Lady Gambit, page 14
Mr Flynn did not turn around or attempt to introduce her. He touched her waist lightly and whispered, “Wait for me inside the tavern. Tell the landlord you’re my guest. Go now. I shall join you in a moment.”
Before she could offer comforting words or place a calming hand on his chest, he ushered her over the threshold and closed the tavern door.
Noticing she looked lost, and unlike his usual clientele, the landlord rounded the counter. “Can I help you, miss? If you’re looking for Mrs Pinkerton’s shop, it’s at the end of the lane. Folk say she has the prettiest ribbons this side of the Thames.”
She glanced out the leaded window to where the earl stood, his hands braced on his hips. “I’m here with Mr Flynn. He asked me to wait inside.”
The landlord followed her gaze. “Ah! I see. The earl came looking for him earlier. Sent his groom in again twenty minutes ago. Happen he’s determined to talk to Mr Flynn today.” He gestured to the circular table near the window. “That’s his usual seat. Why don’t you wait there? I’ll fetch you a small mug of ale.”
“Thank you.” She took a seat, removed her bonnet and placed it on the table.
She saw Mr Gibbs, busy checking every nook and cranny. He studied the men huddled around a table, taking turns to flick a coin into a narrow pot.
Nerves had her wringing her hands. It didn’t help that the window was open or that sitting at Mr Flynn’s table gave her a perfect view of the street. She could hear every cross word spoken, see the lines of frustration etched on the earl’s brow.
“Who is she?” The earl jabbed his finger at the tavern door.
“A client,” Mr Flynn said bluntly. He pulled back his shoulders and straightened to his full height, a defence against a titan. “I’m investigating a case of attempted murder.”
The earl scoffed. “It’s obvious she’s more than a client. It’s bad enough you’re peddling your services like a common hawker. If you must bring these street girls home, for God’s sake, do so after dark.”
“Or I could buy her a cottage and visit her there.”
The earl’s face twisted into an ugly mask of outrage. “Yes, if you must, but don’t fornicate in the street like an animal.”
“Fornicate?” Mr Flynn hardened his tone. “I handed the lady down from a carriage. Since when is that considered disreputable?”
“Lady, begad? Only a harlot accompanies a man into a tavern.”
The words sliced through her with sabre-sharp precision. She put her hand to her mouth to stifle a sob. The truth was hard to hear, but she was not ashamed of her friendship with Mr Flynn. Kissing him felt like the most natural thing in the world.
Mr Flynn was not ashamed, either. He gritted his teeth. “Call her that again and it’s the last word you will ever speak to me. Don’t give me a reason to sever all ties.”
The earl’s eyes burned with indignation. “Have you taken leave of your senses? You could have the world at your feet if only you weren’t so stubborn.”
Mr Gibbs chose that inopportune moment to bring her a mug of ale. He plonked it down on the table and pulled out a chair. “Don’t let that devil’s words upset you. Take a swig of ale. It’s better than most I’ve tasted.”
Her hands shook as she reached for the stoneware mug. “It’s not personal. How could it be? The earl doesn’t know me.” Yet she wished she was a society lady, someone special enough to appease the earl. Someone accomplished in art and music. Someone who walked like they were floating on air.
“Happen it wouldn’t matter if he did,” Mr Gibbs said bluntly.
“Thank you for your confidence, Mr Gibbs.”
“I don’t mean you ain’t good enough for the likes of them. You’re too good if you ask me. I mean nothing pleases a nabob. Their kind are never satisfied. Vanity. That’s the ingredient that spoils the soup.”
In the silence that followed, she heard the earl shout, “Do you know how embarrassing this debacle is?”
“As embarrassing as being the only boy at school on Christmas Day?” Mr Flynn countered. “You lost the right to play God with my life when you left me alone for the sake of appearances.”
“I thought you were with your mother.”
“The school wrote to you on many occasions.”
Like a guilty man in the dock, the earl muttered and mumbled as he attempted to defend the accusation. “What has the past got to do with anything? People make mistakes. I mean to rectify the situation by—”
“Trying to force me to marry for money and status.”
“Mr Flynn?” A woman dressed in the first stare of fashion entered the fray. She appeared like a golden-haired angel from heaven—all sweetness and light as she gripped her pretty parasol and fluttered her lashes.
Mr Flynn inclined his head and modified his tone. “Miss Montague. Forgive me. I did not see you standing there.”
“I did not mean to creep up on you, sir. I confess, I was to remain in the carriage until your father gave the signal.” She glanced at the Old Swan’s facade, a little knot of confusion forming between her perfectly arched brows. “Is this where you live?”
“Yes,” he said, though Delphine sensed his inner torment. A desire to prove he didn’t need his father’s help or his money. A desperation to keep his private affairs a secret.
“How bohemian.” Admiration swam in the beauty’s blue eyes. “I came to invite you to dine with us tonight. My father has business in town and is here for a week. You know the address. Berkeley Square at seven? I believe we have a great deal to discuss.”
Miss Montague was a delightful picture of perfection.
The Earl of Retford thought so, too.
The lady presented her gloved hand. “Will I see you tonight, Mr Flynn?”
He clasped her fingers and pressed a light kiss to her knuckles, but one of the sotted fools jeered as his coin fell into the pot, and Delphine missed Mr Flynn’s reply.
Dread filled her chest.
She was going to lose him.
This time, her memory would be her tormentor. Every look, every tender touch and unforgettable kiss would become the bane of her existence.
“Is there a rear exit, Mr Gibbs?” Unable to bear the sight of the graceful Miss Montague a second longer, Delphine downed her ale and stood. “Excuse me. I find I’m in desperate need of air.”
Run! Run, my darling. Save yourself.
The desire to flee had her tearing through the taproom. The landlord called to her. Mr Gibbs stomped behind, but she knew running was the only way to numb the pain.
Why had she not heeded Aaron’s advice?
Why did the thought of losing Mr Flynn hurt like the cut of a knife?
Too many questions bombarded her mind. A mind that was dark and fathomless. A useless mind unable to provide any answers.
She reached a wooden door in a narrow corridor, but it was locked. Feeling trapped, she gripped the handle and rattled with all her might.
Aaron would fix everything.
He would keep her hidden at Fortune’s Den. Mr Flynn would marry Miss Montague and learn to be happy. And things would return to how they were before she had made a dreadful mistake.
Nothing will ever be the same again.
A woman’s harried voice entered her head.
You’ll live, and you’ll be happy.
I promise you that, my darling.
When I tell you to run, run. Your life depends upon it.
“Who are you?” she cried as a tidal wave of grief swept her legs from underneath her. She collapsed to the cold stone floor. “Do not forsake me. I need you.”
“I’m here.” Mr Flynn’s rich masculine voice cut through the chaos. He thrust the papers at Mr Gibbs and instructed him to keep them safe. Then he scooped her into his muscular arms. “Hold on to me tightly. Rest your head against my shoulder.”
He held her close as he marched through the taproom and up the stairs to a room on the first-floor landing.
The musky scent of his cologne enveloped her. It calmed her restless spirit, much like the night after their first meeting, when she slept with his handkerchief beneath her pillow. She sagged against him and closed her eyes, feeling safe for the first time in days.
Would this be the last time he’d hold her?
Would Miss Montague charm him tonight?
Would he realise he had the world at his feet?
Tears gathered behind her eyes, an impending storm as desolate as her memory. But then another voice echoed in her head. One she knew and loved dearly.
You’re Delphine Chance.
Never forget it.
She opened her eyes and met Mr Flynn’s concerned gaze. “Thank you for rescuing me. I’m fine. You can put me down, Mr Flynn.”
He was standing in a small bedchamber, much like the one above Mrs Maloney’s bookshop. It was clean and tidy and smelled of him.
“What the devil happened?” He lowered her gently to her feet. His hands slid over her body to ensure she kept her balance. “Did you remember something, something about your parents?”
She held his forearm, the desire to touch him like the sweetest torture.
“It’s nothing. Sometimes, the weight of my problems overwhelms me.” She tried to push thoughts of Miss Montague aside. “Pay it no mind. We should question the shopkeepers and return to Mile End. If we stand any chance of finding Nora Adkins, we must search her file for clues.”
His brows knitted together. “You were eager to see my room. Now you mean to leave without taking a peek. Why?”
The knot in her stomach tightened. Her insecurities were not his fault, and so she pasted a smile. “You’re a private man. I wasn’t sure you’d want me examining your personal possessions.”
He released her. “I have no secrets from you.”
The intimacy of the moment fed her infatuation with him. “I keep one or two from you,” she said with a coy grin.
“Yet we made a pact to speak honestly.”
To be honest meant telling him she was jealous. That she was likely a thief, a nobody who could never compete. That losing him would be a pain she could never bear.
To protect her heart she should lie, but then she pictured the young boy waiting at the window for no one to come. The man who’d chosen a solitary existence because it hurt less than feeling unloved.
“You do not need Aristotle’s wisdom to know you’re the only man I have ever wanted. The only man who has ever made my heart sing.”
He arched a brow. “How can one judge with limited experience?”
“I have four brothers. I know what I admire in a man. I know what I feel when I’m in your company.” Though she struggled to put it into words.
She moved to inspect his room, forcing herself to focus on one object at a time, though her greedy gaze darted about like a March hare. She noticed his shaving implements and soap arranged on the washstand. The white shirt folded neatly on the bed. The unlit fire in the grate. One clean glass turned upside down on the dresser, along with one clean plate.
He inhaled sharply when she touched the forest green coverlet on his bed.
“Everything is so neat.”
“I pay the landlord’s wife to tidy the room daily.”
She would take the role without pay, though would spend most of the time lying on his bed, her face buried in his pillow. “Let me know if the position becomes vacant.”
The book on his nightstand conjured an image of him sitting alone in the candlelight, trying to fill the empty hours. The silver flask probably contained brandy, a means to warm his bones and help a troubled man fall asleep. It didn’t bear his initials. It wasn’t bought as a gift.
“Reading calms the mind and soothes the soul,” she said, resisting the need to open the nightstand drawer. “I spend a lot of time on my own, lost in the pages of a book.”
“It’s one of the many things we have in common.” His hand came to rest on her arm, and he drew her around to face him. Warm brown eyes studied hers. “Are you going to tell me why you ran?”
She shrugged like it didn’t matter. The earl thought she was a harlot, but that’s not what upset her most. “I panicked. I was afraid and heard the familiar voice telling me to run. All I could think about was putting some distance between us.”
“Between us? Why would you run from me?” It took him seconds to come to a logical conclusion. “You left your bonnet on the table downstairs. That means you sat by the window and heard my father’s vile diatribe.”
Shame’s heat rose to her cheeks. “I am a harlot. We’ve spent the day alone, but my brother thinks Mr Daventry is our chaperone. I’ve kissed you twice and—”
“It was more than a kiss. We devoured each other’s mouths until we could hardly breathe. If you were a harlot, I would be inside you at every given opportunity.”
“You would?” A delicious shudder ran through her, but then she recalled Miss Montague’s tempting offer, and jealousy twisted in her gut. “A better opportunity awaits you elsewhere. Miss Montague is a good match for you.” Oh, how it hurt to say those words. “Bitterness has made you blind to what is obvious to most.”
He jerked in response, though his hand never left her arm. “I don’t want to strip Miss Montague slowly out of her clothes. I have no desire to settle between her thighs or bury my face in her hair. I don’t want to lie naked with her in bed, drinking wine, making love.”
She swallowed past the growing lump in her throat. He painted magical scenes. Dangerous scenes. “Lust has you in its powerful grip. I know because I’m at its mercy, too. I would give myself to you in a heartbeat. But when you dine with Miss Montague tonight, I want you to imagine it might be the same if you kissed her.”
“I’m not dining with Miss Montague tonight.”
“But I thought—”
“You thought what? That I’d kiss one woman and entertain another. Allow me to remind you what I said when we met. I’m not in the habit of kissing anyone. I cannot explain what’s happening between us, though I suspect it’s a damned sight more complicated than lust.”
They stared at each other.
The unexplainable thing thrummed in the space between them.
“Dorian, everything about my life is confusing. Everything except how I feel about my brothers and how desperately I want you.”
He inhaled sharply. “Then forgive me if I take liberties, but I cannot fight these feelings anymore.” He tucked her hair behind her ear and cupped her cheek. “I refuse to fight them anymore.” His mouth found hers, the kiss unlike the others they had shared.
It was soft and slow and sensual.
An act of surrender.
Their breath mingled as they dared to kiss open-mouthed. Tingles scattered over her skin. The intense passion that always consumed them simmered in her blood. Whatever happened between them, she wished for one thing.
If she must dream at night, she didn’t want to picture a faceless man or feel the panic of drowning beneath the weight of her burden.
She hoped to dream of this perfect moment. To remember the taste of Dorian’s lips and the warmth of his touch. To remember how beautiful it felt to know that someone truly wanted her.
Chapter Twelve
Dorian prided himself on being a professional man. A stickler for rules. Too sensible to fall for a woman’s charms. Too focused to let romantic notions affect his long-term goals. Yet he lost sight of everything when he kissed Delphine.
He should be questioning the landlord, discovering if anyone else had come looking for him in the last few days. But her mouth was so warm and wet he forgot about the case, about his father’s selfish schemes, about what this meant and where it would end.
It was all so confounding.
He would fight a heathen army for her and die with her name on his lips. If Meldrum touched her again, he would string him up from the nearest bough. To hell with the consequences.
But he was too damned weak to drag his mouth from hers.
Too feeble to find the strength to say no.
How could he when she had found the secret door to his heart? Why would he refuse when she was the one person who gave his life meaning?
She broke contact first, her breath coming in ragged pants. She looked up at him, arousal swimming in her bewitching brown eyes. “I love my brothers,” she uttered, “but these moments with you are amongst the happiest of my life.”
She enriched his life in ways he couldn’t explain. “It’s hard to believe we’ve only known each other mere weeks.” He’d spent a lifetime becoming a man who would make any father proud. Now he would ruin an innocent because he was too damn selfish to let her go.
Yet he couldn’t help but feel this was part of a larger plan.
Indeed, there was only one way to appease his conscience and satisfy his desires. A way that would bring Armageddon down upon them both.
Marriage.
His father would disown him. He would seek ways to end the marriage, devious ways that would leave Dorian free to wed Miss Montague. Before that, Aaron Chance would beat him to a pulp. During a private conversation, he had stared Dorian in the eye and warned him what would happen if he dared to touch Delphine.
“I feel like I’ve known you forever.” She pushed a lock of hair from his brow, and he was lost in the tenderness of her touch. “Which is why I sense something is troubling you. Is it the case? Is it your father? Is it something I have done?”
“It’s not you,” he was quick to reassure her. He kissed her once on the lips. How could it be her? She had quickly become the only thing that mattered. “It’s what our families will do if they learn of our secret liaisons.”
Though she smiled, a glimmer of fear crept into her expression. “I know my brothers make vile threats, but I will find a way to appease them.”
“My father will unleash the devil’s wrath on those you love.” He had to let her know what they risked to spend these precious moments together. “He will do everything possible to ruin your family.”
Her mocking chuckle said she was confident Aaron Chance would save the day. “It won’t come to that. Too many men are in my brother’s debt. It gives him a power beyond compare. But let’s not think about it until we’ve solved the case. We can address the problem then.”
