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Authors: Bertrice Small

BOOK: Deceived
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Standing, he took her by the shoulders and turned her about, tilting her face up to his. “You will marry me, Aurora,” he told her with a small smile. “You cannot resist the magic I arouse in your tempting little body, can you?”
“Cad!” she smacked at him, but only half seriously.
“Bitch!” he retorted, giving her a quick kiss.
Then they both laughed.
“Button yourself, St. John, or the entire household will know what we have been about, I fear,” she told him sternly.
“They will suspect it anyway,” he chuckled, buttoning himself.
“You may escort me back into the house,” she said loftily. “Then you must go home, St. John. Your mother is surely wondering what has happened to you. I'm certain she does not know what a devil you are.”
“Alas,” he said as they walked back through the gardens to the house, “I fear she does, my dear. May I come tomorrow and bring you home for tea so she may meet her future daughter-in-law?”
“St. John!” Aurora was exasperated. “I have not said yes yet. You must not presume until I do.”
“Patience is not a virtue with me, Aurora,” he said.
“Virtue is not a virtue with you,” she riposted.
He burst out laughing, admitting, “True. True.”
Entering the house, Aurora saw a light coming from beneath the library door. “Good night, St. John,” she told him.
He pulled her into his arms and kissed her slowly, smiling down into her eyes, nibbling tenderly upon her lower lip. “Good night, Aurora, my darling. How I long for the night when I shall not have to let you go to a lonely bed.” Then he whispered softly in her ear, “I shall insist we sleep naked, and I shall caress and kiss every inch of your lovely body until you beg me to take you.
And I will!”
His hands were fastened about her small waist, and he held her so that her breasts just touched his chest. “I am going to tease and taunt you until the day that you marry me, darling. I know that that little secret place of yours is even now throbbing and wet, isn't it?”
Surprised, she nodded. “I think you are very wicked, St. John,” she murmured low. “If you tease me, I shall tease you, and that fine fellow, as you call your member, will ache with longing for me even as it now does, doesn't it?” She daringly ran her tongue along his lips.
The library door opened, and the duke spoke sharply. “Go to your room, Aurora. St. John, go home. I'll have no scandal in my house.”
With a chuckle Justin St. John kissed the tip of Aurora's nose, and releasing his hold on her, bowed mockingly at his cousin as he departed.
Valerian Hawkesworth had an angry look about him. “You will remember, miss, that I am your guardian while you are here in England. You will not play the strumpet again, or I will have you confined to your room on a diet of bread and water. Do you understand, Aurora?”
“I understand that you are arrogant,
my lord,
even as I have always believed you to be. You may force my sister to your will, but you will never force me. I shall probably marry St. John, although I have not yet decided to do so, and if you believe that I would compromise my own good name, you are sadly mistaken. I bid you good night.” She ran up the staircase and hurried to the dowager's room, knocking politely.
“Yes, miss?” The dowager's Jane answered the door.
“If her ladyship is still awake, I should like to speak with her,” Aurora said politely.
“Come in, miss, she's been waiting,” Jane replied. She was a tiny woman with a cheery smile who always wore a neatly starched mobcap over her gray curls, and was utterly devoted to her mistress.
Mary Rose Hawkesworth was already settled in her bed, her nightcap with its blue silk ribbons tied beneath her chin. “Well?” she demanded. “Did he propose, and did you accept him, Aurora?”
“It was the seventh time he has proposed,” she said with a small laugh. “I have always refused him.”
“He has proposed to you seven times, and you refused him?” The dowager was astounded. “Gracious, child, what can you be thinking?”
“I did not refuse tonight, but neither did I accept, although I am of a mind to accept, ma'am,” Aurora told her sponsor.
“Why now?” The dowager was curious. Aurora, she was discovering, could be a most unpredictable young girl. Stubborn, Martha had said.
“He kissed me,” Aurora replied. “I liked it. I liked it very much, ma'am. He has been so proper and so polite until tonight. He was rather masterful this evening. I found it intriguing, and quite delicious. He is not the fop I thought him to be, and now perhaps I shall accept his offer because I believe he will be a most interesting man to have for a husband. I might even be falling in love with him.”
“Ahhhh,” the dowager said, nodding with approval, her eye meeting that of her servant. “You will not get a better offer, my child. St. John is well off without your dowry, and so he has no ulterior motive involved in asking for your hand. He has not sought to marry before now, although heaven knows there have been several most suitable young women he might have had. I suspect he has fallen in love with you.”
“He has asked me to tea tomorrow to meet his mama,” Aurora told the dowager.
“Excellent!” came the enthusiastic reply. “I shall, of course, accompany you. It will show Mistress St. John that I fully approve of any alliance contracted between her son and our family.” There was a smile of utter satisfaction upon her handsome face. It was going well, and it was going to work out precisely as she had hoped. “Have you thought about when we shall have the wedding, my child?” she asked.
“I have not told St. John yes yet, ma'am.” Aurora laughed.
“But you will, of course, and the sooner the better,” the old lady advised her charge.
“Would late spring be too soon?” Aurora wondered. “I suppose we should probably wait a year not to appear unseemly, but I have always wanted to be married in the spring. Cally should be well recovered from her childbirth by then, and can be my attendant witness, as I was for her when she married the duke last winter.”
“Spring would be a perfect time,” the dowager agreed. “April or May, my child. Mid-May would be beautiful! And who cares what the old gossips say. St. John is eager, and so, I suspect, are you now.” Her blue eyes twinkled mischievously at the girl. “I well remember those heady kisses of my youth. None are ever quite so sweet as those.”
“I respect your experience,” Aurora told her playfully. “Now, however, ma'am, I suspect that you would like to retire. I bid you good night.” Impulsively, Aurora bent and kissed the dowager's wrinkled cheek. Then with a quick curtsy she was gone from the room.
Mary Rose Hawkesworth touched her cheek, and a tear rolled down her face. “Why, that sweet child,” she said softly.
“She is that,” Jane agreed. “A pity she weren't the one we got for Master Valerian.”
“Yes,” the dowager agreed. “A great pity indeed.”
Chapter
9
“H
old still, miss,” Martha said as she carefully laced up her young mistress. “‘I've never known you to be so fidgety!”
“I've never been invited to meet a gentleman's mother before, and frankly I'm nervous,” Aurora admitted to her maid.
“The dowager will be with you,” Martha replied. “Just let her do all the talking. Answer politely and try to appear mannerly, miss. Mistress St. John doesn't have to know you ride astride or like to swim naked in the sea. Just be what every mama wants for her son. A well-mannered, loving girl who will devote herself to her husband.”
“I haven't told St. John that I'll marry him yet,” Aurora protested.
Martha turned the girl about and looked critically at her garb. Apple-green silk gown with a petticoat panel of ivory brocade embroidered with multicolored butterflies; tight sleeves to just below the elbow with creamy engageants; a pretty rounded neckline modestly edged with a lace ruffle. She nodded, satisfied. “Of course you're going to marry Mr. St. John, miss,” she said. “That's what we come from St. Timothy for last winter. To find you a husband, and Mr. St. John will make you a fine one. Now, here's your shawl. It's not cold, so you'll not need a cloak.” She draped it over Aurora's shoulders, then handed her a pair of lace mitts and a reticule of pale green silk. “There's a handkerchief inside, and a little painted fan if it gets too warm. Now, you hold still a minute while I affix the finishing touch.” She put a small bunch of little cream-colored silk flowers in the girl's hair and stepped back. “Yes,” she nodded. “It's just perfect. Now, go and join the dowager, and remember what I told you. A modest and mannerly demeanor and a gentle voice will impress Mistress St. John best.”
Mary Rose Hawkesworth stood with her grandson as Aurora descended the staircase. “How pretty you look, my child,” she complimented her.
“Thank you, ma'am” came the response, and then Aurora looked at the duke and said, “Do you think I look pretty, Valerian?”
“Conserve your flirtatious manners for my cousin, Aurora,” he sharply put her down. “I am certain he will be delighted to see how boldly you have dressed for him.”
“Boldly?
What in heaven's name is bold about my appearance?” she demanded angrily.
“The neckline on your gown is immodest,” he grumbled.
“It is edged in a lace ruffle, and Martha says it is quite decorous,” Aurora snapped back at him. “You surely don't consider yourself an arbiter on women's fashions, sir?”
“Enough,” the dowager said, raising her hand, and then, “Come, my dear, or we will be late to Primrose Court.” She gave her grandson a hard look and then took Aurora's arm.
He stood watching as the carriage drew away from the house. She had looked utterly adorable, and the thought that she had dressed with the idea of pleasing St. John was infuriating. Did his cousin love Aurora?
Really love her?
Would he make her happy, or would he break her heart when she discovered St. John's penchant for women? All women. St. John would do what so many of their contemporaries did. He would take a respectable wife with a respectable dowry and have several children, all the while keeping a bit of fluff hidden away. Valerian Hawkesworth knew his cousin's bad habits, although St. John had always been so utterly discreet that virtually no one realized what a cad he could be. Of course, the duke admitted to himself, he had taken a wife for precisely the same reasons they all did, and while he did not love Calandra, he had never been unfaithful to her except perhaps in the deepest and most secret place in his heart. With a sigh he returned to his library, and pouring himself a whiskey, sat down.
The ducal carriage quickly left Hawkes Hill behind. It would be almost half an hour's ride to Primrose Court, as the St. John home was known.
“Margaret St. John will be delighted to have Justin finally married,” the dowager remarked as they rode along. “You are very fortunate, my child. Primrose Court has a dower house, and Mistress St. John has been eager to move into it. She has spent the last several years preparing it for her arrival. You'll have no mother-in-law in your house.”
“But, ma'am, I still have not decided whether to marry St. John or not. I hope the good lady is not presuming I will.” Aurora shifted nervously in her seat.
“Now, my child,” the dowager said, patting Aurora's hand, “you must cease this maidenly dithering. It is not at all becoming to a girl of your intellect. Of course you will marry Justin St. John. He's an excellent catch, and your mama will be absolutely delighted.” She smiled encouragingly at the girl. “I know you are a little frightened, but you do not have to be, Aurora. If your mama is in St. Timothy, the rest of your family is here with you, and everything is just going to be fine.” She patted the lace-mitted hand again.
The vehicle traveled on past orchards of apples and pears now being picked. The air was sweet with the scent of ripe fruit. Finally they turned off the main road, going through an open gate and down a narrow tree-lined way that led to Primrose Court. It was a lovely warm, pinkish brick mansion of Tudor vintage that had been modernized over the years to include large windows and a round pillared porch. The coach horses trotted smartly up the graveled drive, finally stopping directly before the house. Immediately servants were hurrying forward to open the carriage door, draw down the steps, and help the passengers out, escorting them into the building.
Justin St. John was awaiting them in the foyer. “Welcome, your ladyship,” he said, kissing the dowager's hand. Then he turned to Aurora. “Welcome home, my darling,” he told her, and she blushed.
“Oh, St. John, don't be such a fool,” she gently scolded him.
“Come into the drawing room and meet Mama,” he said with a small smile. How pretty she looked, he thought to himself. She seemed to have gone out of her way for him today. She was going to say yes. He just knew she was going to say yes! His heart raced, and for a brief moment he felt like a schoolboy again. Leading the two women into the salon where his mother was standing to greet their guests, he let his parent greet the dowager first.
Mistress St. John curtsied to Mary Rose Hawkesworth. “How lovely that you could come for a visit, ma'am,” she said. “I am so sorry that the ague kept me from your grand ball last May. The neighbors are yet speaking of it, and such a dramatic climax to have the young duchess faint, and everyone to learn she was with child. Is she well?”
The dowager smiled thinly. “As well as any young woman in her condition, Margaret. I have brought the duchess's sister with me today. St. John! Introduce Aurora!”
“Mama, may I present Miss Aurora Spencer-Kimberly,” he dutifully said, drawing Aurora forward with a smile.
“How do you do,” Aurora said softly, curtsying politely.
“So,” Margaret St. John said, “you are the girl who is to marry my son, Miss Spencer-Kimberly. You are going to marry Justin, aren't you?” Her gray eyes twinkled with humor at Aurora's surprised expression.
There was what seemed a long silence, and then Aurora said, “Yes, Mistress St. John, I am. I hope that you will approve.”
Margaret St. John hugged Aurora warmly. “My dear, I am absolutely rapturously relieved that some nice young woman has decided to settle Justin down. Come, now, let us sit down and have our tea.”
She was in a dream, Aurora thought. Had she really agreed to marry St. John? Yes, she had. The dowager was looking smugly pleased. Mistress St. John appeared delighted as she poured out the tea, and St. John was grinning at her like a fool. Why did I say yes, Aurora wondered to herself. Do I love him? Do I really want to marry him? She sipped her tea silently. Martha would very definitely approve her decorum. She was brought back to reality at the sound of St. John's voice.
“Let's be married at Christmas,” he said enthusiastically.
His mother immediately looked shocked. “Justin,” she cautioned him, “one cannot arrange a proper wedding so quickly, nor is it seemly. There would be talk at so swift a union, and it would reflect badly upon Aurora, I fear. People would be counting on their fingers, I regret.”
“Aurora and I have already discussed this matter, Margaret, and while it is a trifle soon, we thought next May would be lovely. Aurora has always wanted to be married in the springtime,” the dowager said.
“May? That's almost eight months away,” St. John groused.
“Oh, yes,” his mother said to the dowager, “May would be just lovely, and the duchess will have recovered from her childbirth by then and can be at her sister's side. It's a trifle soon, of course, but no one would think badly of us if we arranged the wedding for May. The betrothal must be announced quickly, however.”
“Valerian is Aurora's guardian here in England. I will see that he gives a small, intimate dinner next week, and he will announce the engagement at that time. With the duchess
enceinte,
no one will consider it strange we are being so simple,” the dowager replied.
“What a pity the duchess's condition prevented them from attending the royal wedding and the coronation this month,” Mistress St. John noted. “I understand it was all quite magnificent, and that the queen is a lovely young woman.”
“Indeed, Calandra was dreadfully disappointed,” the dowager replied, remembering how her grandson's wife had shrieked and carried on when she learned that she could not travel during her pregnancy. It had been three days before she had stopped crying, and she was still not over her disappointment, nor would she ever be, the dowager thought.
The two women now settled down to a good gossip, for although St. John's mother was at least fifteen years younger than the dowager, they had many interests and friends in common.
“I am going to take Aurora on a tour of the house,” St. John finally said, and his mother waved them off.
They left the drawing room hand in hand, and he showed her the dining room, the back salon the family generally used, the ballroom, and the original old hall, which was beamed and hung with banners. Leading her upstairs, he took her through a door, and they were in a large bedchamber. “And this is my room,” he said softly, drawing her into his arms and kissing her slowly.
For a moment she enjoyed the kiss, and then she drew just slightly away from him. “I don't think we should be here, St. John, nor should we be engaged in such activity.”
“When did you decide to marry me?” he asked her, his fingers unlacing her gown as he bent to kiss her again.
“When your mother asked me,” she admitted, and slipped her arms about his neck, kissing him back. “Where is my betrothal ring?”
He pushed her down onto his bed, and straddling her gently, pulled her bodice down to reveal her soft, alabaster bosom. His hands reached out to fondle the dainty mounds. Bending his head, he began to lick first the pink nipples, and then each of her round breasts in its turn. She sighed, encouraging him in his pursuit, and he began to suck on her nipples, drawing upon them strongly, biting them tenderly until she was writhing beneath him and almost whimpering.
Finally he lifted his head from the sweetness of her flesh and asked her, “Do you want to know more, my darling Aurora?”
“Yes,” she murmured. She was already afire with his passionate attentions to her sensitive breasts. They felt hard and ready to burst.
“This will be so much easier when you do not have so many garments on,” he told her. He pushed her skirts up. Beneath the green silk she had on at least half a dozen petticoats, but, thankfully, no panniers. He thrust the material aside enough to slip his hand beneath, and began stroking her leg, which was encased in a silk stocking and tightly gartered. He was going to undress her himself on their wedding night, slowly, deliberately, and purposively, kissing each bit of flesh as he exposed it until his very touch would set her afire. His fingers moved above her garter, touching the very soft skin of her inner thigh. He caressed it lightly, teasingly.
Aurora's head was spinning. His big hands were so gentle, his mouth so deliciously wicked when he used it on her breasts. His hand moved farther upward, brushing softly against her little nest of curls. This, she sensed, was dangerous territory. She stirred restlessly as a single long finger slipped between her nether lips to find her little pleasure button. He began rubbing it provocatively.
“St. John!
” she squeaked.
“Don't you like it?” he whispered hotly in her ear, his finger continuing its wonderful and erotic friction.
“Yes!”
Oh, God, yes! This was even better than when she did it to herself. She squirmed with excitement, gasping as she reached the crest of delight. “Ummmmm! Oh, St. John, that is simply too delicious. Oh! Oh!
Ohhhhh!”
She shuddered.
Leaning forward, he kissed her lips, his tongue playing with her. Then he murmured, “One day I shall use my tongue on you there, my darling, but you are not yet ready for such games.” The finger slipped away from her pleasure button and began to penetrate her. She gasped with surprise, but he reassured her. “It's all right, my precious. This is where I shall enter your body when we are married.” His finger gently inserted itself, moving forward in her hot passage very slowly, very carefully. When he reached her maidenhead, he ceased his action, gently ascertaining that her virginity was well lodged.

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