Valiant (Gentlemen of the Order #3) - Adele Clee Page 0,85
sat beneath the beech tree, attempting to read Thomas Gray’s poem, but had barely made it past the first stanza.
“We’re Sloane and Sloane, double the trouble, and brimming with heart.”
She laughed. “Oh, I like that, too.”
“Do you miss the thrill of chasing about in the dark, my love?” He was to return to London to take a new case, knew she longed to assist him. “Perhaps we could play a game of hide and seek in the grounds tonight.”
She straightened, excitement evident. “If you find me, will I have to do as you command?”
“Undoubtedly. And when you find me, I shall gladly pay a forfeit.” He’d wanted to tell her his secret after dinner this evening, but he lived to make her happy and could no longer contain the news. “I received word from Daventry this morning.”
“Has Mr Ramsey found the money to pay his creditors?”
With limited options, Ramsey had returned to London and currently had a caged room at the sponging-house. “There’s little hope for him as his debts are extensive.”
“Mr Howarth was right. Greed is a plague that scourges the hearts of men.”
“And the hearts of women. Lady Hollinshead won’t find life easy in Boston.” The countess had returned to London, too. But after learning of her treachery, the earl took his wife to Liverpool and insisted she board the boat. “No, Daventry wrote to tell me he is assisting his friend Damian Wycliff in a venture—a house for destitute ladies, a means of helping those down on their luck.”
“The options are limited for unmarried women without means. So many travel to town seeking a better future. Many fall foul to unscrupulous devils.”
“They’re looking for a certain type of lady.”
Her eyes widened. Clearly, she had misunderstood.
“Intelligent women with an ability to investigate delicate cases,” he said. “Strong women who understand the importance of justice.”
Vivienne jerked in surprise. “Lady enquiry agents?”
“Indeed. Miss Trimble is to oversee the running of the house, but Daventry asked if you might like to play a role, offer advice in a professional capacity.”
Her mouth fell open.
Oh how he longed to draw her close, slip his tongue inside and explore.
“Me? Mr Daventry thinks I have the necessary experience?”
“He’s impressed by your deductive skills. There’s one lady living in the house at present, Miss Sands, but Daventry is keen to employ more.”
Miss Sands had already received her first task, though Evan was sworn to secrecy. D’Angelo’s need to avenge his parents’ murder was taking its toll. So much so, Daventry had decided to assist from the shadows. To make sure D’Angelo didn’t end up a bloated corpse in the Thames.
Vivienne studied him intently. “You would not object to me offering my assistance?”
“No, love. Though I ask you keep me informed, that you consult me, that you do not place yourself at risk.”
He would have to offer assistance, too, for her safety was his priority. And when Buchanan returned from escorting Mrs McCready back to the Highlands, Daventry wished to offer him a role.
Evan barely had time to catch his breath before Vivienne climbed onto his lap and kissed him. He felt the depth of her gratitude with every stroke of her tongue. As always, a passionate kiss quickly progressed to the need for deeper satisfaction.
“Make love to me,” she breathed against his mouth. “There’s no one here but us.”
“And a mermaid clutching a seashell.”
Vivienne glanced back over her shoulder at the statue in the middle of the lake. “You should erect a statue of my grandfather. Perhaps it’s time to stop paying homage to a mermaid and give credit to the man who did save Livingston’s life.”
“Why would I worship a mermaid when I have a nymph of my own?” He clutched her hips, moved her back and forth over the hard length of his arousal. “Besides, the mermaid is as old as the house. Some other fellow had a love for the mythical creatures. Perhaps that’s where my grandfather got the idea for his tale. Can we make love now?”
She claimed his mouth in response—hot, urgent.
He’d be inside her in seconds.
But then she dragged her lips from his and stilled. “Might your grandfather’s last message be a clue to finding a real legacy?”
“Can we not discuss this later?”
Mr Golding had struggled to contain his relief when he flicked to the back of the notebook and read the heartfelt messages. Livingston’s words brimmed with praise for their tenacity and courage in making it this far. Money corrupted the best of men, and the exercise should have