darling,” Alex said gently, “wait until we understand everything before you have the vapors.” He looked at Garrick, his dark eyes narrowing. “Was this because of her brother’s death, Farne?”
“Yes,” Garrick said. He looked at Joanna. She did not have any of Merryn’s blind obstinacy or her quest for truth and justice, he thought, but she did, unexpectedly, have some of her sister’s strength of character. She was not having the vapors after all.
“I am sorry, Lady Grant,” he said gently. “The facts of the case are well-known. I killed your brother and I have never tried to pretend otherwise.”
“No,” Joanna said. Her blue eyes, so like Merryn’s, swept his face with surprising perception. “And yet you have never spoken of what happened.” She paused. “Did Merryn ask you about it?”
“Yes,” Garrick said. “She asked me several times.”
Joanna pressed her hands to her cheeks. “You refused,” she whispered.
“I could not tell her the whole truth,” Garrick said. “I should have realized that she would never settle for half measures.” He rubbed a hand over his face. He could see that so clearly now, now that it was far, far too late.
“Merryn will not wed you without knowing everything,” Joanna said. She gave a little exasperated sigh. “Oh, that is so like her! She has probably gone on some wild-goose chase to try to unravel the past. She is too stubborn and too principled. She can never see that sometimes it is better to let matters lie.”
“But Merryn cannot live like that,” Garrick said. “I have to find her. The only problem is that I have no notion where she might have gone.”
“Perhaps Bradshaw might know,” Alex suggested, leaning forward. “She might have shared her plans with him when they worked together. He seems to be a man quick to capitalize on anything that might work to his advantage.”
Garrick looked at him. “I had not thought of that,” he admitted. “And there is only one way to find out.”
Alex pulled a face. “If he has a vested interest, he may not tell us.”
“We could try to persuade him,” Garrick said.
Alex laughed. “I like your thinking, Farne, but Bradshaw is a tough nut to crack.”
“We could send Tess,” Joanna said. “He is terrified of her.”
Alex looked at Garrick, raised his brows. “Worth a try,” he murmured.
Garrick was thinking fast. “We’ll all go,” he said. “Lady Darent can try first. If Mr. Bradshaw proves obstinate …” He shrugged and saw Alex smile.
“Will you come back with us to Tavistock Street to fetch Tess?” Joanna asked. She sighed. “It may take a little while for her to be ready, I’m afraid.” She smiled at Garrick, a limpid smile that for some reason made him feel very, very wary. “And while we wait for her,” Joanna said, “you can explain to me what it is you refused to tell Merryn about Stephen’s death.” She paused. “I never hero-worshipped my brother,” she said, very precisely. “I know he was an unmitigated scoundrel, if that makes it any the easier for you.”
Garrick hesitated. “Lady Grant,” he said, “I cannot. I am under oath not to tell—”
He fell silent at the steely look in Joanna’s eyes. “Then you will explain to me as much as you can,” she said.
Alex laughed. “Best admit defeat, Farne,” he said. He gave Garrick a consoling slap on the shoulder. “You thought it was just Merryn, but it is not,” he said. “All the Fenner women are as stubborn as mules. Since you are to be a member of the family—” he smiled “—it is best you understand that from the start.”
HARRIET KNIGHT WAS IN A bad mood and had been for a whole week, since the news of Garrick Farne’s precipitous engagement and imminent marriage to Lady Merryn Fenner had reached her ears. It had fired her temper and Tom had reaped the benefits of that in several ways but now, as he sat in his office chair in a state of great disarray with a partially naked Harriet squirming on his lap, he reflected that this must be the last time. He had extracted every last ounce of useful information from Harriet and some delightful sexual favors as well, but now he had urgent business to deal with. His bags were packed, sitting in the corner of the office, and he was traveling to Somerset later that day. His departure, he thought, would give him the perfect excuse to break matters off with Harriet.
“Thomas …” Harriet had been kissing his neck, her hands roving over his bare chest but now she slapped his face to regain his attention, and none too playfully, either. What a shrew. The sooner he was rid of her the better.
“You are not paying attention to me,” Harriet scolded. “You are thinking about your work.”
Tom silently admitted that he had been. He, too, had been in a permanently bad mood since Merryn had had the stupidity to be trapped in the beer flood with Garrick Farne and had ended up betrothed to him. His manipulation of her had been working so well. She had found out much useful information. Then everything had gone wrong. His attempt to blackmail her family had misfired spectacularly and he had ended up having to do his own dirty work after all.
Tom frowned, trying to think past the sensual barrage that was Harriet’s determined seduction. He knew that he had only one option left now. He had to go to Somerset and finish this job himself. Harriet started to lick and nibble at his chest, her tongue scampering over his skin and distracting his attention again. It was arousing, as was the fact that he was very close now to bringing down the Farne Dukedom. He had wanted that for a long time.
Harriet slapped him again, a little harder this time, punishing him for his lack of attention. Little witch. He caught her wrist and held it tightly. She kicked him, her bare foot catching his shin so that he winced. There would be a bruise there tomorrow. He tried to kiss her but she wrenched her head away and bit him on the lip. Hard. Her eyes were bright with malice and excitement. Tom tasted blood. He gave a roar, tumbled her off his knee and onto the rug. She dragged him down with her, and they rolled over, Harriet’s hair flying as she struggled like a wild thing in his arms, scratching and pummeling him. He held her arms above her head to prevent her from hurting him and she laughed up at him, eyes blazing with lust now and he pulled down his pantaloons and plunged into her and she screamed with excitement.
The door opened. Tom, buried deep inside Harriet, froze. His mind was utterly incapable of coherent thought. His body, so much more unsophisticated—so much more predictable—wanted to shaft Harriet until he was thoroughly satisfied. He wished he had locked the door. He wished his unwelcome visitor would take the hint and go away.
Then he noticed the beautiful silver slippers in his line of sight and the embroidered hem of the matching silver silk gown.
“Dear me,” Tess Darent said. Her voice was mild and sweet. “I see you are very busy, Mr. Bradshaw. Perhaps I should call back later?”
Tom felt himself start to wither. He did not dare look up. He had a very bad feeling now, replacing the transcendent bliss of a few moments before. He could sense his plans diminishing with the same rapidity as his erection.
Harriet was screaming now. Tom wanted to cover his ears because it was so piercing.
Then matters got considerably
