Lady Beresford's Lover (22 page)

Silvia’s forehead creased, but she didn’t say anything.

Clara merely waved Vivian away. “That is a wonderful idea. I believe I shall do the same. Will you be attending the rout with us?”

“I don’t think I’ll be up to it.” She made her way quickly to her apartment. She could not be around all those young ladies wishing to wed.

“You look as if a nice cup of tea wouldn’t be amiss.” Punt stepped out of the dressing room with an almost spritely gait.

Vivian removed her fine-grain kid gloves. “If I have any more tea, I shall drown in it.”

“Then a sherry.”

A few moments later, she was in a comfortable chair, her feet up, with a glass of wine. “Thank you.”

“Will you be going out with her ladyship this evening?” Punt asked almost cheerfully.

Either Vivian was more exhausted than she’d thought, or there was something different about her maid. Had Punt met a man she was interested in? It seemed to be going around this Season. “No. I don’t want to try to think of an excuse to leave early.”

“Probably for the best. You’ve been racking about a lot, and you don’t want to start burning the candle at both ends, as they say.”

Definitely different than her usual staid self. “You seem happier.”

“Me?” Punt glanced back at Vivian. “I’ve finally decided that this visit to London will be good for you.”

“Indeed.” She raised her brows. “And what brought that about?”

“The fact that you haven’t fretted once over your dead husband.” Her maid went back to the dressing room.

Until today, when Miss Banks had brought up her husband, Vivian had not given him as much thought as she had at Beresford.

No matter what Vivian had to do, she would be free of him, and when she had a house of her own, no one would be able to tell her she was doing something the wrong way and countermand her orders. Anger and embarrassment surged through her at the memories, feelings she’d hidden for years behind a polite and dutiful façade.

Did she even know who she was anymore? She had been so young when she’d wed; had she ever known herself? The only times she’d ever felt as if she had any power were when she’d moved to the dower house and now, with Rupert. He was the only gentleman who had ever done as she asked.

Vivian closed her eyes, willing the memory of his caresses back. Tonight she would experience even more, if she allowed herself to do so. Yet could she?

S
hortly after leaving his parents’ home, Rupert arrived at the house on Hill Street. Vivian’s maid, Miss Punt, opened the door. This time she smiled. “Good evening, my lord.”

He handed her his hat, cane, and gloves. “Good evening, Miss Punt. How is her ladyship?”

“Nervous as a cat.” She didn’t lose her grin. “You’d better work fast.”

He had already heard from his mother that Vivian planned to go on a house-buying search. Although he’d like nothing more than to let her depart and follow, it might cause a great deal of speculation. Politically and socially, Rupert had put himself in a position where he could no longer move in the shadows. “Would it be possible for us to have a slightly longer conversation in the next day or so?”

“That would be best. During the middle of the day I can come and go without anyone taking notice.”

“To-morrow afternoon, around two o’clock. We may meet at the circle at the end of the gardens, where we cannot be seen from the house.”

The maid nodded sharply. “I’ll be there.”

“Thank you.” He took the stairs two at a time. By the time he and Punt met, he’d also have the next nightgown for Vivian.

Knocking once, he opened the door. She sat in front of the fireplace, which had been lit against the night chill. The glass of wine in her hand was full, as if she had just poured it. The white of the gown almost glowed in the dim light.

“Thank you for wearing my present. Do you like it?”

Vivian turned swiftly, one hand going to her throat as droplets of wine splashed over her other hand, to the rug. “Forgive me. I didn’t hear you enter.”

“No, it is for you to forgive me.” He snoodled over to her, approaching her as he would a frightened animal. Rupert drew out his handkerchief, wiping her hand and setting the glass on a small round table next to her. “I should have knocked more loudly. Will you?”

“Of course I will.” She smiled softly. “Thank you for the use of your handkerchief. If you leave it—”

Reaching out his hand, he stroked Vivian’s cheek with his finger, interrupting her flow of words. “The gown is beautiful on you.”

Her breath hitched. “And much softer.”

He trailed his finger over her jaw and down her neck to the top where the tiny button started. “Yes, much softer.”

Finally, she leaned into his caress. “I’ve missed you dreadfully.”

“As I have you.” Rupert covered Vivian’s mouth with his own. Gently, he pulled her up, bringing her fully into his arms. “I’ve thought of nothing else but you since I left this morning.” He ran his palm down her back, pressing the tips of his fingers into her spine. “Shall we have a glass of wine and a bite to eat, or will you let me make love to you first?”

She melted into him, sighing when he palmed her breast. “Love me. All I want is for you to love me.”

Good Christ, he did, but now was not the time to tell her. Earlier to-day he had finally understood how fragile she truly was, and he only hoped he could help her to heal from the scars her husband had inflicted on her psyche. Rupert swept her into his arms and carried her to the bed.

Laying her down as he kissed her, he quickly removed his jacket, cravat, waistcoat, and shirt as he toed off his shoes. When he took his place next to her, she touched his chest, as if she’d never felt a male body before, and perhaps she hadn’t. Rupert attempted to think how he would act if forced to be with one woman when he loved another, and could not. The one thing he knew was that he would not hurt her. Now, he must show her how much he loved her, mind, soul, and body.

“You look better than the Marbles.” Her tone was breathy and full of wonder.

He could have chuckled, but her countenance was too serious as she studied him.

She touched his nipple. “May I kiss you there?”

“You may kiss me anywhere you like. My body is yours to command.”

Vivian grinned. “I feel as if I am exploring a new continent.”

She nuzzled his chest, placing feather-light kisses on him. By the time she touched her tongue tentatively to his nipple, he was harder than he’d ever been in his life. Should he wait until she agreed to be his wife before they consummated their union, or should he show her what their love would be like?

Vivian continued her innocent explorations, and Rupert began cataloging his plants. It was a damned good thing he’d left his pantaloons on, or she would probably run away in fear.

He sucked in a sharp breath as her teeth raked his nipple.

“Did I hurt you?”

There was so much concern in her eyes, he could have wept. How seriously had she been wounded? Was that the reason she hadn’t wanted him to touch her mons? “Not at all. It feels good.”

“Then I’ll do it again.” Against his chest, she smiled.

As she moved against him, the embroidery of her gown teased his stomach, increasing his need. He switched from plants to multiplication, all the time reminding himself that his forbearance was for Vivian. They could not have a full life if she was still afraid of what he might do to her.

Rupert stroked every part of her he could reach. Soon they were both panting and moaning, creating a symphony of their own. He reached down, gradually raising the edge of her nightgown higher, waiting for her to say no. Instead, she latched on to his lips with her own. Soon their tongues tangled in an intimate dance. Her fingers moved down his back and over his bottom.

God, this was torture. Sweet torture, but torture nonetheless. Finally, he covered her labia and stroked. Within seconds Vivian came apart in his hands.

“Oh God, oh God,” she screamed. He held her until her breathing evened. “Rupert, I never knew anything could feel that good. Even better than last night.”

Rupert wanted to place her hand over his hard shaft, to bury himself in her slick heat. He bit his inner cheek hard. “May I assume you like when I touch you there?”

“It never felt good before.”

“I’ll always make you feel good.”

“You will, won’t you?” Awe filled her voice.

For the rest of our lives, if you allow me.
“I promise you I shall.”

He held her as she fell asleep, trying to think of ways he could murder a dead man.

 

Vivian woke with a start. The candles had burned down in their holders. Rupert still had his arms wrapped around her, and once more the sense of safety she always experienced with him seeped through her skin into her bones. Even if she had wanted to, at this moment, she could not have left him. And he would keep his promise, until he discovered she was Vivian or saw her deformity. Even then, he would do nothing to harm her, but would gently set her aside. That is what would break her heart, and she must leave before that happened.

Smoothing her hand down the nightgown, she smiled. It was truly beautiful. The white work was a wonder in itself.

When she had donned the garment earlier, she’d been concerned it would be too revealing, but the way it was constructed, the gown covered everything. It was simply lovely and soft. Much better than the starched linen of her costume.

Next to her Rupert stirred. If only time could stop and she could remain here with him forever. Not wishing to wake him, yet unable to keep her hands off his glorious body, she lightly wended the light blond hairs covering his muscular chest. If only they could remain here forever.

His stomach rumbled before she heard his words. “Are you hungry?”

Ravenous. Which was a surprise. Normally, she didn’t eat much, and when Edgar had visited her she’d lost her appetite for days afterward. “I am.”

“Let’s see what we have.”

Holding her hand, he led her to the table, which had been set with not only the fruit and cheese from earlier, but with small, tart-like pies. “I wonder what these are.”

“They appear to be a type of filled pastry.”

Rupert held a chair for Vivian before taking his own place, then put a little of everything on her plate. As she hovered her fork over the tart, Rupert bit into it and sighed.

“Is it that good?”

“Heaven. You didn’t tell me you had a cook here, or that he was French.”

“How do you know he’s French?”

“These, my dear, are made with a type of dough only the French and Italians make.”

Naturally, he would know. She ate a piece. Pork, but so tender it melted in her mouth, and perfectly spiced as well. “This is wonderful.” Then she remembered that Vivian knew about his travels, but Cleo did not. “But you must have traveled widely to recognize the crust.”

He gave her a quizzical look, and for a moment she thought he knew. “Before the war ended I traveled to the Levant as part of my Grand Tour. The entire journey was shorter than those of my contemporaries. I don’t like leaving my estate for extended periods, yet I visited places they did not. I simply did not stay as long.”

This time she could answer truthfully. “I wish I could have traveled. London is the farthest I’ve been from home.”

“I’ll take you to France one day.” He wolfed down another pie.

If only she could live her life as Cleo instead of Vivian. Cleo was as adventurous as Vivian was not, and Rupert desired Cleo, not Vivian. She choked down the rest of her pie. “I’d love to go to France with you.”

“Then we shall.” He covered her hand with his and smiled with his eyes as well as his lips. “As long as you are with me, you can do what you wish.”

Lord help her. She fell into his warm gaze and deeper in love with Rupert. She dragged her eyes away from his. “We shall see.” Somewhere in the house a clock chimed half three. “We should be going.”

“Soon.” He stood. “Have you had enough to eat?”

As if she could eat anything else with her stomach once again tied in knots. This time of her own making. “Yes.”

“Then let me love you once more.”

Rupert kissed her and it occurred to Vivian that she had a better chance of throwing herself off a cliff than resisting him. “Yes.”

This time, she came more quickly and harder than she’d done before, but still he caressed her and kissed her as if, like her, he couldn’t get enough. Under her nightgown, his nimble fingers touched and toyed with her bare skin. Setting her on fire. He gave a gravelly chuckle when she reached completion a third time.

Was he falling in love with Cleo? That was the only reason Vivian could think of. Why else would a man continue to pleasure a lady when he received so little? Not that she would complain. Every time her husband had exercised his marital rights, it had been excruciatingly painful. Tonight, she began to believe that with Rupert, it would not be.

Yet if they did mate, and if he was falling in love, he would surely hate her when she told him the truth. Perhaps she should simply leave without saying good-bye.

When he lifted his head, he was breathing heavily. “Will you keep until to-morrow?”

Regardless of her worries, she laughed. “Are you concerned I’ll not come?”

He gave her a wicked grin, and it took her a moment to realize what she’d said. Vivian could feel her cheeks heating in a blush.

“I might be.” He cradled her face. “But know this. I would hunt you down and bring you back.”

The strong, stern lines of his face and intensity in his eyes told her he would do everything he said. She placed her hands over his. Tears pricked her eyes. Never again would she find a man like Rupert, and it scared her to death. She had lost herself, her heart to him. She should leave Town in the morning and never return. She should allow him to find a lady to marry. “I’ll be here.”

He took her in one last searing kiss, scattering her wits to the wind, before gathering his garments and striding out of the bedchamber.

A few minutes later, while Vivian was still wondering at the way Rupert made her feel, Punt entered the room. “It’s time for you to change, my lady.”

Vivian went through the motions she had gone through thousands of times before, yet she couldn’t remember a thing, other than Rupert’s last kiss. It was as if he had branded her as his own. How could she leave him, but how could she not?