. Chloe heard a swift, heavy tread of boots behind her and then a voice that raised the hairs on the back of her neck.

  “No,” Dominic said, clearly furious. “She’s worse.”

  Chapter Eight

  Dominic handed Chloe down from the carriage, resisting the temptation to hoist her over his shoulder and storm up the steps into his town house. She was obviously feeling as put out as he was. She’d spent the short trip from St. Giles silently fuming and casting him irate glances. Why she should be annoyed with him, when he’d saved her pretty arse from all kinds of trouble, was a mystery.

  When the servant sent by a quick-thinking Justine had come hammering on his door, Dominic had been plowing through a mountain of correspondence and obsessing about Chloe. Those last few days in the country had been a disaster. Chloe had barely spoken to him and had spent as little time in his company as possible. Although he understood her fear of discovery and scandal, he couldn’t abide the prospect of letting her slip away from him again.

  Especially now that he’d finally taken her to bed. Making love to Chloe had been everything he’d dreamed about for long, lonely years, shaking him to the core and ripping from him any pretense of emotional control. The idea of not making Chloe his wife was now absurd. Nor would he settle for some sort of clandestine affair he knew would chip away at her self-worth. She deserved more than that. She deserved to stand in the light of day, honored and respected by all who knew her, without a hint of scandal or approbation attached to her name.

  But how could he give her all she deserved and yet still protect her privacy? Dominic had been pondering that thorny problem when his butler ushered in the messenger from Justine bearing news that Chloe had gone to beard Campworth in his den. That had sent Dominic bolting for St. Giles, furious, terrified, and determined—once and for all—to get the situation with Chloe under control.

  “Well, I’ll let you two talk this out on your own,” Griffin said after stepping down to the pavement. “I’ll take a hack to Camberwell.”

  Dominic turned and leveled him with a glare. It must have been a fairly effective one to make Griffin take a hasty
step back.

  “I think not, you young idiot,” Dominic snapped. “You’ll accompany us inside and explain exactly why you agreed to that insane venture.”

  “Really, Dominic, there is no need to talk to Griffin that way,” Chloe said. “He was only doing what I asked him to. Besides,” she sniffed, “everything turned out rather well, if you ask me.”

  Flabbergasted, Dominic stared at her. Even Griffin seemed rather taken aback by her insouciance in the face of what could have been an exceedingly bad outcome.

  “Only because I arrived before things got completely away from you,” Dominic replied from between clenched teeth.

  When he recalled the fury on Campworth’s face, the man’s disbelief that anyone—much less a woman—would hold him at gunpoint, Dominic broke into a cold sweat. If he had arrived even a few moments later, God only knew what would have happened.

  Fortunately, his appearance had brought Campworth and his goons up short, especially when Dominic had stated that Chloe was his affianced wife. Chloe had started to sputter a protest, but Griffin had hissed something that silenced her impending outburst. She’d glared blue murder at Dominic but held her tongue while he ordered Campworth to keep his swinish nephew away from Jane Clayton and her family. If he failed to do that, Dominic stressed that he would make it his personal and unending mission to bring Campworth’s criminal empire crashing down around his ears.

  At that point Campworth had capitulated, rattled by the prospect of bringing on the wrath of Dominic, the Intelligence Service, and half the departments in the Home Office. He swore to keep his nephew under control if he had to beat the living shite out of him to do it, as he so charmingly phrased it.

  Dominic had then marched an irate Chloe out of the seedy tavern, while Griffin had tried—not very successfully—to quell his amusement. He was ready to throttle the both of them.

  The butler let them into the house, his eyes widening with surprise as he caught the hat and coat Dominic tossed at him.

  “We’ll be in my study,” Dominic barked as he steered Chloe to the staircase. “See to it that we’re not disturbed.”