Lady Gambit, page 23
Theo grinned. “Why do you think I stole the box and brought it home? It won’t take Miss Darrow long to realise it’s not at Mile End. Then I shall play a little game with her. It will be her reward for mopping my brow. Her punishment for being a liar.”
Aware of the importance of raising Theo’s spirits, Aramis continued goading their brother. “Miss Darrow strikes me as a resourceful woman. Let’s make a wager on how long it takes her to reclaim the box.”
The subtle storm behind Theo’s eyes dissipated, leaving a ray of excitement in its wake. “Very well. State your bet and the sum you wish to stake.”
While the men debated how long Theo could keep Miss Darrow’s box, Delphine excused herself and headed upstairs. She needed a moment alone to gather her wits before Lord Meldrum arrived. A moment to consider all that had transpired since her initial meeting with Dorian Flynn.
Everything in her bedchamber was as she left it, yet she was not the same woman who had idled away hours reading or brushing her hair. She noted the half-read book on the nightstand, the pretty combs on her dressing table, the ream of blank paper at her escritoire.
Who should I write to, Mr Flynn?
Besides Miss Darrow, you’re my only friend.
Dorian was more than her friend. He was the warmth that kept the coldness away. He was her guiding light in the darkness. He was faith, hope, the strength she needed to get through the day. He was heaven here on earth.
Tears filled her eyes as she glanced around the room. Loneliness clung to every corner. The memory of the time spent staring at her reflection brought a chill to her bones.
Who am I?
The woman gazing back always asked the same daunting question. Inventing stories had filled the time, but never the cavernous hole in her chest. Never the feeling that part of her was out in the world somewhere, desperately trying to find her way home.
The light knock on the door brought Dorian.
He looked anxious. “I came to see if you needed anything. Meldrum will be here in half an hour. You don’t have to come down. I can speak on your behalf.”
A pang in her gut said Lord Meldrum was an imbecile, not a murderer. Both Mr Powell and Mr Bertram were old enough to know her parents. Old enough to be part of a posse who sought to make a political statement by killing Queen Charlotte.
“I wish to hear what Lord Meldrum has to say, and he needs to believe he’s coming to discuss his proposal.” She beckoned Dorian inside and urged him to close the door. “I thought I might change into a warmer dress.” Clothes had always been her armour. “Will you help me with the buttons?”
She opened the armoire doors and gazed at the neatly folded garments, but having Dorian in her chamber played havoc with her senses. Like the way his rampant hands had moved over her body two nights ago, his eyes were everywhere, devouring every inch of her personal space.
“There’s something you’re not telling me.” He came to stand behind her, his strong fingers gripping her waist, his hot mouth against her ear. “A secret you’ve not shared.”
His body was a masculine wall of virility at her back. His potent scent roused desirous thoughts, wicked thoughts, thoughts that left her breasts heavy, her nipples hard, her sex pulsing. Silent calls only he could answer.
Bend me over.
Take me here, Dorian. Take me now.
“I suspect Lord Meldrum is innocent.” She raised her skirts as if preparing to remove her stockings. “I fear we will need a cunning plan if we mean to catch the true culprit.”
“Instinct tells me you’re right.” The slight hitch in his breath confirmed his thoughts were of an amorous nature, too. His lips brushed the shell of her ear. “If only we had time to explore the possibilities. Cunning plans are your forte.”
She closed her eyes, savouring his touch.
“Perhaps swift action is needed.” She needed to feel him moving inside her, feel complete and utter bliss. “We could reach a conclusion in minutes, indulge in hours of rigorous scrutiny tonight.”
He moved the fraction needed for her to feel the ridge of his erection against her buttocks. “Trust me, love. The way you affect me, I can reach a conclusion in seconds.”
She raised her skirts past her thighs. “Consider this a prelude to the deep and meaningful discussion we’ll have later. Take me like this, Dorian. Take me now. I need you. I can’t wait.”
He growled as he fiddled with his trousers. “After a fistfight with Aaron, one would think I’d learnt my lesson. But I’m powerless to resist your charms. Bend over, love. Grip the shelf.”
A shiver of need ran through her when he tossed her skirts over her back. He smoothed his hands over her bare buttocks and groaned like he’d never seen such a glorious sight.
“You’ll be the death of me, woman.” He slid his manhood back and forth over her sex before breaching her entrance. “Minx. You’re so wet. I might think you planned this all along.”
Everything about this man was divine. Everything about this moment was sublime. As he stretched her wide and pushed deep, she knew exactly who she was … a passionate woman who would risk her life for love.
“I love you,” she panted as his manhood thickened inside her. “I want you every minute of every day. Now take me hard and quick. But whatever you do, be quiet.”
“I’ll show you how much I love you later. I shall strip you naked and worship every beautiful inch, stare at you as I make you come. For now, I mean to remind you how good we are together.”
He slid his hand over her hip to her sex, his long fingers teasing her bud while he sank his hot flesh into her. He pumped long and deep, the rustle of silk doing little to disguise the erotic sound of their bodies slapping.
“Yes, don’t stop, Dorian.”
She was so aroused, desire licked her body like flames. As her climax tore through her, Dorian gripped her hips and rode her harder.
Seconds later, his guttural moan preceded his own release.
He withdrew, spilling the evidence of their love over her buttocks.
She was still holding onto the armoire shelf, sated and happy, while Dorian cleaned her with his handkerchief.
“I’ll never think of this room in quite the same way.” She stared at her clothes, remembering the times she’d felt detached from life, so numb. Now love filled her heart and flowed through every cell.
“Delphine!” The stern sound of Aaron’s voice echoed from the stairs below, which meant time had run out, and Lord Meldrum was moments from arriving.
“We should return to the dining room,” she said, straightening her skirts and turning to face the man she loved.
Passion gleamed in his eyes. “I never expected to meet anyone like you.” He leaned closer and kissed her, holding her face in his hands as his tongue swept through her lips. “You’ve turned my world upside down in a way I never thought possible.”
She smiled while fighting the need to make love again. “You’re the love of my life, Dorian. Never forget that. Never forget how much I adore you.”
“Is it too late to run?” he teased.
“Why would I run when you promised to remain beside me forever?” Doubt slithered into her heart. Danger loomed. She felt the coldness of it in her blood. “Let us deal with the devil who would tear us asunder. I’m Delphine Chance. I shall fight to the death to protect what we have.”
Aaron hammered on the bedchamber door. “I need you both downstairs. The show is about to begin.”
With the hour nearing seven, they hurried to the study and took their seats with Aaron and Mr Daventry.
Sigmund hung a sign on the front door confirming the club was closed. Aramis, Christian and Theo were waiting in a carriage at the end of the street, keen to ensure Lord Meldrum came alone.
Aaron settled into his throne. He cracked his knuckles and cricked his neck, though this was to be a battle of words, not fists. Thankfully, he didn’t ask what they’d been doing upstairs.
Lord Meldrum arrived five minutes later. He wore a green coat with excessive padding and an ugly blue waistcoat that clung to his narrow waist like a strangling vine.
He handed Sigmund his hat as he strode into the room but came skidding to a halt when he noticed the crowd. “What the blazes? Your letter said this would be a private affair.”
Aaron kept calm. “It is a private affair.” He gestured to the other men in the room. “Flynn is conducting a criminal investigation, and the Home Secretary placed Daventry in charge of the case. Before I agree to anything, I need to know you’re not a murderer.”
“A murderer?” Lord Meldrum looked aghast.
Aaron’s nod prompted Sigmund to close the door and turn the key in the lock, which only added to the lord’s agitation.
“What the devil is going on here?”
“Who knows I summoned you to Fortune’s Den?” Aaron barked.
“What? No one.”
“Who knows?” Aaron yelled.
“No one.” The lord spun on his heel and met Dorian’s gaze. “What’s this about, Flynn? Did you find the blackmailer, is that it? Has the devil accused me of a crime? If so, it’s a ploy to make me look like the villain.”
Delphine stood and urged the men to remain seated. The lord would likely expire of heart failure if he didn’t calm down. She gripped Lord Meldrum’s arm and led him to a seat.
“We know the identity of your blackmailer.” She kept a pacifying hand on his shoulder. “The person no longer has a reason to demand Nora Adkins remains at Bethlem and releases you from any obligation.”
Lord Meldrum was not appeased. His face twisted in anger as he captured her hand. “Who is it? That swine almost drove me to the brink of insanity. I demand to know my tormentor’s name.”
The blind rage in his eyes made her falter. “I—”
“Your father stole money meant for the hospital’s relocation,” Dorian said, his gaze meeting hers in silent reassurance. “If you want to draw attention to that fact, then we’ll prosecute the blackmailer, and you can have your day in court.”
Lord Meldrum paled.
“While you’re considering your position,” Dorian continued, his furious glare fixed on their joined hands, “you will release Miss Chance before I break your fingers.”
Noting Dorian’s vehemence, the lord turned to Aaron. “If you’ve caught the blackmailer, then why the hostility? I had nothing to do with the attack on your family. What else can I do to persuade you I’m innocent?”
Aaron’s dark gaze sent a chill through the room. “You can answer Flynn’s questions. The mounting evidence suggests you’ve plotted to have my sister killed. If you want to leave here alive, cease with the bravado and tell the damn truth.”
Silence descended.
The lord sat, shaking his head in confusion.
Dorian rose and perched on the corner of Aaron’s imposing desk. “Who knows you’re being blackmailed?”
The lord swallowed. “No one. Well, perhaps my butler, though he wouldn’t dare disgrace the household.”
“And Bertie,” Delphine said.
“Yes, and Bertie, but I trust him implicitly.”
“How long have you been friends?” She supposed it must be almost a decade if they met on Lord Meldrum’s Grand Tour.
“Nine years.” He frowned, clearly wondering why it was relevant. “We met in Geneva and again in Turin. I remember remarking it was strange, not strange we visited the same destinations, but that we’d chosen the same hotels. We exchanged letters while he travelled the Continent, but he returned to London when my father died.”
“That was three years ago,” Mr Daventry said from a shadowed corner of the room. “I presume he didn’t remain in town.”
“No, Bertie rarely stays in one place for long.” Tired of answering what he surely perceived were pointless questions, he said, “What has my friendship with Bertie got to do with anything? You said there’s evidence to suggest I’m guilty of a crime.”
“Nora Adkins came here last night.” Dorian folded his arms across his chest. “She said you released her from Bethlem, that you gave her the pistol she used to threaten Miss Chance. According to the records, you’ve visited Nora’s cell frequently the last few weeks.”
“That makes you an accessory to attempted murder,” Daventry added. “Worse still, Nora was part of an assassination plot, so I suppose we could charge you with a crime against the Crown.”
Lord Meldrum shot off the chair. “No!”
Fearing what he would do, Dorian grabbed the lord by his cravat. “I suggest you start talking. Even a peer can hang for treason.”
“Wait! Wait!” Lord Meldrum raised his hands, his breath coming in shallow pants. “There’s been a misunderstanding. Allow me to explain.”
Dorian threw the devil back in the seat. “Did you conspire with Powell to free Nora from Bethlem?”
“Yes, but the woman is mad.” He scrubbed his face with his hand. “I presumed she’d be dead within a day, and then I’d be free from the blackmailer. Bertie said I needed to deal with the matter swiftly, and Powell feared the board would learn he’d been taking bribes.”
“So you gave her a weapon?” Aaron said incredulously.
“It was Bertie’s idea. He said she would most likely shoot herself, or she’d wave it about in the street and come a cropper.”
One look at this pathetic fool made Delphine glad her brothers were rogues. She looked at Dorian, butterflies fluttering in her belly. There was something attractive about a man who knew his own mind.
“Do you do everything Mr Bertram says?”
“I trust his advice.”
“Did he ever go with you to Bethlem?” she said.
He hesitated before saying, “Twice. We let him talk to Nora, hoping she’d tell him why someone wanted her kept locked away.”
“His name isn’t in the visitors’ book,” Dorian snapped.
“He used an alias.”
For long, drawn-out seconds, no one spoke.
One could almost hear the cogs turning in everyone’s mind.
Something Lord Meldrum said earlier roused her interest. “You said Mr Powell has been taking bribes. What did you mean?”
The lord shrugged. “Powell said the blackmailer contacted him directly. He threatened to report him to the board if he didn’t keep Nora’s incarceration a secret. Powell was to inform him if she had any visitors or mentioned any names.”
After confessing all today, Mrs Haggert would have told them if she had written to Mr Powell.
“Did you ever check the letters Mr Powell received against the letters from the blackmailer?”
The lord shook his head. “Why would I? No one else knew I was being blackmailed. It’s obviously the same person.”
For a man of thirty, Lord Meldrum was stupid and naive.
Could he not see that Bertie had been using him?
“What else did Bertie tell you to do?” she said before raising a hand to stall him. “Let me guess. He advised you to elope with me. He urged you to write to my brother.”
Lord Meldrum’s cheeks flushed. “Well, yes. He said it was the most logical solution to my problems. Indeed, why would you not want to marry a peer?”
“Because she’s marrying me,” Dorian said, resolute.
“You haven’t asked me yet, Mr Flynn.” She would marry him in a heartbeat. “I suggest you find the courage soon.” Before an accident occurred and she found herself with child.
“I’ve courage abound, madam. As you’ve recently been made aware.” Was he referring to their illicit encounter upstairs or his fight with Aaron?
Mr Daventry stood suddenly and took centre stage. “There is another solution to your problems, Meldrum. One that would persuade Aaron Chance to wipe your debts to the club and ensure this blackmail business never surfaces.”
Lord Meldrum clasped his hands together in prayer. “I’ll do anything you ask of me. I mean to clear my name and make a new life. Bertie suggests visiting India for—”
“For goodness sake, man,” Aaron cried. “Bertram is the damn problem. He murdered Delphine’s parents. He’s the reason you’re being blackmailed. I’ll wager he’s the one who wrote to Powell.”
Lord Meldrum frowned. “It can’t be Bertie. In the absence of family, he’s to inherit my house in Mayfair along with any personal effects. Why would he encourage me to marry Miss Chance if he’d benefit from my death?”
“Because he wants you to clear your debts before he murders you and your wife,” Mr Daventry said calmly. “Allow us to prove it to you.” He waited for the peer to nod before continuing. “Do you agree to abide by the plan?”
“What is the plan?”
“You must send a note to Bertram telling him that you’re leaving London with Miss Chance. Say you’re staying at the Belle Sauvage in Ludgate Hill tonight and heading to Scotland in the morning. Say you had to act quickly before Aaron Chance changed his mind. Mention Miss Chance has her own room, but you hope to consummate your union tonight.”
Dorian turned his head sharply as if reeling from a slap.
“But I’m not really going to Scotland?”
“No!” Aaron muttered a curse. “We’ll wait for him to arrive. I assure you, he will come if he thinks Delphine is in a room alone.”
Dorian wasn’t convinced. “Someone needs to remain here and ensure Miss Chance is safe. Bertram might guess it’s a trap and come looking for her at Fortune’s Den.”
Mr Daventry looked at Dorian and gave an amused snort. “If Bertram smells a rat, he will be on the next boat to Madras. No. Miss Chance will be waiting in the room at the Belle Sauvage. We can’t risk anything going wrong.”
Aaron and Dorian jumped to attention, their protests so loud she could hardly hear herself think.
“I will do as Mr Daventry asks,” she cried, silencing the men. “I will lure Mr Bertram to the Belle Sauvage. I owe it to my parents to see this matter through to the bitter end.”
She would ensure Mr Bertram never forgot the name Caterina Chadwick. The child he tried to use so cruelly had returned to have her vengeance. Though if she survived the night, she would take a new identity. A name that was destined to be hers. She just had to pray she lived long enough to become Delphine Flynn.
