Chapter Twenty-Nine

Jacob was beginning to realize why men needed valets as he dressed for the ball. He’d never thought he’d be at a point in his life where he actually wanted someone to help him dress.

There was a timid knock on his door and Mrs. Smith’s voice through the heavy wood. “A Detective O’Leary is here to see you.”

Jacob opened the door, still trying to adjust his cuffs, and Mrs. Smith took a step back. “I told him you were busy, but he insisted.”

“That’s quite all right, Mrs. Smith. Detective O’Leary is always welcome.” O’Leary had never visited Jacob at his home, so he had no idea what his friend needed, but he was curious.

O’Leary was standing in the middle of Jacob’s office, and Jacob understood what Charlotte had said about needing a more respectable room to accept callers. Luckily, they were moving soon.

“I will keep this short,” O’Leary said. “Mrs. Smith told me you were preparing for your coming-out ball.” O’Leary’s lips twitched, and his Irish eyes danced.

“You are not funny. Armbruster’s mother insisted.”

“Even I know you can’t say no to Lady Armbruster.” O’Leary cleared his throat and was suddenly serious. “Another body was found.”

Jacob cursed. “And you still haven’t followed up on the information Charlotte provided.”

“My hands were tied by my superiors. Accusing a baron looks bad. However, this new body changes everything. The killer is getting sloppy. He didn’t dump it into the river, rather he left her where he killed her, and Lord and Lady Wallerstone found her.”

Jacob winced. “Was the latest victim missing a head?”

“Yes, and it was not at the scene of the crime, so he has it. I wanted to let you know that me and a few mates from the Yard will be paying the Morrises a visit tonight.”

“So now suddenly they believe Charlotte?”

“It’s the only lead we have, and with the new involvement of the Wallerstones they realize that they needed to do something.”

“What does that mean for Charlotte and me and the ball?”

“Nothing. We don’t believe you are in danger. Edmund never threatened Charlotte while they were under the same roof, and she doesn’t fit the criteria of his victims. I just wanted to let you know.”

…

She was ready early. Charlotte discovered that she didn’t have much patience with the entire preparing-for-a-ball silliness. She knew some women—like Sarah—thought the process as important as the ball itself.

Charlotte also didn’t want to attend this ball. She’d had butterflies in her stomach all week, and she finally decided that she would much prefer to stay at home with a good book, a warm fire, and Jacob by her side.

But she had to go because it was in her and Jacob’s honor, and maybe she would enjoy herself. Maybe she would meet new friends. Maybe it would be better than she thought.

Smoothing the fabric of her dark blue gown, she looked at herself critically in the full-length mirror. The modiste had worried about finishing the gown in the week that Charlotte had given her, but she’d followed through, and the gown was much more to her liking than Cora’s remade gowns, not that she didn’t appreciate them. But this style was simpler, with no lace, sleeves to her elbows. The skirt was full and brocaded. The neckline was square and dipped far too close to the edge of her bosom. She was a little worried about her naked shoulders. She’d never been out in public showing so much skin, but Sarah and her mother told her it was all the style.

Aunt Martha would be scandalized. Charlotte would have felt the switch on her backside, and she would have had to kneel by her bed for hours asking God’s forgiveness for wearing something so indecent.

Indecent was the word Aunt Martha would have used.

Charlotte thought it was very decent indeed. And beautiful.

She studied her short hair, wishing with all of her might that she had her long hair back. But Mrs. Smith had curled it so that it bounced around her head, and a pink flower peeked out from behind her right ear.

“Oh my,” Mrs. Smith had said. “This will be the new style. Mark my words. Girls will be begging to cut their hair like yours.”

Charlotte had blushed at the extravagant compliment but didn’t believe a word of it.

Some day she would have long hair again.

Through the looking glass she watched Jacob enter, and she caught her breath. He was magnificent in black tails and a white tie. His shoes shined so that she could see the room’s reflection in them.

He stopped short.

“Well then.” He cleared his throat and looked her over from head to toe with a gleam of admiration in his eyes. “Well then,” he repeated.

She was suddenly afraid that she didn’t look good enough to be on his arm. Maybe the dress was the wrong color, although Sarah had exclaimed over the richness of it.

Jacob visibly swallowed. “You are a beautiful woman, Lady Ashland, but this is beyond beautiful. This is exquisite.”

“Do you think so?” She plucked at her skirts nervously.

“Oh, I know so. When Mrs. Smith said I would be shocked, she was understating it.” He opened his arms wide and shook his head. “I have no words.”

“Thank you. You look amazing yourself.”

“I wasn’t too sure about the style but was told it was appropriate.”

“I think you did well.” There was an awkwardness between them, as if they were two different people. There were Charlotte and Jacob, and then there were Lord and Lady Ashland. They weren’t accustomed to playing the role of lord and lady.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a velvet box. Nestled inside was a stunning sapphire on a thick silver chain, and on each side of the necklace were teardrop sapphires for her ears.

“Oh, Jacob.” She put a hand to her chest, not daring to touch them.

“Mrs. Smith told me the color of your gown. I must say they’re almost an exact match.”

“They’re gorgeous. But I can’t wear these. They’re fit for Queen Victoria, not a former street urchin.”

“You are not a former street urchin. You are my wife, and you are Lady Ashland, and you deserve these and so much more.”

Hesitantly she reached out a finger and touched one of the cold stones. “What if I lose one?”

“I doubt you’ll lose one.” He put the box on her dressing table and lifted the necklace out. “Turn around.”

She turned to face the mirror and watched as he lowered the necklace over her head. The large sapphire settled, cold and heavy, on top of her breasts. She could feel his breath on her neck, and goose bumps formed on her arms. He was intently studying the clasp, his fingers skimming her bare neck and making her shiver.

Their gazes locked in the mirror, and a small smile tilted his lips. Without losing eye contact he lowered his head and put his lips where his fingers had touched, and she shivered again. Her body became heavy, and she instantly recognized the signs that she wanted him. He closed his eyes and moved his lips to kiss her again on the back of the neck. She closed her own eyes and leaned into him, tilting her neck as his kisses traveled over her trembling skin.

He kissed her bare shoulder, running his hands up her arm, and he turned her around to face him. She looked up at him as he lowered his head and kissed the exact spot where her bosom disappeared into her gown.

She was breathing heavy now and could see the rigid outline of his erection.

“We should go,” he whispered.

“We have a little time.”

He grinned. “You’ll be the death of me.”

She smiled and touched him outside of his trousers. He winced, but she knew now that meant that it felt good. She unbuttoned his trousers and pulled him out, cupping the full length of him in her hands, wrapping her fingers around him.

“We’re all dressed,” he said on a groan.

“We’ll get dressed again.”

“Good God, woman.”

He backed her against the wall and lifted her many voluminous skirts until the cool air hit her legs.

“Put your legs around my hips,” he commanded, and she did as he said, excited to try something new.

She was wet and ready for him, could already feel the pressure building inside of her.

He fumbled between them and inserted a finger inside of her, making her gasp. Her back was to the wall, supporting her, and she wriggled on his touch. Then his touch was gone, and his manhood was pressing against her, looking for her entrance. She guided him there, and he seated himself inside of her.

She leaned her head back against the wall and watched the various expressions rush across his face as he pumped into her.

“It feels so good,” she said softly as she moved with him.

He moved his hand to rub her. She cried out, and they moved faster until they both found their release, coming together in a violent kiss, and swallowing each other’s cries of pleasure.

He pulled out, and she felt the warm, liquid essence of him drip down her inner thighs.

Quickly he buttoned himself back up and grabbed a towel by the water pitcher and cleaned her up. She was boneless, leaning against the wall, her insides still quivering with her release.

“Well, that was definitely a good start to our night,” she said as she lowered her skirts and fluffed them out.

In the mirror she fixed her hair—no major disturbance there—and saw Jacob slide something in his pocket.

“Surely you’re not taking the pistol to a ball,” she said.

“Surely I am.”

“But, Jacob. We’ll be at Lady Armbruster’s. We’ll be safe there.”

Jacob looked at her with such a serious expression that she stilled. “O’Leary was just here. There was another body, this one left where she was killed. He didn’t even bother to push her into the Thames.”

“What does that mean?” Her words seemed to get stuck in her throat, and she had to force them out. Would she ever be free of the shadow of her aunt and cousin? Would she ever be happy without thinking that something would come along to destroy that happiness?

“O’Leary thinks Edmund—or rather, the killer—is getting sloppy. His superiors finally gave him authority to speak to the Morrises.”

“Are we in danger?”

“O’Leary says no. He does not think that Edmund is after you because he’s never threatened you in the past and you are not the type of woman he hunts.”

She breathed a marginal sigh of relief, although she would never be reassured until Edmund was stopped.

“And we can’t cancel on Lady Armbruster now. This ball is being held in our honor, after all.”

“That is true.”

He kissed her forehead. “We will go, and we won’t think of Edmund or Martha, and we will have a wonderful time. Are you ready?”

She fluffed her skirts one more time. For tonight she wouldn’t think about Aunt Martha or Cousin Edmund. Tonight she would attempt to enjoy herself.