Scandalous Desires (Maiden Lane #3)(92)

“I’ll be back by luncheon tomorrow, m’love,” he murmured and bent to kiss her mouth.

She summoned a smile, the hardest thing she’d ever done in her life, but she didn’t want him to remember her sad with grief.

He frowned. “Are ye all right?”

She raised her brows, saying lightly, “Your lovemaking can be quite devastating.”

He grinned and she stared at him greedily, trying to memorize the sight.

“I’ll wear yer scent on me body tonight,” he said wickedly. “And every time I smell it I’ll know yer waitin’ here for me.”

He turned then and left the room, his stride brisk.

Silence lay there, feeling the seep of his semen from her body, and counted to one hundred.

Then she got up and washed quickly. She dressed in the plain brown gown she’d had on when he’d come for her at Caire House—so long ago it seemed now. There was very little to gather—the Spanish dagger and some things of Mary’s. She hesitated over the little book with the courageous sailors, but in the end she took that, as well. He’d meant it for Mary, after all.

She made one quick trip to Michael’s room and then opened the door to the corridor—and found Harry dozing in a chair. She’d only taken one step when his eyelids rose.

“Goin’ for a midnight stroll, are ye?” he asked amiably, but she wasn’t fooled. Harry was eyeing the small bag she carried her things in.

She squared her shoulders. “I’m going home, Harry.”

THE DAWN WAS just breaking when Mick rode up the lane to Windward House, weary in both mind and body. He’d found a ship for Bran easily enough—bound for the West Indies, a long voyage. The boy had said never a word to him all the long way to London. He’d seemed beaten in both mind and body and Mick hadn’t the heart to try and talk to him.

Putting Bran on that ship had been the last thing that had gone simply. Through bribery, guile, and sheer ruthlessness Mick had been able to enter the Vicar’s house—only to find Charlie Grady gone. Either the man had been warned or his damned luck had held out. Mick had been forced to slink away and hope for another opportunity to strike. So it was with a sense of welcome relief that he caught sight of the house.

He pulled his nag to a halt and sat just looking at it a moment. The early sun made the brick glow pinkish-orange. The green shoots around the foundation had lengthened and grown yellow buds. Soon the daffodils would bloom. Mick smiled tiredly. How he looked forward to showing Mary Darling the pretty flowers when they bloomed. He and the baby would pick a posy for Silence and present it to her and then the three of them would sit down to luncheon or tea or some other meal and he would listen as Silence chided him about his food being too rich while he tempted her with some exotic dainty.

God, it was good to be home.

Mick rode around the back and impatiently threw the reins to a sleepy groom. He went in through the kitchens, waving to Bittner and Mrs. Bittner, enjoying their morning tea. Lad, who’d been dozing by the hearth, stood and wagged his tail.

“Sir—” Bittner called as Mick strode past, but Mick didn’t stop.

He took the stairs two at a time and then paused at the top. Where was Harry? Damn it, if Harry or Bert were sleeping, he’d dock them their portion of the next haul.

Mick burst into Silence’s bedroom in a rush, only to pull up short when he saw that the bed was empty. He went through the connecting door to find that his room was empty as well. Only a pair of stockings were laid neatly on his pillow.

Mick stood a moment, staring at the stockings, an awful foreboding crawling up his spine. Slowly he picked them up. They were of different sizes, the heel of one completely wrong. He recognized them as the stockings Silence had knit in the carriage all the way from her sister’s house. They hadn’t been done when they’d arrived at Windward House, but now they obviously were, folded neatly as if they were a present.

For a moment Mick held the ugly stockings in his hand, his mind blank. With an effort he made his legs move, climbed up the stairs to the next floor, and checked the nursery.

A maid slept in the bed next to Mary’s empty cot.

Mick shook her awake roughly. “Where are they?”

The girl rubbed her eyes. “They went away in the night wi’ Mr. Harry and Mr. Bert, sir.”

But Mick was already turning away, dazed, disbelieving.

She’d left him. Silence had left him and taken Mary Darling with her.

Chapter Seventeen

Well now Clever John had everything he’d ever wished for: a large and prosperous kingdom, an invincible army to defend his lands, and a treasure chest that never could be emptied. He was awash in wealth and good fortune. Kings and princes sent their daughters, seeking a match with the powerful King Clever John. But no matter how lovely the princess, Clever John merely turned his head aside, his gaze searching the skies for the glimpse of a rainbow wing….

—from Clever John

Caire House in London was even more opulent than Lord Caire’s country estate. A week later Silence sat in one of the “lesser” sitting rooms in the fashionable town house, almost too afraid to move. All around her were elegant furnishings, fragile bric-a-brac, and plush carpets and drapes. Actually, she thought with a pang, the richness of the rooms reminded her a bit of Michael’s palace.

Except everything was terribly tasteful here.