Powder of Sin (17 page)

“Miss Ambermere,” the doctor said and squinted at
Reed. “Oh. Hello, Reed. Did you knock me out?”

“Yes.”

“Good thing too. I can’t remember exactly what I’d
said, but I’m sure it was appalling.”

Mary stopped yanking at the desk.

Reed looked at Miss Ambermere, who apparently
understood his unspoken question, because she nodded. He knelt by
the doctor and unlocked the irons. “Try anything with Miss
Ambermere again, and I’ll take you down. Harder this time,” he
said.

The doctor teetered a little as he climbed to his
feet. He touched his jaw and grimaced. Holding his head between his
hands as if afraid it might fall from his neck, he went to the sofa
and sank down onto it slowly.

“Interesting that the effects of the substance are
nearly eliminated by unconsciousness.” He spoke in a near whisper.
“I have a mild concussion, I believe. I wonder if such violent
force is necessary.”

“You attacked Miss Ambermere, and—”

“I mean necessary to halt the effects of the
substance.” He fell silent for a moment, then added, “To be
truthful, however, I am still, ah, inflamed. I’m finding it
difficult to shift my concentration away from desire, even with the
damnable headache and some physical pain caused by Miss Ambermere
earlier.”

Miss Ambermere moved next to Reed, and he allowed
himself to brush his hand over her arm. She stepped closer. He
wished he’d witnessed whatever she’d done to cause the doctor some
pain.

“Will you promise to behave?” Miss Ambermere
asked.

The doctor nodded, then winced again. “I understand
the boundaries of propriety again. I can’t say I agree with them,
but I can see them.”

Miss Ambermere eyed him with interest. “Is that an
effect of the powder, do you think? Or have you always held such a
bohemian attitude?”

He snorted, then in an almost singsong voice, he
began to recite, “‘The Bohemian is not, like the creature of
society, a victim of rules and customs; he steps over them with an
easy, graceful, joyous unconsciousness, guided by the principles of
good taste and feeling. Above all others, essentially, the Bohemian
must not be narrow-minded.’”

“Oh no. You hit the poor man too hard,” the maid
said. After a glance at Reed, she added, “Sir.”

“Don’t worry, Mary. I was merely answering the
question.” The doctor carefully felt along his jaw again with
tentative fingertips. “Ada Clare said that rot about Bohemians. My
parents loved stories about her group, which met in some beer
cellar here in the city. So yes, I suppose I have always held such
attitudes.”

He gathered a cushion to his chest, closed his eyes,
and leaned back on the sofa.

“He looks like you did when you were first
recovering,” Miss Ambermere whispered.

“Ravaged?”

“Pale and interesting.” There was laughter in her
low voice.

Reed thought the doctor looked like he had the
day-after symptoms of a man who’d been on a bender.

Miss Ambermere noticed Dr. Leonard’s lap showed the
obvious evidence that the powder hadn’t entirely worn off. She
caught Reed watching her and blushed. “Shall we leave now that we
know he’s not a threat?”

He nodded. “May I get a ride back to your house with
you?”

“Certainly.”

She moved closer to the doctor, but not within arm’s
reach. Smart woman. She leaned over and spoke in a stern voice,
addressing the doctor. “I wonder, should I take this with me, or
should I trust that you won’t open it again?”

The doctor opened his eyes. “You mean you forgive
me? My dear Miss Ambermere.” He struggled to his feet and held out
his hand. Reed hoped she wouldn’t take it, but she did. Silly
woman.

The doctor swallowed hard and squeezed her hand.

After a minute, she made the effort to pull her
gloved fingers from his grip and asked, “Shall I leave the powder
with you?”

He frowned at the box and at her. He blinked a
couple of times. “I want you to leave it, yes, very badly. But I
think until I’ve had that safe delivered—and perhaps a breathing
apparatus—you probably shouldn’t.” He collapsed on the sofa again,
legs and arms spread wide like an elegant beached starfish. “I will
come to you with the contract, and I will collect it the moment the
safe arrives.” Another long blink, as if he was trying to fight the
influence. He looked up at Reed. “Do you own a firearm?”

“No.”

“I don’t either, and I don’t know the first thing
about the damned objects. You know how to use one?”

Reed nodded.

“We can’t risk that falling into any other hands.”
He gave a hoarse laugh. “Can you imagine what would happen if some
mugger looking for easy money found that?”

“I’ll get a weapon as soon as I can. You send word
to me, and I’ll meet you at Miss Ambermere’s house.”

“Good. You have somewhere safe to store it, I hope,”
Dr. Leonard said. He was definitely coming out from under the
influence if he could consider matters other than Miss Ambermere’s
body.

“I’ll get it safely back to her house, but after
that…”

“Mr. Clermont will be waiting for us there.” She
held up the hatbox gloomily. “This is rather obvious, and the
smaller box isn’t much better.”

Reed allowed himself another touch on her arm.
“We’ll think of something to keep it safe for a few days.” The
immediate threat was over, so he shifted the shackles to an inside
pocket of his jacket. They were less accessible, but the weight of
them didn’t show. “Dr. Leonard, don’t forget to send word. You have
my card and direction.”

Glancing back at the tableau of the doctor still
sprawled on the couch with the maid hovering nearby, Reed escorted
a silent Miss Ambermere out the door.

He stopped her before she went down the steps to the
waiting carriage.

“Do you trust your coachman?”

She gave Reed a confused, startled look. “I suppose
so. Yes.”

“Let him hold on to your box after you return home
so you don’t walk inside the house carrying it. I’ll go round and
meet him and find a place to store it.”

Her brows drew together—she clearly wanted to tell
him she could take care of the problem herself.

Before she could say a word, he went on. “I won’t
take possession of the powder. I have Clermont to worry about,
after all. The hotel is a bad place to store it for plenty of other
reasons as well. I was thinking perhaps between you and the
coachman, you could think of a place on your property, and I’d
simply act as the transportation.”

She wrinkled her nose and surprisingly grinned at
him. “You could see I was about to kick, couldn’t you?”

He put his hands up as if she held a gun. “I
understand.”

“Do you really?” Her surprise was genuine. “Well,
I’m not entirely certain I do. I believe it must be a habit from a
fear of misunderstanding.”

An interesting comment, but before he could ask what
she meant, she was down the stairs, already speaking to the
coachman, who held the door open for her. “Mr. Reed is joining me.
Please take us home.”

The coachman gave Reed a long, dark stare, then
climbed onto his bench.

As they drove, she shoved open the little door.
“Hawes, Mr. Reed will ask for your help, and I want you to do as he
says. Please.”

“Ma’am.”

“And no matter what happens, I promise to do what I
can to help you as well, Hawes. All right?” She slid the door
shut.

“What does he need your help with?”

She shrugged. “Dull domestic matters.” She gazed out
the window, too intensely interested in what was outside the
carriage, and he sensed she had another one of those interesting
secrets.

After a moment, she leaned back again and asked,
“Did you really meet Mr. Clermont in school?”

He nodded.

“I can’t imagine you were friends.”

“No, he ran with a reckless crowd. I didn’t.”

“Were you with any sort of crowd at all?”

He couldn’t help smiling. “One only requires one or
two good friends, and I found them.”

“You know all about my father and mother. Tell me
about yours.”

“Nothing to tell. I had one of each. They both died
four years ago.”

“I’m sorry they’re dead. Tell me about your brothers
and sisters.”

“Seven altogether. Three of each besides me, and I’m
second.”

She reached over and shook his arm. “You are
terrible with details. Come on—names, ages. I’m an only child and
have always been fascinated by large families.”

He looked down at her hand, small against his
forearm, and wished he was brave enough to capture it, pull her
close, steal some more kisses. Instead he cleared his throat.

“Edgar, Elizabeth, Mabel, Richard, Virginia, and
Jacob. Edgar’s twenty-nine; Jacob is twelve.”

“And between Edgar and Elizabeth, you, Gideon.”

His Christian name, spoken fondly in her soft voice,
proved too much. He slid across the plush velvet seat and put an
arm around her shoulders. “What did the doctor do to you, Miss
Ambermere? Rather I should ask, are you all right?”

“I’m fine, Mr. Reed. We’ll be back in a matter of
minutes, and perhaps you should get out before then. Not arrive at
the same time as I do.”

“Good plan.”

She didn’t move from his embrace, and the sensation
of her under his arm, tucked against his side, immediately made him
hard. He held his breath, just as he’d done in the doctor’s
library. The smell and feel of her was as intoxicating as the
chemicals. He gave up. Too much longing for so many hours, days.
The bonnet she wore hid her face from him, so he pulled it off and
put it on the bench next to him.

She tilted her head back and watched him with solemn
eyes. She knew what was going to happen. She didn’t object.

Another kiss. The last one, he promised himself. A
small indulgence for pleasure’s sake. He’d avoided pleasure so
long, the need for it ate at him.

But then her mouth on his interrupted his
justifications and silent arguments, and there was only the feel of
her body against his arm, then her warm hand on his nape, sliding
down his back and clutching him too. Pulling him close.

She pulled away first, panting and pink-cheeked.
When she released her grip, he reluctantly moved away, almost
crushing her hat. He handed it to her and watched her tie it
on.

“This is far enough, I think,” she said. “You should
walk from here.” Cool and only slightly out of breath. He didn’t
know what he’d expected or what he even wanted.

A slap, a
how dare you, a what do you think
you’re doing
, a soft declaration of affection. Something.

He wasn’t expecting the blunt Miss Ambermere to say
absolutely nothing at all about the long, deep kisses they’d
shared. At least her fingers weren’t entirely steady as she
adjusted the bow.

He would match her calm demeanor. “I’ll see you very
soon,” he said and opened the hatch to talk to the driver. “Please
pull over to the curb. I’ll be around back to see you, Hawes, in a
half hour or so, I hope. I’ll leave it to Miss Ambermere to
explain.”

He climbed down from the carriage and walked away
without looking back. He waited until his body calmed somewhat,
then trotted toward her quiet side street, once again absorbed in
thoughts about the perplexing Miss Ambermere.

She’d seemed so interested in him, asking about his
family.

He hadn’t known her soft voice coaxing details of
his life would be as seductive as that succulent body. He was
lonely as well as in need of physical companionship.

Yet after the moment of intimacy, she had lost that
warmth. He’d lay odds she wasn’t a flirt. Perhaps she was confused
by the dance they fell into together. God knew he was. Once this
episode ended, he’d look forward to the freedom to travel in this
interesting new world and to search for new paths for himself. That
certainly didn’t include trying to satisfy a young lady who’d
always known wealth. She’d demand a quality of life he’d never
experienced, except as Clermont’s keeper.

But it wasn’t fair to cast Miss Ambermere in the
common mold. She was no ordinary woman. There was the fact that
he’d started mauling her right after an attack by the doctor. She’d
shown she was no melting, mewling maiden, and whatever the doctor
had done, she’d managed to shake it off. Even think clearly.

He slowed to a walk when he reached her block. Her
carriage wasn’t out front, so he’d either beaten the slow city
traffic, or she was circling the area to give him time or give her
coachman directions about the box. He went up the stairs, praying
Clermont had stayed put.

“Is Mr. Clermont still here? I know he came to call
earlier.” He also knew he’d been admitted to the house despite the
fact that Miss Ambermere wasn’t at home. Clermont had a way of
working these things.

“Yes, sir, but he’s…” The butler gave him a
goggle-eyed, gaping-maw expression of a panicked fish, then glanced
at the parlor.

“Is he alone?”

“No, sir.” The butler’s voice dropped. “He is with
Lady Williamsford, Miss Ambermere’s mother. She returned from her
outing early.”

Reed groaned. At least he’d returned before Miss
Ambermere.

He glared at the butler and walked quickly down the
hall. “Oh damnation. Are they alone? Where’s that companion?”

“Lady Williamsford sent her on an errand, I
believe.”

“And you’ve heard nothing…untoward? No angry
voices?”

“Sir!”

He pushed past the butler, who seemed to be blocking
the path. “Don’t be offended, Beels. That’s your name, isn’t it?
Mr. Clermont is an expert at getting around servants.”

“I don’t understand, sir.” From his outraged tone
and stiff posture, it was obvious the butler did indeed understand
Reed’s implications.

But just to make it clear, Reed explained, “Bribes,
usually. He’s paid a small fortune in bribes—usually to keep the
staff from ignoring cries of protest.”