Tempted at Every Turn (21 page)

James had changed everything, though. He’d opened her eyes and her heart, and now she might not ever get the chance to thank him or tell him how she felt.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw the door move slightly. “Talk to him,” she whispered to Camille. “Keep him focused on you.” If they could keep him distracted, perhaps he would not notice when James stepped into the room.

“Randall, think of what you’re doing,” Camille pled with her husband.

“Shut up, Camille,” he yelled. “I have no further use for your lies.” He took two steps toward them and Willow saw the door behind the duke open even further. James peeked into the room, but was careful to remain unseen.

“I went over there that night to cut off his funding,” the duke explained. “I had heard he’d been taking unsavory photographs and selling them. Chester Fields bought several of them, but then he was always an offensive man. But I didn’t want our good name sullied with the likes of Drummond’s activities.” Then he released a humorless laugh.

James stepped all the way into the room and crept along the wall behind the duke. Willow squeezed Camille’s hand, hoping the woman would do nothing to alert her husband to James’ presence. The woman gasped.

“You know what I found, don’t you?” the duke asked, his features lined with disgust.

“Yes,” she blurted out, tears streaking down her face, “my photographs.” Her voice was no more than a whimper. She was doing well at keeping her husband distracted.

He nodded. “You can save those tears of yours, my dear, I can assure you I am rather unaffected.”

Although Willow was not so certain that was the truth. He might not feel compassion for his young wife, but he was not unaffected.

“Yes, I found those filthy photographs of you,” he continued. “And there he was, sleeping on the damned chaise lounge, where your naked body had been in those pictures.” He shook his head.
“I couldn’t allow that. Not my wife. Not my good name. What was he going to do with those images, Camille? Was he going to sell them for the highest price? Come and buy a picture of the Duke of Argyle’s whore wife.”

“You never spoke to him?” she asked, clearly surprised.

James inched closer to the duke and Willow kept reminding herself to breathe. She didn’t want to do anything to alert the duke to James’ presence behind him. She continued squeezing Camille’s hand, hoping the woman would continue doing what she’d been doing.

“No. I simply picked up the nearest thing I could find and I killed him,” his tone remained as even as if he’d only announced that he was retiring for the evening.

“So you never knew,” Camille said softly.

James kicked hard, hitting the duke behind the knees and buckling his legs so that he fell to the ground. The gun went off, shooting the wall behind them. Camille screamed. James put his knee in the duke’s back, then pulled his arms back to place the manacles on him.

“Never knew what, Camille?” the duke yelled, lifting his head.

“That we were having an affair. That I loved him.” She put her hand on her heart, then shook her head. “You killed him for some silly pictures.”

“You will pay for this,” he told her.

“No, I believe you’ll be the one paying,” James told him. “Your Grace, the Metropolitan Police will be filing charges against you for murdering Malcolm Drummond and for attempting to murder your wife and Miss Willow Mabson.” He pulled the man to his feet and then called for the constables waiting in the hallway. James stepped over to Willow. “Are you all right?” He ran his hand down her cheek and looked her up and down.

“Yes.”

“Let me help them bring him outside to the wagon. I have some papers I have to sign. You ladies wait right here.”

James hauled the duke out of the room and Willow heard Camille sigh deeply.

“What will you do now?”

Camille gave her a shaky smile. “I’m not certain. Spend his money, perhaps.”

“Will you be all right here tonight, alone?”

She took a deep breath, then moved to sit on the edge of the sofa, her hands constantly wringing the fabric of her dress. “Probably not.” She gave a shallow laugh. “My sister does not live far from here, and she’s always itching to rid herself of my pesky nephews for a few hours. I believe I’ll stay with them for a few days, and then see how I feel.” She rose and embraced Willow. “Thank you
for this. I’m certain he would have killed me,” her voice choked on the last word.

Willow squeezed her tightly, then pushed back to look Camille in the face. “You’re welcome, and you send for James if you need anything at all.”

Camille nodded. “Go.” She smiled. “I know love when I see it. Don’t ever let anything stand in the way of love. I should have done that when I had the chance. Go. Get your inspector.”

Willow smiled in return, and then raced out of the room. She nearly ran straight into James as she stepped out onto the front stoop.

“You worried the hell out of me, woman,” he said, pulling her tightly to him. He held her for several long moments before loosening his hold on her. Then he frowned and cupped her face. “What is it? Willow, what’s the matter? Why are you crying?”

She swiped at her tears. Infernal things simply wouldn’t stop. “I love you,” she said, her voice sounding rather annoyed. Then she released a nervous laugh. “I know it doesn’t mean anything to you, but I just wanted to be able to tell you. I can’t believe I only just realized it today. I’m sure you’ve known for quite some time now.” Like her tears, her words came in a swift flow she couldn’t seem to control. “I can’t imagine I’ve been all that discreet. Oh, all the things I’ve said to you, I feel like such a fool. Well, aren’t you going to say anything?”

He smiled and grabbed both of her hands. “You were talking and I didn’t want to interrupt you.”

“Oh, right. Sorry.”

“So you discovered today that you love me?” He seemed amused, his lips lifted in that devastating smile of his.

“Yes. You think I’m a silly schoolgirl, don’t you?”

“Why would I think that? Willow, I love you, have loved you probably from that first night at Colin and Amelia’s house. That sharp tongue of yours entranced me from the very beginning.” He shrugged. “I was simply waiting for you to come around.”

“You knew I would fall in love with you?”

“Of course. How could you not? I am dashing and intelligent and—”

She popped him on the arm. “Of all the arrogant…”

He laughed and pulled her into his arms. “I know I’m a lowly detective, but I was hoping you had reconsidered and would agree to become my wife.”

She frowned. “My brother said I should marry you.”

“Did he, now? Smart man, your brother.”

“I was rather hoping you would ask me again, since I said no the first time.”

“Yes, you did and I must admit, my pride is
still rather bruised. You might have some making up to do on that account.”

“I have not even agreed to be your wife yet.”

“Well,” he asked.

“Yes, of course I’ll marry you.” Then she smiled. “On one condition.”

“I should have known that with you, there will always be conditions.”

“Yes, you should have known that.”

“What is it?”

“Even if I am not an official employee of the Metropolitan Police, I shall assist you in all of your investigations.”

“I think that’s asking a bit much.” He kissed her on the forehead. “You are going to be the most difficult wife in London,” he said.

“I suspect I might be,” she agreed.

“I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

S
he was married.

Willow stood in a crowded parlor awaiting the grand feast in celebration of her nuptials. She and her three friends huddled together as they’d done at countless balls and soirees, but today it was different.

She was a married woman. Not only that, but she loved her husband, and he loved her. She shook her head in disbelief, it still seemed so farfetched, yet it was true nonetheless.

Willow knew she had a foolish grin on her face, but it would not seem to fade. And at the end of the day, she’d spent so much of her life not smiling that it felt amazingly good to feel giddy with love. Her friends chatted around her, but she heard none of their words.

“I feel certain that we can still catch him, uncover his identity,” Charlotte said.

The Jack of Hearts, Willow realized. So often their
talk turned to him. He’d been their ongoing investigation for almost two years, and still they had been unable to uncover any decent information on him. Granted the police hadn’t fared much better.

“We might never catch him,” Meg said, rubbing her hand across her large belly.

“Perhaps it is past time we let go of this particular mystery,” Willow agreed.

Amelia cleared her throat. “We cannot relent yet, ladies. There are still clues to uncover, and I have a feeling that when it comes to this case, we will prevail.”

Charlotte sighed in relief.

James appeared behind her. “Might I borrow my wife for a moment?”

The word “wife” sent a fresh wave of shivers through her. She had spent much of her life believing that marriage was not to be for her, and for once she’d been glad to be proven wrong. Through the crowd they walked and out the parlor, into a darkened study.

Once the door was closed behind them, he pressed his body against hers. “Do you know how badly I want you right now?”

Desire poured over her limbs. “I think I might have a small inkling.”

“There is a perfectly good rug in this very room,” he said, then nibbled his way down her neck.

She enjoyed the torment for a while, before
popping him on the arm. “James, honestly, we cannot do this here. Right now.”

“Why not?”

“Because everyone will know what we’re doing. Besides.” She walked her fingers down the center of his torso. “I want to take my time with you tonight.” She went up on her toes and gave him a fiery kiss.

“Saucy wench. When you put it that way, you know I cannot deny you.” He linked her arm with his as he led her out of the room. “Indeed. So what is the Ladies’ Amateur Sleuth Society scheming tonight?”

“We were discussing whether or not we should cease our chase of the Jack of Hearts,” she said.

“And what was the consensus?”

“We’ll keep hunting. We’ll find that bandit, sooner or later.”

“Of that, I have no doubt, my love. As much as I’m loathe to admit it, you are quite the detective,” he said with a smile.

“Loathe?”

He squeezed her to him. “Okay, perhaps not loathe, but I will not concede that your detecting skills rival mine. But I love you, nonetheless.”

“How positively generous of you,” she said.

“And.” He nudged her.

“And I love you.” She could not help but laugh. “Even though you are completely insufferable.”

R
OBYN
D
E
H
ART
always knew she wanted to be a writer, but it took a while to discover precisely what she wanted to write. Reading Kathleen Woodiwiss’s
A Rose in Winter
sealed the deal, and she’s been reading and writing romance ever since. She should have realized she was destined for this career when her Barbies insisted on hosting elaborate masquerade parties, complete with stolen kisses in the moonlight. Researching her novels is always exciting, but when it involves eating chocolate, it’s especially sweet. She lives in the foothills of the Smokey Mountains in Tennessee, with her incredibly supportive husband and two very spoiled cats. She loves to hear from readers. You can visit her website at
www.robyndehart.com
.

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This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author?s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

TEMPTED AT EVERY TURN
. Copyright © 2007 by Robyn DeHart. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

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