Page 13 of A Lady Most Wayward (The Queen’s Deadly Damsels #5)

It was enough to push Olivia past the fraction of space existing between them. Pressing her mouth against Philippa’s sinfully stained lips, bursts of sweet, sharp sensation coalesced in her belly and exploded out like sparks.

Philippa’s hand tightened in her hair, tugging just hard enough to feed the flames of Olivia’s desire. Philippa moaned a throaty sound of pleasure that hummed over Olivia’s lips.

Emboldened by Philippa’s response, Olivia licked the seam of her mouth and thrilled as the duchess opened to her. She tasted of whiskey and wild winter wind.

Olivia gripped Philippa’s hip, pulling her closer, hating the layers of skirts between them. Philippa pressed her thigh between Olivia’s legs, a soft promise of sweet friction.

Perhaps Philippa was making good on her query, trying to taste Olivia’s words.

She slid her tongue over Olivia’s in a velvet slide, exploring in languid sips and bold thrusts.

Heat washed up Olivia’s body, her heart thudding painfully in her chest. She wanted more.

Needed the weight of Philippa’s body holding her to earth, reminding her she was real and alive and still vital.

Diving intrepid fingers into Philippa’s glorious hair, she broke the kiss and tugged Philippa’s head back, exposing the elegant column of her throat.

Olivia pressed her mouth just beneath Philippa’s jaw in a gentle caress before nipping hard enough for Philippa to gasp.

It was glorious to hold such a powerful woman in her arms and feel her body soften against Olivia.

A throat cleared, loud and shocking in the quiet room.

Philippa stumbled back as Olivia looked over her shoulder to the door. The innkeeper’s wife stood with a tray in her hand.

‘My ’usband really was sniffing up the wrong skirts. I ’ate to innerupt but I ’ave your supper.’ She walked far enough into the room to deposit the tray on the desk next to the door.

‘We were just, erm…’ Olivia grasped for any plausible reason why she and Philippa would be in such a compromising position. The woman could call the guard. Accuse them of being inverts. Have them thrown from the inn for their immoral behaviour.

‘I’m sure your friend ’ere had summink down ’er throat and you were jus’ tryin’ to ’elp ’er get it out.

I’m no stranger to ladies ’aving passionate friendships ’ere abouts.

’oo doesn’t need a chuckaboo to stay warm on cold nights like this?

’ The woman winked at Olivia. ‘If I reported every person in this inn doing summink left of the moral centre, I wouldn’t ’ave a customer to serve or a pot to piss in.

You ladies ’ave a good night. But do yerselves a favour and make use of that lock.

’ She gave a hearty laugh and turned, shutting the door behind her.

Philippa walked to the door, doing just as the woman instructed. When she turned back to Olivia, her cheeks were flushed and her gaze focused on the window instead of Olivia’s face. ‘Well. That was… I’m not sure exactly. But it shouldn’t have happened. And it won’t happen again.’

Why shouldn’t it have happened? Because I’m not worthy of the grand duchess? Just a weak woman who did terrible things out of panic and desperation?

Olivia pressed her lips together, refusing to voice her questions for fear of the answers. ‘Fine. Good. I should hope not. Are you convinced at least that I’m not lying about Europe?’

Philippa refused to answer, instead shifting her focus to the tray.

Lifting the linen cloth draped over their food, she inspected the two bowls of steaming stew as if they might contain the clues to eternal life.

She sniffed. ‘It smells edible.’ Taking a bowl and spoon, she sat on the one chair available.

Olivia rolled her eyes at the ridiculousness of their situation.

She strode to the tray, ripped a healthy chunk of bread from the loaf sitting next to her bowl, and plopped it into the rich stew.

Philippa was wrong. It didn’t smell edible.

It smelled divine. Carrots, potatoes, onions, and chunks of mutton swam in a thick broth spiced with salt, pepper, rosemary, and thyme.

Her mouth began to water. She took her food to the bed and perched on the edge.

It was an awkward meal, but the food tasted as delicious as Olivia imagined. Philippa opened the bottle of wine that the innkeeper provided and filled one of the two glasses.

‘What fine manners you have. I would have thought a duchess with such esteemed friends as the Queen of bloody England would at least have the decency to offer me a glass of wine.’

Philippa raised a perfectly sculpted brow and sipped before answering. Olivia ignored the clench of her belly as the duchess licked a droplet of wine from her lips.

Damn the woman for being so…

Beautiful? Smug? Desirable? Dominant?

Yes. Exactly.

Olivia knew she was conducting a silent conversation with herself. But as the duchess refused to participate, she had little choice.

‘You are not my guest. You are a suspect. If you want wine, come and pour it yourself.’

Olivia stood, placing her now empty bowl back on the tray and grabbing the bottle in jerky motions.

She sloshed wine into her glass and took a hearty swallow.

Philippa had to tilt her head up to watch Olivia, and Olivia saw the flare of her pupils as she wiped a droplet from her mouth with the back of her hand.

Good. I shouldn’t be the only one damned by my desires.

‘You have disliked me from the start, but it matters not.’

‘I dislike you because you are shielding the leader of a nefarious group of men intent on harming innocent children for their own gain.’

The burst of tart and spicy grapes turned to vinegar on Olivia’s tongue. Because Philippa was right. She turned and walked back to the bed. ‘I’m not shielding him. I’m shielding another innocent child from harm. My daughter. He will take great pleasure in destroying her if I don’t keep my promise.’

Philippa leaned forward. ‘What promise?’

Olivia exhaled a shaky breath. Even sharing this much might prove disastrous.

But if she could get the duchess to believe her, trust Olivia even the smallest way, she might aid Olivia in getting her daughter out of England.

Far enough away from the Crow to ensure Hyacinth’s safety.

What happened after that mattered little.

‘I promised to help Percival in securing orphans for the Crow.’ Admitting her sins only increased her shame. ‘And I swore no matter what, I would never reveal the Crow’s identity.’

‘Your brother told me he is willing to take your daughter into his custody and protect her. Isn’t that a better fate for Hyacinth than living on the run with you?’

Olivia shook her head so violently, wine spilt from her glass and trickled down her hand.

‘He can’t protect her. No one can. Except me.

You’ve no idea how powerful the Crow is or how far his influence extends.

’ How she wished she could pour out everything to Philippa.

To divest herself of the burden and let someone else carry the weight of responsibility.

But even if Philippa believed her, which was unlikely, if the Crow suspected her disloyalty, her daughter’s life would be compromised.

He would find a way to get to Hyacinth, and he would kill her.

She was fairly certain her daughter’s location was unknown to the Crow, but he had spies everywhere, and England was merely an island.

It was only a matter of time before they were discovered.

‘I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what you know.’

‘And I can’t tell you what I know until Hyacinth is safely away.’

Philippa tapped a finger against her lip, drawing Olivia’s attention to the curve of her delectable mouth.

She’s trying to distract me. Minx. That’s my trick, and I won’t be played by my own tactics.

Forcing her focus back to the woman, Olivia ignored the memory of Philippa’s teeth scraping over her skin.

‘Then we are at an impasse until we reach your daughter.’

Olivia nodded. ‘Exactly.’

Philippa stood, placing her glass on the tray. She brushed her hand down the wrinkled skirt. ‘I hate these clothes.’

Humour tilted Olivia’s lips into a smile. ‘I knew you would.’

The duchess picked up her carpet bag and hauled it to the other side of the bed, plunking it onto the mattress.

Unclasping the leather strap, she rustled through the contents.

Lifting her head, Olivia had to bite her cheek to stop the giggle from bursting free.

The poor woman looked horrified. ‘Is everything in here some variation of pink, lavender, or mint?’ She pulled out a white lacy nightgown and shook it at Olivia. ‘Are you jesting?’

She couldn’t hold back the laughter any longer.

It felt decadent to give herself over to an emotion so light and frothy, if even for a moment.

Perhaps the wine was stronger than she thought.

‘You might want to look in my bag.’ It had been Ivy’s idea to play a trick on the duchess, but Olivia was enjoying herself immensely.

Even if her joy was temporary and aided by wine.

Philippa narrowed her gaze and stalked over to the other bag, not bothering to bring it to the bed. She crouched down and unclasped it, shoving the mouth open wide. ‘These are my clothes.’

Olivia wiped away a tear of mirth. ‘Ivy wanted to see you in a colour other than black. I didn’t think you would agree to wear that.

’ She tipped her chin at Philippa’s lavender gown.

‘What lengths you’ll go to in order to get your man.

Or woman, I suppose.’ Hopping off the bed, she snagged the nightgown from where Philippa had tossed it and swayed her hips slightly more than necessary as she made her way to the changing screen.

‘I suppose we should get some sleep. I fear our coachman will want to make an early start.’

* * *

Philippa was going to kill Ivy. Right after she murdered Olivia. The woman was inflaming more than just her rage, and Philippa couldn’t forgive herself for acting so recklessly.

I kissed her. What was I thinking? That I wanted to do far more than kiss her. And what does that make me? What would Liza say about my behaviour?

But for the life of Philippa, she couldn’t conjure Liza’s face or imagine her censure. That alone was enough reason to never again allow herself to be so weak with Olivia.

Lady Smithwick was guilty of aiding the Devil’s Sons’ leader in heinous crimes. Nothing about her should appeal to Philippa, yet even now, she watched the shadowy figure hidden behind the changing screen, and her body ached in places long forgotten.

Mayhap she isn’t lying. We are all capable of doing terrible things to protect the ones we love.

No. She would not entertain such ideas. Her mind was trying to justify the needs of her body, and Philippa would not allow such hypocrisy.

But if her child’s life is at risk, can I truly blame her for doing what she must to protect Hyacinth? Would I not do the same to ensure Hannah’s safety? Or Millie’s? Or Penny’s? Or Ivy’s… even if she did force me into this hideous dress?

Philippa shook her head. Olivia was a consummate liar. A seducer of men. If not a member of the Devil’s Sons, at least complicit in their crimes. Her motives did not justify the actions she took in helping Percival.

A soft sigh came from behind the screen as Olivia’s corset flipped over the top of it and hung like a white flag of surrender. But Philippa was no fool. The woman wasn’t surrendering anything.

Philippa needed to keep her focus on the case and secure Olivia’s confession.

‘The sooner the better,’ Philippa murmured.

Olivia emerged from behind the screen in the frilled nightgown.

‘Did you say something?’

The cotton hugging Olivia’s form so closely was of fine quality. If the room had decent lighting, Philippa would have been able to discern the shape of Olivia’s breasts. Mayhap even determine the colour of her nipples.

Not that I want to know.

Philippa blinked hard. ‘No.’ She turned back to her carpet bag and was relieved to find a silk set of pants and a sleeveless shirt. Her preferred nightclothes in comforting indigo blue so dark it looked black.

Olivia climbed into the bed they would be sharing, and Philippa slipped behind the dressing screen and twisted into a variety of embarrassing positions to reach the buttons running down the back of her dress.

Once the wooden clasps were free, she quickly divested herself of the dreaded gown.

Donning her nightclothes, she folded the dress and considered throwing it on the fire, but that seemed excessively wasteful.

‘Will you blow out the candle on your side?’ Olivia had already doused one of the flames. Her hair was loose, and it coiled around her face in wild disarray. Her bare arms peeked out of the blanket, pale and glowing in the dim light.

Philippa’s pulse thudded at her wrists, behind her ears, in her chest where her heart stuttered.

It was going to be a long night.

Rubbing her finger against her thumb, Philippa approached the bed and willed her nerves to settle. This was ridiculous. She was just sharing a bed, nothing more. But tension tightened her limbs and made it difficult to take a deep breath.

‘Goodnight, Philippa.’ Olivia didn’t smile. She didn’t lick her lips or bat her eyes. She didn’t coil her hair around a delicate finger. She just held Philippa’s gaze with her own steady green one.

My God. What does she see? The duchess? The Queen’s Deadliest Damsel? Or just me?

It was a terrifying thought. For while Philippa was used to garnering more than her fair share of attention as the infamous Duchess of Dorsett.

The Queen’s confidante. Winterbourne’s untouchable widow.

A striking femme fatale with sharp features and even sharper wit.

Few people saw her as simply a woman. Flesh and blood. Fears and flaws. Desires and doubts.

But I think she sees all of it… all of me.

Troubling indeed.