Page 26 of A Lyon’s Promise (The Lyon’s Den)
K ing finally left Bow Street at half past four in the morning.
Their first stop, at Lieutenant Sampson’s home, had taken a bit longer than anticipated.
After Jackson had been patched up—twenty stitches in all—and bundled in a hired hack to take him home, King had finally had the opportunity to wash the rest of the blood off his hands and change into the spare clothing he kept at his office.
The predawn questioning of the four Bancrofts had gone as well as could be expected with their maintaining their innocence.
Johnstone, Ainsley, Wayne, and Greenwood would take a bit more time and encouragement.
Given the serious charges of kidnapping, they would still be waiting when King returned later to question them.
Time and further inquiries would be necessary to extract the truth from both groups of men.
As the hack drove toward Mayfair, King mulled over what Bancroft had been willing to impart. None of the information implicated any member of the Bancroft family in the crimes King suspected them of. The only way that would occur was if Bancroft realized his only option was to confess.
It would be in their best interests, once Bancroft found out Lucretia had access to copies of the legal documents the crooked solicitor thought he had burned.
King was convinced the vital information he needed to uncover Bancroft’s fraudulent plans and practices regarding Lucretia were contained in those documents, in particular Montfort’s last will and testament and its codicil.
He intended to be the one to bring the solicitor’s duplicity and criminal activities to light, and force Bancroft to make reparations.
A public apology would go a long way toward repairing Lucretia’s recently maligned reputation.
Satisfied that he had reasoned out his next line of questioning, King was more than ready to deal with what he suspected would be the next obstacle in their path to the truth—accessing Montfort’s papers.
The first thing he noted when the hack pulled up in front of Lucretia’s town house was the number of illuminated windows at this early hour.
Apparently his urging her to rest had been ignored, which left him to wonder if she been dealing with issues among her staff.
Best to find out without delay. He had convinced his physician to examine Lucretia’s injury, and expected him shortly.
Both agreed that if she had fractured a bone, it could lead to complications.
Without proper care, she ran the risk of losing mobility in her hand.
King paid the driver and strode to the front door. It opened before he could knock. Her butler’s thunderous expression did not bode well. “What’s happened, Weston?”
“You’re needed in the sitting room.”
King’s long strides covered the distance from the entryway to the sitting room. “Any unexpected visitors?”
“No.” Weston lowered his voice to add, “The trouble is from within.”
King knew then that it had to do with the two women he and Lucretia spoke of earlier. “Thank you for the warning. Is Lucretia alone?”
“Thompson and her maid are with her. The housekeeper adamantly refused to turn over the keys to his lordship’s dressing room or his desk.”
“Bloody hell. Leave it to me, Weston. I shall take it from here.”
“King.” Greeves seemed relieved to see him.
Lucretia must have encountered more resistance than either of them had expected.
He could only guess at what transpired while he had been butting heads with Jackson and the prisoners.
He rubbed the back of his neck to relieve the ache that had been nagging him from the moment they entered Bancroft’s building.
Weston knocked on the sitting room door and opened it when bidden to. “Mr. King to see you, your ladyship.”
“Thank you. Oh, and Weston?” Lucretia said.
“Yes, your ladyship?”
“Has the situation changed in the last half an hour?”
“I’m afraid not. We are at loggerheads. Shall I let them know reinforcements have arrived?”
King swallowed his snicker before it could escape. “I am but one man, Weston.”
“Ah, but when a powerful force such as yourself meets immovable objects—the cook and the housekeeper…”
King chuckled. “I appreciate the vote of confidence.”
As the door closed behind the butler, Lucretia rose from the settee and walked over to where King stood. “I am so glad that you’re here.”
He slipped an arm around her waist, worried when she leaned heavily against him. “Why did you not rest, as I suggested?”
A few muffled words, followed by an inelegant snort, came from somewhere between his cravat and the top button of his waistcoat.
The sound endeared Lucretia to him. She was resilient, persistent, obstinate, and had an adorable snort.
He bent to kiss the top of her head, inhaling her delicate scent, and was filled with a renewed sense of hope and an abiding love for her.
He could not wait until this afternoon’s vow taking.
King eased back and placed a knuckle beneath her chin. “Care to repeat what you just said to my rather wilted cravat?”
Her winsome smile reached her tired eyes, as if she were lit from within by a beam of sunlight. “Why not? I am already persona non grata in this household.”
“That shall be rectified in a few moments. First, tell me.”
Her smile was replaced with a frown. “If you must know, I said, ‘I do not relish being told what to do. Furthermore, in the future, I would appreciate your asking my opinion instead of making the same error in judgment, believing I would acquiesce to every dictate.’”
Surprised that she had taken his well-meant advice the wrong way, he tried to think of what to say to convince her that had not been his intent.
“I am no longer a starry-eyed miss in her first Season unaware of what marriage entails. I endured being married to Montfort and have been a widow for a decade. In my bid to keep the peace in this household—a rather large mistake on my part—I have unwittingly allowed those who should have been respectful to my position blatantly ignore my requests and wishes.” Her voice broke and she shifted in his arms.
King had no intention of letting her hide her emotions from him.
“I am used to being in charge of twenty men, most of whom are more than willing to do my bidding, as our goal is the same—to bring those who would subvert the law to justice.” Carefully extracting an errant curl that had tangled in her long, dark lashes, he tucked it behind her ear.
“I do not wish us to be at cross purposes, and I do not wish to tell you what to do, as I am quite certain it is the very last thing you expect after not having to answer to anyone for the last ten years.”
He brushed his lips to her forehead, then slid his hands beneath her ears and tilted her head back, drawing her mouth closer.
“This twisted tangle of emotions inside of me where you are concerned has led me to the conclusion that it can only be categorized as one thing—love.” Staring at the fullness of her lips, he rasped, “May I kiss you, Lucretia?”
She locked her arms around his neck and pressed her luscious curves against him.
Her mouth was a bounty he could feast on for the rest of his life.
Humbled by her offering, lost in the honey-sweet taste of her, King slid a hand to her waist. His fingertips brushed the curve of her hip before he placed his hand at her backside, anchoring her to him.
Potent desire shot straight to his loins as her moan changed to a gasp.
His ironclad control snapped into place, enabling him to move his hand and gentle his kiss.
“Forgive me. The taste of you went to my head.” Expecting to see temper, he was surprised by the confusion in her gaze. “Have I gone beyond the pale? Is there a promise you wish to gain from me before I receive absolution?”
“You stopped,” she whispered.
Feeling like the blackguard he was, he apologized again. “I never mean to take liberties. My behavior was beneath what you should have expected of me.”
Her confusion changed to worry. “Once we are wed, you will have the right to use me as you will.”
“Lucretia,” he groaned. “A man without a heart would use you. I need to hear your breath catch, see your eyes darken with desire. I want to pleasure you until you cry out my name and feel you tighten around me when I make love to you. I promise to show you the ecstasy that awaits after we release the madness building inside of us.”
She blinked and shook her head. “I believe my expectations as to what will occur in our marriage bed do not match yours.”
Her smile warmed him from the inside out. “Unlocking the desire inside of you, with you guiding me to touch and taste where it pleases you, avoiding where it does not, will be my greatest pleasure, love.”
The sounds of a scuffle outside the sitting room door had King placing Lucretia behind him. “Stay here while I see who is attempting to challenge Greeves.”
King strode to the door and opened it to find a footman with his hands behind his back—manacled in one of Greeves’s massive fists. “What seems to be the problem?”
“Jarvis here thought to distract me from my post.”
King saw Weston making his way toward them from the entryway, and the flash of anger in the butler’s gaze told him all he needed to know. “Jarvis, is it?” King did not wait for the younger man to reply. “I take it you are not acting on Weston’s or Lady Montfort’s orders.”
“Not if I want to keep receiving the extra coin.”
The lack of respect for Lucretia in her own household was appalling. “How much does Mrs. Riddleton pay you?”
“An extra quid—” As the answer left his lips, the footman realized his error. “Not that it’s Mrs. Riddleton who pays me.”
“Ah.” King inclined his head. “Then it would be Cook.”
“Now see here!” a high-pitched voice shouted from behind him. “I have nothing to do with the payments.”