My Rogue to Ruin, page 18
He slanted his mouth over hers.
When he pulled her into his lap, Marjorie did not resist. She twisted her spine to press her bosom against him. Dug her fingers into his hair. Met him kiss for kiss and returned for more. Her breasts felt heavy and swollen, the nipples taut with desire. The sensation of them straining against the thin muslin of her bodice, scraping up against the hard expanse of his chest, was almost too exquisite to bear.
As if he sensed her need for release from this delicious torture, Adrian cupped one of his strong hands over her breast. She gasped against his mouth and immediately pressed into his touch. He rewarded her with more kisses. His fingers toyed with her erect nipple, sending scarlet shock waves of desire throughout her body. The cleft between her legs pulsed and swelled with each new caress, as though he were touching her there as well as her breasts and nipples.
She shifted on his thighs, begging him wordlessly to attend to other areas of her body. He obediently lowered his other hand and began gathering up her skirts. Her inner muscles clenched in anticipation, growing slick at the promise of a decadent new sensation.
Which might explain why neither of them heard the workroom door open.
“Why, look what we have here,” Snowley drawled. “Isn’t this a cozy scene?”
Marjorie and Adrian scrambled apart. Or tried to. She was on his lap and her skirts were caught beneath his boots, which resulted in both of them tumbling from the stool in a tangle of limbs and muslin.
Snowley stalked closer. “Is this the reason you wanted an ‘apprentice’ about? So that you could waste my time behind closed doors?”
“I didn’t know her then,” Adrian said. “And you were the one to force an assistant on me against my will.”
“Against your will,” Snowley repeated. “I can see how repulsed you are.”
Adrian hauled himself up and pulled Marjorie to her feet.
“Evidently, you want to keep this chit close. Very well. I shall grant your wish.” Snowley’s smile was cold enough to freeze the sea. “I no longer trust either one of you to leave. Enjoy all the kisses you want on your own time after hours. But from this moment until Mary’s trial month is through, she remains under my roof.”
“No,” Marjorie blurted out. “No, I cannot possibly stay here. You cannot make me—”
“Watch me carefully.” Snowley placed his hand at the small of her back and pointed her toward the door. “Allow me to show you to your new sleeping quarters. From now on, you will either be on your cot or in this workroom. I’ll alert the guards. You shan’t leave my property without my permission.”
25
Adrian stared at the slamming door in horror. If the workroom had felt unbearably empty without Marjorie in it during the long nights before, the knowledge that his actions had caused her to be stuck within Snowley’s lair filled him with guilt and rising panic.
Marjorie didn’t belong here. She could barely survive twelve hours without her siblings, much less weeks on end.
Oh God, her siblings! They were going to kill him. And he would deserve their wrath. But Adrian would trade his life for rescuing Marjorie’s. Was there some way the Wynchesters might help? Could he get a message to them?
He raced over to the worktable and flipped open the lid to Marjorie’s basket.
Bread. Cheese. Fruit. A gingham blanket. The empty canvas bag she’d brought today’s extra metal shavings in. A smear of lilac paint.
No hedgehog.
Not that Tickletums was much of a messenger anyway. He’d managed to return to his owner when Jacob was waiting right around the corner, but Adrian didn’t know if the hedgehog could travel farther distances than that, or convey important messages.
What Adrian needed was Piffle.
He dashed to the open window and peered outside. Crows were scattered throughout the rookery, perched atop this clothes wire or that broken wall. How was he to know which crow was the crow? Was Piffle even here? Could Adrian summon him?
He leaned against the windowsill and cupped his hands around his mouth. “Ca-caw, ca-caw!”
Nothing.
Well, not entirely nothing. At Adrian’s noise, the visible crows flew away.
“Piffle!” he called. “Here, boy! Come at once!”
The workroom door opened.
Adrian spun around. “You’re back!”
It wasn’t Marjorie. It was Joey Box o’ Crumpets, wearing a loaded pistol and an annoyed expression.
“What’s the meaning of this racket, Webb? There’s no screaming for help. None is coming. And if you don’t shut your bone-box, I’m authorized to shut it for you.”
Adrian ignored this and rushed into the corridor. “Where’s Mary?”
Joey grabbed Adrian’s arm, stopping him in his tracks. The cold tip of a pistol pressed into his side.
“No running, either,” Joey snarled. He used his pistol to gesture at one of the doors. “Your skirt’s in there, taking a talking-to from Snowley. I’m not interrupting the big man, and neither are you.”
In any other circumstance, Adrian would have pointed out that “big man” was a bit of a stretch. Snowley was barely larger than Marjorie herself. Adrian had boots that were almost as tall as each of them. But this was not the moment to let his mouth cause worse trouble.
“When is she coming back?” Did he sound desperate? He tried to hide it. But how else was he supposed to feel with Marjorie alone in a room with Snowley?
Joey shrugged. “S’pose she’ll be back when he’s done with her.”
Yes. Yes, that made Adrian feel not one whit better. This was a disaster.
“Best not be dangling about when Snowley opens the door, lest he think you prying into his affairs, Webb,” Grinders called out.
“It would give me a good excuse to shoot him,” Joey said.
“Boss repeated himself three times,” Grinders replied, the hatpin between his teeth bobbing. “‘Shoot to maim, not to kill. This one’s worth money.’”
Joey swung his pistol toward Adrian’s trousers. “I think I can find a body part he won’t need.”
Adrian lifted his palms. “You know what? I’ll go counterfeit a few coins whilst I wait.”
“That’s a good idea.”
Adrian backed into the workroom and shut the door. Alone, he sagged against the doorjamb and rubbed his hands over his face in the hope of inspiration.
None came.
He just wasn’t creative, damn it. Not when it counted. He could make love in a hundred different positions, but he could not think of a single move to rescue Marjorie from this trouble.
His gaze fell on the open window. He could make a run for Bow Street, he supposed, but the guard on the roof would shoot to maim before Adrian reached the street.
He leaned his head back against the door. Perhaps he ought to be molding coins, but Adrian could not bring himself to act in service to Snowley. Not while the blackguard had Marjorie.
Long minutes later, muted voices sounded in the corridor. Adrian pressed his ear to the door. He couldn’t make out the words, but the tones belonged to Joey, Grinders… and Snowley.
Silence fell again.
All right. Snowley was gone. Marjorie should be back at any moment.
Adrian edged over against the wall so that he wasn’t blocking the entrance. He wanted nothing to delay her return.
No more voices. No sign of Marjorie.
He swung his gaze to the clock. The minute hand seemed to take an hour to snick forward. And then another hour for the next minute to pass. And the third.
By the time forty-five minutes had crawled by, Adrian was well and truly losing his mind. Where was Marjorie? What the devil had Snowley done to her? Was she locked in that chamber? Or left physically incapable of leaving it? His belly churned with bile.
This was all his fault. Making a hash of Adrian’s own life was one thing. He had never meant to ruin hers along the way.
“I knew you being here was a bad idea,” he mumbled.
Seventy-five minutes.
Ninety.
God help him, Adrian couldn’t take it anymore. This was his debacle, and it was his responsibility to put it to rights.
If that was even possible.
He couldn’t escape, which meant he had no idea how he was meant to get Marjorie to safety. But he had to try. No matter what.
“Let them shoot me,” he muttered, and opened the door.
26
Adrian burst into the corridor.
He would stop at nothing to defend and protect the woman who not only saw him as he really was but believed in who he could be. He would be the hero. For her.
If they wanted Marjorie, the guards would have to go through him. Or bullets would go through him. Or both. So be it.
“Halt!” Joey barked.
Both he and Grinders swung their weapons toward Adrian.
This time, Adrian didn’t put his hands up. He continued down the corridor as if he had every right.
“Where do you think you’re going?” snarled Joey.
“Mary’s room,” Adrian answered.
“How do you expect to enter, when you haven’t a key?” asked Grinders.
“I don’t need a key,” Adrian guessed. “My chamber isn’t locked and I doubt hers is, either.”
Grinders snorted. “She didn’t request your company.”
That stung, but didn’t mean anything. Perhaps Marjorie couldn’t ask for help. Joey had prevented Adrian from trying to summon Piffle. Marjorie was unlikely to fare any better.
But it did give Adrian an idea. After all, Snowley hadn’t forbidden their romance. His exact words were, Enjoy all the kisses you want on your own time. There was no better time for a private moment than right now.
“I don’t have to press my attentions on beautiful women,” he informed the guards, and struck an obnoxiously rakish pose. “They beg for it. And I live to deliver.”
“No fornication amongst the staff,” Joey drawled. “Snowley’s rules.”
“We’re not staff,” Adrian assured him. “I’m not being paid. Mary and I are prisoners, not employees. And prisoners have the freedom to do as they please.”
Joey frowned. “He’s right. No such rule amongst prisoners.”
Grinders lowered his weapon. “You and Mary…”
Adrian nodded and tossed each of the guards a new coin. “Snowley already knows about Mary and me. He’s doing everything he can to ensure we spend more time under the same roof, not less. Which means, Mary is under his protection and mine.”
Joey and Grinders pocketed their coins.
“What do you think?” Grinders said. “We let the poor bastard spend a moment with his little morsel?”
Joey motioned Adrian toward Marjorie’s door. “Half an hour, Webb. Make it count. Mary’s supposed to return to the workroom to keep making coins.”
“Thirty minutes,” Adrian repeated dutifully. “We’ll be out in twenty-nine.”
“All right, then. Go and tup your bit o’ muslin. Then drag her arse back to work. After that, no leaving the workroom until you’ve met your quota. You owe us a little extra to make up for this largesse.”
“With pleasure.” Adrian swaggered forward, waggling his brows as lasciviously as possible. As soon as he reached Marjorie’s room, he flung open the door, threw himself inside, and shut the door behind him.
Her room was just as low and confining as Adrian’s piteous bedchamber. Barely enough room for a cot, a stool, and a skinny table.
And yet, Marjorie was not alone.
She sat cross-legged atop the mattress, casually chatting with a plump white woman holding a drawn sword in one hand and a cup of tea in the other.
A dapper and unarmed Black man leaned one well-tailored hip against a narrow window.
At his feet, inexplicably, stood a fluffy white sheep.
Marjorie smiled. “Oh, Adrian. I was wondering when you’d get here.”
He stared at her, gobsmacked.
She leaned over the cot toward the thin rickety table and produced a cup and saucer. “Would you like some tea?”
Adrian was still trying to process the information that Marjorie was not in danger, and all appeared to be well. “Did you just say… would I like some tea?”
“No one thought to bring coffee,” she said apologetically. “The kettle is fresh from the fireplace. But if you want milk, you’ll have to get it from Miss Ophelia yourself.”
The sheep gave a faint baa.
Adrian eyed Ophelia warily. He would not be adding milk to his tea. “How in all that is holy…?”
“We’re Wynchesters,” the handsome Black man said, as if that explained it.
Maybe it did.
“Introductions, please,” said the woman with the sword.
“Of course, how rude of me.” Marjorie set down her cup and saucer. “Adrian, this is my brother Jacob and my sister Elizabeth. Family, this is Lord Adrian. Oh, and you’ve met Ophelia.”
There was no possibility that three such different-looking people were full-blooded siblings… but then again, a few seconds ago, Adrian would have sworn there was no possibility of someone being on the other side of the wall taking tea with a sheep.
“Wynchesters,” he repeated. “How did you know to come?”
Jacob pulled the tip of a tiny scroll out of his breast pocket. “Marjorie sent for us.”
Piffle, that traitor. Adrian had tried to summon him.
“I was going to rescue her,” he informed Marjorie’s siblings. “I was… regrettably delayed.”
Elizabeth stared at Adrian blankly. “Rescue her?”
“Oh, that’s so sweet,” Marjorie assured him with an indulgent smile.
Adrian didn’t feel sweet. He felt superfluous. The crew of actual heroes was here on the case.
He was just… Adrian.
“I think you have it backward,” Elizabeth informed him. “Marjorie is here to rescue you.”
Ophelia sneezed. It sounded like judgment, too.
Marjorie cleared her throat. “He’s asked me not to. He doesn’t want to be a client. In any case, I call this meeting to order.”
“Meeting?” Adrian repeated. “Meeting for what?” He sat on a wooden stool Jacob passed his way.
“For stratagems,” Marjorie explained. She leaned over the edge of the cot to fiddle with the tea, then handed Adrian a cup and saucer.
“Thank you.” He settled as far as possible from the sheep and tried to pretend this wasn’t the most peculiar moment of his entire life.
“For now,” said Marjorie, “all that we have is…”
She immediately set off into a mind-boggling recitation of facts. There were documents, letters, contracts. Maps and sketches. Even an interview with a rare prior servant who left Snowley’s employ and managed not to disappear immediately after.
“The first wrinkle,” she continued, “is that for as long as I’m stuck here, I cannot smuggle jewelry home every night.”
“Not a problem,” Jacob assured her. “I’ll send Hippogriff.”
“The hawk?” Elizabeth asked.
Jacob nodded. “She can carry more contraband than Piffle.”
“If you can just pop in wherever you please,” Adrian interrupted, “then why not pick up the pieces yourselves?”
“We were almost caught,” Elizabeth admitted. “We made it in, but I’m not sure how we’ll get out undetected. We can’t risk human intervention a second time.”
“I’m not certain the sheep is helping this time,” Adrian murmured.
“Plus,” Marjorie continued, “there’s the matter of my art lessons. Faircliffe might forgive me if I disappear for a fortnight, but my students are counting on their Sunday-afternoon creative respite.”
Jacob glanced up from the sheep. “Perhaps Faircliffe could tutor them in your absence.”
Elizabeth made a face. “That’s no substitute. Anything Faircliffe can paint, Marjorie can paint better.”
“But is our sister a duke?” Jacob countered. “Marjorie will have provided not only professional instruction, but also an introduction to a potential future noble patron. The girls’ families will be overjoyed.”
“True,” Marjorie mused. “Ask him if he minds.”
But she didn’t look happy.
“You don’t think it will work?” Adrian asked.
“It’ll work,” she said with a sigh. “I’ll just miss the girls so much. I adore our lessons. Oh, who am I bamming? I shall miss everything more than words can say. Meals with my family. Nights in my own bed.”
Adrian’s stomach twisted in sympathy. Marjorie hadn’t said her current situation was his fault… but none of them would be taking tea with a sheep if Adrian hadn’t forged his way into this mess.
“Then let’s get you out of here.” He set his cup and saucer on the floor.
Ophelia immediately ducked her head to lick from the cup.
Adrian gave up on tea and nudged the saucer over to the sheep.
“The problem isn’t Marjorie being confined to Snowley’s residence,” said Jacob. “The problem is Snowley. How do we stop him?”
“Well…” Elizabeth toyed with her sword.
“No poking holes,” Marjorie said quickly.
“I wasn’t going to!” her sister protested with too much innocence. “I was thinking, why not use Marjorie’s long and storied experience with forgery?”
Adrian glanced at her with interest. “Vases? Tiaras? Statues?”
“My skill is with paper, not sculpture,” she reminded him. “Which means I can reproduce virtually any drawn or painted art, including handwriting.”
“Then forgery is what we’ll do,” said Jacob. “Once we have a plan to extricate Lady Iris from danger, we shall mount a mission to take the rest of the treasures all at once. All Wynchesters on deck, no holds barred.”
“They’ll see you coming,” Adrian pointed out.
“I’m depending on it,” she answered with a smile. “Every good escapade needs a suitable distraction in order to succeed.”
“One problem,” Jacob said. “We need the ring to replicate his mark.”
Marjorie’s smile fell. “You’re right.”
