A Dangerous Madness (29 page)

“I still plan to see Bellingham today. And with everything Margie told you, perhaps I can get him to admit some of it. At least force the court to give Harmer more time to mount a defense.”

She made a hum of agreement and then leaned forward and brushed a kiss on his jaw.

He shuddered, and tipped her head back. Rain had plastered her hair to her scalp, and she looked stripped to her essence, looking back at him with eyes that spoke of hunger and heat and…happiness.

“We need to get back.” He whispered it close to her ear, letting his lips brush her cheek, and her temple.

She snuggled deeper. “I know.”

“You know I spoke of a way to free you from any worry of becoming with child?”

She went still and raised her head, languid and so desirable his legs almost couldn’t support him. “Yes?”

“I won’t deny the idea of being your lover was something I enjoyed thinking about since I met you, but every day I’ve been in your company I’ve become more and more sure I want something more.”

She frowned. “More?”

He clasped her even tighter, tried to find the most eloquent way to say it. “For the rest of my life.”

She stared at him.

He held her gaze. “I know we’ve only known each other less than a week, and I’ll climb up the wall to your bedroom in secret for as long as you need to decide, but understand that whatever relationship we enter into when this thing with Bellingham is done, I don’t just want you for a lover. I want you for my wife.”

Chapter Thirty-seven

S
he stared at him in shock. “We’ve only known each other since Tuesday.”

“Enough time for you to decide to take me as a lover,” he said, and there was satisfaction in his voice. “And in these last three days, we’ve spent more time alone together than most courting couples get over the whole of a Season.”

That was true. She knew he had shown her more of himself than he might ever have done if they had not met under the extraordinary circumstances they had. Still, why would he—

“You don’t have to decide right now.” He bent his head and rested his forehead on hers. “I just wanted you to know, for me, there is no going back. You have me completely captivated. I have no plan to end our liaison. And I would make it permanent as soon as you give me your answer.”

“I’d take him up on that, luv.”

Phoebe looked up, blinking back the rain, and saw three women hanging out of their windows, mindless of the soaking they were getting, watching them with smiles on their faces.

“He looks like a nob in that fancy coat, even though he’s soaked through an’ all. And he likes to cuddle you close. That’s always a good sign.”

Phoebe couldn’t help the laugh that spilled from her. She lifted a hand and waved. “I think you’re probably right.”

She looked back at Wittaker, and the sudden joy in her shifted to searing desire at the look on his face. He bent and kissed her, to the cheers and cat calls from above, until they both pulled away, breathless.

He stepped to one side, with his left arm still firmly around her shoulders, and bowed to their audience. “Much though we’ve enjoyed ourselves, it’s time to go.”

“Don’t go on our account,” one of the woman called. “Been most entertainin’.”

She loved the way he grinned at that. Sheldrake would never have been holding her close in a dark alley to begin with, but even if he had, he’d have reacted with affront and bluster if they’d been caught out.

She gave a final wave as they turned the corner and she realized she was still smiling like a love-struck fool by the time they’d reached the street.

She tried to school her features, but Jimmy gave her such a strange look as they approached the carriage, she decided she probably hadn’t done a very good job.

“All right, my lady?” he asked.

“Yes.” She could feel a flush of heat at how long they’d been gone. “Margie realized you were following her. She went down that lane, and I went after her.”

“Oh.” His chagrin was evident.

“No harm done.” Wittaker gave her a sidelong look that was part amusement, part leer, and she found herself laughing again.

“I have to speak to Bellingham, and Newgate is close enough to here for me to walk,” Wittaker said as he helped her up into the cab. She was gratified to see it was as hard for him to release her hands as it was for her to let go. “Would you go to my house again?”

She shook her head. “My aunt will have spent the day packing to leave London tomorrow. I need to spend some time with her.”

“If it helps, I don’t think Gascoyne will send any more men after you. She should be safe enough.”

Phoebe pursed her lips. “I think she’s unsettled more by the reaction to my betrothal ending than anything else. And there is no escaping that.”

“Yes, there is.” He took her hand again and kissed it. “Because you are now betrothed to me.”

She hadn’t thought of it in those terms. She’d been thinking about being with the man himself, now she remembered he was also a duke.

“Do
not
do that.” Wittaker pulled himself into the carriage after her and closed the door.

“Do what?”

“Withdraw.” He didn’t take his seat, he crouched in front of her. “I can see it happening behind your eyes.”

She closed them, then took a deep breath and looked at him. “This sounds stupid, but I forgot, in the alley, that you’re a duke. That all those people at the Prince Regent’s dinner…”

“They’ll behave as if that never happened when you’re happy for us to announce you’re to be the next Duchess of Wittaker. And they’ll hope and pray you do the same. That you don’t give
them
the cut direct for their behavior.” He leaned back on his heels. “I’ve been playing this game for a long time, and I can promise you that the less you care, the more they do.”

She gave a wry laugh. “I was starting to like the idea of no more balls and soirées.”

“Phoebe,” he almost purred her name, “you do as you like from now on. You would have anyway, I suspect, whether you’d met me or not. As Miss Hillier, or the Duchess of Wittaker, you can ignore every single invitation you ever get, or attend them all, it makes no difference to me. Although the more you ignore, the more desperate the hostesses of London will be for you to accept.”

She gave a slow nod.

“No more building up the barricades against me?”

She shook her head, and he leaned forward and nuzzled her neck before pulling back.

“And just to make sure I understand completely, your reaction in the alley was a yes to my proposal?”

She hesitated. “It wasn’t a no.” She dropped her voice to a whisper so no one but he could hear her. “I want to be with you as often as possible. I crave your company. But I’m not sure I’m ready to be the center of a scandal. And accepting your proposal now, on the heels of Sheldrake’s rejection and death, that’s exactly where I’ll be. But if you’re happy to do it, I would like you to climb up to my bedroom as often as you can.” The thought of them together, with no watchful eyes on them, completely free to do as they liked, made her heart leap into her throat.

She was twenty-four years old and she had felt something extremely important was missing from her life for at least the last four. She had the sense Wittaker would show her exactly what that important thing was.

“I’ll see you later, then.” His hand shook a little as he reached for the carriage door.

“You’re thinking of walls again?” she asked suddenly.

For a moment, he looked absolutely shocked.

“You plan to climb up to my bedroom? Or will you come in the front door?” She suddenly felt uncertain, as if she’d misunderstood him.

He smiled. A long, wicked smile that made her heart beat faster.

“It depends how late I am. But you’re quite right, I was thinking of walls.”

* * *

It was a struggle to get his head straight as he walked the ten minutes it took to Newgate Prison. The rain had eased off, but his shirt and jacket still stuck to his skin uncomfortably, and he was almost glad of the distraction.

As the shadow of Newgate fell over him, though, and the insidious stink of human waste and despair blew at him on the cold wind, he managed to push thoughts of having Phoebe alone with no possibility of an interruption to the back of his mind.

Newman, Bellingham’s jailer, leapt to his feet with alacrity when he saw him, no doubt remembering the generous tip James had given him for information last time.

“He just has a visitor in there at the moment, Your Grace, although I can turn her out, if it’s urgent?” Newman bobbed like a grey-feathered robin.

“Her?” James frowned. “Who’s in there?”

“Miss Mary Stevens, Your Grace. Seems she lives with Bellingham and his wife in Liverpool. Bellingham’s wife and Miss Stevens run a dressmaking shop or some such.” Newman fiddled with the buttons on his jacket. “Thought there could be no ’arm in letting her talk to him. Letting him give her a message to take back to his wife, given tomorrow…”

James gave a nod. “I would be most grateful if you would ask her to wait for me when I go in to speak to him. I’d like to see her for a moment. I won’t be long with Bellingham.”

Newman gave a nod, and then disappeared into the small passage near his desk. When he came out, a young woman was with him. In her late twenties, he would guess. She had dark hair and was neatly dressed, although the clothes she had on were worn, and her face held a tight, worried look.

She curtseyed awkwardly. “You wish to speak with me, Your Grace?”

“If you don’t mind waiting, Miss Stevens. I won’t be long, and I won’t keep you.”

She gave a reluctant nod, and James made his way to Bellingham’s cell.

The man was standing, watching the door, and he smiled when James was let in by the guard. “Good afternoon again, sir. Did you find my papers?”

“Not yet, Mr. Bellingham.” James had forgotten all about the blasted papers, and wondered if Harmer was looking for them. “At the very least, they will be presented at your trial, and you can ask for them, then.”

Bellingham gave a sigh, as if this failure was one he was used to dealing with.

“You told me the other day that no one helped you, but that isn’t true, is it?” James leaned back against the bars. There would be no sitting as if visiting a friend today.

Bellingham did not look concerned. He shook his head. “No one helped me. Not a single soul.”

“Margie did. And her brother, through her.” He would not tell Bellingham the brother didn’t exist yet.

Bellingham looked up, the movement like an animal suddenly sensing danger. “All Margie did was tell me stories of her brother’s employers. That wasn’t help.”

“What about the list you gave her for him to look at. That wasn’t help?”

Bellingham looked at him through wide eyes. “You have the list?”

James shook his head. He wasn’t going to lie to Bellingham, he was here to help him, not terrify him. “It has been destroyed.”

Bellingham sagged, half-falling into his chair. “I knew that was a mistake, but…” He ran shaking fingers through his dark hair. “Destroyed, you say?”

James nodded. “And the money you were getting from Mr. Wilson? That wasn’t help? What about the help in finding the gunsmith?”

Bellingham blinked and shook his head. “I haven’t had any help. I’ve answered that question enough times. The money…well, if Mr. Wilson said I was owed the money by one of his clients, I was owed the money. It didn’t surprise me at all that someone had forgotten to pay me during the time I was in jail. He’s a businessman, he doesn’t give money out unless it’s owed.”

“Why didn’t you use it to help your wife and family, instead of printing pamphlets and buying guns? That money could have kept your family for a year or more.”

For the first time, Bellingham became truly agitated. He wrung his hands and lifted out of his chair to pace. “It was my last chance to get a settlement. I need to provide for my family. Not just get them through the year, but have enough for a good future for them. I had that before, and then injustice took it away from me. The money Mr. Wilson gave me meant I could finally do everything I needed to to have the matter resolved.”

He finally caught James’s eye and James could see the determination and the self-pity there. A strange mix.

“I will tell you as often as you like to hear it. I have been trying to solve this since I returned from Russia many years ago. I didn’t have help from anyone. And I’ve finally had to help myself. I’ve taken matters into my own hands and crafted justice for myself, and no one tomorrow will deny me my rights. How can they?”

James gave a reluctant nod. Bellingham was determined not to see the hands that helped him, and to be fair, they had intended that to be the case. Gascoyne was only known to him as his Member of Parliament; Sheldrake, not at all. There would be no recanting of his story.

He waved to the guard to let him out and took his leave of Bellingham.

The roof seemed to be lowering down on him by the time he stepped into Newman’s office and he couldn’t bear to stay here another moment.