‘It might do no good at all, but I must be thorough. I will not leave any avenues unsearched or any clues unexamined.’
‘You cannot possibly think there is anything to be done,’ she said, smiling in surprise.
He smiled back at her and felt the energy surging in his blood at the sight of such a supremely beautiful, infinitely desirable woman staring at him as if she thought he could hang the moon. She had confidence in him. He must have it as well. ‘I solve problems. If I turn away when presented with a challenge, then what good am I?’
‘If you can retrieve the diamonds, then you are not a problem solver, Mr Gregory Drake. You are a worker of miracles.’
He took a deep breath and felt more than his courage begin to rise. ‘If that is what you require of me, Miss Strickland, I shall endeavour to provide.’
‘That is not all I want.’ She sat up and stripped her nightgown over her head, then straightened the Comstock tiara in her chestnut hair and added the massive, paste pendant which swung to hang between her magnificent breasts. Then, naked and bejewelled and as bold as a pagan princess, she straddled him.
If her body was not enough to make him forget his impending doom, her next words were.
‘Take me, Mr Drake. Repeatedly. Until dawn.’
‘Consider it done, Miss Strickland.’
Chapter Fourteen
Hope had never been the one to break rules. If questioned, either of her sisters would have declared her the one least likely to disobey and most likely to tattle on those who did. But after last night, she had to admit that being good was not nearly as much fun as being bad.
Lying with a man before marriage was something that a nice girl should never do. But not only had she done it, she’d learned that there was more to it than just lying still. In fact, sometimes she had done no lying at all. One could do things that were very improper while sitting, or standing, or kneeling on a mattress and clinging tightly to the bedpost while the man behind her whispered unspeakable suggestions in her ear.
Worse yet, she had done those things in a bed that was not hers, with the pride of the Comstock entail thumping furiously against her naked breasts. It was almost a relief to know the stones were paste, for she would have been afraid to do the things she’d done while wearing nothing but a small fortune in diamonds.
And she would do it all again, the minute she could get Gregory Drake alone. It was a shame that the object of the trip had been to collect Charity and take her back to London. If her sister had not been here, Hope might have made up some spurious excuse about beginning the inventory of the house. Then they might spend the week together, alone.
Of course, there would be no hope of finding the diamonds if they stayed at the manor. She did not think it would be possible for Gregory to figure out where they had gone, but she would enjoy seeing him try.
She came down to the breakfast table to find Charity already seated, a book spread on the table between her cup and her plate. Normally, she would have lectured her sister about reading at the table, but it was far too nice a morning to fret over trivialities. She took the chocolate pot and toast rack from in front of her sister, who did not even bother to look up from her work, and served herself.
‘Good morning, Charity,’ she said. When her sister said nothing, she answered for her. ‘Good morning to you, Hope. Did you sleep well?’
Charity held up a finger to indicate that she was almost done with the passage she was reading. Then she slipped a ribbon between the pages as a marker and closed the book. ‘I can speak for myself, thank you. Good morning, Hope. Did you sleep we...?’ She’d looked up, the word trailing off into empty air. ‘Well, well, well.’ She cleared her throat. ‘I mean, did you sleep well?’
The question was innocent, but the look on her face was anything but.
‘Yes,’ Hope replied, suddenly afraid to say anything more.
‘That is good to know. And how did Mr Drake sleep?’ Charity asked, with an arch look.
‘You will have to ask him that. Or don’t. Please,’ she said. As usual, Charity knew more than she should. Was there something in her face that gave it all away? Was there some sort of brand that had appeared on her forehead to signal to the world that she had forbidden knowledge?
‘Do not worry so, Hope.’ Her sister held her cup out to be refilled. ‘You look exceptionally well rested this morning.’
‘Oh.’ It was some consolation to know that the patronesses at Almack’s would not bar the door against a fallen woman, should she have reason to return there. But it did not make this moment any easier.
And now the morning would be even worse. The door to the breakfast room opened and Mr Drake entered. He offered a respectful bow to her and a smile to Charity. He looked as he always did, deliciously perfect. Even with no valet, his suit was freshly brushed and his cheeks clean shaven. The gloves peeking out of his coat pocket were immaculate. ‘I have been speaking with the coachman. He will be ready to depart at our convenience.’ He was much better at hiding the activities of the previous night than she. There was nothing in his face or his posture to indicate that he’d gone to sleep with the rising of the sun, or spent time in a bed other than his own.
Charity smiled back at him with none of the sly awareness that she had used on Hope and offered him a plate of buns and teapot. ‘Thank you so much for your help in this matter. The box is almost prepared. It should not take more than a few minutes once we are ready. Shall we say, twenty minutes?’
The perfectly composed Gregory Drake choked on his toast. It took a sharp slap on the back from Charity and half a pot of tea before he was able to catch his breath and answer, ‘There is no reason to rush. I will call for the carriage at one.’
‘And I will arrange for the kitchen to prepare a hamper so we might take tea on the road. Country air always gives me an appetite.’
At this, the poor man went pale, as if the mention of hunger put him in mind of something that had nothing to do with food.
‘That is an excellent idea,’ Hope said, glaring at her sister. ‘Now perhaps you would like to go back to your book. We do not wish to keep you from your studies.’ The sooner they were free of Charity, the better. The family had long since accepted that the youngest sister was the smartest one. But it sometimes felt like they were mice in a cage, the victims of her insatiable curiosity rather than the beneficiaries.
