Lady gambit, p.17
Lady Gambit, page 17
“Them?”
She recalled seeing them as she peered through the verdure, the moon a haunting silhouette behind them. She remembered the stark warning, the unsettling words they repeated for days on end.
You say nothing, do you hear?
If they threaten you with the noose, button those lips.
“Who told you to hide in Green Park?” It was Dorian’s voice this time. “Who came to fetch you the night you ran? Was it Davey?”
“No.” She inhaled deeply as the dense clouds dispersed and a picture formed. What she saw left her rigid in the seat. “It was Mrs Haggert and a faceless man with a ruby-topped walking stick.”
Chapter Fourteen
Mrs Haggert had lied.
Davey hadn’t stumbled upon Delphine in Green Park. Mrs Haggert had dragged the child from her hiding place. But who was her sinister male companion? Who was the faceless man with the ruby-topped walking stick?
Nora Adkins’ words flitted through Dorian’s mind as he waited for Chabert to bring Delphine out of her trance. Mention of the unusual accessory proved Nora wasn’t completely mad. She may have spouted nonsense, but she had described the man who kept her a prisoner in Bethlem.
Big black hat. Big shiny shoes. One ruby eye on a stick.
It had to be the man who collected Delphine from Green Park.
But what was his connection to Mrs Haggert?
Unfortunately, there was only one way to find out.
“When you open your eyes, you will remember events with renewed clarity.” Chabert’s words were a little firmer now, though still highly persuasive. “Memories, they will begin to appear from the shadows. But you will not be afraid. You will welcome them into your heart like long-lost relatives.”
He met Dorian’s gaze.
A silent caution not to force her to remember.
“On the count of five, you will become aware of Flynn’s hands on your shoulders, and you will know you are safe.”
The comment caused a quickening in Dorian’s core. He recalled how delicate she felt in his arms, how fragile and vulnerable she was during moments of self-doubt. She was the beauty amid the chaos. A reason to make plans for the future. Just as her inner strength had helped to tear down his barricades, he would spend his life helping her to cope with her painful past.
“Three … four.” Chabert paused before reaching five. He clicked his fingers as the last number left his lips. “You may feel tired,” he said, lifting Delphine’s chin and gazing deeply into her eyes. Whatever he saw, he seemed satisfied. “Or you may have an unusual burst of vigour. Either way, your mind will be calm, madame, your thoughts like gentle ripples on the water.”
“Thank you, monsieur,” she said, her voice a mere whisper.
Dorian rounded the chair, his hands slipping off her shoulders. She looked dazed and blinked like she had just woken from a peaceful slumber.
“Do you still remember me, Delphine?”
He would never forget her.
He would never forget the warmth of her smile, the flame of passion in her eyes, and the arousing cadence of her voice as she writhed beneath him, urging him to claim her virtue.
A knot of dread tightened in his throat. Now he knew why Aaron kept her within arm’s reach. Love came with the fear of loss. And there was no question Dorian was in love with her.
Her eyes met his. He could drown in those hypnotic brown pools.
“You’re not the kind of man a woman forgets,” she said. “The space reserved in my mind for you, Dorian, is too sacred for a mere mortal to erase.” The sultry edge to her voice had his blood pooling in his loins. “Making more memories will ensure you’re never far from my thoughts.”
The desire to slake a physical need had him whispering, “I’ll give you a memory you’ll never forget. I’ll be the last thing you think about in bed tonight. The first thing on your mind in the morning.”
The hitch in her breath said she wanted him just as badly. She glanced at Chabert, who was busy making notes at his escritoire. “There’s a pretty orangery in your garden. It’s the perfect place for a secret rendezvous. We might meet there tonight.”
“I shall bring the champagne.”
Dorian might have kissed her quickly had Chabert not crossed the room and thrust a note into his hand. “I remember talk of a fellow skilled in mind manipulation. A technique he had learned in Vienna. His name was Tobias Trigg. I mention him because he carried a silver cane with a round ruby encrusted in the handle.”
Disturbed by the coincidence, Dorian stood and read the note, shocked to find Tobias Trigg had premises in Seven Dials.
Damn Mrs Haggert. The fabulist had stared them in the eye and invented an elaborate tale. But one did not enter the hen house and cast aspersions, not without evidence. First, they needed to learn everything they could about Tobias Trigg.
“You say was like Mr Trigg no longer exists,” Delphine said.
“Some say he is alive, but I fear he is dead, madame,” Chabert replied, putting paid to Dorian’s plan. “I have not seen or heard of him in years. But there may be a record of him at Bow Street. Complaints were filed against him for his irregular methods.”
They didn’t press the mesmerist for more details because he mentioned his next appointment and began tidying the room. While Dorian helped Delphine from the chair, Chabert dabbed cologne on his wrists and combed his hair.
“Might I ask you to straighten my cravat, madame? I must fix my spectacles. It hurts my head to squint.”
“Of course.”
Chabert studied her as she obliged him. “Remember, the past has no bearing on the present unless you confuse the two. Live for the beauty of the moment, and happiness shall be the reward.”
After that snippet of wisdom, he peered at his pocket watch, then ushered them into the hall and over the threshold.
“Thank you again, monsieur,” Delphine said.
“I bid you adieu! Return tomorrow if you have any questions. Try to avoid unnecessary exertion.” He gave a sly wink and shut the door.
“How strange,” she said as they navigated the narrow passage.
Moments after they’d emerged onto Chandos Street, the reason for Chabert’s titivating approached the alley. The vivacious brunette glanced over her shoulder before slipping into the shadowed walkway.
“I have a strange suspicion his next client is married,” Delphine said, holding Dorian’s arm as he scanned the street, searching for the armed thugs.
“Chabert has no scruples. He’s sworn never to wed.”
“Are you not of a similar mind regarding marriage, Mr Flynn?”
“Keep moaning into my mouth when we kiss, and I may have a change of heart.” His cock stirred at the memory, hardening at the mere thought of what he would do when they were alone in the orangery.
“When you kiss me like I’m the most desirable woman in the world, how can I not express my pleasure?” Her fingers tightened over his bicep, moving in long, slow strokes as if massaging his aching manhood. “Do you really have champagne at home? I’ve only seen you drink brandy.”
“I have a bottle of Taittinger in the cellar. A gift from a grateful client who had me scouring Hyde Park, looking for her lost Pomeranian.” Lady Allscott hadn’t hired him. She’d accosted him on his morning ride and prodded him with her stick.
“You find missing dogs as well as people?” Amusement danced in eyes that dazzled him. Eyes that would caress him across the dining table tonight, urging him to discard his beef and focus on dessert. Eyes he could easily wake to each morning.
Stone the crows!
He was so enthralled by her that logical thought had abandoned him. “Finding people is my speciality, but how could I not help a woman in distress?”
She feigned a sad pout. “And I thought you’d made allowances for me. I thought I’d bewitched you into becoming my hero.”
“Your hero?” He’d made love to an innocent. It was hardly noble. He stepped a little closer, bent his head and lowered his voice to a whisper. “When it comes to you, I’m every bit a rogue. If we were at home alone, I’d hike those skirts up to your waist, bend you over my desk and make you sing bel canto.”
She gulped. “Why wait until we’re home to be wicked? We have a comfortable carriage. I’m still a little dizzy after being put in a trance and may need to straddle your lap.”
His growl of approval did little to convey the carnal need to mate. “Do you know how hard I am for you right now?”
She glanced at his trousers and gave a throaty sigh. “I need you to strip me out of these clothes, Dorian. I need to be naked with you in bed. Let us return to the Old Swan. If only for an hour.”
Lord have mercy!
He was going to spill his seed there and then.
“What perfect timing.” Daventry appeared, dressed head to toe in black. He doffed his hat to Delphine. “I hoped to catch you. I’m curious to know what you learned from the mesmerist.”
It was rotten timing.
Dorian’s blood burned in his veins. His cock had command of his thoughts and senses, a devil urging him to bury himself inside the woman he loved and pump hard until he reached completion.
“I see you’re still somewhat dazed, Miss Chance,” Daventry said, surely noting her flushed cheeks and ragged breath. “I’ve news to impart but will wait until your heart settles.”
“Yes. Delving into one’s hidden thoughts is daunting.” She glanced back at the alley as if she’d forgotten where she was. “We were just on our way to see you.”
That would have been the most logical course of action had the primal urge to make love not become a distraction. But their need amounted to more than physical desire. She had entered his life in a stunning vision of gold silk, but her courage, kind nature, and passionate heart held him spellbound.
Seeking a distraction, Dorian said, “I’m surprised you didn’t keep our appointment. We expected to see you here at eleven.”
“Chabert’s process requires the participant to relax,” Daventry explained. “My presence may have prevented Miss Chance from falling into a trance. And I had important business across town.”
“Monsieur Chabert gave me a strange drink, which helped with the process.” She touched her abdomen, her nose wrinkling. “It was terribly bitter, but I was able to access a few lost memories.”
“Ah! That explains your dilated pupils.” Daventry scanned Chandos Street. He beckoned Gibbs, who was sitting atop the box of their carriage parked twenty yards away. “We shouldn’t linger on the street. The chances of another attempted abduction are slim, but it pays to be cautious.”
They climbed into the conveyance.
Daventry sat opposite them, a knowing look in his eyes. It was like being silently scrutinised by a parent who knew you’d crept into the kitchen to steal the freshly baked biscuits.
Daventry looked surprisingly tense. “As I mentioned, I bring vital news about the case.” His sombre tone would make anyone nervous. He removed a folded note from his coat pocket and held it like it was their death warrant. “I’ve been working on a lead for two days. An important piece of the puzzle.”
The hesitance in his voice raised the hairs on Dorian’s nape. Daventry was used to delivering bad news. This was different.
“As Flynn suggested, I approached the case as if you were a missing person, Miss Chance. I’m happy to discuss my findings here, or we can return to my office in Hart Street if you prefer.”
Delphine gripped the edge of the carriage seat. “Here will suffice. The anticipation is unbearable. I’m not sure I can wait a second longer.”
Daventry took a moment to gather himself. Those few silent seconds were telling. “The Pulteney Hotel no longer has records dating as far back as 1814. Flynn urged me to search through the chest of old newspapers I keep in the basement at home. I found no mention of a missing child, not from the Pulteney Hotel or any other hotel.”
“Perhaps I was never at the Pulteney Hotel,” she said, a tad despondent. “I may have lived nearby or been in the area for another reason. I may have been there to pick the pockets of foreign dignitaries.”
Such skills would explain why Mrs Haggert kept her for a year.
“I managed to find the old porter who tended the entrance to the Pulteney Hotel during the month you went missing.” The flash of triumph in Daventry’s eyes was short-lived.
While Dorian held his breath, Delphine sat forward. “Did he remember me?” Her lips trembled. “Does he know who I am? Was I a guest at the hotel?”
“He recalls a family living in Bolton Street and even directed me to the right address. He said he always remembers the”—Daventry swallowed deeply—“tragic tales.”
Delphine hung on his every word now. “Tragic tales?”
Dorian could sense her rising panic. He slid his arm around her waist. How could he not offer comfort in her hour of need?
With a heavy sigh, Daventry handed her the folded note. He waited for her to peel back the folds and read the elegant script. “I’m as sure as I can be under the circumstances. You’re Miss Caterina Chadwick. Your father was Oscar Chadwick. He was secretary to the Ambassador to Turkey. While working abroad, he met your mother, Sofia Silva, daughter of an Italian diplomat.”
A stunned silence descended.
A knot tightened in his chest as he watched her struggle to absorb the information. Her hands shook. Her throat worked tirelessly as her gaze fell to the names on the note. A plump tear landed on the paper, the sight ripping Dorian’s heart in two.
“They loved you dearly,” Daventry said, a croak in his voice. “By all accounts, you were a walking image of your mother. I’m certain the same is true now.”
They were the words Delphine had longed to hear, yet they were the ones that broke her spirit. The grief she had been unknowingly holding inside all these years escaped in one long, mournful cry.
Her shoulders sagged. The life seemed to drain from her limbs. Before he could haul her into his arms, she collapsed to the carriage floor and sobbed. Sobbed like the innocent girl snatched from the arms of her beloved parents.
Chapter Fifteen
Delphine woke to find a man sitting at her bedside, his head bowed, his strong, calloused hand wrapped around her cold fingers.
It wasn’t Dorian. Her body didn’t react to the smell of his cologne. His touch didn’t send tingles dancing down her spine. And though the man she loved had a physique that made her mouth water, the sheer power emanating from this man would send Satan scurrying for cover.
“Aaron?” She realised she was still dressed when she reached out to stroke his hair. “Are you awake?”
Slivers of daylight sliced through the gaps in the drawn curtains, though she had no idea of the time or how long she had been dozing in bed. The sweet smell of stewed apples and cinnamon reached her nostrils. She had slept long enough for Mrs Maloney to bake her favourite fruit pie.
Aaron stirred. He raised his head slowly, his tortured gaze settling on her face as if she were a stranger. “I don’t know what to call you,” he said, his voice filled with despair. “I don’t know how to make this right or make amends. All I can do is say I’m sorry. I’m sorry you’ve had to wait this long to learn the truth.”
That’s when she recalled Mr Daventry’s confession.
They loved you dearly.
You were a walking image of your mother.
Those simple facts had squeezed the last breath from her lungs. She’d collapsed to the carriage floor, a sobbing wreck. The vision of an idyllic family scene was too excruciating to bear.
“You’re the last person who needs to apologise.” She pushed an errant lock of raven hair from his brow. This rare glimpse of vulnerability was a blessing.
Women would sell their souls to be alone in a bedchamber with Aaron. Yet thoughts of failure would send him slinking further into the shadows. There’d be no hope of a happy ending for him.
“I blame myself.” They were the words she had been expecting to hear. “I saw no reason to believe Mrs Haggert had lied. Who would leave you alone on the streets? You were so delicate and dainty and—”
She pressed her fingers to his lips to silence him. “It’s not your fault. You were young. You had three brothers to feed, and still you took me under your wing. I’m not sure why. It would have been easier to leave me at an orphanage.”
Silence stretched between them.
Talk of the past was taboo.
Now he was more amiable, she had to know everything.
“Why did you risk your life to save me?” If she closed her eyes, she would be back in Mrs Maloney’s bedchamber, staring at the blood gushing from Aaron’s stab wound, her sixteen-year-old protector fighting to survive.
Aaron swallowed hard.
“Please tell me,” she begged him. “I need to know.”
An internal battle played through his strained expression.
“Because no one tried to save me,” he confessed. “Because I’d felt the fear I saw in your innocent eyes. A fear my father knocked out of me at the tender age of twelve.” His bitter tone belied the flash of raw emotion in his eyes. “During those terrifying nights on the streets, when I was forced to stay awake to protect my brothers, no one put a strong arm around my shoulder. No one assured me everything would be all right.”
Tears filled her eyes.
She clasped his hand, grateful he had opened the secret door to his heart. “I didn’t know what love was until everything fell apart. Our lessons are entwined, Aaron. We had very different lives before we found each other. But if there is one thing I know amongst all this confusion, it’s that you will always be my brother.”
“I can’t call you Caterina. I mean no disrespect to your parents or the life you had with them. But that’s not who you are to me.”
She took a moment to process the maelstrom of feelings inside. She couldn’t change the past. Nor could she predict the future, but she had power over the present.
