Passion for the Game

Page 37

Today he had a visitor who imparted information that sheds light on his activities.”
She sat up, her attention riveted. “Simon, you are a genius!”
But her praise did not earn her the lazy smile she loved.
“Maria…” he began, then he rose to his feet and came to her, lifting her hand from the edge of the tub.
Deep foreboding twisted her stomach into knots. “Tel me.”
“Sedgewick is an agent of the Crown.”
“Heavens, you frightened me with all your drama.” She frowned, her thoughts rushing through all the possibilities. “They will never cease trying to solve the murders of Winter and Dayton. Of course, I am the primary suspect.”
“Yes, the agency wants you.” He exhaled harshly. “Enough that they have released a criminal to catch a criminal.”
“Released a criminal—” She shook her head slowly, as understanding dawned. “No…”
Heedless of his expensive garments, Simon sank to his knees beside her, bringing them eye to eye. “Sedgewick is keeping the witness against St. John at an inn at St. George’s Fields. The viscount has offered an exchange—St. John’s freedom for information that would see you hang in his place. That is why he was not surprised to see St. John at the Campion masquerade and that is why he expected that you were there with the pirate.
Maria stared at Simon, searching his beloved features for any sign of mischief. It would be a dreadful y il -conceived jest in such a way, but it would be preferable to the alternative; that her lover meant the ultimate betrayal—her death.
“No, Simon. No.”
It was not possible to make love the way Christopher had with her and be lying.
Simon rose in a fluidly graceful movement, pul ing her with him. He caught her up and sank to the floor, cradling her in a loving embrace. She clung to him, her wet body ruining his clothes, her tears silent but copious. He rocked her and hummed to her, held her and loved her.
“I think he cares for me,” she said, her tear-stained face in his throat.
“He would be a fool not to, mhuirnin.”
“I find it nearly impossible to believe otherwise.” She drew in a shaky breath. “I had intended to ask for his assistance tonight.”
If everything between them had been an elaborate subterfuge to win her trust, it was nearly a dazzling success. She had been prepared to bare her most precious secret, her one vulnerability, because she believed in him. She had even thought that Christopher deserved to know, because he had forgiven her for Eddington, even though she had given no explanations.
Eddington.
She pulled back, catching Simon’s lapels with desperate urgency. “You know how St. John has been watching me, how he knew of Eddington’s
visit to Brighton and sent Tim to learn Amelia’s identity. If he did those things with intent to harm…Dear God, I have been a fool to trust him with so much.”
It was like being stabbed anew, this time in the heart. Would St. John attempt to use Amelia against her, too?
“I have already dispatched men to recover the witness,” Simon soothed. “You will have your own leverage.”
“Oh, Simon.” Maria held him tightly. “What would I do without you?”
“You would rub along fine, mhuirnin. But I am in no hurry to be proven correct about that.” He rested his chin on the top of her head. “What will you do?”
“I’m not certain. I suppose I will afford him the opportunity to redeem himself,” she said, her throat tight and dry. “I intend to ask him outright how it was that he came to be released. If he refuses to tel me or evades the question, I will know his loyalty lies with his own interests and not with me.”
“And then?”
She brushed the tears from her cheeks. “And then we do what we must. Amelia comes first, she always has.”
Christopher stepped through the front door of his home with a whistle on his lips and a spring in his step. In all of his life, he could not remember the last time he had ever felt this…happy. He had not even known that he could be happy, for Christ’s sake. He’d thought that feeling was beyond him.
Tossing his hat at his butler, he then yanked off his gloves and planned in his mind the best way to receive Maria when she arrived that evening. He would send men to escort her and ensure her safety, but what would he do with her once she was here? He’d stay buried inside her for hours,
without question, but he would also like to continue wooing her. He relished the idea of exploring more of the unknown world of intimate relationships.
“Hmm…” He wracked his brain in his attempt to plan something neither of them would ever forget. He could ask his cook to prepare a variety of dishes known for their aphrodisiac qualities. And order flowers. Ones with a lush, exotic scent that would set the proper mood.
His lips twisted rueful y. Of course, all of that was directed toward the sexual part of the evening. He obviously knew nothing about romance or how to go about creating it. Rol ing his shoulders back, Christopher considered a nap. He needed to think longer on the matter, but that required more energy than he had at the moment.
“St. John.”
Turning his head, Christopher saw Philip fil ing the door to his study. “What is it?”
“The men you sent to research Amelia returned this afternoon.”
His brows rose, then he nodded and moved into the room, taking a seat behind his desk. Lined up facing him were the four men he’d dispatched.
All looked travel dusty and yet they were fil ed with a palpable excitement. Whatever they’d learned, they thought it was something he would appreciate.
“Go ahead,” he said, his fatigue of a moment ago banished.
The four men looked at each other, and then Walter stepped forward. Two score in age with the gray hair and whiskers to show it, he had been with Christopher since the beginning of his less-than-il ustrious career. In fact, Walter had been one of the men to watch him lose his virginity against the all ey wal .
“I sent Tim ahead to tel you the news, but I hear he was waylaid.”
Christopher smiled. “The tale is true.”
“Well, I hope the delay isn’t one you’l regret. Her name is Amelia Benbridge, the Viscount Welton’s daughter.”
Welton’s daughter?
“Good God,” Christopher breathed, leaning back heavily into his chair. “She is Lady Winter’s half sister.”
“Aye. Odd thing is, no one in the towns surrounding Welton’s seat knew of her. When asked about the girl, everyone looked at us as if we were daft.”
“How did you find her?”
“The vicar had the birth records.”
“Wel done,” Christopher praised, even as he frowned in consternation and tapped his foot upon the Aubusson rug. Maria had been stabbed in an attempt to speak with her sister. They were obviously being kept forcibly apart. “I have to find her.”
“Ah, Well, we did.”
Christopher’s wide-eyed gaze shot to Walter’s beaming face. “At one of the posting inns, Peter caught himself a pretty miss. He was talking to her, trying to wiggle under her skirts, and she says she’s been hired as lady’s maid to a viscount’s daughter and the viscount she describes sounds like Welton. So we followed her to Lincolnshire and discovered the girl she tends is named Amelia Benbridge.”
“Bloody hel .”
“A dumb stroke of luck,” Walter said. “But we’l take it, eh?”
“Yes, we will . Peter is absent,” Christopher noted. “I assume he stayed behind to watch the girl? Excel ent.” He glanced at Philip, who waited by the door. “Fetch Sam.”
His fingers drummed against the surface of his desk. “Welton hired this girl?”
“That’s what she said.”
Blowing out his breath, Christopher considered what he knew. Welton had Amelia. Maria wanted Amelia. Welton supported Maria’s household and introduced her to men like Eddington. Christopher stil had no notion of what Eddington was paying her for, but he now had no doubt that it was not for sexual favors. A picture was forming, but the image remained too murky to understand.
Sam stepped into the room.
“Tomorrow you are to go with Walter and the others to Lincolnshire,” Christopher said. “There is a girl there. I need to know if she is the same girl Lady Winter sought. If it is, send word to me but remain with her. follow her if she leaves. I want to know where she is at all times.”
“Of course.” The determined set of Sam’s jaw told Christopher the man would do his best to redeem himself, just as Tim was doing.
“Clean up,” Christopher said to the others. “Relax the rest of the night. Tup a will ing maid. You will receive boons for your hard work.”
“Thank you,” they said in near unison, smiling.
He waved them out, then took a moment to col ect his thoughts before rising and ascending the stairs to his bedroom.
Maria knew he had the resources to help her. Now that they had breached each other’s outer defenses, would she share this with him? He hoped that she would.
With that goal in mind, he began to make plans for a seduction of a deeper kind. He wanted her heart, every dark corner and crevice of it.
Would she trust him enough to give it to him?
“The Earl of Eddington wishes to know if you are at home.”
Maria looked at her butler through her mirror’s reflection. His face was studiously impassive, as was hers, but inside she was a jumble of hurt and confusion. She nodded.
Bowing, the servant retreated.
Sarah continued to work on Maria’s hair, weaving pearls and flowers into the elaborate arrangement, but when the knock came and Eddington entered, the abigail curtsied quickly and retreated.
“My Lady Winter,” the earl drawled, striding into her boudoir. “You are, as always, an incomparable vision.”
He had never once bothered to mince his steps around her, a comfort in bearing she wasn’t certain she liked. The earl was dressed without fault in a striking burgundy ensemble, his dark hair restrained with the ends curled and hanging midway down his back. Lifting her proffered hand to his lips, Eddington then took a seat on the small stool beside her.