her, the pleasure magnifying with each powerful thrust. At the moment of his dissolution, he cried out her name and collapsed on top of her, his movement growing weaker until he buried his head in her shoulder and grew still. Before he fell asleep, she heard a faint whisper.
“I love you, Meggie.”
She cradled his head in her arms, fighting back the tears. She had won his heart, but at what cost? She’d deceived him and parted her legs for cash.
She was no better than a harlot, and if he ever discovered the truth, she’d lose his love forever.
Chapter Thirty-One
Dexter looked up at the knock on the door.
“What is it?”
A timid-looking face appeared.
“Come in,” he said. “I like to know my staff have bodies as well as heads.”
The clerk shuffled in. “There’s a gentleman to see you.”
“Does he have an appointment?”
“N-no.”
“Tell him to make one,” Dexter said. “Can’t you see I’m busy—what’s your name?”
“Jenkins, sir. He said he has a large deposit to make and insists on seeing you personally.”
“How large?”
“He wouldn’t say, but he said the meeting would be to your advantage.”
Dexter sighed. “Let him in.”
Jenkins bowed and disappeared, closing the door behind him.
Imbecile! A few months ago, Dexter would have dismissed him on the spot. What the blazes was happening to him?
His wife, that’s what. She’d taught him that there was no shame in a little kindness.
The door opened again, and a man stepped inside.
Dexter looked up. “You!” he cried.
He was more finely dressed than when Dexter had last seen him. He wore a gentleman’s suit, not the livery of a footman of Alderley Hall. But he’d recognize that face anywhere—the finely chiseled lines and the cold gray eyes.
The man gestured to the chair opposite the desk. “May I?”
Without waiting for a reply, he drew back the chair and sat, leaning back and crossing his legs with a presence at nonchalance.
George Hanson.
George bloody Hanson, the reprobate who’d seduced Daisy, then abandoned her when he’d realized Dexter wasn’t going to give him any money.
“What do you want, Hanson?”
“Didn’t your man tell you? I wish to make a deposit.”
“I hardly think you have sufficient funds to make it worth my while,” Dexter said. “I suggest you leave before I throw you out.”
Hanson smiled, and Dexter’s fists itched to smash that smug grin off his face. He rose to his feet and reached for the man’s collar.
“Wait!” Hanson cried. “Will a thousand pounds be sufficient?”
“Where the devil did you get such a sum from?” Dexter sneered. “Did you steal it?”
“It was a most generous gift.”
“Do you think I care?” Dexter asked. “After what you did to my sister? I wouldn’t want your filthy money tainting my bank, however much you have.”
“Your sister?” Hanson laughed. “This has nothing to do with your sister.”
“Then, get out.”
“I’m here about your wife.”
Dexter froze. “My wife?”
Hanson folded his arms and gave him a triumphant smile. “Old habits die hard,” he said. “She was a little too quick to give me what I wanted.”
He picked up Dexter’s inkpot—cut crystal set in gold.
“May I have this?” He slipped it into his pocket. “Most generous. I’ll wager you’ll be more inclined to give me what I want. Now you’re rubbing shoulders with the high and mighty. For you have further to fall.”
Dexter gritted his teeth, swallowing the red-hot ball of fury in his throat.
“What is my wife to you?”
“My lady patroness,” Hanson said smoothly. “She opened her legs even faster than your sister.”
“It was you?” Dexter asked. “Dear God! What possessed you to ruin her? Did you expect payment from her father as you did from me?”
“That old skinflint!” Hanson scoffed. “But I’m sure you’re prepared to be generous. A man can disown his by-blow, but it’s more difficult for a prominent banker to deny the existence of his wife.”
“You think I didn’t know that my wife lay with another man?”
“Men,” Hanson said. “I wasn’t the first. Doubtless, you suffered the same disappointment on your wedding night that I experienced when she offered herself to me. I’m sure we both know when we’re bedding a virgin”
“You filthy bastard!” Dexter curled his hands into fists.
“Think about it, Hart,” Hanson said. “What on earth possessed a miser such as Alderley to pay for her upkeep? A woman like her can make a fortune on her back.”
Dexter reached out and grasped the man’s collar. “Insult my wife again, and I’ll kill you!”
“Did she tell you about her child?”
Dexter’s blood froze. “You lie.”
“Never told you that, did she?” Hanson grinned. “She said it was