The Veiled Heart (The Velvet Basement Book 1) (14 page)

Agitation, anger, and an unquenchable restlessness rolled through her as she paced the house. First, the study where she penned the note, then the parlor until Aunt D snapped at her to sit down. Now she was in the back garden walking the paths that wrapped around the garden.

The gate to the common gardens was right there. She could walk through and march the pent-up energy out. It would take a good ten minutes to walk briskly up and back the full length of the enclosure, more if she zigzagged, but then she’d be too far away to hear when Max’s response came.

Blast Maurice. Her brother was an overbearing stick in the mud. He refused to release her funds to start the women’s shelter. Refused to even speak with her about the details of her holdings. Instead, he implied he would have her and Aunt D move in with him so he could keep an eye on her. And then he had the gall to mention that blasted baron again.

Well, sibling say-so didn’t cover much ground where she was concerned, so she went to her lawyer and the facts were laid out. Maurice controlled all the funds from her marriage. He approved the payment of bills for her house in the city and an allowance to maintain her position in society. To know how her base funds were invested and how much she had, she would have to go back to her brother.

Freddy’s brother would come of age in the next year or two and he would assume the title and the Rothbury fortune. She, a widow, had been taken care of, but Freddy and Maurice had agreed it would be best if Maurice handled any funds should anything happen to Freddy.

And Maurice, was very against any idea of her doing something ‘independent’. He’d pushed for the details of her plans and had practically laughed in her face when he heard what she was intending. He told her hysteria in women was very treatable. In fact, he’d heard of a new treatment where all the patient’s teeth were taken out. He suggested she settle back into society and get ready for another marriage.

At this point, she wished there were the equivalent of men’s clubs for women. She would head right off and do a round of boxing.

An hour later, the butler delivered a return note from Max.

The script was bold and very distinct.

I can’t get away.

Under no circumstance go out without me, Lily.

Max

Tone in a written missive could be hard to identify. However, there was something so familiar in his directive. The wording, the unmoderated directive, they reminded her of Freddy, of Maurice, and every other man who thought he could tell her or any other woman what to do to suit his own ends.

Regardless of what she should have done, she was determined to go out.

Aunt D went to bed at nine p.m. and Miriam waited an extra hour just to be sure. Then she slipped out of the house and caught a cab.

In a few hours, she was back and slipping the key into the steel gate of the shared locked gardens.

It was a failed night much the same as Whitechapel. Except she had been propositioned. Moreover, if it hadn’t been for three women gathering around her, it would have ended much worse.

The whole outing a debacle. Nightcliff was a dirty and mean place. People had turned away from her on the street with insulting comments about slumming do-gooders.

She had been reckless with very little regard for her safety; and for the longest time, it had not been of much concern. She’d felt that nothing worse could happen to her than what already had.

The difference was that she wanted more now.

Wanted something wholesome, honest. Throwing herself into harm’s way was not going to get her that.

The truth was the edge she had when she first started her endeavor, the one she had felt as she had jumped from the boat way back in another life, was gone.

It had receded and in its place was a hungry desire to live.

Around her, the night was damp. The dew had already started to settle on the grass. A slight fog hugged the ground and floated up enough to make the gaslights look like soft washes of muddy light.

She closed the gate and walked straight into his chest as he stepped out from the shadows.

She screeched, her heart rocketing up her chest and started to pound hard.

“Damn it, Lily.”

His mouth came down on hers hard and demanding and he tugged her up against him.

Max. Max, she pushed herself closer to him still.

She could hardly breathe when he let her go.

“I said not to go out without me. Any bloody thing could happen to you out there. Have you absolutely no regard for your safety?”

“Well, that’s the point, I was just—”

“I don’t want to hear it, Lily. I don’t care how much of a bastard your husband was; you will not flaunt yourself in the path of serious harm. I will not have it. You will follow my direction or there will be consequences that will be less palatable than any harsh words.”

You will follow my direction.

Why did he have to do this? Every time!

“There will be consequences?” Her voice was high pitched as her hands came up and shoved his chest. He stepped back.

“Who do you think you are?” Miriam stalked around in a circle and came back to face him. Her chest rose and fell faster than she could get the air in and out. Her hands went to her hips then out to her sides in question.

He was infuriating. Just when she was ready to step forward and make a concession, he had to try and order it out of her. It didn’t matter that they may want the same thing, it was the manner of it that was the issue.

“My husband is well and truly in the ground; and as far as I know, I have not replaced him.”

“Lily.” He reached out and she stepped back.

“Oh, no, no, no.” She moved out of his reach.

“I was going to say that I agreed with you. That I had been hasty and that things have changed. That I hadn’t cared about the dangers before. That I hadn’t cared what happened to me.” Her voice grew louder as the agitation peaked. “That something has changed.”

He stepped forward. “Lily.”

She pushed at his chest again making him step back.

“No. No. Who are you? Who do you think you are to tell me what I can and can’t do? We had an agreement. I would tell you if I was going out and I did. You couldn’t come; that’s a shame, but not the deciding factor on my activities.” She pushed her chin up and out to emphasize her point.

He moved forward and leaned down close to her face.

“You agreed we would go out together. I am at your beck and call, but I was not able to free myself tonight. You should have waited. There isn’t a damn prostitute in London at death’s door that you are going to save with a sheath that can’t wait a bloody night. What happened to the refuge for beaten and persecuted wives?”

“I don’t have to listen to this.” She moved to go past him.

His hand flew out.

“Really? Are we doing this again, Lily? If you would just be reasonable. Trust me to protect you.”

She huffed at that and went to tug out of his hold.

“Working for your protection is not about controlling you; managing risk and your safety is not about controlling you. I have, and do support your endeavors. I have never asked you to give them up. In fact, I am encouraging you, but not to do ill-thought-out, dangerous things.”

She tried to tug free again and then in a few deft moves, she was over his shoulder.

“Put me down. Someone will see us.”

”Keep your noise down and no one will.”

He put the key in the lock and it opened.

“How did you get a key?”

They were supposed to be for residents only. In fact, residents were limited to how many keys they could hold.

As the gate closed behind them, a carriage pulled up. A plush and very expensive one.

“Have you borrowed this carriage?”

“Shhh.”

He opened the door and flung her onto a wonderfully comfortable seat. In fact, the interior was spacious, the bench well upholstered, and the soft candles in their sconces very atmospheric.

He stepped in and the door clicked shut.

Max bared his teeth rather than smiled.

“Clothes off, Lily. All of them.”

He tugged his coat off, then pulled at his tie, sending wonderful flutters down through her belly.

“In here?”

His face said no questions. “Yes, in here.”

Pleasure rippled through her at his absolute focus and no-questions tone. Something about Max being a little testy with her intensified the tension between them. She knew she could trust him, was safe with him, and knowing he was in turmoil from restrained passions that would soon be focused just on her was intoxicating.

Moreover, she was woman enough not to pretend that she didn’t want what they were about to do.

“Can you get the hooks at the back?” Her hands reached behind her head and pulled off the lace veil. As the fabric slipped off, revealing her face, her cheeks grew hot. For a moment she couldn’t hold his gaze. She looked everywhere except him until finally there was nothing for it but to look at him.

He’d seen her face, of course; but it was the first time since she’d told him about Freddy. Every time she was revealed it was as if he saw more than others, saw past who she wanted to present herself to him as and saw who she really was under all the layers of this game they played.

His face softened a fraction as he threw his coat, waistcoat, and tie to the side, undid a few buttons of his shirt and sank down onto the seat.

The carriage pulled away.

“I’m not sure I can get it all back on again.”

His eyelids dropped and his eyes hooded.

“Stop procrastinating. I want it all off.”

Miriam started to undo the buttons of her shirt. He started at the hooks at her back. Slowly between them, they shed her layers.

Outside people were in their houses, doing what respectable people do, and she was here in a borrowed carriage with a man who used his hands for a living; a wonderful man with wonderful hands.

She turned. “I’m going to need some help with the corset.”

The corset was new. Black satin, a sharp contrast to her soft pink silk underwear.

“Leave this on.” He ran his hand over her corset and looked down at her feet; she wore practical black ankle boots and black stockings. Her pantaloons over them.

“Boots and stockings can stay as well. But this goes,” he tugged at the pink silk pantaloons. It was pretty, the fabric very fine; but she knew the look he wanted, knew what all her pale skin would look like punctuated with the black.

She slipped off her drawers and dropped them on the carriage floor with the rest of her clothes then sat back down. The plush velvet of the seat’s upholstery brushed her bottom, thighs and sex, sending a wave of want through her and starting a soft tremble in her muscles.

“Your hair, take it down.”

The agitation was still there, a tight sound in his voice. The combination sent shards of excitement through her chest and heat to pool between her legs. She squeezed her thighs together.

“Is there something wrong?” Miriam reached up and started to unpin her hair. It dropped down around her, section by section as he watched.

Max was silent, he simply looked at her as the carriage rocked and the last of the pins came out. She dropped them on the floor, not looking away from the black intensity of his gaze. It was as if now that she had faced that penetrating gaze she was locked to it. Hungry to feel what it made her feel.

“Max?”

He frowned. “Things have got to change, Lily.”

Expectation sat in the air, in his voice, maybe.

“I’m not sure how that’s possible… but I was happy to see you in the garden.”

His lips thinned. “I need more.”

“I wasn’t sure what I needed when I went out, just that I needed something. I realized as the night went from one low moment to the next, that it was you. I needed you.”

His eyes creased, but the tight frustration and the intensity was still there.

“I’m glad to hear it.”

A soft shiver ran through her, this man, in his every mood, did things to her.

“I’ve changed my mind. Corset off, I want it all off.”

A shimmer of anticipation rippled under her skin as she turned so he could work on the laces. He tugged at the corset and it flopped loose. His hands slid round and pulled it away from her body.

She took a deep breath.

She sat there in her chemise and stockings.

“All of it, Lily.”

His voice was thick. His hands went to the edge of her chemise and lifted. Her hands rose and he tugged it over her head.

The carriage air was cool on her breasts. They swayed as the vehicle moved. His hands slipped under them and they overflowed his palms. Slowly, he ran his thumbs over the fullness of them.

“Damn it, but you are beautiful.” Max dipped down and the heat of his mouth sucked her nipple. Slowly, his hands pulled her under him and his mouth worked up her neck.

“I think of you much too often.” His mouth bit at her jaw. “I wake up remembering what you felt like. I want you right there next to me to sink into.” His hand slipped into her hair. He pressed his face into it, and drew in a breath.

“My body remembers the feel of you around me as I push into you, the scent of you as we come together.”

He bit at her neck and waves of sensation flickered under her skin.

“I’m not working. Not concentrating on anything but wondering what you are doing, when I can see you again.”

His hand slipped between her legs; he’d feel the dampness already there. Her body responded; just seeing him, it quivered with warmth and need.

“You’re wet.” His teeth tugged at her ear.

“I am.” She arched, giving him better access as she started to rock on his hand.

He swore, a soft tortured whisper. It puffed into the shell of her ear.

They were lovers now. They moved together anticipating each other’s touch knowing and sensing what flowed next.

The hurried sound of his clothing being tugged off one handed put a smile on her face. The way he held his body away and his hand came between them signaled the sheath. Then he pulled the last pieces of clothing off.

That warm smell of his body. Of clean soap. Male. Then the hot satin slide of flesh moved over her body. His chest against her breasts, his arm pulling her close. He rubbed himself against her damp folds just like the first night, and then he pushed in, hot and thick into her warmth. Her back curled under him, moved with him as he flexed and withdrew.

The bench, which had looked plush and generous, was now too small. Her fingers curled around the curve of the seat as the roll of the carriage made her muscles adjust for every bump and lurch.

She giggled and then got out of rhythm as a particularly large bump nearly had them on the floor.

He held still, grinning down at her as they went over another section of corrugation in the road.

“Come on.” He lifted and pulled her with him.

In a few deft moves, he shifted them so she straddled his lap.

His face was right in front of her. The rocking of the carriage bumped them together in a whole new way.

Max slipped his hands up her sides and cupped her breasts. His eyes softened.

He widened the spread of his thighs. “Rock into me.”

Curling her fingers around his shoulders she rocked into him. Her pelvis flicked back and forth over him.

And she gasped.

The motion moved him deep inside, sending pleasure coursing through her body. She adjusted her position, gripped his shoulders tighter as she moved. Her head was spinning and her body was tightening with need.

“Oh. I like this.” Her voice was throaty, a carnal thick sound that reflected all the tension building up inside. This position gave her freedom, control. It was the first time that she drove them. That she took him.

Her thighs burned; her arms ached as they moved into each other.

His hands gripped her hips and pulled her into a rhythm.

“Harder.”

His face was drawn as he looked at her, dark eyes boring into hers. It drove her to move on him faster, drive down on him with all her passion, with all her need. Show him her own frustrations; they pushed her to clench her legs tightly, to hold his shoulders in claw like hands as she rode him.

This feeling she had for him, this need to be with him, to have him there within arms reach or a few rooms away. To be able to walk through the house and find him, share a thought, discuss ideas. All day she had wanted to talk out her plans, her frustrations about Maurice and she didn’t even know where he lived. Couldn’t step into a carriage and go and find him if she needed to.

His hands tugged at her to go faster, to push them higher. Her body was dizzy as she took up the ever-building rhythm. Pushed into him as he raised his hips and the delicious angle spun her into a promise of bliss. She knew what was coming, had been there, and would be there again if she just pushed harder, faster.

One of the candles guttered and the shadows made the mood all the more intense.

Her core clutched as he pushed up deeper. She pushed down, rough and full of need that was spiraling out from the very core of her. He was right there with her, his eyes never leaving her. Her scream came as a total surprise, bursting out of her as her body broke into a million tiny pieces. She floated. His arms pulled her close against his chest; his face nuzzled her neck with kisses and words, soft beautiful words. How was she ever going to come back together again?

She opened her eyes after a while. She was across his lap, his arms around her, holding her close. His coat covered them both. He seemed asleep. However, his hands weren’t lax. Somehow, he had hold of her and slept.

Lily raised a hand against his cheek, over his jaw and chin, it was a rough scrape of hair. She would have red marks on her face and neck to hide in the morning.

“Max, I have to get up, dress, and go home.”

He bit the flesh of her palm.

“Stay here with me. Take a leap of blind faith and stay in the carriage, come back to my home, and stay with me.”

The laughter that should have slipped out of her didn’t.

“Can’t this be enough?”

He shifted her off him. “What? Trysts in carriages, in alleys, and me sneaking into your room. Is that really what you want? Can’t you imagine what it would be like to walk together in Hyde Park, go out together? Eat dinner at the same table. Don’t you want those things, Lily? With me or anyone else?”

She moved away and started to dress as quickly as the motion of the carriage allowed. He reached over, lifted a cane, and tapped the roof three times. The carriage started a series of turns.

“What was that?”

“He’s heading back to the garden gate. You haven’t answered me. What if I had funds? You have never asked.”

“That’s not it and you know that. I don’t see being a wife as something I want again.”

He tugged her back against him, nuzzled into her hair, damp at the neck from the exertion. “Are you telling me you don’t feel that you belong with me? I feel it in you, Lily. You gravitate to me. Your body shakes when I am close, when I touch you. Your body knows what you are being too stubborn to see.”

She struggled out of his hold. He always had to push one-step further than she wanted.

“So whose carriage did you borrow? This is not a cab. I vaguely saw a crest but upside down it was somewhat hard to read.”

He was silent and she turned around to look at him.

“I believe it’s the Worthington carriage.”

The blood drained out of her face.

“No!”

“I could have chosen one less opulent. It was simply the one I stepped into first.”

The thought of him taking a carriage as it waited for the owners in the theater, the opera, or a show sent blind panic into her.

“We have to get it back. If he is anything like my husband, there will be hell to pay.”

He was almost done dressing and helped her with her stays.

He tugged with quick hard movements. “I am sure he is nothing like your husband. In fact, from what I know of your late husband, he seems remarkably singular in his cruelty and depravity.”

“I can’t believe you have us making love in Lord Worthington’s carriage. I am going to his ball, will have to look him in the face and know I had sex in his carriage.”

His hands stilled. “You accepted the invitation?”

“Yes.”

“Will you actually go?”

“Yes. It will be a good opportunity to meet women who can help with the refuge.”

He started to tug her laces again. “That it will.”

“I will have to withhold my feelings for such a despicable man, but it is too good a chance this time of year to miss.”

He turned her around and shook her.

“Have you even met him? Do you know anything about him to denigrate his character so?”

“He was my husband’s roommate. That is all I need to know.”

He kissed her hard. When he lifted, he said, “I hope you learn some flexibility of mind, Lily, for both our sakes.”

She harrumphed at that. He was very annoyed at her over a man who no doubt deserved none of it. But then he had no idea. He couldn’t really understand what she knew, what all women of her station ultimately found out. Wealth and status were a gilded cage. Nowhere to go and no one to tell if something went wrong.

“I will be at the ball as well.” His voice was agitated.

“Can you repeat that?”

“I said I will be there as well.”

That’s what she thought he’d said. Miriam turned back around and looked at him. The carriage went over a bump and they both were rocked down onto the bench.

“How? Who are you?”

Tension crept up her back.

“Did you get an invitation?”

He smiled in the faint light and continued to dress.

“No.”

“What will you be doing there?”

“Apart from waiting for you to arrive, I will be making sure that all the guests are comfortable and well attended to.”

“You are part of the wait staff? I thought you had something to do with carriages?”

“I said I have an interest in carriages, Lily, and I have.”

An odd sensation of unease started to settle in her gut.

“You’re not being totally honest with me.”