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“I promise to tell you all about it, but now isn’t the time,” he said, and then noticing her disappointment, reached across and squeezed her hand, lingering long enough but not so long he’d become distracted. He wanted to soften his words, but in truth his desire to touch her motivated him more. “Now it’s your turn.”
“I was visiting friends last evening and one of them mentioned having seen something unusual the night of themurder. Alessandro was leaving Vauxhall on his way home and he saw a man in a long black coat enter the alleyway and jump on a stallion that was waiting there unattended.”
“And you think it was the murderer?”
“There’s no way to know, but the manwaswearing a long black greatcoat. Why would anyone leave a horse alone in the dark? It was the alleyway at the end of Langley Lane which is directly behind the pleasure paths if one was to pass through the hedgerow.”
“Is that possible? To exit through the hedgerow and reach the street? It looked dense in there and confusing, most especially in the dead of night.”
“It wouldn’t be easy, but I suppose there are a few areas where the shrubbery isn’t especially thick. We can walk the paths and look together if you’d like. Once I learned my way it wasn’t confusing at all, and if we find an area that appears trampled or damaged, it could prove someone inside left through the hedgerow and ran to the alleyway where his horse waited.”
“That’s an idea,” he muttered, wondering if Lola had learned her way through the close walks from her own curiosity or the frequency of personal visits there with a man.
“Thank you.” She offered him another smile. “Now it’s your turn.”
“I discovered Fremont was in serious debt. His bank accounts are nearly empty.”
“Oh, how terrible. Was Margaret upset?”
“I’m not sure she understood how much her brother drained the finances, but unless there are other monies kept somewhere, the accounts are in low water,” he said, frustrated he couldn’t connect the strange pieces of information. That note he’d found in the back of the ledger. That, perhaps, was the most worrisome part of it all. “Fremont and I quarreled the morning I left on my trip. He didn’t want me to leave London. He’d known aboutmy plans for months, and never said more than a few words. Then, on the morning I was to leave, he visited me and insisted I stay, although he wouldn’t give me a reason why he objected. It seemed unlike him to behave so selfishly. Afterward, I wondered if it had anything to do with me encouraging Margaret to look elsewhere for a husband. Otherwise, I don’t know what to make of it.”
“Was that the last time you spoke to him?”
“Here in London, yes. But we wrote each other often. Things went back to the way they’d always been. He never mentioned our quarrel and neither did I. I was looking forward to meeting him once I’d returned and was settled. Instead, Bow Street knocked on my door.” He paused and exhaled heavily. “I can’t help thinking he was already worried on that morning I boarded the ship for America and he needed my help and didn’t tell me. Nothing makes sense.”
Lola reached across and took his hand this time, lacing her fingers with his. “You can’t regret what you did not know.”
He looked at her lovely face and the genuine concern in her eyes. He wanted to learn more about the beautiful woman before him. He wanted to learn everything. Somehow in the past few days his curiosity had shifted into an unrelenting desire. Perhaps he was unknowingly enchanted from the start. And while they couldn’t come from more different worlds, aside from it all, they were woman and man, flesh and blood.
“It’s my turn,” he said, searching her face but not sure what he searched for.
“I’ve told you everything.”
“Who is Alessandro? You haven’t told me that.”
“He is an acrobat. Part of the Gallo tumbling act with his brother and sister. Sofia is my closest friend at Vauxhall. They live together in the rooms below me.”
She was so forthcoming, he hesitated in asking his next question, knowing it was a ruse to learn something that had nothing to do with Fremont’s death.
“And Marco?”
But she was too clever by half and that same playful smile curled her lips. “Marco is also a friend. We once were more than friends, but that ended over a year ago. He’s still protective at times and I suppose that’s normal, but I don’t like his hovering. I am no one’s responsibility but my own.”
He didn’t respond and instead reached for her, pulling her into his arms, her gown dragging across his legs, her body beneath the fabric a cruel temptation.
“Lola.” He gathered the lengths of her hair and let the silky strands sift through his fingers. “I don’t want to talk anymore. I want to kiss you.”
“Then kiss me, Theodore.” She reached up to remove his spectacles. Then she straddled his lap, her body pressed to his so close he could feel each syllable brush against his lips. “I want it as much as you do.”
It wasshameful to ask for a kiss. Scandalous to be draped across a gentleman’s lap. All the etiquette rules and deportment lessons from her youth were wasted and forgotten in the span of a heartbeat. But Lola didn’t care.
Something beyond coherent thought had control of her now.She wanted. Wanted with an ache inside that could only be satisfied with his kiss and more. She stroked her tongue across his lips, taking his mouth as she gripped his broad shoulders, all that strength and tension alive beneath her fingertips while deep inside her, desire surged, hot and insistent.
He met her challenge. Their tongues twined to rub and slide over and over, her breath coming rough and fast. She tightenedher thighs against his, their muscles tensed, as she settled further on his lap. Her skirt had wrapped her waist in disarray, but the hard press of his arousal was evident through the fabric and she reveled in the fact he was just as eager as she.
He held her around the ribs, his fingers splayed as if to lock her in place, while the carriage’s motion rocked her back and forth, producing the most delicious sensation between her legs. Need gathered and pulsed deep within her, demanding release. Just a little longer.
It took her a moment to realize the carriage had stopped.