Moonlit Memoirs: The Tangled Ties of Regency Hearts

Chapter Seven

Sam stood in the dimly lit cobbled street, his eyes fixed on the corner where the lifeless body of the young carriage driver was found. They boy's pale face had bore the unmistakable signs of struggle, and the crimson stain on his chest had been a stark reminder of the brutality that had befallen him. Now there was only a faint, dark spot where his blood had pooled beneath him. The gas lamps cast eerie shadows, adding an air of sombreness to the scene.
Inspector Smith, Sam's trusted right-hand man and best investigator, as well as a friend, approached with a serious expression. "It's a gruesome sight", he remarked, his voice laced with a mixture of sympathy and detachment that came with years of investigating such crimes.
Sam nodded, his gaze never leaving the dark, dried blood. "Tell me what you've learned, Smith."
The inspector cleared his throat, glancing around to ensure they were not overheard. "It appears that the young lad was entangled in a love triangle."
Sam's brows furrowed. "Elaborate."
"It seems he was involved with a girl from the town, Emily. However, there was another lad, a rival by the name of Robert, who also had affection for Emily. Tensions had been simmering for some time", said the other officer of the law.
Sam absorbed the information, his mind working through the implications. "I see. Find out everything you can about Emily and Robert, family names, addresses, backgrounds. I want to know who they are and where they were when this happened."
Smith nodded, "Of course."
As they started walking back to their waiting carriages, Sam couldn't shake the feeling that something about this case didn't add up. It couldn't be as simple as a crime of passion, not in his experience.
Smith chose this moment to distract him from his thoughts. "Are we meeting at the club tonight with Williams and Bennet? If I'm not wrong, you owe me a few drinks."
Sam looked at him, a crooked smile on his face. "And if I recall correctly, you owe me money because you don't know how to play your cards."
Smith chuckled. "Oh, I'll beat you through and through tonight, Sharma."
They reached their rides just as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the street. Sam turned to Smith, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "See you there then."
With a nod of acknowledgement, Sam climbed into his carriage, the mystery of the murder still gnawing at him as they set off for the club.

The Black's Club exuded an air of discreet elegance. It may have been small in size, but it was grand in reputation. Located not too far from the Sharma Estate, it was frequented by lords, dukes, and other high-society gentlemen. Its wood panelled walls were adorned with paintings and portraits of the past club members.
Sam sat at a mahogany table, a glass of port in one hand, a cigarette smouldering in the corner of his mouth while he was intently studying his hand of cards. The game was not going well for him and a furrow creased his forehead. Seated around the table were his friends and colleague, Inspector Smith, Lord Williams and Lord Bennett. It was their third game, and Williams seemed to have an uncanny knack for winning tonight.
"Damn you, Williams, you must be cheating or something", Sam muttered, his irritation bubbling to the surface.
Bennett chuckled lightly, taking a sip of his drink. "You've lost your cunning talent, my friend."
Smith, the ever-practical investigator, chimed in with a grin, "Indeed. Could it be connected to the recent nuptials?"
Sam shot a scowl at his friend. "Shut up and play. It's your turn", he reminded Smith.
Despite his efforts, Sam lost yet another round, this time to Bennett. He let out an exasperated curse. "This is preposterous!"
Williams, reviling in his winning streak, leaned back in his chair. "It's alright, Sharma. Happens when you have a brand new wife waiting at home."
Before Sam could tell him to shove his winnings in a precise place, they were distracted by the club's door opening to let in a few ladies, all dressed with wide necklines and wearing sensual smiles towards the gentlemen. Sam refrained from remarking that technically ladies of the night were not allowed in gentlemen's clubs. Instead, he took the opportunity to finish his drink and rose from his chair.
"You still owe me money, Smith", he remarked with a grin as he bid farewell to his friends. He headed for the door, leaving behind the spirited revelry of the Black's Club to make his way home.
It was a clear night, and the soft glow of street lamps illuminated the cobblestone roads. As the carriage moved steadily through the dimly lit streets of the city, Sam couldn't help but reflect on the words of his friends. Alone at last, he found himself admitting that they might be right. Ever since him and Mira had started sleeping in the same bed, his focus had been somewhat divided. He was grateful to her for inviting him to share their four-poster bed, but he couldn't deny the distraction it posed. Thoughts of her, her movements in the night, and the proximity of her warm body had intruded upon his concentration. There were nights when he felt her shifting in her sleep, sometimes inching closer to him. He couldn't rule out the possibility that he did the same. Occasionally, he woke up to find their bodies dangerously close, her form gently brushing against his. It was both maddening and exhilarating. Just yesterday, he had woken to a particularly tantalising scenario. Her nightgown had ridden up during the night, exposing her bare leg, which lay across his knee. The feel of her smooth skin against his was almost too much to bear. He had resisted the urge to grab her leg resting on his and pull her closer to feel more of her. Instead, he had manoeuvred himself with great care to avoid waking her, silently slipping out of the bed to start his day, leaving behind the intimate temptation of their shared sleep.
Sam sighed softly as he reached the estate doors, realising that his friends were right to tease him about his preoccupied mind. It wasn't that he regretted sharing a bed with Mira; in fact, there was a part of him that relished it. But he couldn't deny that it was a double-edged sword, one that filled his nights with sweet torture and anticipation.
The Sharma Estate lay shrouded in the stillness of the night as Sam returned home. The mansion seemed to exhale a sigh of quietude, its grandeur softened by the veil of darkness. Not a soul stirred, and silence reigned supreme. Sam moved through the corridors, his footsteps a mere whisper against the polished floors. He eventually reached the door to his bedroom. As he pushed it open with the utmost care, it creaked faintly, but the room remained undisturbed.
He made his way to the bed, where his wife lay asleep, her form partially illuminated by a faint light. The covers clung to her waist, a concession to the warm night. The sheer, white gown she wore did little to hide her lush curves, her brown skin a striking contrast against the fabric. Sam lingered with his eyes on the subtle contours of her body, the faint outline of her nipples visible through the delicate material.
Turning away, he couldn't deny the sensations that stirred within him. Yet, he reasoned that there was no need for guilt. He was acutely aware of her secret glances, those stolen moments when he felt her eyes lingering upon his naked body while he was changing. But every time he had turned, he always found her with her eyes shut in false slumber.
With this in mind, Sam decided there was no need for pretence. He undressed beside the bed, discarding his clothes one piece at a time. He slipped into a pair of trousers and then, with cautious tenderness, eased himself into the bed next to his apparently sleeping wife. The mattress dipped slightly as he settled beside her, turning to face her, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from her body. The allure of her proximity was impossible to ignore, and he couldn't refrain the longing that simmered beneath the surface. He wanted her, and he wanted her badly. Yet, they remained in the embrace of the night, each aware of the other's presence, each sharing the same secrets in the silence of their shared bed.

The morning's delicate embrace was far from innocent. Sam awakened to find himself entwined with Mira in a position that could only be described as compromising.
He lay pressed against her back, his entire body moulded to hers. His hand rested gently on her arm, their legs entangled in an intimate dance of limbs.
As he stirred, a soft sensation brushed against his face. Mira had moved slightly, her hair tickling his skin. It was clear that she was awake, as she moved her hair away from his face. Yet, she made no effort to create distance between them or adjust their sensual proximity.
With a subtle sight, Sam surrendered to his instincts. He nuzzled the back of her neck, his lips brushing against her skin as he inhaled deeply, savouring her intoxicatingly sweet fragrance. "Good morning", he whispered, his voice a murmur of desire.
He felt her arch slightly in response, a sigh escaping her lips. Her body pressed closer to his, and Sam couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement. Her feet rubbed sensuously against his, their connection sending shivers through both their bodies. "G-Good morning", she replied, her voice breathless and filled with anticipation.
Her breaths came faster as his hand glided over her waist, his touch electric against her.
"Slept well?", Sam inquired lightly, his lips tantalisingly tickling to her ear. He moved with agonising slowness, inching closer to brush his lips against the back of her neck, his grip on her hip firm and possessive. She must be very much aware of his arousal pressed against her lower back now, he thought.
Her response was a soft stumble, her body quivering as she felt his warm breath on her skin. She inhaled deeply and audibly, her anticipation palpable. "Uhm...", she began, her voice wavering as her desire grew.
Before his lips could reach to kiss her throat, a knock on the door shattered the intimate moment. A maid's voice called from the other side, "Your grace?"
They both froze. Sam's desire seamed to burn under his skin, frustrated by the untimely interruption. He slowly distanced himself from Mira as she responded to the maid, her voice chocked with suppressed longing. "A moment", she uttered.
Now lying on his back, Sam released a deep sigh, his fingers tensing and relaxing as he attempted to dispel his mounting frustration. He turned to look at Mira, his eyes meeting hers. Her irises seemed even darker than usual by the arousal still lingering in them.
With a cleared throat, he broke the heavy silence. "I shall leave you to start your day." His voice was strained with restraint. Before he could act on impulse, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and rose hastily, making his way to the privy.
Behind the locked door, he leaned against the cool surface, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. His body, now aching with unfulfilled longing, demanded his attention. Adjusting his hard, throbbing erection in his pants, he cursed himself for oversleeping. The realisation of being terribly late only deepened his vexation. What a great beginning of the day, he thought, half sarcastic, half sincere.