Springtime Pleasures (17 page)

“Ahhhh, yes, the red lacquer,” he said, remembering the drive in Sammy Whitstock’s high-perch phaeton, the feeling of her body next to his, and all at once he knew that coming to the conservatory had been a grievous mistake.

He should take Miss Stanton back to the ballroom straight away before their absence was noticed. Though who should notice their absence in the press of Lady Frimsey’s party was anybody’s guess.

Still…

Yet instead of insisting they go back, he sat down next to Miss Stanton and took her gloved hand. Again. “I have long wished to thank you for all you have done for my sister.”

At his words, the amusement disappeared from her face. “I haven’t done anything, really,” she said softly as she returned the pressure of his fingers. “Isabella is a darling girl, and you must know that it is nothing but a pleasure to be her friend.”

“No.” He shook his head. “Indeed, you are too modest. You know—surely you must know what an uplifting effect you have had upon her.” He swallowed, his heart nearly bursting with all he wished to say to her. “Tonight she is like the old Isabella
before
…” He took a deep breath. “You didn’t talk about male cousins and siblings when I joined you earlier, did you?”

With her free hand she pushed her spectacles up her nose. She looked at him, then looked away. It seemed to him as if her colour deepened. “I am afraid we did not.”

“How very wonderful!” He smiled broadly. Izzie had been roasting him just as she would have done as a little girl in pigtails.

“Well, I trust you wouldn’t find it so wonderful if you knew what we
have
been talking about.” Miss Stanton sighed, still not looking at him.

Greatly intrigued, he asked, “What have you been talking about, then?”

Another sigh, then finally she turned back to him. Somewhat sheepishly, she admitted, “I asked her what a courtesan is.” And then, more crossly, “
You
, if you remember, failed to explain the term to me.”

A whoop of laughter burst out of him, surprising them both.

“My ludicrous, darling girl!” As if of its own volition, his arm slipped around her shoulders, and his mouth swooped down to capture her lips.

They tasted as sweet as he had imagined—no, sweeter, so much sweeter—and in a heartbeat, the kiss changed from friendly and teasing to wild and passionate. Soft, startled moans came from deep within her throat as he suckled her lower lip and ran his tongue over the satiny inner flesh.

She murmured something, and then he was inside her mouth, tasting her fully for the very first time.

Her body melted against his. One of her hands fluttered against his face, curved around his neck, and finally moved to his shoulder, where her fingers kneaded his flesh as if she were a purring cat.

Griff stroked the column of her throat and loved how this made her sigh and arch against him. Inexorably, his hand glided lower, running teasingly over her collarbone, and then lower still until one small breast nestled in his palm.

A small whimper awarded him and spurred him on. Passion raced like liquid fire through his veins, burnt away all logic and reason, consumed him, devoured him, made him want to consume
her
.

One of her legs drew up over his thighs, and the next moment his free hand was around her waist, assisting her, moving her so she sat almost astride him, her hips moving deliciously against his. Their tongues tangled in a wild dance while his hand on her waist guided her, showed her how to press against him to elicit the greatest pleasure. She took to this with as much enthusiasm as she took to everything else: her hips wriggled and rolled, and his cock swelled to meet her. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, and then she broke the kiss, flinging her head back on a moan that sounded very loud indeed in the humid silence.

Griff stilled.

He opened his eyes and stared at the girl arched in his arms, her eyes closed in rapture.
And I haven’t even taken off her spectacles
, he thought stupidly.

“Dear God,” he said while the erotic fog that had held him in thrall gradually evaporated.

Miss Stanton blinked. A heartbeat later, her eyes opened fully to gaze at him.

Under her look shame engulfed him.
What am I doing? Despoiling an innocent young woman in Frimsey’s conservatory?
He licked his lips. “Miss Stanton,” he began awkwardly, only to have her interrupt him.

“Under the circumstances I believe you can call me Charlie. Or Carlotta, if you prefer.” She wrinkled her nose. “Not
Charlotte
, though, unless you wish me to do you bodily harm.” Her mouth curved as her gaze roamed his face. “Does this—” She moved her hips slightly. “—constitute reason to shoot you when I see you next?”

Griff groaned. “You must think me a blackguard—”

“Not really.”

“I
am
a blackguard. A damned bastard of the first order.” A man of distinction? Ha! A rotten cad, more likely! Unsuccessfully, he tried to move her off his lap. “You must be so shocked.”

“Not really.” Stubbornly, she held on, clenching her thighs.

Griff groaned again. “
Don’t
, I beg you…” As his body reacted in typical fashion, he momentarily lost his train of thought. Sweat beaded on his forehead. He swallowed hard. “You
ought
to be shocked. I am surprised you’re not lying in a dead swoon at my feet.”

This made her giggle.
Giggle!

“
My lord must take me for a veritable pea-goose.”

He frowned. “This is no laughing matter,” he admonished her. “I nearly did the unspeakable—”

She kissed him, with tongue and everything.

She was a fast learner.

“Hmmm,” she said when she finally lifted her head. “I never knew a person could taste as good as you do.”

“Miss Stanton…”

“Charlie.” She settled more comfortably on his lap, which unfortunately meant she was now straddling him, her pelvis pressed to his, which delighted his deuced cock to no end.

He tried to fight her, but found that she was as obstinate as a mule.

“Not that I have kissed any man other than you.” She thoughtfully pursed her lips. “I found the boys in the village all rather… lacking, if you know what I mean.”

“God!” He closed his eyes and let his head fall back.

The minx took the opportunity to press butterfly kisses onto his throat. And then she actually
licked
over his Adam’s apple.

“Argh!” He jerked against her. “Don’t
do
this! We really shouldn’t—”

She snuggled her face against his shoulder. “Is that your male instrument that I can feel down there?” Again she wriggled her hips in that horrid fashion—probably in case he wondered which ‘down there’ she was referring to.

“It is,” he said in strangled tones.

She nodded. “Just as I thought.” She sounded obscenely happy about it.

“You shouldn’t,” he felt compelled to inform her primly. “It is not seemly. We should go back.” He felt like a drowning man. Drowning in the scent and feeling of her. “
Immediately
!”

She lifted her head. “Must we? My body feels all hot and tingly. Worse than during our drive. You will be so shocked when I inform you that you have the most astonishing effect on my body, my lord.” She grinned. She was, it would seem, hugely enjoying herself.

Minx!

Against his better judgement, Griff grinned back. “The feeling is mutual, I assure you.”

Her grin widened. “Good. For it makes me want to
do
things, and I don’t even know what. I trust, though, that you do?”

She was, Griff decided, beyond the pale. No lady he knew would talk in such a willy-nilly fashion about things that pertained to physical intercourse. Not even his past mistresses had so openly talked about the effects
he
had had on their bodies.

Her body.

Dear God.

“I will
not
ravish you in Frimsey’s conservatory if that is what you are talking about,” he said sternly, trying to wrench back the control of the situation.

“Oh.” Her face fell. Absentmindedly, she stroked his cheek. She was still wearing her gloves.

At the sight of them, Griff’s heart sank.
I am a bastard
, he thought miserably.

Suddenly the impish smile was back on her face, and a dreadful foreboding gripped him.

“What about the Tollham ball? Are you invited? I’m sure you must be, being a viscount and everything. Don’t they have some sort of library with all kinds of interesting nooks and crannies?”

Griff groaned.

Chapter 10

in which our heroine meets a crocodile

Miss Carlotta Stanton to Miss Emma-Louise Brockwin by Two-penny Post

My dear Emma-Lee,

last night’s ball was a rather pleasing affair, even though 1 of the gentlemen upset the punch bowl & ended up with his nice shirt & waistcoat stained a delicate pink. The ladle landed on the head of an old lady, who took it as an attempt on her life & left in a huff. Lady Frimsey was disconsolate.—Do you remember Miss P.’s warnings about Forming Hasty Attachments? It would seem that I have formed such a one (to Lord Ch., if you wonder), though I’d not call it
hasty
precisely. I suspect my regard exceeds even the stage of Warm Affection as I have found to my shock. No, not shock, but [scrawled out]. I feel as if my blood has suddenly turned into tiny little bugs crawling all around my veins. It is rather disconcerting, I confess.

Yrs, C.S.

~*~

Miss Emma-Louise Brockwin to Miss Carlotta Stanton by Two-penny Post, posted the same day

Dear Charlie,

the feeling of bugs crawling through one’s body can also derive from smoking spotted mushrooms. I trust you have done no such thing.—Dearest friend, please do not take this amiss, but are you sure that your regard does not simply stem from your desire to Fix a Problem? You so love solving other people’s troubles, & given the size of this particular problem, you will, of course, find it most to your liking & unlike any other challenge you have faced before. But you know how puzzling you’re finding the peculiarities of Town. So please, please, please exercise caution how you proceed.

Your loving friend, ELB

~*~

Miss Carlotta Stanton to Miss Emma-Louise Brockwin by Two-penny Post, posted the very same day for last delivery

Dear Em,

you will be shocked to hear that the Horses Have Already Bolted & all that. I have
kissed
him! C.

~*~

Miss Emma-Louise Brockwin to Miss Carlotta Stanton by Two-penny Post, posted in the evening of the same day for next morning’s first delivery

At the ball??? Have you taken leave of your senses??? If you do not take care, Charlie, you will be ruined, & then when he decides to abandon you, you will have to shoot him. If I don’t get him first, that is.—Do
not
do anything
Rash
, I beg you, unless you are very, very, VERY certain of the gentleman’s affection!

Your worried friend, E.L.

~*~

Charlie did not tell Isabella about the shocking—in the most pleasurable way imaginable!—events that had taken place in Lord and Lady Frimsey’s conservatory. Given that Isabella was his
sister
, Charlie felt it simply wouldn’t be the thing to discuss Chanderley’s kisses with her.

Besides, when she next met with Isabella for a drive around the Park, she was accompanied by Cousin Caroline. On the whole, it proved to be an ill-starred outing, for Cousin Caroline kept complaining about the unfashionable hour and was most displeased when she saw none of her acquaintances in the Park.

“I for one wouldn’t care for a drive through the Park when everybody else was in it,” Charlie finally said, exasperated. “What a frightful crush that must be!”

Cousin Caroline turned her pale blue eyes on her in reproach. “My dear Charlotte, the purpose of a drive in the Park is to be
seen
. Naturally, you wouldn’t know that.”

“Naturally.” Charlie opened her own eyes very wide in an expression of innocence. “I own there must be something dreadfully wrong with my brain.”

From Isabella’s direction came a smothered giggle. “Then there must be something dreadfully wrong with mine, too,” she said, bestowing a big smile upon Cousin Caroline. “For I simply
hate
the crush in the Park at the fashionable hour.”

Thus being outmanoeuvred, Cousin Caroline fell silent, no doubt seething inwardly. Hopefully, Isabella’s expressed preference for unfashionable hours would deter her from accompanying them in the future.

As Cousin Caroline remained blessedly silent, Charlie rummaged in her reticule and dug out the music album she had mentioned to Isabella on one of their earlier outings. Music, as Emma-Lee had informed Charlie, was generally considered a suitable topic for young ladies and was not likely to shock a gently bred girl like Lady Isabella (unlike boars and other wild beasts). Charlie had decided to follow her friend’s advice, and as she had expected, it turned out to be a sound one: Isabella
loved
music, and she particularly liked playing the fortepiano.

“Here is the song album I promised you.” She put the much-used album with its rubbed corners onto Isabella’s lap.

Delight spread across the other girl’s face. “How very kind of you.” Smiling broadly, she stroked the faded red cover. “A true St. Cuthbert’s artefact! I am so excited.”

“It contains all my favourites,” Charlie said eagerly, leaning forward. “Do you know ‘Waly, Waly’? It’s such a lovely sad song.” Unerringly, she found the right page. “There it is. I hope you can read my hand.”

Isabella peered at the page of handwritten music and quietly started to hum the melody. “Is this correct? How delightful it sounds!” she said after a few bars, glancing up at Charlie.

“Doesn’t it? And isn’t the text of the chorus
most
heart-wrenching?” Charlie started to sing:

“O waly, waly, love is bonnie

A little time when it is new:

But it grows auld, and waxes cauld,

And fades away like morning dew.”

She gave a happy sigh. The beauty of this song never failed to capture her heart. However, she hoped that the words were not a reflection of reality, for she would hate if the affection she felt for Chanderley would fade away like the morning dew.