Someone to Watch Over Me (Bow Street Runners #1)(81)

"More," she said with a gasp, wanting him to press deeper, harder, but he was exquisitely controlled, moving at a leisurely pace that made her writhe desperately.

Grant whispered for her to be patient, to relax beneath him, but she was too much a novice to govern her own responses. Trembling, sweating, she arched upward repeatedly, pulling and clutching at him until he finally relented with a breathless laugh. Obeying her silent demand, he fused their h*ps together in a tight, deeply satisfying grinding motion that shot pleasure through her like a bolt of lightning. She folded herself around him and purred as sweet release streaked and spread through her, until every inch of her glowed with delight.

"Well," Grant said a few minutes later, his voice muffled between her soft br**sts, "that should give you something to think about."

Unable to repress a smile, Victoria circled her arms around his head and pressed a kiss amid the thick black locks. "Hurry," she murmured. "You're going to be late to work...and I should hate for you to have to explain why."

"They won't have to ask," he returned, not moving. "I have the most beautiful woman in England in my bed...Something would be wrong if Iweren't late."

As it happened, Grant arrived at Cannon's office only a few minutes later than usual. He took care to conceal the signs of his good mood as he saw the surly gleam in Cannon's gray eyes. As always, the magistrate's expression was composed, but Grant sensed the welter of thoughts and worries that seethed beneath his facade. No doubt Bow Street was under siege from the press, the public, and the government.

Grant knew that he himself would look nearly as careworn as Cannon had it not been for the night of pleasure in Victoria's arms. It was on the tip of his tongue to suggest that the magistrate find a woman for himself. However, Grant wasn't about to stick his nose in someone else's business...especially of a man who was notoriously protective of his privacy.

After asking after Victoria's welfare, Cannon informed Grant that Keyes was in custody at the strong room, and had given a full confession in the presence of Cannon and a clerk. Grant was not surprised by the news, knowing that Cannon could wring a confession from a hearthstone. Keyes would be charged and tried, and all that Cannon would require of Victoria Devane was that she appear in his chambers before the second session that day and have a clerk take down her deposition. The matter was going to be handled as efficiently and quietly as possible, in an attempt not to excite the public any further.

"Victoria won't have to face Keyes in court, then," Grant said, having arrived this morning with an argument already prepared. He would go to hell and back before allowing Victoria to be in the same room with Keyes.

"No, there is no need to put Miss Devane through yet another ordeal," Cannon replied. "Her testimony in chambers, as well as Keyes's own confession, will be sufficient to have him indicted and bound for trial before the King's Bench."

"What of Lord Lane?" Grant asked. "Is he to be arrested this morning? If so, I'll gladly volunteer for the task."

The magistrate paused in the act of lifting a coffee mug to his lips and stared at him with a flicker of surprise. "You haven't heard, then. Lord Lane is dead."

Grant shook his head slightly, not certain he had heard correctly. "What did you say?"

"It seems he suffered an attack of apoplexy last evening, just after your departure from Boodle's."

Grant stroked his shaven chin for a moment, struggling with a mixture of emotions. On one hand, he was glad that the old bastard had finally gone to meet his Maker. On the other hand, he was distinctly sorry that Lord Lane had managed to escape the discomfort and humiliation of being indicted, tried, and punished. "Good," he finally said grimly. "I only wish I'd been able to stay at Boodles long enough to enjoy the show."

The magistrate frowned at the callous comment. "The sentiment is beneath you, Morgan, though I understand its source."

Grant did not respond to the quiet rebuke. He was not sorry in the least for what he had said. In his opinion, Lord Lane's death had been far too merciful, much better than he had deserved. However, something else troubled him, and it would have to be addressed before any plans for his own future could be discussed. "I don't have your dispassionate nature, sir...though God knows I wish I did."

"Well, dispassionate or not, I have an offer for you. One I hope you'll consider carefully."

"What kind of offer?"

"Well...it pertains to the fact that I've just accepted commissions to serve as justice for Essex, Kent, Herfordshire, and Surrey, in addition to the ones I already hold."

Grant threw him a glance of surprise and let out a low, appreciative whistle. The new appointments would extend Cannon's reach considerably. He had been doing the work of two men so far. Now he would be doing the work of six. So far as Grant knew, no police magistrate had ever been granted such authority.

"The public uproar is only just beginning," Cannon continued dryly. "The general consensus will be that I'm power-mad and reaching far beyond my rightful jurisdiction. And perhaps I am. It's only that I can't see another way to deal with crime, other than to regard it as a war that must be waged insideand outside London."

"Then your critics can go hang themselves," Grant commented.

"If only they would," Cannon agreed ruefully.