Page 20 of The Devil’s Submission

Scrambling into the conveyance, she bit her lip until he climbed in behind her and shut the door. As soon as they were moving, she leaned forward and took his hand. “Grayson, let me—”

“There is not a single thing that needs explaining,” he said, staring out the window. “It is all very clear. You came to London ostensibly for Sin and Grace’s wedding, but what you really wanted was a substantial bank draft. To ensure the likelihood of this happening, you gritted your teeth and altered your personality to please your weak, pathetic husband, while performing acts of a sexual nature that you loathed and mocked and sought absolution for later.”

“No,” she said fiercely. “Mother talked of a situation completely different to mine. And she is so very wrong.”

“You didn’t come to London seeking ten thousand pounds from me, then?”

“She charged me with that task. I didn’t want to, though, especially when I learned she’d stolen money from the academy. But they were facing ruin. Papa is terrible when it comes to finances. He didn’t follow your excellent investing advice and lost a great deal in stocks. But he is a good man who didn’t deserve to lose everything because of one mistake. What else could I do?”

“You could have asked me for the money at any time, Eliza. Instead you forced your way back into my life, working with me, dining with me, sharing my bed. You fucked me, owned me, stripped me bare and made me believe…and all the time it was about duty.”

“Grayson, no. I’ve never been so happy. Never felt so…so confident and beautiful as I have in the last few days. I love instructing you…controlling your pleasure…” she said frantically, but he tugged his hand away from her hold, again staring blankly out the window.

And her heart shattered.

…

Fifteen thousand pounds.

Signing his name on a bank draft, Devil blew on the ink to help it dry a little faster. He’d added the extra five to cover any interest, but also to allow the Brimleys some breathing room until their next quarterly payments arrived from their various tenants and holdings.

As it turned out, while Lord Brimley had made a series of catastrophic investment decisions, he wasn’t altogether clueless when it came to land improvements and crops. With proper drainage, some new equipment, and a decent steward overseeing the books, it was possible they could turn a small profit next year, and a healthy one the year after. Lady Brimley he still couldn’t stomach, especially her complete lack of remorse at stealing the money from her own school, but at least she hadn’t done anything like it before.

Actually, the only clueless person in this whole fucking mess was him. Duped not once but twice, by the woman he’d chosen to marry.

Fuck, it stung.

Especially after the way he’d carried on in the last few days, all happy and smug at his good fortune. No wonder Vice had wanted to punch him in the nose. At least his friend wouldn’t have to now, since the fates had done the job instead. It seemed he was indeed destined for the solitary life, which was fine. He’d done it before, he could do it again. The scraped-raw, hollow feeling would lessen over time, and soon it would be gone entirely as one day of blessed numbness blended into the next.

A knock sounded on the office door.

“Come in,” he called, not looking up as the door swung open. The harem had actually been very solicitous after he and Eliza returned home, somehow sensing that something had gone terribly wrong; when he’d ordered an early dinner so he might make headway on Fallen’s income and expenditure for the month, a tray had been promised at once.

“Good evening, Grayson.”

Very carefully, he put his pen down. “What are you doing here, Eliza?”

“Bringing you supper. I hoped…I want very much to talk to you.”

Devil rubbed a hand over his face, hating the fact that his body responded to her even now. Hating the width and breadth of such a pathetic need, that he still craved time and conversation with a woman who only did things for money. “I am a little hungry. What have the kitchens sent?”

Eliza set the tray down on his desk and lifted the lid. “Roasted beef, potatoes with butter and parsley, green beans…oh Grayson, your face! You look like you’ve been bathing in ink.”

A glance at his right hand revealed a thick smear of blue. Hell and damnation. He really needed to purchase a new pen and inkpot set. “Ah well, you won’t have to worry about it much longer.”

She stilled. “Won’t I?”

“Surely you’ll be returning to Lincolnshire shortly?”

“I have no plans to. In fact, I fear you may find me a very difficult guest to get rid of.”

Devil swallowed a forkful of green beans as if savoring the fresh, delicate flavor, when instead he was stalling for time. “This is quite unnecessary, Eliza. The draft is right here. I’ve added an extra five thousand to last them until next quarter. You don’t have to pretend anymore.”

“I am not pretending. The last few days have been the best of my life. Working with you again, living here at Fallen…I feel useful, not drifting along. And the lovemaking, good heavens, Grayson, do you think I could fake those responses? Anyone can scream or moan or gasp, I grant you that. But what about my skin, glistening and flushed pink? My swollen, rock hard nipples?”

“Don’t, Eliza,” he said gruffly, concentrating on not squirming in his chair.

But she continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “Not to mention my pussy. You saw and felt how wet I was. You licked that moisture up, put your tongue inside me to gather more. And when I came, I gripped your cock so tight, you always felt the pulses. I know you did, because then you filled me up with your seed. By the by, do you think we might have made a baby, Grayson? I’ve been thinking about it a lot. How much I would love to watch my belly grow big with your child. To hold our son or daughter in my arms.”