She took it, scooting back to brace against the headboard. As she drank the first few warming sips, he fetched a hunk of buttered bread and sat again beside her. He broke off bites of it, one for her, one for himself, alternating as he spoke.
“I believe that Timothy has been taken by a group who provides young men to those who”—he paused, and every muscle tensed as he continued—“like bedding them. They prey on people who are of age but look younger. It satisfies their... desires... but gives them an illusion of consent. They are a closed community, highly lucrative and secretive, and subject to blackmail as well as arrest. I know about one group, but the location of their assignations changes with the wind. You do not simply walk up to the door and offer them money. Payment, indeed, is often something that can be traced to the man, making blackmail even more likely. It is an insidious system.”
“Lucy said that’s why you confronted Morgan.”
Robert nodded. “I know with certainty he is involved with the purveyors.”
“But he is now in prison.”
Robert looked away her, his gaze turned toward the window. “Yes.”
“I’m sorry.”
He glanced down, swallowed hard, then straightened and offered her another bite of bread. “Eat.”
“You are making me feel like some kind of ancient queen on a barge.”
His eyebrows arched. “And I am your devoted servant?”
“This could be arranged.”
He grinned and took a bite himself.
“So how am I helping?”
He settled back into the explanation. “Attendance at the parties where these... meetings... occur is by invitation only. They have to know in advance that’s what you want. They have to have heard through their own grapevine that your proclivities lean toward what they have to offer. The best way to get inside is to let them discover that about you.” He stopped, letting his words linger in the air.
The understanding blindsided Eloise, and she sat up straight, almost spilling the coffee left in her cup. “That’s why you wanted me at the funeral! To make people think I was your male lover!” A twinge of betrayal tickled the back of her mind, but his next words calmed it.
He nodded slowly. “Yes. Because since you came to Ashton House to ask for my help, Timothy has not been far from my mind either. I intended to... pursue this tactic... although I wasn’t sure how to achieve it at first—”
“Until I showed up at Campion’s dressed as a man.”
“Truthfully, I was not sure you could succeed at that.”
She scowled. “And why not?”
He tilted his head as he gazed at her. “My dear lady, have you looked in the mirror lately?”
“I know my mother tells me men do not look at me because I look too much like them, especially from behind.”
Robert’s eyes dulled and his lips tightened into a thin line, the corners turned down. He scrubbed one hand over his mouth and jaw. His words finally emerged from between clenched teeth. “Apparently, your mother has a complete lack of understanding about how men see women.” He stood and took her mug, returning it and the bread to the tray. “I can assure you that if men are not drawn to you, it has nothing to do with your looks and everything to do with what comes out of your mouth. Your intelligence is enough to send most of the men of thetonhieing for the hills, since they have no sense themselves. Any man who does not see the value in both your beauty and your mind is a fool. But so many men are.”
He returned to the bed. He took her left hand, pressed it open, palm up, and traced the stains that discolored her fingertips and the heel of her palm. “Likewise, I am a fool in many ways. But not in this. You are one of the most unusual women I have ever met. You comfort me. You intrigue me.” Robert reached down and tugged at the sheet.
Eloise, her thoughts on Timothy, felt unexpectedly shy, and she clung to it.
He grinned, pulling harder. “Liar,” he whispered.
“I should be—”
He kissed her. “You are doing all you can.”
Eloise gazed up at him. Despite the nagging of her conscience, her desire for this man flowed through her, a consuming river. She craved his touch, the very sight of him. She reached up and looped a finger inside the V-shaped gap in his shirt. “You first.”
The braces slid off with a quick jerk, and the shirt was up and over his head with a flip of his hands. But as he reached for the fall of his trousers, Eloise reached for his hands with a shake of her head. “Let me.”
He stilled, looking down at her, his eyes half-closed. The sheet had fallen away with her movement, and she felt the room’s coolness flow over her. He moved his hands away from his waist and nodded.
