Toby went ahead and held it open.
Louisa tipped her head at Toby in gracious yet haughty thanks. As she started up the stairs, she mused, “Sadly, I won’t be able to appear at these card parties—”
“Thank God you realize that,” Drake muttered.
Louisa shot him a glittering, narrow-eyed glance. “Of course I realize that. But I will need to be there, in the house with you—who also cannot appear for much the same reason—in case there are any last-minute glitches that Ellen, Julia, and the estimable Mrs. Secombe can’t resolve.” Louisa arched her brows. “Incidentally, I don’t know if you entirely believed her, but I’m quite sure Rose’s promise to behave—to perform as required, as you phrased it—will stretch only so far. If any alternative offers, she’ll grab it.”
Toby nodded. “That was my reading of her, too.”
Drake humphed. “We’re all so cynical, but yes, I agree. I wouldn’t trust Rose any further than we absolutely must.”
To accommodate Louisa, they’d been climbing slowly; as they neared the head of the stairs, Toby said, “One thing we haven’t discussed—what about the counterfeit notes?”
Puzzled, Drake glanced at him. “They’re here, in the safe.”
“Yes, I know,” Toby said. “But will that work, given that any communication from the mastermind will go to Goffard Hall?”
Drake frowned, stepped off the stairs, and halted in the gallery.
Toby halted, too, and went on, “Just think—sometime after the third card party, the mastermind is going to send Rose a message. If he’s half as clever as you’ve painted him and immovably set on giving no one any chance to recognize him, then surely he’s going to give Rose very little time before having to come out and meet him?”
“Hah!” Louisa had been listening intently. “No time to think too much, let alone inform anyone of her excursion.”
“Exactly!” Toby looked at Drake. “In his shoes, isn’t that what you would do?”
Drake grimaced. “Touché.”
“And,” Toby went on, “we want Rose to hand the mastermind the counterfeit notes so we can capture him with the most incriminating evidence in his hands.”
Drake hesitated, then nodded decisively. “You’re right. Remind me on Friday next, after the second party, to take the counterfeit notes to Goffard Hall. Kirkpatrick will assuredly have a safe in which we can leave them.”
With that, the trio said their goodnights and made for their respective beds.
Strolling hand in hand, Christopher and Ellen reached the long pool in the Bigfield House shrubbery.
Christopher glanced at Ellen’s face, wondering; he didn’t want to make any incorrect assumptions.
As if feeling his gaze, she glanced sidelong up at him, then a sweet smile curved her lips, and with a confident tilt to her head, she tugged on his hand and drew him on.
Into the house, to her room and her bed.
Throughout the day, adjusting to their new relationship had come more easily than he’d anticipated, and judging by her bright smiles and laughing encouragement, she had found falling into the way of things as natural and as effortless as he. When she flung herself at him, he caught her; when he bent his head, she raised her face, and when their lips met and they kissed, that ineffable sense of promise flowered.
Eagerness, relief, delight, and a fizzing sense of joy—a wonder that this was truly real, truly theirs—infused the long minutes that followed. Acting as one, with one mind, one aim, they devoted themselves to exploring anew the landscape of passion and desire that opened up between them.
His hands traced, caressed, and sculpted, and his lips followed, tracing each line, each curve, with heated adoration.
Her fingers tangled and clenched in his hair, then released and, driven, splayed and swept over his shoulders, over his chest, exploring and learning, searching and possessing. When they closed about his length, his breath stuttered, then he found her slick softness and stroked, and she melted in his arms.
Desire-induced gasps and passion-laden sighs shivered through the night air as they battled to prolong the scintillating moments, yet no matter how they fought to dally, to savor the path and delay the inevitable, the compulsion to become one swelled, and soon they had joined and were racing, hearts thundering, as they strove to reach that elusive peak and the splendor that lay beyond.
Exquisite and overpowering, completion caught them, wracked them, shattered them, and ultimately, flung them free, buoyed on oblivion’s pleasured sea.
Uncounted minutes later, Christopher’s wits returned enough for him to gather his strength and lift from Ellen’s arms enough to slump beside her. Already asleep, she murmured incoherently and turned to snuggle against him, pillowing her head in the hollow beneath his shoulder.
He looked down at her face, its perfection made only more glorious by the rosy flush of desire that had yet to fade. Something in him shifted; it felt as if some lock had clicked shut. For long minutes, he allowed his eyes to feast while a host of emotions, some new, others familiar, swirled contentedly inside him.
Nothing felt wrong or even out of place; everything felt right—as it was meant to be.
As he was meant to be.
Finally, he laid down his head and drew her deeper into his arms. He closed his eyes, certain beyond question that being there—beside her—was his fated place.
As sleep beckoned and he sank into the mists, one thought still shone in his mind: Being with her had filled the empty nooks and crannies of his soul.
The yawning emptiness within that he’d consciously carried over the past year was no more.
After all the years, with her, he’d finally learned the true meaning of contentment—of perfect peace.
Chapter 16
For Ellen, Sunday began with a hurried breakfast, followed by the drive to church.
Christopher was waiting in the porch to walk in with her, Emma, and Robbie; he sat beside her, and they shared a hymnal as they raised their voices in gratitude to their maker—and shared glances that lent that gratitude a new dimension.
After congratulating Reverend Thornley on his sermon, she and Christopher joined Emma and Robbie in making a beeline for Julia Kirkpatrick and her father, already on the lawn.
Ellen exchanged a smile and a nod with Mr. Kirkpatrick.
Christopher shook the older man’s hand. “How are you and the household managing, sir?”
Mr. Kirkpatrick folded his hands over the head of his cane. “We are holding the fort, Mr. Cynster. The staff have been a great support.”
Robbie had been consulting with Julia. Now, he looked at Mr. Kirkpatrick and asked, “Sir, Julia has mentioned that she would love to ride more. Would you consent to me escorting her on a jaunt around the lanes before luncheon?”
Mr. Kirkpatrick frowned slightly. “Just the pair of you?”
That had been Robbie’s intention, but clearly that would be a step too far for Julia’s father.
Christopher caught Ellen’s eye. “If Miss Martingale would enjoy the outing, perhaps she and I might join you.”
“Would you?” Robbie looked ridiculously grateful. He swung his gaze to Ellen. “Sis?”