My Fallen Angel (7 page)

He answered her with a look meant to tell her he damn well would. He swung out of his jacket, having to clench his jaw to keep from bellowing at her. Little fool. Little idiot. Didn’t she realize what a dress such as that
did
to him?

He took a step, determined to cover her up and put himself out of his misery. But just as he lifted the jacket, something popped. He paused. Lucy stiffened. They both looked down at the same time.

“Good God!” Garrick roared.

“Oh dear,” Lucy moaned.

The dress had ripped, just peeled down the middle like an overripe banana. Lucy tried to clutch it closed. A flash of pink flesh caught his attention.

His eyes widened. Bloody hell. She
was
naked beneath.

Garrick glanced at Mr. Barrows. The sight of the corpulent man gawking at Lucy’s naked flesh was the absolute last straw. He hauled back and punched the oversized rodent right between his ratlike eyes.

The man wilted toward the floor like a piece of dank rigging.

“You’ve killed him,” Lucy screamed.

“Good!” he roared back.

She looked back up at him and swallowed.

Garrick stared back, fuming. He had the damnedest time refraining from touching her, whether in anger or some twisted form of self-torture, he didn’t know. The sight of her standing there, her tousled hair framing her face in a wispy halo, her arms crossed in front of her like some sacrificial virgin, was nearly too much for his already over-taxed libido to handle. He turned away from her, ostensibly to check on the solicitor, but in actuality to stop himself from doing something foolish, such as pulling her into his arms and kissing her senseless. Damn fool.

“Cover yourself,” he snapped, tossing her his jacket. He bent to ensure that the leech was alive. He was, more’s the pity. When he stood back up he refused to turn around until he was positive she’d covered herself.

It was a few minutes later before he heard Lucy mutter, “You can turn around now,” in a small voice.

Tom obviously sensed the tension between them, for he remained unusually quiet, right until the moment the carriage rolled to a stop in front of Cornelia’s town home. And then, with his usual aplomb, he asked, “Ya gonna thrash her?”

“Thomas Tee,” Lucy huffed.

Garrick ignored the child, stuffing the documents he had purloined from the solicitor’s office into his coat pocket. When his eyes strayed to hers, they burned with anger.

Oh dear.

The moment they entered the house, Lucy tried to escape to her room, but a restraining hand on her arm stopped her. She looked up at Garrick and gulped.

“May I take your, er, coat?”

Lucy pulled her gaze away to glance at Lambert. She blanched at the wry look on the butler’s face as he spied the latest addition to her wardrobe.

“Ah, no, Lambert, thank you. It’s a bit chilly in here.” She wiped the perspiration from her upper lip.

Lambert’s brows rose, but he turned to Garrick nonetheless.“Would you like me to ring for some tea, sir?”

Lucy thought she heard him mutter something about a neck before he said, “No,” in a tone of voice that made the butler’s eyes widen.

Lucy was about to admonish him for being rude, butthen he grabbed her by the arm. She forgot everything as he all but dragged her toward a nearby sitting room.

The thud as the door closed was nearly as loud as the thud of Lucy’s heart. She pulled her arm away and turned toward the door, a hasty exit in mind.

“I wouldn’t do that.”

She paused with her hand on the door.

“If you leave, I will tell your aunt the whole sordid story.

Lucy stiffened, then slowly turned to face him.“You wouldn’t.”

“I would.”

She felt herself pale at the expression on his face, pulling her gaze away to stare at the white and blue Chinese rug covering the floor. When he continued to remain silent she had the distinct impression he was merely gathering steam, as a typhoon does before it roars ashore.

“My lord, please,” she began, trying to head him off. She peeked up at him.“I know wearing that dress was incredibly silly, but all I wanted to do was hel—”

“Silly?” he interrupted, his expression turning thunderous.

She licked her suddenly dry lips.“Very well,
foolish.
But ‘tis no reason for you to go off half-cocked. We can discuss this reasonably.”

“Half-cocked?” Garrick said softly, taking a step toward her.“I’m more than half-cocked at the moment, my dear Lucy.” He took another step toward her.

Lucy had the distinct impression he was being vulgar. She retreated a step, not trusting the look in hiseyes, then tried not to panic when her rear came in contact with the back of one of two couches facing each other in the room.“Now, Garrick—”

“I am going to teach you a lesson.”

Her eyes widened.“A lesson? W-what kind of lesson?” she asked, surreptitiously looking for an escape route.

He took another step, this one bringing him within inches of her.“I have decided to teach you what happens to young ladies who disobey me.”

Lucy tried to dart around him, but a hand streaked out. He pulled her to him, his grip nearly bruising, her rear against the couch again.

“You’re demented,” she blurted.“And I didn’t disobey y—” Whatever else she’d been about to say was cut off when Garrick jerked her roughly, almost violently against him.

Their eyes met, hers soft and pleading and sparking with just a touch of anticipation, his dark and promising.

“Garrick, I—”

She never got to finish her sentence. With the speed of lightning, his lips swooped down to cover hers. Lucy gasped, not in fear, but in excitement, for as Garrick’s mouth angled down to cover hers she realized that this, this all-consuming passionate
need
to be kissed by him, this was what she’d wanted since the moment they’d met, was the reason why she’d allowed him such liberties. Yes, he was being a bit of an unscrupulous knave right now, but it was exactly that roguish air that drew her to him.

And if Garrick’s lips were just a little bit hard and punishing as they ravished hers, she didn’t mind. If hisgrip was a little too tight as he pressed her up against the back of the couch, she tolerated it. If what his eyes promised was punishment, she wanted to be punished for the rest of her days.

Her body began to tingle, delicious, shivery little tingles which rose the hairs on her arm. She sighed, then stood on tiptoe, leaning her weight against the sofa. Her breasts pressed up against him through the scratchy fabric of his jacket. The feel of it brought to mind his touch. The memory sent a flash of brazen need coursing through her.

Instinctively, her hands moved up his chest, over his shoulders, and to the back of his head. The silk ribbon in his queue entangled in her fingers. She pulled on it impatiently.

“Ouch,” he grunted in pain when she tugged too hard. He tried to pull back but she wouldn’t let him, determined to feel his hair as it cascaded down around them. In a moment, it was loose, its soft, salt-smelling strands sliding up against her cheek.

She moaned. Garrick cupped the sides of her face with his own hands and tilted her chin up. She yielded to the sweet pressure of his thumbs and opened for him. A spicy taste flooded into her mouth.

She ignited on the spot.

His tongue touched hers, lightly at first, then growing more and more aggressive. Her front teeth bumped into his, causing him to draw back.

“Sorry,” she mumbled through swollen lips, then quickly pulled his head back down toward her. Their noses bumped in the process.

This time she immediately opened her mouth. Garrick didn’t. She tilted his jaw down as he had her own. He opened. Lucy sighed, reveling in the feel of Garrick’s tongue when it finally mated with hers. She stroked his back, feeling terribly naughty, but glorying in his answering groan.

“Oh, Garrick,” she murmured as he trailed kisses down the side of her neck, unbuttoning her jacket at the same time. She didn’t protest at all when he parted the coat to reveal her flesh, didn’t protest at all when he lifted her up so she could sit on the back of the couch, bringing her breasts closer to his mouth. All she wanted was to feel the warm heat of him touching her.

She felt his breath at first, hot and then moist as it wafted across her bare flesh. Then, with the softest of touches, his tongue touched her collarbone, almost like a feather. She arched into him, wanting him to lick lower.

He did.

Yes,
she thought.
Oh, please,
she silently begged.
Please, please touch me there.

He exhaled, his breath cooling her wet skin; her nipples turned into hard, pink pebbles.

And then he did it. He lightly nipped the tip. Sharp stabs of heat darted through her body.

“Garrick …” She leaned back farther, driven nearly delirious by the waves of pleasure coursing through her. Something jabbed into her calf. She moved her leg away as he continued to assault first one nipple, then the other. The thing in his pocket jabbed into her uncomfortably. She shoved it away with her foot.

One minute Lucy was leaning back in pleasure; the next she and the couch were falling forward; without Garrick to counterbalance it, the weight of her body was too much for gravity to bear.

She had a brief glimpse of Garrick, doubled over in pain, his hands clasped between his legs, before she squeezed her lids shut only to land a second later amongst a tumble of pillows at Garrick’s feet. For a long moment she simply sat there, stunned, barely able to hear over the sound of her furiously beating heart.

“Cursed,” she thought she heard Garrick mumble. Slowly, she opened her eyes. Garrick stood a few feet away with an expression of frustration and displeasure on his face.

“It wasn’t—”

“Your fault,” he finished for her with a scowl.

“Did ya thrash ‘er?” Tom called from his sprawled position on the chaise when Garrick stormed into the sitting room that adjoined his bedroom. The boy’s expression filled with curiosity as he pushed himself up into a sitting position.

“No,” Garrick snapped, not wanting to be reminded about what had happened downstairs. How he’d managed—despite Arlan’s dire warning—to lose precious days, just how many he had no idea. For the first time he found himself wishing he’d memorized that damn list and its ridiculous penalties, but at the time he hadn’t thought it necessary. Now he knew how wrong he’d been.

He pulled the documents out of his pocket and threw them onto an oak side table with a flick of disgust. A few of them slid off the top to land on the rose and ivory Brussels carpet, not that he cared. Thank God she’d fallen. In fact, he was beginning to wonder if her “accidents” lately didn’t have more to do with Arlanthan the woman herself. It was possible. It was
damn
possible, he realized. Heaven’s way of tampering with his life, not that he had a life.

“Brahh, typhoon a-comin’.”

Garrick paused in shrugging out of his jacket to glare at the parrot.

The bird, seeming to sense his stare, ruffled his gray feathers and opened his massive beak.

“What’s the buzzard doing in here?”

The bird stood up abruptly, ruffled his wings, and preened its feathers. Garrick could have sworn it looked offended.

“Pretty bird,” it called, nodding its head up and down.“Pretty bird.”

“Cornelia caught me visitin’ him and booted me out. I sneaked him down here this mornin’ when she weren’t lookin.’”

Garrick eyed the bird with distaste.“It’s not sleeping in here.”

“I know. I’ll return it later. Where ya goin’?”

“Out,” Garrick replied, ignoring the bird and pulling off his shirt.

Tom gasped as he looked at Garrick’s chest. Thin white lines crisscrossed underneath a mat of golden hair on his chest and arms.“Where’d you get those?”

Garrick paused in pulling on a clean shirt to examine his arms. He shrugged.“Here and there.”

“Ya been in battle?” the boy asked excitedly.

He nodded.

The child’s eyes widened.

Ignoring him, Garrick continued to dress. Hewanted only to escape, wanted only to leave. God’s balls, he was hard. Not since that whore had tied him up in bed and made him wait for it had he been this hard.

“If yer goin’ out wenchin,’ I’m goin’ with ya,” Tom announced.

Garrick paused, leveling the boy a glare. The last thing he wanted was to be reminded of the fact that he couldn’t go out whoring, not that he wanted one. What he wanted was Lucy. And he couldn’t have her.

Ever.

Anger sang through his blood like a gale-force wind.
“If
I were going wenching,” he snapped, “it would be highly unlikely that I’d bring a child with me.”

The boy looked stricken. Garrick wanted to curse. Damnation, what was wrong with him? He’d turned into a heel. An absolute heel. He ran a hand through his hair. The ribbon tying it back was gone. Lucy. Bloody hell.

“But, Garrick” Tom pleaded.“I know the streets like me own hand.”

Garrick had to force himself to soften his voice, force himself to smile. His face felt ready to crack “Thank you, Tom, but no.”

Tom looked away in disappointment.

“Sink your pisser, get a blister,” the bird cackled cheerfully.

Tom looked up and then erupted into uncontrollable laughter. The parrot bobbed his head up and down and fluffed its wings proudly. Garrick turned away, determined to ignore them both.

•  •  •

“Absolutely not, Lucinda Hartford. How could you ask me to do such a thing?”

“Beth, ‘twill only take a hour, perhaps two. And ‘tis not as if I don’t know where we’re going. The address I saw on the papers Garrick pilfered is firmly imprinted in my mind. All we need do is hire a hack to take us there.”

Lucy’s tone was pleading as she paced back and forth in front of her closest friend, next to Salena, of course. Beth didn’t look convinced. After ten years of misadventures, Lucy supposed everybody could reach their limit, even Beth, but that didn’t stop Lucy from trying. Besides, there was simply no one else she could enlist for help. No one.

“Please, Beth,” she begged again. Never had a man been as angry with her as Garrick had been, aside from Lord Montbank, of course. She hadn’t spooked Garrick’s horse with her swan costume.

“Were you planning on waltzing in there and simply asking to be taken to the blackguard?” her friend asked.“And how do you know that the address you discovered is not the same address Adrian already has?”

“I know because Tom told us long ago where he used to live. Beth, I am positive this is Jolly’s new direction.”

Beth pushed impatiently at a black strand of hair which had fallen from the knot atop her head. The wispy strands framed her heart-shaped face, the midnight blue day gown she wore making her eyes more blue, her hair more black. She looked like a china doll.

“And you simply propose to meander over to the most sinister location in all of London,” Beth continued.

Lucy rolled her eyes. Here came the lecture.

“A place where even thieves think twice before venturing. A place called, of all things, the Barmaid’s Tit.” Beth pursed her lips in distaste.“And once there, your plan is to ask one of the patrons if they know of a man named Jolly, and if so, point him out to me, if you please?”

Lucy crossed her arms in front of her.“Exactly.”

Elizabeth stared at her in dumfounded indignation.“You’re insane.”

The idea didn’t sound nearly as good when Beth said it that way. Her ideas
never
sounded good when her friends repeated them. They had a way of over-dramatizing the danger.“I am going with or without you.”

Blue eyes narrowed.“If you do, I shall tell your aunt immediately what you intend to do.”

Lucy dared her with a look.“Oh? If you tell my aunt what I intend, I will tell your mother about the time we sneaked into Almack’s two years ago.”

Beth stiffened.“Lucy, you wouldn’t dare.”

“I would.”

“I shall never speak to you again if you do.”

Lucy shrugged in a manner of extreme indifference.

“And going to Almack’s was entirely
your
idea,” Beth added.“I wouldn’t have gone at all if Salena hadn’t convinced me she needed my help to keep
you
out of trouble.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t change the fact that we werealmost caught,” Lucy countered.

“Because you tipped over the plant we were hiding behind.”

“And you were almost seen by Lord Harrington.”

“Because you forgot where the back exit was,” Beth pointed out.

“And you almost jumped into the wrong coach.”

“Because I was stupid enough to believe your brother when he said he’d be waiting for us by that lamppost.”

“I’m going, Beth, and that’s that.”

“Why did I agree to this?” Beth moaned a half hour later. She hunched as far back into her seat as possible, eyeing the filth clinging to the walls and floor of the hired hack with distaste.

“You agreed to this because you’re my friend and you care for me.”

“Oh,” Beth retorted halfheartedly, “is that why?”

Lucy nodded. But Beth ignored her. Lucy nibbled her bottom lip, then released a breath, worrying. There was a chance that this plan might not go very well. She glanced outside the carriage, noting the dilapidated condition of the buildings and the rough appearances of the people on the street. But she
had
to do this. What other opportunity would she have to impress Garrick with her cunning?

“I wonder how much longer?” Beth mused, her hands clenched in her lap.

Lucy sighed, her own hands clenched to stop themfrom trembling.“Relax, Beth.” Her voice came out a high squeak. She cleared her throat, then tried again.“We’ll be there before you know it.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

Lucy looked away, refusing to let her friend see how nervous she herself was. The coach began to slow and then jangle to a stop. Both of them stiffened; Lucy peeked outside.

“I’m not going in there,” Beth promptly announced.

Lucy didn’t blame her. It looked as if it were a brothel, not a bar.“Then I shall go in alone.”

Seconds later the coachman opened the door and let the rank air from the Thames into the carriage. The putrid breeze caused Beth to pull her blue cloak tightly around herself.

“Well, duckies, ‘ere ya are. I’d offer to wait ‘cept I values me ‘ide too much … an’ the contents of me stomach. Like ta see you two lookers waltz in there, I would.” He cackled merrily, displaying rotted teeth.

“But you have to wait for us.” Lucy said, trying not to breathe through her nose.

“Sorry, ducky.”

“Then how will we get home?” she asked, her heart scratching at her chest even more erratically.

The coachman shrugged.

Beth covered her nose with her handkerchief and said, “Let’s turn back.”

“No,” Lucy asserted firmly. She would not turn back. She had to do this. Not only did Tom need her help, but this plan was certain to impress Garrick. And she knew that if she could earn his admiration, she’d have a chance to win his love. She turned to the coachman.“Will you circle the block to wait for us?”

“Not in this neighborhood.”

Lucy frowned.“How about coming back for us in, say, an hour?”

“An hour?” Beth exclaimed.“We will be dead within five minutes.”

The coachman flashed his rotted teeth at them again.“If ya want’s me ta come back in an hour, I’d be glad to. But I ain’t waitin’ for ya a minute beyond.”

Lucy nodded, relieved, then pulled her green cloak up over her head and stepped down from the carriage. She took a deep breath of marginally less putrid air, hearing Beth do the same. A few moments later, she watched the coach rumble away, then peeked a glance at Beth. Her friend looked ready to retch.

“Well, I suppose we should enter,” Lucy said brightly.

“Please, Lucy, I’m begging you to rethink this.”

“I’ve quite made up my mind, Beth.”

And with that she strode forward and pushed on the door with more force than absolutely necessary. The wood, being old and worn, was much lighter than it looked. As a result, it swung away from her and headed toward the connecting wall with the speed of a battering ram.

The boom as it collided with the supporting wall could no doubt be heard all the way to France. The rafters shook, sending a flurry of dust and grime onto patrons huddled around the tables. Lucy watched in horror as a piece of soot wafted down through the air like an errant snowflake and landed on the nose of anangry-looking man. It stayed there until the man reached up and slowly wiped it away, leaving a giant black streak in its wake.

Lucy pulled her gaze away from that streak only when the door started to close. She jerked Beth forward, nearly jumping out of her skin when it clanged shut behind her with the finality of a prison gate.

No one spoke a word.

She cleared her throat.“I, ahh … May I, ahh … may I speak with the owner?”

Silence.

“He’s busy, mort,” someone spoke at last.“But ya can come over ‘ere.”

Lucy smiled, growing even more nervous under the eyes of the bar’s patrons. Beth shifted alongside of her.

When they didn’t move, another voice boomed out, “Bet I could make ‘er come.”

The place erupted into laughter.

“Dickon, that dog’a yours don’t even come. Maybe ya should keep practicin’ on it afore ya move on ta something with two legs.”

There were loud guffaws at this, some of the patrons even slapping the table with their big, callused hands. Lucy stared at the crowd, her face turning ten shades of crimson. She just
knew
they were being lewd. She gritted her teeth.
Think of Garrick. Think of a big smile on his face. Think of approval.

She clutched the scratchy wool of her cloak, lifting up her gown as she picked her way around scattered debris, scuffed boots, and overturned chairs.

A burly man stood behind the counter washingtankards. Lucy headed straight for him, ignoring the sudden thought that he looked as if he could rip her arm off and beat her over the head with it.

Still, she was unable to stop her nervousness from increasing enough so that her voice was a dry croak when she asked, “Are you the owner of this fine establishment?”

He didn’t answer, just continued to stare at her through narrowed eyes as he meticulously washed the mugs with a filthy rag. Lucy glanced at Beth, who had shrunk so far back into her cloak, she looked like a monk on his way to a confessional. She turned back to the brute.

“I am, ahh … I am looking for a man named Jolly. Perhaps you could direct me to him?”

“Never ‘eard of ‘im.”

At least he had answered her, Lucy thought. It was a start. She swallowed and tried again.“If you could direct me to the owner, perhaps he can help me?”

“What’s a pretty lass such as you want with a blighter like Jolly?”

The voice came from behind her. Lucy whirled to face a table surrounded by four men. She wasn’t sure which man had spoken, so her gaze encompassed them all.“I, ahh … I have something for him.”