He has remarried! Lady Jacqueline D'Annis. He stole my son for sins only imagined and yet has done far worse. His is truly the act of the depraved. I am still the Countess of Langley—and yet a woman in England lives by that title. A woman shares my husband's bed and his life, mothers my child. That is what I cannot forgive. Lady Upworth could not bear to tell me until I made plans to travel to England. She admitted that Langley has told everyone that I am dead. I will return to England and I will see my son. Langley will not dare deny me now.
March 7, 1807
Journal of Anna Selwyn, Countess of Langley
The sound of the door opening surprised Drake.
He had expected no visit from his wife on this night.
He felt guilty for abandoning her on their wedding day, but if he had stayed, he feared his fury at her accusations would overflow and burn them both. In an attempt to focus on something besides his wife's painful lack of trust, he had gone to Merewether Shipping, not expecting to discover anything new in broad daylight.
He had been wrong on that count and found it incredibly ironic that after all the late nights he'd spent watching the warehouse, the thief had acted during the day.
He still didn't know if it was Emerson or his assistant and thought Thea's supposition it could be someone else very unlikely, but orders had been given for the transfer of a shipment from the warehouse. According to the spy Drake had planted in Merewether's warehouse, it was a shipment of goods that should have been part of the cargo brought on an investment ship from Sri Lanka, goods not yet sold.
Instead, the goods had been marked for delivery to a small warehouse located not a mile from Merewether Shipping. Drake had followed the shipment along with one of his men and waited in the shadows for Emerson or his assistant to show up. They had waited in vain. Drake had left two men watching the building, sure that it housed more goods stolen from Merewether Shipping.
They were given instructions to contact him if anyone else arrived or the goods were moved again.
The sound of Thea moving across the floor toward his bed affected him like a siren's call, and all thought of the investigation disappeared like morning mist.
He had returned expecting a cold bed on his wedding night, convinced Thea had no interest in sharing it after her unprovoked attack in the carriage.
So what was she doing tiptoeing across his floor? He bloody well wasn't in the mood for another argument.
She quietly made her way over to his bed, stopping when her wrapper brushed his counterpane. "Drake?"
He didn't respond immediately, and she put her hand on his shoulder and shook him. "Pierson. Wake up. I have something I need to say."
His hand shot out in the darkness and gripped her wrist. To hell with arguing. She would feel better, and so would he, if they made love. She squealed as he yanked her down onto the bed and rolled over to pin her to the feather ticking.
He kissed her, his mouth open and hot. He allowed all the pent-up hunger he felt for her to come out in that kiss.
She let out a startled gasp and then returned his passion with an ardor that belied her earlier anger or a current desire to argue. He had her wrapper off and was working on her nightgown when she protested.
"Don't you want to hear my apology?"
Apology?
He leaned down and kissed the breast he had just bared. "I want to hear you moan."
She did. Right then and several more times over the next hour. He made love to her until they were both limp and exhausted.
She lay cuddled against his side, her fingers splayed across his chest.
He said her name.
"What?"
"Now I'll hear your apology."
He smiled in the darkness when she laughed.
She grew silent, then leaned up and met his gaze in the shadows. "I truly am sorry I accused you of marrying me for money and position."
"I married you because I
wanted to, Thea. It is as simple as that."