Ravishing in Red (27 page)

“Perhaps, in part. I did not realize it. However, his delight in your company may have encouraged me to press you more than I might have.” He folded his arms and turned his gaze to the stars, as if seeking distraction. Or escape again. “Two halves of a whole. It has become so normal I do not even notice unless the truth cannot be avoided. Of course, I did not expect—well, I did not plan to share you quite so literally.”

Shock cleared her head to a state of precise clarity. Memories marched through, of comments and questions, of reactions and moods. She feared that she understood all too well what he implied.

“If you think that I hold romantic feelings for your brother, and deplore his infirmity for that reason, you are very wrong.”

He looked at her. Darkly. Tensely.

“He is a friend,” she said. “A dear friend. I do not love him except as a brother. Certainly not like a husband or lover. Whatever the two of you share, it does not include me.”

She embraced him, so he would perhaps believe her. His arms pulled her closer and he looked down as if he could see her thoughts in the dark. She reached up and cupped his face with her hands and guided him down so she could kiss him and maybe he would know that even when he was a stranger he had not only excited her body.

The result was inevitable. She knew that kiss would be like fire to oil tonight. Another escape perhaps, but it would bridge the awkward chasm forming today.

The moon provided just enough light to create a magical night. Dark trees draped the clearing, and with their first kiss it became a private, intimate chamber of nature. The stars hung low in a canopy of brilliant dots.

The passion built in a rush of grasping embraces and furious kisses. She welcomed the assault, encouraged it. Within its power and hardness a sweet emotion flowed, born of his confidences, and now of her relief that this complicated day had not left her alone after all, watching him stepping back instead of forward.

His embrace clutched her, supported her, controlled her. He lowered to his knees and his kisses claimed her stomach and hips, her thighs and mound. They burned through her garments and into her blood until tongues of fiery pleasure licked her skin.

He pulled her shawl off and threw it down, then pulled her to it with him, until she lay atop him on the ground, entwined in an embrace so taut they might be trying to break into each other’s souls.

He set her up on her knees and caressed down the front of her gown. “Open it.”

She worked the buttons impatiently, rising up so she could reach them all. He unfastened his own garments. Her body quaked at what was coming. A deep, low pulse begged.

He pushed the fabric of her gown aside so it gaped wide, exposing her. The stars entered his eyes while his hands began their luscious caresses of her breasts. Soon she rocked to that lower throb of need as it became unbearable.

She pulled the fabric out from beneath her so that pulse could feel his hardness and warmth and promise. It was delicious kneeling up like this, straddling him, being teased in the most physical ways in the moonlight.

He drew her down toward him so his tongue could torture her breasts. He entered her just enough to taunt and make her crazed. Her breasts were so sensitive it seemed that every lick on them sent a jolt of pleasure down to where they joined.

She was almost weeping by the time he thrust into her fully. She threw back her head and opened her eyes and saw the stars falling and entering her. Then she collapsed into his embrace while he ravished her.

 

 

 

 

T
hey slipped through the garden before dawn. Sated and dishabille, they stole into the house like two servants having a clandestine affair.

He left her at her chamber door. She kissed him before opening it. Was it her fourth kiss given freely, without him luring her into abandon first? He was losing count.

“You could change it if you want,” she said. “We could move out of that house. You could leave government. I will do whatever you require.” She smiled. “We could go to Brazil.”

Her concern touched him. He kissed her one last time before he left, to let her know that. “You are too good, and I am grateful. But I do not know how I want my life to be anymore. I do not know what I want.”

Except her. He knew he wanted her. Both her passion and her heart.

There it was.

How unexpected.

A
fter four days Sebastian concluded that even an agreeable and passionate wife would eventually grow tired of a husband’s nonstop use of her. Since he could not restrain himself in this idyllic setting where nothing interfered, he gave the word to the servants that he and Audrianna would return to London.

She fell asleep in his arms almost as soon as the carriage left the courtyard. He should feel guilty for exhausting her. Instead he only knew the devil’s contentment.

After a night at an inn, she was more herself the next day. She noticed, therefore, that they were not on the same road as when they went down to the country.

“We are in Middlesex,” she said after examining the passing farms and buildings when they approached London. “We are not far from Cumberworth.”

“As long as we are out and about, I thought you might like to see your friends.”

She smiled with delight. He felt like a magnanimous king giving his approval to her petition to maintain these friendships, even though she had made it clear that she would do as she liked. Thus did women turn sane men into their fools.

Her smile soon waned, like a flag brought to half-mast. “It will not be a happy visit. I will have to talk to Celia. I had not written to her before we left. I could not find the courage or the words.”

“It may be easier if you see her. It will certainly be kinder.”

Mrs. Joyes emerged from the house when the carriage stopped. She embraced Audrianna and welcomed them both. “Lizzie and Celia are in the greenhouse. You must go to them at once. They will be so happy you have come to us.”

“I will go. I need to speak to Celia privately, Daphne.” She glanced back at him.

“Then be off with you. I am sure that Lizzie will allow the privacy you seek.”

“I will remain out here and enjoy the fair day,” Sebastian said. “You will find me in the garden when you are ready to leave. Will you join me for a turn, Mrs. Joyes? I believe there is a portal over here.”

Mrs. Joyes strolled beside him to the portal and into the garden. He could see Audrianna in her pale, crepe bonnet enter the greenhouse and greet her two friends with embraces. The glass’s distortions did not permit a clear view of their features, but he knew Celia from her blond hair. The other dark-haired one must be Lizzie.

Soon that dark head moved away and Audrianna was alone with Celia.

“It will not be a pleasant conversation, will it?” Mrs. Joyes asked, pulling her concerned gaze away from the glass panes.

“No. Do you know what is being said, and why?”

“I think so. You have learned about Celia’s mother and have forbidden Audrianna to be friends with her.”

“No doubt you find that harsh. Audrianna understands even if you do not.”

“I understand too, Lord Sebastian. Even people who fight the world have to choose their battles. Audrianna is ill-equipped to fight this one, and must retreat.”

“I believe she intends to continue visiting here. The friendship will not end completely.”

She raised her eyebrows, impressed. He let her believe he had agreed to this, instead of being given little say in it.

“I am surprised you guessed what this was about,” he said. “Audrianna says none of you know the full history of the others. That there is a rule against inquiring.”

“I know more than most. It is my home, after all. I bring them here. It is a good rule, although I think that you do not approve.”

“As developments indicate, it is a rule with risks. You might at least have warned Audrianna.”

“You mean warned
you
, don’t you? There was a very good chance no one would find out. I owed Celia discretion more than I owed you an explanation.”

She stopped to examine a climbing rose on the wall of the conservatory. She muttered something to herself about it needing trimming, and they strolled on.

“Do any more surprises await?” he asked. There were two other women here with vague histories, including the one beside him now.

“Possibly. One never knows. Women often leave their pasts behind for very good reasons. If the past finds them despite their best efforts . . .” She shrugged.

“As long as none of you are murderesses or pirates, I suppose my wife’s reputation will survive more revelations.”

She did not find his little joke amusing. “I will tell you a story that explains why even I do not know everything. When I first came to this house, I had a servant. I then hired another. This second woman was new to the area, and of vague background. She seemed honest to me, but very meek, so I took her on. She became like a sister to me. One might say she began The Rarest Blooms. The greenhouse that you see is to a large extent due to her knowledge of horticulture and what she taught me. I also learned from that sweet woman’s friendship that a woman without family need not be alone.”

“That was good of you to take her in, and you both benefited. However, one fortunate experience does not mean all will follow the same path.”

“Hear me out, sir. She became friendly with the other servant and one day confided to her what I already had been told. That she had run away from a husband who beat her. She revealed her real name. The other girl was not discreet. She meant no harm, but the secret was out. The brute of a husband arrived here and dragged her away, as was his right by law.” Her face tensed. “I will never forget the terror in her eyes. I was powerless to help her.”

She took a deep breath and swallowed the emotion that had crept into her voice. “He hit her, twice, right in front of me. With his fist, and on her face. He drew blood and—Anyway, now when one of my sisters does not want to speak of her past, I respect it, Lord Sebastian, and I expect all the women here to do so as well.”

There was nothing to say in response to a story like that. However, it confirmed his belief that the ambiguities in this household could be potentially dangerous. “I hope that your goodness and generosity are always rewarded in kind, Mrs. Joyes.”

“The day will come when they will not be, I think. Thus far my judgment of character has protected me, however.” She looked past him, toward the greenhouse. “Here comes Audrianna. She looks close to weeping. I must go and comfort Celia. I will leave your wife’s sorrow to your care, Lord Sebastian.”

 

 

 

 

S
ebastian’s time soon became absorbed with government and the start of Parliament’s sessions. Audrianna’s time became occupied with navigating the demands of a rapidly increasing social schedule.

She began receiving callers. She chose Tuesday afternoons, when she knew Lady Wittonbury left the house. She received the curious and the cruel, the friendly and the grasping. There were more of the last than she anticipated. Far too many people were under the illusion that the wife of Lord Sebastian could influence him to their husband’s and family’s benefit.

Most of them were women, but some were men. The former could be very blunt, but the latter hoped flattery and time would win her over. She wondered what Sebastian would think if he heard some of the poetic appreciations sent her way during those calls.

Then again, he might not find it at all odd. Perhaps he was calling on the wife of some lord or MP while he was gone, casting his own lures to engender favor for one of his bills.

Two weeks after the visit to Airymont, she brought a book to the drawing room to await the cards and visitors. Outside the streets were busy with carriages and wagons. The annual influx of the best families to London had begun in force.

She slipped a letter out of her book. Celia had written. They had agreed to continue this communication, as well as Audrianna’s visits. She looked at the familiar hand on the address and thought about that meeting where she asked Celia if Lady Ferris’s story was true.

Celia had displayed no embarrassment. No shame. That was a relief. And she had known at once what it meant to their friendship. No rancor there. No hurt that was visible. Audrianna had been the one to weep, and Celia the one to comfort.

Now Celia had written, and a very cryptic note it was too. Perhaps she thought Sebastian would be reading it, and dared not write plainly.

I have cause to believe that your queries will receive some answers soon.
She meant the queries about the Domino. Thus far no letters had arrived for her at the office of Mr. Loversall, the solicitor whom she had arranged as a mail drop. Nor had the employees at the hotels and theaters that she had approached contacted her with information either.

It was unlikely that Celia herself had met the Domino, so her allusion was too mysterious to make much sense.

She rather wished Celia had written about other things, like the state of Lizzie’s health and the garden’s resurrection with spring growth. She found herself visiting the flower shops supplied by The Rarest Blooms, and purchasing bouquets that made her nostalgic.

“Madam.” The voice startled her out of her thoughts. The butler stood in front of her, salver in hand.

She read the card and her mood clouded. Roger had called. Now, that was bold.

She agreed to see him and braced herself for echoes of those old pangs of sorrow. Instead, when he entered the drawing room, she experienced nothing at all except a mild irritation that he did not have the good sense to stay away.

He was in his uniform and looked very smart. His gaze swept the drawing room, then settled on her lone figure. His eyes sparkled with a familiarity that he should not show anymore, even if they were alone.