“No. I was careful.”

“Good.”

“Then I was right,” she said. “You wanted me to follow you?”

“Yes. I need to talk to you. About Franklin. You can’t marry him.”

His gruff tone made her heart beat faster. At the same time, her anger rose. “I see. Do the police approve all marriages now?”

“Only yours. You are engaged to him?”

His voice was calm, but full of rage. Louisa looked into his hazel eyes to find the fire high.

“No,” Louisa said. She wanted him to know. “The truth is, Gil did propose. I admit I didn’t discourage him from asking. He’d spoken to my mother and my cousin before he called on me. Such an old-fashioned gentleman, don’t you think? They were delighted.”

“And were you delighted?” Fellows watched her closely.

Louisa rubbed her arms, suddenly chilled. “It was very kind of him. Considering my current notoriety, it was brave of him to declare his intentions. But in all honesty—and no one but the family knows this—I haven’t given him my answer yet. So no, I am not officially engaged to him.”

Fellows lost his stiffness in an instant. “Thank God.” The words flowed with relief.

Louisa regarded him in surprise. “I thought you’d be pleased to hear I was engaged. That would keep tongues from wagging about me and you, wouldn’t it? And prevent you being taken off the investigation. I am letting people believe as they wish until I give Gil my final answer.”

“Why the devil should I be pleased?” His rage was back. “Use the betrothal as a blind if you want, but tell him no. You can’t marry Gilbert Franklin.”

“Why not? I believe you made it clear that you and I are not suited. Never will be. That you have no intention of trying to make us suit.” Louisa unlaced her arms to pick at her tight gloves. “You made it painfully clear.”

“This has nothing to do with what is between you and me. You can’t marry Franklin for the very simple reason that he is already married.”

Louisa had drawn a breath, ready to argue, then the breath lodged in her throat. “What?”

Fellows gave her a grim nod. “The Not-So-Honorable Mr. Franklin about six years ago married a woman in a village outside Rome. He has four children by her.”

Louisa staggered. She reached her hand out to the board wall to steady herself. Not enough support. She turned to put her back against it.

“Four children . . . No, that can’t be. You must be mistaken. You must have the wrong Mr. Franklin.”

“It’s not a mistake.” The words were flat, final.

“But . . .” Louisa wet her lips, finding a bit of cream she hadn’t managed to wipe away. “Good heavens, why didn’t you tell me before this? I’ve been considering accepting Gil’s offer. Seriously considering it, because you gave me no hope.”

“I didn’t know until yesterday evening. I ordered Sergeant Pierce to find out everything he could about Franklin, especially after his name turned up in Hargate’s notebook of sinners. I only had the telegrams from Rome last night. A copy of a parish register will follow in the post. Franklin married her all right. Legally. She’s the daughter of a farmer. But I suppose an earl’s son knew he needed a more acceptable bride to please his family and friends.”

Louisa remained against the wall, unable to make herself stand. Part of her continued to argue. The Roman police had to be wrong. Fellows was wrong. It must be a mistake.

But Louisa knew Lloyd Fellows. He was thorough. He would not make a statement like this until he was absolutely certain of its truth.

Disbelief fled, and along came anger. Louisa balled her fists. “That absolute rat!” She pushed herself off the wall and started to pace. “How dare he? To think, I felt sorry for him!”

Her agitated walking brought her up against Fellows, or maybe he’d stepped in front of her. He stood quietly, a rock she could cling to, a calm in the storm.

“And you say Hargate was blackmailing him?” Louisa asked. “Bloody hell.” The expletive came out—from Louisa, who’d been raised to never dream of swearing. “I can scarce believe it. Devil take all men.” She looked up at Fellows, who watched her from his solid height. “And you!” Her fists came up, and she thumped them once to his chest. “You made me fall in love with you. You made me start to believe you cared for me in return, and then you pushed me away. And I don’t mean because you were worried about risking the investigation. You implied that, even after the investigation was over, there’d be no hope. How dare you?”

She pummeled him a few times, but he didn’t move, didn’t flinch. When Louisa wound down, Fellows said, “In love.”

The words were flat, calm, as though he was too stunned to put more emotion behind them.

“Yes, in love. Good heavens, why else would I chase you about and throw myself at you like a ninny? I convinced myself I wanted a respectable marriage—to save my family’s reputation and to keep from being pitied, I thought. But I lied to myself. Pursuing a marriage was only an excuse to forget about you. But then you started to let me hope. And then you took that hope away.”

Louisa’s fists moved again, and Fellows grabbed her flailing hands.

“Louisa. Stop.” He frowned down at her, his hazel eyes holding something she didn’t understand.

“Why?” Louisa tried and failed to jerk away. “Why shouldn’t I shout at you? You deserve to be shouted at!”

“Louisa.” Fellows shook her once, hard. “You have to . . . stop.”

Louisa looked up at him, startled out of her frenzy. Fellows studied her a few heartbeats more, then he dragged her against him.

“You have to stop, sweetheart,” Fellows said. “Because I love you so much, it’s killing me.”

Chapter Sixteen

Fellows couldn’t believe he’d said the words, but he didn’t want to take them back. Not with Louisa gaping up at him, a fleck of cream still on the corner of her mouth.

When he’d peeked into the tea tent and seen her closing her mouth around the profiterole, the cream smearing across her lips, he’d had to turn away before he rushed in and hauled her out. Not only out of the tea tent, but out of Newmarket and back to London and his flat where he could have her all night. He’d smothered a groan, hoping no one noticed his sudden hard-on, and walked away with difficulty.

Fellows had wanted to catch her attention, because he needed to warn her off Mr. Franklin before it was too late. Betrothals could be as binding as marriage, especially if the marriage settlements had already been put in motion. Even if Louisa hated Fellows for the information, he refused to stand by and let Mr. Franklin lie to her and ruin her.

He’d gotten Louisa to follow him here so they wouldn’t be seen together. But now, alone with her, in the dim coolness of the stall, Fellows knew his mistake.

Louisa was tight against him, her eyes full of fire, her lips brushed with cream. He could no longer resist her—he only had so much strength. He leaned down and licked the side of her mouth.

The sparks he’d seen inside her ignited. Louisa twined her arms around Fellows and pulled him down to her for a full, hard, and desperate kiss.

They were not leaving. Fellows scraped her to him, his hand in her hair. Her hat came away and fell to the hay, and he was pulling her up into him, his arm solidly around her.

Louisa kissed him with urgency. Her hands scrabbled on his back, his neck, his shoulders. She wasn’t an experienced kisser, not seductive and sultry like a courtesan, and Fellows didn’t care.

She was his. A few steps had her against the wall. Fellows lifted her, hooking his arm around her hips. Her skirts came up as her leg twined around his. Fellows pushed the petticoats out of the way to find her warm thigh, bare under the lawn of her loose drawers.

He broke the kiss to touch his lips to her face, her hair. “Louisa,” he said, the whisper hoarse. “Marry me.”

Her intake of breath was sharp. “What?”

“Marry me. I can promise you damn all, but I need you in my life. I’ll take care of you better than that bastard Franklin ever could.”

“I know.” Louisa touched his face. “I know.”

“Then say yes. You are so high above me it makes my head spin to look at you, but I can’t let you go. Those bloody aristos will use you and make you miserable. I promise I will never do that.” He touched his forehead to hers, brushed a hard thumb across her cheek. “Please, Louisa.”

“Yes.” Louisa let out a breathless laugh. “Yes, I will. I’ll marry you. Dearest Lloyd.”

“Thank God.” Fellows’ prayer was heartfelt. “Thank God.”

He sank to his knees and pulled her down with him, cradling her in his arms as he laid her down on the soft hay. His fervent hands unlaced her drawers and pulled them off, moving her skirts to cushion her. This was not what Fellows wanted for her, no elegance here, but he couldn’t stop. His was a crude and fierce need, animal-like—fitting that they were in a stable.

Louisa didn’t stop him or push him away. She slid her hand through his hair, the desire in her eyes reflecting his.

Fellows got his buttons open, his trousers loosened. He moved his hand to her bare thigh again, then higher, his fingers sinking into her breathtaking heat. Louisa started, and he softened his touch, knowing she’d not felt this before.

He gently stroked her opening, feeling the wetness increase. She was excited for him, needy. His cock pulsing with the rapid beating of his heart was just as needy.

“I won’t hurt you,” he said, or thought he said. “I promise.”

She nodded, her eyes growing heavy with pleasure. Fellows’ fingers continued their dance, and Louisa’s body became more and more pliant. She murmured something in bliss, her smile widening and warming.

Fellows laced his arm behind her hips and lifted her to him; at the same time he fitted himself to her and slowly, slowly pushed inside.

His world changed. A mix of wild excitement and incredible tenderness spiraled through him, in addition to the wonder of being tightly inside her. Her head went back, eyes closing.

Her small gasp as he broke through her barrier made him stop. Fellows caressed her, soothed her, his hands shaking. He knew he’d hurt her; he hadn’t wanted it to.

“Are you all right?” he asked her softly.

“Yes, I’m . . .” Louisa rose to him, her body knowing what to do. “I’m all right. I love you.”

Whatever Fellows tried to say in reply was incoherent. He slid on inside her, a crazed feeling flooding him as they connected.

He lost all sense of time, of place. He was with Louisa, bodies together. Her fingers, still hugged by leather gloves, brushed his face. The cool of them lent a sharp contrast to the heat of her. Erotic, joyful.

Fellows kissed her, their lips seeking each other’s, bruising. He thrust inside her, growing stronger as she opened more for him. This beautiful woman with her soft scent, her sweet body, was his.

“Louisa,” he said. “Louisa. Bloody hell.”

Too soon, too soon . . . His climax hit him. He kept thrusting into her, Louisa crying out with it and her own pleasure, her gloved fingers gripping his shoulders.

Fellows went on, hips rocking. He needed her, needed all of her. He couldn’t form the words, but the thoughts were there.

You are the beauty I’ve been seeking all my life. My existence was dark, grim, full of struggle, until you. You are the light that pushes the darkness away. When I’m with you, I can see my way, and I can breathe again.

All that came out was, “I love you.”

Louisa smiled, her eyes soft with the passion of what they did. “I love you too. My dearest Lloyd.”

And that was enough.

* * *

They were sitting up together against the wall, she on his lap. Louisa felt stretched and different. The world looked different to her too, as though colors she’d never seen before had suddenly become clear to her.

She leaned against Lloyd’s shoulder, he with his arm around her. They’d kissed quietly for a long time on the hay, then he’d withdrawn, lifted Louisa to his lap, and held her close.

Louisa didn’t want to leave for the harsh light of the afternoon, not yet. They sat on the giving hay, not speaking. Basking.

Lloyd took her left hand in his, slid off her glove, and pressed a kiss to her third finger. “I will give you a ring. It won’t have nearly the diamond Franklin would have given you, but it will be something.”