Lady Gone Wicked (Wicked Secrets)(33)

Safe? How laughable. She was never safe with him.

Especially not in Epsom.

Yet she must go. She must. She could not bear to stay away another day. She had to see for herself, witness with her own eyes, that all was well, and that…he was cared for and loved.

Perhaps Nick would divine the truth, perhaps not. More likely, he would turn a blind eye as men had done for centuries, seeing only what he wished to see.

So she did not resist as he led her to his carriage and helped her into it. He drew the curtains closed, lest they be seen together by prying eyes, and settled in across from her, brows furrowed in displeasure.

It would be a long two hours.

Still, she tucked the five-pound note into her reticule with a feeling of almost happiness. Free passage to Epsom meant five more pounds she could give to Jane.

“Your father is generous with pin money,” Nick remarked, watching her.

“If you are trying to make me feel guilty for deceiving my father, you needn’t bother. Yes, he is very generous, but he can easily afford it. I told him I needed five pounds for cloth and thread, to give to the women in the poorhouse so that they might earn some funds by sewing, and he gave it to me. It was only a little lie. The money will go where it is needed most.”

“Five pounds for cloth?” He frowned. “That sum did not seem exorbitant to him? He did not question you?”

“Ah, but that would have required he actually speak to me. It was easier simply to give me what I asked for.”

Nick looked at her. She could do nothing but look back. It was terrible to be in such a small, closed space with him. There was nowhere for their eyes to go but to each other.

“Adelaide,” Nick said gently. “Is he kind to you?”

She smiled, though she felt dangerously close to tears. “Very.”

“But he does not speak to you? That is not kindness.”

“Oh.” She waved her hand dismissively. “Do I not have a roof to shelter me, a warm bed in which to sleep, and plenty of food? My dresses and bonnets are all purchased by him, and they are lovely. Does he not provide me all that a lady requires?”

“Which is no more than any father must do for his daughter.”

“Yes, exactly. He calls me his daughter still, and I am very grateful.”

Nick leaned forward. “But you are his daughter.”

“He needn’t have recognized me as such. When I returned home, unfortunately alive, he could have sent me away again, to a nunnery in France, or to a small cottage in the country somewhere. Daughters are no longer truly daughters when they are—” She paused, then shrugged. “Well, as you say, ruination is dependent on knowledge. I am not quite ruined, then, since the only ones who know are family. I am merely fallen.”

“Fallen,” Nick repeated, as though he had never heard the word before.

The carriage wheels creaked as they turned over the dirt road to Epsom. It sounded sad to her, like a child crying. Despite her very best intentions to the contrary, a tear slipped down her cheek.

He was beside her in an instant, cradling her chin in his large hand so that she was forced to look at him. “You are not fallen, angel. It is only natural to desire closeness, to touch and be touched. There was war and suffering, and we clung to each other.”

But she knew he was wrong. It was not war that had made her wicked. Here and now, there was no urgency of impending death. Yet desire spread through her limbs like molten honey. The heat of his body and the spicy, male scent of his skin was all she required.

“I am a wanton,” she said bleakly.

He groaned. “Don’t tease me, angel.” He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, and she felt him smile against her hair.

“It is you who tease me.” She pulled back to give him a reproachful look. “It is all well and good for an actress or an opera singer, but a lady must be above such matters of the flesh. A man does not want a wanton for a wife.”

He laughed. “Don’t be absurd. A man wants exactly that.”

They stared at each other. Adelaide’s heart was pounding so hard she was sure he could see it beating through her dress. They were so close, she could feel his warm breath gentle against her cheek. She licked her lips nervously. If he kissed her now, she would fully yield to him. He only had to—

“I believe I shall continue our journey outside the carriage,” he said, his voice rough.

He flung open the door of the still-moving carriage and threw himself out of it. Adelaide gaped after him.

Well.





Chapter Twenty-Five


Nick considered himself to be a man of utmost control. He was a patient man, whether in gaining the trust of a potential informant or breaking a spy’s spirit. Desire, rage, love, hatred—these were dangerous emotions that must be tightly tethered.

So it came as something of a surprise to him how willing he was to toss aside a marquessate in exchange for a single kiss. He had as good as promised Adelaide to Montrose, yet somehow he couldn’t rid himself of the urge to claim her for his own.

It was fortunate that his sense of self-preservation had returned, although a very specific part of his anatomy regretted the sudden change in circumstances, having no interest in marquessates and a great deal of interest in kisses.

He shifted uncomfortably.

His driver continued to stare straight ahead. The man’s unflappable nature was the reason Nick had hired him. Other than the briefest glance sideways upon Nick’s unexpected arrival next to him, Thorne gave no indication that the situation was out of the ordinary.