The second missive had been from one of his contacts at the agency. The department Merrick worked for performed a variety of specialized services for the Crown, but had never been given a specific designation or title. This allowed the operatives to move in and out of other departments as needed. It also made the chain of command somewhat vague, but that usually worked to their advantage. Most often, Merrick was called on to ferret out or confirm specific information. He did not always have the complete picture, as his involvement was typically of a need-to-know basis, but this case had been given a priority marker due to its threat potential.
The missive indicated there had recently been a discovery of more secretive, lurid meetings; and these meetings were considered to somehow be a possible threat to the Crown. Though not currently at war, there was rarely a shortage of people trying to do some damage to England. Merrick was here tonight as instructed, making a contact to get more information.
He entered the vestibule, removed his hat and cape, and mentally shook himself to refocus on the tasks at hand. He would use this time to scan the assemblage for a possible mistress, but that decision could take longer than finding a suitable bride. He never bothered with a mistress before, and had no real need to now, there were plenty of women available, but the idea of having someone exclusively waiting for him actually had some allure. Besides, he thought with a grin, interviewing certainly held its own appeal.
Four
Catherine continued to smile at the gentleman partnering her in the dance, despite his knack for stepping on her feet and all but drooling over the tops of her breasts. In fact, she was beginning to wonder if his poor dancing abilities were being exaggerated in order to continue to dip his head lower in apology. He barely made eye contact. She was hot, irritable, and wanted to go outside to cool down. At her age, especially when one was considered something of a bluestocking, some of society’s conventions could be bent, as long as there was no scandal. She did not mind being labeled as intelligent, but it always sent her mother into hysterics, this season in particular.
Finally the dance was finished and Catherine made her way to a small alcove without being accosted further. Two chaperones were seated and carrying on light conversation as they kept sharp eyes on where their charges were and with whom they were associating. She stood behind the two matrons, slightly hidden by a ridiculously large palm, and let the conversation swirl around her.
Awareness pricked as the tone and tenor of their conversation changed. Catherine’s attention focused at the discussion of the recent disappearance of two debutantes. They were from relativity minor families, but both disappeared in the last two months, and any change to the status of the marriage mart, whatever the reason, was always of interest. The information was somewhat disturbing, but everyone had their theories, most of which ended at Gretna Green or some hapless bachelor having banns read soon. That is actually where most of the concern lay- who might have been made ineligible for the other young ladies, versus what had happened to the two that were missing.
Catherine made her way to the French doors that led to a small balcony off to the side of the ballroom. She could have gone to the large balcony, but wanted to avoid conversation. Catherine leaned back against the cool brick, mindful not to snag or crease her dress, and let the breeze sooth her flushed skin. She smiled as a younger couple strolled past on the lawn below, oblivious to anyone, including their chaperone.
Catherine always thought she would marry for love. She wanted passion and excitement like that of the heroines she and her friends read about. She knew many of the popular books were romanticized and melodramatic, but she also hoped there was something between those books and cold, practical marriages like most of society seemed to prefer. That is why she turned down her initial proposals. She was certain she would eventually find the love she sought. Some couples seemed to have more passion, and just last Season Lady Cerise had caused quite a scandal when she wed a Scotsman for love. He was now titled and had money, so of course all was forgiven.
Catherine’s mind wandered back to the pictures in the book. If those did not demonstrate passion existed, well… Suddenly, she was pulled from her musings as she felt the presence of another. Catherine did not feel threatened, it was more of a heightened awareness, and she knew immediately who it was.
Earlier that evening she had been introduced to Merrick Sinclair through a mutual friend. His reputation preceded him, but he was still considered quite a catch for someone of “her age.” She was very proud of how cool she appeared, even though when he kissed her hand it coursed through her like a bolt of lightening. He had caught her off guard when he purposefully brushed her hand with his lips. Catherine supposed it had to do with a combination of the pictures from the book, prior discussions of his sordid behavior, and her own imagination. But she could not deny the intense sensuality he exuded, nor could she explain how she knew, or rather her body knew, he was now near.
Merrick stepped onto the formal balcony, pausing to survey the lawn and gardens. The night had been a partial success. Even though not formally looking, he made a general perusal of potential brides. Merrick took the time to review all the eligible daughters his hostess had been all too happy to parade in front of him. A lot of money would be changing hands for the betting book at White’s for when and whom he would wed. He chuckled at the assorted reactions of horror and fascination most of the girls (and a few of the mothers) had shown him. There was not one he could remotely imagine himself marrying, but he had a prospect for a mistress, and was planning to meet her for an “interview” shortly.
However, his purpose for stepping outside was to ponder what he had been told about his current assignment. There was talk that this particular group had the potential to be dangerous. A younger agent was recently sent to infiltrate and observe. Instead, he tried to set up a raid with some of his friends. In his misguided attempt to impress his superiors, the young agent and a few others were killed, and all of the suspect group members escaped. Another agent was already missing with a substantial amount of money. A bungled raid wasn’t the primary concern however; it was the way the group members effected their escaped that had people at the agency concerned. The few witnesses reported that once the raid was launched, a wall of flame arose between the group and the agents. One person said flames “came after them,” shooting out of the wall of fire, and could not be put out. All the men who died had been incinerated. Of course those descriptions, combined with a lack of evidence for what started the fire, had people speculating wildly. It was too neat and staged for Merrick. Either the group had been tipped off, or they set this up as some type of demonstration. Despite the fire, some type of evidence had been left behind, and this evidence would soon be brought to Merrick.
Merrick turned to go inside and take his leave of his hostess, but stopped short as his senses sharpened. Although he had dismissed all of the girls presented as un-marriageable, there had been one girl that caught his interest. It wasn’t her age that made her stand out, there were others still on the mart even older, or even her beauty, as remarkable as her black mane of hair and green eyes that had glittered like emeralds in an exquisitely sculpted face. Merrick shook his head and laughed to himself. Where had that come from? He had always been able to appreciate a woman’s beauty, but was never one to wax poetic. But he’d never had as strong of a visceral reaction to another woman, especially one he had not bedded. She certainly intrigued him, especially when she pretended to not react to his kiss on her hand. Perhaps he was just a little piqued that she did not appear quite as attracted to him, as he was accustomed to experiencing. But there she was, in the shadows. Merrick was surprised at how alive his body felt as he moved toward her, and he also knew she was just as aware of his presence.
Five
The man in front of her captivated Catherine. She was glad for the shadows, as she was sure that despite the cool temperature, her face flamed with the same heat as her body. As he slowly and inappropriately insp
ected her from head to toe, she nervously tried to lick her lips, even though her mouth had gone dry. Heat was also pooling in another area of her body, and she had the distinct impression he knew it. But instead of feeling the smallest bit of embarrassment or concern, she felt alive and curious. So she stood, almost mesmerized as one of his hands reached out to lightly grasp her jaw and tilt it up to see her eyes. She met his gaze unflinchingly. Catherine forced herself to exhale as she realized she had been holding her breath.
Merrick felt himself harden instantly when her lips parted and she held his gaze. He was surprised at his response. She was certainly a virgin, one of the many he had met that evening. But there was something sensual in the way the moonlight played across her face. Her expression was unreadable as her eyes were in the shadows, but her lips told him all he needed to know. Her full lips had remained slightly parted as she gazed at him, an invitation, whether she realized it or not. Well, he had never been the type of man to deny a lady what she wanted. He ran the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip, and almost lost control when the hard tip of her tongue reached out and tasted him as he stoked across her mouth.
Catherine felt as if she had been shocked, and that was before he touched her. Her body seemed to be responding to something her mind had not yet caught on to, but her thoughts were admittedly fuzzy at the moment. Her heart began to beat faster, and she might have been able to summon some measure of shock at her tongue darting out to taste him if her body had not begun to run riot with her senses. The feel of his thumb across her lip evoked an almost involuntary response in her body. She felt her lids grow heavy and her breasts tightened as heat pooled in her belly. Tendrils of desire wound their way between her legs as she felt his arm pull her close. Even then she might have been able to gather her wits, until she felt his tongue graze her lips before his lips settled firmly on her mouth. She certainly didn’t remember pressing her aching breasts into his hard chest; she only knew she wanted more of something. Twining her arms about his neck, her body arched toward his. Her knees would have buckled if he had not been supporting her when she felt his swollen shaft throbbing against her belly. Her lightweight dress left nothing to the imagination and certainly did not provide any kind of effective barrier. An involuntary moan left her mouth as he pressed into her and she completely gave herself up to the sensations running throughout her body as his lips and tongue played with her mouth.
Merrick felt like he was on fire. He parted her legs with his thigh and reached to grasp her pert bottom to haul her up and into his hardness. He wanted nothing more than to pull her skirt up and alleviate his own burning need. The mental image alone was almost enough to undo his last shred of control. He recognized that he was the only one holding on to a measure of sanity at this point. Which was fortunate, because he heard others approaching, and they would soon be upon them. Catherine’s first awareness came when he abruptly pulled away and shoved her behind him. She was now completely concealed in the shadows of the niche, with his body further shielding her from discovery.
Catherine struggled to put her world back on its axis and gather herself. She was not so far gone that she didn’t realize the danger this position posed for her, but she was grateful for the opportunity to compose herself. She was unsure about what had happened. One moment she was in quiet reflection, the next she was behaving like a wild animal with a virtual stranger. She would try to sort it all out later, when this mass of hard, male, body was not rending her senses amok.
Merrick knew the couple approaching, and knew they were looking for their own secluded spot. And by the annoyed look on the face of Viscountess Linman he was already in it. Merrick politely inclined his head in greeting while he focused inward to slow his breathing and tamp down this unexpected ardor. His sexual control was renowned; yet he had not been so consumed by desire in, well, ever. And while his work for the Crown also required an ability to control and detach, he was unable to even call on that. The realization shook him, and not just a little. He had participated in, initiated, or been offered nearly every imaginable sexual titillation or interaction there was. So why was a stolen kiss in the shadows with an unfamiliar virgin having such an impact? The rustle of fabric behind him reminded Merrick That this was not the time or place for self-reflection.
Catherine was mindful to stay quiet as the other couple walked past, but the magnitude of what had just happened threatened to overwhelm her. She ruthlessly shoved those thoughts aside as she felt the heat begin to rise in her face. But she didn’t look away as he turned to face her, and she sensed he was struggling with the same confusion about what had occurred. She was aware that she was in way over her head, and Merrick Sinclair was not someone to be trifled with. She should feel threatened, or indignant, or any number of things, but instead she was strangely calm, or as calm as her traitorous body would allow.
Merrick waited to see if she was going to faint or start screaming, but thankfully neither occurred. He too was aware of the level of potential scandal, and even though he wanted a wife, he would rather have someone in agreement rather than by pressure. With some distance between them he was now able to regain control, but he also had to admire her level of composure. He waited for some witty remark to come to him, but the pull toward her seemed to ensure that it would be an insult. There was nothing for it, he opened his mouth to apologize, but Catherine was quicker.
Catherine was unsure of the etiquette for practically ravishing a virtual stranger, but she knew she had to say something.
“Excuse me Lord Sinclair, I believe I have had all of the fresh air I can take this evening. If you would be so kind as to let me pass?”
Merrick did not move, and Catherine felt a little panicked.
“Please, sir, although I have never made a habit of this type of behavior, I am of an age, and there is no need to concern yourself that I will either swoon or begin to shriek. The last thing I am interested in at this time is a marriage forced by scandal, or any other means.”
Merrick’s jaw almost dropped at the cool, collected tone in which she delivered this effective dismissal of him. She was done with him and ready to return to the ball. He couldn’t recall a time he had been so easily dismissed, especially where pleasure was concerned. However, he did note her breathing was rather erratic, and that gave him enough satisfaction to resist yanking her back into his arms. She was giving him an out for his deplorable behavior, and he couldn’t allow pride to stand in the way. Raising a sardonic brow, Merrick took a step back and bowed her past him.
“By all means my lady, it has been a, pleasure.” The comment was delivered in the most cultured and civilized of tones, but the last pause, and knowing grin stripped any veneer of civility from the statement.
For a moment before he spoke, she wasn’t so sure that he had not been going to take her back into his arms, and felt her body respond without so much as a touch, almost as if she were going to swoon. Catherine was not sure how she made it past him, into the ballroom to collect her mother and out to her coach with her shaking knees. She realized that if she were being honest, she really wouldn’t have minded being back in his arms.
“Ridiculous!” she snorted, now in the relative safety of her carriage.
Six
Merrick woke to the sound of his valet fluttering around his chamber chattering while flinging back the curtains. The bright sunshine was like needles driving through his eyes – he groaned and threw his arm to shield them. Before he could tell his valet that not only was he fired, but that there would be terrible, retribution, an all too familiar voice greeted him.
“Good God man, you have not looked this bad since Cambridge. What kind of den of inequity have you stumbled upon now?”
Merrick was finally able to focus enough to realize the chattering from his valet consisted of profuse apologies that he had tried, in vain, to prevent Devon, the Viscount Barclay, now happily ensconced in his favorite wing chair, from disturbing Merrick. Knowing Devon would not be going away, Merrick took a
nother moment to orient and focus. The Brandy the previous evening had been good, but Merrick was regretting how well he had sampled.
“I must say I’m surprised, and a little disappointed to find you alone. I was certainly hoping to see who was keeping you so busy these past few days. You haven’t even been around to the clubs. Jack is in town and was asking about you.”
At the mention of Jack Westfall, better known to the ton as the Earl of Rathbourne, Merrick was instantly alert. This was obviously no ill-timed social call, but a business meeting. He turned to his still-dismayed valet, “Thank you Piers, I’ll take it from here. I would like to kill him without witness.”
The valet scooted out the door, unsure whether his dissolute employer was serious or not. Merrick waited until he was certain the valet was out of earshot. He kept a small staff, and knew no one would be about his bedchamber this early.
“Seriously Sinclair, you look like hell, but that tale will have to wait. I was asked to bring you this to see what you made of it, or if you had heard anything that might explain it. It does seem to be in your particular area of expertise.”
Devon, Merrick, and Jack all worked for the same agency, but it was Devon who started their involvement. They met while at Cambridge and formed a strong friendship. Devon set out to work for ‘Crown and country” and over the years requested his friends’ assistance from time to time. It seemed like a great lark at first, but they were quick to realize the importance, and need, for trusted agents. As they always seemed to get results, they were eventually accepted as de-facto members of Devon’s team. No one would ever suspect Merrick, with his debauched, socially frivolous, and scandalous ways to be an agent for the Crown. Jack, although titled, was also well known and respected in the shipping industry and for his investment sense. Devon was all that a proper Viscount should be; involved in parliament, hunting, and the occasional charity work. People generally saw what they expected or wanted to see. There was also an unofficial fourth member of their team, Tristan McTavish, a Scot. He became part of the group last year after saving Jack’s life during another mission.
Simply Suitable Page 2
