“You two know each other?” Nick’s comment was polite, but Pamela recognized it as lacking its usual warmth.
Pamela looked over at him. “Yes. M-M-Marcus is Addie’s br-brother.”
He didn’t care for the informal way Pamela referred to Mallory. He decided more formality was in order. “Lady Berkshire? She is Mr. Mallory’s sister?”
“Yes.” Mallory turned to Nick. “I had the privilege of meeting Lady Pamela at my sister’s wedding last year.”
Nick walked to Pamela and wrapped his arm around her waist. “It truly is a small world, is it not?” He felt like an idiot being so possessive, but he didn’t like the way Mallory looked at Pamela. However, from what he’d heard about the man from those who recommended him as the person to possibly help in the search for Lizbeth Davenport, he was a known rake, unwilling to please his parents and settle down with a wife and family.
“I heard about your accident. Or rather, it was not really an accident but more of an on-purpose.” Marcus smiled warmly at her.
Nick’s lips tightened and he turned to Pamela. “May I get you something to drink, Pamela?” No point in being formal with her. Just to let Marcus know where things stood. Pamela smirked at him when he placed his arm around her, but she didn’t make a scene and toss it off.
“Yes. A sh-sherry, please.”
Mrs. Fletcher arrived in the room to join them and waved off Nick’s offer of a drink.
“Although you are still lovely, anyway, it appears you took quite a beating when you were run down.” Mallory shook his head in sympathy at Pamela.
She took the glass from Nick and turned to Marcus, giving a brief nod. “I’m j-j-just grateful that I didn’t s-s-suffer anything worse than a few b-bumps and br-bruises.” She took a sip of sherry and viewed him over the top of her glass. “S-since you are h-here, I assume you are the g-g-gentleman who is h-helping us locate M-Miss Davenport?”
“Yes. Mr. Smith contacted me because of my work on a bill that keeps passing in the House of Lords, but not in the House of Commons. It bothers me that my fellow MPs can’t see the benefit of raising the age of consent and thwarting the increase in child prostitution.”
“There are those who object?” Nick asked as he swirled the brandy around in his glass.
Marcus nodded. “Yes. The bill passed the Lords in 1883 but failed in the Commons. It was again introduced in 1884, but for a second time was dropped. Just this year the bill was introduced once more and passed by the Lords, but it now languishes in the Commons again.” He took a sip of his drink and shook his head. “Parliament will adjourn shortly, and I hope to gain enough votes in favor to pass it this time, but it doesn’t look promising.”
“Dinner is served,” Grossman announced from the doorway, gaining their attention.
The four of them proceeded to the dining room. The room was as well-appointed as the rest of the house. Nick had always enjoyed his time with Montrose when he was in London and appreciated the man’s generosity with his house when Nick needed it. Montrose was one of the men he’d met on his way up from the streets. He had offered Nick a position in one of his businesses where he learned a great deal. Montrose had then acted as a mentor for years after Nick struck out on his own.
Nick pulled out Pamela’s chair and Marcus helped Mrs. Fletcher into hers. He was pleased to see that Marcus seemed to have picked up on the fact that Pamela was spoken for. He wasn’t sure if there was interest on the man’s part, but before it could develop, it was wise to forestall it.
One footman poured wine while the other offered each diner a whitefish in a cream sauce. Pamela shook out her napkin and placed it on her lap. “T-tell me m-more about this b-bill.”
Marcus picked up his fork and addressed Pamela. “The Criminal Law Amendment Act is meant to protect women and girls and suppress brothels. It will also raise the age of consent and delineate the penalties for sexual offenses against women and children.”
“Why would anyone object to that?” Mrs. Fletcher asked.
“Money. It always comes down to money.” Marcus took a sip of wine and nodded at Nick. “I’m sure you know precisely what I mean, Mr. Smith.”
“Nick, if you please. Since we will be working together, I think formality is not needed.” Especially, Nick thought, since it appeared Marcus was not paying Pamela any more attention than anyone else.
The fish plates were whisked away and soon platters of chicken fricassee, rice, three vegetables, hot rolls and butter were placed on the table. Pamela did her best to maneuver with her wrist still paining her, but Mrs. Fletcher was quick enough to help her when she fumbled with her food.
Nick addressed Mrs. Fletcher. “In answer to your question, there is a great deal of money to be made in the selling of women and children. The ‘cleaner’ the woman is, the higher the price her procurer could demand.”
“Is th-that why the women fr-from that room in m-my boarding house were dis-disappearing?” Pamela’s face grew red, either from embarrassment or anger.
Marcus directed his words to Pamela. “Nick told me about your boarding house, and I believe it is one of the places we’ve been investigating. Even though it is my job to get the bill through parliament, I became quite interested in the problem and did quite a bit of probing myself.”
Pamela sat back, her eyes wide. “Th-then it wasn’t m-m-my imagination? Mrs. O’Leary r-really was luring young w-women to the house f-f-for the purpose of s-s-selling them?”
Marcus nodded. “Yes. And I believe, along with Nick, that the attempt to run you down in the road was the action of those involved trying to shut you up.”
The rest of the meal passed in pleasant discussion, which Mrs. Fletcher introduced by asking Marcus about various events and places of interest in London. Nick was grateful for the turn in conversation because Pamela seemed to relax after being so upset with the talk of kidnapping.
They all retired to the drawing room where Marcus only stayed for about another half hour before rising. “I will be in touch, Nick. There are several places on my list that we can visit together and see what we can find out.” He paused for a minute. “Bring a gun if you have one.”
Nick walked him to the door and stuck out his hand. “Thank you for coming tonight and for your help. Lady Pamela is very upset about her friend.”
“Yes. I noticed.” He grinned. “It appears you have a special interest in helping the young lady. I wish you the best with that. Lady Pamela is a lovely woman. But I will do anything I can to help, also. I feel so helpless when I beg for votes for my bill and am blocked by those who don’t wish for things to change. At least if I can help one young girl, and possibly turn the information over to the police in the process, it will help me sleep better at night.”
If Marcus Mallory was indeed the rake he’d been labeled, he certainly had a soft side to him rarely found in men with that moniker.
Once Marcus left, Nick returned to the drawing room, taking the chair across from Pamela. Mrs. Fletcher stood and stifled a yawn. “I believe I will seek my bed. It’s been a long day with the travel and company for dinner.” She looked over at Pamela. “You should retire as well, my lady. You are still recovering from your injuries.” She gave Nick a purposeful glance.
“Pamela will be right up. I have a few things to discuss with her.”
Mrs. Fletcher hesitated, but finally bowed her head. “Very well. Good night, then.”
Pamela eyed Nick carefully. She didn’t care for the look in his eyes. On the other hand, her body seemed to care a great deal since a tingling began in her middle and soon became a warm flush on her face.
Nick lowered his voice and crooked his finger at her. “Come here.”
Her heart immediately sped up. His voice and the look in his eyes brought tingles to various parts of her body. She should say no. She should leave the room. She should shout for Mrs. Fletcher. But instead she walked, as if in a dream, to where he sat. He reached out and grasped her good hand and pulled her forward. She tumbled onto his lap.
“Th-this is m-most improper.” She fumbled to straighten her skirts which were wrapped around her legs.
“Mrs. Fletcher isn’t far, and if you are really concerned you may call her at any time.” His slight smile turned into a grin when she didn’t respond. And didn’t stand up. And didn’t call for Mrs. Fletcher.
He resettled her body, so she faced him. Slowly, as if to give her time to stop him, he cupped her chin and lowered his head. A slight brush of his lips on hers brought a slight moan from deep within her chest. That seemed to embolden him to tilt her head and take the kiss deeper.
He nudged her lips with his tongue, and she opened. He tasted of brandy and something minty. He pulled away and scattered kisses over her cheeks, forehead, nose, and jaw. “I want you Pamela.”
“Mrs. F-F-Fletcher.”
He continued the assault on her skin. “Are you reminding me of her, or trying to call for help?”
“N-n-no.” She wasn’t sure why she mentioned the woman. All rational thought left her as Nick continued to kiss her, nibble on her ear lobe and breathe words of desire in her ear.
She leaned her head to one side to allow him to continue kissing her neck. Were she in her normal mind, she would have felt him fumbling with the back of her gown, but that didn’t occur to her until the front of her gown dropped below her stays. One little move and the entire front would land in her lap.
“Beautiful.” Nick stared at her, then ran his hand over the swells above her stays. “So beautiful.” He leaned forward and kissed her there, the warmth from his mouth causing goose flesh to rise. Pamela wrapped her hand around his head and pulled him closer.
“Oh, yes, my love.” He quickly untied the ribbon on her chemise and released her breasts from the stays. His tongue swirled around her nipple which grew hard and taut.
Pamela was growing warm and wet in the area between her legs. She felt the need to push that part of her body against something hard. Almost as if Nick had read her mind, his hand slid up her calf, under her gown. He massaged and caressed her skin until he reached the area that throbbed for some sort of release.
She sucked in a breath then closed her eyes as his thumb circled a part of her that ached. “Y-yes. Y-yes.”
He brought his mouth back up to her face and stared in her eyes. “Relax, my sweet and let me pleasure you.”
She wasn’t sure what he meant, all she knew was whatever it was he was doing, to whatever part of her body she had been unaware of until now, she never wanted him to stop.
The feel of his fingers working her flesh made her even wetter. She had no idea what was happening to her, but it felt wonderful and she didn’t want it to end. In fact, she wanted something more that she wasn’t aware of.
“Does that feel good?” He mumbled against her lips as he continued his ministrations, then bent to again take her breast in his mouth, suckling hard. At the same time, he pressed his thumb firmly against her and she began to cry out as wave after wave of something glorious that she’d never felt before washed over her. Nick quickly covered her mouth with his to swallow the sounds she could not seem to control.
Small jerks of pleasure continued as Nick slowly stopped moving his fingers against her. Pamela slumped in his arms, feeling as though all her bones had melted. She looked up at him. “What was that?”
He smiled as if gazing at a young child and pushed the curls behind her ear. “Ah, my innocent one. That was what is called an orgasm, or a climax. It’s what makes intimate relations between a man and a woman so very nice and satisfying.”
She suddenly realized she was sprawled all over Nick with the bodice of her dress around her waist with his hand up her skirts. If Mrs. Fletcher chose that moment to check on them, her reputation would be ruined.
“I n-n-need to f-fix myself.” She shifted, and in her attempt to move as quickly as possible, she fell to the floor in a swirl of skirts. She looked up at him. “H-help.”
I was obvious Nick was trying very hard not to laugh, but she imagined she must have looked quite comical with her skirts almost over her head and everything else in disarray.
He scooped her into his arms and stood, then placed on firmly on the floor. “Let me help you.”
Her knees were having a hard time holding her up as he gently put her clothing to right. Now that the cloud had cleared from her brain, all she could think about was Mrs. Fletcher finding them, or anyone else for that matter.
Nick finished with her gown and covered her lips with his finger. “Shh. Don’t say anything.”
“Wh-what do you m-mean?”
“I can hear your brain telling yourself what a horrid person you must be to have allowed that.”
Pamela raised her chin. “Well. Th-that is true. F-f-for as wonderful as it felt, it was t-t-totally improper.”
Nick placed his hands on her shoulders and looked directly into her eyes. The softness there, and something else she didn’t dare identify both warmed and frightened her.
“Hear this, sweetheart. I intend—have always intended—to make you my wife. Then we will do things like that and much more in our own soft bed with a firmly locked door between us and the rest of the world.”
She shook her head furiously. “N-n-no. I c-cannot m-m-marry you. Or anyb-b-body. You w-w-ould grow t-tired of listening to m-me.”
He ran his knuckle down her cheek. “No. I would never grow tired of listening to you. Don’t you realize I’ve worked for you all my life?”
She frowned, not sure what he meant.
He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against his chest. “You are the reason I am Mr. Nicolas Smith, not some gutter rat diving for trinkets in the Thames for a man who beats children, starves them, and forces them to work for the pittance he allows. Some stale bread and a glass of ale.
‘You’re the reason I pulled myself up out of the slime of London and worked my arse off to become better. It was you that I struggled for with learning to read, to speak properly, to dress properly. I pushed myself through lessons on which fork to use, and how to dance. I knew in my heart that one day I would meet you. The other half of my heart. Of my soul. I spent a lot of years getting ready for you. Now that I’ve found you, I am not letting you go.”
He took in a deep breath and chuckled. “I never made such a speech in my life.” He tapped her on the nose. “You see what you do to me? If the employees at my club just heard me, I would be laughed out of the city.”
“I th-think it was v-very sweet.”
He grimaced. “And don’t ever tell anyone I’m sweet, either, if you don’t wish to see me bludgeoned to death.”
She tried very hard to keep the tears from her eyes, but it wasn’t possible. No one had ever appreciated her the way Nick did. She was almost beginning to believe he really didn’t care that she stuttered.
“Lady Pamela. I believe it is time to rest and recuperate from your injuries.” Mrs. Fletcher stood in the doorway in her dressing gown and night cap, her arms crossed over her chest, her foot tapping a cadence on the floor.