Page 31

TWENTY-FOUR

S later sprawled in the wingback chair, contemplating the pleasant torpor and the deep sense of satisfaction that warmed him.

He had been cold for a long time, he realized.

But he had grown so accustomed to the sensation that he had come to think of it as a normal condition.

He had been wrong. Ursula had brought him enlightenment on that particular matter and she had done so in a spectacular fashion.

He watched her do up the front of the dressing gown. He would be content to watch her dress anytime, he concluded. It would be even more gratifying to watch her take off her clothes.

“There is no question in my mind but that Anne was involved in some dangerous affair linked to Rosemont and his laboratory,” Ursula said. She started to pace the room. “But I cannot imagine how that could have come about.”

“Before we discuss Rosemont and his very interesting laboratory, I would like to ask you a question,” Slater said.

Ursula stopped and looked at him, a stern frown knitting her brows. “What is that?”

He gestured at the crumpled towel on the floor. Ursula had used it to wipe all traces of him off her thighs.

“Are we going to talk about what just happened here in this room?” he asked.

A visible jolt went through her. But she quickly composed herself.

“What is there to discuss?” she asked warily.

His spirits, which had been in fine form a moment ago, were suddenly plunged into the depths.

He exhaled deeply. What had he expected from her?

A declaration of undying passion? She’d been through hell that afternoon.

Her nerves were no doubt in a fragile state and he had taken advantage of her while she was vulnerable.

He should have consoled her, not engaged in an intense bout of heated intercourse.

He rose slowly. She flushed and quickly turned away when he set about the business of refastening the front of his trousers and his shirt. So much for the air of intimacy he thought existed between them. He braced himself for the apology he knew he owed her.

“I’m sorry, Ursula,” he said.

She turned back to face him, startled. “What?”

“I know an apology is hardly sufficient under the circumstances but there is nothing else I can offer.”

She narrowed her eyes. “What, exactly, are you apologizing for, sir?”

He glanced at the towel and then met her eyes. “For what happened between us. It was my fault.”

“Was it, indeed?”

He wasn’t sure what to make of her tone. She sounded angry. He probably deserved that.

“You were very nearly murdered this afternoon,” he said. He flexed the fingers of one hand, thinking about Rosemont. “Your nerves are still in a delicate state. I should have realized you were not yourself. I took advantage of your fragile condition—”

“Bloody hell, sir, how dare you apologize to me?”

She was furious. He looked at her, uncertain how to deal with the situation.

“Ursula, I’m trying to explain—”

“Yes, I know.” She watched him with fierce eyes. “You wish to explain that you think I’m such a silly goose that I did not understand what I was doing when we... when we...” She broke off, waving a hand at the chair and the towel.

“Your nerves—”

“There is nothing wrong with my nerves. It’s my temper that should concern you. Are you implying that I don’t know my own mind?”

“No, absolutely not,” he said. He was starting to feel cornered. That, too, was an unfamiliar experience.

“Then what are you trying to say? That you regret our recent encounter?”

“No, damn it.” His own temper started to surface. “I found the experience quite satisfying.”

She folded her arms very tightly beneath her breasts. “Then there is nothing more to be said.”

Something was inciting her outrage but damned if he could reason out what the problem was.

“Do you regret it?” He watched her, trying to read her eyes. “Because if so, I’d rather you told me now so that I can ensure it doesn’t happen again.”

“For the last time, I knew what I was doing and I do not regret it. Is that enough for you to be certain that my nerves have not been completely shattered?”

“Thank you,” he said.

She drummed her fingers on her forearms. “Well? You appear to be waiting for me to say something else.”

He cleared his throat. “This might be an appropriate time to tell me that you found our encounter at least mildly pleasurable if not entirely satisfactory.”

Her eyes widened in shock. “Oh. Yes. Well, as to that, I am not sure.”

He winced. “On second thought, it might be best if we moved on to another topic. At this rate you will completely unman me.”

“The thing is, something did happen—something that was... unfamiliar to me.”

“Generally speaking it’s not the sort of thing that is easily confused with other activities.”

She started pacing again. “I believe I experienced what the doctors refer to as a paroxysm. A cathartic paroxysm.”

“I’m not sure I could even spell paroxysm. What the devil is that?”

She paused to glare at him. “You know what I mean. A physical... release.”

“Are you trying to tell me that you experienced a climax?”

She raised her chin. “The medical profession calls it a paroxysm when it happens in women. I suppose they don’t think it’s possible that women are capable of actually experiencing pleasure in the way that men do so they give it a label that makes it sound more like a case of shattered nerves.”

A relief so great that it equaled the pleasure he had experienced a short time ago nearly overwhelmed him. He started to smile, caught himself and quickly suppressed it.

“Ah,” he said. “I see.”

She shot him a suspicious look. “What do you see?”

He could no longer suppress the smile. Crossing the short distance that separated them he cupped her face in his hands.

“I realize that you have been a widow for many years now. Perhaps it has been some time since you enjoyed that sort of thing.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I never enjoyed one of those . I expect that is why I did not recognize the sensation at first.”

“Your marriage was not a happy one? Not even in the beginning?”

“I told myself I was content—at least, I did until I discovered Jeremy’s gambling habit and his taste for brothels.

I understood belatedly that he had married me to get his hands on the small inheritance my father left me.

I did not realize that there was something missing in our physical relationship.

I suspect it is that way for many other women, as well.

It certainly explains why so many of them are making appointments with their doctors for the treatment of congestion and hysteria. ”

“Are you telling me there is a treatment for, uh—”

“I believe a medical instrument called a vibrator is involved.”

“You’re serious, aren’t you?”

She was bright pink now. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I am. My assistant, Matty, booked an appointment for a treatment with a doctor last month. She was practically glowing when she returned to the office. She says she plans to schedule another appointment soon. She recommended the therapy. Highly.”

Slater was stunned. And then he started to smile again. The smile turned into a grin and then a chuckle. Without warning he was suddenly roaring with laughter. Ursula watched him, bemused.

Eventually he regained his composure. When he did he realized he felt uncharacteristically lighthearted.

He brushed his mouth lightly across her lips. “Promise me that you will consult with me before you make any appointments with a doctor.”

She blushed a deeper shade of red and then she smiled. It was a brilliant, dazzling smile. Sensual laughter lit her eyes.

“I will do that,” she said.

He realized he was getting hard again. He wanted to pick her up in his arms and carry her back to the chair to demonstrate to her that what she had experienced was not a one-time event.

He groaned and pulled her to him. “I would like very much to make love to you again but I regret to say we have more pressing issues.”

“Rosemont and his laboratory.” Ursula raised her head. “And Anne’s connection to the drug trade, which appears to have been going on for several months. I just do not understand it.”

“Neither do I, not yet. But her involvement may have led to her death.”

“That reminds me.” Ursula stepped out of his arms and went to the satchel sitting on top of her desk.

“I have something to show you. I collected a sample of the dried herbs that I found in Rosemont’s laboratory.

I think he used them to concoct the drug.

I saw no other plant specimens on the premises.

And he said something about ruing the day he agreed to make the ambrosia. ”

“He admitted that he was concocting the drug?”

“Yes.”

Slater watched her open the satchel and remove a small bundle created from a knotted handkerchief. When she untied the square of linen he saw a handful of dried leaves and flowers.

“I don’t recognize that plant,” he said. “It’s nothing like the opium poppy.”

“I have never encountered it, either.”

“One way or another, we must consider the stuff to be dangerous. Rosemont was willing to commit murder and destroy his own laboratory to protect his secrets. If you don’t mind, I’ll take the sample to a botanist I know. He was a friend of my father’s. Perhaps he will recognize the leaves.”

“I suppose I could ask Lady Fulbrook about the herb.”

“No,” Slater said. “We don’t know what is going on in the Fulbrook household. You must not tell Lady Fulbrook or anyone else what happened to you today. Above all, you must not let on that you discovered these leaves.”

“Very well.”

“We need more information,” Slater said.

“About the plant, do you mean?”

“That, too. But I want details of the goings-on at the Olympus Club.”

“I thought that was why we were trying to arrange an interview with the brothel madam, Mrs. Wyatt.”

“I don’t think that we can count on obtaining a great deal of information from her—not if she is involved in this drug business. She will have her own interests to protect.”

“Will you talk to one of the members of the club?” Ursula asked.

“That would be the best approach. Unfortunately, there is a problem. I am not a member of the club, and due to the fact that I have been out of the country for the greater part of the past decade, I lack the social connections I need to convince a member to confide in me. But there are other ways to gather information.”

Ursula was silent for a little too long.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

“I’m thinking that your partner, Lord Torrence, might be able to assist you,” Ursula said.

“You refer to my former partner who evidently detests the sight of me.”

“I told you, I don’t think Torrence hates you. I believe he is afraid of you.”

“I think you’re wrong but even if you’re correct, it comes to the same thing. He won’t help me.”

“It will be your task to convince him to change his mind. Meanwhile, it occurs to me that whoever was supplying the herbs to Rosemont must be a very expert gardener. It might be interesting to take a closer look at the contents of Lady Fulbrook’s conservatory tomorrow.”

Ghostly fingers touched Slater’s neck. “I don’t think you should return to that house.”

“There’s nothing to worry about.” Ursula smiled reassuringly. “After all, Griffith will be out front in the street the whole time I am inside.”