Perilous Princess: A Sexy Historical Romance Page 13

  Rhys drew in a sharp breath, his fingers tightening their grip. “Lord, that feels good.”

  Anna repeated the movement, her pleasure gathering again, her nerves fluttering. “The book?” she pressed.

  “What you’re doing is driving the details completely out of my mind,” he muttered.

  She grew very still, looking down at him.

  Rhys’ eyes widened in surprise. Then he grinned. “I might be able to recall the book with a little coaxing,” he suggested.

  Anna laughed. She wouldn’t have been able to remain so still for much longer, not with him inside her like that. She rolled her hips and moaned at the sensation.

  “Ah…” Rhys’ voice was thick with his own excitement and his fingers dug into her flesh. “The book—”

  “Forget the book,” she told him, as her climax began to build, deep in the pit of her belly.

  * * * * *

  The light of dawn played over her face and the chittering of sparrows outside the window woke Anna properly, to find Rhys lying up against her back, his arm over her waist and his hand cupping her breast.

  She remembered, suddenly, that tonight they would have to face all of society at the ball, but while she laid here with Rhys’ arm around her, the idea didn’t hold any of the fear it had before Rhys had come home to her burnt toast and runny eggs.

  She smiled as the sun played on her flesh. Nothing would spoil this day, not after waking like this.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Ma’am, I believe you might be about to ‘ave a visitor,” Jilly called from her seat by the table in front of the window, where the good light let her sew more efficiently. The roses had been placed on top of the sideboard, instead. Jilly was watching through the window.

  Anna looked up from her seat by the fire and the very interesting book Rhys had left behind for her to read when he had left for work. “Don’t let Jilly see it,” he had warned her. “She’ll be shocked into next month and might even tender her resignation over such scandalous subject matter.”

  Anna had been careful to keep the cover and the spine hidden against her knees and had contrived to close the book whenever Jilly passed by as she moved about the house completing her morning tasks.

  She found reading difficult without her spectacles, which were still in her father’s house. But some of the diagrams within were clear enough and very frank, with none of the relevant details left out like so many of the medical texts Anna had consulted. Her education into human affairs was leaping ahead this day and her thoughts were already turning to the evening and the possibilities that waited ahead.

  Now Anna looked at Jilly, pulling her thoughts away from her reading with a degree of reluctance. “A visitor?” she asked blankly. “I’m not at home this morning, am I?”

  “I wouldn’t know, ma’am,” Jilly replied. “You ‘aven’t sent out any letters that I know of.”

  Anna got to her feet. She was wearing a perfectly respectable wrapper rather than a morning dress and her undergarments beneath.

  There was a heavy knock at the door. They didn’t have a bell pull for there was little need for one. A simple knock could be heard throughout the house.

  “Would you mind answering the door, Jilly?” she asked, glancing around the little room for anything that was out of place, but Jilly had already straightened up the room after breakfast.

  “Of course I don’t mind,” Jilly said stoutly, putting down her mending. She stepped over to the heavy front door and opened it, a small smile of welcome on her face.

  Anna’s father stood on the doorstep, his eyes bloodshot and his cravat awry. His hair, normally always groomed and sleek, was in disarray, as if he had been exerting himself. Perhaps he had been, for his face was very red.

  Anna gasped, horror curling through her innards, making her feel very cold.

  “Yes, sir?” Jilly asked politely.

  He raised his cane as he saw Anna where she was getting to her feet. He pointed the silvered end of the cane at her. “You!”

  Jilly moved out of the way, looking back over her shoulder toward Anna. “Ma’am?” she asked, her eyes wide.

  “Jilly, go to the kitchen and shut the door,” Anna said.

  Her father pushed his way past Jilly, making her squeal in alarm. He was heading for Anna, the cane still raised. “You strumpet! Bedding yourself down with a common man…you shame me!”

  Anna took a step back and realized there was nowhere to run to. The only room with a lock was their bedroom and the lock on that wasn’t very stout and wouldn’t hold against her father’s rage. Besides, that would leave Jilly alone and unprotected. At least in her father’s house, Anna had never had to worry about servants falling foul of his temper if she hid away, because there weren’t any left in the house at night, which was when the madness usually struck.

  Quite suddenly, Anna was tired of hiding. She didn’t want to run away any more. Before she had met Rhys she had felt very alone. Running and hiding had seemed like her only options. But Rhys had shown her how to escape. He had shown her the way out.

  She wouldn’t run away from that. Her instincts said that if she did, she would spend the rest of her life running and hiding. Her father or her uncle or the threat of either of them would follow her forever.

  Her father was stumbling, clearly very drunk. His English came to a stuttering halt and he began to swear in German, calling her names that Anna had never heard before. It was as if, now she had escaped his influence, he was even more determined to deal with her ‘waywardness’.

  Or perhaps he simply didn’t like that she had escaped him.

  Anna picked up the poker and gripped it hard. She didn’t raise it until it was clear her father had no intention of halting a decent few paces away from her. His cane swung up even higher and his eyes narrowed as he tried to judge his aim and distance.

  Anna raised the poker and brought it down. Hard.

  The shaft thudded into the soft flesh of her father’s corpulent shoulder and he bellowed his fury. His curses and name-calling intensified.

  “Jilly, call a cab! Quickly!” Anna cried out. She saw the tails of Jilly’s apron lift and flutter as Jilly bolted through the front door.

  As her father reached for her throat, Anna brought the poker down once more. This time, his cane got in the way. There was a sharp crack and a splintering sound. The top half of the cane with the heavy silver cap fell to the floor with a thud.

  Anna swung again and this time the poker hit him in the upper arm, but by now, his fingers were closing about her throat.

  Anna reared backward, almost tripping over the armchair that had been behind her, which probably saved her life. She fell backward, her arms flailing. The poker dropped to the floor and she twisted in mid-air and fell against the arm of the chair, propping herself up with both arms.

  She pushed herself up and sideways, as her father tumbled face-down into the cushions of the chair, his balance gone. He roared, the sound muffled by the cushions.

  Anna didn’t stay to watch him get to his feet. She picked up her reticule, raced for the door, pulled the key out of the lock and slammed the door shut. Quickly, she turned the key, locking the door. If her father was very determined, he would break a window. Or his driver, Sawby, would let him out. But the door would stop him pursuing her for now.

  “Lady Anna!” Jilly called from the edge of the footpath. She stood beside a hansom, her hand on the cab door, which was open and waiting. The driver was clicking and touching the horses’ backs with his whip, keeping them quiet, for the roaring and the sound of things smashing and breaking were very loud and were alarming the creatures.

  “‘urry!” Jilly cried, beckoning with her other hand.

  Anna pushed Jilly toward the cab. “You, too.”

  “Me? But…” Jilly climbed in, as Anna shoved harder.

  Anna looked up at the driver. “The offices of Mertens, Wormwood, Thomas & Riber on Chancery Lane!” she called to him. He nodded and glanced
toward the house, where the sounds were increasing. Her father was taking his revenge upon the contents of her house.

  Better a broken chamber pot than a broken head.

  She climbed into the cab and picked up Jilly’s hand and held it, as the cab lurched into motion, the horses skittering nervously into a fast pace.

  “You were wonderful, my lady,” Jilly whispered. She was shaking. Anna could feel the trembling in her hand. “‘oo was that man?”

  “My father,” Anna said quietly. “The Prince of the former principality of Saxe-Coburg-Weiden,” she added.

  “Your father?” Jilly breathed, horror showing in her wide eyes. “But…the things ‘e was saying, my lady….”

  “Yes, I know,” Anna said gently. “What you saw was but a small taste of what I have lived with since I was a small child. If you have ever wondered why I would consider marriage to a common man, Jilly, there lies at least one answer for you.”

  Jilly pressed her lips together, controlling her reaction. Her solemn brown eyes were filled with an emotion that Anna thought might be pity. But her next words demonstrated that it wasn’t pity at all. “You did your ‘usband proud, my lady,” she said firmly. “Standing up to the Prince that way…that shows where your loyalty lies, right where it should be, with your ‘usband.”

  Anna sat back. “Is that what I did?” she asked curiously. “I simply didn’t want to put up with such treatment anymore.”

  Rhys had been the reason for her resistance, though.

  She sat back in the corner of the carriage, her thoughts churning heavily.

  When they reached the offices, Anna gave Jilly the coins to pay the driver, while she hurried into the building. She had never been here before, but Rhys had described the building well enough and there was a well-lettered sign over the windows proclaiming the partnership, which told her she was in the right place.

  The first room she entered was filled with high, sloping desks, each of them with a clerk sitting on a stool, bent forward over documents arrayed on the desktop. She paused just inside the door as every face peered around the desks to look at her. She realized then that she was still wearing her wrapper, with no shawl or cloak, hat or gloves. Thank goodness she had donned her undergarments this morning! The petticoats gave the wrapper a degree of respectability, but any other woman would recognize it for what it was—a housecoat.

  There was a cough and someone cleared their throat.

  “‘elp you, miss?” came the enquiry.

  “I wish to speak with Mr. Rhys Davies,” she said firmly.

  Jilly stepped up behind her. “Find Mr. Davies immediately,” she said to the nearest lad. “Can’t you see that the lady is in distress?”

  The boy slid off his stool, wiping his hands of ink with a stained cloth. “At once, ma’am,” he said stiffly and turned to hurry through the desks with a quick step.

  The rest of the men in the room went back to their business, although they continued to glance in her direction, discreetly watching her. Anna kept her hands folded over the handle of her reticule, gripping it tightly. Her heart was hurrying along too fast for simply standing there and she felt mildly ill.

  “Anna! What on earth are you doing here?” Rhys said from behind her. Anna whirled, startled beyond belief. Rhys stood in the corridor beyond the doorway she was standing in, a portly gentleman with rounded red cheeks next to him.

  Rhys moved over to her, his expression puzzled, but there was amusement there, too. And…and some other emotion she couldn’t fathom, for she found herself in his arms, her hands gripping the edges of his coat, her head against his shoulder. She began to shake, as Jilly poured out the story in short, quick sentences.

  “She ‘eld him off, right and proper,” Jilly finished. “But I don’t blame ‘er for ‘er weakness now. It was terrible!”

  Rhys pulled Anna out of the doorway into the corridor. “Can we use your office, Mr. Wormwood?”

  “Of course. Of course. There’s brandy there, too. That’s just the ticket to get her strength back.”

  “I think, Mr. Wormwood,” Rhys said as he led Anna along the corridor, his arm around her still, “that it might be wise to call for a policeman and have the constabulary investigate my house.”

  Wormwood cleared his throat, sounding troubled. “You may be right, Davies,” he said, his voice strained. “Oh dear, oh dear….”

  Rhys led Anna into a well-appointed office with highly polished furniture and a colorful carpet on the floor. He lowered her into a soft chair in the corner and crouched down in front of her, looking into her eyes. “Would you like brandy?” he asked.

  There was a furrow between his brows and his eyes were troubled.

  Anna shook her head. “I think too much liquor was the start of this whole problem,” she whispered. “My father reeked of it.”

  “You don’t mind if we involve the police?”

  Anna made herself smile at him. “I thank you for asking. I should have brought the police into this a long time ago. If we don’t stop him now, Rhys, he will never stop.”

  Rhys cupped his hand to her face. “That was my thought exactly,” he said, with a small smile of his own. “We must end this, once and for all. You have a singular intelligence behind your beauty, my lovely one.” He pressed his lips to her cheek, then stood up, while Anna dealt with the warm flood of feeling his compliment had given her.

  “Do you want Jilly to attend you?” he asked, but it seemed to her that his thoughts were far away from here. There was tension in him, as if his thoughts were not pleasant ones.

  “Do send Jilly in,” Anna told him. “She was very frightened and would be better with company. Would it be possible to have some tea?”

  “I’ll have one of the clerks arrange it,” he said distantly. Then he seemed to refocus upon her. “Make yourself comfortable. I’m going to head back to the house with a bobby or two and deal with this.”

  She caught at his hand and held it and Rhys looked back at her, surprised, as if his thoughts had already moved on.

  “Please be careful. My father is very strong and when he is…when the madness has him in its grip, he is utterly ruthless.”

  Rhys caught her face in his hands, the heat of his fingers registering against her flesh. “I’ll be careful.”

  His promise was reassuring. He might have done what many men she knew would have—dismissed her concerns as womanly vapors and said something about his own strength, which Anna knew was considerable. But instead, he had promised to be cautious.

  Truly, Rhys was a considerate man.

  * * * * *

  Rhys returned late that afternoon and he brought with him two men in badly fitting suits and two policemen, their capes and caps sodden, for it had begun to rain shortly after the noon hour and the rain was still falling.

  The thick, dark clouds had made the afternoon unnaturally dim and Jilly had lit the lamp sitting upon Mr. Wormwood’s desk and brought it over to the little table beside their chairs. They had read by the lamp light. One of the clerks, who had introduced himself as James, had brought them tea and later on, a piece of fruit cake that they had shared between them.

  Around those small interruptions the day had wound on slowly, leaving them with nothing but their thoughts and any conversation they made to distract them, until Anna thought to walk the length of Mr. Wormwood’s bookcases and read the titles. Then she had plucked one from the shelf and settled back on the chair with it.

  Later, Jilly found a volume for herself.

  Anna was absorbed in a treatise on the law and social justice when Rhys returned with his company. Rhys shook the rain out of his hair and swept it back, as the two bobbies and the two strange men stared at Anna.

  “Gentlemen, give me the room,” Rhys said flatly.

  The bobbies glanced at the two gentlemen. One of them jerked his head toward the door and all four of them left the office silently, closing the door behind them.

  Rhys picked up Anna’s hand and drew her
to her feet.

  “I’ll excuse meself,” Jilly murmured.

  “No, stay,” Rhys told her. “You must hear this, too.”

  Jilly squeezed her hands together silently, watching him.

  “What is it, Rhys?” Anna asked. “Why do you look so strained? Was my father very difficult?”

  “He wasn’t there,” Rhys said. “When we arrived, the house was empty and the front door was ajar. Mrs. Wampole, next door, said she thought your father’s driver let him out. The carriage was gone.”

  “He would have returned home,” Anna said quickly. “He always does.” That was because she had always been there for him to find, until today, when he had come looking for her, instead.

  “We went to your father’s house,” Rhys said. “The same wreckage was there.” He grimaced. “I think your father has been drinking for a while. Days, perhaps. There was not a whole piece of furniture anywhere in the house, except for your mother’s bedroom, but the door to the room was locked.”

  Anna nodded. Her mother had learned how to protect herself just as Anna had. But the news that her room was untouched was a relief to her, anyway.

  Rhys gripped her arms. “It didn’t end there,” he said softly.

  “You found my father,” she guessed.

  He nodded. His gaze was not shifting from hers, forcing her to look at him. “He’s dead, Anna,” he said, his voice very gentle.

  Jilly drew in a shocked breath, her hand over her mouth.

  Anna blinked. There was a roaring sound in her head, muffling every sound. “Dead?” she repeated.

  “Murdered,” Rhys said.

  “Oh…”

  She realized that she was sitting back in her chair. Rhys must have put her there. He was crouched in front of her again, watching her.

  Anna drew in air that was hot and thick and made her head pound. “Who killed him?” she made herself ask.

  “They don’t know for sure,” Rhys said. “I called the police to the house as soon as I found the body and they have been investigating ever since.”

  “Then you didn’t take a policeman with you to our house?”