The earnestness of her reply sent more blood rushing to his cock. He nearly groaned at the filthy image that sprang into his mind: Livy on her knees in front of him, staring sweetly up into his eyes as he pushed his prick between her pretty pink lips…
He took a composing breath. “You will have a chance soon enough.”
“How soon?”
At her unmaidenly impatience, he had to stifle a laugh.
“You will have to wait to find out, little brat,” he said. “Until then, let us talk of other matters. The present topic isn’t helping my concentration, and I don’t want to drive us off the road.”
Her reply was a lighthearted giggle. Bemused, he shook his head. How could his little queen be so sweet and seductive at the same time?
The fun moments made it easier to address the darker topics Ben had promised to tell Livy about. He spent the remainder of the ride sharing about his recovery from opium, including his work with Master Chen. He told her about the night watch, the discovery of the lethal drug, and the clues that had led to Longmere and his cronies.
At the conclusion of his tale, Livy said softly, “You have always been a hero in my eyes, and now I admire you even more. It took great strength to free yourself from opium’s clutches. And you are doing the right and noble thing in trying to stop the spread of this dangerous substance.”
He had to look away, fighting back an embarrassing surge of heat behind his eyes. Hell, she had a way of undoing him. Even as a little girl, she’d touched his heart in a way no one else had. As a woman, she would own him completely…and the realization was both alarming and heady. He couldn’t fail her the way he had his sister and his dead wife. Couldn’t lose her when she meant more to him than anyone.
“Thank you.” His voice felt scratchy in his throat. “That means more than you can know.”
“It means everything to me that you were willing to share your past,” she replied. “Now I understand the importance of our mission. We must discover who is behind this scourge and stop them.”
The determined angle of her chin renewed his fears. He cursed his weakness in bringing her today. He ought to start this relationship the way he meant it to go on: with him in charge and her doing as she was told.
“This isn’tourmission.” He levelled a reprimanding stare at her. “I will not have you endangering yourself for any reason, Livy. If something happened to you, I could not bear it. Perhaps I made a mistake in allowing you to accompany me today.”
“No, you didn’t,” she said quickly. “I promise I will not interfere.”
He did not trust her innocent expression. Yet it was too late to regret his decision, for they had arrived at their destination: a row of terraced brick houses in Fitzrovia, a fashionable area for artistic types. Longmere’s studio was the corner property. The large windows on all three floors were sparkling, free of the coal dust that clung to the glass panes of the neighboring addresses. As a painter, Longmere presumably needed good light.
Handing Livy down, Ben led the way to the front door. “Let me do the talking.”
“You are in charge,” Livy said cheerily.
He was doomed. Sighing, he rang the bell. After several minutes passed, he did it again.
“Do you think no one is here?” Livy asked.
He felt a quiver of amusement as she balanced on tiptoe, trying to see through the window at the top of the door. She looked like a girl trying to peep at the treats in a sweets shop.
“I’ll try again,” he said.
When moments passed with no response, his foreboding grew.
“According to Pippa, Longmere practically lives at his studio. It is odd that he is not answering.” Livy’s wide eyes reflected his own misgivings.
He reached for the door handle…and it turned in his palm.
“Go back to the carriage, Livy,” he said tersely.
“But I—”
He took out a pistol. “Now.”
With obvious reluctance, she complied. He entered Longmere’s studio and didn’t like the stillness that greeted him. He cocked his weapon, crossing the antechamber to the nearest room. The door to the front parlor was cracked, and he pushed it open.
The curtains were drawn; in the dimness, easels and paintings lurked like exotic beasts. Seeing no movement, Ben crossed to the windows and parted the drapes. Light flooded in, illuminating the jungle-green walls, the splashes of color on canvas…the pair of gleaming boots sticking out from behind a divan.
Heart hammering, Ben went over. It was Longmere. The earl’s eyes were open, his hair a dark halo against the carpet. As Ben crouched to check for a pulse he knew would not be there, his gaze caught on the bottle tucked in the dead man’s hand. He read the familiar label.
