“When …?”
“When I work out what the devil I’m doing.”
Jack laughed and shook his head. “I’ll come down and see you two off in the morning.”
“Have you formed any ideas about Lord Butterstone’s killer?”
“Early days, Harry. But we have learned more from his diary.”
As they walked along the corridor, Jack related what he and Althea had discovered.
“Good lord! There’s some suggestion that the English poisoned Napoleon?”
“It’s possible. Lord Butterstone stumbled onto something he wasn’t meant to know. Then he took it to someone at Whitehall who perhaps he should have avoided. I have to find out who that man is and what has happened to Lord Butterstone’s brother-in-law, Lord Caindale.”
“It sounds like you’re opening a Pandora’s box. Are you sure you should get involved? After all, Bonaparte is dead.”
“Lady Butterstone and Lady Althea deserve to know who killed their husband and father in such a brutal fashion.”
“I see. Take care, Jack.”
“I wish you all the best with Lady Erina.”
“Thanks. I feel I’m going to need it.”
It was close to midnight, but Jack wasn’t tired. Apart from exercising Arion for a few hours before luncheon, he’d done very little during the day. He’d been restless, eager to continue his search for Lord Butterstone’s killer.
He washed and stripped off his evening clothes, slipped betweenthe sheets, and blew out the candle. Resting, he considered his trip to London.
Jack sensed Harry wasn’t sure himself what lay behind his own rash behavior. For him to squire an unmarried lady about the countryside without her father’s permission was breathtaking in its recklessness. Even if he planned to marry her, and he wasn’t yet sure Harry did. Lady Erina, a determined young woman, had made it plain they weren’t to wed. But even Lady Erina could not make Harry do something he didn’t want to do. If Harry disagreed with something, he’d dig his heels in, and you knew you might as well save your breath. He had never lost his temper, to Jack’s knowledge, but he got his own way most of the time, by some means or other. It was a revelation to find him bending to Lady Erina’s will as meek as a lamb. It was totally out of character. Curious, Jack wanted to know why Lady Erina would risk her reputation to go to Ireland.
The door opened, and candlelight flooded in from the sconces in the corridor. For a moment, a delectable shape was highlighted before the door closed and the room became dark.
Jack pushed back the covers and reached for the tinder box. He breathed in a familiar scent as a hand found his shoulder. “Don’t light the candle.”
He ran his hand down her arm and took her wrist, then with an arm around her waist, leaned back on the bed, bringing the lady with him.
Althea sighed. “I hope I am welcome?” she asked, half-lying over him.
“Can’t you tell?”
She giggled softly. “I feel like a young girl.”
“Surprising in a woman of middle years,” he said as his hands cupped her perfectly youthful derriere through her thin nightgown.
She gasped, reached up, and touched his hair. “We must talk.”
The room was midnight black; it was impossible to read herexpression, but her trembling voice told him what he wished to know. “And we will, I promise.” He peeled the fine cotton nightgown over her head and tossed it onto a chair. His lips found the soft skin of her throat. He cradled her head in his hands and pressed kisses over her cheek and took her sweet mouth.
She softly moaned and stroked her fingers through his hair. “I’ve thought of this all day.”
“As have I.” He enjoyed a tactile investigation of her body. Without sight, his other senses came to the fore. The smell of fragrant, aroused woman, the incredible softness and warmth of her skin, the shape of her delicate bones beneath, her perfect, soft breasts. His hand smoothed down over her gently rounded belly, then the damp warmth between her thighs. What had begun as a slow appreciation became a rampaging passion, sending his blood thumping through his veins. He took her swiftly while she moaned, her fingernails leaving a trail of sensation across his back.
They lay quietly afterward as he held her, aware that she was silently crying. She mourned her father and perhaps Lord Charles too. Jack frowned into the dark. The marquess would be avenged.
*
Harry sat upin bed. “Erina! What are you doing here? Go away this instant!”
