Wedding Matilda (Redcakes Book 6) (12 page)

The
vardo
was crowded with all six of them inside. Majewski cursed and pushed a small table aside, then gestured to his mother and Mrs. Miller to sit across from Matilda’s prone form. First, though, his mother went to a cabinet and pulled out a vial. After she opened it, she pulled out a bit of dry leaf and crumpled it under Miss Redcake’s nose.

Ewan watched as her eyelashes, ginger like her hair, fluttered. Her lips moved. He thought she said her son’s name. The old woman muttered something and capped the vial, then put it back in her cupboard.

“I’ll tell you that one’s fortune,” she said in English. “She’s going to waste away without her son. Isn’t she eating? Sleeping?”

“He’s been missing since Wednesday,” Ewan said. “That’s a very long time to be separated from your child, especially under the circumstances.”

“Wednesday?” Majewski said. “Are you certain?”

Ewan remembered that day so clearly. He’d been kissing Matilda, feeling like his own world was falling apart, sensing that she might anchor him back to earth, and then it rocked again and she was cast onto the waves as well.

“Why do you ask?” Greggory said sharply.

The horse dealer exchanged a glance with his mother. “I saw Izabela on Thursday.”

“Holy Mother,” Ewan swore. “Where?”

Matilda moaned, and he knelt beside her. “Listen if you can, Miss Redcake; this is important.” He rubbed her hand between his palms.

“On Corn Street, in front of the bank.”

“Was she alone?” Ewan asked.

“I was on my way to the Commercial Rooms to meet with a merchant about a matched set of grays,” Majewski reflected. “She saw me, stuck her nose in the air, and turned away.”

“What was she wearing?” Mrs. Miller asked.

The man shrugged. “Just her everyday blue dress. No apron.” He blinked. “No shawl either, now that I think of it.”

“It was raining heavily that day,” Ewan remembered. Who had she handed Jacob over to? There could be no more doubt that she’d been involved. She hadn’t returned to Matilda’s home.

“She might have just come from the bank. I don’t remember her looking damp. Must have been a break in the weather. She seemed to be alone, but I’m not sure.”

“You had no reason to speak to her,” his mother said.

“No. I broke with her,” Majewski confirmed. “I hadn’t seen her from the time we argued until Thursday.”

“You didn’t try to get her back, promise a scheme that would bring you the money to marry her?”

Majewski waved his arm around the neat room. The places where there were bare walls showed fine wood. Everything looked fresh and clean. Nothing needed repair. “By the standards of my people I am a wealthy man. I want for nothing.”

“This is your place, then, not your mother’s?”

“I have my own
vardo
,” the woman said. “Parked in the trees on the eastern edge of our camp. I do not like all this gaudy paint, and mine blends into the landscape.”

“You are the fortune-teller,” Greggory said, frowning. “Don’t you need to draw attention to yourself?”

The woman smiled. “I have all the trade I need, young man.” She stood and walked toward him, the floor creaking underneath her feet, then lifted her chin to stare into his eyes.

Ewan watched Greggory flinch as the woman took his hand, as if she’d shocked him with electricity. Shaking her head, the
drabarni
said, “You have a rough road ahead of you,
gadjo
. Much to endure before you find peace.”

Greggory’s expression went stony. “Shouldn’t I cross your palm with silver first?”

She chuckled. “That prophecy was free.”

Matilda struggled into a sitting position. Ewan wondered if she hoped to escape before the
drabarni
inflicted a doom-filled prophecy on her as well. Instead, the old woman took the small table and pushed it toward the bench where Matilda was, then took a small pouch from a drawer. A card-shaped pouch.

“For the love you bear for your child, and the sorrow I feel that a member of my people is involved, I will give you a free reading.” She opened the pouch reverently and placed the deck in front of Matilda. “Ask your question.”

Matilda sat up and placed her hand on the top card, then squeezed her eyes shut. Ewan was surprised that she acquiesced, but perhaps she thought it the quickest way to get out of the
vardo
. A moment later, she took her hand away.

The
drabarni
nodded and placed three cards from the deck in front of her, then frowned in concentration. “In your past, the hermit. You have done this alone, the birthing and raising of your child, Miss Redcake. You have been willing to do anything for the baby. You were wise to follow the course you did.”

Matilda’s eyebrows rose, and Ewan wondered if she thought of her recanted decision not to marry Theodore Bliven.

“Here in the present, we have the Nine of Cups.” The old woman frowned. “This is a happy card. It symbolizes that you have everything you want.”

Matilda shook her head. Tears welled in her eyes. “We both know that isn’t true.”

She tapped the card with a long fingernail. “There is some deeper truth here. In the past, you trusted the wisdom of friends. Perhaps friends will lead you to the truth again. Now, in the future, the card is the Two of Swords, symbolizing the decision you will make. The figure is blindfolded. You are missing some important piece of information, something in front of you that you are refusing to see. You have to understand things as they are and act quickly, before disaster strikes.”

“Information like you and your son are charlatans and Izabela is hiding in your caravan in the woods?” Matilda snapped.

The woman spread her arms, palms up. “You are welcome to look. Indeed, I insist. I do not want you calling the police and disturbing our peaceful camp. I gave this reading to you freely and I ask courtesy in return.”

Matilda reached into her coat and pulled out a handful of coins. She dropped them onto the table, a shower of silver shillings. Queen Victoria’s dour image glared sternly at the Gipsy woman.

“There, I have paid, and I grant you nothing.” Her face glowed with pale fire as she stood, a hint of red circles on her cheeks. “Greggory, Mr. Hales, please take a look at this woman’s
vardo
. We cannot risk my child for courtesy.”

“I do not want to leave you alone,” Ewan said.

“Mrs. Miller is here.”

He nodded and gestured to Greggory. They went down the steps and walked through the camp in silence.

“I really thought we’d find them here,” Greggory said as they reached the woman’s caravan. “I cannot believe there is yet another man in this picture.”

“Mrs. Miller needs to lose her position,” Ewan said. “She is in charge of guarding the servants’ chastity.”

“It doesn’t sound like there is any hope of controlling this one’s,” Greggory said with a laugh.

Inside, the plain
vardo
was just as tidy as Majewski’s, if less ornate and perhaps a decade older. “No one could be hiding here.”

“I didn’t see any movement in the trees, as if someone ran away when we approached,” Greggory agreed. “Lord, but that old woman spooked me. She didn’t even bother to look at my palm or read cards or anything before predicting doom.”

“She must think she’s a true clairvoyant.”

“Do you believe in any of that?”

Ewan regarded the younger man. He had dark circles under his eyes, and he remembered that the missing Jacob was his cousin. “It is best not to believe. This is just the situation where charlatans can get a toehold, claiming they know how to find a missing child. And Jacob’s father is dying as well. Now we’ll get people who claim they can contact his shade for information.”

“Is Matilda really going to marry him?”

“I think she will if she can find the time, but I think she should stay in Bristol. Something tells me Jacob is near. He could even be in a neighbor’s house, not that we could ever get inside.”

“Who would shelter Izabela?”

“Her lover, perhaps.” Ewan shrugged. “Though who would want a flighty, inconstant, immoral girl like that?”

Greggory grinned. “You haven’t seen Izabela. Even in shapeless nanny garb she’s a stunner. Has the proverbial smile that could launch a thousand ships.”

Ewan pursed his lips. “She could hang, you know, if the child is found dead and she is caught.”

Greggory shuddered. “Let’s go tell Matilda the bad news. Tomorrow we need to start over. If neither Bliven nor Majewski are responsible, who is?”

“We need another ransom note,” Ewan stated. How else would they find another path through the situation?

Back at Majewski’s
vardo
, the men collected Matilda and Mrs. Miller. They returned to their carriage, feeling the weight of the Gipsy’s unhappy gaze on their backs.

“Did you think we’d find him there?” Greggory asked, staring pensively at the lantern that swung in the corner of the carriage.

“I am not thinking anymore,” Matilda said. “It is too hard.”

“At least we found Majewski. I can stop walking Bristol, searching for taverns and camps.”

“Izabela’s lover might be another Gipsy,” Matilda said. “Who can say?”

Ewan watched Mrs. Miller. Expressions flitted across her face. Studiousness, confusion, recognition. She blinked hard, as if something had landed in her eye, but then her head turned.

“What?” he asked.

“I remember seeing a man in a fine suit pacing in front of the house the day before Jacob vanished,” she said. “I thought he was waiting for Miss Redcake to return.”

“But he wasn’t?”

“No,” Mrs. Miller said. “He was gone before Miss Redcake came, but now that I think about it, I didn’t see him after Izabela took Jacob to the park.”

“He was there late in the day?” Matilda asked.

“Late afternoon.”

Matilda frowned. “I thought she took him at about eleven.”

“Sometimes she took him twice, or I sent her out to do a bit of shopping. She’s a sharper girl than Daisy, and when my rheumatism was acting up, well . . .” Mrs. Miller’s hands fluttered above her skirts before settling again. Her head dropped. “I’ll be giving you my notice, Miss Redcake.”

“Not now you won’t.” Matilda’s voice cut the air. “You are not going anywhere. I will keep my household together until my son returns. Who can say what any of us knows? Something small might bring Jacob home.”

“Can you give us a description?” Ewan asked. “Of that man?”

Mrs. Miller stared at her hands. “Dark hair. But he had a hat on, of course, so I didn’t see much of it. A neat beard. The clothing was nice, though. I recognize a bit of good tailoring when I see it. My husband was a tailor.”

“Could you say what shop the suit came from?”

“Not a shop. Not ready made.”

“Someone wealthy, then. Where would Izabela meet a wealthy man? Did you take her to parties, Miss Redcake?”

Matilda snorted. “Who would invite me? You’re sure it isn’t some man who lives nearby?”

“I’ve never seen him before or since,” Mrs. Miller said.

By then, they were at the tavern. Greggory jumped down from the coach and consulted with Gawain and Sir Bartley, then came back. “No help there. We’re all returning to the house now.”

Ewan thought they must have all dozed on the dark drive back to the house. Every window of the four-story redbrick house blazed with light when they drove up, as if inviting the world to enter and tell their tales.

Everyone exited the carriage, but Matilda held back as her family and Mrs. Miller went inside. Then she turned to Ewan. “Let’s walk.”

“Where?”

“It doesn’t matter, but I cannot go inside yet.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“You haven’t been well.”

She slipped her hand around his arm. “You will keep me upright, Mr. Hales. I think I shall suffocate if I have to go in there again, listen to my mother flutter and worry about Rose’s wedding, hear Gawain complain about how difficult the situation is with Jacob, wonder if I should be on the road to London to marry Mr. Bliven before it is too late.”

“Don’t marry him,” Ewan said, squeezing her hand against his body.

“Why, Mr. Hales, one might think you care.”

“I
do care,” Ewan said. “I care very much.”

“Then walk with me. I cannot breathe inside my own house,” Matilda said, with the confidential air of a confessor.

Would she swoon again, or cry, or completely break down? Should he take her away from her family right now? Then again, they were the source of much of her immediate frustration. No one was focused on her. How could they be, with a missing child and a new birth and a canceled wedding? He needed to take her mind off her worries for a few stolen moments.

He pulled her away. They walked two blocks, past houses similar in size and consequence to Matilda’s own home. They were the kind of structures Ewan could never have hoped to obtain under his previous circumstances, though he supposed that now he would become accustomed to something even nicer. Someday he’d be going from rented rooms to Fitzwalter House in Mayfair, and country estates.

Matilda opened the gate to a private park, the same one where the dog had been found, the last place Jacob had been taken before he disappeared.

“I don’t think we should come here,” Ewan protested. “It will just make you sad.”

“How can I be anything but?” Matilda asked, releasing his arm and sitting on a bench where the nannies waited while their charges played.

“You need a release from all the sorrow,” he said. He stepped behind her and began to massage her neck. It was too intimate a gesture, and yet she held herself so stiffly that he couldn’t resist. Beneath his gloves he could feel the taut lines of the muscles under her skin. He pulled off his gloves so he could touch her with his own flesh.

She moaned softly when he palpated a particularly sore spot on the left side. It sounded like the noise a woman might make during the act of love, and it made him harden against the cold iron back of the bench. He felt guilty and more alive all at once. Could this be the way to give her troubled thoughts a rest?

“My hotel is just across the square. It’s too cold to sit here for long.”

“The bench is damp besides,” Matilda said, though she didn’t move. Then, though, she slowly let her head drop back, to rest against his belly. Her hat brim protected her from actual contact with his coat, but it felt like a surrender.

He felt a surge of power. She trusted him. “Do you want to go to my room with me?” His cock swelled in agreement with the notion of taking her there.

“I could use some privacy. I shouldn’t sit out here.”

“No, it isn’t wise,” he agreed, continuing to rub his fingers in small deep circles on the sides of her neck.

She tilted her head from side to side, and he could hear crackling noises as she moved. So stiff, poor girl, so tense. He moved forward, and his swollen cock brushed the iron again. They could both use some stress relief. If she went to his room, would she know what that meant, to him at least?

Her head lifted from his belly as wind rustled the trees. A carriage passed in the street, and he could hear a dog yipping, and another dog answer. Something darted across the ground in front of them. He saw her shoulders move as she shuddered.

“A rat?”

“It might have been a squirrel. I was just thinking of Sir Barks being left here during the day, when anyone might have taken him, never seeing the note.”

The truth being that the note might mean nothing or everything. They could only wait and see. He walked around the bench and held out his hand to her. “Come, Matilda.”

She stood obediently enough but lifted her chin to him. “Matilda?”

“Am I being too intimate?” He took her gloved hand between his bare ones, then slid his hands up her arm until he grasped her securely. “I think of you as Matilda. My Matilda.”

He let her go as she sighed, her entire body relaxing. “That’s nice. I would like to be someone’s Matilda. I need an anchor. I’m so lost, Ewan.”

“I know. Let me take care of you for a little while.”

“I need that. I’m afraid I won’t be able to go on if I can’t rest. I can’t eat. My entire body is betraying me.”

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her next to him as they went through the gate on the opposite side of the park, then walked down a block to the small hotel that was on the edge of the residential area. Empty and hushed, the streets seemed to be waiting for news. He hoped that news could wait for a while. His body hummed with awareness, with lust for the woman next to him. Could he make her forget her pain for a while?

The reception desk was empty as they walked in, and they were able to reach his small room on the second floor without anyone noticing them.

He shut the door and drew off his coat, then took off his hat and set it carefully on the table next to the door. He’d spent a lot of money on it, and it would be a long time before he lost the habit of parsimony.

Matilda didn’t smile at him, or even look at him really, as she took off her own hat, coat, and gloves. Her hair was matted, as if she’d sweated under the hat for hours. Maybe she had. It had been a hard day. Underneath she wore a simple, severe gray skirt and coat, well-tailored to her curves, something she could take on and off herself.

She unbuttoned and removed her coat without looking at him. At a loss for words, he went to the window to close the curtain. Light from a streetlamp outside provided their only illumination, but he could drop money into the gas meter to bring the lights in the room to life.

He pulled the curtains shut and went to the meter box. Her hand came down on his arm.

“Leave it off. I like the dark.”

His throat went dry. “Very well, Matilda.” Enjoying saying her name, he fumbled with his coat, as if he had never undressed in the dark before, though he was used to the light of a single candle.

He heard her exhale. Could she possibly be as aroused as he was? Was she in the same dreamlike state as he? His hands went to his suspenders, but then he remembered he still wore his shoes. He sat on the edge of the small bed and removed them, then cast off the rest of his clothing. She made small rustling sounds. He wanted to peek, but it took all his focus just to get his own clothing off.

Concentrating on his own nudity, he was surprised to see only her skirt on the bed next to him. Patiently, he waited, hearing the whispers of fine fabric, his very soul aching with desire to touch her. How long had it been since he’d done this? Could he last more than a minute? What did she expect from him? Release, certainly, and he needed to provide it.

Finally, the soft sounds of her movements quieted, and he felt rather than saw her come to stand in front of him. His mind was in turmoil, so buried in lust, the scent of her body revealed as her clothes came off, that he could not think rationally. Her hands touched his shoulders, then left. He heard the sounds of fingers against skin and lifted his own hand, felt strands of her hair falling around her shoulders as she took out the pins.

“I love your hair.” He kissed the flaming strands. The sweet scent of roses surrounded him as he buried his nose in the hair on her collarbone. It seemed to take a long time for her to find all the pins. Her hair covered her breasts, hanging to just below the small, full mounds. “I remember you used to seem larger in this area, though you were always slim.”

Her hands went to her chest. “Bust improvers. Such a silly vanity.”

He tugged her fingers from her soft flesh. “You have beautiful breasts. They need no improving.”

She pushed her hair off her neck so that it drifted down her back. He lifted his head so she could free all the strands.

“I don’t remember what I wanted three or four years ago. I am not the same person.”

He wasn’t sure he entirely agreed with that statement, but then, the Matilda Redcake of 1886 would not have undressed in Ewan Hales’s hotel room. As he lifted his hands toward her breasts, she remained still, so he touched the soft, satiny flesh with his fingertips, then circled her nipples before brushing them. They hardened. He leaned forward and softly kissed each one. Bolder now, he parted her legs with his own foot and sank to his knees in front of her, next to the bed.

She gasped. “Oh. What?”

Wrapping his arms around her smooth, warm, naked hips, he buried his face in her soft, musky curls.

“Oh,” she said again, as if in understanding.

He followed his desire down, using his lips and tongue to part the way to her inner secrets, oblivious to anything but the scent of her heat. Her pelvis canted toward him, welcoming and eager.

She let out a tiny shriek when his teeth closed over her pearl, already exposed for his delectation, but she didn’t push him away, just wrapped her hands around the base of his skull and drew him in, letting him lave her and suckle her and circle her until her knees buckled.

“I want this,” she panted. “Oh, Ewan, don’t stop.”

He had the presence of mind to turn her, then. She half-sat, half-fell against the bed, and then he could truly feast, licking up the nectar her arousal offered. He tested her with one finger, finding her shockingly tight, but as he drove her higher, she loosened enough for two. Sliding them both in, he blew warm air against her pearl, then sucked hard until she shattered a few seconds later.

She bowed on the bed, crying out and shuddering with tearful gasps of pleasure. He stood, almost staggering his one step to the bed, tugging her legs to turn her the long way, so he could mount her body. He didn’t give her a chance to second-guess his actions, just climbed up, rubbing his torso along hers as he lifted himself above her, and notched his body to hers. His cock jerked, felt damp at the tip with his own fluids. Grabbing her hips to angle her properly, shaking with eagerness, he pushed the head of his cock into her creamy depths. Still panting, she seemed watchful but said nothing.

“Matilda?” The word was etched with lust, almost staccato.

She put her hands to his cheeks and brushed her index fingers in a circle around his temples, then rubbed her cheek against his chin. Sensing her approval, he slid home, easily, luxuriously, sweetly, until he could feel his sac against her skin. When he covered her mouth with his, he found her lips apart and willing to trade tastes. Her hands grabbed his back and slid lower when he pulled away, mouths still together, guiding him back inside her.

She moved her hands rather than her hips to urge him on, but her legs bent to cradle him, and eventually, she slid her inner thighs alongside the outsides of his legs. Squeaking when he took her thighs in his hands to open her wide, the sound turned to a gasp of pleasure as he moved even deeper inside her.

All too soon, he could feel the pressure building in him. His mouth moved from her lips to her neck, his hips bucking uncontrollably. He felt her clasp at his cock with a silken interior grip, and heard her hoarse cry as she came with him, beautifully, inexplicably, for he hadn’t been a suave, experienced lover. Yet he had pleased them both.

His torso calmed over hers, feeling heavy even to him. His head relaxed onto the mattress, his mouth still on her neck. She moved her hips, as if testing to see if he was still hard. He was.

“Give me a second,” he muttered. He kissed her throat, then canted his hips, feeling the ghostly aftershock of his orgasm as he pulled out of her. Tilting to his back, he slid his arm beneath her slim shoulders and pulled her to his side.

Her head fell against his shoulder and she molded herself against him. “I just wanted the world to stop.”

“Did it?”

“It fell right off its axis for a few minutes.”

“But?”

“But.” She was silent for a moment, while he played with the strands of her hair. “I shouldn’t have taken my hair down.”

“I’ll braid it for you. I think I can remember how to do it.” He made a clumsy braid with the lower part of her hair.

“No, that’s not how I had it before.” She sat up abruptly and began to smooth the strands.

Sensing her mood change, he got up and started the lights, then found his comb. “Here, this will help.”

She nodded. He sat on the single cane-bottomed chair in the room and watched her make her toilette, offering his assistance, silently, only when she turned her back to him so he could help her with her stays.

“I’ll walk you back,” he said, then realized he was still nude.

 

Matilda took the chair Ewan had just vacated while he dressed, staring at the powerful lines of his body. His lower body was particularly well-developed, with strong legs and a taut backside. For all the dark hair on his head, he didn’t have that much body hair, just a light dusting around his pectoral muscles and a trail that led down to the soft nest around his manhood. This allowed all of his musculature to show, and his skin glowed golden in the gaslight.

“You must walk a great deal.”

“Hansoms are expensive and I don’t like buses,” he said, buttoning his shirt.

She watched him, feeling empty and peaceful, a slight soreness between her legs, until he finished dressing. He put on his coat and hat, then held out her coat, reticule, and hat. He held her coat while she shrugged into it, then did the buttons while she stood like a child. She didn’t want to think.

Thought returned when they reached the street. The wind blew through her clothing. The resulting shiver brought reality back. Where was Jacob? What if she had missed something while she was engaging in mindless passion with Ewan? How could he have taken a grief-stricken mother away from her home during a crisis of this magnitude? Was he a predator? He had already told her they could never marry, given his future title and her stained past. She knew for certain this lovemaking had not been a proposal. No, she’d learned that the hard way.

Oh God, what if she’d conceived another child? She keened softly, uncontrollably.

“Matilda? What is wrong?” Ewan wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.