She didn’t like his bland tone. “What are you implying?”
Knighton placed his cup down next to hers. “There are things you might not know about your suitor. Murray is well-known for his ability to achieve his ends, particularly with the gentler sex. I wish for you to be in full possession of the facts before making any final decision.”
“He has been honest with me,” she said stiffly.
“Has he? He’s told you he wants your land—nay, needs it to build his railway? His company has invested a great deal of money in this project, and shareholders will not wait forever.”
“We have discussed the issue of his railway at length, and he and I have reached an agreement. As you see, I am in possession of the facts.”
“Did he tell you what happened to his mistress?”
She felt the first shiver of uncertainty. “Are you saying Mr. Murray has a mistress?”
“Not currently, that I know of,” Knighton said calmly. “The mistress I’m referring to was a famous French acrobat with Astley’s Amphitheatre and the business occurred some years ago. However, the woman’s death does give one pause.”
“She’s dead?” Bea stared at him. “What happened?”
“According to rumor, she and Murray had been engaged in a torrid affair for months. She, like so many women, fell madly in love with him, even though he was known to leave a trail of broken hearts in his wake. He soon ended their affair, leaving her in such a state of despair that she threatened to kill herself. They ended up at a house party together, where she was found dead.”
“Did Wick…have anything to do with her death?” Bea asked over her thudding heart.
“He didn’t kill her, as far as I know. But as to whether he held any responsibility for her demise…that is a question best posed to Murray himself.”
She would mostdefinitelytalk to Wick when he returned tomorrow. Knowing him the way she did, she couldn’t imagine that he was responsible for his mistress’s death. There had to be a reason why he hadn’t told her about this woman…just as Knighton had a reason for imparting this sordid piece of history.
“Why have you told me this?” She studied the duke’s inscrutable features. “To further your own cause?”
“I want you to understand your options, my lady. All of them.”
She rose, and he followed suit.
“I thank you for the information, Your Grace,” she said, “but it will not change my mind about your offer.”
Knighton’s eyes darkened…with disappointment?
“Then I see no reason to intrude upon your hospitality any longer.” He inclined his head. “I will take my leave tomorrow morning.”
20
After the meetingwith McGillivray and the others, Wick decided to make the journey back to Camden Manor rather than staying another night in Stoke as planned. He travelled all day, arriving after dark. After a quick bathe to rid himself of the travel dust, he changed into his dressing gown and went to find Beatrice.
Although they’d only been apart for one night, it felt longer to him. Strange, because he wasn’t a sentimental man, yet here he was rushing to her like an overeager bridegroom. It wasn’t just about lust, either. He’d missed everything about her: her conversation, wit, the scent of her hair. In her presence, he felt settled and…right.
He knocked before entering. Zeus greeted him with a happy wag, and he scratched the brindle bull terrier behind the ears before letting him out. Seated at her dressing table, Bea had been combing her hair; she swiveled, her gaze meeting his as she set down her brush. He strode over, took her chin between thumb and forefinger, turning her head this way and that.
“Can it be possible,” he murmured, “that you’ve become even more beautiful in my absence?”
A smile lurked in her peerless eyes. “Or that you’ve become more silver-tongued?”
She was like a glass of lemonade, perfectly tart-sweet. He bent to kiss her, her lips soft and plush beneath his, yielding in a way that made his heart and cock pound with desire. Holding her delicate jaw between his palms, he feasted on the sweetness of her surrender…the surrender that only a woman with her strength and spirit could give.
He ended the kiss. Her lips were swollen, her eyes glazed with need, and a primitive part of him wanted to scoop her up, carry her to bed, and have his wicked way with her. But he wasn’t a troglodyte…or not only that, anyway. He was experienced enough to know that talking was foreplay for them. And he simply enjoyed keeping her on her toes.
He reached for her brush. “Turn around, angel. I’ll finish up for you.”
He saw the surprised flash in her eyes; obviously she’d expected him to commence their lovemaking. Hiding a smile at the reluctant way she obeyed his command, he stood behind her and ran the bristles through her hair. He felt her intimate shiver in his balls, which were already pulled taut against his erection. It aroused him to do this intimate duty for her, to know that no other man would see her with her hair down thus. Possessiveness surged through him, his hands curling in those pale silken streamers.
“How did you get back so early?” she asked him.
