The Solemn Bell(54)

“It’s not a game to me.” Her voice was very near. “It’s my life, and it’s terrifying.”

He turned, and knocked straight into her. Brody caught her before they both fell over. “I couldn’t imagine.”

No, he could not imagine waiting for all those years for her family, hoping they would come for her. That he would come for her. Brody understood why she’d done what she had—in his weakness, he reached for the morphine. For anything to make the next day, the next hour bearable. In her weakness, she had reached out for a man.

Not so very awful, surely.

He knew as well as anybody that the darkness could be a frightening and lonely place.

God, if his father would accept Angelica into the family, Brody would have gone down on one knee then and there. But he loved her too much to condemn them both to a life of poverty. Monday, he would go into the office with Marcus and humbly beg their father for a job. When the old man saw how devoted he was to Angelica, and how dedicated he was to his clean and sober life, Father would come ‘round to the idea. Brody simply had to be patient.

Patience was a large part of an addict’s problem. He knew all too well that he wanted what he wanted, and hated having to wait for it. Brody struggled with that mindset, even now that he’d given up drink and drugs. Waiting was difficult. Working for something was unpleasant. Life would be so much better if he could simply get his way.

He’d impulsively fallen in love with Angelica, trading his addiction to morphine for his addiction to her. That had not worked out quite like he’d wanted—she hadn’t conformed to his ideas of chastity, or his dreams of her all-consuming love. She’d shown him that she too was an imperfect person, and that he hadn’t really known her after only one night together. Instead, Angelica had forced him to fall in love with her all over again. Now, he knew her.

Because of his patience, his love for her was stronger.

Because of his patience, her love for him was stronger.

If he could only be patient for a little while longer, their future would be so much better.

They needed to leave this enchanted garden before he made a hasty decision they would both regret. “We’ve got a long way to go. Knowing Cynthia and Peter, there will be an hour wait for the shower-bath, and Mother will kill us if we’re late for dinner.”

Angelica slipped her arm through his. “Oh, please, let’s not rush.”

It was such a perfect afternoon. Come to think of it, Brody was in no hurry to get back to the house. Moments like this made him wonder why he ever bothered returning home at all.





CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT





“If you hurry now, Miss,” Bessie said, pulling her toward the door, “the bath is free.”

Angelica wore a high-collared dressing gown over her silk combinations. Although covered from throat to toes, she felt odd and uncomfortable walking the halls in little more than her underclothes. But, that’s how it was done in houses with more occupants than bathrooms. Captain Neill had not lied when he’d said there would be a queue for the tub.

She was beginning to learn her way around the house. Angelica no longer needed an escort to and from the toilet, but the faithful maid led the way, carrying her sea-sponge, soap, and shampoo, as well as towels. It felt nice to be fussed over. She liked having the girl around to bathe, dress, and look after her.

The corridor outside Angelica’s bedroom was twenty paces long. The bathroom sat exactly in the middle, on the right side. She counted the length as she walked, and then reached for the door. As soon as her fingers touched the knob, it jerked from her grasp.

Angelica stumbled forward into the space. For a moment, she was disoriented by the blast of warm, steaming air, and an overwhelming scent of shaving lotion. A man’s hands grabbed her shoulders, steadying her.

He laughed. Angelica’s blood went cold.

Peter Lawton held her firmly in his grip. “Why, Miss Grey. How clumsy of me.” His fingertips dug into the padded sleeve of her dressing gown. “Did you enjoy your stroll with Brody? I say, he’s turned into quite the gentleman! One would almost think him in love with you.”

“Is that so impossible?” she asked, trying to wrench herself free of his grasp.

“Oh, I don’t know. Certainly makes a chap wonder… You put up such a fight, yet I’m sure you’re no blushing virgin. Knowing Brody, that’s not his style at all—he’s rather depraved. I can’t count the times I’ve seen the poor chap with a needle in his arm and a whore’s finger up his arse.” He laughed, cruelly. “Tell me, Miss Grey, what do you think of your tender protector now?”

He’d tried to shock her. If she hadn’t already been intimate with Captain Neill, Mr. Lawton’s words might have scared her, but Angelica didn’t blink. She knew enough about sex and pleasure not to be deterred. Besides, it was none of her business what Captain Neill had done in the past. Only his future concerned her.

“Do you think by putting him down, it will make me want you?”

Peter Lawton pinned her to the back of the door, idly toying with the sash of her dressing gown. “I see the way Brody looks at you. Judging from your lack of response to my news, I know he’s already had you. He wasn’t even your first, was he? Not by a long shot.”

The man tugged open her dressing gown, letting the heavy fabric hang from her shoulders. Angelica stiffened. She expected him to fight her, to hurt her—like Mother said men would. Instead, he pressed his lips to her throat in an almost reverent kiss. While he worshipped her neck, his hands roamed her body, cupping her backside, and squeezing her breasts through the soft silk of her combinations.