In the Arms of an Earl (29 page)

She twisted the fringe on the lap rug between her fingers. She was quite at a loss, as well.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Jane dismissed Sarah, unable to bear her maid’s kind attention. She wasn’t worthy of kindness. No matter what Alice said about Frederick, she would not sink to the level of breaking her marriage vows. Perhaps she should heed Lady Brewster’s advice and pretend all was well. If Alice had done it for years…

Her heart sank when Frederick’s door banged shut. Guilt ate through her until she was nearly blinded with the full effect of what she had done. What must he think of her? To have found her with Jeremy was probably the worst betrayal. With a groan of disgust, she peeled off Alice’s gown and kicked off her shoes. In her haste to pull off her silk stockings, her fingernails caught in the gossamer fabric and tore long trails.

Wearing only her flimsy chemise, she sat before the vanity and attempted to unwind her hair from its elaborate style, wincing as one sharp pin pricked her scalp.

Why, why, why
?

Her mind raced over the words until it became a litany. Why did Alice hate her so much? She had purposely abandoned her at Lady Brewster’s, only to inform Frederick of her whereabouts. If she hadn’t been able to escape Lord Winters…if Jeremy Parker had not been there…

She dropped her brush on the table. What was Jeremy doing in London, and more to the point, at Lady Brewster’s party? It was almost as if he had been waiting for someone. Susanna, perhaps?

At the thought of her rival, Jane buried her face in her hands, pressing as hard as she could against her forehead to force the image of the other woman from her mind. She’d been out with Frederick, of course. Frederick, with his late night meetings and speech preparations, was unable to have dinner with his own wife but perfectly willing to gallivant about town with his mistress.

Jeremy’s harsh words still rang in her ears.

No legal claim
.

Leaning into the edge of the table, she fought an onset of panic. What should she do, now that she knew? Confront him, or pretend ignorance? How did other wives handle such situations?

“May I come in?”

She whipped around. Frederick stood in the doorway. He’d shed his coat and his waistcoat remained half buttoned.

She drew a ragged breath, glad she hadn’t given in to tears. “Yes, of course.” She wanted to run to him, to fling herself into his arms and hold him until all was right between them. Instead, she picked up her brush and resumed her pretense of getting ready for bed.

“Where’s Sarah?”

“I dismissed her. It’s late.” She bit her lip. She didn’t need to remind
him
how late it was, or that she was the cause of it.

“May I ask a favor?”

“Yes?”

“Will you please come here?” His voice didn’t hold its usual warm tone.

Trembling, she rose from the chair. She should be relieved he’d come to her straightaway rather than continuing the pretense of a sham marriage. Perhaps he would admit his infidelity and ask her forgiveness.

Or worse, confess his love for Susanna.

She stood before him and crossed her arms over her chest, her old shyness that had taken weeks to dissipate, returned. What if he did not intend to discuss his activities, but hers? How could she convince him Alice had planned the entire evening and Jeremy’s presence was as much a surprise to her as it was to him? She shivered, even though she was standing beside the fireplace.

He’d remained silent while she struggled with her doubts. From his slow, deep breathing, she didn’t dare look up at him or say a word. He must be terribly angry. Her hands shook, and she bit her lip to quell the tears only seconds away

“Jane, I must ask you…”

“Oh, Frederick, I’m so very sorry! I know what you must think, and I…”

His fingers clamped around her wrist, and she stiffened. Now, it would come. He’d unleash a husband’s right of punishment.

She squeezed her eyes shut, almost welcoming a box on the ear.

The softest kiss she’d ever known brushed her palm. She opened her eyes and tilted back her head to look at him, to say something…anything…

With a muffled groan, he kissed her square on the mouth, drawing her bottom lip between his teeth and nipping gently. She fell into his embrace, clutching his shoulders. Her heart threatened to explode from relief.

Happiness.

Desperation.

He lifted her to her toes. With a quick tug, the thin chemise fell loose of its ribbon ties and floated like a cloud down her body. His mouth muffled her gasp and continued its slow, possessive claim of her lips. The whiskers on his jaw scratched the sensitive skin below her ear, startling her senses and making her tremble.

He swung her up in his arms. When he deposited her on the bed, she pulled at the heavy quilt. Just as quickly, he snatched it off. She seized a pillow, a hysterical laugh rising to her lips.

The pillow went the way of the quilt. She clasped her arms about her knees, wondering where her quiet, romantic husband had gone. His replacement was a dark-eyed, scowling stranger, danger seeping from every pore.

“What are you doing?” she asked in a tiny voice.

He fumbled with his shirt, his chest muscles flexing as he tugged at the fabric. Buttons popped, and he flung it across the room.

“I’m going to make love with my wife.”

His breeches soon joined the rest of his clothes. When he faced her again, she gasped at the sight that greeted her. Fully aroused, Frederick was positively intimidating.

He reached for her, but she was swifter, evading him by inches. He growled and seized her ankle. She kicked free, but his hand snaked up her leg and gripped her thigh. He pulled her across the silken sheet until she collided with him. His strong body pinned her to the bed, and he easily captured both of her small wrists in his broad hand. He held them over her head, leaving her completely exposed and vulnerable. Heart pounding like a doe on the run from a determined stag, she closed her eyes.

“Open your eyes,” he whispered, his voice shaking with desire. She peeked beneath her lowered eyelids. “What do you want?” he murmured.

She hadn’t even seen his lips move. She gasped her response.

“You.”

She slid down the sheet until they touched. The anticipation was too sweet to bear. All the loneliness of the past few weeks—all the tears she’d shed—vanished in the moment she was with him. Her blood pounded in her ears, throbbed in her veins, and seared her heart with the fullness of her love. She wanted to cry out his name, to beg for she knew not what, but sensed her redemption would come from this.

He stared into her eyes. The fire bathed them both in flickering light, and shadows swirled over his chest and face, turning him from dark devil to beloved angel in seconds. She hid her face in his shoulder to hide her embarrassment but was unable to stop her body’s wanton response.

He rose up on his elbows to gaze down at her. “Look at me, Jane.” His breath danced across her face like a gentle breeze. “You’re very beautiful, you know. So lovely, my heart aches when I look at you.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck. His head dipped, and he kissed her lightly between her breasts. She arched against him, not bothering to stifle her gasp.

“So lovely,” he breathed. The earlier scowl was gone, replaced with the expression she knew and loved so well.

“You make me feel lovely.”

He brushed his fingers across her cheek, swiping tears away. He moved inside her, and she tightened around him, gratified when his eyes closed shut in rapture.

“My modest vixen,” he said with a short laugh.

She wrapped her legs around him. “I’m so sorry about tonight,” she whispered, her lips moving against the curve of his ear.

He shook his head, his body quivering with the force of their combined desire. “Let’s not discuss it, dearest. I regret I wasn’t home this evening. I would have ordered an early supper before taking you to bed.”

She caressed his scalp, dragging the silky locks of hair through her fingers. Had Susanna ever touched him thus? She swallowed a sob and pushed the thought away. At least, in the confines of their bed, he was hers.

“Come with me,” he urged, and his speed increased, until he slipped in and out of her like she was made of slick satin.

Clutching his shoulders, she could dig into him as hard as she wanted, and he wouldn’t mind at all. She pressed into his flesh, wanting to leave a mark, her mark. So that every woman in the world would know that Frederick Blakeney, the sixth Earl of Falconbury, and Colonel Frederick Blakeney, late of the King’s Fifth Regiment, and F.B., the incredible genius composer and musician, belonged to her.

And only her.

Her ears filled with the rush of water, of rumbling storms and torrential seas. Her vision swam with swirling colors, dancing images so elusive she couldn’t make out the patterns, only see them half-hidden through a vague fog. She was dimly aware of his voice in her ear, panting and urgent, begging and commanding.

Until the world disappeared and it was just the two of them, adrift on a wide sea containing them both.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Jane sat beside Frederick on a rug they’d spread over the clipped green grass of St. James’s Park. The footmen had carried a large basket filled with delicacies Jane could only wonder about, as Frederick had kept everything a surprise. He asked the coachman to return in a few hours, and Jane basked in the afterglow of their lovemaking that had healed the rift between them.

“Parliament can do without me for a day,” he’d said, and now, gazing up at him while he extolled the virtues of an overstuffed roast beef sandwich, she hoped they could.

They ate in comfortable silence, and he waggled his eyebrows at her a few times until she’d nearly choked on a bite of apple tart. Between bites of food, he kissed her. When they’d eaten, he laid his head in her lap with a contented sigh.

He had not mentioned Jeremy once. She was content to pretend the night before hadn’t happened, and felt confident they were beginning their life together all over again.

She plucked a daisy from the grass and trailed it across his lips the way he had done to her at Hartleigh. A few speckles of yellow pollen dropped from the center. She brushed them away with the flower petals.

“That tickles.”

She giggled and continued. He opened his mouth and chomped on the daisy. The stem stuck between his lips. She stifled a laugh, and he sat up and pulled her onto his lap. He attempted to kiss her, poking her with the flower stem. Jane shook her head to avoid his mouth, but soon gave in, tasting the tiny petals of the flower, which stuck to them both.

“Oh dear! Perhaps I’ll come back later.”

A feminine voice reached her. Jane snapped her head away, her heart sinking. Frederick laughed and rose to his feet.

“Susanna! Tell me you didn’t break with convention and rise before noon.”

She sank to the blanket beside Jane, arranging her skirts and pelisse gracefully over her smart kid boots. “He’s never angry with me for long,” she whispered loudly.

Jane couldn’t respond. Disbelief and regret that her private outing with Frederick was ruined contaminated her previous happiness. To hide her disappointment, she began tidying the remnants of lunch.

“Have you forgiven me, Freddie?” Susanna simpered.

He touched Jane’s arm. “Leave those, my darling. Hawkins will gather our mess.” He frowned at Susanna. “I haven’t quite forgiven you yet, Miss Olivier,” he scolded, but the affection in his voice was unmistakable. “You were quite shocking last night.”

She leaned into Jane’s side. “I cannot remain in my tower, night after night, can I?”

“I assume Mr. Parker was a complete gentleman and deposited you at your aunt’s with your reputation intact?”

Strangely, Jane could not detect any sign of jealousy or animosity where Jeremy was concerned. If she didn’t know better, Frederick sounded more like a concerned uncle than a jealous lover.

“Mr. Parker was very protective of me. You forget, Freddie, I have been acquainted with him for almost as long as you have.” She fluttered her eyelashes at him and laughed before turning to Jane. “My dear Jane, you really must teach our Freddie to unlock my tower doors once in a while! Gracious, he makes me seem like a hedonist.”

“What are you doing here in the park?” Jane asked, unable to help her bluntness. Hardly a coincidence Susanna had just happened upon them. Neither Frederick nor Susanna seemed to notice her tone.

“Yes, Susanna,” Frederick countered, “Whatever are you doing in St. James’s?”

She reached into her reticule, which matched the rest of her splendid garments, and withdrew three slender cards.

“I stopped by Falconbury House and was told I’d find you here. I’ve brought a peace offering.”

Jane studied the cards and couldn’t help but gasp in delight. They were tickets to the evening performance of
The Marriage of Figaro
. Her excitement at the prospect of the opera stifled some of her depression. A night at the theatre with her husband would be just the thing to mend whatever was broken between them. Susanna flicked the cards toward Frederick. He took them with an elaborate sigh and tucked them into his waistcoat.

“It was a magnum of Champagne last time you caused me grief,” he remarked. “And three tickets…why, there are only two of us. Are you inviting yourself along?”

When she smiled, her perfect white teeth gleamed between her rosy lips. “You would not suggest I go alone, would you? I know how you detest a scandal.”