Page 49 of Never a Duchess
“We want to see Madame Delafont.” Dounreay handed over the letter before the man could curse and slam the door in their faces. “We’re here on official business. We come on behalf of the Crown.”
Dounreay did not present his card or give his name.
The fellow read the letter and observed the official seal stamp.
“If ye’d rather, we can enter the auditorium and have a constable remove Madame Delafont from the stage. We would hate to have a reason to send the singer back to France.”
As if pricked with a pin, the attendant jumped to attention. He thrust the letter back at Dounreay, stepped aside, and beckoned them over the threshold.
“Follow me. You can wait in Madame Delafont’s room until the curtain falls. Mr Warren won’t want you wandering about, ruining the performance.”
He led them down the dim candlelit corridor while those watching the performance of Rossini’sLa Cenerentolahad the privilege of gaslight.
The fellow opened the dressing room door and made them wait while he lit the lamps. “Don’t go rummaging around. Madame Delafont don’t like people touching her things.”
Upon entering, one got an instant picture of Madame Delafont’s life. Pretty hothouse flowers filled four vases, some wilting, some freshly cut this morning. Yet the heavy scent of perfume obliterated nature’s sweet bouquet.
“We’re here on the King’s business,” Dounreay reminded the attendant. “Ensure Madame Delafont meets us in this room, or we’ll arrest ye for hindering an investigation.”
Lillian waited until the man closed the door behind him, then wandered about the room, searching for clues. The best one would be the opera singer’s reaction when she found them snooping about in her private domain.
Madame Delafont shared Lillian’s trait of tidiness. Clothes were stored neatly away in the armoire. All hats were in boxes and organised by size. Hair pins lived in a china pot in a drawer of perfectly folded ribbons. Did the opera singer suffer from the same inner turmoil? Were her outward habits a means of maintaining control of a life gone awry?
“Your Grace,” Lillian whispered, noting the orderly row of perfume bottles on the dressing table. “I see a bottle of For Lily and a bottle of May Bell perfume. You might want to compare fragrances.”
But the duke did not have perfume on his mind.
Dounreay crossed the room, his hot hand resting on her waist as he pulled her around to face him. “Call me Callan or Dounreay. I think we’ve passed the need for formalities. We should take advantage of this time alone to continue our research.”
“To finish what we started in the maze?”
“Nae finish exactly, but a means to help ease the ache.”
“Then you should kiss me.”
They didn’t wait a second longer. Their lips met, crashing together as if compelled by a magnetic force. Their need was so tangible it crackled in the air, sparked as quick as wildfire.
The kiss was passionate, all tangling tongues and frantic touches, the rampant mating of mouths.
Oh, this man could tempt a woman to wickedness.
Heat spread through her body. She went limp in his arms, though she could feel the solid length of his manhood pressing against her abdomen.
He moaned into her mouth, made her weak-kneed and wet between her thighs. Her sex clenched—a persistent pumping playing havoc with her control. All she could think of was hiking up her skirts and spreading her legs wide to accommodate him.
A rugged Highlander lived beneath his fine title and expensive tailoring, one who would make love to her outdoors amongst the heather if she begged. And she was so close to begging him to fill the emptiness, to make her forget the pain of heartbreak.
Indeed, he pushed her arousal to new heights when he kissed her neck, sucked her earlobe and whispered, “I mean to give ye what ye need. Say now if ye’ve had a change of heart.”
A sensual moan escaped her. “What will you do?”
“Pleasure ye.”
She had heard the term and knew he meant to slip his fingers between her legs and massage her until she shuddered and cried his name. “Here? Madame Delafont will be back momentarily.”
“We’ve time if ye’re willing.”
He waited for her to nod before pulling away suddenly, leaving her feeling cold and exposed. Dragging a red velvet chair to the door, he wedged the top rail under the doorknob and checked no one could enter.
