Tempting a Sinner (16 page)

“As soon as I’ve put on my bonnet.”

“Then I’ll meet you in the hallway.”

Several hours later, the carriage was filled with parcels and the countess was complaining about her sore feet. Malinda was too tense to be tired, but managed to sympathize. As the horses slowed once more, she met Faith’s questioning look with a calm smile.

“I hope you don’t mind. I have one more call to make. You can stay in the carriage if you don’t want to come in with me. I’ll be as quick as I can.”

The countess sat forward. “Where
are
we?”

“Alford House.” Malinda opened the carriage door before the footman reached it. “I promised the marchioness I’d pop in for her ‘at home.’ ”

“Malinda, wait—”

Without heeding her companion, Malinda ran up the steps and was admitted by the same elderly butler she’d seen on her last visit.

“Lady Benedict.” He bowed. “A pleasure to see you again. I’ll escort you upstairs. Her ladyship is expecting you.”

Not pausing to see whether Faith was coming, because Malinda was fairly certain that she would be after her like a hound, she followed the butler up the stairs into the more formal apartments of the mansion.

“Lady Benedict, ma’am.”

The marchioness rose and nodded as Malinda curtsied. There were three other ladies in the room and one gentleman, who were all staring at her with some degree of shock. She suspected she and Benedict would be the subject of much society gossip by nightfall.

“Where is Lady Westbrook?”

“She is just coming up the stairs, my lady.”

“Then I shall await her arrival.” The marchioness walked toward Malinda. As she passed her, she spoke in a low voice, “Take the door in the bookcase at the far end of this room, and you will find yourself in my husband’s study.”

“Thank you.”

Hearing Faith come up the stairs, she picked up her skirts and, smiling graciously at the enthralled guests, went through the false door in the wall and into another room. It was quite different from the cold silver and white of the drawing room. The walls were paneled and the furniture the heavy oak and teak of the previous generation.

“Malinda.”

She turned to see the Marquis of Alford sitting in one of the wing chairs by the fire. He had a cover over his knees and a walking stick by the side of his chair. It was strange to see him looking so small and old. In her imagination he was always huge and terrifying.

“Sit down.”

She took the seat opposite him and clasped her hands on her lap before looking up at him. His eyes were the same bright blue as Benedict’s. How could she have forgotten that?

“Why did you wish to see me, my lord?”

“To straighten out some matters between us without Benedict’s interference.” He studied her for a long moment. “Considering your parents, you’ve turned out quite well. You could almost be mistaken for a lady.”

She raised her eyebrows at him. “As far as your son is concerned, I’m not only a
lady,
but a viscountess.”

A muscle flicked in his wasted jaw. “Why did you come back to England?”

She met his gaze full-on. “To ask you why you killed my father.”

“Why have you suddenly decided to confront me with something that happened years ago?”

“Because I have new evidence to support my claim.” She paused. “Isn’t that why you’ve been trying to kill me?”

“I haven’t.”

“I don’t believe you.”

He sat back. “Tell me what you think you know.”

“Why should I?”

“You wanted this meeting as much as I did, my dear. You desperately want to convict me of this crime.”

“You know I won’t be able to do that officially. You’re a peer of the realm and I’m . . . nothing. No one would take me seriously.” She paused to gather her composure. “I just want to hear the truth.”

He sighed. “I did not arrange that ambush.”

“You must have done, my mother—”

“What exactly did she say? That she had suspicions of me? That she
saw
me? For God’s sake, girl, ask anyone, ask
Benedict,
I was in my tent all that day and night.” He paused and coughed into his handkerchief, the sound hollow. “Whatever your mother thought, I’m not the villain of the piece.”

Malinda stood up, her legs trembling. “You aren’t going to tell me the truth, are you? You’re not capable of it. Dammit, I wish I was a man, and I could call you out.”

“In truth, I wish you were a man. I’d much rather have my brains blown out than die like this.”

“Everyone dies, my lord.”

“Some of us more quickly than others.” He stifled another cough. “I’m dying by inches, Malinda. I asked you here because someone
is
threatening your life, and it isn’t me.”

“Why do you care?”

“Because Benedict is involved. I can’t have my heir being caught up in all this nonsense.”

She stared down at him, wishing it didn’t make a horrible kind of sense. “He doesn’t have to be involved. We’re no longer married, and I can simply walk away again.”

“I don’t think he’ll let you.”

“Maybe he’ll have no choice. I managed to avoid him for over eighteen years. I can disappear again.” She forced herself to meet his gaze. “I’ll even take your money this time.”

“Charming.”

She spun around to see Benedict leaning against the secret door, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression bland.

“Selling me out again, my dear?”

She flattened her hand against her bosom. “How on earth did you know I was here?”

He came farther into the room and, before she realized his intent, grabbed hold of her and expertly removed the pistol from her pocket and confiscated her knife. Setting her free again, his cold gaze fixed on his father. “Are you still willing to help her, sir? Even though she came prepared to kill you? Why is that? What do you fear?”

“She’s the one offering to take my money. I am, however, quite willing to accommodate her desires.”

“So I’ve noticed. If the stick doesn’t work, try the carrot.”

“Good Lord, Benedict, don’t you start.” The marquis sounded incredibly weary. “I have no desire to murder your wife.”

“What about her father? Did you choose to murder him instead?”

Malinda swung around to face Benedict. “He insists he had nothing to do with that either.” She sighed. “And, as I’m fairly certain you will not allow me to force the truth out of him at gunpoint, perhaps we should just leave.”

He held up his hand. “One moment, if you please. Why is my father so interested in talking to you if he has nothing to do with anything?”

She met his gaze. “Because he doesn’t want you to be harmed. I told him that you are no longer responsible for my behavior, that we aren’t married, were barely married in the first place, but—”

“We are married.”

“I signed the papers releasing you before I left.”

“I know.”

“Then—”

His gaze flicked over her. “But I didn’t sign anything. I refused, didn’t I, Father?”

Malinda looked at the older man, who nodded. “That’s the truth. I thought you a fool at the time, Benedict, but recently I have been applauding your foresight.”

“What do you mean?”

“As your wife and a member of our illustrious family, she will never have her claims taken seriously, or be allowed to testify against you in court. In fact, if she keeps insisting I killed her father then, as the head of the family, I’ll simply have her committed.” His triumphant smile was ghastly as he turned his attention to Malinda. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. I don’t need to have you done away with, girl. You are bound to us more completely by blood than you ever were before.”

She turned and walked out, past her mother-in-law, past the Countess of Westbrook and the assorted visitors, and down into the great hall. She knew at some point that someone, probably Benedict, would stop her, but she couldn’t abide the thought of remaining in Alford House for a moment longer. They were still
married
.

She couldn’t even think about what that meant. It changed
everything
. She just couldn’t. . . . There was something she had to do. She forced herself to concentrate on what was achievable instead.

A man she recognized from the Sinners appeared at her elbow. At least it wasn’t Niall, who was on his way to Alford Park with Jenny and the boys. She ignored him and kept going. If he tried to stop her, she would damn well kick and scream and make such a fuss that he’d be forced to unhand her. But he merely kept pace with her, and she could just about bear that.

Maddox Street came into view, and she turned the corner and headed for the smoke-damaged house in the center of the row. Her guard hesitated on the pavement.

“My lady, the house probably isn’t safe. Is there something you want in there? If you’ll wait here, I’ll go and retrieve it for you.”

She shook her head and walked around to the back of the building. The kitchen door was open so she went inside. A dank smell of smoke and damp closed around her, and she held her handkerchief to her face. The stairwell was dark but she kept going until she reached the landing. There was no sign of her guard, although she was certain he was close. She went through into the living room, which appeared relatively unscathed, and spent precious seconds locating the book where she’d hidden her mother’s journal and then hiding it in her reticule.

She heard footsteps on the stairs, ran quickly into the bedroom, and pulled up short. Her hand covered her mouth. There was almost nothing left of the furnishings except blackened stumps. All her new clothes and shoes and hats were gone, fuel to the greedy flames that had destroyed half of the upper floor. If she’d been asleep in bed, would she have died surrounded by fire?

She turned, found her companion at the door, and summoned a smile.

“I just wanted to see if any of my new clothes had survived. It seems that everything was destroyed.”

“Yes, my lady . . .” He hesitated. “Will you allow me to accompany you back to the Sinners Club now?”

“Certainly.” She walked carefully down the stairs and out into the now-trampled vegetable garden behind the house. One of Jason’s toy soldiers lay crushed on the path and she bent to pick it up, her throat aching with unshed tears.

“My lady? I have a carriage waiting on the back street.”

She clutched the broken soldier to her chest and followed him into the carriage.

S
he should have realized that Benedict would not allow her to go upstairs at the Sinners without seeing him first. She was escorted to his office, which was next to Adam’s, by her ever-helpful guard. Benedict sat behind his desk, his blond head bent, busy writing something.

“Sit down, my lady.”

She sat because there was nothing else she could do.

“Benedict . . .”

He flicked a cool glance at her. “If you’ll just give me a moment.”

“But I—”

He finally put his pen down and sat back. “You are covered in soot.”

“It’s not soot. I went back to Maddox Street.”

“Well, I suppose that’s better than running to the nearest port.”

“I needed to see what had survived.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll replace all your garments. I’m sure you’ll understand if I have the bills sent directly to me. I wouldn’t want you having
too
much spare coin.”

She briefly closed her eyes. He wasn’t going to make this easy for her, and why should he? As far as he was concerned, she’d been bargaining with his father for money. God, she was tired of this, of the deceit, of hurting him, when that was the last thing she ever wanted to do again....

“I didn’t go to retrieve my clothes.”

“How stupid of me. You didn’t need them anyway—what with the money you were hoping to extort from my father.”

“Your father asked to see me.”

“And you
agreed.
”

“I was armed, you saw that.”

He shrugged and rearranged the pens on his desk. “You would never have been able to kill him.”

“Why not?”

“It’s harder than you might imagine to kill someone face-to-face.”

“I didn’t think it would come to that. I just wanted to threaten him a little.”

He looked up. “Never take a weapon into a situation where you are not prepared to use it.”

“I thought I
was
prepared to use it.”

He considered her. “Sometimes I don’t understand you at all. Why didn’t you tell me that you were going to see my father?”

She stood up. “I’m tired of repeating myself. I don’t want you to be involved in this. Now, will you let me go upstairs and change out of these filthy clothes and enjoy your bathtub?”

He remained seated. “Do you have any idea what would have happened to you if you’d killed him?”

“I assume I would be tried and hung.”

“And that doesn’t bother you?”

She shrugged. “If he’d admitted to killing my father, I’m not sure I could’ve stopped myself, or whether I would’ve cared.”

“How incredibly selfish of you.” His expression hardened. “You did a stupid and dangerous thing.”

“I had to try.” She made a hopeless gesture. “Please, Benedict, will you let me go now? I promise I’ll fight this out with you tomorrow, but at the moment, I just can’t.”

He didn’t say anything for a long moment, and then he slowly exhaled. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” God, he had no idea. And if she had her way, he never would.

“Go and have your bath, Malinda. I’ll send one of the maids to assist you.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

She was halfway up the stairs before she realized she’d much rather he shake her and rage at her than sit behind his desk and judge her with that cool detachment. But perhaps he was as tired of the conflict as she was and had stopped caring. It was probably for the best. Tomorrow, when she could think more clearly, she would sit down with him and try to tell him the truth.

She was ripping him to pieces. Benedict put his face in his hands and contemplated the silence she’d left behind her. He hated that desolate note in her voice. She’d been vulnerable for the first time, and like a fool, he’d let her go, the thought of interrogating her too much for him to contemplate in his current state. He was still somewhere between reeling at her effrontery and yelling at her for being so careless with her own safety.

He sat up and stared at the dying fire. But did she now believe his father wasn’t the man behind the ambush? Considering she hadn’t grabbed the pistol from him and shot the marquis, he had to imagine that she had. He needed to talk to her about what had led her to the original conclusion that his father was responsible
and
what had dissuaded her in the end.

It was ironic that both of them claimed they didn’t want him involved in their private war and had united to shut him out. His hand clenched into a fist. The idea of them as allies made him want to vomit. The shock of seeing them together haggling over him . . . they had no right to dictate his future between them. He’d allowed that to happen when he was eighteen, and he wasn’t going to let it occur again.

Maybe it was time for him to be honest and tell Malinda what he knew, and hope and pray that she would offer him the same coin. If she didn’t . . . He rose to his feet and headed toward the decanter of brandy. Then he’d have to pass the case over to Adam and stop pretending he was capable of dealing with it after all.

“Good morning, Lady Benedict.”

Malinda smiled at Adam over the breakfast table as the footman settled her in her seat. Although his smile was full of charm, his face was unremarkable and would be easily forgotten, which in his profession was probably an asset. He wore his usual beautifully cut coat and sober waistcoat and would blend into any crowd of respectable gentlemen with consummate ease.

“Good morning, and please call me Malinda. Being referred to as anything to do with ‘Benedict,’ as if I have no identity of my own, is a rather sensitive matter at the moment.”

“I can understand that.” He concentrated on his plate.

“Where
is
Benedict? I haven’t seen him for two days.”

“He did leave in rather a hurry.”

“Hmph.” Malinda paused in the act of pouring her tea. “Coward.”

“Benedict? I don’t think so.”

“I wanted to talk to him, and he knew it.”

“I asked him to go, actually.” Adam sounded apologetic.

“Why?”

“Because he was the only man capable of dealing with the situation I had at hand.”

“Oh.” She sighed. “I suppose I’m being selfish.”

“You can always talk to me.” His smile was a masterpiece of enchantment. “I’m fully up-to-date with what’s happened. I made Benedict tell me everything before he left.”

“I’m sure you did. But it’s really quite simple. He was furious with me for going to see his father.”

“Understandably.”

“Of course, you’re on his side, aren’t you?”

He raised one eyebrow. “I didn’t realize I was in the middle of a war.”

“Well, that’s where we differ. I’ve been living this battle for the last eighteen years.”

“But which member of the Alford family are you at war with? Surely not all of them?”

“They’ve all had their moments.” She slathered butter on her toast. “And now I find I’m still officially related to them. How could Benedict have been so
stupid?
”

“To insist on remaining married to you? There might be many reasons, the desire to infuriate his father, the need to offer you protection, the fact that once Benedict makes up his mind to something he never gives up.”

She knew that far too well. “At least it gives me a valid reason to reside at Alford Park.”

“That’s true.” Adam paused. “Would you like me to arrange your return there while Benedict is absent?”

“How very underhanded of you, Mr. Fisher. I’d prefer to remain here and finish things with Benedict first. He
is
coming back, isn’t he?”

“I believe so.”

“In the meantime, I will behave myself.” She tried to look meek. “I will only go out with Lady Westbrook and never venture across the threshold of Alford House.”

“If you do intend to stay, I would appreciate that. Perhaps I might offer my services to amuse you as well?”

An image of him sucking Benedict’s cock flashed across her memory. “What kind of services?”

“Anything you wish, my lady.”

She regarded him, her head on one side. “Will you let me see what goes on at one of the events on the second floor?”

He smiled slowly. “Now
that
would be my pleasure.”

Three days and two nights chasing a rumor . . .

Had Adam sent him away deliberately? He certainly hadn’t been at his best after his latest altercation with his wife. Benedict contemplated the pouring rain and the stables in front of him. He could take a room at the inn and return to London in the morning, or he could carry on and get soaked for his trouble. He looked back at the welcoming lights of the hostelry and inhaled the scent of roast beef and ale wafting through the door. At least he’d been well fed. A sense of disquiet kept him standing there on the threshold.

“Are we going, sir?”

He turned to see his groom, Tommy, hovering behind him.

“Yes. I’d like to push on to London.”

He detected a faint sigh. “As you wish, sir. I’ll go and see if I can find a pair of decent horses for us in the stables.”

“Thank you.”

He made a mental note to reward Tommy handsomely for his patience with his employer’s whims. They were less than six miles from the Sinners, and as they approached the city, the quality of the roads would improve a little. He checked that his pistol was in his pocket, and that the powder wouldn’t get damp, rammed his hat down further on his head, and walked back to the stables to find Tommy.

“Tonight is about fulfilling our members’ fantasies,” Adam murmured to Malinda as he led her down to the salon of the second floor of the Sinners. “You’ll need to wear a mask or else Benedict will murder me.”

“He can’t do that if he doesn’t return.”

She resented his staying away from her more than she wanted to admit. It was typical of him to disappear just when she’d decided to make a clean breast of it.

“He’ll be back, Malinda. I don’t think anything could keep him away.”

Adam steered her into a small anteroom off the main salon and opened one of the cabinets lining the wall. “Please help yourself to a mask.”

She picked one at random and sat down so that he could tie the strings at the back of her head. “Don’t you need one?”

“No, I’m the host this evening. We take turns.”

“Even Benedict?”

“Naturally.”

“I would’ve thought him too busy saving the country to engage in such licentiousness.”

Adam chuckled. “Oh no, he always made time for his duties here.”

“Are you trying to make me jealous?”

“No, I’m trying to incite you to rebellion. I want you to enjoy yourself this evening.”

“With you?”

“With anyone you choose. Benedict can hardly object, can he?”

“Seeing as he isn’t here, and when he
is
here he engages in such activities himself, how could he object?”

Adam bowed and held out his arm. “Shall we proceed?”

“What exactly do you want me to do?”

His smile was a challenge to misbehave. “Anything you desire, my lady, anything at all.”

Malinda tucked her hand in his arm and allowed him to lead her through to the large gold and white salon. There were several couples dotted around the room, most of them clustered by the large buffet tables at the far end. A hum of conversation rose from the groups, and the occasional burst of laughter. To Malinda’s eyes it all looked rather tame.

Adam glanced at her. “Don’t worry. This isn’t everything I have to show you, but it is the starting point. At the far end of this room is a corridor with six separate rooms leading off it, three on each side. Every month, we ask our members what sexual fantasies they would like to see reenacted or would like to take part in.”

“They have a choice?”

“Some of our members, such as our founders, are married, or in long-term relationships. They will usually only engage in an activity if they are paired together. Sometimes they will suggest the fantasy, and allow others to watch them.”

“And who determines which are chosen?”

“That happy task usually falls to me. I try to find a balance between members who want to participate and those who simply wish to observe.” He pointed out a book that sat on a table near the buffet. “This is where you can write down your wishes for next month.”

“I don’t even know what they are, yet.”

He studied her. “You’ve never imagined trying something out of the ordinary with Benedict?”

“Of course I have, but—” She frowned at him. “I am not going to tell you what that might be either.”

“It’s all right. You can write your requests down anonymously in the book. Now, shall we proceed?”

Malinda chose the first door on the left and slipped into the darkened room, Adam at her side. She turned to ask him a question, but he held his finger to his lips and nodded toward the front of the room.

She realized that something was already occurring in a circle of candlelight at the far end of the room. There was a woman leaning over a red velvet couch. Her face was hidden from view, her arms stretched out over the back of the couch gripping each corner. Her slippered feet were placed neatly together on the floor. As Malinda watched, a man came up behind her and stroked down her spine with his hand until she arched up against him. He slowly gathered her skirts and petticoats in his hand and drew them up to her waist to reveal her stockings, garters, and naked, rounded bottom.

For a moment, Malinda wished her cousin Gwen was with her. Gwen would probably appreciate the sight even more than she did. The man stood back to observe the woman, and then went down on his knees and pushed her feet apart until the audience could clearly see the swell of her sex. He started to play with her, sliding his fingers in and out of her cunt, rubbing her clit, and then bent to take her with his mouth until she visibly trembled.

Malinda raised her eyebrows at Adam. Was this the extent of it? The couple hadn’t done anything that shocked her particularly. He simply smiled and gestured at the stage, where another man, this time a younger one, was approaching the woman. The first man moved around to the front of the couch and knelt on the seat, unfastening his trousers to expose the length of his cock to the woman.