Folly (12 page)

Darlington partnered with Helena, and Dent with his wife.
Which left… Which left Eleanor to him.

As soon as Haversham and Louisa covered their eyes and began
to count, the other three couples scattered, heading for hiding places they
deemed worthy. Ethan grabbed Eleanor’s hand and began to run.

To his annoyance, he realized James was leading Helena to
the exact spot he had picked—the labyrinth—so he veered to the right and headed
for the potting shed on the other side of the sprawling gardens instead. It was
tucked away at the far end of the grounds and nearly covered by creeping vines.
An unlikely spot to be found. Ethan only knew about it because he had an
interest in horticulture and had asked Darlington’s head gardener for a tour.

He increased his pace when he spotted it. He was aware of
Eleanor’s panting breaths as he towed her in his wake, but he didn’t stop. Not
until he came to the door, flung it open and pulled her in.

He kicked the door shut—shuttering them in loamy-scented
darkness—and yanked her into his arms.

“Ethan.” Her voice was thready and soft and…silenced.

Because he kissed her. He kissed her as he’d been longing to
since he’d rounded the corner in the conservatory and seen Haversham’s lips
upon her. He kissed her, hard and deep and possessively. She murmured something
that sounded like, “yes,” so he continued, taking her mouth, massaging her
lips, licking at her tongue until she returned the kiss with equal fervor.

He cupped her breast, nudged at her nipple and, when she
moaned, did it again, harder.

“Oh, Ethan.”

He fished beneath her petticoats and slipped between her
legs, rubbing the tight button he found there.

She gasped. “Not here.”

“Yes here.”

“They’ll find us.”

“Let them come.” He rubbed harder, deeper, shoved two
fingers into her cunt. She was wet. Ready.

“I want you so badly, Eleanor.” He walked her back, in the
dark, until they met the wall. He yanked open the placket of his trousers and
lifted her a bit, spreading her legs as he stepped between them and entered
her.

Her hand flew to her mouth to cover her cries and he slipped
deeper.

He could see nothing, only hear her desperate whimpers, feel
the slick tension of her cunt, the shivers, the shudders, the quivers of her
flesh around him. He could smell her arousal rising above the earthy scent of
peat, mingling with his own sweat. He raised her higher, held her against the
wall with his cock planted inside her.

She lifted a leg and he groaned as the channel opened wider
and his cock went deeper still. She hooked her knee around his hip. He pulled
out, just a tad, and shoved in again.

She made a little mewling sound, one that grabbed at the
hard ball in his gut and twisted.

“You like that? Do you?”

“Yes. Oh, yes.”

She lifted her other leg. He supported her with his grasp on
the fleshy globes of her ass. He lifted her and dropped her onto his aching
staff, again and again.

“Harder, Ethan. More.”

He increased his pace, faster, faster, ever more frantic.

They didn’t have much time.

Soon, they would be found.

“Yes. Yes.” She writhed around him, trying to thrust back at
him, ratcheting up the tight tension gripping his gut. A hot hard pressure
throbbed at the base of his cock swelling at the sensation, the frantic grip of
her cunt. Her womb began to shake, to tremble, to weep for his seed.

He exploded. God. He exploded, pouring himself into her with
thrust after thrust after thrust.

She cried out as she came, a warbling wonder, and collapsed,
panting and sobbing in his arms.

He held her, simply held her, enjoying the warmth of her
body, her weight in his arms.

Nearly too long as it happened. For he had just lowered her
to her feet, just refastened the placket of his trousers, just settled her
skirt back about her legs and pulled her bodice up over her breasts, when the
door to the gardener’s shed flew open, blinding them with a blaze of sunlight.

They’d been discovered.

Dinner that night was uncomfortable, to say the least. It
wasn’t only because Helena and James kept drifting off in the middle of a
sentence to stare at one another. Or because Haversham spent the evening
pouting, sending long languid looks in Eleanor’s direction and dark daggers at
Ethan. Or even because Louisa, still bewildered at Haversham’s reaction to
finding Ethan and Eleanor together in the bowels of the potting shed, couldn’t
hold a thought. Poor Dent and his wife tried to carry the conversation but
clearly were not up to the task. And no one else was cooperating.

But no. The real discomfort erupted in the middle of the
meal when the doors to the dining room burst open and a nasty little troll,
followed by a furious Baxter, stormed in.

“I’m so sorry, my lord.” Baxter bowed to Darlington. “I
couldn’t stop him.”

The beast, a hideous man Eleanor knew all too well,
inspected each member of the party with distain curling his lips. When he came
to her, his scrutiny stalled and he snarled. He lifted a hand and pointed his
gnarled finger right at her. “There you are, you strumpet.”

Eleanor held herself still. Willed her heart not to clatter
too loudly, willed her breath to still in her throat. Berwick looked far too
much like his cousin for her comfort. Even their tones were alike.

In short, he horrified her.

The others were still as well, stunned by this crass
intrusion. All but Ethan. He slowly stood, his chair scraping against the
silence.

“They told me you’d gone to a party. A party, for God’s
sake, with your husband barely cold in his grave. How dare you dishonor him so?
Pack your things at once. We are returning to Ulster House.”

Ethan stepped between his woman and this threatening finger.
“I think not, Berwick.”

“Pennington.” Ulster’s cousin glared at Ethan and spat on
the carpet.

Helena’s nostrils flared.

James stood. As did Haversham.

Helena, true to form, could not keep silent. “Eleanor isn’t
going anywhere. Especially not with you.”

“Darling.” James gritted the word through his teeth. “Let me
handle this.”

“She most certainly is coming with me.” Mercy. Berwick was
in a state. As he spoke, a white froth spat forth from his mouth, showering the
table. “I am Ulster’s heir. She‘s my responsibility. My property.”

A nasty worm writhed in Eleanor’s gut. All the fear, all the
helplessness, all the revulsion of the past five years came bubbling to the
surface. Her skin went cold. The blood rushed from her head. Her chest ached.

Ulster had had total dominion over her, over her life, her
person. That Berwick was claiming it now made her ill. She stood and glanced
around the room, frantically seeking escape.

“What nonsense,” James barked.

Eleanor, in a fog, stared at him. He looked odd, all misty
and blurred.

“Nonsense?” Berwick leaned forward. “It’s the law.”

Dent, who’d served as a barrister before he’d inherited the
title, tossed his napkin on his plate and snorted. “I would challenge that.”

“Besides which, it is hardly certain you’re Ulster’s heir.”
Everyone in the room froze. All attention snapped to Darlington. He crossed to
Eleanor and dropped a hand on her shoulder. “Lady Ulster is most likely with
child. My doctor inferred as much the other day.”

Eleanor’s mouth dropped open. All eyes shifted to her.

Helena joined her husband at Eleanor’s side. “Darling. You
weren’t supposed to tell.” Graciously, she slipped two slender fingers beneath
Eleanor’s chin and closed her mouth.

Berwick’s blank gaze flitted from one to the other as he
processed this news. A blotchy red tide rose on his cheeks. He began to shake.
“Liar!”

Darlington ignored the spittle flying across the room. He
puffed out his chest, throwing back his shoulders. “You dare call me a liar in
my own home?”

“Bah. I will not be fed such tarradiddle. They were married
for five years and she never conceived. The prospect that she is carrying his
child now is nonsense.” He glared at Eleanor with such antipathy, her knees
began to knock. Dizziness washed over her. “It’s probably your child,
Darlington,” he sneered. “Or yours.” He pointed at Haversham.

“I-I don’t feel well,” she murmured, but only Helena heard
her. The men were all busy shouting at one another.

Helena gestured to Baxter and several burly footmen swarmed
into the room. One of them stepped behind Eleanor, and just in time. He caught
her as she fell and swept her into his arms. He carried her away into the foyer
and toward the stairs as the others formed a blockade against Berwick, who
screamed profanities and howled and attempted to snatch at her skirts.

Through the swirling fog, she heard a sickening crack—bone
meeting bone—followed by an ominous thud.

And Louisa’s awe-filled voice. “Oh my, Colonel Pennington. I
do believe you’ve killed him.”

Chapter Ten

Her eyes fluttered open to find Ethan bending over her, a
concerned look on his face. She was in her room, she recognized the wallpaper.
He took her hand, kissed it. “Did you…” She cleared her throat. “Did you kill
him?”

He snorted a laugh. “No. Though I would have liked to. The
little weasel is sleeping it off in the servant’s quarters.”

She tried to sit up but he eased her back down. “Well, no
wonder he went mad. Why on earth did Darlington tell him I was with child?”
Such an announcement would only rouse Berwick’s temper, his suspicions. He’d
been so certain he’d inherit, he hadn’t taken any precautions. Ulster would
have locked her away until he was absolutely certain there would not be a
child.

But now…now that the line of succession was in question,
Berwick would be watching her, following her, haunting her like a wraith.

And all she wanted was to be free of him.

“He had to, darling.” Helena hove into view, poking her head
over Ethan’s shoulder. She stepped around his bulk and sat on the bed at
Eleanor’s side. “Berwick must be prepared for the ultimate announcement.” At
Eleanor’s flinch she bit her lip. “Don’t frown, darling. James will protect
you.”

“That’s not why I’m frowning.” Well, it was. At least a bit.
Berwick was a mean, malicious creature. “I hate telling a lie.”

Helena beamed, flicked a telling glance at Ethan and
murmured, “It may not be a lie.”

Ethan’s ears went pink.

Eleanor choked on her own breath. “Helena!”

“Come now, Ellie. You know it’s true. Even now you could be
carrying
Ulster’s
heir.”

Ethan grumbled something unintelligible in response.

Helena ignored him. “Just think of it,” she gushed. “You
will have a child. Your future will be secure. You’ll spend the rest of your
days reigning in absolute luxury as Lady Ulster. You will want for nothing.
Your child will want for nothing—”

“Except a father.” Ethan again. Mumbling again.

“How lovely it will all be.” Helena clapped her hands in
delight.

Eleanor’s stomach lurched. She scrabbled for Ethan’s hand.

His grip was warm and comforting. His expression gentle. He
brushed back her hair and kissed her forehead. “Why don’t you rest now?”

“I can’t.” Eleanor put a hand to her stomach. “I feel ill.”
The vision of a future—her child’s future—in a nest of Ulster vipers made her
belly lurch.

“You see?” Helena chirped. “You’re probably breeding
already.”

“Oh please.” Panic rose, and with it, her gorge. Eleanor sat
up and slapped her hand over her mouth. It was a struggle to hold everything
back as Helena raced for the chamber pot.

She barely made it in time.

Helena huffed as she dabbed at Eleanor’s chin with a cloth.
“That settles it. We’re calling for a doctor.”

Eleanor’s heart lurched. A doctor could confirm a pregnancy.
She wasn’t sure she wanted to know she was with child. Not yet. On the other
hand, she was quite sure she didn’t want to know she wasn’t. That news would
destroy her.

“Baxter! Baxter!” Helena began to warble.

“Helena. No. Please.” Eleanor’s pleading gaze shot from
Helena to Ethan to Darlington, who was standing at the door with his arms
crossed over his chest. They all ignored her.

“Oh, Ellie. How wonderful it will be.” Helena plopped on the
bed. “I know it’s a lot to take in. The thought of being a mother. But you
won’t be alone.”

“I won’t?”

“Certainly not darling.” Helena tucked her into a hug. “Lady
Ulster and Mrs. Winter will be there to help you raise the child. Day in and
day out.”

Eleanor blanched.

The thought of raising her child at Ulster House, with the
dowager countess breathing down her neck and Mrs. Winter hounding her every
step, was, upon reflection, rather horrifying. And God help her, what would
become of the child should anything happen to her? The Ulsters were a cold
brood. Hatred and malice ran rampant through the entire bloodline.

Her child. Raised by them. An appalling prospect.

Helena shot a blinding smile at Ethan. “And Berwick will
also want to have a hand in raising him.” She fluttered her lashes. “Just
think. He can teach the boy to walk and ride a horse. When he gets older, take
the boy hunting in Scotland. Darling. Why are you crying?”

Eleanor didn’t even bother to swallow her sob. Helena,
rather accommodatingly, gave her a handkerchief.

Oh, she was certain, now, she would not be having Ulster’s
heir. No matter what the consequences.

Berwick would be so pleased.

She glanced at Ethan. He looked awful. The skin was pulled
tight over his cheekbones. His complexion was mottled and red. Even as she
watched, he ran a finger between his ascot and his neck.

“Pennington?” Helena tipped her head to the side. “Are you
quite all right?” He didn’t respond, merely sat on the bed at Eleanor’s feet
and scrubbed at his face with his hand. “There are lots of other Ulsters,
aren’t there? Practically oodles of them. I’m sure they will all want to be
involved—”

“Enough!” Ethan leaped to his feet and slashed at the air in
a harsh gesture. Darlington, who was still standing in the doorway,
straightened, growled. Ethan glanced at him and then repeated himself with less
heat. “Enough. Eleanor needs to rest.”

“Of course.” Helena stood. “We should leave you.”

Panic slammed through Eleanor’s chest. “I don’t want to be
alone.”

“Of course not, darling.” She sat back down. “I’ll stay with
you.”

Ethan frowned. “
I’ll
stay with her.”

“Don’t be silly Penning—”

“I’ll stay with her.” Ethan took Helena’s hand and led her to
the door, giving Darlington a warning glare.

His friend nodded and tucked his wife’s hand in his arm.
“Come along, dear.”

But Helena would have none of it. “I beg your pardon? She’s
my
friend.”

Ethan wriggled his fingers. “Shoo.”

“Shoo?” Helena bristled like a hedgehog. She glared at her
husband. “Did he just tell me to shoo?”

“Come along, darling.” James drew her, still sputtering,
from the room.

Ethan closed the door on them, perhaps more firmly than was
necessary. He flicked the lock and came back to the bed, sitting next to
Eleanor. He pulled her into his arms. “Are you all right?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know.” She buried her face in his chest.
“I’m so tired.”

“Just rest then. I’ll lie here with you.”

“You shouldn’t. Berwick’s here.”

“To hell with Berwick. Hush. Just close your eyes.” He
cradled her closer. Bent his head to kiss her.

She turned away. “Not now, Ethan. Please.”

He stilled, then tightened his hold on her. “Right. I’m
sorry. You’re not feeling well.”

“You don’t mind?”

He shrugged. “Well, I did have plans to tie you to the bed
with my ascot tonight, but I suppose it can wait.”

She laughed and nestled deeper.

He tipped up her chin so he could see her and he smiled. It
was a dazzling grin. “I was serious.”

“You planned to tie me to the bed with your ascot?”

“I’ve been thinking about it for days.”

“Mmm. It sounds wonderful.” She sighed. “I’m sorry, but I’m
exhausted.”

“Don’t be sorry.” He pressed her onto the pillows and
stretched out by her side. And held her. He kissed her forehead and murmured,
“I rather like this too.”

“Mmm. So do I.”

He held her until she fell asleep, and then held her still
more. They awoke sometime in the middle of the night, and he did make love to
her then, but it was slow and sleepy and sweet.

She enjoyed it very much.

* * * * *

Helena stormed into her suite, in a fine fettle. “Can you
believe that? Pennington evicting me from a room in my own house? Why, I’ve
never been so offended.” James closed the door and leaned against it. Crossed
his arms over his chest. The shadow in his eyes might have been disbelief, or
cynicism. She wasn’t entirely sure. “What?”

He shook his head. “That was rather naughty of you,
dearest.”

“What? What did I do?”

“Other than paint a grim picture?”

She snorted. Crossed her arms as well and glared at him. “I
was merely giving a certain stubborn man a nudge.”

“More like a push. Over a cliff.”

“Honestly, Darlington. They have to face the facts. Both of
them.”

“Yes. I know. But it was naughty of you.”

She grinned and sauntered toward him, swishing her hips in a
saucy manner. “Yes. It was naughty, I suppose. But necessary. Are you going to
punish me?”

He blinked. She came closer, sidled her body against his.
Reached for something. Stroked.

He stirred.

“Helena…” It was a warning tone.

She ignored it.

“Come on, James. I was naughty. Don’t you think I deserve a
spanking?”

A red tide rose on his cheeks. Something else rose as well.
He glanced down, toward her midsection, and blanched. “Helena, we can’t. You’re
with child.”

She put out a lip. “The doctor said we could resume normal
relations.”

Gently, he set her to his side. Her pout deepened. “He was
not referring to spankings, I’m certain.”

She gaped at him. “Do you mean to say you don’t intend to
paddle my bottom for nine full months?” The thought was incomprehensible.

“No.”

She collapsed in relief…until he completed his thought.

“It’s only seven months now.”

“James!”

“Come now, Helena. We’ll be parents soon. We have to make
adjustments.”

“Not that. Anything but that.” She frowned. Played with the
twill on her sleeve. Put out a lip again. “If those are the rules, don’t plan
on having any more.”

“What?”

She threw up her hands. “No spankings. No babies. No
making
babies. Come to think of it, since I’m with child and so utterly fragile,
perhaps we should sleep in separate rooms. We wouldn’t want anything long and
hard to accidently slip in anywhere warm and
fragile
in the middle of
the night and harm the baby, now would we?”

“Helena, darling. You can’t mean that.” She propped her
fists on her hips and leveled a look on him, one that made him flinch.
“Darling!”

“Come now, James. We’ll be parents soon. We have to make
adjustments.”

The poor man was visibly conflicted. His gaze flicked from
her bosom to her waist to her tapping toe. She was certain her stance
illustrated her intransigence. And he knew her. He knew her well. He knew how
stubborn she could be.

She sensed his wavering and decided to help him along. She
was, after all, quite good at that. “Just a gentle spanking. Not very hard.
Though you must talk to me. You know how I love it when you talk to me. Tell me
how naughty I’ve been.” He shuddered. Closed his eyes. His lips parted. She
slipped closer. “Oh, James. I love the way your hand feels on my bottom. So
hard and hot. It makes me wet for you.” He ran a finger under his ascot. But he
didn’t step away. She advanced. “It makes me so weak and wet and hungry for
your cock. I’m hungry now.” She raked her nails across his chest. They snagged
on his nipples through the fabric of his shirt.

He sucked in a breath. “Maybe just a gentle spanking.”

Helena grinned and danced toward the bed, covering her
bottom with her hands. “Oh. No. Please, sir. Please don’t spank me.” She shot a
glance over her shoulder and quivered at his expression.

Her James. Her dashing, dominant male.

He wanted to spank her. He wanted to drape her over his lap
and paddle her bare bottom until she came.

And, heaven help her, he would.

* * * * *

Eleanor waited in the hall outside Ethan’s room. They were
on their way to the masquerade ball when he’d remembered he’d left something
important behind, and gone back in. She fingered the string to her mask,
spinning the silk confection around in circles and watching it twirl.

Oh dear. She was in trouble.

The doctor had finally come this morning and confirmed that
she was, indeed, with child. She’d sworn him to secrecy, and Helena too, as she
had been in the room. But now the question was, how did she tell Ethan? Did she
tell Ethan?

Would the news ruin what they had?

Would it end it?

It was a pity she didn’t have more experience with such
things.

One thing was for certain, this child would
not
be an
Ulster.

She glanced up and froze as she saw Berwick storming toward
her—as though she had conjured him with her thoughts.

“There you are you, you slut!” he screeched. But that was
all he managed before Ethan, exiting his room into Berwick’s path, smashed him
in the face with a bunched fist.

The little man promptly crumpled to the ground.

“Oh my,” Eleanor said, peering at the moaning mess on the
carpet.

Ethan grunted, rubbing his reddened knuckles.

Eleanor tipped her head to the side. “At some point in time,
darling, you really need to stop doing that.”

Ethan considered the lump of Ulster. “I don’t know. I doubt
I shall ever tire of it.” He grinned and offered his arm. “Shall we?”

She took his outstretched arm and stepped lightly over the
body. “Yes. Let’s.”

The ball was in full swing when Eleanor and Ethan came down
the curving staircase, arm in arm, their masks in place. Ethan had insisted
upon it. He had plans for the evening and their anonymity was central to his
pleasure.

The ballroom was crowded. Helena’s party was a complete
crush. Every soul from miles around was here. Ethan tried, and failed, to bite
back his grin. The more people here, the less chance they would be noticed.

And in truth, they slipped through the crowd like wraiths.
In their dominoes and masks, they looked just like everyone else. He kept a
firm hold on Eleanor’s hand. He didn’t want to lose her and have to hunt
through this multitude to find her.