She struggled to breathe as her throat constricted. Sarah took the envelope with two fingers, not wanting to touch it at all. “Thank you.” Not giving him opportunity to reply she closed the door in his face and carried the letter to the dining room table where she set it down.
Her stomach churned as she stared at it. “What does he want now?” Her voice echoed around the empty room.
Empty. Of course it was empty. Her father was off to Lord knew where.
And Archer and Warren did not belong to this part of her life, this dark and desperate part. She would not let it touch them. Not after the delight and happiness they had shared with her.
She clasped and unclasped her hands, attempting to get rid of the shivers, and tore open the envelope. Inside was a missive.
Miss Rigdon,
It has come to my attention once again that you are attempting to steal from Her Majesty by not declaring the full amount of your taxable income. I expect you at this address by eleven o’clock or I will contact the Metropolitan Police and have you arrested for tax evasion.
Yours sincerely,
Melvin Kemmer
He had added the directions underneath his signature.
Sarah had a quick look at the clock. She barely had enough time to make it without being late. Still, she just stood there for a moment, feeling as if she were being pulled into all directions. Why was he so insistent that they’d held something back?
She wiped her moist palms on her skirt and straightened her shoulders. No other way than to go and find out.
She went and pulled on her coat. Her father’s second coat hung beside hers. Sarah picked up one sleeve, the cuff a little tatty, but he wouldn’t let her mend it. He liked it as it was. She wished he were here now and could go with her. Even if he wouldn’t be able to stand up to Kemmer, it would have been nice to have someone beside her.
With a curse Sarah shook off her woolgathering, grabbed gloves and hat and hurried outside. She managed to stop one of the steam hansoms and gave the driver the directions.
A short while later, just before eleven o’clock, she arrived outside a nice terrace of houses with a white stucco façade. She exited, searching the front doors for house numbers. Once she’d found the correct number she tugged on her cuffs until they were just so and ensured her coat was buttoned all the way.
Sarah lifted her chin, walked up the three steps and knocked.
It opened a few moments later and Kemmer stood in the doorway. “Ah, you are here. Very good.” He stepped back and opened the door all the way. “Come in.”
She didn’t like the idea of having him at her back so she stepped through as quickly as she could, probably appearing as if rushing into Kemmer’s house. But she didn’t care. As long as she was five steps away from him she was good.
Holding her purse before her she asked, “Why are we meeting at your house and not at your office?”
He studied her with a grave face and malicious smile. “I did not think you wanted what I have to show you make it to my office.”
The churning in her stomach increased and bile climbed up her throat. “What are you speaking of?”
“Let me show you.” He strode along a narrow corridor and through the third door into a crammed office. An uncomfortable chair sat before a desk. Paper stained with ink and crumbs of dry ink covered the left side of the desk. Sarah had an idea what Kemmer had used both of them for, but no proof.
She sat, her back straight. “Why am I here?”
Kemmer sat at the desk and cranked a small generator, which connected to an old-fashioned AetherScreen. She couldn’t see the image that flickered to life. The screen was turned toward Kemmer.
“I do not like it when someone lies to me, Miss Rigdon. I thought I had made that very clear.”
“Mr. Kemmer, I am not lying to you. Why do you keep insisting that I am?”
“Because a source has informed me that your father’s Rigdon’s Banknote Verification Device is functional after Mr. Latimer fixed an issue.”
“Then your source has better information than I do. My father has not signed a contract or in any shape or form earned an income from this so-called working machine. There is no way you can tax us on it.”
“I can do whatever I want, Miss Rigdon, and there is nothing you can do about it.”
Sarah stiffened. “I don’t like your tone.”
“And I don’t care about what you like or dislike.”
She froze for a moment, then jumped to her feet. “I will not be spoken to in that manner. I am leaving.”
“Get yourself back into the chair or I will share these lovely images of you and your lovers with the rest of London.”
As she turned back to him he swiveled his screen to reveal a number of images of her and Warren and Archer. In one Archer kissed her, Warren stood beside her. In the next she was in Archer’s arms when Warren kissed her cheek. They’d been taken outside Archer’s back entrance after the last time Kemmer had upset her.
The images were just good enough to show all their faces.
And would ruin her reputation if they were ever made public.
Her knees weakened. She sank back into her chair. Nausea filled her. “How in the Empire’s name did you get these?”
He shrugged. “I have my ways.”
Sarah had to swallow, twice, before she could say the words. “You had me followed.”
He shrugged. “Of course I did. I dislike it immensely when my plans are waylaid. When your situation changed so suddenly I wanted to know how that happened.” He gestured at the images. “I don’t understand why my offer was so different from you selling yourself to Latimer and Dorvee. Maybe a whore like you needs more than one man to keep her satisfied.”
Too many emotions and responses raced through Sarah. She needed to leave. But she couldn’t. “What do you want?”
Kemmer’s smile made her shiver. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing big.” His smile grew so broad his yellow teeth became visible. “I want you to turn down any contracts offered to your father for this Rigdon’s Banknote Verification Device. I want all your father’s notes and blueprints. Someone will be outside your house once you get home. I want you to stop any and all contact with your men. And I want the only working prototype of the machine.” He presented his palms to her. “And don’t worry about your precious body. Now you’ve been used by those two sodomites I have no interest in touching you.”
His last words ground her circling thoughts to a halt. “What do you mean?”
His jaw slackened. He threw back his head and laughed. “Oh my goodness, you do not know. That is rather funny, seeing how you’ve been going to them for nearly three weeks.” He chuckled. “They are probably playing a long game.”
She blinked, desperately attempting to focus her thoughts. Sweat stood on her forehead. “What…what do you mean?”
He rested his elbows on the desk and set his chin into his hands. “Seeing that two men fucking are committing an illegal act under Her Majesty’s law, they need a cover story.” He shrugged. “If one of them marries you and the other stays the housemate,” he drew air quotes in the air, “then they have a much better chance at avoiding prison time.”
She wanted to scream, to pound her hands onto his desk, smack the arrogant smile off his face, but she couldn’t move even one muscle. It was as if she were encased in ice.
He leaned back in his chair and waved her off. “Not my problem.” His expression turned dark. “I want the prototype and I want you to ensure that it never goes into manufacture.” He rose and leaned over the desk. “Is that understood?”
Sarah nodded and also climbed to her feet, her fingers clenched to keep their shaking hidden.
Kemmer walked to the office door. “Bring it to me tonight.” When she opened her mouth to protest he raised one finger at her. “No. I don’t care what your excuses are. I expect it before sunrise. Understood?”
She nodded and carefully walked out of his office and out of his
house. The steam hansom waited as she had requested. She gave directions and climbed in, her whole body numb.
One breath at a time. That was all she could do right now. She would come up with a solution, she always did, but right now panic raced through every cell in her body.
In and out.
Were Archer and Warren really using her? She’d thought their emotions were genuine, had believed their feelings for her were deepening same as her feelings for them grew with every day.
In and out.
What if Kemmer was trying to unbalance her even more?
Sarah exhaled.
That was a very likely strategy. He’d said himself he hated it when things didn’t progress the way he wanted them to. If he had any idea how deep her feelings for Archer and Warren had grown he would do everything in his power to drive a wedge between them, to hurt her.
Kemmer demanded that she destroy her father’s greatest dream.
Her vision blurred. Kemmer would never have had that ammunition if she had made better choices. And now her decision to put her feelings first would demolish her father’s lifetime goal.
What am I supposed to do?
The only thing you can do.
Sarah sat up straight and wiped the tears from her face.
Kemmer was a liar, a blackmailer and a forger. There was no way in hell she would trust his words compared to Warren’s and Archer’s actions.
For now she would do what Kemmer had demanded, but if she was to look forward to a life of guilt and loneliness, then she would ensure that her final night with Warren and Archer would be one she could remember until her death.
And she had to find a way to get those photographs.
* * * * *
Warren stood in his studio, working hard at Sarah’s painting. Her beauty and vitality, her intelligence and sensuality, everything that made her the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with filled his mind.
And he struggled to put her on the canvas. He’d never struggled in this way before. He just couldn’t find a way to translate that something else, that something different about her from reality to painting. His attempts had gotten closer and closer, but something just wasn’t right.
He stepped away from the canvas and paced up and down the windows. There was one final wall between Sarah and the artist in him. A barrier that made it impossible for him to see her fully.
He thrust his hands through his hair, searching for a way to break that final barricade, but he couldn’t come up with anything they weren’t already doing. It was as if she herself hadn’t settled on who she was and therefore didn’t allow the artist in him to see her.
“Fuck! Shit! Bugger! Piss! What the fuck am I supposed to do?”
Warren needed a change of scenery. He stormed out of his studio, through the house and into Archer’s office. “Arch, I need your help. I can’t see Sa—”
Warren had rarely seen his partner in this kind of rage. But it wasn’t just anger. Pain, a deep, ravaging agony filled his eyes. He sat behind his desk. His neck was corded and the veins at his temples pulsed visibly.
“What happened?” Warren asked.
His lover looked at him. “I have evidence that Sarah is seeing another man.”
Warren fell back a step. “That is impossible. No way.” He shook his head, strode up to Archer’s desk and leaned down. “No way in fucking hell. You didn’t see how much she struggled the first time she sat for me in her underwear. There is just no way that she has known the touch of another man.”
Archer only looked at him, his fingertips tapping on his desk.
Warren straightened again and braced himself. “Who is this man?”
“Someone I am keeping an eye on. He came to my attention in relation to the fake banknotes.”
“Impossible.” Warren paced. “No, I can’t see her being involved.”
“Then why do you think she had ink very, very similar to the one used by the Bank of England on her fingers that first day?”
“What? Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because at that point I had no reason to suspect her.”
Warren turned away and walked along the shelves, back and forth, hands crossed behind his neck, eyes on his feet. Heaviness settled in his stomach. Finally he took a deep breath and turned back to Archer. “All right.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “What is this evidence you have?”
Archer tapped a small AetherScreen and swiveled it so Warren could see. With the help of the remote he flipped through a number of images showing Sarah greeting a very handsome and distinguished-looking man and entering his house. He paused and studied her expression. “She doesn’t exactly appear to be looking forward to this encounter.”
“The man watching described her entrance as rushed and hurried.”
Warren continued to look through until she disappeared from the frame. “How long was she inside?”
“Close to thirty minutes.”
“That’s barely a quickie.”
Archer growled. “You are well aware that it is more than enough time.”
Warren flipped through two images showing only the front door before Sarah reappeared. He mentally cursed viciously when he studied her in the next few images. Her cheeks were flushed, sweat stood on her upper lip and forehead. It was difficult to make out in the static images, but her limbs appeared to be unsteady.
He stepped back, shaking his head. “This proves nothing. Look at her face. She is not wearing the same satisfied expression she has shown us multiple times now. We have no idea what her connection to your suspect is.” He planted his legs and crossed his arms. “I believe there is another, perfectly innocent explanation.”
Archer leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers.
Warren exhaled a silent sigh of relief. “Why are you so determined to believe the worst?”
His lover glared. “Because something else is going on here. Connections and coincidences are stacking up.”
Warren cursed. “Why do you have to be so fucking cynical and suspicious?”
Archer’s brows rose. “Why do you have to be so attached to your rose-colored spectacles?”
“I’m an artist. I like color.”
Archer stilled and then chuckled.
Warren tried to, but couldn’t suppress his own grin for very long. Archer might be correct about something else going on, but Warren believed Sarah innocent.
If Archer clung to his cynicism and hurt her in any way, he and Warren would go a few rounds.
Archer studied him. Warren made no attempt to hide his reservations.
Archer sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. “All right. I will not take any action until I have proof.”
Warren nodded, but he stood on one side of the desk and Archer sat on the other.
Pain sliced through him. Never before had they stood on opposite sides. It cut him to pieces.
* * * * *
Sarah sat on her bed beside a bag of papers.
Her father’s papers.
In a moment she would have to get up and send them to Kemmer. She wanted to cling to each page, but she wouldn’t exactly be inconspicuous walking into Archer’s house carrying these. No good explanation came to mind. And she would also have to carry the actual machine.
No, she had to hand over her father’s notes before she left. She only needed to get up.
Unfortunately that was easier said than done.
Five minutes ticked by. Ten. Fifteen. Finally she struggled to her feet and lugged the bag downstairs. She opened the front door and stood there, bag in hand. Within seconds footsteps sounded on the pavement and a young man, not one she’d seen at Kemmer’s office, appeared before her.
“You have it?”
She nodded.
He took the handle of the bag and tugged, but she couldn’t let go. He frowned and tugged harder, but she hung on.
“Lady, what’s the problem?”
Sarah exhaled and forced her fingers t
o let go. He pulled one last time and the bag was his. Bile rose in her throat. Her hand shook as she raised it to her quivering lips.
What have I done?
You just handed over your father’s heart blood and lifelong dream to be destroyed.
Her vision blurred. She stumbled back into the house, slammed the door and leaned against it. Sobs shook her body.
With time she got herself back under control. She straightened and took a couple deep breaths. Her gaze strayed to the door leading to her father’s lab to the left of her and she forced it straight ahead as she took her first step.
She had one last night before she had to tell Warren and Archer their dalliance was over. And it would kill her. For the first time in her life she’d felt as if she was coming into her own, discovering who she really was underneath society doctrine and expectations.
Because of Warren and Archer.
Unless she wanted to become a complete pariah and destroy her father’s life completely, she had to give it up. But not before she made enough memories to last her a lifetime.
If that added to her guilt or selfishness, then so be it.
Sarah increased her speed and hurried up the stairs to her bedroom. She didn’t exactly have a plethora of seductive clothing, but she had her good set of garters and her favorite corset, as well as her blue evening dress. She’d never before worn it because she thought her body did not live up to the beauty of the dress.
But tonight she knew she would be able to do the dress justice. Adding to that, she put on her sheerest stockings and her highest heels. Her legs always looked better in those torture devices and for once she had reason to suffer the discomfort.
Dressed, she brushed her hair. It hung down to the middle of her back and was ruler straight. None of the fashionable curls unless she brought the iron out, and that usually resulted in more burns than locks.
She studied herself in the mirror. No, not even for them. Instead she gathered individual strands and pinned them up in a loose up-do, far more relaxed than her usual bun. She even allowed a couple of strands to frame her face.
Once she was done she studied her reflection.
Anticipation sparkled in her eyes and a slight flush covered her cheeks. She stood with her shoulders back and her chin up. The corset and the dress accentuated her curves and for the first time in her life she didn’t have the overwhelming urge to hunch over or hide herself.
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