Lady of Sin (25 page)

The pleasure was sweet, but soon it would not do. It was not enough. She reached down and closed her hand on his phallus, near its base. She guided him to her, so he would fill her.

He looked down at her. Everything was in his gaze. She had never seen so much before. The essential things about this man, about the two of them, were visible.

He returned to her embrace. She held him during the long, beautiful union. His strength dominated her small size completely and his thrusts claimed new rights unmistakably, but she felt no threat and no loss. She absorbed him just as he entered her, and their comprehension of each other became complete.

They did not speak afterward. She felt no need to tell him how she had been moved. He knew, she was sure, just as she knew what was in his heart. His embrace was as encompassing as his spirit, holding her close as he fell asleep.

She looked into the night while snuggled in the security he gave. She understood much now, far more than he guessed. She suspected she knew why he had proposed today, why he wanted his intentions made clear. She understood why he did not want her meeting with Yardley in the morning, and why he had so quickly compromised when the inquiries touched on her life.

Love could be senseless in its desire to protect. Senseless and selfless. He did not count the cost to himself, and she would not count the cost to herself either.

She turned in his arms so she inhaled his breath and felt his skin on her cheek. Another choice was coming, about that proposal. Her love would make the decision easy, inevitable, even if it led to a new grieving that would never end.

CHAPTER
TWENTY

I
f you are determined, then let us do it now.” Nathaniel rose and offered his hand. He had spent the last hour gently trying to dissuade Charlotte from calling on Yardley, to no avail.

It was not that he feared her learning the truth. He merely did not want her
hearing
the truth. Yardley could end up being like those witnesses in trials who dithered and meandered in giving the facts, and ended up revealing irrelevant, unwelcome, and damaging details amidst their verbal excess.

He would like to believe his love would make all discoveries insignificant, but he had no secure confidence about that.

She took his hand. Her eyes and smile said that she knew he wanted to protect her and she appreciated it. However, she would never let him shield her the way he wanted. His soft little Charlotte could still be the vexing Lady M.

The carriage waited outside the inn. Once it began moving, he explained the plan he had concocted in order to control events somewhat. “I will ask him the questions. If you do, he may try to dissemble.”

“Are you saying I should be seen but not heard?” Her tone, while pleasant enough, carried a sardonic note that he chose to ignore.

“Exactly. Be there if you must. Listen to your heart’s content, but I will direct the conversation.”

Her mouth pursed with amusement. “You do not lose any time laying down those laws you spoke of yesterday. I am too besotted from last night to mention that it is premature to attempt such mastery of me. I will agree to your direction, but only because you are an expert at asking questions, and will no doubt do it better than I would.”

He doubted any attempts at mastery would be well timed or very successful. He looked forward to having the right to try, however. It promised to be as much fun as their prior skirmishes had been, but with much more pleasurable truces.

They entered a large village five miles west of Hertford. As they drove down the main lane, Charlotte peered out the window at the thatched roofs and cross-timbers that they passed.

“What a charming and picturesque place. Is this our destination?”

“Yardley is the vicar of the church here.”

“He has done well for himself. How did a tutor come to such a living?”

She
would
have to ask. “The living is controlled by Mardenford. I assume once the young men were grown, it was arranged to give their tutor this income.”

“I do not recall seeing anything in Philip’s letters about this. Indeed, the few I did see from Mr. Yardley were not posted from this village. On the rare occasions that Philip mentioned him, it was not even by name. He was ‘my tutor’—a servant from the past and not a fond old friend.”

So much for controlling events today. He hoped he would have more compliance from Yardley. “He received the living later, from James.”

She did not say that was odd, but a woman too clever by half would see that it was. There was the small chance she had been so well pleasured and loved last night that she was not thinking straight. That would be convenient.

“When did James give him the living? How long ago?”

Damn. “Four or five years, I believe. Soon after James inherited the title. No doubt he thought his brother should have provided for Yardley better, and rectified matters.”

“Perhaps.”

The carriage stopped. He handed her down and they approached the vicarage door.

The housekeeper took his card away, then returned to escort them to a little drawing room. It was too early to be making calls, but it appeared Yardley would receive them. Nathaniel assumed that meant Yardley knew who Nathaniel Knightridge was and what he might want. Which in turn suggested that Mardenford had been in communication with the tutor. If so, that would make this harder.

Charlotte waited calmly, perched on her wooden chair, exuding the formidable presence that far exceeded her size. She was not at all too besotted to think straight. He doubted she would miss the implications of every word spoken today.

Love and pride momentarily distracted
him
. He would forever thank heaven she had been so rash and so bold as to attend that sinful party.

Yardley entered the drawing room abruptly, as if he had paused in the wings to compose himself first. His long gray hair, receding at the brow, and his spectacles initially made him appear older than he was. A smooth oval face and spry step suggested he had barely passed his fortieth year.

He beamed exaggerated welcome and pleasant curiosity. Nathaniel recognized him at once as a fellow actor. This would be interesting.

“How can I be of service to you, Mr. Knightbridge?”

“Knightridge.” The mistake with his name had been a nice, befuddled touch. “This is Charlotte, Lady Mardenford. You once served as tutor to her late husband, the sixth Baron Mardenford.”

Yardley advanced on her with sympathy and deference. “I am undone to meet you. Your husband was a dear pupil of mine and, dare I presume to say, a dear friend.”

“I am sure he would not have considered it a presumption. He spoke very highly of you.”

Her warm acceptance of his greeting encouraged him. He sat nearby, as if he had found an ally.

Nathaniel did not sit at all. Donning his courtroom demeanor, he moved close enough so he would tower above Yardley. “We apologize for the intrusion, but Lady Mardenford has learned of events in the past that trouble her, and she desires some information.”

Yardley cocked his head at her. “Events? Information? I am sorry, but I cannot imagine—”

“I think you can,” she said.

An awkward moment pulsed. Nathaniel let Yardley contemplate just how awkward.

“There is no delicate way to broach this. The lady has cause to think that as a young man, while on his grand tour, her husband formed an alliance with a Spanish woman. She would like to learn what you know of this.”

Yardley displayed true dismay this time. He may have been warned that a man named Knightridge had inquired about an old tutor, but he evidently had not been informed about the reason. That meant that Mardenford was not sure of the inquiry’s purpose either.

He is afraid of something
. Charlotte’s observation repeated in Nathaniel’s head. If not revelations about events in Spain, then what? The pit of his stomach soured as he tried to ignore the question.

Yardley bent toward Charlotte with great concern and appeasement. “Madam, you say you have some cause to think. Surely you have misunderstood or—”

“
Good
cause, Mr. Yardley,” she said firmly. “Not some cause. Good cause. You knew of this alliance. I have seen a letter from you that indicates you did.”

His attempts to retreat into startled ignorance broke down. Mouth tight and brow furrowed, he suddenly looked much older. Old and worried.

“May I inquire what you think you know?” he tried.

Nathaniel commanded his attention. “We would prefer if you simply told us what
you
know.”

Yardley stared sightlessly at the carpet, then glanced at Charlotte. His face flushed. He looked at Nathaniel helplessly. “Sir, the lady . . .”

“Mr. Yardley, I regret if my presence unsettles you, but I must hear all,” Charlotte said. “Whatever you reveal can be no worse than my imagination’s fears.”

“I know very little, actually.”

Nathaniel’s patience began to ebb. “Mr. Yardley, we can hold these discussions among ourselves, informally, or official inquiries can be initiated. These concerns touch on a title, and if necessary the whole matter can be given over to the House of Lords.”

The vicar’s face drained of color. He peered over to see if Nathaniel was serious. Nathaniel glared back more resolve than he felt.

The man shrank, folding into his chair as if half the air had left his body. “It was not a typical grand tour. My fault there. I take full responsibility.” The last was said to Charlotte. “Once we left England, I proposed that we alter the itinerary, and visit some adventurous spots along with the cultural centers. They were both so staid, you see. So . . . boring.” He reddened and his eyes begged Charlotte’s forgiveness. “Philip agreed, and James did not mind, so we circled the Mediterranean. It was wonderful, the colors and contrasts . . .”

He drifted off into a private reverie. Nathaniel called him back. “You ended in Spain?”

“Yes. Full circle then. Their civil war was localized. It came and went, so to speak, and we thought to make a quick visit, a few weeks, then sail home. Unfortunately, it flared up while we were there. Not only did it become difficult to find passage out, but there were other . . . developments.” He grimaced at Charlotte again.

“Do not compromise the truth for my sake,” she said.

“Who was she?” Nathaniel asked.

“Her name was Isabella Zafra, the daughter of a middling landowner. Unfortunately, her brother had revolutionary ideas that put her at risk. Philip formed an . . . infatuation for her. He did not want to leave her to an uncertain fate. He devised a plan to get her out.”

“Marriage?”

“Not a real one,” Yardley hastened to say. “She was Catholic, and only such unions are legal there. He was not. By being less than forthcoming regarding his station and religion, there could be a ceremony that would permit her to leave as his wife, when in fact she really was not.” He smiled hopefully. “The small deception seemed minor in light of the goal. We truly feared for her life.”

“Except such a marriage would be legal,” Nathaniel said. “If legal in the locale in which it occurred, even here—”

“It would not have been legal there. One cannot marry under false pretenses in any Church. He said he was a Catholic, Mr. Knightridge. He did not reveal he was heir to the title. I am not even sure he used his correct family name. A sympathetic country priest did the deed. I do not even know if proper records were made.”

Nathaniel kept most of his attention on Charlotte, looking for evidence she was convinced. Yardley could spin any tale so long as it did not distress her more.

“The passage was obtained. We were set to go. The night before our sailing she disappeared, leaving a note saying she was going inland to bring back her mother to accompany us and would return by noon. Philip had taken ill—the first time his later sickness manifested itself—so James went after her. We waited, poised to flee. James returned many hours later, right before the ship was to sail. Alone. There had been fighting at their property. The government was searching for the brother. She had been killed in the gunfire.”

“James saw this?” Nathaniel asked.

He shook his head. “He heard the guns. A servant running away told him. We thought her dead. Later, Philip sought confirmation. Like you, he wanted assurance that marriage might not have some legal validity. I assured him not, but . . .”

“But you are not a canon lawyer, nor qualified to say,” Charlotte noted. “Did this woman think the marriage was valid, Mr. Yardley? Did she understand the plan?”

“We explained it clearly,” he said.

“You were asked to make further inquiries some years later.” Nathaniel repositioned himself as he spoke. He moved so that he faced Yardley squarely and could see his face, and his eyes, very clearly.

“Philip asked it of me when he contemplated marriage. For obvious reasons, he desired discretion. I corresponded with some friends visiting Spain, and asked them to look into her whereabouts. I learned she was indeed dead. That ended it.” His gaze shifted here and there, but finally met Nathaniel’s. His suddenly confident expression almost masked his thoughts. Almost. This actor wasn’t quite good enough, however.

“She was not dead. She came to England five years ago. Did you know this?”

The vicar’s face went blank. It was supposed to look like shock and disbelief. “Good heavens! That is impossible.”

“She came. She is dead now, but she was not when you made your inquiries.”

“I am truly undone. You astonish me. I am sure you must be wrong.”

Nathaniel studied Charlotte. She appeared to accept the story as told. She believed there had been a sham marriage to save the life of the young woman. She did not see the dissembling. Perhaps she did not want to.

“You are satisfied, madam?”

She rose to her feet. “I am, Mr. Knightridge. Thank you for your time, Mr. Yardley. I am glad to have met my husband’s old friend, who showed him some adventure and helped him attempt to save a damsel in distress.”

Yardley flustered under her attention and praise. Relaxed now, confidently so, he accompanied them outside and saw them off in their carriage.

Fifty yards down the lane, Charlotte called for the carriage to stop. She emerged from deep thought. “He was lying, wasn’t he?”

Nathaniel exhaled a small sigh. Sometimes he wished she were just a little bit dimmer. “He was not lying.”

“Then he was being careful in the truths he revealed.”

“Charl—”

“There was a child. There was a woman who called herself Mrs. Marden, and who thought her child had claims. Mr. Yardley would not want to speak of such in front of me. He would not want to be indelicate when it no longer mattered. She thought she was married, however, even if she was not. I am quite sure of that.”