Desire Me More (12 page)

Shauley came within a foot of her as they walked to the edge of the pavement. She bumped into Nick as she tried to put distance between her and Shauley. When she caught Nick's eye, there must have been an expression on her face that indicated her feelings, for Nick said, “Wait here while I talk to Shauley a moment.”

She bristled. “I should hear anything you have to say to him.” Even though she wanted to be as far from Shauley as possible.

“I promise to tell you every word exchanged between us. For now, stay here by the carriage.”

Amelia gave one succinct nod, not happy with being made to stand aside, no matter the situation, no matter the discussion Nick wanted to have with that man.

I
t took one look on Amelia's face to tell Nick everything he needed to know about what transpired while she'd been stranded with Lord Murray and Shauley.

Fear.

Nick cursed the hired carriage again that had caused his tardiness, when he'd had every intention of arriving prior to Amelia.

“Shauley,” he called. As his nemesis turned toward him, Nick took a moment to address Murray. “Your lordship, do you mind if I have a word with Shauley?”

Lord Murray waved him off, indifferent, shouting his directions to the driver as he shut the carriage door.

“I don't have time for you right now,” Shauley said. “You've just delayed my next appointment, Riley.”

“Our conversation will be quick.” Nick hovered so close to Shauley that the man took a step back. “Now that this deal is done with Lord Murray, I don't expect to see you again. And that means you will stay away from anyone who works in my household as well.”

“Even your precious Miss Grant . . . or shall I address her as Lady Amelia Somerset?”

If Nick had hackles, they would have risen just then. And while he raged on the inside, he knew he needed to keep his expression free of reaction so as not to give away his feelings. “Miss Grant, as with anyone living in my house, will be offered the same protection from any potential threats.”

“You always did have a sweet spot for the fairer sex.”

“And you've always scared them away. I mean it, Shauley; any threat you pose against my household will be acted upon swiftly and without mercy.”

Shauley chuckled low. “Should I be worried for my life? I find it odd that people end up floating in the Thames after a confrontation with you.”

Nick considered this silently. Inspector Laurie must have used Shauley as a source for information. How else would he know of Lord Berwick and of Miss Grant's true identity? So how did Shauley tie into Lord Berwick's death? Because there was no question in Nick's mind that the two men were somehow tied together.

“Perhaps you should be worried that the last person who got on my bad side ended up dead.”

Shauley's eyes lit up. “I have measures in place to deal with the likes of you, Riley. Men of your ilk have fallen down the social rabbit hole with little provocation.”

These were all empty threats, meant to incite Nick to act rashly—and he knew it. “You have nothing on me, Shauley.”

Nick walked back to Amelia's side and held out his arm for her. He didn't bother turning back to see Shauley's expression at being dismissed so abruptly. After his plans this afternoon concluded, he needed to have a conversation with Huxley. For now, he would reveal a little something about Shauley to Amelia, as she had to understand the danger that man represented.

“T
ell me what you needed to discuss with Shauley,” Amelia said to Nick as soon as they were seated in the carriage.

Nick looked at her a long moment before sighing and placing his top hat on the bench beside him.

“His given name is Michael. We grew up together in St. Giles.”

“I know you were once neighbors. I visited your sister a few days ago, and we discussed Shauley to some extent.”

A smile tilted up Nick's lips. “I shouldn't have expected anything less. We were once the best of friends. But some men grow stronger from mistreatment, while others change into something twisted and different . . . I could almost go so far as to call it sinister.”

Amelia reached for his hand and clasped it. “We both know the monster my brother was, Nick. I know not all men are cut from the same cloth, no matter their upbringing.”

“Michael is a year my junior. His mother was also a prostitute, though she didn't have a place like my mum set up. Michael and I were good friends at one point. We did everything together. My mother saw the attachment we'd formed, so she paid for him to attend school with me.”

“What caused you to stop being friends?”

“The school.”

“I don't understand.”

“There were a handful of teachers there who liked young men.” Nick pulled her glove off and massaged the wrist he held captured between his hands. “More specifically, they liked boys.”

She still didn't comprehend.

“I wish I could pretend it was nothing but my adolescent imagination, that it was all a dream. I wish I didn't have to reveal any of this to you, but it's important you understand what Shauley is capable of, and why he's capable of it. But I can't lie about this. Not after everything you've been through with your brother. Not when I am starting to think Shauley had a hand in your brother's death . . . ”

“What did he say to you, Nick?”

“Not enough to have a confession but enough to concern me of his involvement.”

She'd thought as much—or had been close to that very conclusion. But for the life of her, she couldn't understand why Shauley would cause her brother any harm when she was sure neither knew the other.

“Tell me about the school, Nick.”

“As there's no real way to word this delicately, I'm just going to have to spit it out. The teachers liked to rape young boys. The prettier the better. Willing, not willing. They didn't care. They ran a school to fulfill their own base desires.” Nick's gaze didn't leave hers as he revealed this.

Amelia's hand flew up to her mouth. There was no covering the shocked sound that escaped her. Tears flooded her eyes. She didn't know what to say and stuttered out a few sounds before saying, “Did they . . .?”

Oh, God, she couldn't even put words to her questions. They'd hurt Nick; she knew it.

“I was kicked out after four months for stabbing the vicar who . . . ” Even Nick couldn't utter that truth.

She didn't want him to and cleared her throat before redirecting their focus, “And Michael?”

“I visited his mother as she lay on her deathbed. She told me that it was a good thing Michael was able to learn the ins and outs of the business before she was gone.”

“She
knew
?” Amelia couldn't temper the shock that flooded that question.

“I always assumed that Michael had told her. He stayed at the school after I left. Received a
scholarship.
We never talked again.”

Amelia was sure she'd vomit. She asked Nick to have the carriage pulled over so she could step outside for fresh air. While the day had been cold and she'd found herself chilled to the bone, now she felt only heat and anger boiling in her blood and throughout her body. She took in great gulps of air. Nick stood close by as she paced the laneway they'd pulled into.

Sweat dotted her eyebrow and she swiped it away, agitated by this revelation and situation. As she saw it, there were two problems: the first was what Nick had revealed about his past. And that made her stomach twist again, so she paced faster, trying to ignore her discomfort.

The second: “You think Shauley was responsible for Jeremy's death. Why would he resort to murdering my brother when there are other people more important to you?” Nick's sister, for instance. Or Huxley, or even his old lover, Victoria. “He can't possibly know what we mean to each other.”

“Are you so certain, considering the argument I had with your brother? Anyone who heard the threats I uttered toward your brother would know how much you mean to me.”

Amelia stopped in front of Nick and studied him. Nick clasped his hands on either of her arms, keeping her from pacing. She'd had a bad feeling about her old employer, who nearly had raped her before she escaped. She'd felt uncomfortable around Shauley too. How poorly she judged men's characters—no, she gave them too much benefit over her doubt. Never again would she give any leeway to what she initially felt.

“Your brother nearly taking you was the end to my good grace, Amelia. I sent someone to watch Jeremy's comings and goings so he wouldn't get a second chance.”

“I remember you telling me that.” Amelia stepped closer to Nick. Suddenly, she needed to feel his warmth and the comfort of his embrace, and she didn't care that anyone could happen by. He opened his arms to her, inviting her closer.

“The kid I had following your brother came to me today and described a man resembling Shauley as one of your brother's constant companions. He hadn't thought much of it until the kid came by the house and saw Shauley leaving with Lord Murray.”

“Why didn't he say something sooner?”

“Didn't think of it when he got caught up in his other tasks. It's not his fault, Amelia. He is but twelve.”

Amelia would not fault a child. She pressed her forehead against Nick's chest and inhaled his amber-scented cologne. She could barely comprehend how any of this had happened or why it was happening.

“My brother is a continual nightmare, haunting me from his grave.”

“I will ensure Shauley is crushed.”

Tilting her head back to look at him, she saw that Nick's expression was resolute and as hard as stone. “I don't doubt you,” she said. “But you have to be careful. If he killed my brother, he could harm you too. That's not a risk I'm willing to take, much as you aren't willing to risk my safety.”

Nick brushed his thumb across her cheek until his hand stretched behind her nape. “I will always come back to you.”

She hoped so, because she couldn't bear the thought of losing Nick.

They embraced a while longer before returning to the carriage. Amelia's thoughts rolled over in her mind. She felt great unease. And distress. How could she not remain in a constant state of uncertainty?

The hired carriage turned toward the shopping strip instead of the townhouse. “Where are we headed?” Amelia asked.

“I made arrangements earlier to spend the afternoon out of the house. I would cancel, except Landon and his wife are meeting us there.”

“A day trip sounds like a wonderful plan. It might take our minds off everything else for a short while.”

Nick didn't say much else on their ride; he just sat across from her in silent contemplation. Was he concerned he'd revealed too much about his past? She put her own worries from her mind, as she intended to enjoy her afternoon in Nick's company.

Amelia watched the scenery passing through the window as they wound their way through London's hectic midday streets. Finally, the carriage stopped in front of a row of unassuming two-story red brick buildings. There were only a few passers-by in the street; otherwise, it was an unusually quiet spot of London. Inside one of the storefronts, there were people sitting at tables that faced the overlarge windows.

Nick stepped out of the carriage and helped her down.

“It looks absolutely full for being the only shop with visible patrons,” she commented.

“It's known for its Turkish coffee. Patrons are willing to go out of their way to come here for that delicacy.”

Amelia screwed up her nose. She'd had one taste of coffee and didn't wish to repeat the experience. Nick chuckled at her expression.

“There are other delights aside from the coffee.”

She exhaled in a rush. “Well, that's a relief.”

“I will get you to like it yet.”

“Unlikely. But if you insist on being disappointed by my dislike, by all means”—she motioned her hand in the direction of the entrance—“I will follow your lead.”

The atmosphere when they entered was loud and far busier than she could have guessed possible when looking in from the outside. It was also unbearably hot.

Nick led them to a table near the window, tucked in a back corner of the shop. There was a sign that read
reserved
, holding the table empty.

Amelia looked at Nick. “You knew we were coming here all along and didn't think to tell me before you left this morning?”

His only response was a charming grin.

Looking around, she saw men wearing suits, some fine and elegant, some of the lower working class, as well as workmen with shirtsleeves carelessly rolled up their forearms as they sat at tables with their assorted hot beverages and sweets as they boisterously went about their conversation. No one, though, was as finely frocked as Nick. Some of the women wore hats with so many feathers, satin, and lace that they might be about to stroll through Hyde Park to attract a rich suitor. Other women wore the most beautiful walking dresses, the type Amelia expected to see only in the finest of shops around London and far nicer than the drab brown day dress she'd picked to attend the meeting at the solicitor's office.

She felt overwhelmed and less worthy of the man on her arm as she looked from one woman to the next, noticing their focus locked on Nick. The sudden insecurity caught her off guard. She didn't normally think like this, but she felt out of her element.

Nick checked the time on his watch. “We have more time than I thought we would have to ourselves.”

“You make that sound as if it's a bad thing.”

Nick's hand brushed over her arm as he removed her shawl and folded it over the back of a chair. When he pulled out a seat for her, he stood close enough that she felt the heat of his breath on her cheek, stirring wisps of her hair that curled over her temple. She wanted him to put his arms around her. She craved his touch outside their stolen evenings.

“You're very distracting,” he said.

With that comment, he vanquished every one of her insecurities. Nick was so focused on her that he probably hadn't even noticed the other women in the coffee shop. She took her seat without responding, her hands twisting in her lap, her nerves suddenly on edge for an entirely different reason.

She was saved from having to say anything when a robust man approached their table carrying a silver tray with coffee cups and plates. She took the man to be a Turk, since he wore a fez atop his head—something, she was reminded, her brother used to wear in his smoking room. The man's beard rivaled Nick's in length and thickness. The hair on his upper lip was curled and moved as he spoke.

“Mr. Riley. I'll have a coffee service sent over,” he said with an accented voice that held a smooth lilt that was almost musical in quality.

“Thank you for saving the table. I know how busy you are at this time of the day.”

“It's no trouble for you, Mr. Riley. Now, can I get you something to eat while you wait for your companions?”

“Tea for my lady friend, Adnan. Though I promise to make her try the coffee.”

Adnan put his hands together and bowed his head as he left them.

“You must come here often,” she observed.

“I do. The patron base is mostly working class. Not too many highbrows come here, which isn't surprising, since it's surrounded by slums.”

“I thought women weren't allowed in coffeehouses.”

“A fine observation. Adnan is happily ruled by his wife's decisions. She once told me that if they cut off half of London by not allowing women here, they'd never have found success of this magnitude.”

“I already adore her and all, without having met her.”

Adnan came back carrying a two-tiered copper teapot. It was the oddest thing Amelia had ever seen. Setting it down in front of them, he addressed Nick. “My wife prepared some
lukom
for your lady friend.”

A small porcelain dish was placed between them, with small cubes of jelly. She wasn't sure what
lukom
was, but it was dusted with a sugary powder. There were orange and yellow pieces, all similar in size.

“That is very generous, Adnan. She will love them. Thank your wife for her hospitality.”

Amelia watched their exchange with interest. Nick seemed so at ease in this place. Normally, he held himself aloof, but just as he'd been in his sister's schoolyard, here he was more relaxed.

“For you, my friend, my wife set aside some
zerde
before it was gone. She garnishes it as we speak.”

“Your wife is too kind to lavish me with special treatment.”

“We can never be kind enough, Mr. Riley. Now, the tea must sit. I will be back to pour it for your friend.” The proprietor turned to Amelia and gave her a smile and wink. “If you like sweets, I will bring you beet sugar too.”

She only smiled since she wasn't sure what that was. He was gone again, and Nick was looking at her.

“Beet sugar? Dare I ask?”

“Adnan travels home three times a year and ships back large quantities of traditional items. Mostly teas, spices, and coffee beans. The sugar tastes the same, it's just processed differently.”

“What about the squares of jelly?” She pointed at the plate with the dozen small cubes.