VIRIDIS
Book 1 in the Viridis Series
BY
CALISTA TAYLOR
Viridis
Calista Taylor
Copyright Calista Taylor 2011
Published by Daeron Publishing at Smashwords
Copyright © 2011 by Calista Taylor
All rights
reserved. This book or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced
or used in any manner whatsoever
without the express written
permission of the publisher
except for the use of brief quotations
in a book review.
Printed in the United States of America
First Printing, 2011, second edition
ISBN 978-1-4661-1268-1
Credits for cover:
Model: Marcus Ranum http://www.ranum.com
Brushes: Obsidian Dawn
This book is dedicated to Joe and my girls, for putting up with my writing habits, and to my amazing critique partners, each and every one of them.
Chapter One
London, January 1866
The body lay as it had fallen, the man’s limbs bent at awkward angles. Holding the lantern out to shed light onto the scene, Inspector William Thomas crouched down, careful to avoid the pool of blood that had frozen onto the cobbles. Shifting the body over, he made note that the blood beneath had not yet had a chance to ice. The man couldn’t have been dead more than a few hours. Any longer, and he’d have been stripped of any valuables, the harsh cold being the only thing to keep the street urchins at bay thus far.
Looking around the dark alley, there was little evidence to be had, other than the body itself. No signs that a struggle had ensued. Nothing left behind. It must have been done quick and with surprise, since a young man like this would be apt to put up a fight.
Even through the dim flickering lantern light, William was able to identify the killing blow as having come from a fuse gun, the burn in the fabric and the hole of singed flesh all the evidence he needed. At least his death would have come quick, a small mercy.
The man’s face had frozen into one of shock. It was still a beautiful face even in death, framed by locks of gold, youthful, with a strong jaw.
Someone would be missing this man come morning. By the cut and quality of the cloth he wore, it was certain this was a man of wealth. The poor went missing and dead too often for most to notice or care. It was a cruel injustice, but that did not change the reality of the matter.
“Do we have any identification?” William turned to the constable who had found the body during his rounds.
“That we do, Inspector, and it’s not likely you’re going to have an easy night of it. According to the calling card found on his person, this is Lord Niles Hawthorne.” The constable handed it to him.
“A bit out of his way to be wandering into this part of town. More than likely he’d been over to Viridis. No other reason to be in this part of the city.”
Viridis was a dinner theatre and club offering a drink by the same name. Lady Phoebe Hughes had developed the strong distillation from a variety of plant essences, and as of late, more and more of London’s elite were turning to the newly developed herbal for refreshment and escape. Viridis offered all the best traits of intoxication—and then some— with none of the undesirable side effects. Indeed, the club Viridis had been designed with London’s elite in mind, offering them not only a fashionable and entertaining destination, but also one that managed to retain a sense of respectability and decorum, despite the nature of the herbal, which once consumed, was rumored to have the effect of an aphrodisiac.
William could see the attraction. Physically, the herbal did not make one susceptible to dependency. However, that was not to say one did not develop a mental predilection for the euphoria and heightened senses it brought on, both mentally and physically. And it was the physical effect of the drink that attracted so many followers. It was rumored that when Viridis was taken in its undiluted form, an orgasm could be brought on by a single kiss.
With so many of influence frequenting the club, the local authorities had been willing to overlook its rather salacious, yet tasteful reputation, but with a murder only blocks from Viridis’ doorsteps, William would need to take a much closer look at the club and its proprietress.
It was high time William paid Lady Phoebe Hughes a visit.
Chapter Two
Lady Phoebe Hughes moved through the club, greeting her customers and making sure they were enjoying themselves. The second show of the night— far more risqué than anything else in London— had just gotten underway and nearly all the tables were filled with London’s elite, men and women alike.
She had made the club as extravagant as time and money had allowed— gilded chandeliers above, rococo carved furnishings, and exquisite Persian rugs below— offering the nobility of London a place to come and dine while watching a bit of entertainment, not too unlike what one would find in Paris. Though the theater and show allowed the ladies some semblance of an acceptable façade, the true reason they came was for her herbal concoction, Viridis, which had become all the rage among London society.
Though she had originally developed the herbal to lift one’s mood, she had not anticipated the scope of its effects. Once consumed, it induced a certain euphoria, heightening the senses and making skin sensitive to the touch, leaving a person acutely aware of their carnal needs.
Satisfied that things were running smoothly, Phoebe headed to the Sanctorum—a private area reserved for her best customers, connected to the front of the club by a wide corridor. She had spared no expense in this room, and though it had been dear, it had paid for itself in short time.
Reminiscent of a gentlemen’s club, the Sanctorum was a large sitting room, comfortably outfitted with plenty of areas for relaxation, including large comfortable chairs and a roaring fire, which bathed everything in a gilded light. It was a casual atmosphere affording a more intimate environment away from the theater. It was in this private area that her most elite customers congregated, and though the theatergoers had access to Viridis, it was only in this part of the club that one gained access to the stronger version of the drink.
Beyond the Sanctorum, Phoebe had added yet another area which housed private rooms, enabling one to seek a clandestine rendezvous. The entrance was hidden by an optical diffuser, a tinkering that allowed one to pass through unnoticed. She thought of the tinkerer who’d drawn up the original plans for the diffuser, and her heart ached at the memory of him. He had left over a year ago, and she’d been forced to hire another tinkerer to build it.
A long mahogany bar occupied the far corner of the sitting room and was currently being run by her younger brother, Gabriel, who chatted with his patrons, entertaining them as he poured their drinks. He was the only family she had left. Their mother had died when she had been just ten, with her father dying several years later of a broken heart. Then there was their sister, Imogene, gone just over a year. They only had each other now.
He nodded to her in acknowledgment, and she could not help but smile at his handsome face. Just a few years younger than herself at three and twenty, running the club would have been impossible if not for his constant help.
She approached the bar with a smile, but grew wary when her brother’s eyes darted around the room, a sigh escaping his lips. “What is it, love?”
Gabriel reached out and gave her hand a quick squeeze. “Phoebe…” He gave his head a shake, then looked up at her with a hint of smile. “There’s someone here to see you.” He motioned with a tilt of the head and a sparkle in his eyes to the gentleman sitting by the fire.
Though the man’s back was to her and she could only see his luscious chestnut locks, she knew, without a single doubt in her mind, that it was he. It had been over a year since she had last seen him, over a year since his duty to the Cause had called him away. And now he was here. Her tinkerer.
Her chest tightened and her heart picked up its pace, thundering away against her ribcage. She glanced at Gabriel, steeled herself with a deep breath, and moved across the room on wobbly legs, her pulse deafening inside her head. She closed the distance between them quickly, scarcely acknowledging the friendly greetings of her regular customers as she passed, her focus on him complete.
She reached out, her hand hovering above his shoulder, not sure she could touch him without having her heart stop. Before she could muster the courage, he turned around, his eyes locking on hers.
“Phoebe.” He stood to greet her, but took no more than a step towards her.
“Seth.” Her mouth had suddenly gone dry, her heart tripping over itself. How she wished he didn’t have this affect on her. “I hadn’t realized you had returned.” She was barely able to get the words out.
“Just this morning. Please, sit with me. It’s been too long.” He motioned to the vacant chair across from him, sitting back in his own.
Phoebe fell into the chair before her legs gave out, her corset the only thing keeping her upright. She was unable to look at him without being flooded with memories of their nights together, of his touch, and of the dark days after her sister’s death when no one—not even Seth—could reach her.
Soon after their father’s death, Imogene had become plagued by melancholy and Phoebe had spent countless hours in her father’s abandoned laboratory, desperate to develop an herbal cure that would help her save her. Unfortunately, Phoebe’s breakthrough had come only months too late. By the time the formula had been perfected, Imogene had already taken her own life.
“You look beautiful, Phoebe.” He moved to the edge of his chair, and reached out to take her hand in his. “Do you know how I’ve missed you? There wasn’t a day that went by when I didn’t think of you.”
Though she wanted nothing more than to sink into his arms and forget how desperately alone she’d been this last year, she yanked her hand away, her anger and hurt getting the best of her. “How dare you! How dare you say you’ve missed me. You left me, Seth. Left me when I needed you most.” All of the emotions she’d kept bottled up for so long came flooding back, and she had to blink away the tears that threatened.
He flinched at her words. “You know that’s not the reality of it. It killed me to leave you the way I did.” He reached out to her again, but stopped just short of touching her.
“My sister had just died, but your assignment for the Cause took precedence. It always has, and I know now that it always will— which is fine, but let’s not pretend, Seth. I know your priorities.”
“Phoebe, please. I would have stayed if I could have, but you know I was the only one who could have fixed the geostat on such short notice. You know how important it was to get it back up and running.”
Seth was a brilliant tinkerer—one of the many reasons Phoebe had fallen in love with him. The geostat was one of Seth’s most innovative tinkerings, bringing much needed income to the Cause by making the mining of the arctic Outlands a possibility.
Controlled by the Cause, the Outlands were located so far to the north that water and land iced to become one. While the earth in the Outlands was rich, the severe weather conditions had made mining previously impossible. Only Seth’s geostat was capable of digging through the hardest earth and working in the harshest conditions.
Tinkerers were incredibly important to the Cause, for it was through their innovations that they sought to better the lives of the people, working for the good of all mankind. Though she had always done all she could to help the Cause, Phoebe did not always agree with the methods and demands made by those running things, and felt they often asked too much from those willing to help—too much from men like Seth.
Seth got out of his seat and knelt in front of her, pulling her fighting hands into his. Phoebe allowed herself a moment to really look at him. His hair was disheveled, longer than he usually wore it, and he had lost some weight since she had last seen him, his muscular form now leaner, more hardened than it had been when he’d left. But his eyes were still the deep blue-green of a tropical lagoon, intelligent and kind, promising far too much.
How she wanted to just throw her arms around his neck and bury herself in his warmth, breathe in his scent. But she feared it would always end the same way, with him abandoning her to go save the world. So she held fast to her convictions, and gingerly removed her hands from his. “I do not know if I can do this again. Things have changed since you left.”
He retreated to his chair, giving her the space she needed. “Yes. I can see that. Congratulations on your success. It’s well deserved. I know how hard you worked on it.”
“Thank you. You know, it probably would have never happened if it hadn’t been for your help. Have you had a chance to try it? It’s quite good actually.” She gave him a bit of a smile, as the initial shock of seeing him wore off and her heart slowed its gallop. She told herself she would be fine if she could only manage to avoid discussing their relationship.
“Not yet, but I was hoping you would join me.” He raised his eyebrows in question.
“Of course.” Phoebe caught the attention of one of her girls. “From my private reserve, please.” She could not help but notice Seth’s eyes go wide for just a moment as he took in the girl’s uniform before quickly looking away, a blush creeping across his cheeks. Though the waitress’s outfits were tasteful and elegant, they did run towards the provocative.
With the girl gone, they sat in silence, just taking in one another while they waited, getting used to being in each other’s company once again. It was not long before the young woman returned, wheeling a small cart before her. She greeted them with a small curtsey.
“Thank you, Maggie,” Phoebe said, by way of dismissal. She picked up the small, dark green bottle and poured a thimble-sized amount into two slender crystal glasses. The liquid was slightly viscous, and just the palest of greens. “From my own personal supply. Normally we dilute the strength, and though this still isn’t at full concentration, it’s not too far from it.” Handing him a glass, she said, “Welcome back, Seth.”
He lifted his glass to hers, and she watched as he took a tentative sip.
“You are right. It is quite good.” He took another sip, and then smiled. “A little different from your earlier formulations.”
Phoebe thanked him before bringing her own drink to her lips. There was only a hint of bitterness, with dominant notes of citrus and herb. It was slightly sweet, and it went down with an alcoholic burn that sent a warm heat through her body. She did not often drink Viridis herself. Although the side effects of the drink were limited, it did seem to make one susceptible to an overly rosy view of things, and the other lustier characteristics of the herbal did not lend themselves overly when one did not have an outlet for release. She knew that in ten minutes time that heat would turn into a mellow euphoria, sending tingles across her skin, leaving it sensitive enough that the mere breath of one’s lover could ignite passions.
“So are you going to tell me of your adventures? It must have been exciting over in the Outlands.” When he was assigned the mission, she’d begged him to take her with him, wanting only to escape her anguish over her sister’s death, but he had refused, claiming the conditions to be too harsh for her to endure.
“I wouldn’t have called it exciting. Nothing but metal and grime, barely another soul to be found. It’s just too cold for most humans and even the steam techs have problems when they go up to the surface for any length of time. Actually, it was Gavin that brought me back on his airship. He sends his regards.”
“Gavin?” Though she could not help but smile at the thought of their dear friend, she also could not stop her pulse from picking up its pace. When he had last visited her some six months ago, their visit had ended badly. “It’s been months since I saw him last. I do hope he’s well. He’s always taking on such dangerous cargo runs. I always fear he’ll run into some difficulty.”
Fearless and accomplished, Gavin flew when others refused—whether it be horrible weather conditions, territories at war or precious cargo—he was one of the most sought after airship captains. Gavin never shied away from a perilous situation, and had a knack for always landing on his feet.
“He always manages, does he not?” Seth said with a smile. “He’ll be staying in London for a bit, so I trust he’ll show up around here at some point or another.” Seth took another sip of his drink and then gave his head a shake. “This is something powerful, Phoebe. No wonder you cut its strength,” he said, his eyes intense, sparkling.
Phoebe nodded in agreement, feeling her shoulders relax. Drinking Viridis with Seth probably wasn’t the wisest of decisions. Inventing the drink had not made her immune to its effects, and Phoebe felt her resolve to keep her distance from him melting away. The room was suddenly much too warm, her garments far too restrictive, and her breath so shallow she felt she might faint. Each pounding beat of her heart sent a pulse of need through her very core.
“I’ve missed you, Seth.” The words were out before she could stop herself. She inwardly scolded herself for being weak and looked down at the glass in her hands. “You could have written, you know.”
He sat forward on the edge of his seat, only a breath away. “By the gods, Phoebe, do ye not think I would have written or called if it were at all a possibility? You know the Aether is weak that far north, making communication an impossibility.” A faint Scottish lilt crept into his voice, as it always did when his emotions were running high or when he let his guard down. How she had missed it. The pain in his voice and the pleading in his eyes tore at her defenses, and she reached for his hand as he asked, “Do ye not know how hard it was to leave ye here?”
“Is this gentleman bothering you, Phoebe?” A cold, familiar voice came from behind them, cutting through the warm effects of the Viridis, sending a shard of panic through her heart.
“Victor,” she stood and forced a smile. “Thank you, but no. Everything is fine here.”
The last person she wanted to see was Lord Victor Fenwick— especially with Seth present. In Seth’s absence, Phoebe had no other amorous ties, and Victor had started courting her soon after she opened her club, even going as far as asking Gabriel for her hand in marriage. Gabriel had made it clear it was her decision to make, which only made Victor more persistent in his pursuit.
Seth also stood, the crease in his brow making it clear he was unhappy about the interruption. Phoebe made the introductions. “Lord Victor Fenwick, Mr. Seth Elliott.”
Though they were both exceptionally handsome, they couldn’t have been more different. Seth was tall, lean and muscular. His dark hair was long enough to brush his collar, his strong jaw clean-shaven. Though not born into a family of wealth, Seth’s brilliant work as a philanthropist and tinkerer had elevated his status in society—one of the reasons the Cause found him so valuable. Where Seth was tall, dark, and lean, Victor was shorter and brawnier of build, his strong cheekbones framed by his well-trimmed blonde beard. As part of a family prominent in London society, Victor was more concerned with wealth, status, and power than the well-being of others.
The two gentlemen glowered at one another, towering over Phoebe’s petite frame like two dogs fighting over their turf. Victor spoke first, his voice a growl. “I have not seen you at Viridis before, Mr. Elliott. I must confess to spending a fair amount of time here, as I’m never able to go very long without paying dear Phoebe a visit.”
Seth smiled at Victor, his gaze sharp and unwavering. “It is true. I have only just returned from a trip abroad, though I consider myself lucky to be familiar with both Phoebe and her curious herbal, having had the pleasure of helping her with her endeavor.” Turning to Phoebe with a smile, he took her hand in his. “Indeed I do not think I’ll ever forget the effect that very first batch had on me— or you as I recall.”
Phoebe blushed crimson at the memory. Indeed, it was that first batch that led to the discovery of the true effects of Viridis and the rumor amongst London society that the herbal could bring on an orgasm with a single kiss.
When Gabriel waved her over, she was relieved to have an excuse to leave. Between the effects of the drink, the memories of Seth, and the two men hovering over her, it was all too much for her to handle.
“I’m terribly sorry, but my brother is hailing me. If you will both excuse me, I do hope you will enjoy the rest of your evening.” Then without waiting for a response, she walked back to the bar on still-wobbly legs.
“That was looking like a precarious situation you had gotten yourself into.” Gabriel gave her a crooked smile, making him all the more handsome, his dark curls bringing out the blue of his eyes.
“I cannot thank you enough for your help. I think it has left me feeling a bit drained, though. I’m going to retire for the evening, if you think you can manage things here.”
“You know that’s never a problem, love. Truth of the matter is, you have the place so well-staffed, it could run itself without either of us here. Your escape, however, might not be so easily made.” He motioned behind her with his chin.
She turned just in time to see Seth approaching, her pulse becoming erratic as he neared.
“Let me at least see you home, Phoebe.” The gentle pleading in his voice tore at her few remaining defenses.
Victor stood where she’d left him, his thick arms folded across his chest, his mouth set into a thin line. But her attention strayed only for a moment— Seth was too close, his scent too familiar.
Unable to resist him any longer, she gave Seth a nod of agreement, despite the fact that she could still feel Victor’s gaze upon her. She knew he was not a man she should anger, but she had never returned his advances, though he was always showing up at the club, bringing her small gifts. Perhaps this would finally make it clear that she had no interest in him romantically, even if she felt just a little guilty, wondering if she had inadvertently encouraged him in some way.
Seth took her hand in his, his touch pulling her from her thoughts. He brought it to his lips before tucking it in the crook of his elbow, a smile on his face, his eyes dancing in the dim lamplight. Her pulse raced as she walked out of the room on his arm, hoping she would not later regret her decision, for even though she had not said a word, already she could feel her heart surrendering to him.
Chapter Three
Inspector William Thomas climbed the stone treads of the townhouse belonging to Lord Edward Hawthorne, his chest tightening with each step. This was always the hardest part of the job. Telling mothers and fathers they would never again see their sons, telling husbands they would never again hold their wives. Yet he would still have to pose his questions, and would still have to uncover their secrets, while the family attempted to deal with the shock of their loss.
The brass knocker felt heavy and substantial in his gloved hand as he knocked. The cold of the metal crept through the leather, sending a chill down his spine.
William had come directly from the scene of the murder, and it was still hours until dawn. Only the servants would be awake, stoking the fires and getting the cooking started. Under normal circumstances, the masters of the household would not rise for several more hours.
It took some time before the footman answered the door. Though his clothing was rumpled and his hair stood on end, he was a tall, handsome young man. William had no doubt he was chosen for the position because of his height and good looks, just another vain show at maintaining one’s status in London society. It struck him as such an absurd extreme that the rich could worry about whether their footman was handsome enough, while the poor were left to wonder whether they’d survive another day. It was no wonder the Cause had taken hold like a fire in a dry summer field.
The footman gave him a quick appraisal, his eyes lingering on the cut of his coat and the scuffs on his worn boots. “May I help you?” He couldn’t quite keep the disdain out of his voice. Though William had made the rank of inspector, he was still considered no better than a servant— a servant who should have been using the service entrance. It was only the time of day that had the footman biting back any retort.
“I need to speak with Lord Hawthorne. It is of the utmost importance.” He handed the footman his calling card. “I will give him your card when he awakes, but he is a busy man. I recommend you schedule an appointment at his office if you have business with him.” The footman took a step back, getting ready to dismiss William.
William raised a hand, his voice stern. “I’m not asking you. I’m telling you as an officer of the law. This cannot wait. Now, get him.”
“Right, then.” The footman stepped aside to allow William entrance and then brusquely escorted him into the smaller front parlor.
Left alone, William took in the fine décor and the feminine touch. It was well executed, effortlessly elegant without being overdone. Any one of the beautiful pieces on display would easily cost him more than a year’s pay.
He did not have long to wait. Lord Hawthorne entered the room, and it shocked William to see a face so similar to the one that had coldly stared up at him in death.
“Please. Have a seat, Inspector,” he smoothed his hair and cleared his throat. “I cannot imagine what business has brought you to my home at such an hour, but it must be of some importance or I would assume you would wait for a more appropriate time to call.” He paused and glanced to the footman. “Some tea, Lucas.”
William gave a slight bow. “My Lord, you may want something a little stronger. Perhaps some brandy.” Lord Hawthorne’s eyes were clear and intelligent despite the early hour, but the blood drained from his face upon hearing William’s words.
William sighed, his chest tight. “I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but I believe we just discovered the body of your son, Lord Niles Hawthorne.”
Lord Hawthorne stumbled towards the closest seat, collapsing into it. “No. It cannot be. How can you be so sure? Surely you have made some terrible mistake.”
“I’m very sorry. Of course, we will need you to come in and identify him, but I’m afraid there is enough of a resemblance between you and your son to leave little doubt. I wish it were not so.” William wished he could offer the man some comfort, but there was little he could do but give him some time to recover before asking the difficult questions. “Is there anyone who may have wished him harm?”
Lucas entered the room with the brandy, but was dismissed with a wave of his master’s hand.
“Allow me.” William poured a generous helping of brandy into a glass of cut crystal, and handed it to his Lordship.
“No. There is no one of suspicion that comes to mind. Of course his life was his own, but there is nothing I can think of that would lead to his death. He was a good man. I cannot imagine him angering someone enough to make them want to take his life. A robbery. Surely that can be the only logical explanation.” He took in a breath, letting it out in a shudder. “He had his own quarters, not too far from the center of the city. He had wanted to be closer to his offices and his work as a solicitor.”
William asked several more questions, but it was clear his lordship did not have any information, the shock of his son’s death too much for him to handle. With the addresses for both Niles’s home and work, William left Lord Hawthorne to the difficult task of breaking the news to his wife.
Chapter Four
Luckily the ride in Seth’s steam coach was a short one. With Seth manning the controls and traffic on the roads still heavy, it was easy to avoid any conversation and ignore the growing physical attraction between them.
The steam coach was Seth’s own design; he’d never been one for a horse and buggy, and since he spent every spare moment on his tinkerings, it was no surprise he’d created a prototype for the coach. The extent of his ingenuity constantly amazed and surprised her, his abilities seemingly knowing no bounds.
She still could not believe he had returned to her and was seated by her side. She could not help but gaze at his handsome profile, the street lamps casting him in mysterious shadows as he maneuvered through the streets.
Phoebe’s family home, located in the desirable neighborhood of Berkeley Square, was one of the more modest on the street, especially for one belonging to the titled. Despite its small size, the elegant little house was still far too much for her to manage on her own while keeping up with her research and the club. She had recently hired a couple of servant girls to help deal with the upkeep, though they would be asleep this late at night.
She let herself into the kitchen through the side entrance, and Seth followed close behind. Most guests would have been brought through the front door and into the sitting room, but this was Seth, and that type of formality was not needed.
“Could I get you a cup of tea? Perhaps a bite to eat? I think there might be some meat and cheese in the frost box.” At the sink, she busied herself with the kettle, not really waiting for his response. She could feel his intense gaze following her every move, sending her heart racing.
When he slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her to him, she couldn’t help but lean back, her body seeking his. A shiver coursed through her as he nuzzled her neck, and she weakened at his touch. Each breath, each touch set her skin alight, the energy between them like that of a tropical lightning storm, her heart thundering in her chest. She wanted to blame it on the Viridis, but in her heart she knew that what they had between them was stronger than any herbal concoction she could ever hope to invent.
“Phoebe, I love you.” The words were a murmur against her skin.
He spun her into his arms and kissed her hard. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she was lost in him, in his touch. Everything else faded to black, his words crumbling the last of her defenses.
Seth’s kisses never stopped as he lifted her into his arms and carried her up the stairs towards her bedroom. Cradled as she was against him, she could feel the power radiating from his muscular frame, and his scent, a unique combination of sage and spice, left her head swimming with memories of their nights together.
Even in the dim light which had been left on for her, he knew his way— had carried her up these steps so many times before. He entered her room and closed the door behind him, the only light coming from a small fire in the fireplace, lending a golden glow to their surroundings.
She was desperate for his touch, but Seth took his time freeing her from her voluminous garments, his slow pace only adding to her need. His kisses wandered down her neck, each one sending a shot of desire through her body as he unlaced her gown, letting it fall to the floor before freeing her of her petticoat.
She stood there in just her corset, stockings and heels, feeling vulnerable and naked. Unable to resist any longer, she placed her hand on his chest, his muscles tensing in response, his need palpable. Seth’s arm encircled her waist, and he lowered his lips to the curve of her shoulder, the stubble on his face sending a shiver down her spine. She pressed against him, her head spinning as another wave of desire coursed through her body and she felt him struggle to keep his own hunger reined in.
He removed the pins from her hair, letting her curls fall down her back while she pulled off his jacket, and then worked on the buttons of his vest and shirt with trembling fingers.
Once she’d freed him of his shirt, she ran her hands down his chest. His skin was searing hot, his muscles hard as they contracted under her hand, and the months of separation slowly faded from her memory.
When he spoke his words were ragged with need. “I missed you, Phoebe. With every fiber of my being, I missed you. I swear you were my only thought in that frigid isolation, the only thing that kept me going.”
He, too, had been her only thought, but she did not want to think of that now. “We’re both here now. That’s all that matters.” She tilted her head up and he kissed her, lowering her onto the bed. Seth lifted her leg and flicked off her shoe, running his hand up the length of her thigh, teasingly close to the darkness between her legs, where she ached for him. He unhooked each stocking, slowly removing them, the tips of his fingers brushing down the length of her leg, making her gasp.
Phoebe lay in nothing more than her corset. Seth knelt in front of her and her breath caught in her throat. He teasingly trailed kisses up her thigh, then to the small swell of belly that peeked out from under the stiff boning of her corset. Her name escaped his lips in a whisper against skin, and she was flooded with emotions, sensations, that she’d long since forgotten.
His kisses lingered, teasing and nipping until he finally found his way to the slick heat between her thighs. Overwhelmed by sensation, she moaned in response, her fingers tangling in his hair, as the waves of pleasure built, one upon the other. He continued his exploration, finally driving her over that delicious edge, her body shuddering as the orgasm ripped through her, all the more intense because of the Viridis and their time apart.
While she recovered, he undressed, and then slid in next to her, cradling her against him from behind. He pulled at the laces of her corset ever-slowly, kissing his way down her back, so that by the time he’d undone the lacings, she was ready for him again.
Phoebe took control this time, tossing her corset aside and sliding her leg over to straddle him. She leaned down, kissing him, her loosened hair falling forward, as she slid back onto his hard length, gasping as he filled her, their bodies now one.
She closed her eyes, losing herself in the moment, her body tight around him as she shifted her hips, pulling herself slowly up his length before working her way back down. Every nerve in her body was on fire, whether from the Viridis or the year she’d spent alone, she could not say. In that moment, the only thing she knew, she wanted, she needed, was Seth. He was her very heart and soul, and she surrendered herself to him, and to her need.
Seth sat up, covering her mouth with his, his arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her to him to deepen their coupling. She fought to keep from falling over the edge, needing to draw out the moment, to savor each touch. Trailing his kisses down her neck, he found his way to her nipples, taking each one in turn. She arched in response, closing her eyes and picking up her pace, as she struggled to keep herself sane, the sensations overwhelming.
“Phoebe, look at me.” His voice was hoarse, barely a whisper, but she could hear the need in his words, mirroring her own. Her eyes opened drunkenly at his request, but when she bent her head, her mouth seeking his, he stopped her. “I need to see ye, love. I need to see ye look at me, so that I know it’s real and not just a dream.” She honored his request, looking into eyes she could drown herself in, her body locked around his as they shuddered in their finality and together plummeted off the edge and into light.
***
Phoebe awoke next to Seth, his arm still wrapped around her waist, holding her to him even in sleep. Her lungs filled with his scent, stirring in her something she had desperately tried to ignore for the last fifteen months.
She slid out from under his arm, unable to resist a look back at his slumbering form. By the gods, he was beautifully built— his face strong with neatly chiseled features, peaceful in sleep, his body long and lean. It was no wonder she had been unable to resist him, Viridis or no, though she knew it was not face nor body that had captured her heart. It had always been about his mind and his soul— he was her tinkerer.
Tinkerers were not really much different than inventors of the past. However, the current misery surrounding the poor of London had sparked a renaissance of sorts as the tinkerers tried to change the world for the better using their creative abilities. The creations being produced were of a complexity never before seen, and though most tinkerers had ties to either the Cause or the government, particularly the Secret Service. Then there were others who tinkered for the sheer pleasure of creating something never before made. Like her father.
Moving quietly, she threw on a casual pair of breeches, her scuffed work boots and a shirt, and headed to her laboratory to catch up on some work. She had been neglecting her research since she’d opened Viridis, as the late nights and the day-to-day demands of the business ate away at her free time. When not making batches of Viridis for the club, she had taken to playing around with her formulations, with the hope of creating something new. Indeed, she had a few herbals she was currently experimenting with, many showing great promise.
Someday soon, she hoped to leave the running of the club in Gabriel’s capable hands, allowing her to pursue more useful outlets for her energy. Her true passion was tinkering with her herbals, though, if she must deal with Society, she would rather play hostess at her own club rather than subject herself to their rules and games outside of work. She shuddered at the thought of being forced to sit through endless evenings of idle gossip and speculation. It would surely push her to the edge of sanity. No, it was not a life she could endure— she needed to use her mind and her hands or she would wither and die— and it was exactly the type of life she would be forced to endure if she married someone like Lord Victor Fenwick.
The laboratory was located on the upper most floor of their home. Phoebe took the stairs at a jog, anxious to get to work, but stopped on the landing when she found Sarah there, dusting.
“Good morning to you, Mum.” Sarah bowed, then looked hastily down at her feet, her small frame tense.
“And a good morning to you, Sarah.” Phoebe smiled at the girl, hoping to ease some of Sarah’s nervousness. She and Martha hadn’t been with Phoebe more than a few months, and with Phoebe spending so little time at home, the girls, perhaps used to more formality from their employers, were not yet at ease around her.
“Shall I get you some breakfast? I can bring it up to you in the laboratory, if you’ll be working.”
“Thank you, but I really want to get a bit of work done first. Perhaps in a bit.”
“As you wish, Mum.”
Phoebe continued on her way, her mind already running through calculations. Although she’d made enough Viridis to last a typical month, the increase in customers had dwindled the supply faster than she’d anticipated.
A heavy metal door greeted her at the far end of the hall, which she always kept locked when she wasn’t working. She’d had the door reinforced several months back so that the solid oak door was now plated in heavy brass, thick bolts holding the plates in place. Pulling out a key she had dangling on a chain around her neck, she slid it into the keyhole and turned it, satisfied when she heard the click. Next, she tapped in a complicated series of numbers into a keypad next to the door, each enameled numerical key clicking into place to allow her access into her laboratory. As she touched the last key, she took a step back as a hiss of steam let loose and the massive gears turned, moving the door to the side and out of the way.
She took a deep breath, slowly letting it out before walking into the laboratory. It was always the same, each time she came here. Though it was now her laboratory, she never ceased to think of it as her father’s, his ghost here too strong to ignore. After her mother’s death, the lab had been the place he had always escaped to, and after his death, it had become her escape too.
However, Imogene’s death still had her regularly running over the calculations recorded in her journal, wondering if there was something she could have done differently, something she overlooked. Perhaps if she had been smarter, worked harder, she could have saved Imogene. Her sister’s death was a guilt she would always carry with her.
Phoebe pushed the ghosts back into their graves, and cleared her head, now ready to work. The open space and high ceilings made the room feel larger than its actual size. Soaring windows flanked either side of the lab, with her work desk situated in the center of the room. Row upon row of glass bottles sparkled in the sunlight that poured in from the windows, including the jugs full of essential oils she needed to make Viridis.
Crossing to her desk, she picked up her journal and referenced her formulations. She put on a pair of brass goggles designed to protect her eyes should one of the liquids splatter or she get hit with a blast of steam. Pulling down several jugs, she measured out her ingredients, pouring them into a massive copper vessel, before wheeling it to the tall tinkering that occupied the center of the room—the distillery. It was physically taxing work, especially for someone her size, but she did not like asking for help when she was still capable, nor did she want others in her laboratory.
Opening a compartment, she slid the round copper vessel within, the liquid sloshing around as she connected a tube, lit the fire, and adjusted the dials for the correct pressure. The machine groaned to life. She took a step back, a smile upon her face as she looked at the tinkering Seth had built her. It always reminded her of a gigantic metal octopus swimming to the bottom of the ocean— the bulging body had copper tubing coming out of it every which way, only to coil madly towards the sky, the steam encircling it like frothy waves.
This one batch of Viridis would be enough to replenish most of her stock for the club. Then perhaps she could get back to her research. By changing the concentrations of phenols and by adding other herbs to the original Viridis recipe, she had gotten some new—and very interesting—results. It looked as though the new formula may heighten senses in a way quite different to Viridis. It would still be months before she perfected it, but only if she managed to dedicate more time to the project. There was definite potential for something extraordinary to happen.
Satisfied that everything was working properly, she slipped off her goggles so they lay dangling around her neck, and then moved back to the shelves, searching amongst the glittering bottles. After several minutes, she found the bottle she was looking for, and grabbing a glass, headed back to her desk.
She wiggled the cork out of the bottle, and poured out a few tablespoons of the viscous amber liquid. It had been one of her first herbal formulations and quite simple to make, created shortly after Seth first started courting her. The tincture, a combination derived from smartweed, pomegranate seeds, and the seed head of Queen Anne’s lace, smelled bitter and tasted even worse. Managing to get it down, she had all but forgotten how horrible it was. Perhaps someday she would no longer need it, but for now, her circumstances were not suitable for starting a family.
Of course, these types of herbals had always existed, for as long as there were people coupling, there were also people not wanting to get with child. And though they usually did not persecute women as witches for things as simple as this, her reputation had already taken enough of a beating, and she thought it best if it were kept a secret from everyone but Seth. Quite frankly, she’d much rather not die tied to a stake and engulfed in flames.
Getting back to work, she paged through the leather-bound journal, worn with age and use. It was there she kept all her methods, her observations, her secrets. While the liquid distilled she jotted down her numbers and measurements for that day’s batch, knowing it was crucial to keep meticulous notes on everything she did.
Lost in her work, she was startled when Seth ran a hand down her back. “Sorry, I didn’t notice you come in.” She usually left the door ajar when she was working to help with the fumes. Opening the windows normally created too much of a cross breeze and chill, slowing down the process in the cold of winter.
“Working, I see?” He smiled at her, his eyes still heavy with sleep. “I woke up alone. For a second I thought I was back in the Outlands, and you had been just a dream.” Seth looked at her, and she blushed at the thought of what she must look like, fresh out of bed— her hair disheveled and loose, the outline of her erect nipples embarrassingly visible through the diaphanous fabric of her shirt— her body’s response to his mere proximity.
“Come back to bed, Phoebe.” Leaning on her desk, he reached out and ran his hand down her cheek, his fingers just a little rough and calloused from his work.
Phoebe swiveled her chair towards him. “I just started the distillation, and can’t leave it for long. Thought I’d take a bit of time to run some new calculations. I could have some breakfast brought up though, if you’re hungry. I could do with a bite myself.”
She looked up into those turquoise eyes and had the urge to abandon her work and take him up on his offer. His shirt was half open and untucked, suspenders dangling neglected at his sides. Half hidden under the cotton of his shirt was an expanse of smooth skin over work-hardened muscles, dark hair curling its way across his chest before trailing in a narrow line down his abdomen.
“Food wasn’t what I had in mind, but I reckon I’ll take what I can get.” A smile filled with mischief tugged at his mouth. Obviously still hoping to change her mind, he pulled her to him when she stood. He motioned with a tilt of his head to the tinkering in the center of the room. “How has it been working for you? Any problems?”
“It’s been working grand. No problems at all.”
Standing before the massive contraption, a smile lit her face. Indeed, if she had not searched him out to have the tinkering built, they would have never met. Before she met Seth, she’d struggled for months with a traditional distillery, trying in vain to reach the high temperatures she needed, fast enough and with the precision required to control and maintain the exact pressure for extraction. When her efforts fell short, she sought out a tinkerer for help. Seth had come highly recommended and was considered one of the best, his designs and tinkerings regarded with the utmost respect.
He’d labored away for months, trying to get the distillery just right. The result was a one of a kind— a Seth Elliott original— a masterpiece without which she may not have been able to accomplish what she had, in so little time.
He had started courting her from the very beginning, using the tinkering as a guise to spend more time together, though his excuses were short lived. With many interests in common, they not only found each other romantically but also developed a deep friendship. He had been unlike any other man she’d met, appreciative of her opinions and her mind, encouraging her when she was ready to give up. Never had he tried to change her or bend her to society’s norms.
Not long after they met, Seth introduced her to Gavin and he soon joined their adventures, the three of them inseparable. Their friendship offered Phoebe a much needed escape from the reality of her world, a glimmer of normalcy and hope in what had been a dreary and difficult life.
When he’d finally finished the distillery, Seth had asked Phoebe to marry him. But with Imogene’s health taking a turn for worst, she refused his offer, which put a strain on their previously close bond. Things became even more strained for them after Imogene’s death. He had tried to be there for her, yet she had pushed him away in her pain, unable to let him—or anybody—get close to her, unable to forgive herself for not being able to save Imogene.
And yet she had been unable to see the distance she had put between them until it was too late; Seth left for the Outlands soon after, his commitment made, leaving Phoebe to drown in regret and despair.
“Will ye not come back to bed, my love?” His fingers twined around hers, as he pulled her to him, his lips just a whisper away. “Do you know that, for that blasted long year, you— my memories and your photo— were the only thing keeping me warm in the arctic cold?”
“You weren’t the only one alone.” She hated to think of how desperate and lonely she had been. Gavin had been away in the colonies when her sister died, and Seth’s departure for the Outlands came only a month after, leaving Phoebe with no one but her brother. There were days when she couldn’t even muster the strength to get herself out of bed, and she did not think she would have survived it if it hadn’t been for Gabriel’s constant attentions.
Seth nuzzled her ear for just a moment, before his lips found their way to hers, his kisses soft and sweet as they stirred in her a heat only he could quench.
“Phoebe, why won’t you marry me?” His question was barely a whisper in between kisses.
She shook herself free, the moment lost with her frustration. “We’ve been through this before, Seth.” She turned away from him, wrapping her arms around herself as if warding off a sudden chill. It was a discussion they’d had on more than one occasion.
“Phoebe, I cannot give up the Cause. It’s too important. You know that. Think of all those that are suffering; the government and Queen doing nothing to stave off the illness, the poverty.”
She knew he spoke the truth, and her problem was not with the Cause, only the way in which he chose to help. “How could you think that of me? I am not asking that you give up the Cause. I only want you to help in a way that will not take you away from me for months at a time and put your life at risk.”
He paced the floor, his frustration evident. “I help the way I know how. I thought you of all people would understand that. You’ve seen the faces of the poor, all hope extinguished from their eyes. It’s the Cause that has finally rekindled that flame, given them hope for a better life, and it’s the Cause that will demand change from those in power, whether they want it or not. The poor have suffered and been oppressed for too long, Phoebe. You know that.”
“Do you think I don’t understand? Have I not also helped and done what I can?” Her temper was up in a flash. She had seen the suffering, had been by his side while they offered what help they could to those who had nothing.
“Phoebe…”
She felt the air around her shift as he came to stand behind her, her tears threatening to fall. “I can’t do it, Seth. I watched my father struggle alone after my mother’s death. It was that loneliness that slowly killed him, tore him apart. I refuse to take that path willingly. You were gone over a year, and I cannot do it again. I’ve lost so much…I couldn’t stand to lose you, too. And I should not have to.”
“It doesn’t have to be that way.” He ran his hand down the length of her arm.
“You know they’ll keep sending you on missions as long as you let them. I’d never ask you to give up the Cause— but there are other ways.”
As much as she wanted him to stay, she needed that decision to be his own. She would not risk him blaming her for tying him down when he’d be happier leading a different life. She had no tolerance for others telling her what to do, and she would not be a hypocrite.
He had always promised to be by her side, and though she may have pushed him away after Imogene’s death, it had still been his choice to leave for the Outlands, his promise broken, though she could not say it was entirely his fault.
“I give the only way I know how.” Frustration, hurt and anger were all evident in his voice. “Phoebe, please. Why can you not see that? I would give it all up if it would make you happy, but I cannot believe that is what you truly want. Do you want the Cause to fail? For the innocent to continue to suffer?”
Angry and incredibly hurt that he would think her so selfish, she spat, “How can you say that?” She turned to look into his eyes, her heart aching. “Do you think I’d stand idly by and watch others suffer? Do you not think I’ve done my share to help in your absence?” If he didn’t already know that she’d do her part to help, then what hope did they have?
“Missions aren’t the only way to help, Seth, but you’re never willing to find a happy medium.” She turned away from him. “I shouldn’t have to ask you to stay.” A tear slid down her cheek. “And if you cannot figure that out, if you cannot figure out a way to keep us together, then maybe you should leave.”
She didn’t turn to watch him go— she couldn’t; for all she wanted was for him to take her in his arms and tell her he would not leave, tell her all would be right. But instead she heard his quiet footsteps as he walked out of the room, just as he had done a year before.
Chapter Five
After making sure the body was delivered to the morgue, William had gone to Lord Niles Hawthorne’s place of work, though he had little luck. Lord Hawthorne’s employers would not grant him access to the cases he’d been working on as a solicitor, but said they knew of nothing that would lead to his death and of no one who would wish him harm.
William had sent out requests to those that may be able to help, calling in what favors he could to gain copies of the case files. It would take some time, but he did not doubt he’d eventually have any information pertinent to the case, so he could follow up on any leads.
The coach pulled up to Lord Niles Hawthorne’s home. The flat was located in the decent yet trendy neighborhood of Bedford Square, in a spacious and elegant home. A footman, already expecting him, escorted him to Lord Hawthorne’s quarters.
Download this book for your ebook reader.
(Pages 1-28 show above.)