“Indeed. I should recruit him to the Order.”
“Perhaps you should recruit Mr Flannery,” she said with some amusement. “He’s the one with a skill for snooping.”
Lucius opened the carriage door but didn’t usher Sybil inside.
“Did my mother arrive at the appointed time?” Lucius asked his coachman, who had been tasked with returning to Brook Street to gather information while they dined with the Wycliffs.
Oh, please say yes, Sybil silently pleaded.
Furnis nodded. “She asked to use your study to write a note.”
“Good God!” Lucius exclaimed. “Tell me Bower didn’t agree.” Mistrust rang loud.
Furnis squirmed. “The lady started crying. Was upset you weren’t there, sir. Bower stayed with her while she wrote the note.”
“Do you have it?”
“Aye.” Furnis reached into his greatcoat pocket, removed the unsealed note and handed it to Lucius who peeled back the folds and scanned the missive beneath the light of the carriage lamp.
“Robert is waiting at the Plough. Take us there,” Lucius said, thrusting the note into his coat pocket. He gave no sign he found the woman’s words distressing. Yet Sybil feared he would soon sink into a solemn mood. “When you return to Brook Street, inform Bower he’s to watch Sir Melrose Crampton. He’s to keep watch on his mansion house on Maddox Street. I want to know where he goes, what he does, who he speaks to.”
“Aye, sir.” Furnis sounded a little flustered.
Lucius assisted Sybil into the vehicle. Once inside, he rapped on the roof, and they were soon trundling through the streets.
She watched him in the darkness. Frustration and a host of other emotions took turns to distort his facial features. He hung his head and pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose.
Fear took command of her then.
What if his demons consumed him?
What if Julia Fontaine had not come to atone for her mistakes?
Sybil removed her hat while she waited for him to speak. Despite the cold, she unbuttoned her pelisse, for she had a sense he would need to hold her close tonight.
The act of undressing captured his attention. “It’s bitterly cold. You should gather the blanket, not remove layers.”
“Colder than it was in the attic.” The last time his demons were tugging on their leash. “Do you want to talk about what your mother wrote in the letter or would you prefer I pleasure you first?”
He studied her intently as she p
ulled down the blinds. “It takes but twenty minutes to reach the Plough.”
“Then we haven’t a moment to lose.” Doubt crept into her mind. “Unless you would rather sit in silence.”
Fire flashed in his eyes as he scanned her body. “I am but a slave to your wants and desires.” His voice was suddenly thick with lust.
Her mind scrambled over this unfamiliar terrain. This wasn’t about desire, about one being the master, one being the slave. This wasn’t about finding release. This was about two people who needed love in their lives.
The truth was one’s best friend, she reminded herself.
“I want to feel close to you, Lucius.” She swallowed down her nerves. “I want to sheath you, hold you so tight you can hardly breathe. I don’t want to feel empty anymore. I want to feel full, full with you.”
“Come here,” he said, the words a husky growl.
Sybil crossed the carriage. She hoisted her skirts and sat astride him. “Bury yourself in my body, Lucius. Let me love you.”
His warm mouth covered hers in an instant. He didn’t have to tease her lips apart. She opened for him, needed this wanderer to drink deeply. He did. And heaven help her, he was so thirsty, so parched. Their tongues mated, stroking, caressing, loving as their greedy moans filled the small space.