The Delicate Matter of Lady Blayne (14 page)

“Do you truly think so, James?” She laid her hand on his arm and glanced up whilst fluttering her lashes at him.

He had never seen her flutter her lashes. Not in that flirtatious manner. Not with that sensual glint turning her eyes to shimmering green velvet.

She caressed his arm. Her light touch betrayed a deep sensual skill. It sent sparks of fire through him despite the thickness of cloth that separated them. She held his gaze then let her little strawberry-red tongue slip out and slide along her upper lip.

A fresh bolt of lust slammed into his loins. He was no longer half-hard. He had a full-fledged erection.

She’s a bold little baggage.

The shock of it hit him as though he’d only now become aware of the possibility.

Well, he hadn’t believed them.

Now he saw a vixen staring back at him from Sunny’s face.

It left him lusty and disquieted all at once.

Should he find this footman who had debauched her and call him out?

No. No gentleman called out a damned footman. So what then?

She was still caressing his arm. A sharp pang of desire cut through him. He winced inwardly.

He forced himself to remember where they were. On a public street.

A gentleman mustn’t make a spectacle of a lady.

I must treat her with honor. She’s my cousin’s widow. And she’s Sunny.

But who is Sunny now?

He pulled his arm away from her touch then held his arm out. “Come, I shall take you to the milliner’s.”

****

With the scent of dust and moldering paper burning his nostrils, James regarded the pale blue hat. The two ends of the wide, bright yellow ribbon hung down and provided a nice contrast against her dark plum gown.

He loved seeing her in something other than the drab mourning garb. It made him feel a little less as though Freddy’s ghost were standing between them.

They were in a small chamber at the rear of the bookshop. He wouldn’t have thought to look for such a closet here. But she had come straight this way and spent a good while rummaging through the books.

He was becoming rather eager for dinner, but he didn’t want to spoil her obvious pleasure.

Finally, she turned and hurried to him, holding a stack of books. Her eyes implored him. “Would you purchase these for me?”

He reached into his pocket for money.

She raised her brows. “No, no, you must take them to the counter and purchase them. I can’t possibly be seen doing so myself.”

He frowned and took the top book, feeling at once the flimsy construction of the binding and the cheap, coarse cloth. He traced his hand over the bold red title.

Lady Scott’s Passionate Affaire

He picked up the next book and the next. Each one had a title more salacious than the one before it. Romances.

Or something more tawdry disguised as romances.

He looked down at her.

She lowered her gaze.

“Do you really wish to read books like this?” he asked.

“Please do not question me.” Her voice sounded strained.

He felt like the worst coxcomb. Why had he done anything to make her feel ashamed? Was he some damned prude now? “I am sorry, I don’t mean to make you feel questioned. But I cannot believe you want to read such books.”

“What should I read? Books on moral hygiene? Etiquette? Needlepoint?”

Her voice was sharp. Defensive. He had hurt her.

Shamed her.

Yet, she seemed to have made a point of bringing him here and showing him these books. “My dear, you should read what you like. I am simply incredulous at this change in you.”

At all the changes in you.

“I am not that girl you once knew.” There was defiance in her tone.

Yet sadness misted her eyes.

“No, you are not,” he agreed, trying to keep his own sadness out of his voice.

“I have developed a taste for romances and I do enjoy them.” Distress darkened her expression. “Dr. Meeker directed Mrs. Tibbs to search my chamber for all such
stimulating
reading materials.” She looked sadder. A little lost. Certainly vulnerable. “She took all my books and burnt them in the fire whilst I watched. I loved those books. I loved the escape of them.”

“And where did you get such books?”

She evaded his gaze. ”They were gifts.”

“I see.” He couldn’t keep the terse edge from his voice. He suspected who had gifted her with such books. He didn’t want to know.

“Oh, please, try to understand. There were times I felt as though I would go mad.” She gave a wry smile. “Truly mad. I needed some kind of escape from my life. The romances lifted me out of the dreary terribleness.”

“I do understand. But you needn’t explain. It is none of my affair. You may purchase whatever takes your fancy.” He took the stack of novels under one arm and then he touched her arm. “Let’s go now.”

But after having purchased the books and ushering her out of the shop, he sensed a new strain between them. He regretted having torn at the fragile threads of trust they had begun to build earlier in the afternoon.

****

James entered the chamber and turned the latch. The light was dim, but candlelight from an open door created a path on the floor which led to the next chamber.

Sunny’s chamber.

An invitation if he’d ever seen one.

He paused in the act of removing his frockcoat. Didn’t it show his intent? His intent? Hadn’t she already inserted herself stark naked into his bed. Yet she’d been heavily drugged then, not in her right mind. In bygone days, except of course for when he’d been  in his sickbed, he would never have appeared in front of a lady of good repute in a state of undress. Yet, the past night and day had brought so many revelations. Shocking accusations about Sunny’s licentious behavior.

Behavior she was willing, even eager to admit to.

Are you going to take advantage of her?

No, of course not. I am just going to say good night to the woman. It’s the civil thing to do.

The floorboards creaked here and there as he walked into her chamber. She looked up as he entered.

Candlelight bathed her in a soft glow. Her hair fell about her shoulders in loose curls, golden brown yet tinged by the orange firelight, reminding James of autumn leaves illuminated by the rosy aura of a setting sun. A slightly mussed, wanton display. But that wasn’t what made him catch his breath.

She was also in a state of undress, wearing a green velvet wrapper trimmed in gold lace.

Yes, he had seen—and felt—her nakedness the previous night. That had been a shock, a mistake, something outside the expected.

But this was different.

She seemed sober. She had intentionally dressed in that enticing wrapper—a wrapper she had apparently packed with the few things she had brought with her from Blayne House. Had she planned this then?

Now, here, she had waited for him.

Left her door open to lead him to her.

Chapter Eight

James studied Sunny’s position on her bed, gold lights in her hair, the glow of the firelight upon her skin. He could picture her just like this, in some sordid rented chamber, waiting for her servant lover to arrive.

He came to her bedside.

She looked up at him and she stroked the stem of her wineglass with suggestive motions.

Christ.

She was attempting to seduce him?

I must treat her with honor.

Yet, he’d just gone bone hard.

“Will you take some wine with me?” she asked, her voice soft, lush.

He nodded, numbly accepting the glass she handed him. He could use a drink. God, he was lightheaded. Though with lust or with his confused feelings, he didn’t know.

He’d taken a few drinks and then clarity returned. He gave her a stern look. “Sunny, what are you about, inviting me into your chamber like this? We will be spending a great deal of time together. We must keep some proprieties between us.”

“This is what I am like.” She took a deep drink of wine. She would no longer meet his gaze.

“You were never like this before.”

“That’s true. I was a good little girl. The pride of my Papa and Mama.”

“So what happened?” He heard the sad note in his own voice.

“I grew up.”

“This is not the result of maturity.”

“Then what is it?”

“You were debauched.”

Her brows shot up and she lowered her glass to the night table. “Debauched?”

“Yes, this footman. He was the one who debauched you, was he not?”

She laughed softly. “How chivalrous of you to place the onus on him.”

Had he been holding on to the hope that she would deny having taken a lover?

He supposed he had.

She drew her brows together. “I have to be honest, with you and with myself. He didn’t debauch me. He didn’t seduce me. We were lovers, yes. But we both knew what we were doing.”

“Sunny, you should not defend that blackguard. I was still away at sea and Freddy was dead. And your Papa was—”

“Ah, Papa.” She looked even sadder. “What a disappointment I am to him. I was raised to live so sparingly. Don’t consume too much flesh, don’t eat or drink to excess. Don’t make jests, don’t waste your time playing at cards or dice or playing music or reading novels. Stay occupied in some useful activity every moment of the day.”

She set her empty glass down on the night table. “Mama used to chastise me for laughing too much. Now she’s in a total despair for the state of my soul. She doesn’t write me letters. She sends me novels—whole volumes of her chastening by mail. I don’t know how Papa affords to post them.

“Little good it does. I eat and drink just as greedily, maybe more so, after I have read one of her letters.” She ran her hands down over the sides of her velvet covered breasts, down along her curvy, well-defined waist then over her full, well-padded hips.

He could all but feel the soft, sumptuous nap on his own palms.

“A woman doesn’t gain a form like this eating sparingly of the roast beef and pudding.”

Only through supreme self-control did he resist reaching out to grasp her and pull her closer. To touch those luscious breasts.

“One could say I am plump.” Her hand rested on the soft curve of her stomach. “During those last two years of his life, Freddy was a little aghast at the changes in me. He couldn’t hide it.” She made a circular, caressing pattern over her belly and her gaze had turned quite smoky.

Lust surged into his groin with every beat of his heart. He couldn’t tear his eyes from that small hand, so starkly pale against the dark green velvet.

“I think I frightened Freddy at times.”

Of course she had. Freddy had been a perpetual boy, even before the fever that stripped him of his virility. Freddy had picked Sunny for the same reasons James had initially wanted her for a wife, all those years ago. For her delicacy. For her girlish air and ladylike ways.

All the while, Sunny had been a vixen in disguise.

This sensual, self-indulgent creature was driving James to the point of madness.

But she could only be a mistress to him. She wasn’t the kind of wife he needed. He dared not do anything to bring shame on his family.

How terrible of him to doubt her in that way. What choice did he have until she proved herself different? It was still a dreadful feeling to doubt her.

“James?”

The inquiring note in her voice forced him to look her in the eye. “Yes?”

“What do you think of a woman who eats to the point of—” She ran her small, red tongue over her full, lush lips. “—satiety?”

He went hard as iron.

He hurt with it.

He glanced down.

She was still caressing her stomach. “I drink greedily from the cup of life. I take pleasure where I find it. What do you think of such a woman? Do you think I am wicked, evil…base?”

“I don’t think a woman ought to deny herself to the point where she is always hungry. Certainly, she should eat until she’s sated.”

“Mama said a woman should never allow herself to grow plump. It is a self-indulgent thing. Taking more than one needs from God’s bounty.”

“I wouldn’t call you plump, Sunny.”

“Wouldn’t you? Frances does.”

“I would say you are perfect.” He put his hand on her hip, felt the soft lushness there. No bony angles on her. “I think you’re beautiful.”

He stared down into her face, noting her red, full lips. He could imagine his mouth covering hers. He bent his head, powerless to her allure.

Her eyes flashed with something—what? Anger? No, too strong. Defiance? Why but defiance? No, not anger nor exactly defiance, but challenge.

She was
testing
him.

It occurred to him that this whole evening had been a test.

A test he had been about to fail.

He had frozen with his mouth a fraction of an inch away from hers. He could taste her breath.

He pulled away from her. How he loathed feminine tactics such as this.

Yet, he could forgive her.

Firstly, because he knew her position. Everyone she had once trusted had betrayed that trust.

And secondly, this was not any woman. This was Sunny.

His pulse seemed to center in his cock, each beat increasing the sense of urgency. The hardest erection he’d ever known throbbed painfully against the confines of his trousers.

He mustn’t give in to lust.

Taking a slow, deep breath, he tried to focus his thoughts on something else. A matter of importance between them. “Sunny, did you starve yourself in the past?”

“Goodness, I wouldn’t term it starving myself.”

He remembered her thinness as a younger woman and he felt a pang within himself to think that slenderness had not been her natural state but one born of self-denial.

“You left the table, night after night, intentionally hungry, not yet satisfied?”

“That was just how we were raised to be. To put the spiritual over the sensual. It was just our way.”

“No, it was your parents’ way.”

“I chose to follow their beliefs.”

“What choice had you? You were their child and children are to be obedient.” He caressed his hand along the silken nap of the velvet. “And you fault yourself now, for not being able to live up to their idea of how a person should eat and live?”

She shrugged one shoulder and waved dismissively.

“Sunny, this is important. You take too much blame for things. Such as this footman of yours.”

“Please, don’t call him that. It makes him seem somewhat less of a person. As though he were a thing, like a carriage or a wardrobe.”

“I don’t know his name.”

“Silas Chapman.”

He had not wished to have a name attached to her lover. “He was English.”

“I believe he was. Does that matter?”

It shouldn’t have mattered.

It enraged him.

He took a deep breath then refocused on the conversation. “Shall we call him Silas or Mr. Chapman?”

“I think Mr. Chapman will suffice between you and me. But thank you for asking. Using his name makes me feel less as though I had taken advantage of someone who was so subordinate to me that he had no defenses. As though he were a dumb animal. Or-or…” She paused and he saw her swallow. “Or a thing to be used.”

“I see your point. However, he took advantage of you.”

“No, he didn’t, and I wish you would stop saying it. I knew what I was doing.”

“You were a sheltered, inexperienced young woman. A new widow.”

“You don’t understand.”

“I do understand; I am a man. It gives me insight into this Mr. Chapman that you don’t have.”

“I lost control over myself. I know they told you.”

“You flirted with this servant at some point in time.”

Her shoulders sagged. “Yes.”

“Afterwards, he knew he had some sway with you, and he used it to his ultimate advantage.”

“No, it was not like that. I flirted with him, I crossed over the boundaries of propriety and tempted him. It was unforgivable but I compounded the sin by-by…I couldn’t help myself. I know how dreadful and wicked and weak that makes me. But I could not—”

He had put his fingers to her lips. God, he couldn’t bear to hear another word. The soft warmth made him linger, and it took all his control not to trace along the fullness of her lower lip. Finally, he had to lift his fingers. He cupped her cheek.

“Sunny, you’re taking too much of the blame.” He frowned. “Blame is the wrong word. Ah, what you do in private, with a lover—or yourself, how you care for the needs of your body. How you feed yourself. If you want to drink wine or eat sweets or titillate yourself with tales of drama and romance, all of this is your own concern. You have no one, not even a husband, to answer to now.”

“But ladies shouldn’t—”

“Ladies take lovers every day. Well, some ladies do. Many do.” He couldn’t help but caress the softness of her cheek. “But you were in a state of grief, confused after a less-than-natural marriage. Mr. Chapman was a man—older?”

She nodded. “But he was a
servant.”
Sadness entered her look. “He wasn’t even educated. Not too well.”

“No, matter. He was a man, experienced in life, and you were an innocent, despite your age.”

“Mama says that a woman should strive to never give a man impure thoughts. That a man can sense when a woman has an inherently impure heart. It fills his mind with ideas. You know how wicked I always was.”

He couldn’t help laughing.

Her eyes flashed fire.

He still couldn’t help it.

She turned away from him.

He reached out to her. “Sunny, you’re speaking nonsense. You couldn’t have been wicked even if you’d tried.” He gave her a serious look. “Even if you had tried very hard.”

She turned back to him. “How can you say that? When you were my first transgression.”

“Your first transgression?” he repeated.

“Yes…” Her voice dropped so low he had to lean closer to hear. “That night in the garden. At Landbrae.”

He gaped at her. “That was nothing, Sunny.”

“You touched me…” She looked down, her lashes veiling her eyes. The barest shade of rose kissed her cheeks. Or was that a trick of the firelight? “You touched me, intimately.”

A wealth of sensuality vibrated in her tone on the last word. His erection swelled against his fall. With her eyes cast down, her lashes like golden-brown fans against her cheeks, she presented a lovely picture of feminine submission. Her small red tongue moved slowly, sinuously over her full lips.

Lust pounded through him. He wanted nothing more than to press his mouth upon hers. To thrust his tongue between those luscious lips and ravish hers without mercy.

God help him. He balled his hands into fists and forced his mind to focus on their conversation. “I recall you slapped me most thoroughly in response.”

A small, quick, somehow hesitant smile flirted over her lips. It was as though he were seeing the girl she had been imposed over the woman she was now. “Yes, I did.”

“I think my ears rang with it for weeks afterward.”

She glanced up.

He grinned.

She laughed, a soft catch there. “Goodness.”

He chuckled.

“How gallant you are, James. And how kind to try and take all the blame. But if you remember, I slapped you only after I allowed you all of those liberties.” She glanced down again. “I-I liked all those things you did.” She caught her breath, a definite flush spreading over her cheeks. “All those naughty, utterly delicious things you did to me.”

Another pang of lust went jolting through him, speeding his heart’s beat. Sending a new surge of blood into his loins. His cock throbbed painfully.