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“Your nephew, Thorne Saxon—he’s still residing in Surrey, is he not?”
“He is.” A flicker of comprehension. “He lives a mere ten miles away. And, if I might be so bold as to anticipate your next question, he’s now a fine, seasoned investigator. In fact, he just recently left the employ of Mr. Hackberth to strike out on his own.”
“Why? Hackberth is one of the most respected investigators in England.”
“Indeed, sir. But, at the risk of sounding overly boastful, Thorne has acquired quite a following—clients who had begun making specific requests for his services. Mr. Hackberth was exceedingly proud. After all, he was the one who taught Thorne all his skills. He was also the one who broached the subject of Thorne’s opening his own firm. According to Mr. Hackberth, there were a dozen and a half clients who would be delighted to take their business to him.”
“Impressive.” Dustin’s brows arched. “Also a generous display on Hackberth’s part. Not that it surprises me. From what I know of Hackberth, he’s a most gracious man. Heaven knows he has enough clients to spare a few. Still, giving Saxon his blessing was very kind of him.” A pause. “And very fortunate for me.”
“Shall I summon Thorne, sir?”
“If you would, yes. I’d like to hire him to be both a trained pair of eyes and a bit of brawn, should it be needed. As I remember, Saxon was powerfully built, even as an adolescent.”
“Even more so, now that he’s grown.” Poole cleared his throat. “Are you in danger, sir?”
“I hope not. But I’m going to be delving into the matter of Aldridge’s disappearance more fully. I’d like Saxon to accompany me.” A slight smile. “I hope he’s adept at handling a carriage.”
“Sir?”
“I don’t want whoever is behind this reprehensible scheme to know I’ve hired someone, or even that I’m taking precautions. Therefore, when Saxon travels with me, he must be disguised as someone easily overlooked.”
Poole’s eyes glittered. “Like a driver, for example.”
“Exactly.”
With a nod, Poole reached for the door. “I’ll summon him at once, my lord. He’ll be honored to serve you.”
“Thank you, Poole.”
Alone, and satisfied that he’d taken the necessary steps to ensure his own safety, just as he’d promised the Aldridges, Dustin resumed the line of thought that had preoccupied him throughout the night and into today.
Nicole—and their hour together in the cabin, sharing their thoughts, their dreams.
Their bodies.
With a harsh sound, Dustin reached for his coffee cup.
He’d be lying to himself if he denied that his contemplations ha
d repeatedly converged on those exquisite moments on the cabin floor.
Moments as unrivaled as they were unplanned.
A surge of tenderness claimed him along with the wonder of discovery. He’d told Nicole she was a miracle, and she was, but so was what had transpired between them, sensations so utterly distinct, so different from lust that they redefined the parameters of passion as Dustin had known them. The smoky longing in her eyes, the absolute trust in her motions, the honesty in her words. During that precious time before he’d regained his sanity, there had been no doubts, no boundaries. There had been only the two of them and the extraordinary feelings unfolding between them. True, Nicole had no basis for distinguishing lovemaking from sex. But he did—thanks to her. The contrast was humbling.
As was the realization that had he not recovered his senses, she would have offered him her innocence.
And hated herself afterward.
Frowning, Dustin gulped down his coffee, confronting the gnawing anxiety that was as real, and as intense, as his elation—an anxiety that had hammered at his brain throughout the long hours till dawn.
What emotional damage had been done during those few poignant minutes? And how could he rectify it, overcome Nicole’s guilt and regret, and convince her that what had happened between them was as right as dawn melding with day?
He’d never forget how bereft she’d looked, her awe transforming to shame even as they dressed—shame and self-reproach. Further, she openly placed blame for what had occurred not with him but with herself—a fact as untenable as her ensuing reaction. The result was that along with her gown, she’d restored that damned emotional barrier she’d erected between them, and no matter how valiantly Dustin had tried, he’d been unable to tear it down again. Not during those last seconds at the cabin, nor during their silent walk to her cottage. Several times his frustration had been so great he’d actually considered breaking his vow to Aldridge and spiriting Nicole away, just to rekindle her wonder, her dizzying joy, and, yes—if he were to employ that esteemed honesty she’d taught him—to keep her beside him, where she belonged. Lord, how he’d wanted to obliterate her self-condemnation, her qualms, her bewilderment; to see her face suffused with the exhilaration she’d displayed earlier.
And blame? Well, if blame were to be assigned, he should be its sole recipient. Because he was seasoned enough to have anticipated how devastating it would be to a virtuous young woman like Nicole to realize she’d come so close to surrendering her innocence. That unlike he—who understood that, despite the beauty of their physical encounter, their most profound sharing had occurred before they’d even touched—Nicole was too young, too naive to make that distinction. And, as much as he’d yearned to make her see the strength of what existed between them, he knew she wasn’t ready. It was too soon to expect her to relinquish her doubts and fears, too soon for her to make the ultimate commitment he sought.
And yet he’d let things get out of hand anyway, knowing full well there’d be a price to pay. On their first evening alone, during their first moments of privacy—no, in light of all that, there wasn’t a doubt with whom the blame rested.
