Free Obsession by Katherine Sutcliffe Page A

than that.”
    “I know for a fact that you’ve blown through your monthly stipend and your father refuses you another farthing for the moment. I also know that you’re in debt to your ass to the Groom Porter—just as I am. If they’re threatening you with collection as doggedly as they’re threatening me, you would do just about anything to get your hands on money.”
    Whitting declared, “This from the old dog who would have sold his soul to Edwina to settle his financial woes. Talk about the pot calling the kettle black.”
    “At least I wouldn’t have been stabbing my best friend in the back…would I, Whitting?”
    Whitting snorted and turned away.
    Parkhurst gave me a sardonic smile. “Seriously, my Duke. You look like hell. Is it really that bad?”
    “Worse than you could ever imagine.”
    The humor disappearing from his face, Parkhurst followed my gaze to the moor. “Sorry to hear it. I suppose there’s nothing we can do to help?”
    “No.”
    “What do you intend to do now? About your grandmother, I mean. I vow the whole of England is holding its breath waiting for your next move.”
    “I’m not sure. But I’ll tell you this: she’d better stay away. From Maria. And from me.” I cut my gaze to his. “You might pass on the word should you happen to bump into her along the way.”
     
    I AWOKE SUDDENLY, SHIVERING. I HAD BEEN dreaming again of Maria, of falling to my knees beside an abandoned mine shaft, calling her name, and looking down into the dark where flames writhed like serpents.
    Only it wasn’t her face that looked back at me from the inferno, but my own, mouth open in a silent scream of horror.
    Naked between my sheets, I rolled my head and did my best to focus my blurred vision on the open window. Night shadows were fast creeping over the landscape, and I found myself watching, breathless, for the first flicker of light from the smelts. The breeze rolling in felt bracing, and I shivered again as the memory of Maria in a blue cotton dress sparkled in my mind, obliterating the nightmare.
    My need to see her in that moment, to assure myself that my removing her from the asylum had not been a dream, filled me with a desperation that made my chest ache. Yet Bertha had told me to stay away—just for a while—as if my presence agitated Maria’s sensibilities.
    Daft bastard, of course my presence would agitate her sensibilities, I reminded myself. If there was a solitary ember of sanity left in her, she would—should—hate me with every fiber of her being.
    “You missed dinner,” Edwina whispered into my ear.
    I turned my head and stared into her drowsy eyes. Her naked breasts were nestled against me, one thigh resting over my loins. Her hair formed a copper blaze upon the pillow.
    “God,” I said hoarsely. “I didn’t get that drunk, did I?”
    “What do you think?” She gave me a languid smile.
    “I seem to recall telling you to get the hell out of my bath—that was just before Parkhurst and Whitting burst in with some wild rambling about Herbert falling headfirst into the rain barrel.”
    She slid her hand down my belly. I caught her wrist, stopping her.
    “Then I recall sending you to see about the poor bastard. I’m quite certain I was fully embraced by oblivion by the time you returned. Besides, I sense no fresh claw marks on my ass.”
    With a huff of exasperation, she rolled to her back.
    “Have Parkhurst and Whitting gone?” I asked, glancing again toward the window, where the first tinge of firelight had begun to glimmer on the distant craggy summit.
    Soon Thomas would be trooping with others into the mine, and I found my mind drifting to that deep, dark place where men toiled to survive. Normal men. Those who had not been born in a privileged family. To…aristocracy.
    And what of Maria?
    Christ. I had waited three long years to embrace her again, and yonder, beyond my ability to see her, to touch her, she remained with a total stranger.
    “Quite the contrary.