An Affair with Mr. Kennedy (40 page)

“Did you give your husband pleasure in unorthodox ways?”

“I wanted to.” She colored a bit. “But he had a mistress to provide such services.”

Zeno’s eyes darkened. “He informed you of this?”

“Rather emphatically.” Her gaze met his then flicked away. “He informed me a lady did not perform fellatio. That he kept a mistress to perform such services, amongst other duties.”

Zeno snorted. “The man didn’t realize what he had in his own bed.”

She toyed with his chest hair. “It took me months after he died to let go of my resentment.”

He tilted her chin to look him in the eye. “Perhaps I understand why this revelation with Jayne so upset you.” He grimaced. “Not that your history gives me room for excuse. I was wrong not to have told you. But I honestly feel nothing for her.”

Now it was her turn to snort. “Nothing except anger, pain, betrayal, and by your own admittance, arousal.”

“But not in my heart.” His fingers gently plied through the waves of her hair. “Faithful, loyal, devoted—that’s me, Cassandra.”

She squinted at him. “Yes, I do believe you are a constant man.” It took little more than a delicate caress from her fingers to make him groan.

“Come to think of it, I might have a condom packet in my coat.”

Cassie slipped off the bed in search of his overcoat. He smiled at the sight of her naked bottom and nymphlike romp about the room. She pulled a small red leather box tied with a gold cord from the pocket. Heat appeared to travel up her chest and throat, bathing her cheeks in a blush of color.

“I did a bit of shopping on my own yesterday.” He studied her expression carefully as she pulled the cord and opened the hinged jewel case. “Oh, Zak, it’s beautiful.” Her eyes glistened with fear? Joy? There was a nervous tremble in her voice.

He cleared his throat. “Think of it as a token of my esteem. And a promise of partnership should you ever decide to open the doors between our residences … permanently. We could even tear down a wall, if you want.”

She sat down beside him and slipped the ring onto her finger. She held out her hand for him to admire. Zeno kissed each knuckle, including her ring finger. He squinted. “Lovely. Do you like it?”

She kissed the tip of his nose. “A very large diamond, in the most beautiful setting imaginable.”

“Yes, Paris does seem to be the right venue for this sort of thing.”

Cassie snorted a laugh. “And what sort of
thing
is this? Exactly?”

Zeno stared at her. Several moments passed like a millennium. “Marry me—in several years, if you wish.” He propped himself on an elbow. “Whatever feels comfortable. You don’t have to say yes tonight. Perhaps a thrilling ‘maybe’? Or a stimulating ‘let me think about it.’”

Cassie turned her hand side to side and admired the ring. “I cannot imagine anything more arousing than what we just did in bed.”

“As we come to know one another, what we do together intimately will become even better.”

“My heart races at the very thought of better.” She swept back a wild lock of hair to get a better look at a languid, shriveled penis. “And when will Detective Kennedy be …?”

“Spent, for now.” Zeno flopped onto his back. “Do you see what you do to me? I am completely and utterly devoid of utility.” He opened his eye a crack. “Give him a moment.”

Her smile was light, girlish. “So, you want me for life, then?”

“My dear, you are a wanton
fille de joie,
a nymphet of the highest order, and I consider myself the luckiest man in the entire world.”

“I will give you my answer in twenty-two months, then.”

“Twenty-two months?” His stare was comically incredulous. “Why that long?”

Cassie shrugged. “A nice bit longer than a year, but not quite two.”

“Good God. The gestation period of an elephant, if I’m not mistaken.” Without a pause he swept her into his arms. “Ah well, I knew you’d say yes.”

“I haven’t said yes.”

He nuzzled her throat. “Oh, but you will … eventually.”

Chapter Thirty-three

Z
eno stepped into the familiar morning light of the breakfast room. The aroma of warm bread and eggs reaffirmed they were back in London and safely home.

“Top of the morning, Mr. Kennedy. Set yourself down beside your guest and have a wee bit of breakfast.” Mrs. Woolsey piled a mound of egg onto a plate of kippers.

“Good morning, Mrs. Woolsley.” He nodded to Cassie’s brother, who raised a friendly fork in greeting. “Morning, Zak.”

From the platter on the sideboard, he added a ham slice to his plate and poured himself a glass of juice. He picked up the
Times
from the buffet. “Where’s Cassie?” He settled into a chair and opened the paper.

Rob stuffed a forkful of mouthwatering smoked fish into his mouth and still managed an answer. “She ate a bit of toast and ran off to Mother’s.”

“Said she wouldn’t be long, sir.” Alma turned over a cup and poured his coffee. “Back in time for luncheon.”

He frowned. “She left here on her own?”

Rob set down his paper. “I volunteered my escort but she wouldn’t have me.”

Alma brushed against Zeno’s shoulder and set down his toast. “Best that Mrs. St. Cloud resumes her regular goings about, Mr. Kennedy, now that the danger is past.”

His housekeeper meant well. And it was most likely excellent advice. Sooner or later he must let go of these nagging fears about her safety and let his brave and beautiful bird soar above the crowd.

“I can hardly believe you’re back, sir. And with such lovely company, at that.” Alma smiled sweetly at Rob.

Zeno grinned between forkfuls of egg. “I expect you will get used to having this Erskine clan about, Mrs. Wools-ley.”

Aware his housekeeper hovered nearby, he folded his paper over and continued reading.

“I will say, sir, that it was right quiet around here while you were gone. Although I did get a devilish story out of young Bert Daniels, the other day. Works for Mr. Woolsley, he does. Seems he overheard two shifty types in a pub down south of the Tower.”

She fluttered nervously around the table. “What the young man was doing in those dodgy parts, don’t ask me.”

Zeno set down his paper and stared at the woman. “You are obviously beside yourself to tell me, Mrs. Woolsley.”

Alma fidgeted with her apron. “Bert claimed the two blokes, right pissed they were, mentioned Westminster Abbey.”

He bit off a bit of buttered toast. “What about the Abbey?”

“Well, sir, I can’t quite figure a way to put it all together.” She paused, her face twisted up by the riddle. “‘If the sticks don’t blow her to kingdom come, the shots will find their mark, sure enough.’”

Chewing his toast, Zeno registered a moderate uptick in pulse rate as he considered her story. “What day is today?”

“Why, look at your paper, Mr. Kennedy, it’s the twentieth of June, the queen’s fiftieth anniversary—Victoria’s Golden Jubilee.” His housekeeper beamed, glancing at the mantel clock. “The parade starts in little more than an hour, I believe.”

His spine straightened. In his mind’s eye, he was back in Paris, moments before he and Delamere were rescued from what would have been a fatal fall from the tower.
“Case closed, not a window left open? We shall see, Mr. Kennedy.”
An odd message, spoken by a delirious cornered man. Nonetheless, Zeno had pondered Delamere’s cryptic words often enough these last few days. Having taken down their headman, as well as key operatives, the
Clan
would be forced to go to ground—regroup. Seemed logical, indeed necessary, but had they? He eyeballed his soon to be brother-
in-law, who appeared more absorbed in eggs and kippers than the morning news. “Did the
Telegraph
print a map of the parade route?”

Rob opened up and refolded the front page. “Here it is.” He thumped the engraving with his finger and pushed the paper toward Zeno.

He squinted at the engraving. “She crosses over Westminster Bridge, and past a good length of Parliament’s impressive facade, to attend services at Westminster Abbey.”

Banks of windows came to mind, row upon row of them lined up like soldiers across the stone surface of the palace. His mind shifted to Paris. Once again, Lord Delamere’s rambling, delusional last words.
“Case closed, not a stick of dynamite left unaccounted for, nor window left untended? We shall see, Kennedy.”
His mind ticked off every possible scenario. He imagined the barrel shaft of a rifle—several of them—all pointed in the direction of the Abbey.

“We haven’t got a moment to waste.” Zeno shot up from his chair. “Rob, do you still have those rockets at the bottom of the travel trunk?”

Rob wiped a few crumbs off an open mouth. “Crikey, Zak, are we off again?”

Halfway out the room, Zeno pivoted. “Mrs. Woolsley, put Rory on Skye and have him ride hell-for-leather to the Yard. I need every man they can spare. Have them meet me inside the Abbey.”

Eyes wide, Alma shook her head. “Oh, sir, you don’t think they’d hurt the dear—”

“No time to fret, Mrs. Woolsley, on your way.” Zeno made for the door.

CASSIE TOOK A seat on the examination table as Olivia closed up the empty clinic. “Such excitement over Victoria’s Golden Jubilee. I understand thousands already line the parade route.”

“Yes, I would expect so.” Her mother washed up in a basin of warm water and scrubbed with a harsh, disinfectant bar of soap. It made her fingers red and rough looking.

Wiping her hands on a clean towel, Olivia nearly ran the length of the room to give her a hug. “I couldn’t be more pleased, Cassie. You’ve chosen a good man.”

“Zak and I are not officially engaged. No wedding plans or announcements, please. You must promise me, Mother.”

“No rush, darling. Mr. Christy seems busy enough, what with refurbishing the vicarage residence.”

Cassie pressed her lips together and tried not to glower. “Mother, you know the moment our dear village vicar hears a whisper of gossip, he’ll begin his pestering.”

“I’ll deal with that old badger.” Her mother sat down beside her. “Now, let me see the ring.”

She held her hand up to display the gem. “A solitary marquis diamond.”

“A bit over two carats, I wager.” Olivia squeezed her hand. “Cartier?”

She nodded. “I knew Zeno inherited from his uncle’s estate, but had no idea what a comfortable income he enjoys.”

“Your father hadn’t a penny to his pocket after medical school. I married for love and potential.”

She smiled at the familiar statement. Olivia squinted a bit, placing her wrist against Cassie’s cheek, then forehead. “You appear slightly off color, dear.”

“I spent the trip from Calais to Dover with my head over the railing. I should have come to see you the moment we arrived in town, but we got in late last evening completely exhausted.” Cassie hesitated.

“And?”

“And I’m never seasick.” She grimaced. “I believe it was my revulsion over a coddled egg this morning that convinced me to seek you out.”

“Well, you’ve certainly experienced enough excitement of late to cause a bout of fever. We read all about Detective Kennedy’s valiant chase through Paris streets as well as your own harrowing involvement in the matter.” Olivia swept a few bangs off her forehead. “The excitement of your first continental exhibition, to say nothing of this mysterious betrothal of yours. Dear girl, I was most relieved to read—”

Cassie burst out with it. “Am I pregnant?”

Mother stopped to stare. “A bit early to know yet.” The spark of light in her eyes belied a more somber expression. “But then, you do so love coddled egg.” Her mother winked, but Dr. Olivia queried, “When was the first possible date of inception?”

Angling her brows together, she chewed her lip. “I believe …” She thought back to the Stanfield ball and counted the days forward. “Middle of May or thereabouts.”

The doctor retrieved a stethoscope from her medical bag, and attached the earpieces. “My word, you two didn’t waste any time.”

Her mother gave her chest a listen. “Strong heart. Good wind.

“Are your breasts heavy? Nipples sensitive? More than normal for this time of month? I do take it your menstrual period is late?”

Cassie nodded silently to all of it.

Olivia placed the stethoscope around her neck, but continued her examination. “Would you be happy to be pregnant?”

Heat flushed her cheeks. She met her eye-to-eye, daughter to mother, woman to woman. “Yes, I believe so.”

“Zeno has the makings of a good father, don’t you think? Firm but affectionate. Strict, yet fair-minded.” Olivia looked as if she might wax poetic.

Cassie could not help a peevish, impatient sigh. “Yes, I believe he will be a doting father.”

Her mother’s smallish grin took on larger proportions. “Just a guess, mind you, but I would say the chances are very great your father and I will become grandparents eight months from today.”

“Is there a test? Just to make sure?”

“None that are reliable.” She sighed. “I knew in every instance with you children, early on. What do you feel in your womb, Cassie?”