The Demure Debutante - a Regency Novella (8 page)

When the vicar announced them as husband and wife, Edward kissed his bride, swept her into his arms, and carried her to the carriage outside. Their well-wishers, though sparse in number, howled cheers of exaltation for the new couple. After Edward placed her in the carriage, Arthur went to his sister's side.

“You look beautiful, Willow,” Arthur praised her.

“That sounds awfully genuine, coming from you.”

“Well, it's true. Edward is a lucky man... and you're a lucky woman.”

“We're a lucky couple,” she agreed. “I'm happy to have found a man such as him.” Willow pulled a flower from her bouquet and slipped it into the pocket of his greatcoat. “You'll visit us in London, won't you?”

“Of course.” The carriage was about to begin its voyage, so he took a step backward.

“I daresay
you'll
be next!” When she saw the confusion on her brother's face, she quickly added, “The next to be
married
, I mean! You'll find your happiness soon enough. I can feel it!”

“Oh, so you fancy yourself a seer now?”

“I do!” Willow exclaimed. Emilia Harcourt was standing a few feet behind Arthur. Was Willow wrong to think he had a
tendre
for the girl? He was, after all, terribly overprotective of her.

“Well, I'm in no hurry to get married,” Arthur said. “As soon as there is someone in my life who is worth marrying, you will be the first to know.”

“Are you sure there isn't anyone
now
?” Willow asked. Edward, who was sitting in the carriage beside her, reached for his new bride's hand.

“Of course not. There is no one worth marrying, I can assure you,” Arthur said. He tapped on the side of the carriage, signaling to the driver that it was time for the landau to depart. “Have a safe voyage, Mr. and Mrs. Harcourt! I will call on you as soon as I can!”

Little did he know, Emilia was standing directly behind him.

And he had crushed her heart.

* * *

As he stared at his wife in the candlelight, Edward could feel his body stiffen. More specifically, he could feel a particular portion of his body getting stiff. Willow was standing at the foot of the bed, clad only in her nightrail, and the candlelight put the outline of her body on display. In a few short minutes, she would be removing her clothes, and that fact caused his forehead to erupt with beads of perspiration.

What if I'm a terrible lover? What if I disappoint her?
As the time of consummation drew near, his fears became more and more prevalent.

“You look so handsome,” Willow said.

“I-I-I do?”

“Yes. And you're lucky I'm not on the bed with you right now, or you would receive your obligatory pinch.” She grinned at him. “Now... remove your shirt.”

“I-I...” Edward had a lump in his throat, and no matter how many times he swallowed, it wouldn't go away. He was already down to his shirtsleeves and breeches. He had never been with a woman, nor had he been naked in front of a woman, nor had he seen a woman's naked body. He felt as if his entire body was petrified with anticipation and trepidation.

“Your shirt, please.” Willow held out her hand. “I need it.”

As smoothly as he could, Edward whisked his shirt over his head and tossed it at her. When the shirt was off, he lay on the bed with his hands clasped behind his head. Edward was quite skinny, but she was surprised by the muscle definition in his stomach.

“I'm going to remove my nightrail now,” she warned him. “Are you prepared?”

“Fully pr-pre-prepared,” he stammered. His vision was fuzzy, every breath was strained, and his heart was near to exploding. If she didn't remove her clothes soon, the anticipation would be the death of him.

Willow peeled up the nightrail, revealing her legs and thighs. She spun in a circle, giving him a glimpse of all angles. With her back to him, she pulled the gown to her waist. His eyes were anchored to her naked behind, and when she turned around, he felt his loins lurch. Willow tugged the nightrail until it was over her head, then she tossed it to her feet. She was completely naked, exposed to him, and his eyes drank in every inch of her body.

Willow leapt onto the bed and crawled on top of him. She laid her bare chest against him and covered his mouth with a kiss. As their tongues entwined, Willow fumbled with his breeches. Taking charge of the situation, she tore them off, as well as his unmentionables. When she finished undressing him, she sat up and soaked in the sight of his naked body.

“My husband,” she whispered. “It feels so wonderful to call you mine.”

“And I can hardly believe you're my wife,” Edward said. “You're beautiful. Every inch of you is beautiful, Willow. You take my breath away.”

Willow longed to have him touch her, to have his lips on every inch of her body, but she could sense his need for guidance. She seized Edward's hand and slipped it between her legs. As soon as his hand made contact with her womanhood, he moaned, so she silenced him with a kiss. With her hand on his, Willow guided his finger to the appropriate spot. In no time at all,
she
was the one who was moaning. She ground against his hand as he dipped a finger inside her.

Her body rocked and trembled so violently, Edward didn't quite know what to make of it. As he withdrew his hand, he whispered, “Are you alright?”

“
More
than alright,” she assured him, then she reached around to pinch his naked bottom. “And
that
is for your recent stutters!”

“I can't help myself.” Edward cupped her cheek in the palm of his hand and stroked her cheekbone with his thumb. “You make me nervous.”

“There's no reason to be nervous.” Willow took his arm and cradled it to her chest, as tightly as she could. “It will be perfect, I promise.”

All of a sudden, Willow sat up and mounted him. As she straddled his body, she ran her hands along his chest. Her eyelashes fluttered as she hovered above his manhood.
This is it,
her mind whispered.
The love of my life will be inside me. This very moment is the best moment of my life.

When he entered her, Willow moaned. She rocked against him, slowly at first, then savagely. As their bodies merged, Willow leaned down and covered his face with kisses. She clutched his hair, he suckled her neck, and she exploded with a wail of pure pleasure.

Willow had been right about one thing.

It was perfect.

Chapter Eleven

Each time she replayed them in her head, Arthur's words had a torturous effect on her.

There is no one worth marrying.

There is no one worth marrying, I can assure you.

Ever since the wedding, Emilia had locked herself in her bedchamber. She didn't care to see anyone, especially not Arthur. It was supposed to be a felicitous day, and yet her pillow was saturated with tears. She was happy for her brother, to be sure, but her own heart was surging with pain. The more she cried, the more she was aware of her life's obvious and agonizing truths.

She was falling in love with Arthur.

But she would never be with him.

Emilia wished she had never met him. She wished he would disappear from her life, that she would never have to see his face again. Soon enough, she would have her wish—she and her mother were leaving Sanborne Hall in two days. If she returned to London, Emilia was sure her heart would be free again. She tried to convince herself she wouldn't miss his puppy dog eyes, his warm smiles, his bountiful charm. He wasn't worth the thoughts she was sparing on him!

“I
hate
him!” she bellowed into her pillow, but saying the words did not make them true. “I just want him to... to... go away!”

Mr. Fibbles must have sensed her sorrow, because he leapt on the bed and settled his furry body on her chest. However, the cat's presence seemed to magnify her sadness. As she stroked the tabby's tawny fur, tears spilled down her cheeks. “Why did he have to be so perfect? Why couldn't he have one flaw I could harp on?!” Arthur's forehead scar came to mind, but it could hardly be considered a flaw when it only enhanced his appearance. “Why did he have to make me want him?!”

All of a sudden, she heard a tap on her window. It surprised her as much as Mr. Fibbles, who raised his tail and unleashed a terrible yowl. When Emilia saw Brittley's face in the window, the hairs on her nape went rigid.

“Mr. Christian?!”

“
Let me in
!” she could hear him calling on the other side of the window. “Emilia, please!”

Emilia's gaze went to her desk, where she kept Brittley's letter in a drawer. The scandalous missive had been on her mind ever since she had received it, and while she knew it was a terrible idea to let him enter her bedroom, her current mood drowned out her judgment. As soon as she opened her window, Brittley slipped through the frame and swaggered into her room as if he belonged there.

“Good evening, Emilia. You're in good spirits, I hope?” When Brittley saw her tear-soaked cheeks and red-rimmed eyes, he added, “Well... it's quite obvious that you're
not
. What's troubling you?”

“Nothing.”

Brittley sat on the end of her bed. Mr. Fibbles tried to approach him, but Brittley wasn't a fan of cats, so he scooped him up and dropped him to the floor. “How was the wedding? Was it everything Wilomena hoped it would be?”

“It was a beautiful wedding.”

“I see. So what's the reason for your tears?”

“Tears?” Emilia swiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. “I don't know what you're talking about, Mr. Christian.”

“So you say. But it's obvious you've been crying, girl.” Brittley gently patted his leg. “Would you like to sit on my lap? I am sure I could significantly improve your mood.”

“You shouldn't say things like that. In fact, you shouldn't be here at all! If Arthur knew--”

“Arthur...” Brittley scoffed the name. “He's such a spoilsport. I have nothing to fear from Arthur Rochefort. He's really just a weak little man... all bravado and nothing to back it up!”

“I-I don't even know why I let you in. I think you should go.”

Brittley crossed his arms. “I'm not leaving.”

“Please.
Please
. I want you to go!”

“I don't think you do.”

Emilia opened her mouth to reply, but it seemed they were at a standstill. Brittley didn't seem like the sort of man who would back down very easily. Now that he was inside her room, she had no idea how to dispose of him.

“Have you ever been kissed before?” Brittley asked.

“I...”

“Your hesitation tells me you haven't.” He lay on her bed and propped an arm behind his head, as if he intended to stay for quite some time. “You can trust me, Emilia. Tell me the truth.”

“I... haven't,” she confessed.

“And how old are you? Eighteen? How tragic. You should have had your first kiss by now,” Brittley said. “But your first kiss should be from a
man
, not some young lad who's still wet behind the ears.”

“Well, Mr. Christian...” Emilia could feel her heart fluttering, like a butterfly learning how to fly. In light of her epiphanies about Arthur, she felt even more inclined to flirt with Brittley. “
You
seem like a man with experience.”

“Indeed I am.” He held out his arms. “Come. Join me on the bed.”

Emilia gasped. “I will not! I cannot believe you would even suggest such a thing!” Emilia looked down at Mr. Fibbles, whose glowing eyes were peering at her from beneath the bed. For some reason, those yellow eyes seemed ominous.

“Then I shall come to you!” Brittley rose from the bed and went to Emilia's side. He slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her toward him, crushing her against his chest. “Do you want to kiss me, Emilia?”

She pushed on his chest, but her struggle was feeble. “No.”

“Don't lie to me, Emilia. I
know
you want to kiss me.” He was so close to her, his whispered words fluttered a tendril of her hair. “Will you let me kiss you?”

“No.”

“No? Are you sure about that?” While his right arm encompassed her waist, he stroked her cheek with his left hand. “I see the way you look at me. It's undeniable.”

Emilia closed her eyes and wished, for a single moment, that it was Arthur saying these things to her. She tried to imagine how she would feel, how her heart would be soaring. But it was Brittley.
Why did it have to be Brittley?!

She wanted to preserve her lips for Arthur, but she knew she was foolish for wanting such a thing. It wasn't as if Arthur would ever want to kiss her.

And Brittley could be very persuasive.

“V-very well,” she agreed. “You may kiss me... if you really want to.”

Brittley did not hesitate. He mashed his mouth against hers, claiming her lips. He suckled her bottom lip, tasted her tongue, and he couldn't stop his hands from wandering to her bottom. He gripped her rear end and lifted her off her feet, ignoring the fact that she was squealing and battering his head.

Emilia twisted her face away and yelled, “Brittley! Let go!”

She had turned her head, so he kissed her neck instead. “Come away with me...” he begged her. “Let me take you away from here.”

“No!” She swatted his head with the palm of her hand, but nothing seemed to deter him. “Let go of me! I'm
very
serious!”

“Stop denying your attraction to me. It will only slow us down.” As he held her aloft, Brittley flicked her earlobe with his tongue. “The sooner I can have you naked in my arms, the--”

“I'll scream!” Emilia threatened him. “I'll call for Arthur!”

“And what will you tell him, that you let me into your room? He'll think you're some sort of lightskirt.”

“That would be better than losing my honor to the likes of you!” Emilia mashed her elbow into his shoulder a few times, but that only made him hold on tighter. “ARTHUR!”

He clapped a hand over Emilia's mouth. “Quiet!”

“Mmmmfer!! Mmferrr!” She kept trying to cry out for Arthur, despite his silencing hand. Brittley tossed her over his shoulder and carried her to the window, which meant he had to uncover her mouth. So she screamed again, “HELP!”