Elizabeth Hoyt - Scandalous Desires

She made one quick trip to Michael’s room and then opened the door to the corridor—and found Harry dozing in a chair. She’d only taken one step when his eyelids rose.

“Goin’ for a midnight stroll, are ye?” he asked amiably, but she wasn’t fooled. Harry was eyeing the small bag she carried her things in.

She squared her shoulders. “I’m going home, Harry.”

THE DAWN WAS just breaking when Mick rode up the lane to Windward House, weary in both mind and body. He’d found a ship for Bran easily enough—bound for the West Indies, a long voyage. The boy had said never a word to him all the long way to London. He’d seemed beaten in both mind and body and Mick hadn’t the heart to try and talk to him.

Putting Bran on that ship had been the last thing that had gone simply. Through bribery, guile, and sheer ruthlessness Mick had been able to enter the Vicar’s house—only to find Charlie Grady gone. Either the man had been warned or his damned luck had held out. Mick had been forced to slink away and hope for another opportunity to strike. So it was with a sense of welcome relief that he caught sight of the house.

He pulled his nag to a halt and sat just looking at it a moment. The early sun made the brick glow pinkish-orange. The green shoots around the foundation had lengthened and grown yellow buds. Soon the daffodils would bloom. Mick smiled tiredly. How he looked forward to showing Mary Darling the pretty flowers when they bloomed. He and the baby would pick a posy for Silence and present it to her and then the three of them would sit down to luncheon or tea or some other meal and he would listen as Silence chided him about his food being too rich while he tempted her with some exotic dainty.

God, it was good to be home.

Mick rode around the back and impatiently threw the reins to a sleepy groom. He went in through the kitchens, waving to Bittner and Mrs. Bittner, enjoying their morning tea. Lad, who’d been dozing by the hearth, stood and wagged his tail.

“Sir—” Bittner called as Mick strode past, but Mick didn’t stop.

He took the stairs two at a time and then paused at the top. Where was Harry? Damn it, if Harry or Bert were sleeping, he’d dock them their portion of the next haul.

Mick burst into Silence’s bedroom in a rush, only to pull up short when he saw that the bed was empty. He went through the connecting door to find that his room was empty as well. Only a pair of stockings were laid neatly on his pillow.

Mick stood a moment, staring at the stockings, an awful foreboding crawling up his spine. Slowly he picked them up. They were of different sizes, the heel of one completely wrong. He recognized them as the stockings Silence had knit in the carriage all the way from her sister’s house. They hadn’t been done when they’d arrived at Windward House, but now they obviously were, folded neatly as if they were a present.

For a moment Mick held the ugly stockings in his hand, his mind blank. With an effort he made his legs move, climbed up the stairs to the next floor, and checked the nursery.

A maid slept in the bed next to Mary’s empty cot.

Mick shook her awake roughly. “Where are they?”

The girl rubbed her eyes. “They went away in the night wi’ Mr. Harry and Mr. Bert, sir.”

But Mick was already turning away, dazed, disbelieving.

She’d left him. Silence had left him and taken Mary Darling with her.

Caire House in London was even more opulent than Lord Caire’s country estate. A week later Silence sat in one of the “lesser” sitting rooms in the fashionable town house, almost too afraid to move. All around her were elegant furnishings, fragile bric-a-brac, and plush carpets and drapes. Actually, she thought with a pang, the richness of the rooms reminded her a bit of Michael’s palace.

Except everything was terribly tasteful here.

She watched as Mary Darling played with a stack of wooden bricks that the housekeeper had found for her. The sight should’ve brought Silence joy: a happy, healthy baby innocently playing. But nothing seemed to bring her joy anymore. Silence sighed, propping her chin in her hand. What was the matter with her? She’d lived well enough, contentedly enough, before Michael. Could she not do so again?

A maid entered the sitting room. “Would you like some tea, ma’am?”

Silence pasted on a smile. “Tea would be lovely. And could you make a pot for Mr. Harry and Mr. Bert, too, please?”

The little maid blushed and rolled her eyes. “They’ve already had two pots of tea this morning. Cook is spoiling them something awful.”

One corner of Silence’s mouth curled up at the thought of Harry and Bert wheedling treats from the female servants in the kitchen. Both Harry and Bert guarded her now, as well as a half dozen of Michael’s crew. The men had simply appeared the morning after Silence had knocked on the door of Temperance’s London home. She was lucky, since neither Caire nor Temperance were in residence, that the housekeeper knew her by sight.

Silence twitched at a thread on her old brown dress. Apparently Michael had moved quickly to safeguard her and Mary Darling when he found them gone. Silence was grateful, if a little guilty, to have the guards. She could just see one of Michael’s pirates lounging outside the sitting room as the door swung closed behind the maid.

Harry had given Silence strict orders to stay inside Caire House until Michael dealt with the Vicar. Such a restriction might’ve made her restless in the past, but no longer. She couldn’t seem to find the enthusiasm to do much of anything.

There was a commotion from the front hallway and Mary Darling looked up.

Temperance swept into the sitting room a moment later. “Goodness! Where did all these brutish men come from?”

“They’re guards.” Silence wrinkled her nose apologetically. “Michael insisted on them.”

“Well, I should hope so!” Temperance crossed to Silence and gave her a hug before pulling back and looking in her face. “How are you, dear?”

Silence bit her lip to keep it from trembling. “Fine. I’m sorry to have taken over your home.”

“Don’t be silly,” Temperance said.

The maid returned with a tray of tea and Temperance waved for her to put it on a low table in front of the settee.

“Thank you, Perkins,” Temperance said as she sat on the settee beside Silence. She waited for the maid to leave before turning to her sister. “I take it that you’re not safe yet.”

Silence grimaced. “No. Not while the Vicar is still alive.”

“Which brings me to the subject of how you left Caire’s country estate,” Temperance said.

Silence winced. “I’m sorry.”

“We spent hours searching for you and Mary Darling,” Temperance said in a much too calm voice as she poured the tea. “It wasn’t until one of the maids confessed that she’d glanced out a window and saw you walking away with a ‘tall, handsome as sin man,’ that we realized what had happened. I was all for traveling at once to London, but Caire persuaded me to wait a bit.” Temperance gave her a jaundiced look. “I think he rather feared what I might do to you.”