Sylvia Day - [Georgian 02] (18 page)

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Authors: Passion for the Game

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Amelia blinked and then looked down at her intertwined hands. “Once or twice,” she admitted. “But truly, I am not maltreated. The servants are kind to me, my governesses gentle and even tempered. I have lovely gowns and proper schooling. What would I do, if I were to leave? Where would I go? How foolish would I be to set out on my own with no destination and no means of support?”
She shrugged and looked up at him again. “If my father is correct about my sister, then he is only protecting me.”
“You do not believe that,” the earl said gently, setting his hand atop of hers, “or you would not ask me to post this for you.”
“Wouldn’t you be curious?” she asked, genuinely seeking his counsel.
“Of course, but then I am a curious fellow.”
“Well, I am a curious female.”
His blue eyes smiled. “Very well, my fair princess. I will humbly manage this task for you.”
“Oh, thank you!” She tossed her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. Then, embarrassed at her exuberance, she recoiled, blushing.
Ware, however, had a soft smile on his aristocratic features. “Not the kiss I was hoping for,” he murmured. “But it will do.”
Chapter 18
S
imon situated himself against the padded headboard and reached for the glass of wine that rested on the small table by the bed. His skin was heated by his exertions, so he ignored the linens and allowed the occasional breeze from the nearby open sash to cool him.
His throat worked with a large swallow, then he glanced down at the pretty blonde beside him with a lazy smile. “A drink, Amy?” he asked solicitously.
“Um.” The girl sat up, revealing small but nicely curved breasts, and accepted the proffered glass.
“So tell me more,” he murmured, studying her carefully beneath heavy-lidded eyes, “about this secret panel in Lord Sedgewick’s house.”
Amy swallowed the fine beverage with an unschooled gulp that made him wince inwardly. “’e uses it to ’ide ’is liquor.”
“His contraband liquor.”
“Aye.”
“And access can be gained near the coal chute?”
She nodded, her curls swaying around her appealing features. “Makes the deliveries simpler. You won’t steal it, will you?”
“Of course not,” he soothed. “I simply find the idea quite clever and may implement something similar in my own home.”
Simon dipped his finger into the glass, then painted the maid’s pretty mouth with it. She flushed, her gaze darting to where his semierect cock lay against his thigh. “We will return to that in a moment,” he murmured, hiding a smile at how easy she was to distract.
Her lower lip thrust out in a pout.
“When does he receive callers?”
“Tuesdays and Thursdays from three to six.”
He smiled. Once he finished here, he would visit the space and ascertain whether it was possible to hear clearly through the walls or not. If so, he would schedule a man to sit in that spot every Tuesday and Thursday in the hopes of learning more about the viscount. There was a reason Sedgewick had approached Maria at the masquerade, and Simon would learn of it.
But first he had to finish his business here.
He set aside his glass and glanced at Amy with a seductive smile. She shivered and lay back down quickly.
Ah, it is a strenuous job,
he thought with an inner grin.
Then he set to work.
 
Amelia was so excited about the letter to Maria that she practically skipped through the trees toward the house. For the first time, she felt as if she was actively working toward something. She had a goal, and she had set in motion the steps required to achieve it. Lost in the heady excitement of that, she was once again caught off guard by grasping arms, but her startled cry was smothered by a warm, passionate mouth and her protest instantly turned into a plaintive moan.
“Colin,” she breathed with her eyes closed and her lips curved in a smile.
“Tell me you didn’t kiss him,” he said gruffly, both of his powerful arms banded around her waist and lower back.
“Tell me I am not dreaming,” she murmured, filled with pure pleasure at being near her love again.
“It would be better if you were,” he said, releasing her with a sigh.
Opening her eyes, Amelia noted his frown and the harshly set line of his sensual lips. “Why are you so determined to feel so terrible about something so wonderful?”
His lips curved ruefully. “Sweet Amelia,” he murmured, cupping her face. His overly long hair fell over his brow, framing those dark eyes she adored. “Because sometimes it’s better to not know what you’re missing. Then you can tell yourself that it wouldn’t have been as wonderful as you thought. But once you know it, you can’t help but pine for it.”
“Will you pine for me?” she asked, her heart fluttering at the thought.
“Selfish girl.”
“I have been wretched over you.”
His eyes closed and he kissed her softly. “Tell me you didn’t kiss him.”
“Colin, have you no faith in me?” Rising to her tiptoes, she rubbed the tip of her nose against his. “I simply asked him for a favor.”
“What favor?” he asked crossly.
“I asked him to post a letter to my sister for me.”
He stilled. “What?” He waved his hand around them. “All of this is to keep her away from you.”
“I need to know her.” She pushed away from him and crossed her arms stubbornly.
“No, you don’t. Jesus.” Colin growled and set his hands on his hips. “You’re always finding some mischief or another.”
With his exotic handsomeness and tendency to brood, he looked divine to Amelia. She sighed with deep infatuation. That only made his scowl deepen. “Don’t look at me like that,” he muttered.
“Like what?”
He pointed a finger at her. “Like
that
!”
“I love you,” she explained with all the girlish adoration she held for him in her heart. “It’s the only way I know how to look at you.”
His jaw tightened.
“I so missed how protective you are,” she said softly, her fingers linking together before her.
“That’s exasperation,” he corrected.
“Well, you would not become exasperated if you weren’t protective.”
Shaking his head, Colin moved away and took a seat on a stump. Around them, birds twittered softly and the discarded leaves on the ground rustled with the occasional breeze. Over the years they’d played in many forests and across many beaches, and run across countless miles of wild grasses. And wherever they were, she had felt safe because Colin was with her.
“Why didn’t you ask me to post it for you, instead of Lord Ware?”
“I hope for a reply and it cannot come here. I needed his assistance both in the sending and receiving.” She stopped dead in her tracks when she noted that he had dropped his head in his hands. “What is it?”
She dropped to her knees before him, uncaring of her white gown. “Tell me,” she urged when he held his silence.
He looked at her. “There will always be things that I can’t give you that men like Ware can.”
“What things?” she asked. “Pretty dresses and hair ribbons?”
“Horses, manors, servants like me,” he bit out.
“None of that has ever made me happy.” Setting her small hands on his broad shoulders, she pressed an ardent kiss to his mouth. “Except for the servant like you, and you know I have never thought of you as inferior to me.”
“Because you live a sheltered life, Amelia. If you were shown the world at large, you would see how things really are.”
“I do not care what other people think, as long as you love me.”
“I can’t love you,” he whispered, his hands lifting to circle her wrists and pull her arms down. “Don’t ask me to.”
“Colin.” Suddenly she felt like the older one, the one whose task it was to comfort and protect. “You break my heart. But even in pieces, it has enough love for both of us.”
Cursing softly, Colin seized her and said with his kisses what he would not say aloud.
 
Maria relaxed in the tub with her eyes closed, her neck resting against the rounded lip. Tonight she would go to Christopher and tell him about Amelia and Welton. She would tell him about Eddington, too, and together they would find a solution for their problems. Although it had taken her a few days to come to this decision, she knew in her heart it was the right one.
She sighed and slipped deeper into the warm water. Low male voices were heard in the gallery, then the door to the bedroom opened, followed by the door to her bathing chamber.
“You have been gone all day, Simon love,” she murmured.
She heard him pull a chair closer and then he sat heavily. It was that and the deep breath he took, as if fortifying himself for some onerous task, that alerted her. Opening her eyes, she saw his grave features, so different from the merry charm he usually displayed.
“What is it?”
Simon leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs, his gaze intent. “You remember I told you about Lord Sedgewick’s hidden liquor space? 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. “Tell 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 dreadfully ill-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, pulling 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,
mhuirnín
.”
“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,
mhuirnín
. 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 tell 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.

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