Scandalous Wager: A Whitechapel Wagers Novella (4 page)

“Your father can be a bit—“

Lizzy cut him off. “A bit of a bully?” She knew exactly what her father
could be and how he expected everyone and everything to bow to his will. Though
it was true that he usually exerted his authority benevolently and for the
right reasons, his domineering nature could chafe.

“I suppose I should thank you for at least attempting to come to
my rescue.” He moved closer to her, far too close to be appropriate if anyone
happened by the open office door.

“I hated to hear how he was berating you. I would have told him
the truth. The fault was all mine anyway.”

He lifted a finger to her mouth as if to stop her words, but the
press of his touch turned into a caress as he traced her lips and then slid his
fingers across her cheek. He bent toward her and she opened her mouth slightly,
eager for the taste of him again.

When his lips were a hairsbreadth from her own, he stopped and
lifted his head. “We should close that door.”

Lizzy left his side and latched the door, slipping the lock for
good measure, and then returned to him. She didn’t wait for him to touch her
this time. After lifting her hands to his face, she pulled him down for a kiss.
A trickle of fear that someone might see them, that her father might return and
catch them, made her hesitate only a moment before the bliss of tasting him
again blotted out everything else.

Chapter
Five

Ian meant to resist her, to pull away from her kiss, to sit her
down and speak sense to her. But she addled all his senses. She smelled like
lavender and fresh air, and she tasted like a delicacy, a rich indulgence he
did not deserve.

Her kiss was gentle, as if she sensed how exhausted he was, how
much he needed comfort. But the horrors of the night made him want the opposite
of gentle. He wanted to lay her down on her father’s desk and take her, possess
her, make her his so that he could protect her. For the first time since he had
come to London ten summers past he wanted to leave the city and return to the
southern countryside where he had been raised. But what would he do there? How
could he earn the wage required to deserve Lizzy Ainsworth?

Ian wrapped his arms around Lizzy and pulled her close. Breaking
away from their kiss, he pressed his mouth to her neck and breathed her in,
nuzzling the tendrils of hair that had escaped their pins and hung in loose
curls against her ear.

He grinned against her skin when he felt her body melt into his,
felt her press herself more tightly against him, embracing him with the same
fierce need.

“What is it?” She spoke the words quietly, nearly a whisper, and
they were infused with a tenderness that tempted him to unburden himself of the
dreadful scenes he had witnessed during the night. However, those memories—that
brutality—was exactly what he wished to protect her from.

But there were other things he needed to say to her. Pulling back,
he gazed into her eyes. “There is something I must say to you before you
continue to distract me.”

“Am I such a distraction?” She seemed surprised to acknowledge her
effect on him.

“The very best kind, Lizzy. But I must say this to you before your
father returns, and hopefully I will have a question for him when he does.”

She scrunched her face in a sort of consternated pout, and he felt
his heart tip even further.

“Surely it is best for you to speak to my father after I have. I
promised I would support you with him, and I will. And with Sara.” She paused
in what had been an impassioned declaration and turned her head away from him,
as if she was suddenly shy. “No matter what has or has not occurred between
us.”

If she was going to start on about her sister again, he feared he
might just turn her over his knee and paddle her arse, though the image that
accompanied the thought seemed much more erotic than punitive. He still held
her in his arms and had the urge to kiss her so thoroughly she would never
doubt his intentions again.

When he
said nothing, stalled by images of spanking Lizzy, she filled the silence. “I
apologize for coming to your lodgings last—“

He kissed her, stopping her words, willing her to read his
intentions in his actions, but she seemed as stubborn-minded as she was
passionate.

He pulled back and she blinked up at him.

“I am certain your sister is a charming young woman, but I don’t
give a damn about her at the moment.”

Lizzy opened her mouth, and he thought she might protest, but he
continued on.

“I am not interested in marrying your sister.”

A flicker of pleasure lit her eyes at his admission, but he was
far from finished.

“And stop regretting last night.”

“I do not—“

“You offered me a gift, and I want it. I want you, but not for
what you might say to your father and certainly not for your sister. How could
you believe such a thing?”

“Everyone fancies Sara! She is charming and accomplished and—“

“You must mean her singing?”

She stifled laughter by pressing her fisted hand to her mouth. “It
was an unfortunate moment.”

Ian didn’t stifle his laughter, but he only allowed himself a bit
of it. He wanted Lizzy to know that his feelings, his intentions, were true. “I
hardly noticed. I was too busy watching her sister.”

“Were you?”

Was she being coy or had she truly failed to notice how he watched
her each time he had visited the Ainsworth home? The scent of her clung to him
and he still had her flavor in his mouth and she still doubted him.

“I have wanted you since you the first moment I laid eyes on you.”

“Ian.”

He had never heard his name spoken with such tenderness.

The door to the office began to rattle and her father’s voice
boomed his name with anything but tenderness. “Reed, why in God’s name is this
door locked?”

Even as Ainsworth spoke the words, Ian heard a key scratching in
the lock and hardly had time to remove his hands from Lizzy’s body before the
office door swung open, thudding against the wall behind it.

When Ainsworth saw them both standing in the middle of his office,
his eyes went wide and a swath of red spread from his cheeks to his neck cloth.
For a moment he gargled and stuttered, as if he was choking on his own tongue,
and then the tirade began.

“Reed, what in God’s name are you doing locked in the office with
my daughter? Damnation man, this morning I threatened a formal censure and now
I find you... I find you
alone
with my daughter.”

“Father, please—“

“Out, Elizabeth. Wait outside my office, as I asked you to do a
quarter of an hour ago.”

It took as much restraint as Ian could muster to allow his
superior to raise his voice to Lizzy with that tone of disgust his words.
Father or not, Ian hated the way Ainsworth spoke to her. But Miss Ainsworth
required no rescue.

Lizzy straightened her back and approached her father. The chief
inspector didn’t give her a glance, no doubt expecting her to obey his command
and leave the room. But she stopped short, just before her father’s desk.

“Father, please let me explain.” She looked back at Ian after speaking,
and there was a question in her eyes.

The most important question was the one he had yet to ask.

“Detective Chief Inspector, I wish to marry your daughter.”

“What?” The word rang to the ceiling, shouted by father and
daughter at the same moment.

“Reed, have you gone completely mad?” Ainsworth turned an even
deeper shade of crimson.

“You said you did not wish to marry Sara!” Lizzy’s voice took on a
petulant tone.

“You, Lizzy, I want to marry
you
.” Would the woman ever
understand?

She launched herself into Ian’s arms and he held her tight,
forgetting for a moment that her father stood glowering at them.

“No, I will never consent to this.” Ainsworth boomed the words,
like a judge casting final judgment.

Lizzy stepped away from their embrace but reached down to clasp
Ian’s hand.

“Elizabeth Mariah Ainsworth, you will cease this foolishness and
step into the hall while I speak to Inspector Reed.”

“No, Father.” Her rebellion seemed to deflate Ainsworth. He
slumped down in the chair behind his desk and pinched his nose between thumb
and forefinger.

“Reed, you cannot provide for my daughter. I know your income. And
you will have even less of it after this outrage.”

“Father—“

“Do not interrupt me, Lizzy.” Ainsworth snarled at his daughter, and
Ian could no longer stand by idle.

“Sir, I can provide for Lizzy. I have been saving for years, and
you know I am not afraid of hard work or long hours. I have hopes of promotion,
sir.”

The man laughed, leaning back in his chair and resting his hands on
his not insignificant girth.

“You think I intend to promote you? After finding you alone,
locked in a room, with my daughter?”

“I locked the door, Father.”

Lizzy’s words seemed to light a fire under Ainsworth. He shot up
from his desk. “We’ll have no more of this now.”

Lizzy opened her mouth to protest, but Ainsworth lifted a finger
and pointed at her.

“And you, girl. Your time in Whitechapel is done. I do not even
wish you to visit me here at headquarters. It is long past time you should
begin considering your future. You will make a fine wife, Lizzy. To a proper
suitor.” He spoke the final words as he shifted his gaze to Ian.

Ian wasn’t certain if he should revel in the acknowledgment that
he was a suitor for Lizzy’s hand or focus on Ainsworth’s dismissal of him as
improper.

“On one point, sir, we are in agreement. Lizzy should no longer
come into Whitechapel, at least until we’ve caught him.”

Ainsworth actually shot him a look of gratitude. Their work
together on the women’s murders, the common goal to solve the crimes, had
created camaraderie between all the men of H Division, no matter their status.
Ian did not wish to be at odds with his superior. The man had favored and
mentored him, and, if he was lucky, he might one day be his father-in-law. Most
of all, he shared the man’s desire to keep Lizzy safe.

Lizzy apparently had other ideas. The moment he expressed
agreement with her father, Ian felt her tug her hand from his.

“So this is how it would be.
Both of you
agreeing on what is best for me without consulting my feelings at all.
I
am not a fool. I am more careful and observant than you give me credit for. I
am a detective chief inspector’s daughter, after all!”

Lizzy’s raised voice echoed against the walls of Ainsworth’s
office. Even she seemed taken aback by her outburst. Ian watched her bow her
head and bite her lower lip. He almost expected her to apologize to her father,
who stood staring at her apprehensively, as if fearing she might start shouting
again. Then Lizzy lifted her head and shot a long stare at both men in turn.
“You cannot keep me from my work. Either of you.”

Ian felt her gaze on him as she spoke the last two words, and he’d
never seen such a look her face. Frustration was clear, but he also read
disappointment. The same gold-brown eyes that had looked at him with passion
just moments before now gazed at him with pain.

He wanted to go to her, comfort her, to make her see sense.

But after gazing at him for a moment, she turned on her heel and
strode out of the room. She did not stop outside Ainsworth’s door to wait as he
instructed but turned in the hallway toward the building’s exit.

Her determined stride left Ian wondering if she’d ever wish to see
him again.

Ian took a few steps, intending to leave Ainsworth’s office. He
wanted to follow Lizzy yet knew it was impossible. He had work to do, a
murderer to find, and keeping busy was far preferable to dwelling on the end of
what had only just begun between him and his superior’s daughter.

“We’re not finished here, Reed.”

It was only Ainsworth’s gruff voice that recalled Ian to the
official reprimand he had been receiving before Lizzy interrupted. He waited
while Ainsworth resettled himself behind his desk. The man seemed drained after
the confrontation with his daughter.

“Yes, sir.
As I said before Li...before
Miss Ainsworth’s arrival, it won’t happen again. I should have sent word to you
immediately.”

“See that it doesn’t. Let us put the matter to rest there.”

Before Lizzy burst in, Ainsworth had threatened official censure,
even demotion. Now, after finding Ian in a locked room with his daughter, he
was setting the whole thing aside?

“You will take no official action?”

“I’ve just told you I won’t, Inspector. Would you like me to
reconsider?”

“No, sir”

“Very well then.”

Ian waited, expecting Ainsworth to dismiss him. But the man simply
sat and gazed at him, as if sizing him up.

All Ian could think about was Lizzy. Despite her hasty departure
and the prospect she was finished with him, the urge to ask Ainsworth whether
he could court her, marry her, was powerful. He opened his mouth to speak, but
the sound of Ainsworth’s voice filled the room.

“You’ve chosen the right one.”

“Sir?”

“I like to host the men that I command in my home, allow them to
meet my family, show them how hard work and diligence can pay off.”

Ainsworth’s hospitality toward his men was legendary. Some saw it
as the guv showing off. Others thought Ainsworth desperate to marry off his
daughters. But Ian took it just as the chief inspector had intended. He wished
to motivate his men. Ainsworth seemed to value ambition as much as any other
quality.

“Do you know how many requests I have had from men who wish to
marry Sara?”

Ian dearly wished the girl would just marry someone and be done
with it.

“No, sir.”

“Four.”

The number neither surprised nor interested Ian.

“She could not be bothered with any of the poor besotted fools, of
course, and they don’t know how blessed they were.”

Could Ainsworth be as tired of the issue of Sara Ainsworth’s
matrimonial prospects as he was? Before he could respond, if indeed Ainsworth
expected him to, his superior continued.

“Sara would make a terrible police officer’s wife, no matter his
rank. Elizabeth is the better choice. Yet none of them chose her. None of them
noticed her merits.
Until you.
It is no surprise. You
are a fine detective, with too keen an eye not to see what is truly before
you.”

It was the perfect moment to speak up, to proclaim his intentions
toward Lizzy, but Ainsworth had stunned him. The detective chief inspector
filled the silence.

“Based on what I witnessed here this morning, I would venture to
say she is fond of you.
And you of her.
How exactly
did that transpire?”

Ian had never stuttered in his life, but he suddenly tripped on
his own tongue. “I have... She is... We...”

Ainsworth seemed to grow bored with his effort and offered up a
detective’s surmises.

“I take it you have seen her outside of your visits to our home.
Goodness knows Sara and my wife would not have given you a moment’s peace to
speak to Lizzy on her own. So you met in Whitechapel, perhaps. By chance or
design? At
Tregard
School, where she does her charity
work, or perhaps here at the station when she came to visit and found me away.”
Ainsworth watched Ian closely as he spoke and his eyes narrowed. “Not
Wellclose
Square. Tell me my daughter has not visited your
lodgings, Inspector.”

Ian could not tell him that Lizzy had come to him. Her scandalous
wager, asking him to give her carnal pleasure, as she called it, in exchange
for favor with her father and sister had never been worth considering. He would
have offered her anything, all the pleasure he was capable of giving, just for
the prize of touching her, kissing her, making love to her.

“I see.” Ainsworth seemed to read Ian’s thoughts, though he hadn’t
managed to utter a word.

What exactly had Ainsworth’s inquiring gaze deduced?

“She came to you.”

He had never lied to Ainsworth and didn’t wish to start now, but admitting
the truth might tarnish Lizzy’s reputation or damage the chief inspector’s
regard for his daughter.

When Ian remained silent, Ainsworth continued.

“Your silence tells me all I need to know, Inspector.” The older
man released a long, deep sigh. “I am well aware of my daughter’s, shall we
say, independent nature. Though I acknowledge that venturing to a bachelor’s
lodgings unchaperoned is beyond any measure of independence I can condone.”

All of this would be irrelevant if Lizzy was his. Why wait for
promotion? Every day he saw evidence of life’s fragility. Happiness, a lifetime
of it, was just within his grasp. Ian could not let it slip by him.

“I am more than fond of your daughter, sir. I would like to marry
Lizzy. I would like your permission to ask her.”

He expected hesitation, perhaps an outright refusal. But Ainsworth
continued to surprise.

The man had been sitting forward at his desk, speaking to Ian with
an earnest intensity. Now he leaned back in his chair,
steepled
his fingers over his chest, and opened his mouth as if to speak. But what came
out was not a word. It was a deep, rumbling belly laugh that shook his whole
body. In between the steady bellows of laughter, he issued short barks of
mirth, as if he had just thought of something even more amusing. The sound of
his laughter built to a crescendo until his eyes began to well with tears.

Ian did not know whether he should throw cold water on the man to
stem his fit or laugh along with him. He settled for letting him go. He had
never seen Ainsworth in such a state and rather hoped he wouldn’t again.

Ainsworth finally got hold of
himself
and
leaned forward.

“Do forgive me, Reed. I can see you are quite sincere. And I have
no doubt you hold my daughter in high esteem, despite the lack of sense both of
you displayed this morning.”

He stifled another giggle before continuing.

“Your words reminded me of the day I approached my own
father-in-law to make the same request regarding Lizzy’s mother. I thought
convincing the old man would be my greatest challenge. He was child’s play
compared to the struggle to convince my wife to marry me. Like my daughter, she
was quite committed to her work. I fear you have a similarly difficult road
ahead.”

“Lizzy is worth the effort.”

“Indeed.” On that, at least, they both agreed. “Can you provide
for my daughter? Living near the station was commendable when you were an
unmarried man, Inspector, but I would prefer my daughter reside closer to her
family.”

“And not in Whitechapel.” Ian had no particular love for the
district, though he had come to respect those he met who worked hard and
remained hopeful despite their circumstances. Still, he would not expect Lizzy
to live there and had already considered the prospect of providing a home for both
of them. He nodded his head at Ainsworth. “I have already considered new
lodgings, sir.”

“Excellent.”

“Then you consent? Earlier you said you would not.”

Ainsworth smiled at Ian. “Man can change his mind, Reed. Let’s
hope for your sake the same is true of woman.”

***

“You cannot be thinking of marriage!”

Mary Ledbetter was the most outspoken opponent of marriage among
Lizzy’s friends. Though she asserted her reasons were based on the betterment
and rights of women, Lizzy believed it might have something to do with the
handsome journalist who had broken her heart two years before. She spoke of him
occasionally, a Mr.
Wynter
, usually holding him up as
a prime example of the kind of man who would expect his wife to give up
everything after wedlock in order to serve as his housekeeper and care for his
children. Even to Lizzy’s ears, Mary’s reasoning sounded more emotional than
logical.

Now Mary was confronting Eleanor Walker, the third member of their
small circle that convened every few weeks following their larger women’s
suffrage group meetings. Gathered around a small table at a tea room in
Bloomsbury, they would discuss politics, books, art, and their work. Today
Eleanor had surprised both Lizzy and Mary with news of her upcoming nuptials.

Lizzy laid a hand over Eleanor’s and turned to Mary, trying to
deflect her attention. “She certainly is thinking of marriage. She’s just told
us she has accepted Mr. Pratt’s offer.” She squeezed Eleanor’s hand. “I believe
congratulations are in order.”

“Do you really offer congratulations so lightly, Lizzy? After all
the discussions we have had on the subject?”

Lizzy hated that Mary spoke as if Eleanor wasn’t even at the
table, but Ellie seemed to take it in stride. Always the quietest of the bunch,
she simply sat and beamed. Marriage, or at least the prospect of it, seemed
wholly agreeable to her.

“Mary, we discuss many issues and perhaps too often consider the
worst possibilities. I know nothing of Mr. Pratt, but I look forward to meeting
him. And I don’t offer my congratulations lightly. I offer it wholeheartedly. I
am happy for you, dear Ellie.”

Mary hesitated only a moment before taking Ellie’s other hand. “I
wish only for your happiness, Eleanor. I’m simply not certain you will find it
in the shackles of marriage.”

Eleanor responded to Mary’s first sentence and ignored her last.
“And I yours, both of you.” Her soft voice rang with sincerity and her joy was
infectious.

Lizzy and Mary released Ellie’s hands and the three women reached
for their teacups in an impromptu toast to the future Mr. and Mrs. Pratt. With
harmony restored in their little circle, Lizzy expected the conversation to
return to a discussion of the meeting they had just attended. But Eleanor
steered the conversation back to her betrothed and the topic of marriage.

“I assure you Mr. Pratt is an exception to whatever fears we have
expressed about matrimony and its effects on women.”

“You’re not married to him yet.” Mary’s dubious tone drew a
patient smile from Eleanor.

“Very true, Mary, but we have discussed our future many times—our
hopes and expectations. He respects my work. In fact, we plan to work
side-by-side running the inn his father has left him. I would no more ask him
to forego his work than he would ask me to quit mine.”

Lizzy knew that Ellie’s bookkeeping skills, gained from years of
experience in her father’s shop, would serve her well as an innkeeper’s wife.

“And does he support suffrage for women?” It seemed Mary was
determined to find fault with poor Mr. Pratt.

“He is indeed.” Eleanor took a dainty sip of tea and Lizzy hoped
that Mary would take the cue to move onto a different subject. But Ellie wasn’t
finished.

“Do I have your blessing then, Mary? Will you finally acknowledge
that a woman might find a husband who wishes for a life’s companion, a partner
in every endeavor, not simply a housemaid to keep under his thumb?”

Mary merely smiled and murmured a sound of assent.

“And you, Lizzy, do you concede the point as well?”

Ian Reed’s beautifully carved face came instantly to Lizzy’s mind.
She felt heat warm her cheeks at the memory of his touch, his kiss, his body,
so firm and warm beneath her hands. And she heard his words, the desire to
marry her, ringing in her ears.

“How can I deny it? Your Mr. Pratt is proof enough. And surely
he’s not the only exception.” Lizzy smiled and hoped her blush was not too
obvious.

Could Ian Reed be the sort of man to accept her fully, with all
her faults, her political opinions, and her inability to sew a neat stitch to
save her life? More importantly, would he allow her to continue her work at
Tredgard
School?

No. She already knew the answer. He had expressed agreement with
her father, who wished her to quit her position immediately.

Ian Reed might offer her passion, but she could never be his wife.