With a quick, heated kiss he picked me up and set me down on the desk, spreading my legs and pushing my skirt and petticoat up over my thighs.
“Griffin, we don’t have time—”
“We have time for this. I’ve wanted to do this since that first night when you gave yourself to me,” he answered, tugging at the ribbon to release my drawers. A moment later that garment went flying as Griffin pulled me forward to the edge of his desk, my legs resting on his shoulders as he knelt before me.
“Griffin?” I asked as the dark curls brushed my thighs. “Griffin?”
His mouth was warm on my flesh as he kissed a path up my thighs to that spot that had recently been making strident demands regarding him. “GRIFFIN!”
His lips were a brand burning into my tender flesh as he his tongue did things I had no idea a tongue could do. He kissed, he sucked, he licked and nibbled and caressed, touching me in ways that made my heart pound and my breath stop in my throat. I tensed as he eased a finger into me, the familiar tightness of the winding coil inside me promising bliss. A second finger joined the first and suddenly I was there, blazing a trail into the heavens like a fiery comet. I clutched his head to me and cried out his name, almost sobbing with the pleasure of his selfless homage to our love.
He held me until I recovered myself enough to speak.
“Was that, by any chance, in the book of the Borneo natives?”
He chuckled and kissed me. “No.”
I licked my lips. “Hmm. That’s…different. Is it…can I…do men enjoy reciprocal treatment?”
He kissed me again. “Very much so.”
“Hmm. I will make a note of that, but before I can explore the idea further, I want you to go back around to the desk. There’s a subject upon which I need to speak, and I can’t do it when you are doing that.”
He withdrew his hand, grinned, then handed me my drawers and leaned against the desk, watching as I put them on. “You have my undivided attention.”
I shook out my skirts and took a deep breath. “About the next suffrage protest—”
He scowled. Before he could interrupt me, I explained about the planned appearance at the candidate’s meeting. “I know you are against my attending, and I appreciate your concern, but I have decided to fulfill my promise even though it is against your wishes, and the wishes of my family. I have spent a good deal of time thinking about you lately, thinking about us. It did not take me long to realize that no matter how strongly I feel about assisting the cause of women’s emancipation, I feel stronger about you.”
He started toward me. I held my hands out to keep him back. “Let me finish, please. I can’t imagine life without you. For that reason I have decided that, after the next event, I will give up my active involvement in women’s suffrage.”
He looked at me in wonder, and I gazed back at him, happy with my decision, knowing it was right, sniffling just a little at the tears that had somehow slipped from my eyes.
Griffin set down the pipe he had been holding, then came to me, taking my face in his hands and kissing away the tears. I tugged on his hair until his lips claimed mine, and told him in every way I could just how much I loved him.
I don’t expect you to give up your work. If it’s that important to you, I can live with it. All I want is to keep you from being hurt.”
Love for this wonderful, understanding man flooded me. It was what I had been hoping for all my adult years—a man who could respect me as well as love me. I placed my hand on his cheek. “As long as I have you, nothing can hurt me. Helena and I have decided that we will be content supporting the cause without endangering ourselves in the protests themselves.”
He started unbuttoning my shirtwaist, kissing each bit of exposed flesh. “An excellent solution,” he agreed, and slipped a few more buttons through the holes.
A sudden loud noise from outside the room disrupted him. We both turned toward the door as it was flung open. Griffin’s grip on my waist tightened as he beheld his brother, red with fury and sputtering incoherently. I quickly redid my buttons, peering over Griffin’s shoulder at the earl.
“Griffin,” Lord Sherringham roared, “What have you done! How dare you tell that—that—” he glared at me, evidently for inspiration, “—that young scoundrel that he may marry Helena? I found him now, in the conservatory, proposing to her. He had the audacity to say you had given him permission.”
I sank into the chair behind me, watching Griffin closely. He turned slowly. “I have given my permission, since you will not.”
“How dare you! Have you considered who he is? His expectations? His means?”
“He loves her and she loves him. He is a good man, and will make her happy. What else should I consider?”
“I forbid this marriage. I cannot forbid you your own mistake,” he waved a pudgy hand toward me, “but, by God, I can halt another disaster in this family.”
“You can’t stop Helena from marrying, and I would hope that you have the decency to give her an ample allowance until she is in control of her own fortune,” Griffin said, his hands fisted.
“I will do no such thing!” Lord Sherringham seemed to be calming down, but I did not care for the look in his eye. “Very well, as you point out, she is free to marry whomever she chooses. But I am free to dispense her money as I see fit, and I will not see her wasting any of it on that fortune hunter.”
I expected Griffin to argue the point, although I knew it would do no good. He didn’t, however, he simply jammed his hands in his pockets, and said mildly, “It doesn’t matter how tight you hold on, Sherry. She will have her money in four years and until then—” He shrugged.
A wave of love swept over me as I watched him. I knew then he would arrange to help Robert back onto his feet in a manner that even the sensitive Robert would accept. Helena would have Robert, Griffin and I would have each other, and everyone would be happy. I gazed at the love of my life, my eyes brimming with admiration and love.
“I’m sure you will be turning us out now, so that you might welcome that woman. I will tell Letitia. Mark my words, Griffin,” Lord Sherringham spat out the words, “you will regret the day you made this decision.”
He spun around and slammed the door behind him as he left.
Griffin scowled at the door until I placed a hand on his arm. The muscles beneath my fingers were tense and taut.
“I shouldn’t have come today. I’m sorry that I’ve caused so much trouble.” I looked into the amber eyes I loved so much, dark now with anger, and placed a finger on his temple. “Did you know that your vein is bulging again?”
He stared at me for a minute, then threw back his head and laughed. Grasping me in another bone crushing embrace, he said, “My darling Cassandra. What man could resist such lover’s talk?”
Shortly after that we went in search of Helena and Robert. We found them were we had left them, although not in the same state. Helena was weeping on Robert’s shoulder, and he was flushed and red with anger.
“Ah. I see the traces of a visit from Sherry,” Griffin said dryly. He handed his sister a handkerchief. “Helena, stop crying.”
Helena took the offered item, and attempted to wipe her tears. “But, Griffin! Harold said we could not marry, and he was rude to Robert!”
Griffin pulled Robert to one side, and spoke with him in a low voice. I went to Helena, and put my arm around her. “Don’t worry, my dear, Griffin will see to everything. He has already seen Lord Sherringham, and—” I sighed with happiness. “—he was magnificent.”
Her expression lightened. “I’m so happy you’re not fighting with Griffin anymore. He loves you so very much.”
“I think we have worked things out,” I said, my eyes wandering to his admirable profile.
Griffin took us home a short while later in his motorcar. I had a few minutes to ask him if he’d had any luck finding incriminating evidence against Lord Sherringham, but he had not found anything.
“You forbade me to confront h
im,” he reminded me. “If I could just get him alone, I could make him tell me what he’s been up to.”
“Be patient, my darling. He will reveal his hand in some way or another.” I started into the house, then stopped. “And for heaven’s sake, be careful!”
I was at Mrs. Heywood’s door early the next morning, consumed with curiosity about the subject of her note. Her butler escorted me into the morning room, where I sat drumming my fingers on a lovely walnut table for a quarter of an hour. Mrs. Heywood arrived, apologizing for her tardiness, received my congratulations at her release from prison, and settled down to business.
“We have decided to move up the date for the candidate’s meeting protest to one held tomorrow evening. Due to problems within the Union the officers have decided to disseminate details about the protest to only those people who will participate. As both you and Miss St. John have committed yourselves to the protest, I thought it best to tell you in person about our arrangements.”
I listened with eagerness as she detailed the plan for the local candidate’s meeting, at which the general public was encouraged to ask questions of the various candidates. The National Women’s Suffrage Union would send a delegation of five members: one would act as speaker to ask each of the candidates whether or not they would support women’s rights, the other four would stand in solidarity behind her.
“I have been asked to be the speaker, but feel it a task beyond my strength,” she smiled wanly. “Mrs. Knox has kindly offered to stand in for me, and will ask the questions of the representatives.”
We were interrupted by her butler, summoning her to a telephone call. “I must take this call, my dear, so I will let you be on your way. I do want to caution you about giving out this information to anyone other than Miss St. John. As you know, we suspect that a certain member might use the information to cause a scene that would be detrimental to the cause.”
“I won’t say a word to anyone but Helena,” I promised.
As I left her house, I decided it would be beneficial to my bemused brain if I walked home rather than took the cab. I paid off the cabby, and started toward Mayfair. The air was heavy, but the sight of new green buds on the empty tree branches gave hope of brighter days. My spirits lifted despite the gray clouds.
Passing a nearby church, I paused to watch a wedding procession. The bride was lovely in white satin and orange blossoms, sending my thoughts inexorably spinning towards Griffin. The young couple stepped into an open carriage and drove off to the cheers of their friends. As I started forward I spied a clergyman in traditional black garb.
The sight of the man in profile flooded me with memories of three men cowering in the corner of a small room as Annie yelled and threw crockery. Mr. Hope, Freddy had called him. Chills ran down my spine as I remembered Helena’s faltering voice saying that, along with her brother, Oliver Hope was her trustee.
“Mr. Hope!” If it was the same man, it would be a tangible connection between Merlin, Percy, Freddy, and Lord Sherringham, the very proof that we sought. With these thoughts chasing around my mind, I immediately hailed a cab.
An overturned dray near Griffin’s house had me setting off on foot for the last block. As I approached the house, a cab arrived from the other direction, and a figure alighted. Thinking it was Helena, I raised my hand in greeting. The woman who walked up to the door did not see me, but I quickly saw from her short stature that she was not Helena. She wore a hooded coat and dark dress, and something about her sent a chill of premonition down my spine. I walked a little faster, thinking she looked familiar.
Griffin’s butler opened the door and accepted a letter from the woman, who then turned and, without looking to either side, stepped back into the cab. A brief gust of wind blew back her hood as she entered the cab.
There was no mistaking the features of Maggie Greene.
Lost in thought as I watched the cab pull away, I stood next to the stone steps leading up to the front door. Maggie Greene and Lord Sherringham? What would they have in common? Certainly they did not share the same political beliefs, and yet, the suffrage movement was the one tie that bound them.
The butler did not even raise an eyebrow at my request to speak with his master, but informed me that he was out. I admit that at that news I wrung my hands.
“Lady Helena is in, miss, if you would like to speak with her.”
“Helena! Yes! She would know if her Mr. Hope is a clergyman or not. At least I could get that point cleared up. I will see her, please.”
I was shown into the dark parlor to await her. As I passed a half-moon marble table that stood next to the front door, I noticed the silver salver waiting with a stack of letters for their recipients to claim them. I paced the floor of the parlor anxiously, trying to piece my terrible thoughts together. The sight of the letter in Maggie’s hand tormented me. I had to know if it was addressed to Lord Sherringham or to Helena.
With exquisite care I opened the parlor door and looked out. The hall was empty. I tip-toed to the marble table and stared with a growing sense of horror at the letter on top.
It was addressed to Lord Sherringham and marked urgent.
There is no excuse for my action except one: I was trying to prevent the further attacks upon the man I loved. I snatched the letter off the stack and raced back to the parlor. The letter was sealed with wax and bore no clue as to the sender. I could not in all conscience open the letter myself, but I hoped Griffin would not feel bound by similar morals.
“Dearest Cassandra,” Helena cried as she entered the parlor and hugged me.
I held the letter behind my back, embarrassed by the theft. “Griffin—do you know where he is?”
Her smile faded at the urgent note in my voice. “Why, yes. He has gone to consult his solicitor. He told Harold he was having a will drawn up. He should be home soon, if you would like to wait for him. Robert went with him to see about some other matter.”
“He told—” Fear struck me with an almost palpable blow. I had a hard time swallowing the lump that suddenly appeared in my throat. “And what did Lord Sherringham say to that?”
“He smiled. It…it wasn’t a very pleasant smile, but he said nothing…” Her voice trailed off.
I felt almost lightheaded with fear as I brought out the letter and held it wordlessly before Helena.
“I don’t understand, why do you have a letter addressed to Harold?”
“It was delivered by hand. That is, I saw it delivered just a few minutes ago…by Maggie Greene.”
Helena’s eyes opened wide in disbelief. “Maggie? What would Maggie have to say to Harold?”
I paced the length of the room, barely able to get the words out. “Helena, I must see Griffin. I can’t open this letter, but he could. We have to know what Maggie is communicating to your brother, we have to know if he—if he is planning—”
A horrified expression stole across her face as she clutched my arm in a fierce grip. “Cassandra, you can’t mean that Harold has something to do with what you told me about Maggie’s plans?”
I nodded miserably.
“It can’t be!” As I believe I have had opportunity to mention, there is a streak of steel running through Helena that is not apparent from a casual glance. It was evident now. “We must confront Harold with this!”
“We can’t! If we wait for Griffin—”
“No. Harold is at home now, I just left him in the library. He was speaking with a business acquaintance, but as soon as Mr. Jones leaves, I will—”
“Mr. Jones?” I all but shrieked, horrified at the name. “Mr. William—or Merlin—Jones?”
She paused. “I believe his name was William. Do you know him?”
I crumpled into a chair, my knees no longer able to hold me. “Helena, you must tell me, did Mr. Jones have a gold tooth?”
“Why, yes, he did. Cassandra, are you ill? Shall I fetch someone?” She ran to me as I moaned, my hands clutching my head.
“Everything revolves around your broth
er, everything comes back to him. Maggie, Freddy, Merlin—it all comes back to one person.”
She was on her knees before me, holding me as I rocked back and forth trying to deny the terrible truths that finally fell into place.
“You are distraught, my dear. I will fetch you some smelling salts.”
I clutched her hand as a blinding flash of light lit up my brain. “You said you just left them—your brother and Mr. Jones—are they still here? Helena, I must hear what they are saying. That would be the proof we need!”
“Yes, I’m sure they’re still in the library, but proof of what? What is it you suspect? I fear from your countenance that it is something terrible. Oh Cassandra, what do you think is happening?”
I thought furiously. The library. I hadn’t been in Griffin’s library, only his study. “Is there another door to the library other than the one to the hall? Somewhere we can listen to their conversation?”
“No, only the one door. Although there is the alcove.”
“The alcove? Could one hear a discussion in the library from the alcove?”
“Yes, it’s a small opening on the first floor that overlooks the library. But Cassandra, you haven’t answered—”
And I didn’t answer her questions. Instead I leaped up and grasped her hand, dragging her with me as I ran out into the hallway and up the stairs. “Where is it? Where is the alcove?”
She showed me down a narrow hall to a small round room with windows on one side, and a curved bench following a dark wooden railing. I peered over the edge and looked down into the library. The room was long and shaped like an L with the alcove on the wrong side of the short end. To the left, a paneled wall of some five feet blocked my view into the rest of the library. I held my breath and heard the soft murmur of voices.
“Is there no other way to hear?” I whispered.
“No.”
“Then I shall just have to lean out and do my best. Hold onto my skirt.”