by Clee, Adele
Bower burst into the boathouse, water dripping from his hair and clothes. The boatmen hurried to his aid. Mr Wycliff appeared, too, and while they all warmed themselves by the brazier, the conversation turned to justice, to punishing Warner.
Taking Mr Trent’s and Mr Wycliff’s vehicles, they left Lambeth in search of Peel. They called at his home in Stanhope Street. With his wife and children staying at Lulworth, they found the Home Secretary working late in his office.
Peel was extremely interested to hear her father’s views on the cause of the riot at Smithfield Market. He listened intently to all the evidence, to the sworn testimonies from four illegitimate sons of powerful aristocrats. Listened as Lucius spoke about the corruption at Bow Street. Peel ordered a search of the river near Bishop’s Walk, had Mr Warner taken into custody. Promised to keep them informed.
Outside the office, Lucius thanked Mr Wycliff, Mr Trent and Mr Cavanagh for coming to Sybil’s aid. Before leaving, Angus gave Lucius his direction should he ever find himself north of the border. Finally, Sybil and Lucius were alone in a hackney heading to Brook Street.
Lucius stared out of the window, though there was nothing to see but passing shadows in the gloom. There was no need for her to return to Bronygarth now. That thought roused a pain so intense she fought to breathe.
“You’re quiet,” she said, waiting for a sign of encouragement, a sign to say he wanted her to dart across the carriage and fall into his arms.
He turned to look at her. “I’m so tired. Tired of living in the past. Tired of chasing devious devils.”
“Tired of me?”
His gaze softened. “Sybil, I could never tire of you. I imagine you’ll still excite me when I’m in my dotage.” And there it was, that warm, sensual tone that said he needed her. The words that spoke of a long and happy future.
It gave her the courage to be bold.
“When you’re old and frail will you still pull me into your lap? Will you still examine my stockings? Will you still make love to me with such passion, such skill?”
“Trust me. I shall pleasure you until I draw my last breath.”
“Might you have the strength to examine my stockings now?” She studied his labourer’s clothes, the dark stubble covering his strong jaw, and found the rugged Lucius Daventry just as appealing. “Might you reassure me all is well?”
He reached out to her.
Her heart lurched upon noting the rope burns circling his wrist. But she slipped her hand into his and came to sit astride him.
This time, their kiss spoke of a different hunger. A need to feed the soul-deep ache. A need to nourish the beautiful dream. He made love to her mouth in the slow, tender way that had her holding him tight, never wanting to let go.
“Marry me,” she said, breaking contact. “I don’t want to return to Half Moon Street. I want to stay with you at Bronygarth.” She swallowed down her nerves. “I want to be your wife, bear your children. I want to love you for the rest of my life.”
Water welled in his eyes, and he swallowed so many times she lost count. He clasped her face in his hands. “You’re the love of my life. The only woman I have ever wanted. I’d planned to ask you the same question, but you beat me to it, impatient minx.”
“Does that mean you accept my proposal?”
“Love, I’d marry you right here, right now, were it possible.” His open-mouthed kiss curled her toes. Indeed, she needed to feel him filling her body, needed to feel locked in his primal embrace. “I can apply at the registry for a common license unless you wish to wait and marry in St George’s.”
“Whatever is quickest. I don’t care about pomp and ceremony.”
He kissed her again, so deeply his earthy essence infused her being. “God, I’m so in love with you. Though when Atticus asked me to take care of you, I’m not sure this was what he had in mind.”
Sybil suspected things had developed exactly as her father had planned. “My father was obsessed with the truth. Perhaps he always knew we would suit.”
“Perhaps he hoped for something better for his daughter,” he said, yet his sinful smirk said he was teasing. “After all, who wants to fight for the truth and chase villains across town? Who wants to marry a scandalous rogue and make passionate love in a haunted castle?”
Sybil smiled. “Who indeed?”
Epilogue
Bronygarth - Twelve Months Later
Lucius held his son close to his bare chest and rocked him gently as it seemed to bring them both comfort. “You’re like your father,” he whispered. “You like being held, like the warm feeling that comes with knowing you’re loved.” He kissed the babe’s head, crossed the room to glance into the other crib. “Come, see how peacefully your brother sleeps.”
Love filled his heart as he stared at his son, Atticus, sleeping with the calm spirit of his namesake. A man could ask for nothing more than one healthy child. Sybil had given him the gift of twins.
“Mrs Timms thinks you should leave Lucius to cry in his crib.” Sybil’s soft voice drifted through the darkness.
He glanced up and saw his wife standing at the adjoining door, dressed in nothing but his shirt, her copper curls cascading over her shoulders. Lovelust flared. That was his name for the overpowering mix of emotions that took command of him whenever their gazes locked.
“Mrs Timms thinks our sons should sleep in the east wing, too.” He placed his namesake gently into the crib. “I have a mind to tell the nursemaid to dunk her head in the horse trough. The woman thinks love is an affliction.”
“Not everyone thinks as we do,” she said as he closed the gap between them. “But you should get some rest. We need to leave for Bideford Park at eight. We said we would be there when the first boys arrive.”
The Duke of Melverley had died within days of Julia Dunwoody. The same day the steward was found mysteriously dead in a cell in Newgate. The entailed estate in Surrey and the townhouse in Grosvenor Square went to the duke’s coxcomb cousin. Lucius inherited everything else, numerous properties, jewels, paintings, a stable of Arabian stallions and the dreaded Bideford Park.
“You’ve spent months hiring the right tutors, the right housemasters,” she continued, “forward-thinking men who will embrace the illegitimate sons of the aristocracy, not belittle them. It’s only right we show our support tomorrow.”
And they would.
He’d been ready to raze the house to the ground. But Sybil said that the measure of a person was how they dealt with difficult situations. Turn the nightmare into a dream, she had urged. And he had. He had opened another school, too, one for lost and lonely boys left to wander the streets. He’d used his father’s money to support men who wished to train as doctors and solicitors. And there was still so much more to do if he hoped to make his sons proud. Make his wife proud. To leave a positive mark on the world.
But for now, he wasn’t interested in what tomorrow would bring. Now, he wanted to make love to his wife.
“I like it when you wear my shirt,” he said, dismissing the call to let sense prevail. He slid his arm around her waist, feeling every soft curve through the fine lawn. He kissed her deeply, his cock hardening as she slipped her warm tongue over his.
“I don’t suppose you know what’s significant about today.” She arched a brow as she pulled away from him. “It doesn’t matter if you don’t remember.”
Damn. Mild panic fluttered in his chest.
He knew he hadn’t forgotten her birthday.
“Think.” Sybil placed her hand on his bare chest, the tips of her fingers gliding over his left nipple, teasing it to peak. “What were we doing this day last year?”
“It’s not our anniversary. That’s in ten days.”
“Not our wedding anniversary, no.”
From the playful glint in her eyes, from the intimate way she touched him, the answer became apparent. “You gave me the first of many precious gifts a year ago today,” he said.
“Indeed.”
“Doe
s that mean you wish to celebrate?” Hell, he did. He reached under the shirt to clasp her bare buttock lest she mistake his intention.
“It’s past midnight. We have to leave for Bideford Park at eight.” The husky tone of her voice said she wanted him.
“If I remember rightly, this time last year we barely slept at all. The next day, we still managed to visit Newberry, the Wycliffs and make love in a carriage on the way home.” And she’d professed her love in the dark confines of his vehicle. Oh, that was another anniversary to celebrate.
“Hmm. We did.” She pursed her lips as she continued massaging his chest. “Would you indulge me? Would you mind if we played a little game?”
“Love, I would walk over hot coals if I thought it would make you happy.”
She giggled, barely able to contain her excitement. “Then put on your shirt.” Unabashed she drew the shirt over her head and gave it to him. “Wait for me in our attic room.”
God, she was beautiful. Her breasts were heavier now, but he had no complaint. “You present me with your naked body and expect me to leave?”
She pushed him towards the door. “If you want to make love to me, Mr Daventry, you will have to pander to my whims.”
Lovelust burned in his veins. He threw on his shirt, padded from the bedchamber and climbed the attic stairs.
On Sybil’s instructions, nothing in the room had changed. Jonah had brought up an ottoman filled with pillows and blankets, and Lucius had placed the books back on the shelves. Everything else remained the same.
He relaxed on the chaise as he had done on that stormy night a year ago. Then, his thoughts had been dark, angry, confused. After the heated kiss in the library, he’d been battling with his conscience. After meeting his mother in the mews, he had not been able to calm the rage.
And then an angel had appeared to soothe him with her celestial body. An angel who brought light to his life, a light that had never dimmed.
He glanced at the door, wondering what kept her.
Tonight brought another anniversary of sorts. A year had passed since he had trusted Damian Wycliff and accepted Dermot Flannery’s assistance. Sybil had convinced him of the need to share the burden of the Order. There were ways to focus on the truth without keeping secrets. And so he had rented an office, hired four ruthless gentlemen to investigate cases where clients lacked the funds to pay. Men whose grievances with the aristocracy gave them a hunger for justice. Dangerous men eager for a challenge.
“Lucius.” Sybil’s voice drew his gaze to the door. She entered the room, looking exactly as she had that night. Indeed, his heart skipped a beat as erotic memories flooded his mind.
“I see this is an accurate representation,” he said, his hungry gaze sliding over the green silk gown, moving to the swell of her breasts and the teasing pearl choker.
“Not quite. The gown is a little tight.”
“I find I’m rather obsessed with your curves.”
“And I thought to focus on the one thing missing from our first passionate encounter.”
Masculine pride forced him to say, “Trust me. I missed nothing. There wasn’t an inch of your body I didn’t pleasure.” God, he’d been so damn ravenous.
With a gentle sway of her hips, she walked towards him. “May I sit?”
He didn’t attempt to move from his lounging position. “Yes. You may sit on me.”
She dropped into his lap. “You must be thirsty.”
“Parched.”
“I’m told Ashby has the right idea.”
“I wouldn’t know.” Ashby and Miriam had resigned their positions, and with a little financial assistance had opened a servants’ registry.
Sybil gave a cheeky grin as she raised the hem of her gown to reveal white silk stockings. “They’re extremely expensive. Would you care to examine them?”
Lucius struggled to contain his raging lovelust. “It’s only right I do. A husband must determine if his wife is frivolous.”
She captured his hand and brought it to rest on her thigh. “Your wife is frivolous and downright reckless, sir.”
“Reckless and utterly adorable.”
She edged his hand up past the top of her stockings. “This is the moment where I kiss you. The moment where you rouse those delicious tingles.”
“This is the moment where we add something new to the memory.” He’d known he was in love with her when he first thrust into her body, but hadn’t the courage to say the words. “The last year has been the best of my life.”
She smiled. “Mine, too. And we shall have many more to come.”
“Words cannot explain how much I love you. You saved me from a miserable existence.”
She cupped his cheek and kissed him softly on the mouth. “You’re everything I could want in a husband. Know that you’re loved beyond measure.”
The warm glow in his chest radiated. “I don’t think we have any worries about arriving on time tomorrow. I’m so damn hard for you, this will be over quickly.”
“You should be optimistic, Mr Daventry,” she said, sliding his hand between her damp thighs.
“Optimistic?”
“You might make love to me twice.”
Thank you for reading The Mystery of Mr Daventry.
Sadly, that’s the end of this series … but not the end for Lucius Daventry or the four unconventional men he hired to solve new cases.
Meet the first intrepid hero and the woman who sends his world spinning in …
Dauntless
Gentlemen of The Order - Book 1
Coming soon!
Books by Adele Clee
To Save a Sinner
A Curse of the Heart
What Every Lord Wants
The Secret To Your Surrender
A Simple Case of Seduction
Anything for Love Series
What You Desire
What You Propose
What You Deserve
What You Promised
Lost Ladies of London
The Mysterious Miss Flint
The Deceptive Lady Darby
The Scandalous Lady Sandford
The Daring Miss Darcy
Avenging Lords
At Last the Rogue Returns
A Wicked Wager
Valentine’s Vow
A Gentleman’s Curse
Scandalous Sons
And the Widow Wore Scarlet
The Mark of a Rogue
When Scandal Came to Town
The Mystery of Mr Daventry
