Stages of Desire (22 page)

She wanted to throw something at him, to break him the same way he'd torn her apart.

“You abandoned me. Why should I trust you?”

“I will prove my steadfastness with time.”

“And, speaking of abandonment, what about Marianne and Her Grace? You were their only hope. Your action was extremely selfish in that regard.”

“I've arranged they be taken care of. I'm sure Marianne will find a proper husband soon enough, now she has a generous dowry to her name. And the duchess was granted an annuity.”

Harriet was happy they were safe, no matter how they'd treated her. “That was good of you.”

“I never loved Marianne, we would have made a terrible match. Reading my mother's letters made me realize marrying her would be a terrible decision for both of us. Because I'm in love with you.” He reached over and covered Harriet's hand with his. “You haven't answered my question.”

She pulled away. “The answer is no. I've changed my life completely in the past couple of months, and finally feel as if I'm in control. After years of being told what to do and how to do it, I'm free.”

“I'm not surprised. You were a powerful force from the moment I met you. I figured in Chipping Norton I'd be able to bundle you up, toss you in my carriage, and return to London, but you set me straight on that subject fairly quickly. I still can't believe you got me on stage with you.”

“I hope your new plan isn't to become an actor. You were truly awful.” She couldn't help herself.

“No, I assure you. Although I do have fond memories of the scene. It was the first time we kissed.” He reddened. “Like I said, you're a natural leader. There's no reason you shouldn't run this company and have all the success in the world. I'm not asking you to change anything.”

“And what exactly will you be doing with yourself? Are you planning on becoming a prompter or prop master?”

“Certainly not. The theater is your purview. I have plans of my own.”

He stood and moved around to her side of the desk. He held out his hand and, without thinking, she took it and allowed him to raise her up. He seemed so giddy and confident, she hardly recognized him. He had been lost forever, yet here he was, offering himself to her.

“I'll tell you everything, I promise. Please tell me you love me and will marry me.”

She pulled back. Her body quivered with an unsettling mix of fear and desire. If she wasn't careful, she'd lose herself completely. “I'm afraid if you're no longer the Earl of Abingdon, I have no use for you.”

He became serious. “Does it matter to you, the title?”

She laughed. “Of course not.” The room was hot and stuffy. She broke away from him, lifted open the window and let the cool air wash over her.

“What was it made you change your mind, William? Why should I trust you now?”

He came behind her and put his arms around her waist. At first she resisted, but they fit together perfectly and she allowed her body to mold to his.

“Look out at the city,” he said. “It's all ours now. We're free to choose what we do and how we do it. Is there anything more remarkable than that?” He turned her to face him. “Please. I've loved you since the moment I saw you in my library, rifling through my Shakespeare folio. I want no one else but you and I'll be true and ever faithful. Don't you see? My mother wished she'd followed her heart, and here I have the opportunity to do so. Names, titles, families, mean nothing to me. Jasper and Claire, of course, mean the world to me, but the fact we don't share the same father is beside the point. I love them because of who they are. You've chosen your family: it's Adam and Mrs. Kembler and the rest of your crazy crew. If our fathers or brothers disappoint, so be it. I choose you. We can start a family of our own together. We'll make our own rules.”

She was speechless. He'd summed up so much of what she'd been thinking and mulling over since Freddie and her father's deaths.

They'd ended up at the same conclusion.

“I choose you, Harriet Farley. I love you, and I choose you.”

He swept her up close and kissed her. Her body responded of its own accord, her mouth and lips yielding to his. She gave up the battle and kissed him back, deeply, placing her hands on his head and running her fingers through his hair. His manhood hardened against her thighs while her own body grew wet, readying for him.

When he spoke, his voice was hoarse with desire. “I won't let you out of here until you agree to marry me. Will you?”

“Why should I?” she teased and he groaned hungrily.

He gently lowered her on top of the desk, pulling the sleeves of her gown down and exposing her breasts. He gathered the fleshy mounds up in his hands and pinched her nipples, all the while gently nibbling the side of her neck. Pleasure radiated from her every nerve. “Stop, it's too much.”

“Never. I'll never stop. I've missed you so much. Your sweetness, your scent.”

His thigh pressed against her cleft, and her hips moved as if of their own accord, wanting more of him. He pulled away, teasing her, so she felt the absence of him even more strongly.

Finally, she could no longer take the anticipation. She fumbled with his breeches while he lifted her skirts and, after all of the materials and layers had been removed between them, he eased himself into her. She was full, complete, and alive. He moved slowly at first, then built the momentum so that within minutes she reached the peak of her pleasure, her body throbbing and pulsating with energy. He soon followed, crying out with abandon.

After they were both spent they lay close, breathing as one.

“Does that provide you with an answer?” he whispered. “If you marry me, I will continue to provide you with the pleasure you so deserve.”

She kissed him gently on the lips. “I will. I will marry you, William Talbot Butler or whoever you are.”

“I am yours. That's who I am. I'm yours.”

Chapter 20

Harriet went to her window and cast an uneasy glance into the sky, watching for signs of snow. It was too dark to tell what exactly the clouds were doing, typical of a December evening, but a quick look at the lamps across the street confirmed her suspicion. Tiny flakes were beginning to fall.

“Don't worry, ma'am, if it's only beginning you'll make it to the theater with no trouble.”

“Thank you, Lily.” Harriet smiled at her lady's maid and allowed her to help her into her velvet gown. The opening night performance of a farce by Henry Butler would begin in less than an hour, but she'd been so busy at the theater with last minute preparations she hadn't considered her own ensemble until now.

“Are you sorry you're not performing in this one, ma'am?” Lily guided her to her dressing table and picked up a brush. “I can imagine it's wonderful to step foot on the stage, with all of those people watching you.”

“I'm happy to take a break.” Harriet slid some armlets over her wrists while Lily artfully arranged her unruly mane on top of her head. A year ago, William had insisted they hire the best help possible, as both he and Harriet were so busy with their occupations. Their servants kept the stately townhouse on Orchard Street humming along with precision.

Although the size of the residence bordered on diminutive compared to what William was used to, it suited Harriet perfectly. There were no extraneous rooms to fill and the ones they had were decorated in warm, rich hues with comfortable pillows on the sofas. Every Saturday evening after the show they'd invite couples from all walks of life to dinner, where the talk veered from poetry to politics and laughter filled the air.

She was quite relieved not to be performing for once, as her schedule was already filled with meetings and plans for the spring. Tonight was the first time William would see the play, and she was more nervous about his reaction to his late father's work than any of London's harshest critics.

Once she'd been made presentable, she walked downstairs to the foyer. “No sign of Dr. Talbot yet?” she asked the waiting footman. It had taken some time to remember to drop the “lordship” when speaking of her husband to the help, as William preferred. Still every so often she forgot and had to correct herself.

“Not yet, ma'am.”

“Very well, I suppose he's planning on meeting me at the theater. I'll take the carriage, as I can't be late.”

“Of course, ma'am.”

Over a year had passed since the Covent Garden fire, but as they rumbled past the spot Harriet stared hard out the window and said a silent prayer for the souls who'd been killed, including her father and brother. Work had begun on a new theater, the limestone walls already in place.

Patrons were streaming though the front doors of the Drury Lane Theatre when her carriage pulled up. She held out her hand for assistance in disembarking, and was surprised to find it enveloped in the large, warm hand of her husband.

“William!”

“I was kept late and decided I'd surprise you here instead.” He pulled her to him and she breathed in the scent she knew so well, one of rosewood and mint. Several people stared in their direction but she didn't care, and gave him a quick kiss on the mouth before pulling away.

“Has Mr. Urswick been keeping you busy?” She'd been thrilled when Urswick had agreed to relocate to London, at William's request. And even happier when the two men established a clinic for the poor, complete with a research laboratory, on Mile End Road.

“Very busy. We saw twenty patients today.” He was beaming, and she couldn't help but smile.

They made their way into the theater, moving slowly amidst the lumbering crowd, slowed further by the many times William had to stop and shake hands and accept heartfelt offers of congratulations. The economic implications of licensing the malaria patent had been, as he'd predicted, extraordinary. Their coffers had been enriched even further by the surge of ticket revenue from the theater company. They were, in a word, rich.

William squeezed her arm. “I can't tell you how wonderful it is to do some good, to lay hands on a child or an old man or a young mother and determine what's wrong. It means so much to me, to be able to make a difference, however small. All thanks to you, my love.”

“You give me far too much credit.”

“You were my inspiration.”

He still had the ability to make Harriet blush. “I only hope you don't find it too unbearable: doing something so noble during the day and watching a silly play in the evening.”

“The beauty of art is what makes the rest of the world bearable.”

“I couldn't have said it better myself. You should write a play, you know.”

He shook his head and smiled down at her, then his gaze drifted over her shoulder and his eyes grew wide.

She turned her head at sound of her name. To her astonishment, the duchess was trundling their way.

Harriet glanced over at William, who raised his eyebrows.

“I'm so glad I caught up with you, Harriet.” The duchess turned to William. “And you too, Lord Abingdon.”

William moved ever so slightly closer to Harriet and she appreciated his protective instincts.

“You're here to see the play?” asked Harriet.

“Yes, everyone's talking about it. Marianne was going to come as well but she had a last minute change of plans.”

William spoke up. “I hope everything is well with Lady Marianne.”

“Oh yes. In fact, Lord and Lady Bancroft's son, who's recently returned from service, just asked her to marry him. Isn't that exciting?”

Harriet was surprised the duchess spoke so freely in front of her and William, as if they were close friends. She tried to find the appropriate response. “I hope she'll be happy.”

The duchess laid a gloved hand upon Harriet's arm. “I wanted to say I'm sorry for how things ended up. You were like a daughter to me and I treated you badly in the end. Now Marianne's finally settled, as am I, I believe I was harsh and I hope you'll not hold it against me.”

Harriet wasn't sure she could forgive the woman so easily, but the beseeching look in her eyes made her soften. “Of course not, Your Grace.”

“Why don't you pay a call on me next week? We'll catch up then. Oh, and I do have a quick question. Now Covent Garden's gone I'm having a terrible time getting the box seats I prefer here. Such demand. Do you think you have any influence?”

“I'm sure I do.”

“Delightful. Very well then. Until next week.”

She trotted away and Harriet looked at William, aghast. “I don't believe it.”

“Nor do I.”

They entered their own private box, where Jasper and Claire were already seated. The orchestra started to play and Harriet's heart leaped to her throat, as it always did the moment before the curtain rose.

“I can't believe I'm about to hear my father's words,” whispered William.

Harriet smiled. She was surrounded by family, the ones she'd chosen and the ones who'd chosen her, and couldn't have been happier.

The curtain rose, the actors took the stage, and the play began.

Meet the Author

Julia Tagan lives with her husband and goldendoodle in New York City. A journalist by training, she enjoys weaving actual events and notorious individuals into her historical romances. Her favorite activities include walking her dog in Central Park, scouring farmers' markets for the perfect tomato, and traveling to foreign cities in search of inspiration.

Acknowledgements

I'd like to thank several authors and friends who provided guidance in the early drafts, including Ella Quinn, Leigh Michaels, Catherine McNally, and Madeline Rispoli. And a huge thanks to Paige Christian, editor extraordinaire and to Alex, for your unflagging enthusiasm.

Author's Note

Dear Reader:

Several of the historical elements of Stages of Desire were reworked and refashioned for the purposes of the plot. For readers who are history buffs, here's the scoop:

• Up until the 20th century, malaria was endemic throughout England, particularly along the coast, where mosquitos thrived in fens and marshes. In the 1600s, an English apothecary's apprentice named Robert Talbor successfully treated King Charles II of his malaria using cinchona bark, but it wasn't until 1820 that two Frenchmen, Pierre Pelletier and Joseph Caventou, isolated the quinine extract that became the go-to remedy.

• The Covent Garden Theatre burnt down in September 1808, killing 23 firemen and destroying Handel's organ as well as many of his manuscripts. Legend has it that the celebrated actress Sarah Siddons lost her entire collection of costumes and jewelry in the blaze, including a piece of lace that once belonged to Marie Antoinette. A new theater opened on the spot a year later.

I hope you enjoyed Stages of Desire. As an author, I love feedback, and the influence of reader reviews can't be overstated in this digital age. So if you're inclined, feel free to post a review and let me know what you think. My author page on Amazon with all of my books can be found here: https://www.amazon.com/author/juliatagan.

Thanks for spending time with Harriet, William, and me. I truly appreciate it.

Gratefully,

Julia Tagan

juliatagan.com