Whitechapel Wagers 02 - Wanton Wager (6 page)

The hectic bustle of Samaritan Hospital’s admitting room overwhelmed Will from the moment he crossed the threshold. The sound of so many people—some crying, others moaning in pain—reminded him of the field hospital he had been taken to after his injury at Kandahar.

The smell of carbolic was different though. While they had striven for cleanliness in the field, a makeshift army tent hospital was simply not as well equipped as the efficient machine Will observed before him. Chaos reigned momentarily when a large group of injured men rushed in after an omnibus accident, but Will noted how each man was quickly assessed and sent off to the appropriate ward. Within moments the nurses had reasserted order to the admittance process.

An intense, dark-eyed woman in a starched white nursing costume approached him and asked about his complaint, all the while scanning him from head to toe, as if seeking his injury. He saw her eyes snag on his cane and then catalog the scar on his hand before she met his eyes again.

“Afghanistan or Africa?”

The diminutive woman had the deductive abilities of Sherlock Holmes, it seemed.

“Afghanistan, but it is no physical complaint that brings me to the Samaritan.”

This seemed to frustrate her, and she tipped back on her heels and looked up at him with far less interest than the moment before.

“The administrative offices have a separate entrance around the corner, sir. We are here to serve the sick and wounded.”

“And you clearly do it admirably.”

This seemed to mollify her somewhat and she let loose the minutest grin of appreciation.

“I am here to speak to one of your probationary nurses. Miss Ada Hamilton.”

Fear, unmistakable and raw, shadowed her eyes.

“Nurses may not have gentlemen callers of any kind, sir.”

“It is regarding her sister, and I thought she might wish to know immediately.”

The woman chewed on her lip and then looked back at the line of patients behind him, clearly torn between propriety and her eagerness to rid herself of him and get on to the people who truly needed her help.

“Sit yourself there, and I will fetch the matron to speak with you.”

Will glanced at his pocket watch some time later and was surprised to see that nearly one half of an hour had passed before a stern-faced woman dressed in black from head to toe marched toward him from a hallway off the admitting room.

“I am Matron Marley. I understand you wish to speak with me, sir.”

Will rose as gracefully as his stiff muscles allowed. The woman was so tall their eyes were on a level when he stretched to his full height of just over six feet.

“Thank you for your time, Matron. Truth be told, I came to speak with Miss Ada Hamilton. I understand she is a probationary nurse at the hospital and works here during the week.”

“Follow me, please.”

Will watched the woman stalk away as if the question of him following her was a forgone conclusion. He did not wish to follow her. He only wished to see Ada and tell her his suspicions about Beth after his meeting with Ashdowne.

Matron Marley waited for him inside a surprisingly sumptuous and neat-as-a-pin office outfitted with a massive cherry wood desk and bookshelves stacked with medical journals and ledgers. An impressive painting of the Samaritan Hospital, completed when it was recently constructed and still pristine, dominated the wall behind her desk.

“My I ask your name and interest in Miss Hamilton, sir?”

“Yes, of course. My name is Selsby, and I believe I may have some useful information pertaining to Miss Hamilton’s sister.”

“The girl who’s gone missing?”

He nodded and an expression of real distress passed over the woman’s face before her expression returned to the same grim set of mouth and eyes.

“That is tragic. I do hope they find her safe and sound. But I must inform you that Miss Adaline Hamilton is no longer in the hospital’s employ. She was dismissed just this morning. And I must say the incidence of a gentleman calling upon her this afternoon…” She indicated Will with the tilt of her head. “Well, it makes me even more certain about my decision.”

“I do not have a long acquaintance with Miss Hamilton, but I suspect you have lost a fine nurse. Why was she dismissed?”

“That is not a matter I am at liberty to divulge. Perhaps Miss Hamilton would care to enlighten you.”

***

Will wasn’t looking forward to his next encounter with The Golden Bell’s less than friendly giant of a barkeep. The man had begrudgingly served him a drink after his first meeting with Miss Hamilton, but Will suspected it was just because the barman realized Will would soon be out the door.

The pub was crowded for a Monday afternoon, but the burly man seemed to notice Will the moment he crossed the threshold. The man’s look was no more welcoming, and this time the giant left his post behind the bar and approached Will.

“You ‘ave no business ‘ere, my
lord
.” The man spoke the word
lord
as if it was the most offensive of curses, as if he was calling Will the Whitechapel murderer and every other kind of monster.

“I am no lord. And my business here is with Miss Ada Hamilton.”

Will took a step forward and sidestepped the man, hoping to bypass him completely. But a heavy arm, as thick as the trunk of healthy tree, shot out, not touching him but preventing him from passing.

“That lady is already crying ‘er eyes out over yer meddling and lies.”

Will remembered how Ada had cried over her sister the first night he’d met her. He suspected she had shed many tears in the last week, and he was determined to alleviate her misery in the only way he could. She may not wish to know him as he wished to know her, but he would help her find her sister.

“I must speak with her. About her sister.”

At those words, the man lowered his arm, though he continued to glare at Will as he made his way past him. Will suspected the man watched him all the way up the stairs to the Hamilton family’s lodgings.

He rapped on the door only once before it creaked open and a child, eyes red rimmed and sad, opened the door to him.

“Hello. Might I speak with Miss Ada Hamilton?”

Will was shocked when the child smiled at him, a wide, genuine expression that lit up her small face.

“You’re the man with the pleasant voice.”

“Vicky, come away from the door, dear.”

Ada did not look as though she had been crying. She looked lovely, and the gaze she directed at Will set his body alight—the same sizzle of heat he always felt when she was near.

“Please come in, Mr. Selsby.”

Will was surprised at the ease with which she invited him into her home. He had feared she might turn him away.

He entered the same family living area where he had first met Ada. She shooed her sister off into another room and offered him tea before they seated themselves at a table in the corner. A delicately woven white doily covered the table and a small vase of wildflowers, blue cornflowers, added a homey touch to the space.

She looked at him expectantly with eyes as vibrantly blue as the flowers and Will began.

“I spoke with Lord Ashdowne. If your sister was determined to find him, it seems she may have gone to—“

“Derbyshire.”

“You already knew.”

She grinned but he saw no amusement in her now greener than blue eyes.

“My mother told me today that Beth confided in her regarding her relationship with Lord Ashdowne.”

She paused and Will could sense her weighing how much to say to him and how much she should shelter her sister.

“Beth told my mother that she was with child.” She looked down as she said the words, as if shame for her family prevented her from meeting his gaze.

Will longed to reach for her, to reassure her, but he knew propriety demanded he keep his urges to himself.

“Mother says Beth intended to seek out Lord Ashdowne in Derbyshire, at his family’s estate. She cannot recall the name of it.”

“Wythorpe.”

“I must go there. I must find out what’s happened to her.”

“Then let me accompany you.” The words were out of his mouth before any thoughts of propriety or decorum could restrain them. His desire to be near her, to help her, overrode every other impulse.

She had been sitting beside him, leaning toward him, but upon hearing his offer she stood and began pacing the length of the narrow room.

A gentleman would apologize. But propriety be damned.

“The Samaritan Hospital has dismissed me.” She stopped pacing to gaze at him, as if waiting for his reaction.

“I called there. I spoke to Ashdowne and wanted to share my suspicions with you immediately. Matron Marley informed me of your dismissal. I fear I might have made the whole matter worse by calling on you.”

She sighed, concern creasing her brow.

“Did she tell you why?”

“She would not.”

He could not imagine what she might have done to merit such treatment.

“Lady Harriet is a patron of the hospital, it seems. She sent a letter to the administration requesting my removal from the nursing staff.” Ada pulled a folded piece of paper from her skirt, unfolded it, and held it out to him.

Will reached for the paper, expecting to read Lady Harriet’s letter, to learn what the woman might have written to lose Ada her position at the hospital. Instead he read a letter addressed to Ada informing her that she had passed her examinations.

He looked up to find her watching him intently.

“The letter arrived in the post today.”

“Well done, Miss Hamilton.”

She smiled and the beauty of it lit up the room. At least for a moment, the pleasure she felt at her accomplishment outweighed any disappointment over the loss of her position at the Samaritan.

But curiosity nagged at him.

“Lady Harriet. What could she have said?”

Will was sorry to have spoken the words, for Ada’s smile faltered, and she shied again, unable to meet his eye.

He approached her, and she finally tilted her head up to look at him. His breath came faster and his heartbeat hitched, sounding the tattoo of a drumbeat in his ears. She affected him like no other woman he had ever met.

Her voice was quiet, almost as if she didn’t wish him to hear the words she spoke.

“She informed the administration that I am Lord Ashdowne’s doxy.”

Her gaze did not waiver from his as she said the word, and she tilted her chin a fraction, as if daring him to look away, as if he might believe Lady Harriet’s claim.

But it was nonsense. The Ashdowne siblings seemed determined to bring misery to the Hamiltons, and it enraged him.

Will moved to retrieve his hat. Surely there was something he could say to Matron Marley to convince her to reinstate Ada. He would deal with Lady Harriet Ashdowne later.

As he turned, he felt Ada’s hand on him, small but firm against his coat sleeve.

“Where are you going?”

“To speak to Matron Marley.”

“No. It’s for the best. You needn’t speak to Matron Marley.”

The shock of her touch nearly equaled his surprise at her calm regarding the situation.

“You no longer wish to be a nurse?”

Her answer was instant and emphatic. “Yes, very much, but most of all I wish to find my sister. My worry for her consumes me. I am little use as a nurse or anything else until I find her.”

Ada smiled at him then—a tender, affectionate expression that stole his breath. “But thank you.”

Beyond her beauty and strength, Will glimpsed a woman who looked at him and saw more—more than a wounded man, more than a wretch who had come to Whitechapel for dishonorable reasons. Her gaze searched him, sifted his very soul, and seemed to find something there worth cherishing.

“Is he a lord as well then?”

Her mother’s words echoed in Ada’s mind as she settled into the plush first class train carriage and knew the first moments of contentment she’d felt in days. Taking action, going to look for Beth, felt right. And she was not alone. Whatever his reasons, however long he would abide with her, Mr. Selsby was her ally, and one she sorely needed.

Looking around at the details of finely-stitched upholstery, polished wood and brass, and the pretty little blanket that had been provided to warm her, she felt a bit like a grand lady. And it was easy to imagine Mr. Selsby as a lord
It wasn’t just to do with his fine clothing and proper manners. Despite whatever injury caused him to rely on his cane and stiffen in pain when he thought no one was looking, he carried himself with an air of confidence and authority that, Ada noticed, made other men make way for him. He and his sister had mentioned his time in the army, and Ada thought he must have commanded men.

He certainly commanded her attention. Though they had the carriage to themselves at the moment, Mr. Selsby had very properly chosen to sit across from Ada rather than by her side. Her disappointment at not having him near was only alleviated by the prospect of studying him as he read The Illustrated London News.

She’d noticed his hands the first night she met him, and not just because of the scars. His fingers were long and elegant, and she imagined they would have served him well as a surgeon, if that was what he’d hoped to be. She could easily imagine him as a doctor. Beyond the pain she saw in his eyes, there was kindness. And as Vicky constantly reminded, he had a very pleasant voice, just the kind to put a wary patient at ease.

Though he sat up, back straight, his long legs encroached across the space between them, and Ada relished the feel of them pressing against her skirt. She inched her boots out toward him, her feet on either side of his. The desire to touch him, to draw closer to him, was overwhelming.

He moved the newspaper in his hands and she could finally glimpse his eyes over the edge. Gaze moving over the lines of type, he did not seem nearly as distracted by her presence as she was by his. If only he would lower the newspaper a bit more, she could study his lips. Though they would prove the most distracting of all. She knew what his lips could do.

“My sister sometimes studies me as fixedly.” He lowered his newspaper and folded it neatly before setting it aside. “Usually when she thinks I’ve been up to something dastardly and is determined to suss it out.”

“Are you often up to something dastardly?”

He grinned, the movement revealing charming dimples on each side of his face. Ada had studied the anatomy of the human body enough to know it was impossible, but she was certain her heart flip flopped in her chest.

“Not as often as she thinks I am. Not as often I used to be.”

It was hard to believe a man with such beautiful eyes could ever be dastardly. Despicable acts were best left to men like Ashdowne and the monster they called the Whitechapel Ripper.

“You’re reformed then.”

Ada meant her words to be taken lightly, but Will turned his head toward the train car window and looked out onto the rain-soaked landscape beyond. A ghost of a grin still curved his mouth, but his eyes were contemplative.

“Let’s just say I have learned my lesson.”

He turned his gaze back to her, and Ada felt the same enveloping heat he had stoked the first night she met him. He looked into her eyes, but she felt him deeper, as if he could reach inside and explore all the thoughts and feelings she kept hidden.

“I don’t think you have.”

This provoked a stunning smile. It made him look rakish, as if naughty deeds were not foreign to him at all.

“No? What makes you say so, Miss Hamilton?”

“Ada.” It was so forward, too much familiarity for a man she had only known for a handful of days, but she wanted that intimacy with him. She wanted to hear him say her name. “Please call me Ada, Mr. Selsby.”

“Ada.” Though her name consisted of two short syllables, he made it sound effusive, a lavish confection he planned to savor. He leaned in, repeated her name huskily, more quietly than any word he had said to her so far. “Ada, you must call me Will. And you must tell me why you think I have not learned my lesson.”

Her clothes had fit perfectly a moment before, but now they made her body itch. The heat in her limbs, the sense of melting, fired her cheeks. Ada clutched her dress with both hands, needing to keep them busy so that she did not reach for him. She wanted to provoke him, wanted him closer.

“Because you are taking a train journey with an unmarried woman. Alone.”

He looked down, seeming to study the folds of her dress, noticing her hands clutching the fabric.

“I am better behaved than you know, Ada.” He looked up slowly as he spoke, letting his gaze trail over her lap and up the row of buttons on the front of her blouse, hesitating at her mouth, and finally meeting her gaze. “There is so much more I would like to do with you.”

She had done it now. Whatever threshold of propriety separated them, kept them from touching each other, tasting each other, stripping away clothing and artifice and manners and seeking the pleasure they would surely find together—that threshold was crossed. And she didn’t want to go back.

Ada reached for him, aching to kiss him. She touched the firm line of his jaw, traced the light stubble with her fingers. But he didn’t kiss her mouth, merely turned his head to lay a kiss against her palm.

His hands were busy elsewhere, reaching down, gathering the edge of her skirt and petticoat, lifting them slowly, skimming his fingers along her legs. His hands moved higher, higher—she ached for him to reach the top of her cotton stockings, to feel his fingers against her bare flesh.

“These skirts have been tormenting me all day.” He shook his head. “No, not your skirts.” Her skirts were bunched around his arms, and he reached under one of Ada’s legs, lifting it so that her boot heel rested on the edge of his bench seat. “The thought of these legs, this soft skin. That’s what drives me mad.”

His left hand closed around her thigh, and she felt his fingertips against her bare skin. He reached higher still, slipping his fingers inside her drawers.

Ada hissed and nearly let out a cry of frustration when Will stopped, as if he meant to release her, as if he feared he had crossed the line.

“Please.” She meant to ask him to touch her, to love her and not to stop, but she could only manage the single word.

He kissed her then, his mouth touching hers tenderly at first before he sought more—tasting her, teaching her. Their lips met again and again, drawing more from other every time they touched.

Ada felt his fingers slide further, deeper inside her draws, until they touched the curls at the apex of her thighs.

After another kiss—as deep as she wished his fingers to be, as wet as the moistness between her legs—he pulled back to watch her. Ada bit her bottom lip to hold back the cry she longed to release, and she held still, though she wanted to move. She wanted to push against his finger, feel more, stoke the pressure building inside her body.

“Should I stop, Ada? We are treading close to the edge.”

She moved then, to show him, to tell him with her body that she wanted him, wanted all of him. “Don’t you dare stop.”

He moved and the pleasure-pain of his finger breached her core, claiming her as no man ever had. He kissed her as he drew closer, leaning into her, his finger sliding inside her slick heat.

Ada relished the press of his body over her, the slip of his finger inside her, and she wanted more. With one hand she reached for his lapel, tugging at it, needing him as close as she could have him, and she moved her other hand around his neck, raking her fingers through the hair at his nape.

A shudder began to rock her. She felt it building, igniting at every point their bodies met, and swelling out, down her legs, her arms, tickling up her spine, until she trembled in his embrace. Waiting. Just on the precipice.

He touched her deftly, each movement more delicious, pushing her further. He released her mouth and moved his lips across her cheek, up near the shell of her ear.

“Let go, love. I’ll be here to catch you.”

When his teeth grazed the tender skin of her earlobe, Ada let go—falling, soaring, trembling and crying out, caring nothing for who might hear her.

And when she could breathe again, could think again, he was there, just as he promised. He’d given up any pretense of propriety and sat beside her, holding her, his lips pressed to her temple.

Ada turned so that she might fit more snuggly against him and realized he was trembling, just as she had been moments before.

Pulling back, she gazed up at him and he grinned down at her, and not just with his mouth but with his eyes. It was the first time she looked at Will and did not discern sadness in his gaze.

The words on the tip of her tongue were straight from her heart but Ada feared letting them out. Only days before she would have considered a man such as William Selsby far above her station, but now she was closer to him—more intimate with him—than she had ever been with anyone in her life.

“That was—”

“You look—”

Ada smiled and Will shook his head. They must learn to take turns speaking, it seemed.

The thought made Ada consider the future and a wave of anxiety crashed in, washing away the moment of ease and contentment. Would there be a future with Will? It was difficult to consider any future at all. In her mind’s eye, all she saw was Beth’s face. How could she plan her own future when she did not know her sister’s fate?