A Gentleman's Honor (Bastion Club 2)

She started to tense; he deepened the kiss, just enough to distract her, to fracture her attention long enough to let him explore further. To reach higher and find her, swollen and fever-damp, hot enough to scald.

Slow. Step by step.

He forced himself to do no more than touch her, to find the tiny nubbin within the folds and caress, but go no further.

Tiny shivers of sensation coursed through her as he stroked, gently pressed. He knew what he might do, knew the potential, but sensed she wasn’t ready for that yet.

Alfred Carrington must have been an insensitive clod.

He continued to touch her gently, undemandingly exploring, letting her grow accustomed to him touching her there, to the intimacy, mild to his mind though it was.

Step by step.

He let her surface by degrees, let her awareness rise free from the drugging kisses, until at the last he could raise his head and watch her face. Watch her lips, parted and swollen as he circled, then pressed lightly. Catch her eyes as he stroked, and she shuddered.

Then softly sighed.

She dropped her forehead to his shoulder. After a moment, said, “This is all so—”

She broke off. He stroked again, felt her shiver. “More than you expected?”

Against his shoulder, she nodded. “Much, much more.”

Satisfied with the way events were proceeding not just with Alicia but also with his investigation, Tony felt distinctly mellow, a prey to pleasurable anticipation as the next evening he went upstairs to change.

He’d reached the landing when a heavy knock fell on the front door.

He recognized the knock. Halting, he waited, one hand on the balustrade as Hungerford strode majestically to the door. He’d recognized the knock, too. He pulled open the door, revealing Maggs.

Hungerford looked down his nose. “I believe you know where the back entrance is?”

“’Course I do. Live here, don’t I?” Maggs lumbered in, his hat in his hands. “But I’m supposed to be Mrs. Carrington’s footman. If I came with a message, I wouldn’t come to the back door, would I?”

Turning back down the stairs, Tony straightened his lips. “What is it, Maggs?”

Maggs looked up. “Oh, there you be.” He hesitated, frown growing as Tony descended. As he gained the front hall, Maggs suggested, “You might want to hear this in private.”

Brows rising, Tony looked at Hungerford. “Thank you, Hungerford. I’m sure Maggs can see himself out.”

That last was said with a hint of understanding. Hungerford bowed stiffly. “Indeed, my lord. If you have need of anything, you have only to ring.”

“Thank you.” Tony turned to Maggs and waved to the study. Hungerford departed; Maggs opened the study door. Tony entered and went to sit behind his desk; closing the door, Maggs came to stand before it.

Maggs had been a stable lad at Torrington Chase when Tony had been a boy; he’d attached himself to the son of the house and followed him into the army. Whenever Tony had had need of a batman, Maggs had filled the position. He’d been a part of Tony’s life for longer than he could remember, and continued as his most trusted servant. Despite Maggs’s bruiser’s countenance, the man was intelligent, capable, and effective.

“What is it?” Tony asked.

Maggs’s frown hadn’t eased. “I don’t know as you’ll believe this, but the ladies, Mrs. Carrington and Miss Pevensey, are sitting down to dinner—well, they’d be near to finished by now—with a gentleman goes by the name of Mr. King. Wouldn’t’ve thought much of it ’cept I’ve seen him before, and I’d swear on my mother’s grave he’s Mr. King, the moneylender.”

Tony blinked. After a long moment of staring at Maggs, he nodded. “You’re right—I find that very hard to believe.”

Maggs sighed heavily. “Well, there you are. But Collier’s on watch at the corner, so you needn’t think I’ve deserted my post and left the lady unguarded.”

“Good.” Tony was finding it hard to focus his thoughts. Mr. King? As a dinner guest? He refocused on Maggs.

“What’s the relationship between Mr. King and the ladies? How did they react to him?”

“Friendly.” Maggs shrugged. “Nothing heavy-handed, if that’s what you’re thinking. They treated him like he was an old friend of the family.”