Obsession Wears Opals (21 page)

Darius smiled. “Are you sure?”

Mr. Jarvis’s expression darkened. “I’m sure.”

Darius waited. Either the man would seek to intimidate him further or make some point with violence, but he didn’t care. Darius remembered the black of a dungeon and the deprivation and pain he’d suffered and survived.

One man in a black wool coat just doesn’t compare.

“I wonder why not,” Darius said. “His charismatic charms, perhaps?” he added sarcastically.

Jarvis’s look took on a touch of surprise. “Good day, Mr. Thorne.”

“And to you, Mr. Jarvis.”

It was only when he’d turned his back and left that Darius allowed himself to exhale. “Shit.”

It could be another man. Pure coincidence. Another horse. Another missing wife. Another heartless bastard . . .

Shit.

Chapter

16

Darius directed Hamish to make one more stop in the city before the journey home. There was a gentleman’s social club that he was acquainted with and he didn’t want to leave Edinburgh until he’d asked the questions that crowded his mind. Hamish pulled over to wait and Darius climbed out unassisted.

Inside the foyer, the club’s butler stepped forward to greet him.

“May I help you, sir?”

“Is Mr. Carrick available?”

The butler answered coolly and Darius submitted to the man’s subtle inspection of his coat and shoes. “Do you have an appointment with him, sir?”

It was clear that Darius was no member, but he held out his card with as much confidence as he could muster. “No, but here is my card and if you’ll explain to him that it is an urgent matter . . .”

Mr. Carrick didn’t keep him waiting long. The older man sauntered out of the club with the elegance of Beau Brummell, evoking an age gone by. “Thorne! Did I forget a meeting? I have not seen you since last summer when you presented that brilliant paper to the Architectural Society.”

“May we talk?” Darius asked, awkwardly omitting any small talk.

“Of course. Here.” Carrick directed him to a formal sitting room off the main entry hall. “I would take you into the central card room but . . .”

“I’m not attired for the private rooms of your club, sir.” It was more of a statement than an apology. “If you’ll pardon the intrusion, I won’t take up too much of your time.”

“Not at all.” The men sat on a long sofa set in the round room’s center. “Warren charged me with keeping an eye out for you, but I’ve utterly failed. I cannot lie. These days I am so easily distracted and cannot seem to keep any task to hand. The years are catching up with me, Mr. Thorne.”

“Professor Warren always said you were too clever to grow old.”

Carrick laughed. “God, I love that man! But come, you are his protégé and let’s hear this business of yours.”

“I am a scholar, sir, and no expert on Burke’s lists.” Darius shifted on the cushions and went directly to the heart of the matter. “Are you aware of a Lord Netherton? Richard Netherton?”

“The earl? His estates are northwest of the city,” Carrick replied in confirmation. “He inherited from his father just eight years ago. Odd fellow. Spends all of his time in London, from what I understand.”

“He recently married.”

Mr. Carrick nodded. “Last spring. A good match to Miss Isabel Penleigh. Her father is a marquis, although with no male heirs, it all stands to shift off to a distant cousin, sadly. Even so, her dowry was substantial and it has allowed Lord Netherton to recover his good credit and pay his tailors, from what I’ve heard.”

“So, he is—well connected.”

“Without a doubt. He has quite the social profile in Town, and while I am not a personal acquaintance, it is my understanding that he has shaped up quite nicely after a raucous youth.” Carrick shrugged. “A common enough story. Marriage often reins a man in once he tastes the joys of domestication.”

It was all Darius could do to nod.
Shit. Netherton? Is it really possible I’ve trespassed that far from my sphere?

“A quick engagement so there was a tiny whisper that he’d rushed her to it, but no one blamed him for being eager.” Carrick went on, “I saw her at a party a week before the nuptials, and I must say, it is the reason I remember all of this as well as I do. Isabel Penleigh was the most stunning woman I have ever laid eyes on. She was like a slender slice of moonlight—so pale a beauty that I almost thought her hair white! But eyes like . . .”

“Opals,” Darius whispered without thinking.

“Yes, opals!” Carrick clapped him on the back. “You read that in the social pages, did you?”

“Yes, the papers were . . . very complimentary, if I recall.” He recalled nothing but decided the lie was understandable. “Well, I should be going. I’ve taken enough of your time.”

Darius stood and Carrick followed suit, his confusion apparent. “B-but your business! Surely you did not just burst into my club just for—whatever was that?”

“Lord Netherton has approached me for a commission, but he struck me as insincere and I—wanted to hear your impression of the man. I trust your judgment, and since I know as much of English lords as I do of North American savages . . .”

Carrick smiled. “I’m flattered. But my best advice is to always trust your own instincts. Not that I’ve heard anything off on this gentleman’s reputation! I’m sure he is a fine gentleman and in no way untrustworthy!”

“But you said he was odd. What did you mean by that exactly?”

“I spoke rashly and without thought.” Carrick straightened his coat. “I’ve been casual in my remarks, Mr. Thorne, forgetting myself a bit. You caught me off guard with your sudden appearance, but I hope I’ve conveyed what you needed. Lord Netherton is a peer of the realm and above reproach, I’m sure.”

Darius nodded, stepping back to end the exchange. “Thank you, Mr. Carrick. I’ll let you get back to your cards.”

Darius left without another word, his legs numb and his head pounding.

He caught himself and closed ranks but it’s all the same.

I have my answers.

The chances of being able to offer Helen’s husband money enough to avoid a scandal had been slim, but now—it was a pipe dream that faded in the icy air that enveloped him as he walked back to where Hamish was waiting with the carriage.

He felt like a fool.

His fantasies of Helen being just a shade wellborn or her husband nearly his equal so that the path would be smoother ahead all turned to dust.

The option of just slipping away and changing her name also evaporated. He’d learned that her father was the Marquis of Penleigh and her debut in London was memorable, as was her quick engagement and marriage to the charming Lord Netherton. His Helen was well-known and scandal seemed inevitable.

The daughter of a marquis.

The wife of an earl.

Helen was Lady Isabel Netherton. And if he was not extremely cautious, he could end up swinging from a rope from any number of trumped-up charges, including being a horse thief or a kidnapper. But it wasn’t his own life he feared for; it was hers. His determination to see her free and safe had taken on a new urgency.

The question was, would Isabel be strong enough to face it? They’d whispered endearments and fallen into each other’s arms, but the implications of not knowing her station had made it all seem more tangible.

It hadn’t felt as much like adultery when her husband was no more than a nameless, cruel shadow. But now, he’d met the man and absorbed that this was no phantom to conveniently fade away and allow for fairy tales.

On the ride home, he chased the circular arguments for and against loving her before he finally abandoned the notion that it was a decision to be made.

I love her. There’s no choice to be had. All I can do is love her and find a way to free her. For better or worse, the monster in the dark has a name.

Netherton.

And once she was free, Darius accepted that the only way to guarantee her happiness would be to sacrifice his own.

***

When he walked through the front door of his house, Helen was waiting for him on the stairs.

“Was it a good day? Did you find the temples that Father Pasqual referenced in the university’s archives?” she asked eagerly. “I found an old recipe in one of your geology books on how to dye stones red like rubies so . . .” Her words trailed off as she came closer. “Is something wrong?”

“No. Not really. Not . . .” It was his turn to lose the thread of his thoughts. “I accidentally encountered your husband in the city, Helen, and I can now say without any doubt that I personally detest him. Not that I didn’t loathe him before on your behalf, but after meeting him, he is—vile.”

“Y-you met . . . Richard?”

Even knowing it for certain, to hear her say his first name and confirm all made his stomach churn. “Lord Netherton was at the university looking for a translator to work on some bit of exotic pornography he’d picked up somewhere.”

What little color she had in her cheeks vanished instantly at the news as she shook her head. “S-so vulgar and bold of him, wouldn’t you say?”

He nodded. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“I’m terrified that you will have weighed it out and decided that I am not worth the risk of crossing such a man.” She kept her place on the last step, her grip on the banister so strong he could see her arm shaking. “I’m . . . certain that I’m supposed to say something noble about releasing you from any promises you’ve made to spare us both the—”

“I love you.”

Her eyes filled with tears, and he caught her as she fell forward into his arms, relief robbing her of her balance. “Oh, God! Darius, I’m so sorry!”

He stroked her hair and held her close as she sobbed against him. “There now. It’s all right. He’s no more or less of a threat than he was yesterday, and we are just as happy, are we not?”

She buried her face in his neck, her cries rending his heart.

He simply waited, unwilling to give in to despair, caressing her cheek and warming her against his body. “Don’t worry, beauty. This time, the walls of Troy will hold and we’ll find a way.”

She lifted her head, a woman bereft of hope. “H-how?”

Darius looked at her and knew that she loved him. But he also knew that after all that she’d been through, her spirit was too fragile for the blast and shrapnel of a publicly detonated marriage.

Damn.

“
I’ll
find a way.”

“It must be wrong to touch you, to want you, to love you as I do when I’m—his.”

He shook his head. “You’re not
his.
Whatever claim he had as a husband, I have to believe he forfeited it the first time he hurt you.”

“Perhaps that’s right. Because it doesn’t feel sinful to love you, Darius. It doesn’t feel wrong.”

“Then let it be. Let’s simply take what happiness we’re allowed for as long as the fates allow it, Lady Netherton. To hell with the world!”

She gasped at his language, coloring beautifully at his boldness. “Call me Helen, again. I love it when you call me Helen, Darius. I can pretend to be someone else. Someone more brave . . .”

He smiled and lifted her into his arms and began to carry her up the stairs. “My Helen.”

Now it was truly a game of chess.

And Darius was just the man to figure out how to win the day and save his White Queen.

Chapter

17

Thorne left her abed and walked the house into the wee hours of the morning, wrestling with an impossible problem.
How can we end a marriage without creating a scandal? How do I destroy the ties that Netherton legally holds without also hurting Isabel in the process?

The moon was full enough to light the rooms and guide him through the halls. Darius tried to consider everything, even pondering what Netherton’s view would be. The man was making it known that his wife had deserted him but then underscored it with complaints about her disposition and health. He’d put himself in a position of power so that no matter where she surfaced, she would either be hounded back to him for her immoral flight or branded as unstable and give him grounds to put her in an asylum or lock her quietly away somewhere.

The clock over the mantel in the library struck four and a possible solution came to him before the echoes from the chimes had ended.

Netherton is no angel, and while the law protects him, there are limits.

As wicked as he is, no one knows the depths of his depravity, or that protective shield that Carrick and his kind uphold would fall instantly. Odd isn’t a crime. But if he’s gone too far, then no one will defend him.

If the scandal he’s threatened with has nothing to do with his wife and everything to do with his own personal proclivities . . .

He might let go of her to protect himself from exposure.

If I can research the man and uncover any tangible proof of wrongdoing, I might have the leverage I need to free Isabel. I just have to keep her clear of it and out of Netherton’s hands until I’ve succeeded.

Darius went back up the stairs as quickly and quietly as he could, eager to rejoin her for a few hours of sleep before telling her in the morning of his idea. But he found her standing by the bedroom window, a sensual ghost in her white nightgown with the curves of her body revealed by the bright light of the moon.

“Did I keep you up?” he asked. “Stomping about the house?”

She turned to him with a smile, keeping her place. “No, and you weren’t exactly stomping. I had another dream but when I awoke I thought I saw something outside.”

“Did you?” He walked over to share her view of the courtyard in between the house and the stables, already suspecting what she’d spotted.

A light from a lantern moved across the stable yard toward the house. “Is that . . . ?”

Darius winced. “Shhh! Mrs. McFadden would be mortified if she knew we’d seen her returning to the house.”

Isabel blinked at him innocently. “The arrangement seems to suit them both.”

“You’re not shocked?” he asked.

“You said they were a match, but I—somehow it never occurred to me that you meant it truly until I saw her cross the yard one night while you were gone. . . .” Isabel reached up to press her fingers to her cheeks. “I’m such a ninny! That’s why you didn’t want me to mention you getting that footprint from the stables! Isn’t it?”

He nodded and folded his arms around her. “I was trying to protect their privacy. Mrs. McFadden would be mortified if she knew her secrets were . . . not her own.”

“And Hamish?” she asked. “You—might have overheard them. But if you know, wouldn’t they be relieved not to have to hide and sneak about?”

He laughed softly, reaching out to push a strand of her hair back from her face. “Hamish knows of my awareness but I’d do anything not to spoil the illusion of my ignorance. It probably adds to their relationship to guard their affairs.”

“What other clues did I miss?” she asked, playfully pushing against his hand.

“Not many. I thought it was more telling that Mrs. McFadden never came when you had nightmares. I was hoping that you wouldn’t notice that my dear housekeeper isn’t on hand in the night.”

She was irresistible in the moonlight and Darius stepped closer to inhale again the fragrance of her skin and the faint musk of her arousal at his nearness. “Come back to bed, Isabel.”

It was the first time he’d really used her true Christian name, and the power of it affected them both.

She turned in his arms, her eyes filling with tears that shone like diamonds.

“Darius.”

He led her back to the bed, sitting on the edge, and then guided her to stand in front of him. Without a word between them, she read the stark need in his eyes and began to fulfill his unspoken wish.

She took one small step back and started to untie the ribbons at her throat and then slip the nightgown off her shoulders to drop it around her feet. For long moments, it was all he could do to stare at the woman that had so completely overtaken his existence. She was naked before him like a living statue, and Darius barely stifled the urge to kneel at her feet.

For there was his Galatea.

Although he made no claim to her creation. His contribution to Isabel’s beauty was hardly a wisp, perhaps only the energy of a true follower at the feet of a goddess.

“God, I want to map you!”

“Darius!” she protested with a laugh. “I am not the Congo.”

Darius smiled. “Perhaps not, but I fully intend to explore this territory and claim it for my own.”

He caught her hand and pulled her onto the bed, spreading out her limbs and even arranging her hair to survey this “territory” he intended to take.

“Darius,” she whispered, “please.”

He indulged in another moment or two to take in the sight of her, laid out before him, ripe and fertile, the beautiful, glistening petals of her sex open to him, her small breasts high and firm, and everything about her was the beckoning call of a siren. Here was his shy goddess, suffering the worship of his eyes and begging him with her gaze for the worship of his body.

He made quick work of shedding his robe and knelt at her feet, a sly smile coming over his features as his strategy unfolded. He lowered his mouth to taste her ankles and then deliberately worked his way upward to the prize he sought—the honey coating the swollen soft flesh between her legs.

He didn’t hesitate to lower his mouth, deliberately exhaling over her to elicit her cry of want. At last, he touched his mouth to her, the sweet play of his mouth against her making him long to extend the game. He used the tip of his tongue to trace her folds and then circle the distended nub of her clit, flicking it gently and driving her beyond her fears.

She was salty and sweet and it was addictive, this contact. To kiss her so intimately and deeply shook the foundations of his soul and made him wish that he truly had the power to send the world away. He imagined himself connected to her very soul as she began to buck and writhe beneath him.

He increased the speed of his tongue, and her fingers wound into his hair, gripping his head and holding on, her breath coming in jagged gasps at each movement of his mouth against her tender skin.

She’d accused him of promising too much, but her release was all he desired now.

Isabel threw her head back, and he knew she was losing control.

He boldly slipped a finger inside of her, pressing upward while his tongue laved the taut jut of her clit to push her over the edge.

Her taste was so intoxicating he wanted to savor every drop of her climax, forfeiting his own reason as the sound of her cries drove him beyond logic. He sat up and tried to catch his breath and was frozen at the sight of what his touch had wrought.

In the moonlight, she was transformed into a creature of pure magic, and with her eyes heavy with the spell of her own unfolding orgasm, Darius knew he would have given his soul to join her.

Without thinking, he climbed between her thighs and drove his rampant erection into the warm well of her body, gently impaling her with one stroke. Wishing to share her climax, to feel her come on him and around him, Darius pumped his body into hers, mercilessly chasing the ecstasy that encircled them both in its spell.

Deeper. Deeper. A spiral of touch, taste, smell, and sight ensnared him until she was perched in his lap with her legs wrapped around him, until there was nothing between them and neither could move without setting off a ripple of ecstasy through the other.

Isabel reveled in it. Her breasts felt heavy and ripe as they pressed against the firm, hot wall of his chest. The swirl of dark hair on his chest only added to the sweet friction of flesh on flesh, and her nipples pebbled against him, and she could feel him swelling and growing even harder inside of her, spurred on by her touch.

At last, he came inside of her in searing hot splashes of release and she almost laughed with the strange joy of it.

Darius called out her name and lost a part of himself irrevocably in her, imparting his heart and soul into the body of this woman that he had no right to claim.

And accepted that no man had ever loved a woman more.

Married or not.

***

“Where is your wedding ring?” he asked.

“I buried it.” She pushed the hair back from his eyes. “I couldn’t wear it anymore once I realized my feelings for you.” She studied him for a moment. “Tell me what you’re thinking, Darius.”

“Two things.” He sighed. “Firstly, that I may never get used to calling you Isabel and may just insist on using Helen as a term of endearment.”

“Rightly so,” she agreed and kissed him on the cheek. “And the second?”

“I’m thinking about what I told you about the queen on the board.”

“And?”

“I’m wishing life were that simple. That it were squares of black and white and that the path ahead could be measured in a few careful moves.”

“Please.” Her voice broke and he instantly turned back to take her into his arms.

“Isabel, I would do anything for you.”

“Don’t give up, Darius. Please don’t—abandon me.”

“It was never an option.”

She shook her head. “He’ll destroy you. I don’t want to lose you, but I don’t know if I can face—”

“Chess.” He interrupted her, the one word a calm invocation.

“Wh-what?”

“The game isn’t over until the king is defeated. I wasn’t lamenting that I couldn’t win, Isabel. I was just expressing my regret that it won’t be easy. But hear me,” he said, reaching up to push back one pale lock of hair off her cheek. “Netherton’s no match for us. We’ll find a way to outmaneuver him and free you.”

“You’ve thought of something already, haven’t you?”

“I have. The obscene texts were a clue to his—treatment of you. I suspect he has more than one twist to his nature, and if I can find proof of it, without any reference to his marriage, it isn’t the most ethical idea but I think I can talk him into a divorce in exchange for avoiding a very personal and pointed scandal.”

“A divorce? Is that . . . possible?”

Darius thought of the strange glimpse he’d already seen of her husband’s tastes, and suddenly the image of Harold Pughes standing behind the man anxiously lodged in his mind.

“I’ll see . . . but not until I start looking in earnest.” He sat up, gripped by the idea that the last person he wanted to talk to would in fact be the first.

“What is it?” she asked.

“I’ll have to go back into the city in the morning but not for long.”

“So soon?”

He pulled her gently into his arms, enfolding her in a protective embrace that allowed him to absorb her sweet warmth and inhale the scent of her skin. “One more quest for information and then I’ll have what I need to corner Netherton when he least expects it.”

“Darius! No!” she protested, but Darius kissed her until there was nothing of talking, of schemes, and most importantly, of a single thought of Richard Netherton between them.