* * *
They lay in silence for a long time. He was glad she did not need a lot of chatting. The quiet held an intimacy that words might destroy. Finally, however, she rose up on her elbows and looked at him.
“Thank you.” Such depth in her eyes when she said that. “I think you were heroic again, in a different way. Not so careful.”
“Did I hurt you?”
She shook her head. “I liked it. Next time I don’t think you will have to be careful either.”
He had avoided thinking about a next time, since he had no standing to expect one. A new contentment settled on him with her words. She sat up, unconcerned with her nakedness this time, glorious in it, her breasts soft now that passion’s firmness had passed. He looked at her, and felt himself stirring again.
“It is time I left,” she said.
“Leave if you want, but you answer to no one.”
“Beth—”
“She knows where you are.”
“Yes, but—”
“She knew why you came, even if you did not.”
She just looked at him, then swung her leg and slid off his body and the bed.
“Before you dress completely, Minerva, go look out the front window at the place directly across the way where the two buildings meet.”
She pulled the chemise on and padded away. He heard her steps growing fainter as she entered the sitting room. Several minutes later the steps came back.
“When did you see him?”
“Early. Soon after you came.”
“He must have grabbed on to the back of my carriage when it left.”
“That or he jumped across roofs to stay ahead of you. He is fast and knows this town well. If he were not a partner in your inquiries, I might seek to make him one in mine.”
She picked up her dress and shook it out. “I did not tell him to do this. I hope you believe that.”
“It was his own initiative. He also knew why you were coming here, even if you didn’t. So he waits out there, listening, in case you changed your mind and I was not a gentleman about it.”
Her expression fell, as if she pictured the altercation that might have created. “I really should go, so he does not stand there until dawn.”
“You could just open the window and call down and tell him to go home.”
“As if I could do that on a street in this neighborhood.” She laughed and carried her stays over to the bed. “Help me with these, please.”
He sat on the side of the bed and aided her with the lacing. When she reached for her dress he did the same with his trousers and shirt. Together they became civilized again.
He drew her into his arms and embraced her closely. He kissed her, regretting that he would have to let her go. “You should settle this with him and his mother, Minerva. They do not have to trust me or like me. The decision is yours, though, and they do have to honor that.”
She nodded. A troubled little frown marred her loveliness. “What I told you earlier. I don’t really know anything. You have my word that I will not speak of it, or pursue it.”
Her promise touched him, especially since it might come at some cost to herself. She might claim she really did not know anything about Kevin, but in fact she did. So did he, but she had just offered him the choice of pretending he didn’t.
He brought her to the front door. “Stay here.” He went outside and walked right up to Jeremy, who all but blended into the shadows. He handed him some coins. “Go hire a carriage and bring her home.”
Jeremy just looked at him a moment, his expression unfathomable. Then he ran down the street.
Chapter Eighteen
Minerva found herself useless the whole day. She wandered around the house in a sated daze, her head full of memories of the night.
She had always known there were women who said they enjoyed physical intimacy. She had thought those claims hollow and more than passing strange. Now they made sense. Really made sense. Who wouldn’t enjoy that pinnacle of sensation? Presumably those women had married men who knew what they were about in bed. If there were shared affection, or even love, how much better just because of that.
That led her to asking herself if she and Chase had shared affection, at least while they kissed and embraced. She had to admit she felt some for him now, but she could not remember if she had before that night at Melton Park. If not, then such experiences perhaps could engender affection. She found that fascinating.
So engrossed was she in her thoughts that after their midday meal, one at which Jeremy had talked a lot but she had heard little, she dallied in the kitchen, barely noticing Beth cleaning the plates. She was still there when Beth sat down beside her.
“Now,” Beth said. “How did your call on Mr. Radnor go?”
She looked at Beth and saw that her old friend knew everything. Jeremy must have told her how long he stood outside, and how Chase had come out in dishabille and sent him for a carriage. How she had floated down to the conveyance still besotted, feeling like a metamorphosis had occurred.
“Our discussion went very well,” she said. “He was a little angry I had not confided in him, but he understood when I explained why.”
“Very sensible of him.”
“Wasn’t it? So I would describe our conversation as successful.”
“Would you now?”
“Yes. The whole visit was very successful.” She met Beth’s gaze squarely. “Actually, one part of it was nothing short of wonderful.”
Beth pushed herself up. “I’m glad to hear it. I’m happier than you will ever know. I’ll not speak a word against him from now on, unless he gives me fresh cause to do so.”
* * *
Brigsby being Brigsby said not a word about the night visitor. He merely set about adapting to the requirements she had created. He drew a bath in the morning, and plucked up the remnants of Chase’s clothing as if he found them strewn around the bedchamber all the time. He got Chase dressed for town, then served breakfast for one, not the two that Chase suspected he had initially arranged. He delivered the mail and the ironed newspaper.
Afterward, when Chase returned to his chamber and sat to write some letters, Brigsby arrived with a high stack of linens, and proceeded to change the bedclothes. Except for the unusual discarding of his own frockcoat in order to attend to the chore, one would think from his demeanor that his master had women in his bed on a regular basis.
Chase turned back to his letters. One had been easy to write. The second and third ones proved more difficult. There was little to be gained from putting them off, however, so he got through them just in time to hand the stack to Brigsby to be posted at once. No sooner had his valet left than he decided to write again. It promised to be a hellish day, but with luck it might end well.
At one o’clock he sent for his horse and rode to Gilbert Street, where Aunt Agnes lived. The butler escorted him to a small drawing room upstairs. In it he found both aunts sitting on opposite ends of a large divan. One looked to the wall and the other looked to the floor. The point, he gathered, was not to look at each other.
Dolores had remained in town after the infamous solicitor meeting, to campaign for her views on the matter. Twice she had written to him, demanding that he cajole Nicholas to see reason. Both times his response had been polite but firm. Nicholas already saw reason, and it was for Dolores to alter her opinion.