The Copper and the Madam (7 page)

They did not speak for the longest time. Rory
derived a good deal of pleasure from Rhiannon’s reactions to London
whizzing by their window. The multitude of buildings and belching
smokestacks disappeared, replaced by green trees, open fields, and
fresh air.

“All this time, Rhiannon, you wore a
wig?”

She tore her gaze from the natural beauty
outside and met his stare.

“I have many wigs, all in the same shade of
red. The more garish, the better.”

“The painted face, the endless parade of
scarlet gowns, all a costume for the role of a madam of a brothel.
You play it well.”

“I learned how from a very wise woman,” she
replied.

Rory crossed his legs and set his hat next to
him.

“How did you come to London? Rhiannon, you
said you would answer my questions.”

She sighed. “I came from Wales with my father
at age fifteen. My mother had been dead for two years, and we had
lost our farm. Father thought he could find work in London. We
struggled for many months.” She pulled off her gloves and twisted
them in her hands as she spoke. “My story is the same as everyone
else’s who winds up at a brothel. I was abandoned.” Dismay and a
deep hurt flashed in her beautiful eyes.

“You are one of the bravest ladies I know.
You can tell me the rest. You have the courage.”

Disbelief showed on her face. “I thought I
had courage, hardened my heart, steeled my reserve, but around you
I feel so vulnerable, and I do not like the sensation. You ask too
much of me.”

“No more than you asked of me. I confessed
some of my deepest secrets. You can trust me to keep yours. Is that
it, Rhiannon? You do not trust me?”

She continued to wring her gloves; her
knuckles were white. “I don’t trust anyone. Not really. I did not
ask you to reveal your past. You offered it willingly.”

Rory grasped her hands, holding them tight.
“And why do you suppose I disclosed my past? Because I wished you
to know, I trust you implicitly. I want more between us than a
once-a-month supper. I have yearned for that for a very long time.
The reason I did not make my desire known sooner is I’d become
convinced you were indifferent to me. Finding out you watched me
fuck told me otherwise. Am I mistaken? Was it a vicarious thrill,
or did you observe me because you want me? Tell me now,
darlin’.”

Her lower lip trembled. He pushed her to the
very edge. They had wasted enough time. His guts twisted as he
waited for her to speak.

“I want you.”

Restraint
. He held himself back from
pulling her into his lap and kissing her senseless. Instinct told
him to move at a slow pace, and he would. Instead, he kissed her
hands and let them go.

Rhiannon rested them in her lap on top of her
gloves.

“There now, something we agree on. Thank you
for your honesty, but I need more. How did you come to be
abandoned?”

Rory sat back and crossed his legs and
waited. He would give her all the time she needed to form her
reply. The train whistle shrilled, interrupting the silence in the
car.

“My father sold me to a whorehouse. I was a
virgin and put up for auction. I heard later my father received a
portion of the proceeds and left for Liverpool. I assume he took a
ship to North America, or perhaps to Ireland, what does it matter?
He left me. I never saw him again. I garnered a high price of five
hundred pounds. Roly-poly virgins were popular.”

Virgins were sold in a few brothels, but
picturing a young, frightened girl standing on a table to be poked,
prodded, and bidden over, churned his bile.

“I lost my virginity to a loathsome, aged
earl who raped and sodomized me repeatedly. He left me in the room
bleeding, my clothes torn. After my introduction to sex, my opinion
on the act has stayed the same. I hate it. I vowed I would gain
control over my life and body as soon as I was able, and no man
would ever touch me again. And none has, not for ten years. You
think there can be something between us? I am sorry, Rory, as much
as I may want you—I can never act on it. Speaking of this has
proven my point. You will remain a dream, something to give me
comfort in my old age. Nothing more.”

Her words sliced him in two. She hated sex.
Though, he had his own deep-seated problems with it thanks to his
mother and his childhood. The carnal act had become nothing more
than a release of pent-up tension. He’d never indulged in a
long-term affair of the heart. Giving and sharing. As much as he
may have longed for it, he was incapable of such a relationship.
Rhiannon was the first woman who had him thinking he could be
capable of more.

“Sorry, I do not accept there can be nothing
between us. How do you know unless we try? I am not sure if I am
able to give myself completely, but with you, darlin’, I want to
attempt it. I promise you, we will take things slow.”

“You make it so difficult to say no.”

“Then say yes.”

“A copper and a madam. Not exactly a proper
mix,” she murmured.

“I don’t give a toss what others think, nor
should you.” He patted the seat next to him. “Sit here and let me
put my arm around you. Nothing else. Let’s admire the scenery
together.”

Rory spoke the truth. Even though he had
doubts about their compatibility, why should he care what others
thought? In a professional sense, there could be difficulties in
such a match that required further reflection, but for now, he
would enjoy her company. He’d found her appealing before; now that
he’d seen her true appearance, he’d become even more
captivated.

Rhiannon moved next to him, tossing his hat
on the seat she vacated. He put his arm around her and pulled her
close. She laid her head on his chest. He took no liberties, just
held her lush form next to his and savored the awareness of her. In
the peaceful serenity, he relished the quiet, unspoken connection
and bond between them.

Rea glared at Rory as he petted the horse,
whispering to the animal with his calm, deep voice.

“Are you sure you know how to operate this
contraption?” she asked.

“Aye, darlin’. I’ve used them in London and
places beyond. This is a simple one-horse chaise. We’ll be fine.
The gentleman at the station is seeing to our baggage and gave me
instructions on how to find Southen’s estate.” He held out his
hand. “Here, climb aboard.”

Dear God, would they both fit on that small
seat? Rory with his broad shoulders and her with her broad hips.
She placed her booted foot on the runner and hoisted herself up.
Rory jumped up next to her, holding the reins. His muscular body
pressed against hers from shoulder to calf. The sizzle of awareness
she had on the train jumped back to life.

“Under the seat is a throw. Could you get it,
please?” he asked.

“But, it’s the end of May. The sun is out. We
don’t need a throw.”

“Lay it across our hips; I want you to touch
me as we drive.”

He whispered his request in her ear, sending
shivers through her whole body. Lord, when he did that.

“What? You cannot be serious, I will
not—”

“Don’t become indignant. All I want is for
you to lay your hand on my thigh, nothing else. I want you to
become familiar with my body. Feel me, explore. If you should wish
to go further north in your investigation, I’ll not complain.” He
gave her a wicked, sensual smile. “I want to feel your heat,
Rhiannon.”

She covered their hips and legs with the wool
blanket. He sat, waiting. Giving him a brief smile, she removed her
glove and tunneled under the rough wool until she made contact with
his inner thigh. With wide spread fingers, she caressed him in a
slow, careful manner. Hard muscle flexed under her palm. The
heavy-gauge cotton of his trousers allowed her to
feel—everything.

“There now, it is not so bad. Just for your
information....” he leaned closer. “I’m as hard as one of the axles
on this carriage, all from your touch.” He snapped the reins, and
the horse moved forward in a spirited trot.

Rea stroked him while taking in the
surrounding English countryside. She inhaled. The smell of fresh
wildflowers and clean air filled her nostrils. Neither scent was to
be found in London, particularly in Lambeth. She could become very
used to this.

After some time had passed, Rory pulled up on
the reins. “Whoa.”

He nodded toward a gray-brick manor house not
far from the road.

“There it is, Southen Estate. Not as large as
I thought it would be.”

“What do we do?”

Rory reached under the throw and laid his
hand on top of hers. She had forgotten she still stroked his leg.
His fingers laced with hers.

“First, I want you to tell me that touching
me is not abhorrent. Did you enjoy it?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Do you think later tonight, in our room, you
might be agreeable to further exploration, and allow me to do the
same?” His voice was gruff with desire; his eyes twinkled with
mischief.

She was about to answer, when a male voice
called out, “Can I help you?”

Rory brought their hands out from under the
throw.

“You may. My wife and I—we’re newlyweds—” He
kissed her still clasped hand, and then let it go. “Are touring in
this part of Lincolnshire, and I thought to look up an
acquaintance, the Earl of Southen. Haven’t seen old Charlie in
quite some time.”

Rea chuckled at Rory’s faux-posh accent. No
wonder his skills as a copper were legend in every corner of
London.

“And who are you, sir?” the man asked.

“I am Sir William Lockensly, Baron Blackburn.
And who are you, my good man?”

The man removed his peaked cap. “Apologies,
your lordship. I am the groundskeeper of Southen Estate, James
Billon. The earl is not at home, sorry to say.”

“Really? I was under the impression he did
not venture far from home.”

Billon bent the bill of his cap in his fists.
“True enough, your lordship. He hadn’t, for many years. Went to
London two months gone.”

Rea slipped her arm through Rory’s and tried
to look disappointed. “How sad we missed Charlie. Is he faring
better since his injury?”

Rory gave her a sly smile, his face showing
his admiration at her slick fabrication.

The man shook his head. “Horrible thing that,
my lady. Attacked by footpads in London. He is faring better, but
still needs a cane.”

“Lincolnshire is safer than London, I am
quite sure. No need for us to worry about footpads or highwaymen, I
gather?” Rory stated.

The man shook his head. “None at all.
Although....”

“What is it, man?”

Billon took a couple of steps closer to their
carriage and lowered his voice. “Well, your lordship, we did have a
murder here, about ten months gone. First one in decades. Had the
countryside in an uproar. Never solved.”

Rea acted appropriately horrified, and Rory
made a show of patting her hand in comfort. What a great team.

“Do you have a proper police force? Just want
to assure her ladyship.”

“We have a parish constable. He has a small
office in Sutton-On-Sea.”

Rory nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Billon. Oh, the
earl, I assume, is at his townhouse in...Mayfair is it?”

“Yes, your lordship. Hyde Park Corner.”

Rory snapped the reins and the horse moved
forward in a light canter.

Rea clutched his arm. “Do you really think
Southen is in London?”

“It is possible. I can usually tell when
someone is lying to me. Billon seemed sincere in his statements. I
will head back into the village and seek out this parish
constable.” He kissed her cheek. “Well done, Rhiannon. You are a
natural.”

His gentle kiss and admiring words caused
such pleasure to cover her, she thought she would burst.

“You are a natural mimic,” she said. “Where
ever did you learn that high-class accent?”

“The Baron of Stonecliff.”

They both laughed.

How handsome he looked in his fine black
suit. He appeared every inch an aristocrat. While it was enjoyable
to playact and pretend, reality came crashing to the forefront of
her mind. If Southen resided in London, that meant he had been
there when Gordon was killed. A murder in this sleepy country
setting? Could Southen be involved? Lord, her imagination could run
wild.

“In what guise will you approach the
constable? This is a small area. People talk. You can’t be the
baron then identify yourself as a detective with Scotland
Yard.”

“I was thinking about the very same thing. I
noticed a pub next to the inn where I will bet the men congregate
in the evening hours, including the constable. With a few ales in
them, men’s tongues can loosen nicely. I will saunter in and buy
everyone a few rounds. That should do the trick.”

Rea moved closer, leaning in to Rory’s
strength. Already she became used to his nearness and his touch. He
wanted to do more at the inn tonight?
Well
. Apprehension
filled her, but also exultation. Could she allow Rory to touch her,
or more? She yearned to explore the option, but crushing doubts
made her wary. The dreams of the past several years held dozens of
creative scenarios. Far safer to keep Rory hidden away in the
twilight of her imaginings. He spoke the truth about one thing,
however, they had to try. This could be the only chance she would
have to test her readiness with accepting a man in a carnal
way.

***

Rory waited for Rhiannon’s arrival in the
private dining room. He’d booked the room using the false name he
gave the groundskeeper. Once the owner of the inn believed him a
baron, the man pulled out all the stops.

The menu for supper originally consisted of a
beef stew, now Rory had been told roast turkey would be served to
him tonight. The perks of being an aristocrat. Rory curled his lip.
He had no use for the peerage, all the way to the queen. They all
lived as if everyone owed them, yet people died of starvation and
disease in sewage-filled alleys every day. He had observed the
worst of humanity and also the best under the most horrible of
circumstances.