Page 29 of Only Pleasure Will Do

Chapter 13

Amorina’s mouth dried as though she’d stuffed it with cotton wool. She’d tried to convince herself she could complete the fiendish task set her by Tommy Redmond, to save Pearl and Reginald. She would sacrifice herself willingly and without hesitation. But now, with Lady Dalbury before her, holding the tiny baby in her arms, that conviction crumbled like so much sand.

“Madam Vestry? Is something wrong?” A puckered frown formed on Lady Dalbury’s forehead and she clutched the babe tighter.

The defensive gesture broke through Amorina’s frozen senses. In a moment, the lady would likely call for a servant and she needed to speak to the woman alone. Forcing a smile, she shook her head. “No, my lady. I simply had not realized you’d already had your child. He…is it he?…seems a bonny babe.”

The marchioness relaxed, her smile returning, broader than before. “Thank you. Yes, it is a boy, Tybalt Thomas Robert Fitzwilliam Ferrars, third Viscount Tolliver.” She laughed at the end of the string of names. “I, however, call him Tye. Duncan and I had quite a discussion regarding his first name.” Her eyes twinkled. “I, in the end, won out.”

“Hardly surprising, my lady, given your powers of persuasion over the marquess.”

The lady grinned, though she didn’t deny the words. From the gossip Amorina listened to daily in order to keep tabs on the gentlemen who patronized her house, she’d gleaned that this woman had wrapped the inscrutable Marquess of Dalbury around her finger with incredible ease. A feat Amorina would once have deemed impossible. She remembered Duncan’s passions well, had secured a piece of his heart, in fact. But try though she might, she’d never had him under her complete thrall. There’d been a part of him that had never been hers. Now, however, it seemed the woman before her had tamed the untamable rake into the most devoted of husbands. A woman who would be a formidable ally—or enemy.

Lady Dalbury glanced down at the satchel clutched in Amorina’s hand and raised an eyebrow. “Is there something I can help you with, Madam Vestry?”

At last, the moment she’d been dreading all day was here. The marchioness’s lovely face dissolved into an image of Pearl—small, trusting, her own life’s blood. Which one would she betray? There could only be one answer.

Summoning cold reason from the well of ice that was Amorina Vestry, she brought an easy smile to her lips and looked Lady Dalbury in the eyes. “Actually, my lady, I’ve come to give you and the marquess my felicitations on the birth of your child. I’d hoped to bring this token before his birth, but I have been from Town these last several weeks.”

The wary look on the lady’s face eased into a pleased smile. “That’s very kind of you, Madam Vestry.” The baby started to fuss, but Lady Dalbury rocked him for a moment, crooning to him in a sweet, low voice and he settled down once more. “There you go, my love.” She turned to Amorina and nodded to the valise. “What is it?”

“A clock for your nursery, my lady. It plays a Welsh lullaby I’ve always thought pretty. ‘Suo Gân.’” She actually had no idea what tune the clock played, if it had a tune at all. But specific details always gave truth to a lie.

“How sweet of you to think of us.” She glanced at the empty space next to her. “Please have a seat, Madam Vestry.”

Loath to do it, but needing to keep up her friendly façade, Amorina nodded and lowered herself onto the bench.

“May I see the clock?”

A chill chased down Amorina’s spine. Praying Tommy Redmond’s words were true, that the clock’s deadly purpose could only be accomplished by winding the machine, she nodded. The valise had certainly seen a fair amount of jostling without setting the device off. Perhaps it was harmless until wound. Perhaps not. She would know in a moment. “Of course, my lady.”

She bent and lifted the satchel’s flap, reached in, and carefully grasped the golden base. Taking a deep breath, she sent a prayer heavenward and pulled the device from the bag.

“Oh, how lovely.”

Before Amorina could turn toward her, the marchioness had risen and laid the sleeping baby in the carriage. She sat back down and extended her hands. “May I?”

Amorina’s gaze locked on Lady Dalbury, eager to accept a gift from the hands of a woman most would revile as a wanton harlot. A gift that would kill her and her beloved husband, perhaps even her child. Involuntarily, her fingers gripped the base of the clock until the metal curlicues bit into them, sending pain up her arms. “No, my lady.”

God forgive her, but she may have just signed a death warrant for both her child and her lover.

Lady Dalbury frowned, her bright auburn brows nearly touching her nose. “I beg your pardon?”

“No, my lady.” Shaking her head and swallowing the bitter gorge that rose in her throat, Amorina turned away and carefully slid the clock back into the leather satchel. “You want no part of this device.” Her hands trembled so badly it took her a moment to secure the satchel’s buckle. “I should not have come here.”

“Madam Vestry, what is going on?” The frank stare and authoritative tone gave Amorina pause. The marchioness was certainly a woman to be reckoned with. She wielded not only her own force of will but would have the backing of the Marquess of Dalbury as well. Had Amorina jumped blithely from the boiling pot into the flames?

Then Lady Dalbury’s face softened and she put her hand on Amorina’s. “Are you in trouble? If so, please allow us to help you.”

Could she? So many lives turned on this moment. This woman had, with no reason whatsoever, trusted Amorina to summon help. Dare she do the same thing now? Confess everything and have faith that the Dalburys would not simply turn her over to the authorities but help her find a way to save Pearl and Reginald? The familial connection between the magistrate and Lady Dalbury made her hope a little easier.

“If you please, my lady. There is terrible danger here.” She nodded slightly toward the satchel. “Please believe me, I would not have come here, come to you, endangered you and your family were I not attempting to save the lives of others.”

Lady Dalbury sat back, her cool blue eyes assessing both Amorina and the valise as she might an opponent, weighing which was the more dangerous entity. “What is really in that bag, Madam Vestry?”

Grasping her skirts, twisting them until her hands ached, Amorina pulled the last speck of courage from deep within her. “I have been told the clock contains a device, a bomb, that will explode as soon as it is wound.”

Staring at the satchel, the marchioness’s eyes widened until the whites all but engulfed the blue irises. She swallowed convulsively, but managed to sound calm when she asked, “And who told you this?”