Swept Away (30 page)

She leaned forward and placed her lips against his back, tasting the salt of his skin, feeling the firm pad of muscle beneath it. He let out a low groan. She drew back, but he shook his head.

“No, don't stop. Please…don't stop.”

She began to kiss her way down his spine, starting on tiptoe and moving ever lower. Sliding her hands around his waist, she caressed his stomach and chest as she used her mouth on his back. She nipped the flesh with her teeth and soothed it with her lips, tracing lazy patterns on his skin with her tongue, and as she did so, her fingertips found his flat, masculine nipples and began to play with them. She could feel his skin flush with heat, and a soft moan escaped him.

“Do you like this?” she asked, and he let out a breathy chuckle.

“Yes. Oh, yes, I like it.”

“Good,” Julia said a little smugly. “I like it, too.”

She moved back around to his front and began to do the same things to his chest. When her lips closed around one of his nipples, he jerked a little, and his hands dug into her hair. Julia imitated the movement of his own lips yesterday on her nipples, and his breath caught in excitement. She could feel the hard line of his masculinity throbbing and pressing against her, making his arousal clear. It responded wildly to each new thing she did. Julia realized that she wanted to see him, to touch him there, as well.

She pulled back a little, and her hands went to the waistband of his trousers, unbuttoning them. He helped her with great alacrity, shoving the pantaloons down and stepping out of them, and peeling off his socks. He was now naked, and Julia looked him over without shyness, fascinated by the strength and beauty of his body. The sight of him stirred her. Her eyes went to the swollen member that thrust from his body, proof of his desire for her. She had felt its power the other morning, but she had not really seen it. Now she looked at it with a kind of awe, thinking that this had been inside her, filling and satisfying her. Tentatively she reached out and touched the engorged staff, then stroked both her hands along it.

It was obvious from Deverel's reaction that she could not have done anything to arouse him more. He bit his lip, his face tight with concentration, his eyes closed. She caressed him, her hands moving down to his legs and back to his buttocks, stroking and squeezing.

Deverel could hold back no longer. He bent and pulled up her nightgown, lifting it off over her head and revealing her nakedness to his eyes. He caressed her as she did him. His hand slid down her abdomen and between her legs, and he began to move it in a gentle, rhythmical pattern. Julia sighed, her eyes fluttering closed in pleasure. Watching her, desire slammed through Deverel like a fist. He bent and kissed her mouth.

They kissed for what seemed like forever. Heat built up in Julia's loins, fierce and explosive. He picked her up and laid her in his bed. Julia opened her arms, welcoming him as he moved between her legs and came inside her. Inch by delightful inch, he sank deeply into her, until Julia was almost sobbing with desire. She wrapped her arms and legs around him. He bent and kissed her as he began to move within her, with aching slowness at first, stoking the fires of her passion until Julia was writhing beneath him, urging him on. He thrust faster and faster, driving them both into a higher realm where nothing existed except the joining of their bodies. Julia dug her fingers into his back, crying out in longing, and her passion exploded within her. She went taut as the waves of pleasure rippled through her, and Deverel bucked, calling her name hoarsely.

He collapsed upon her, and they lay, still joined, floating together in the blissful afterglow of love.

The world looked much sunnier the next morning, Julia found. She awoke to find Deverel standing before his shaving stand, clad in a dark brocade dressing gown, humming as he slid the razor across his face. The drapes on one window stood open, letting a stream of golden light into the room. Julia stretched like a cat, luxuriating in delicious languor.

As if sensing that she was awake, Deverel turned and smiled. Julia thought she might melt at that smile. “Good morning.”

She returned the greeting, a little shy before him, remembering the wild and wanton way she had behaved the night before. She hoped he would not bring it up. To her relief, he did not.

He said only, “I thought that after breakfast this morning we would go to the address where they sent the money.”

“Oh, yes,” Julia agreed, sitting up in her excitement, remembering to clutch the sheet to her only at the last moment before it slid down her body, revealing her nakedness. She had no idea how appealing she looked, her bright hair tumbling wildly around her shoulders, her shoulders bare above the sheet, and her face still stamped with the relaxed satisfaction of lovemaking.

Deverel could barely restrain himself from going across the room and kissing her. But while Julia's un-inhibited and very voluntary lovemaking the night before had convinced him that she was not an unwilling or even passive participant, he was not sure how to act with her. He doubted somehow that she would welcome any demonstration of affection from him.

Julia put on her nightgown, with only a slight embarrassment at being naked before Deverel in broad daylight. She returned to her own room and bathed and dressed, singing as she got ready.

They set out in Stonehaven's carriage soon after they ate breakfast. The address they had been given lay in the East End, in a less-than-savory area, and it took even the experienced coachman, a lifelong resident of London, some time and several stops for directions to finally find it.

The place they sought was a tall, narrow house that advertised Rooms To Let on a sign above its door. Stonehaven got out and extended a hand to Julia, glancing around him carefully. This looked to him to be the sort of place where one was likely to be lightened of one's purse. He knocked peremptorily on the door, and some time later, after he had repeated his knock twice, the door swung open to reveal a slatternly, middle-aged woman.

“Orright, orright, 'old yer 'orses, would ya?” she whined. Her eyes widened when she saw Deverel and Julia, quickly taking in their expensive clothes and the carriage waiting for them at the end of the narrow street. A speculative look came over her face. “Now what would you fine folks be wantin' with Jenny Cooper?”

“Are you the landlady of this establishment?” Deverel inquired.

“I might be,” she allowed cautiously.

“We are inquiring after a certain man who rented a room here about three years ago. Were you the landlady then, also?”

She nodded emphatically. “I was. But I won't be rememberin' someone from that long ago. I get a lot o' customers, I do, and I can't be expected to remember 'em all.”

“Of course not. But perhaps you will remember this one. He had four parcels delivered to this address. It's not every day you get messengers with packets for one of your tenants, is it?”

“Can't say it is,” the woman said, her face turning crafty. “I might be able to remember 'im, if I thought about it. Course, I ain't got much time for sittin' around, thinkin' about things like that. I got me work to do.”

“I am sure. However, I am willing to pay you for your efforts.” He held up a gold piece, and the woman's eyes grew almost as big as the coin.

She reached for it, but Deverel palmed it quickly and held it behind him. “First, I want the information. Then we'll see if it's worth the money.”

“Orrr, you wouldn't 'old out on a 'ardworking woman, now, would ya?”

“Not if you don't try to cheat me. Tell me about the man who rented room 14.”

“It was a gentleman, I remember that. I probably wouldn't remember 'im, 'cept 'e didn't belong 'ere. Dressed real nice, and talked good, too.”

“Did he live here?”

“Oh, no. He just come 'ere a few times—to meet his fancy piece or to get one o' them packages you was talkin' about.”

“His fancy piece?” Julia asked faintly, her stomach plummeting, thinking of the rumors of Selby's mistress.

“Yes, ma'am, she come 'ere several times.”

“What about the man?” Deverel asked. “What was his name?”

The woman screwed up her face. “Cor, guvnor, after three years, you think I remember 'is name? I'm doing well to remember 'im at all.”

“Then tell me about him. You said he spoke and dressed well. What did he look like?”

“Well, now, he weren't the sort you'd remember. Sort of…ordinary. Brown 'air, brown eyes, medium tall.” She shrugged.

Julia straightened. “Brown hair?” she repeated, struggling to keep the excitement out of her voice. “Are you sure it wasn't red?”

“Red? Like yours, you mean?”

“Yes, very like.”

“Oh, no.” The woman shook her head decisively. “I would remember that. 'Is 'air was brown.”

Relief poured through Julia, and she felt suddenly weak. She turned to Deverel and saw the astonishment in his eyes.

“My God,” he breathed.

“It wasn't Selby!” Julia cried, tears suddenly gathering in her eyes. “It couldn't have been Selby. His hair was bright red!”

“I
know,” Deverel said, looking stunned. He handed the landlady the gold coin he had been holding and said, a little blankly, “Thank you. You have been a great help.”

They turned and started toward their carriage. Julia linked her arm through Deverel's. She felt as if the sun had suddenly broken through the clouds.

“It could have been that he hired someone to come pick up the money. We don't know that the man who let the room was the embezzler,” Deverel stated.

Julia looked at him skeptically. “Would you steal that much money and then entrust it to someone you hired to run an errand for you?”

“No. You're right.”

They climbed into the carriage, and it started toward home. Deverel stared sightlessly out the window.

Grimly he said, “I accused the wrong man.” He leaned his head back against the seat cushions and closed his eyes. “I was so sure that I was right. I hounded an innocent man to his death.”

His face looked ravaged, and Julia was filled with pity for him. She reached out and put her hand on his arm. “No. You didn't hound him to his death. I am certain that Selby did not kill himself. Remember, the suicide note is in exactly the same handwriting as the embezzlement letters. The embezzler wrote that note, I'm positive.
He
killed Selby.”

“Still, I knew Selby, and I didn't believe him. I had known him for years, but when I saw those letters, I was so convinced he had done it that I didn't even consider any other possibility.”

“The evidence against him was very strong,” Julia reminded him. “Even I was shaken when I read those letters. The handwriting looked so much like his.”

“But you believed in Selby, not the evidence.”

“You didn't know Selby the way that Phoebe and I knew him. You could hardly be expected to believe in him the same way.”

He glanced at her oddly. “You would not have said so a few weeks ago.”

“That was before I knew you.” Julia colored faintly. “I did not know what kind of man you are, how honorable you are, how much you believe in doing one's duty. You are the kind of man who would shackle himself for life to a woman he disliked just because he saw it as his duty.” Deverel started to speak, but Julia hurried on. “I began to understand how a man such as yourself could hate the crime so much that he would pursue the embezzler diligently. I saw that you could not have let it go. You would have felt it was a betrayal of your friend Walter.”

“Yes. I did,” he agreed. “It was probably the most painful thing I have ever done, to reveal a friend's treachery. But I should have listened to Selby more. I didn't give him a chance to prove that he had been wronged. I should have talked to that landlady back then. The address was there. I was just so convinced by the letters that I didn't bother.”

He turned and gripped her hands, gazing intently into Julia's eyes. “I swear to you, I did not embezzle that money. That is not why I pursued Selby.”

Julia smiled. “I know. I came to that realization long ago. I would not have married you otherwise. I could not have shared your bed.”

He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly against him, and he rested his cheek on the top of her head. “You are the best of women.”

Julia felt tears threatening. To keep them at bay, she said saucily, “Besides, after talking to the landlady, it was clear that it could not have been you. There are many things one might say about you, but no woman would ever term you ‘ordinary looking.”'

He chuckled and kissed the top of her head. “Ah, Julia…thank God you came up with that absurd scheme to kidnap me. Otherwise, I would have gone on convinced that Selby had done it.”

They reached their house and went inside, going to the small, less formal sitting room on the second floor. Deverel rang for tea, then began to pace thoughtfully back and forth across the room.

“We have to clear Selby's name,” he said, frowning. “The question is, how? I don't think the landlady's statement that he wasn't her lodger will be enough to convince everyone, not with those damning letters.”

“No,” Julia agreed. It was so warm and satisfying having Deverel join her in her quest. “We have to find the real embezzler.”

“And killer,” Deverel added grimly. “I am convinced that he killed Selby and wrote that suicide note. It pretty effectively proved Selby's guilt. I certainly never wondered about it again…until you came along.” He frowned. “And those ‘accidents' you've had—I am more and more convinced that they were his work, too. Now that I know Selby was murdered, it makes sense that he would have been so desperate that he tried to kill you.” He paused. “Who knew you were looking for the real embezzler?”

Julia shrugged. “Any number of people, I suppose. Phoebe and Thomas, of course. We were the ones who came up with the idea. Nunnelly and some other servants. Cousin Geoffrey. And I told Varian and Fitz one afternoon when they came to call…” Her voice trailed off, and she looked at him.

He sighed. “Yes. We have to face it. Varian and Fitz are the most likely candidates.”

“It is so hard to believe it is either one of them,” Julia opined. “They were both good friends to Selby, and—” She broke off.

“The same logic that you used to decide it was me convicts them,” Deverel observed. “The trustees are the most likely candidates. It had to be someone who knew the workings of the trust and who knew about the name Jack Fletcher. Since we are working on the knowledge that neither Selby nor I did it, that leaves only Varian and Fitz.”

“I know, but—well, frankly, I don't think Fitz could bring off something like this. Do you?”

“No. You're right. He wouldn't have the wit. The physical description could be either one of them, of course, but the most likely person seems to be Varian.”

“I cannot conceive of it being Varian!” Julia cried. “He was one of the few people who wasn't convinced it was Selby. I've heard him say several times that he couldn't believe Selby had done it.”

“Easy enough to do, I suppose, when you know that you have arranged everything so that the evidence points right at the man. It would tend to cool anyone's suspicion that you had been the one who did it.”

“I suppose you're right.” She shook her head. “Still, it's hard to believe that Varian is that duplicitous.”

“Who else, then? Your cousin? He would have known about ‘Jack Fletcher,' and Selby might have told him how the trust worked.”

“Geoffrey?” Julia laughed. “Now that truly is absurd. Geoffrey would never devote that much energy to anything. Besides, he has scads of money. He was the only heir of his mother's father.”

“Phoebe? She would have known it all.”

That remark merited only a roll of Julia's eyes. He might as well accuse her of doing it as Phoebe. “All right. You made your point. Varian is the only real candidate we have.”

“Now that I look back on it, it was rather fortuitous that he was there when I got that message from Selby. He could have gone to the hunting lodge, killed Selby and left the suicide note, sent me that message begging me to come see Selby, and then ridden over to Stonehaven. That way he would have been certain of my finding Selby and the note. If I decided to ignore Selby's plea to come see him, Varian could talk me into it.”

Julia nodded sadly. “Yes, and he, of all the people involved in this, had the most need of money. His side of the family is financially strapped.”

“So I've heard. I suppose, growing up, knowing that he would have the title but that Walter would have much more money, might have worked on him forcibly. He could have come to feel that it should have been he who was wealthy, not Walter or Thomas.”

“Perhaps.” They were both silent for a moment. Then Julia said, “How can we know for certain, though? We have to prove it, not just speculate.”

“There's always the possibility of kidnapping him and forcing him to confess,” Deverel suggested with a twinkle in his eyes.

“Hush,” Julia admonished. “Be serious, now.”

“It
is
a possibility,” Deverel mused. “I think Varian would be more likely to confess than I would. However, the problem with forcing a confession is that then you are never sure if it is true. And what sort of thing are we willing to do to him to make him confess? I have never much pictured myself as a torturer—and I know that you were willing to set me free after a couple of hours, even though you hated me. And,” he added sternly, “I will not allow you to seduce him into talking.”

“Don't be absurd,” Julia said loftily. “I realize that my plan was a mistake from start to finish. But we have to find some way to prove it. Perhaps if we could get a drawing of Varian and show it to the landlady…ask her if he was her lodger.”

“Good idea. Can you or Phoebe draw a reasonable likeness?”

She shook her head. “I'm all thumbs. Phoebe is more accomplished in such ladylike pursuits, but I don't think she could do it unless Varian posed for her, and what reason could we give for that?”

Deverel frowned, thinking. “Perhaps I should pay Varian a visit. There might be a miniature of him lying about the St. Leger house. Mothers always have portraits of their children, don't they? I could look for one and, shall we say, borrow it for a day or two.”

“Deverel! You are becoming positively larcenous.”

“You're a bad influence on me.”

“I shall go with you,” Julia said. “Two sets of eyes are better than one.”

He shook his head. “No. You are staying here. It's too dangerous.”

“Really, Deverel! What can be dangerous about visiting Varian?”

“You can ask that after three attempts on your life?”

“But you could as easily have been killed the last time! You are in as much danger as I.”

“I can look after myself.” He could see Julia was about to fire up, so he reached down and pulled her up, stifling her words with a kiss. “However, if I have to watch and worry over you, it will be much harder to take care of either one of us.”

“But, Deverel…”

“Please, Julia. I am asking you as a favor to me. Let me handle this visit by myself.”

“Oh, all right,” Julia said grudgingly. “But it's hardly fair of you.”

“I will tell you all about it.”

She grimaced. “It's not the same.”

Deverel left for Varian's after they ate their luncheon. Julia soon grew bored, and it was a great relief to her a few minutes later when the butler announced that her cousin had come calling.

“Geoffrey!” she cried, leaping to her feet and going to him, holding out her hands. “It's so good to see you. I was just sitting here feeling miserably bored.”

“Oh, no.” Geoffrey hesitated at the threshold of the door. “You aren't going to ask me to take you somewhere, are you?”

“No. I wish I knew of someplace to go, but I don't. Come in, sit down. Tell me all the gossip.”

“Most of it is about you,” Geoffrey replied, sauntering into the room and sitting down. He was, as always, the picture of elegance, from his gleaming black boots to the gold-handled cane he carried as an accessory. “Everyone is agog about your and Stonehaven's sudden marriage.”

“I am sure they are shocked because Deverel married someone with such a scandalous background.”

“Mmm, that and because no one knew anything about it beforehand. Old Mumford said something to me about its being sudden, so I told him that of course the families had known about it for some time.”

Julia grinned. “But Dev told Fitz and Pamela that we were going to Buckinghamshire to tell his mother the news.”

Geoffrey fluttered his hand. “Details. Can't let yourself be swamped in them. With enough stories circulating, no one will know what to believe. Anyway, no doubt they'll have a new story to chatter about in a week or two.”

“I hope they will have the news that Selby was wrongly accused,” Julia said earnestly. “We found out something.” She went on to tell him of their encounter with the landlady.

“I say, that seems very encouraging.”

“It is. It was enough to convince Deverel, thank goodness, but I am sure it will take more than that for the general public. And Pamela—she loves having the Armigers as villains.”

“Demmed unfriendly female,” Geoffrey agreed. He sat in thought for a moment. “So you don't suspect Stonehaven anymore?”

“No. I soon realized that it could not have been him.”

“Didn't think it was,” Geoffrey reminded her sagely. “But then, who was it?”

“We're not sure. The thing is, there was this rumor about Selby, that he had a mistress.”

“What? Old Selby? Nonsense. Adored Phoebe.”

“I know. But you see, I had not told you before, because I haven't really talked to you alone. I didn't want Phoebe to know.” She poured out the story of the suicide note and the rumors of the mistress and their inability to locate who had been spreading them. “If we could pinpoint the person who started the rumor, I think we would find that it is the same person who—who wrote the suicide note.”