Page 14

Ten

The brawl had gone exactly as Simon had planned it.

Carstone was an overly pompous dandy who had no business challenging anyone in the ring besides other overly pompous dandies.

Simon didn’t mind it, though. It had earned him a tidy sum that he could put aside, assuming Brody kept his word and released him from his debt after the grittier fight Brody was arranging.

He had been swarmed by congratulations and celebrations since the fight ended.

Leigh, Rothschild, and Devonworth had only just left, and he had ensconced himself in the small room off the service corridor that led to the gymnasium.

It was a changing room for members who exercised in the gymnasium.

The walls were lined with cupboards and shelves, and benches were scattered throughout the room.

Simon planned to make use of the shower bath in the back corner before going out to join in the victory celebration.

He peeled off his sweat-stained shirt and set about unwrapping the bindings from his hands.

Aside from a couple of nicks on his face and a few knuckles, he hadn’t been bloodied.

His still-tender ribs were already starting to ache; nothing a bit of whisky wouldn’t solve.

Finished with the batten, he tugged at the lacing on the front of his breeches, but a knock on the door halted his progress.

Muttering a curse at the interruption, he turned off the water and made his way to the door.

He never expected to see Eliza Bloody Dove standing there looking at him with her wide and innocent eyes and her absurdly pretty face.

“Wot the hell—?” he started to ask but then slammed the door shut.

He had no time to deal with her tonight.

He turned to go back to his grooming, but a terrible thought stopped him cold.

What if someone saw her out there and started questioning why the American was sniffing around his dressing room?

What if they thought he’d compromised her?

He’d lose his job. Or worse, to save herself she might very well be forced to share the secret she hadn’t yet told. Fuck.

He opened the door and she still stood there, though she was frowning this time.

Grabbing her arm, he pulled her none too gently into the room and slammed the door behind her, locking it for good measure.

He pressed his hands into the door on either side of her, caging her in.

She sputtered, momentarily taken aback. He could kiss her now, hard.

Make her wish she’d never knocked on his door.

Touch her in ways that would offend her and send her running away from him for good.

He took her head into his hand to do that, his fingers digging into the glossy brown hair piled at the nape of her neck.

But he couldn’t. The dumbstruck haze in her eyes faded into the sweet honeyed look of trust mixed with something like respect that she sometimes got when she looked at him.

They were precious things that he couldn’t take from her.

“Someone should take ye over their knee and give ye a good spanking,” he growled.

“Are you volunteering for the task, Mr. Cavell?” She blinked up at him.

God, he’d like to. “Wot are ye doin’ here, Miss Dove?”

“Your accent has come out of hiding, I see.”

He wanted to wipe the smirk off her face.

The problem was, the only way he could think to do that was to kiss her.

Since it couldn’t be rough, it would be soft and wet and lead to things that were out of the question.

He turned to stalk away from her, taking several deep breaths until he had calmed down enough to speak again.

“What do you want with me, girl? You shouldn’t be here.

You could get me into a lot of trouble.”

She glanced over her shoulder at the door, uncertainty reflected in her face.

“I don’t want to get you in trouble. I took precautions.

Everyone thinks you’re changing and alone.

” He wasn’t reassured by that, a state of events she must have suspected, because she came over to him and put her hand on his arm.

“No one saw me come in, except for Jenny and Lord David—”

“Lord David? Of Strathmore? That Lord David?” He paced again to get out the nervous energy her very presence caused in him.

“Yes, but he won’t say anything. He’s doing his best to impress my sister and wouldn’t dare betray our trust in him.”

That did very little to reassure him. “What do you want?” He turned quickly and almost ran into her because she’d followed him.

“I told you already. I thought I was very clear.” When he merely stared at her, she said, “I want you to take me out for a night.”

Impossible.

“I thought I already told you no.”

She shook her head. “You said that you would think about it.”

He took in a breath for patience. “I cannot take you. It’s too dangerous, and don’t you threaten to tell everyone the secret you carry. If you were going to you would have already.”

“I can pay you.” Her eyes were resolute, and she brought her handbag up to rifle through it. His gaze flicked down and was caught by the swell of her bosom. He looked away because he enjoyed looking a little too much.

She pulled out some folded bills. “It’s yours if you’ll take me. One night. That’s all.”

He stared at the money, but of its own volition his gaze went back to the swell of her breasts.

They weren’t too large, but not small, either.

He reckoned they would be a nice handful with pink crests and…

Aware of where his attention was focused, she took in a shuddering breath that broke the spell. His eyes met hers.

“Why is this night in Whitechapel so important to you?”

An internal battle played out over her face. She didn’t know how much to tell him, but he wouldn’t do this for anything less than the full, unvarnished truth.

“What do you remember about the night we first met?” she asked, her voice low, almost a whisper. It drew his gaze to her mouth and her soft pink lips.

He remembered that he’d called her Angel. “Tell me.”

She took in a long and wavering breath. “I’m engaged to be married to a man I barely know.

My entire future will be an endless round of social occasions: balls and weddings and teas and political dinners.

To top it off, I’m fairly certain I’ll have to give up my dream of going to a university.

So few accept women, and I can’t believe that Mainwaring will countenance such things of his wife anyway.

All of that might be bearable if I loved him.

But he is even now cavorting across the Continent and having relations with prostitutes, and he’s so proud of that fact that he and his friends are keeping score on that blackboard.

” She pointed in the direction of the very room of their first meeting.

As he recalled, there had been several check marks added since that night.

There was a twinge in the vicinity of his heart.

It wasn’t that he didn’t feel for her; it was that he found it difficult to empathize with her making a decision that she knew was bad for her. “Then why are you marrying him?”

“Because it would be stupid not to. My fa…my god father, Mr. Hathaway, is in charge of my inheritance and he will only dole it out upon my marriage to a man he finds suitable. He only finds aristocrats suitable.”

“What happens if you do not marry an aristocrat?”

“Then I receive no inheritance and I’ll have nothing.

I have no father, Simon.” He wasn’t prepared for the fist-punch effect of the sound of his name on her voice.

It stole his breath. “My mother and sisters and I sold everything we owned to come here for the sole purpose of finding husbands to secure our futures. There is nowhere to go back to. There is no future where I don’t inherit. ”

He didn’t know Mainwaring well, but he knew men like him. The thought of her married to one of them was anathema to him. Men like that wouldn’t know how to deal with her. They’d crush her to control her. “There is. You simply choose not to want that future.”

“Would you choose that future?” she challenged him. “Would you walk away from two hundred thousand dollars with an annuity to a future of nothing but insecurity? I’m sure you’re aware that options are limited for women.”

Simon could hardly conceive of that sort of money.

He imagined his sister, Mary, her curls and laughter and all the small things about her that he didn’t think about unless he had to because it was too painful.

If she’d had that choice, she might be alive now.

She certainly wouldn’t have wasted away in that dirty little attic room in a brothel, her body ravaged by a fever that had set in and refused to leave.

Her baby left to die on a diet of watery pap until he’d paid a bloody fortune for a wet nurse to care for her.

How could he fault Eliza for choosing the way she had?

“I still don’t understand this scheme of yours. What if Mainwaring finds out about this night out in Whitechapel? He won’t marry you then, and you won’t inherit your fortune.”

“Don’t you understand? I need this. If I can have just one adventure where I don’t have to think about Mainwaring or a future with him, then maybe I can face that future.

He has an entire summer to indulge in adventure.

I simply want one night. I know it’s foolish to ask for more, but surely one night is possible.

He won’t find out because we’ll go where no one knows me. I won’t even talk to anyone.”

He bit out a curse and she startled. “One night.” He held up a finger between them. “That’s all you get. One night and then I never want to see you skulking around here again.”

She was already nodding vigorously. “Yes, I understand. You’ll never have to see me again.”

“I don’t want to hear one word about the secret we share.

” She nodded again. “If—” Her smile had widened to the point of near delirium.

“No, listen to me.” He made his voice as low and serious as he could, but that didn’t dim her enthusiasm much.

“If after that night anyone comes to me and even so much as mutters the word Duke , I will find you and I will make you pay for your betrayal.”

She had the audacity to laugh, not at all put off by the seriousness of his manner or the threat he was attempting to convey, and then launched herself into his arms. He had to catch her or they would both go wobbling.

“Thank you so very much, Simon. I promise I will never tell anyone who you are. Never.” She pulled back enough to look up at him, trust and gratitude shining out of her eyes.

He was damned near bathed in its warmth. “Thank you.”

He swallowed thickly. The weight of her body felt so pleasant against him that he didn’t want to let her go. He could think of several ways that he wanted her to thank him. All of them sexual, none of them advisable.

“What night shall we do it?” she asked.

He was forced to clear the husk from his voice. “Tomorrow. Can you get away?”

“I think so. Should I come here at nine o’clock?”

“No, never come here again.” He let her go and forced space between them.

She frowned but didn’t object. He couldn’t decide if she knew what she did to him or not.

It was almost as if she was toying with him.

He named a street corner near her house.

“I’ll pick you up there in a cab and we’ll travel to Whitechapel together. Eleven o’clock.”

“Yes, that makes the most sense. I’ll wear something sensible and plain.”

“Wear your cloak.” He nodded to the black one she wore, the same one she’d worn when they had talked in her bedroom. “You always wear it to cause mischief. Your mother should burn it after.”

She laughed. “She’ll be free of me soon enough.”

He despised thinking of her married to the viscount. She had too much life in her. But it wasn’t his business. He had enough troubles without inviting more.

“Put your money away. I don’t want it.” When she began to sputter a protest, he added, “Now I have to shower. Get out of here unless you plan to stay and watch.” His fingers went back to the ties of his breeches, and her eyes widened as she followed the movement.

“Of course,” she said, and hurried around him toward the door. “Until tomorrow night.”

He nodded and waited a beat, long enough for her to have left, and turned on the tap.

A sluggish stream fell from the spout overhead.

He pushed his breeches down, drawers and all, to step into the round porcelain basin.

It wasn’t until he did that he realized he hadn’t heard the door close.

He glanced behind him to see her staring at his backside.

A blush stained her cheeks when he caught her watching him, and she grinned sheepishly as she ducked out the door.