Midnight Kisses (Midnight Series) (10 page)

Devlin’s eyes were grim with determination. Under no circumstance would he allow Claire’s unkind performance to stand between him and Danielle. Hell, he desired this woman as he never had anything or anyone before!

“What do you think you’re doing? Why are you running away?” he asked angrily. “I’m sorry that Lady Winther insulted you. All I can tell you is that I ended that affair many years ago. But that’s no reason to doubt what’s going on between us, and just run off!”

Danielle broke away.

“This has nothing to do with us! What do you think of me? What happened yesterday was great, but don’t think me so naïve as to believe it was anything special to you. I’m aware that you have a past. In all these years, I only ever pictured you with women. Lots of women. Beautiful, experienced women like Lady Winther. Of course her words hurt me, even if I don’t quite understand what she is trying to tell me. But it’s not about that. That’s not the reason why I can’t stand being here any longer.”

Danielle shook her head in despair.

Lowering her voice, she continued: “These blood-thirsty, sneering vultures! I can’t bear them looking at me! They’re laughing at me. And it’s not just Lady Winther, who at least has the guts to mention Matthew’s discomforting death. They’re all thinking I was unable to satisfy my own husband. I myself had my doubts, but our lawyer has assured me only today that Matt really was incapable of lying with me—or with any other woman, for that matter.”

Devlin looked over his shoulder. The hallway was empty in all directions, but this was not the right place for this kind of discussion.

“Come with me, Danielle. Let’s get out of here.”

Together they climbed into the carriage and silently sat opposite one another in the twilight. Devlin saw her pain and couldn’t stand to see her unhappy. If only he could find the
Venus
, he’d
 . . .

Should the rumors be right about the painting, then this might possibly help him change the sad legacy of the Windham family. Perhaps he’d even be able to love. Which, for the first time in his life, was something he wanted to do.

“What was Langston doing in the brothel if he couldn’t
 . . . 
? Do you have any idea?” Devlin picked up where they had left off. Something was bothering him about that story.

“Do we have to talk about that? I don’t really want to know why he was cheating on me—given that he wasn’t actually capable!”

Chapter 9

When they entered the chimney room a little while later, and each held a snifter of brandy, Devlin brought the topic up again. He found it hard to concentrate on something other than what happened there last night, but he needed to force himself. No matter what Danielle thought about him, last night had been special—and it worried him greatly.

“So, what was your husband doing in London?” he asked, and inspected the paintings on the wall while pacing up and down, for he didn’t dare to be too close to her.

“It’s not as if I always knew what drove Matt,” Danielle confessed. She found it hard to admit that living with her husband had been a sad affair indeed. In the end, she always did her best to convince herself that she could have done a whole lot worse. “But I assume it had something to do with the
Venus de Lavinium
. A few weeks before his death, he spent a couple of days in London. When he returned, he was terribly upset, for he believed that the painting had made an appearance in a London museum. He said that during his research, he had met another expert in the field, and that they had spent several days studying all the paintings in question. He took a lot of notes, which he wanted to match up with something.”

Danielle shrugged her shoulders.

Devlin knitted his brow in concentration, and paced through the room, taking long strides.

“I think there’s more to it,” he reflected out loud. “If we look at all of this carefully, ma chère, I fear it all comes together into one consistent, yet terrifying, picture.”

He sat down beside Danielle and took her hand.

“Your husband came to London to find the
Venus
, and he studied the paintings that he considered possible hiding places for the original. He must have thought he could solve the riddle by way of his notes. Which would explain his excitement. Hell, his essay on the Lavinium scrolls even gave
me
a glimmer of hope of finding a clue as to the
Venus’s
location. What if he actually found what he was looking for? What if he returned to London to unveil the
Venus
?”

Danielle had turned pale.

“You think he might have found her?”

Devlin nodded. “Perhaps. Or he was just about to. Danielle, I fear your husband has fallen victim to a crime. I don’t think he entered the brothel in order to amuse himself. No, I fear he was murdered because he discovered the
Venus
.”

A deadly silence descended, and Devlin could feel Danielle’s hands tremble under his. He put his arm around her and pulled her to his chest.

“So he wasn’t cheating on me?” she sighed in a barely audible whisper, and Devlin could feel the sense of relief underneath her pain.

He kissed her temple, stroked her hair, and tenderly rubbed her back.

“Let me assure you that no man carrying within himself even an ounce of manhood would be able to resist your beauty. He would never have rejected you just to find release in one of those establishments.”

“But what then was he doing there? Who would even benefit from his death?”

He remembered the meeting he’d had with Mr. Corbett and also the warning the latter had uttered. “We need to get to the bottom of this!”

Devlin pressed her hand and promised: “Tomorrow I will pay a visit to that house of ill repute and see what I can find out.”

“You want to go there? Are you out of your mind?” Danielle cried out and jumped to her feet.

Devlin got up, too, grabbing her hands and pulling her close.

“Danielle, my lovely, no need for you to be jealous. I will stay away from the ladies, I promise. Besides, not a single one of them is a match for you, not even close.”

With that, he allowed his hands to wander down her back and started unbuttoning her dress.

“I’m not jealous, Milord! I’m just worried about you,” she explained, only to gasp in surprise a moment later when he, without any hesitation, slipped the dress off her shoulders.

“Milord, we can’t do that! What if someone sees us? What if
 . . . 
”

Devlin was already in the process of opening his shirt, and his throaty laugh sent shivers of thrill and excitement down her spine.

“The opera will go on another hour or so. After that, the streets will be so packed that it will take at least another hour for our hosts to arrive back at the house. The servants, too, think that we’re out for the night. However, even if someone were to walk in on us, you are not some unmarried virgin whose reputation would be ruined if she were spotted with me. You are a wealthy widow, free to do as she pleases, Danielle.”

He moved in closer, finally allowing himself to run his hands through her hair and wrap one of her shiny locks around his finger. His lustful eyes scorched her skin, and the hoarseness in his voice was a delicious promise. “So, Milady, have I won your favor, or will I need to convince you first?”

Lou was furious. That fat, stinking good-for-nothing was sitting downstairs at the bar—probably hoping that he would be offered another one of the girls for free. Well, he sure was wrong about that!

“Why do you keep dragging fatso here, Frank? You’re both completely useless, but the two of you together are just impossible to bear! I don’t want to see him around here anymore, do you understand?” he bellowed.

Frank nodded, nervously twisting his hat between his fingers. The day didn’t exactly start as he had hoped.

“I know, I know, we don’t have all that much information—yet. I’ve been following her for days
 . . . 
but
 . . . 
”

“No more buts! I told you to spy on the widow. Langston must have left clues somewhere. Do you think he told her? Quite a coincidence that she should be coming to London so suddenly, don’t you think?”

Frank scratched himself and shook his head.

“I could have sworn she was completely oblivious, but I might be wrong. After all, she seems to be in close contact with Lord Weston, the Earl of Windham,” Frank explained.

Lou pricked his ears.

“What did you say? Windham?” His fist came down hard on the table. “I knew it! That guy means trouble, because he’s after the
Venus
just like we are. See to it that you find out more,” Lou ordered and showed Frank the door. Still, on his way out, Frank dared to stick his neck out, for as much as he mistrusted that dubious pimp, he desired the pimp’s girls even more.

“Lou, all of this is quite stressful. A little down payment might be very helpful
 . . . 
Do you think I could
 . . . 
? Maybe the little redhead?”

The pimp gave him an icy stare that seemed to pierce Frank’s core. But just when Frank worked up an apology for his audacious question, Lou shrugged his shoulders and yelled:

“Lulu, get your ass over here and make yourself useful!”

That morning, Devlin was making his way to a part of the city that, at nighttime, would not exactly be considered safe. But at this hour, everything was exquisitely quiet. A broad-shouldered watchdog of a man in front of the house with the red lantern, which, above the door, also sported a sign with a cat arching its back, politely stepped aside as Devlin climbed the stairs. During the day,
Lulu’s
made a sad and cheerless impression, but Devlin knew that it was one of the most popular brothels in all of London. Most of the tables were empty now, the candles in their candelabra extinct, and the stench of cold cigar smoke weighed heavily in the air. A scantily clad blonde was suggestively leaning against the bar, and she puckered her full, red lips when she noticed Devlin entering.

Hips swinging, she sensually advanced towards him, fluttering her black-mascaraed eyelashes, and it was certainly no accident that the thin fabric of her dress slipped off her shoulder and revealed a bare, naked breast.

“Milord, you look tense.” Her hands ran over Devlin’s chest and slipped underneath his waistcoat. Devlin didn’t object.

“Indeed,” he agreed with her, and escorted her back to the bar.

“Perhaps I can be of assistance? I can make you forget all your worries,” the girl suggested and ran her tongue over her lips.

“I heard men die from
 . . . 
happiness thanks to your very excellent service,” Devlin jested, pointing at the whisky.

The girl giggled and poured him a glass, then dipped her finger in it before slipping it into Devlin’s mouth.

“No, Milord. That was an accident. After all, we want you to come here
again and again
. In every sense of the word, Milord.”

With her legs spread apart, she took a seat on his lap. “Would you like a little taste?” she asked, pushing her hand down the front of his pants. Devlin grabbed her and pushed her a little distance away. By now, he had his doubts that she could offer him any sort of helpful information. And yet, he was sure that a scientist completely void of virility who frequented a brothel was no coincidence. But what exactly had led Langston here?

He contemplated how to get rid of the enthusiastic girl in his lap, when another
fille de joie
came down the staircase. She was smoothing down her dress, which had the same bright red hue as her hair. Behind her, a man whose blissful facial expression clearly showed the superb service he had just enjoyed.

Devlin quickly pulled the blonde closer again and lowered his head so as to kiss her neck. The girl giggled, pressing herself up against him.

The other patron put on his hat and took a long look around. He stopped when his eyes fell on the only other man in this fine establishment, a fat chap with severe muttonchops sitting in the farthest corner.

“Come on, we’ve got work to do!” he barked. The fat man pulled a face, but begrudgingly followed him to the door.