He fed me another spoonful. “Cilia, this is thoughtless. I’ll get you something better than this. So many things are amiss here. But I could no longer live in my father’s house. My investments—”
“The ones made right with my dowry.”
“Yes.” He bit his lip for a moment. “They’re doing well. We can afford to be independent.”
“Do you do everything to spite Tramel? Jane says that’s why you married me. She thinks there’s no better way to anger the old money ton than new Black money from the West Indies.”
He rubbed a hand through his hair, feathering those deep black locks that covered his neck. “I wanted adventure just like you. Now I just want you.”
After putting the bowl and spoon on my table, he wrapped his arms about my waist and pulled me off balance. “My sister forgets her place. She knows nothing of my heart. My lack of foresight has put seeds of war under that mobcap.”
“A full rebellion, my lord.”
A smile erupted. “Well, do I don the garb of a Roman senator this evening or am I Daniel in the lion’s den? You do purr like a lion when you’re content, Cilia.”
“You say this and then nothing changes.”
“Cilia, Iwilldo better. Besides, it’s obvious our marriage of convenience is becoming inconvenient for two headstrong individuals. One of us should consider surrender.”
“That word doesn’t sound very good for me.”
“Then it is I who surrenders. I’m yours. I want us.”
Felton kissed me, kissed me hard, then slow, then forever.
His hand whipped me up into his arms and he carried me away. In his bedchamber, in the slim light of a sole candle, I think we both surrendered. The sweet intangible fever he caused burned. Scorched by his skin, broken by want of his pleasure, I gave into missing him, needing him, and being grateful he was here.
CHAPTER7
FELTONLANCE
May 20, 1813, One More Time
Felton slugged out of Whitehall and headed to the mews.
Angry couldn’t quite describe his warring emotions. His letter to quit the Department of War and the Colonies was in his right breast pocket, the letter from his solicitors in his left, both too close to his conflicted heart.
Months of searching and waiting for news from Demerara and he’d received the worst.
How was he to tell Cecilia that her father was dead? That her sister Helena had to stay with an uncle, the blockades trapping her in Demerara. The Department of War and the Colonies would use none of their resources to rescue her if he quit. He’d be gentle and hold Cilia until her cries stop.
Then she’d sob again when he told her he had to go on another trip.
Lord Liverpool promised to make things happen to retrieve Helena if Felton took on one more mission. The man who’d recruited him from the battlefields wanted him to go after smugglers. The ones he’d chased until the ambush that killed Johnson.
It would mean leaving for months, just as his household had begun to feel like home.
Didn’t he owe justice to Johnson and the man’s little boy? He visited little David last week. That brown smiling face glowed when he told him of his father’s heroism. Felton had a host of stories, but nothing to offer when David asked if the bad guy was caught.
The answer was clear.
He had to do it. He’d track the clues. Then Liverpool would grant special permission for Felton to bring Helen back.
All sounded like a good plan, but he knew it would risk the happily married situation he’d enjoyed these past seven months.
One more mission.
One more chance to catch the bad guy who got away.
