Regency Society Collection Part 1. Sarah Mallory

sucked in his breath. ‘Do that again, love. Yes, just like that. And again. You are heaven, for I never expected to feel something so good in this life. You did not think I would stop at once, if you let me have you. I am insulted.’

      More than once. He was right, there were things she needed to learn. He was large and he was hard for her again. Her excitement grew at the thought.

      He paused. ‘Let us try something new.’

      She wanted to argue that it was already new to her and quite good enough, when he had rolled so that she was lying on top of him.

      She froze in confusion, wondering what he wished her to do next. And she shifted up on to her elbows so she could look at him. And the feeling took her. And she shifted, again. And again. And then she drew her legs up under her, and he grabbed her by the waist and let her do as she would, whispering words of encouragement as she rocked herself to climax upon him. Then he steadied her hips and thrust upward, again and again before his back arched, and he called her name, and then he pulled her down to lie on top of him again.

      Their bodies were sweat slicked and chill in the darkness, and she shivered.

      He threw the sheet over her back and wrapped his arms around her.

      ‘You were right,’ she whispered. ‘That was even better.’

      ‘And that was just the beginning,’ he promised. ‘We can try again, if you let me rest for a few minutes.’

      ‘Minutes?’ she asked in surprise.

      ‘Or longer, if you wish.’ He paused. ‘I had rather hoped to stay the night, if you would allow it. I will be gone before dawn, of course. No one will see me.’ He paused again, as though he thought, after what had happened, that she still might have the strength to deny him.

      She snuggled into him, turned her face into his shoulder and kissed it. ‘Stay as long as you wish.’ Then she remembered her fears of the previous night. ‘As long as it is safe for you to do so. Barton is not still searching for you, is he?’

      ‘We are both safe from Barton. For a time, at least. He is not stalking me at the moment, and I hope he will have the sense to leave off bothering you, after the beating I gave him.’ His arm wrapped protectively around her to pull her closer. ‘So we should have several days of peace before Barton feels brave enough to try again. And I mean to spend every moment I can in your arms.’

       Chapter Fifteen

      Several days later, Tony was up early when Patrick brought him his breakfast tea, his pick working the lock mechanism in his practice safe. Barton’s lock would be keyed differently, but it would be good to have the confidence that picking the first lock might give him, and some idea of the total amount of time involved.

      And the time it had taken so far was considerable. He had been working on his own lock for several days without success, even though he could work unhindered and get hints from the shape of the key. Stanton was becoming restless. There had been a terse note, reminding Tony of the urgency of the situation, as if he did not know it himself. Much more time and the government would be forced to take action, and the rest of the story would play out in The Times, much to the embarrassment of all concerned.

      Patrick cleared his throat to announce breakfast.

      ‘Set the cup on the desk, Patrick.’

      Patrick was looking over his shoulder.

      ‘You may go.’

      ‘I wouldn’t dream of it. This is too interesting to miss.’

      ‘That is my repayment for rescuing you from certain hanging so many years ago. Continued insolence. I had been better off to hire a servant in the ordinary way, than to take a charity case from Newgate.’

      ‘And what would you have learned from this imaginary servant—how to polish your own boots? Have you tried oiling the lock?’

      ‘And it has done me no good, other than to make the pick slip.’

      ‘You could drill the lock out, and gain entry that way.’

      ‘If I wished to announce the theft. I assume that Stanton wanted this done discreetly. And it would take even more time to drill through the steel.’

      ‘Last night, were you attempting this at Barton’s home? What methods did you employ? Did he leave you to work in peace, the whole night? For you were gone until almost dawn.’

      Tony winced. He had gone to Barton’s home and observed the study window for a time, but, seeing light and movement in the room, he had given it up as a bad job. ‘He and I have come to an impasse, I fear. I have frightened him enough to keep him away from Constance. But now he will not leave his house, for fear of giving me a chance to enter. It is actually rather annoying, since it will make it difficult for me to finish the job, even if I can manage to open the safe.’

      ‘If you were not with Barton, then where have you been spending your time?’

      Tony cleared his throat. ‘I spent the evening with the duchess.’

      Behind him, Patrick chuckled. ‘You have had better luck unlocking her affections than you have had with Barton’s safe.’

      Tony laid his check against the cool metal of the safe door and grinned. He had meant to visit her briefly the previous evening, and then return to his work. But several hours later, he was too exhausted to rise in any way, begging the woman to leave off tormenting him, assuring her that he had not an ounce of strength left in his body for the things she was suggesting.

      And she had smiled at him, and rung for a bottle of champagne.

      She had ignored him as he had argued that the wine would do more damage than good. Then she had taken the glass from his hand and drunk deeply. And she’d kissed her way down his body, taking little sips of the wine, and he’d had the strange sensation of bubbles on his skin, along with the kisses.

      Then she had disappeared beneath the covers. And suddenly he was not nearly so exhausted as he had been moments before, and any plan he’d had of returning to Barton’s was long forgotten.

      He could hear the clink of the china as Patrick picked up the teacup and began to drink it himself. He glanced over his shoulder. His valet was balancing his hip on the corner of his master’s desk, and helping himself to a scone to go with his tea. He glared.

      Patrick shrugged. ‘The tea is getting cold, and you would only get butter on your hands if you had a scone. I will get you more, when you have opened the lock. So, tell me, does the dowager have a lady’s maid?’

      ‘Don’t be an idiot. Of course she does. And stop eating my breakfast.’

      ‘Tell me about her.’

      ‘I have been telling you about her for years.’ Although he couldn’t help but smile at the memory.

      ‘Not the duchess. The maid.’

      ‘She is just an ordinary maid. Not much in evidence, when I am there. Constance generally sends her to bed.’

      ‘The dowager is a most understanding and generous mistress, to be sure. I look forward to meeting her, again. And her maid, as well. Whose name is?’

      ‘Susan,’ Tony responded.

      ‘And I suppose she is old, pinch-faced, and sour tempered.’

      ‘She appears to me to be a most pleasant girl of twenty, blonde, somewhat plump and quite attractive.’

      Patrick offered a toast with his teacup. ‘To the fair Susan. Now that things are settled, and the duchess knows who you are, I can hope but to spend a happy future, below stairs with a beautiful blonde.’

      Tony swallowed and renewed his efforts with the lock. ‘Well. About that…’

      ‘You haven’t