Midnight Pleasures With a Scoundrel (23 page)

“No, Emma.” His arms were around her before he’d given it any thought. Turning her, he drew her into his body, pressed her face to his chest. “I read her journal. Nothing you said caused her death. Nothing you could have said would have stopped it. Rockberry is the sole blame here.”

She tilted her head back to look at him, her delicate brow furrowed. “Had I been a better sist—”

He touched his finger to her lips before she could finish. “You mustn’t think that way. Had I been a better son…you see? Nothing is to be gained.” Although he had spent a good many years wondering how differently things might have been if he’d not taken the watch, if he
had
been a better son. Only now, while holding this woman close, trying to ease her pain, did a bit of his ease as well. Guilt and regret had taken the joy from his life. This woman returned it all to him. It broke his heart that she suffered, that she felt guilt and remorse.

“When I read Elisabeth’s words, read what happened to her, at first I couldn’t believe them,” Emma said. “I thought surely they were a story she’d created or a rumor she’d heard about something happening in London. I wept when I finally faced the reality of them. How could someone in Lord Rockberry’s position be as vile as all that? He trifled with her. Broke her heart, broke her spirit, and in the end broke her body.”

“I’ve known people from all walks of life—from the beggar on the street corner to those who have dined in the presence of the queen. At all levels, I’ve seen people behave in ways that have turned my stomach. But at all levels, I’ve also seen people to be admired. Feagan was a thief, took me in, taught me to be a thief. I would have died for him. Claybourne, a lord with blood on his hands. I admire no man more than I admire him. Even Jack Dodger, scoundrel that he is, takes boys in off the street and gives them a job, keeps them out of trouble. Society is made up of good and bad, Emma. You cannot judge any portion of it based on a few.”

She gave him a soft smile. “I think you would have liked Elisabeth.”

“I know I would have.” Grateful for her smile and the easing of sorrow in her eyes, he tweaked her nose. “But not more than I like you.”

She released a bubble of laughter, and everything within him finally relaxed. “May we move away from the edge now?”

Her smile grew. “Do you not like the cliffs?”

“I don’t like being so close to them, no.”

“They’re perfectly safe.” Sadness suddenly contorted her features. “Unless you don’t want them to be.”

He couldn’t ask her not to think about her sister, especially as there was unfinished business, but he suspected he could distract Emma for a time, especially as he’d already gone far too long without kissing her. Even as he took her mouth, even as she offered it, he was grateful that she wasn’t the one who’d been charged with going to London last Season to secure a husband and a future for her sisters. The thought of Rockberry touching so much as a hair on her head caused Swindler’s blood to scald. It seemed Emma wasn’t the only one unable to stop thinking about her sister.

It was only when she eased her feet over his in order to achieve a little more height that he realized she, too, was barefoot. How was it that something as simple and tiny as her bare soles could shoot sparks of desire through him? How was it that he could easily imagine laying her down on the cool grass, wrapping his fingers around her bare ankle and sliding his hand up her calf, over her knee, and along her thigh?

Only a few hours had passed since he’d taken her in his bed, yet at that moment he was as randy as a callow youth who had yet to experience his first woman. Pulling back from the kiss, he saw the yearning in her deep blue eyes and he realized, somewhat startled, that they matched the sea in the distance. She belonged here with her bare feet, her sea blue eyes, her gentleness. Even as his thoughts traveled that path, he remembered that she could be as fierce and as deadly as the storm. He’d underestimated her determination where justice was concerned once—he wouldn’t do it again.

He slid his hand down her arm and laced his fingers through hers until their palms touched. He’d never considered how sensual it could be to hold a lady’s hand intimately. If not for the weight of what remained before them, he might have felt carefree and lighthearted. Instead he wished they might have today forever and that tomorrow might never arrive. She was the one who tugged on his hand and prompted them to begin walking back toward the house. He thought he could grow accustomed to this place, to having her near. Even with so innocent a musing, guilt and regret battled within him. London was where he belonged, fighting for the rights of the innocent.

“The roads will be muddy,” she said quietly, as though she knew in which direction his mind wandered. “It would be best to delay our journey until they’ve dried.”

“How long?”

She peered up at him, her lips forming a mischievous grin that made him want to lean down and kiss her again. “Twenty, thirty years.”

The wind carried his laughter toward the road that would lead them to the village, and from there back to London. He sobered. “I wish it could be so, Emma.”

“But you’re a man of honor, a man of the law. It’s one of the things I admire about you, that you believe in justice. But I don’t see why Eleanor and I must both pay for one act. Spare her. Take me and leave her here. She already suffers greatly for what she did.”

He stopped walking and touched her cheek. Was there anyone as courageous, as unselfish, as these two sisters, each willing to take the complete responsibility for Rockberry’s death and to pay the ultimate price? He knew they weren’t a threat to anyone else. Their actions had been motivated by grief and horror over what the marquess had done to their sister. Swindler had often released boys from gaol or failed to arrest them when their crimes were petty. But murder?

“Eleanor asked the same of me, to leave you behind. But it’s not a simple matter, Emma. If there is only one of you, how do I explain my vouching for you? My word, my reputation, will come into question. My position with Scotland Yard will be in jeopardy.”

“Then don’t take either of us.”

“I’ve never not been able to solve a crime.”

“So it’s your pride that drives you?”

Her words pounded into him. He’d never considered himself prideful. His work was altruistic. It brought him a sense of satisfaction to do for others what he’d been too terrified to do for his father—provide evidence that he wasn’t the guilty party. “No, my efforts protect the innocent. I risk losing my ability to ensure it is the guilty who pay and not the innocent. I’ve spent my life striving to atone for my father’s death. I can’t turn my back on it or dishonor it now—no matter how much I wish matters were different.”

With a small nod, she moved away from his touch as easily as shadows retreated when touched by the sun. He sensed no anger in her. Disappointment, perhaps. Grudging acceptance of his decision.

They began walking again, but were no longer holding hands. He felt the absence of her touch like a huge, aching chasm in his chest. How could he make her understand that if he wasn’t with Scotland Yard, he’d have no purpose in his life? As justified as he considered the death of Rockberry—the man was a beast—Swindler could see only two choices if he wanted to save her: let the murder go unsolved or allow only Eleanor to pay the price. And only Eleanor paying the price brought its own complications, as he’d already explained to Emma. He was also almost certain it would cost him Emma. She’d not forgive him for arresting her sister and not her. Truth be told, he could see Emma marching into police headquarters and claiming she’d done the deed. The sisters would work together to confuse the courts—or they’d accept their punishment.

After reading Elisabeth’s journal, something else had begun nagging at Swindler. Business remained undone. Finishing it might bring salvation for both ladies, but the dangers couldn’t be overlooked.

“In her journal, Elisabeth mentioned silver filigree that Rockberry placed around her neck.”

Emma peered over at him, and in her eyes he saw that she didn’t want to discuss the particulars of what had transpired between her sister and Rockberry. But in the jut of her chin, he recognized her determination not to retreat from what could well turn into unpleasant discourse.

“Yes.”

“Do you know if she kept it? Have you seen it?”

She flushed. How easily she was embarrassed, even after the incredible intimacy they’d shared. He wondered if Elisabeth had been as quick to blush. Had Rockberry taken delight in it?

Had he even noticed the smallest things about her, or had he seen her as only a sacrifice to his brutal masculinity?

“Eleanor and I discovered it among her things after…afterward.”

After her death. Once they’d read the journal, he didn’t think they would treasure the piece. “What became of it?”

They’d neared the house. Emma stopped to face him as though she wished this conversation to end outside, so Eleanor would not have to endure so painful a topic. He couldn’t fail to notice how protective the sisters were of each other. “We took it with us to London and had it delivered to Lord Rockberry, along with a message.”

“The words of the message?” he prodded.

Again she blushed, her face turning a darker red than he’d ever seen it. “She’s dead. Soon you shall be as well.”

“A bit melodramatic, but no doubt effective. That’s the reason when he went to Scotland Yard that he could sound so confident that you meant to kill him.”

“Did he show the missive to Scotland Yard?”

“Not to my knowledge—although it’s quite possible he did. My superior was quite adamant that I keep watch over you, determine your purpose and sway you from it.”

“So your interest in me was all a deception.”

Her voice carried no doubts. She’d not offered a question, but had made a statement. Her eyes dared him to denounce the truth, but he was as weary of lies between them as she was. Even as he thought it, he realized her coming to his arms last night could have been deception as well, an attempt to engage his heart so he would leave without either sister. He wanted to trust her motives, but the pain of her initial betrayal was still a hollow ache. He wondered if they’d ever completely trust each other—and if they didn’t, how could she believe that he’d truly given her his heart?

“In the beginning, yes,” he said. “My plan was to gain your favor, entice you into telling me your reasons for following Rockberry.” He wanted to touch her but didn’t dare. She suddenly appeared as fragile as a piece of hand-blown glass. “But I quickly fell under your spell.”

“So you think I bewitched you?”

“I’m beginning to understand that just as I was playing you, so you were playing me. We were both involved in separate, but equally as elaborate, swindles. I wanted to entice you into revealing your purpose; you wanted to seduce me into providing you with an alibi.”

“And last night?”

“It’s my hope that we were completely honest with each other. But I also recognize that we’ve both become quite skilled at duplicity, and it’s possible neither of us would recognize honesty if it bit us on the arse.”

She averted her gaze from his and stared out at the cliffs, at the sea. “The one time I’ve always been honest with you is when I’ve lain with you.”

Gently, he molded his hand around her chin and turned her head so he could see the deep blue of her eyes. “The only time I haven’t been honest with you was my reason for pursuing you.”

She gave him a tremulous smile. “We have a very rocky foundation beneath us.”

“But it is a foundation, Emma. Only we can determine what we want to build on top of it now.”

“Don’t be so fanciful, James. We can’t build anything. We’re at cross purposes. I’ve committed a crime. And you solve crimes.”

Damnation! How could he make her understand? They were going back and forth, covering ground that had already been plowed.

“Emma, not everything I do is within the law.”

“But you’re an inspector.”

“And sometimes I look the other way. I can’t on this matter because he’s a blasted lord, but I can assure you that if your sentence is not just, I will see you released from gaol. I will see that you have another life, but first, I would like very much to try to see that you return to this one.”

“You said you have influence.”

“I have a duke and an earl in my pocket.”

“Claybourne and Greystone.”

He nodded. “And Jack Dodger could purchase all of London if he wanted. They have power, Emma. I’m not above asking them to wield it.”

“And what of you, James Swindler?”

“My power is not as visible as theirs, but I have it. I’ve earned it. Now back to the silver. Do you remember exactly what it looked like?”

She nodded. “I believe so, yes. It very much resembled a choker, but strands of silver flowed from it. It was really quite lovely. Ironic that it symbolized something so ugly.”

“Can you help me draw it?”

She looked taken aback. “Whatever for?”

“Because swindles are my strong suit, and I believe one more is needed to put this matter to rest.”

Chapter 20

T
he m

T

ain part was a web of tiny strands that fit snugly around a lady’s neck,” Emma said, sitting at the table in the kitchen and watching as James sketched what she described. She loved the way he looked when he concentrated. Whether it was at the paper or her, he gave each his full attention. She knew her actions in London had put him in an awkward position regarding his feelings for her and his responsibilities toward his duties. He cared about justice. He cared about her.

“And on either side of the part that rested at the hollow of a woman’s throat, several knotted strands dangled down,” Eleanor explained. “Their length increased as they moved toward the center until the one in the middle was long enough to dangle between—” Clearing her throat, she looked at Emma.

“I think I have the gist of what it dangled between,” James said quietly, and Emma smiled at the sight of his cheeks turning red. He didn’t often show discomfort—at least not with her. It was interesting to see this aspect of him, and to know that he did feel different toward Eleanor than he felt toward Emma. He was not as comfortable with her sister. “What else?”