Page 11 of Only Pleasure Will Do

Chapter 4

Reginald Matthews, newly minted Magistrate, wasn’t a man given to weakness nor flights of fancy. He’d earned his position through ten years of hard, dedicated work first under Henry Fielding and later under his brother, Sir John. A methodical man, he’d been considered well-suited to the profession of Bow Street Runner, being deemed astute, well-educated, intuitive, and physically fit for the very demanding position.

Then why had strange, lewd thoughts overcome him as soon as he laid his hands on Amorina Vestry’s small shoulders?

He’d met the woman over a year ago during the investigation of his distant cousin’s kidnapping. That meeting had stirred enough emotional and physical responses to the attractive Madam Vestry that he’d made it a point to steer clear of any dealings with her or the House of Pleasure. Not that he hadn’t thought about the woman’s sleek, sensual form during that time. Far from it. The memory of her walking ahead of him in that scarlet robe—its fabric undulating as her hips swayed from side to side, giving him glimpses of her bare legs—had haunted his sleepless nights.

Now here she was, gazing at him in nothing more than a dirty chemise, licking her lips as though she wanted to taste him—the exact feeling he’d gotten in her presence last year. And they were locked together in this basement. Alone.

Her eyes, the deepest brown he’d ever seen, almost black even in the morning light, bored into him with a soul-deep longing he’d only glimpsed a few times, in women enthralled with their man.

Abruptly, he dropped his hands from her shoulders and strode back to the staircase. About to bound up the steps, Reginald glanced back at her and forced himself instead to slow his pace. He didn’t want her to think he was running away from her. Even if he was. Not that he wouldn’t enjoy the attentions of the most notorious madam in London, but, dash it, he was supposed to be her rescuer. Such a tryst would be highly unprofessional and steer their relationship off in a vastly different direction than it should go. Not to mention he would need quick wits and a clear head to get them out of this pickle.

Heart pumping hard from the exertion, not from Madam Vestry’s proximity, he bent to inspect the hinges once more. Damn. No way to prize the nails out of the lasts. Neither could they crawl out of the windows. Of course, with the room sunk into the ground, they might tunnel out, if they had weeks to accomplish it. Never had he been so bereft of options. Shaking his head, Reginald walked heavily back down the stairs to stand in front of Madam Vestry.

“After another check of the door, I must unfortunately conclude that there’s only one logical course for us to follow to break out of this jail.” Reginald spoke authoritatively but avoided her eyes. “We must wait until the jailors come to deliver the food then overpower them and make our escape. It would be best if we wait until evening so there’s only the lad to deal with. As soon he opens the door, I’ll rush out and subdue him.” He cocked his head. “You are certain no one comes with him?”

“I’ve never seen or heard anyone other than the lad in the evenings.” Vestry shrugged. “I have no idea why they send Samuel with the gun in the morning, but not in the evening.”

Whatever the rhyme or reason, it served their purpose. “As soon as we are free, we make for the tree line on the south side of the driveway.”

The woman frowned. “I was brought here during the night. I have no idea—”

“Stay beside me and do exactly as I tell you.” Did she truly think if he managed to get them out of this room, he’d let her get lost on the estate? “Unless they’ve discovered it, my horse is hidden in the trees about a mile up the main road. From there, we can ride double until we get to Dartford. I’ll notify the constable there then we can hire a carriage to take you back to London.”

By the pinched look on Madam Vestry’s face, she did not like the sound of the plan.

“You have an objection, madam?”

“Not an objection, no.” She turned from him and moved toward the table, her chemise lit from behind by the sunlight, suddenly revealing the entire shape of her legs.

Reginald swallowed and glanced away. “Then what?”

“I’m simply not convinced it will be that easy.” Madam Vestry continued to walk around the table, knotting her fingers together as she spoke. “Perhaps since you are now here, they will send Samuel with the gun in the evening as well to make sure we do not attempt an escape.”

An astute observation. “In such circumstances, the plan does not alter. We will need to ascertain whether or not Samuel is outside with the lad. If not, we proceed as I have just outlined. If so, when the door opens, I will rush Samuel.”

“What?” Her horrified voice rose, and she darted toward him, grabbing his arm. “You cannot do that. You could be killed.”

“A chance I must take if we are to leave this place before Redmond acts.” He slipped her fingers away from his sleeve and squeezed them before letting them go. He somehow couldn’t think when she touched him. At least not about anything relating to their escape. “The element of surprise will work to my advantage, and we have no idea whether Samuel is proficient with a pistol or not. In that we shall have to trust to luck.”

She heaved a sigh, sat down on the chair, and wrapped her arms around her legs, her face no longer animated, but forlorn. “I’m sorry I brought you into this wretched business, Sir Reginald. I would not have your blood on my conscience.”

“Nor will it be, ma’am.” He spoke cheerfully. It never helped to think other than positively when going into battle. “I believe we will carry the day, and before another has passed, you’ll be safe back in London, in your own bed.”

His final word reverberated in the rising heat of the morning. He met Madam Vestry’s gaze and a warmth rushed to his face that had nothing to do with the sun’s rays brightening the room. The tension between them shimmered like a live thing until she broke their mutual gaze to stare at the floor.

Reginald bit his lip and looked away. The stakes in these circumstances could not have been higher. If his plan didn’t work or the jailors never came, what the hell was he going to do when night fell, leaving him alone in the dark with the forbidden temptress he’d sell his soul to possess?

* * * *

Sitting on the chair staring steadfastly at the floor calmed Amorina a measure, thank God, allowing her mind to work again. Even glancing at Sir Reginald had a detrimental effect on her thought processes, not to mention the physical responses to him she couldn’t control. Only one other time had she been so infatuated with a man that she’d had no choice but to let her passions rule her. There was no time, and this certainly was not the place, for such a lack of discipline. Best think rationally while she could.

“While you were seeking out Mr. Redmond, were you able to come up with a theory about why he had me kidnapped?” Amorina raised her head but was careful to avoid looking at Sir Reginald. “I know it has to be some type of revenge for my thwarting his plans, however, what does he expect to do to me?” The options, unfortunately, were grim. “Does he simply mean to kill me, do you think?”

“Doubtful.” Matthews spoke from the opposite side of the room, where he’d gone to sit on the stairs, the only other place in the room he could do so. “If he’d just wanted you dead, he could’ve simply arranged for the men who kidnapped you to slit your throat instead and throw your body in the river.”

Amorina shrank back. “Are you always so blunt, Sir Reginald?”