A Kiss of Lies (29 page)

At the first lick of his clever tongue, her hands bunched into fists in the bedclothes. She looked down and lost herself in the exotic sight of Christian, his dark hair teasing her thighs, his head bent between her legs, leading her on the tumultuous, wicked, and glorious journey toward pleasure.

And what pleasure! He knew exactly what she liked, desired, and needed. The rapture as his tongue began to tease and stimulate her in just the right spot … with just the right pressure …

She moaned into the room, the sound of him lapping intimately adding to her urgent passion. She wished she could hold off, playing out the intense feelings he awoke in her, but too soon she gasped and began to tremble in unbridled ecstasy, her climax a vivid burst of colors behind her closed eyes. She was barely aware that she had clenched her fingers tightly in his hair as she lay shaking from her release.

She opened her eyes to see him leaning over her, his eyes molten and hot with his own need. She opened her thighs wider. “I need you inside me, now,” she whispered against his lips.

His response was a husky plea. “God, I couldn’t think of any other place I’d rather be.”

Christian moved over her and thrust into her still quaking body—heavenly! He’d just started stroking deep within her when raised voices and a loud pounding could be heard coming from down the hall. It sounded as if people were seeking him, urgently knocking on his bedchamber door.

He groaned. “Christ, not now.”

“Who would be here at this hour?” She grabbed his arms and felt herself grow as cold and brittle as hailstones. “Perhaps someone’s found out about me.”

Christian sighed and withdrew from her body. Rolling off the bed, he stood for a moment as if to gather himself, then donned a robe and moved to the door. He opened it a smidgen and peered out. Pulling his head back inside the room, he looked over his shoulder at her and smiled reassuringly. “Stay here. I’ll be back soon.” Before she could protest he slipped out and the door closed ominously behind him.

She heard male voices in the corridor and someone enter his chamber.

She hurriedly rose and grabbed her own robe. Walking to the window, she felt the claws of despair lengthen, ready to strike. She carefully pulled back a drape to sneak a look at the street below. What she saw there made her heart rise into her throat and her legs turn to jelly. It was the Bow Street Runners.

Had she run out of time? Serena slowly turned and began to dress. An eerie calmness settled over her as she realized at last she would no longer have to hide. One way or another, this terrible journey would end. Tears filled her eyes. Now that she’d met Christian, there was only
one way she prayed it would end. She wanted a life with Christian. She touched her belly. Even now she might have created his child—their child. They wouldn’t hang her until after the baby was born, surely. The thought of never seeing her child grow up, never seeing the man or woman that child would become, was, in her view, too great a punishment for her crime.

Once she’d finished dressing, she sat by the unlit fire and waited. The cold invading her soul had nothing to do with the lack of heating. Her day of reckoning had arrived.

It felt like eternity before Serena heard a commotion at the front door positioned below her window. She rushed to the window just in time to see Christian’s massive shoulders disappear inside the carriage parked below. Where was he going?

She watched the carriage draw away and silence descended over the house. She stood at the window, biting her lip, watching until they turned the corner. The sun had risen, but its warmth through the glass did not thaw her.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door. She crossed the room and opened the door to find Roberts standing on the other side, looking his usual calm self. He passed her a note. “His lordship asked me to deliver this with a message to say he won’t be detained for long.”

“Detained?”

“That is all I know, my lady.”

So even Roberts had learned of her true identity.

“Miss Pearson is already in the breakfast room. She was asking after you.”

Serena itched to read the note. “Tell Lily I’ll be down shortly.”

“As you wish, madam.” He turned and walked back down the corridor.

She closed the door and leaned against it. She looked at the note she held in her hand and knew that what she would read in it would determine her next move: stay and fight, or flee. She moved to the bed and sank down on its edge. With shaking fingers, she broke the seal and briefly closed her eyes before forcing herself to read.

Harriet’s rape? Last night? What was the incident that had anything to do with Christian? She kept on reading.

Concern for Christian was tempered with relief. She could stay. She stood and smoothed out her skirt, and her thoughts turned to Lily. She was here to do a job and she should do it. She tucked the note into her bodice and made her way downstairs.

The day had flown by. She’d taught Lily basic French in the morning and, for light relief, some music. Like her art, Lily had an ear for music, but not a memorable voice. She would become quite an accomplished piano player, but not a singer. After lunch, Lily wanted to go for a walk. Serena didn’t dare step out in public, so she used the excuse that she didn’t know the area and they’d wait for Christian. Instead, they’d spent time in the garden, and Serena amused Lily with some of her favorite Greek myths.

It was only when the two of them had partaken of an early dinner and Lily was getting ready for bed that Serena began to worry. Where was he?

Later, she was ensconced in the library, trying to read, but her nerves were fraught and she couldn’t keep her leg from jiggling in anxiety. She was too scared to ask Roberts if he had had any news. His most recent reply of “No news, not since the last time you asked, five minutes ago” was as rude and as pointed as Roberts could allow himself without impertinence.

She looked at the clock on the mantel. Seven-thirty. Her bottom lip stung, chewed raw from worry. What else could she do but sit as patiently as possible and wait?

Finally she heard the front door and someone being admitted. Serena forgot all decorum and bolted from the room into the hall, only to barrel into a solid muscled chest that didn’t feel familiar. Strange hands gripped her arms to stop her from falling.

It was Lord Fullerton.

“Where’s Christian?”

Lord Fullerton looked over his shoulder. “Perhaps I could talk with you in the library?”
He nodded toward the room she’d just vacated.

She let go of his forearms and silently reentered the room. He indicated for her to take a seat, but she couldn’t sit. Instead, she paced in front of the fire.

“Christian’s been detained by the magistrate on suspicion of the rape and murder of Susan Potts, a laundry maid connected with the opera house.”

Serena stopped her pathetic pacing, all her breath leaving her body in shock. Murder? She vehemently shook her head, talking to no one in particular. “No. Christian could never hurt any woman.”

“I concur. Plus I know he’s innocent. He left the opera early to return to you, and the murder happened at three o’clock this morning. He has an alibi.”

She flopped down into the nearest chair. “Thank God. Then why has he been arrested?”

“He’s been set up, just as the rape of Harriet was a setup.”

“Why? Why are they fixated on discrediting and ruining him? What can I do?”

Hadley took the chair opposite and rubbed a hand over his face. “You’re not going to like it.” He dropped his hand to the arm of the chair and looked closely at her. Serena’s stomach clenched. “His alibi is you, but he refuses to let you come forward. He won’t jeopardize your safety. If he does, the magistrate will want to question you and your real identity might be revealed.”

Her eyebrow rose. “But it might not. What else are you not telling me?”

He sighed and looked away. “Even if you do come forward as Mrs. Sarah Cooper, being a rich man’s mistress might not be enough to sway them. In all likelihood, they will still force Christian to go to trial, and then your identity would be revealed.”

“Why would they not believe me?”

“If the magistrate believes you are Mrs. Sarah Cooper, he may well think you want Christian released for the money and position he affords you.”

The sudden clarity was blinding. They’d view her as a fallen woman. Instantly she knew what she had to do. “But if I go to the magistrate as Lady Serena Castleton, he’d believe me then, wouldn’t he?” She clutched her hands tightly in her lap. “Or he’d have no choice but to believe me, once my father’s name is mentioned.”

Hadley smiled. “I knew you’d understand. Christian won’t be happy about this. He doesn’t want you in danger.”

She swallowed back her fear. “I don’t want to be in danger either, but if I want to be with Christian for the rest of my life, at some point I’m going to have to come forward. It may as well be now, when I can do some good.” She rose on steady legs. This was the right thing to do for all of them. “Can you acquire an appropriate gown in order for Lady Serena Castleton to look her best? I might need a maid to set my hair. There is no one better to intimidate a magistrate than an angry and insulted duke’s daughter.”

He took both her hands in his and pressed them to his lips. “Thank you. I will do all I can to protect you, as will Christian. I knew what your husband was like, as did most of the ton. That will definitely help your cause. Most will believe that you had to kill him, and it would have been in self-defense.” He ignored her welling tears and added, “Come, I’ve organized Marisa Hawkestone, Sebastian’s sister, to help us. She’s waiting nearby with her maid.”

It was close to ten o’clock at night by the time Lady Serena Castleton managed to gain an audience with Mr. Simpson, the magistrate. Christian had been held the whole day. They had to summon Simpson from his home, and he was not well pleased.

The magistrate’s office was small, crowded, and very stuffy, yet Serena’s poise was magnificent. Her regal manner and haughty air saw the magistrate shrink in stature before their eyes. Christian had never been more proud.

Taking the only seat in the room, she spoke. “I demand to know on what charge you are holding Lord Markham.”

Simpson looked uncomfortably around at the men crowding the room. There stood John Farnham, Hadley, and Christian. The magistrate had no idea how to delicately answer her question. “My lady, it is a matter best left to men.”

“I see.” Her tone clearly indicated that she did not. “Lord Markham is a special friend of mine. I have been informed that he is being held on very serious charges relating to a crime perpetrated last night.”

Simpson looked once again at the men in the room and cleared his throat. “That is correct, my lady.”

She stood and waved her hand at Simpson. “Well then, release him you, you foolish man. He was with me last night, so it would have been impossible for him to commit any offense.”

Simpson’s face colored further. “With you, my lady?”

Looking down her nose, she sighed. “Are you questioning my word?”

Simpson looked as if he’d like the floor to open and swallow him. “Absolutely not, your ladyship. It’s just … well, I don’t think you understand the timing of the incident. It was around three in the morning and a man fitting Lord Markham’s description was seen fleeing the scene.”

“I understand the timing completely. I, unlike you it seems, am not stupid. It is as I have stated. Lord Markham,
Christian
, was with me.”

Christian tried to hide his smile as the implications of her statement began to dawn on Simpson.

“I see you understand the delicate nature of this situation. I could not keep quiet and see an innocent man charged. I am counting on your discretion. I’m sure you wouldn’t like to have to explain to my father, the Duke of Hastings, how his daughter’s name became fodder for society gossip.”

Simpson at last had grasped the situation. “Of course, Lady Serena. I will be the soul of discretion. If Lord Markham was with you, my lady, then that is adequate proof of his innocence. However, just one question: from what time last evening was Lord Markham with you?”

“From around eleven-thirty, when he got home from the opera. He left the opera during the interval, so desperate was he to see me.” She turned a seductive smile Christian’s way. “Isn’t that right, darling?”

“I am always desperate to see you, my love. And yes, Simpson, Hadley here has already vouched for my movements at the opera.” Though Simpson did not believe Lord Fullerton, no doubt he would not be so boorish as to refute a lady’s claims.

Hadley smiled smugly while Simpson shuffled papers on his desk. “It would seem I owe you an apology. But you must understand that I needed to thoroughly investigate such a serious crime, given what Mr. Farnham divulged in connection with the Penfold girl.”

Christian nodded. “And I hope you continue to investigate this crime as well as the Penfold rape, as it is obvious that—”

The door to the office flew open and a young lady entered, seemingly in a great deal of distress. “Where is he? I’ve been a coward for too long, and now he’s been allowed to hurt another woman. I should have spoken out before, no matter what the cost was to my reputation.”

“Calm down, Harriet. This is not the way to deal with this matter,” said her brother Simon, who tried to enter the crowded office behind her.

It was none other than Harriet Penfold, the Duke of Barforte’s daughter.

“Where is he?” she screeched, eyes wide as she looked around the tiny room, scanning every male face there. “I know he’s here, Simon told me. I want to confront him. Where is Lord Markham?”

With one final sob, she collapsed into her brother’s arms. Serena hurried forward and offered her the only chair. Harriet sat down, utterly defeated. “He’s not here. Fled like the coward he truly is.”