Found and Bound - A Victorian Romance Novella (The Victorian Arrangement Series Book 2)

by R. G. Winter

  He jerked his head toward Winston and Clare sitting on a low bench, their backs deliberately turned toward them. “It seems your brother is sympathetic to us.”

  “As I am to him.” Her fingers danced across his chest and she leaned in for a longer kiss. Their lips met and parted. His tongue found hers and teased it into a slow and delicious dance that made her knees weak and her body quake.

  The kiss ended and she leaned back, a movement that served to press her lower body closer to his. An immediate throb of desire filled her and she had to fight to clear her senses.

  “You should not be here.”

  “I know, but I cannot stay away from you it seems.”

  “Nor I you. You risk your reputation.”

  His fingers ran along her cheek. “And yours. I wonder if you will forgive me for that?”

  “I have no care for it. My reputation I mean, not…” befuddled by his touch all she could do was cling to him again. His shoulders met her fingers and she lay her cheek against his chest. The steady beat of his heartbeat below her cheek made her feel reassured and yet afraid.

  This was dangerous, and she had given her word. The only option for them now was to run away together, and to do that would cast her family into a position that she knew they would find untenable.

  The whole crisis of the situation was that she could not hurt her family again but marrying Reginald would serve no purpose but to cause her own heart grave harm.

  “I do nto know what to do Jonathan. I am so torn.”

  The words came out on a small wail.

  His fingers went to her chin. He tilted her head back and peered into her eyes. “Do you still love me as you once did Madelaine?”

  “I love you more.” The words were fierce.

  He whispered, “I’m glad. I thought perhaps you must hate me after the way I stood aside and let them take you from me.”

  She shook her head. “You had no choice. I am not…oh bother! I am my parent’s child and ward and they had every legal right to take me. You could not stand against that. But…but that contract is binding as well, and so Reginald will never allow it to be broken. He cannot, none of them can without causing great scandal and harm.”

  Her sigh lifted her breasts and caused them to rub against his chest in a most delicious way. Her lower body responded with a liquid heat and wetness that made her feel both brazen and frightened.

  “I could tell them, about our lying together.”

  His hand stroked her hair. “No, not yet. Let us see if there is another way. Perhaps there might be.”

  She did not know how there could be. “I cannot marry him. If I do we shall all be so unhappy. I will…I will carry on a rather shameless affair with you!”

  His chuckle was rich and warm. His aftershave wafted to her nose and she snuggled closer again, her fingers clutching at his coat in an attempt to get as close to him as possible. She knew that there was but one way to get as close to him as she wanted to be.

  She wanted that. She wanted to be in his bed and arms, her limbs tangled with his and his hard manhood deep inside her body in that joining that brought them as closely to each other as was humanly possible.

  “I imagine that would cause quite the scandal too!”

  Lights flickered in the windows. Victoria was readying for bed then. Jonathan looked up, a scowl on his face. “I must go now. I do not want to, and I do not want to go alone either.”

  “I know.” Her unhappiness reached a peak she had never imagined possible. “Oh I know!”

  Winston stood, his hand going out to help Clare to her feet. Jonathan slid around a corner and vanished into a pool of shadows. Tears burned Madelaine’s eyes. None of them spoke as they re-entered the house. Winston bade them a goodnight, saying he was headed for his club.

  Clare and Madelaine continued onward toward their own rooms. Clare asked, “Might I see you for a moment?”

  Madelaine held open her door and they went in. They took a seat on the chaise and Clare looked down at her fingers. “What was it like?”

  Madelaine, confused, asked, “Seeing him?”

  Clare gave a quick shake of her head. Her cheeks burned. “No. I mean, running away. What was it like?”

  Clare took a breath. Her eyes searched Clare’s face. “It was wonderful.”

  Clare’s lips buttoned then parted. Her breasts heaved below her gown. “What do you mean? Weren’t you afraid?”

  Madelaine shook her head, “No, not at all. All I felt was…excited. Maybe relieved. I didn’t think of the danger.”

  Clare leaned forward, “But surely there was danger!”

  Madelaine nodded, “Yes and I am very fortunate that I did nto come to harm. Are you and Winston considering running away?”

  Clare wrung her hands. “I would not mind, not the way he would I think. You see, we live very simply. We make do. We have our station, of course, but in truth it means little to those who know us because…because if it was not for my hunting, and Father’s, and the fact that we have a wide river filled with many fish, and a very large garden, we would not eat well at all.

  “We do not have the money for so many things that so many, Winston himself, take for granted. I would not mind being without those things but I am sure that he would. He’s used to the finer things—and I am afraid that he would miss them, and blame me for the lack of them.”

  Madelaine considered that, “You’re afraid he would resent you?”

  “How could he not?” Clare’s face fell further.

  Madelaine wished she could say that that was not true but she had experienced what life outside wealth and privilege was like, and she knew that it would not suit everyone.

  Winston was a good man but he had been raised to accept his place in their world, and he had been taught to run the businesses that sustained their lifestyle.

  Would he be able to leave that behind and if he did what kind of life would he lead? Winston was not Liam or Jonathan, he was not made to work hard with his body. He was athletic, yes, and good at sport hunting but what would happen if he actually had to, like Clare did, hunt down food for the table.

  He’d likely not be very good at it and then there would be resentment, on his side and aimed at Clare.

  Madelaine patted Clare’s hand. “Listen, Mama and Papa will be so pleased by my marrying Reginald they won’t give a fig what Winston does…”

  “Oh you’re not, are you? You can’t!”

  Madelaine let her eyes drop. “I know. I just don’t know a way out of the whole situation.”

  “Winston’s meeting with him you know. He likes him so! Besides I think he is hoping that your Jonathan can give him some pointers on how to live outside the life he knows so well.”

  Madelaine, curious, asked, “Where would you go if you married against my parent’s wishes?”

  “To my family. Oh they’ll be angry, yes, but they won’t turn us away. They are a loving bunch, if slightly…” Clare’s shoulders shrugged up and down. “My family is so different from yours!”

  Hoping to distract herself and Clare too Madelaine asked, “What are they like?”

  Clare smiled. “Oh Mama is sweet and kind and wonderful. She reads everything she can get her fingers on. She can milk a cow, and does when we are unable to afford servants, which is at least part of the year.

  “Father is tall and funny. He’s got a bad back that keeps him from being able to do much quite a lot of time but eh can and does still hunt. He loves the outdoors so when his back is plaguing him he insistes on his bed being right against the windows.”

  She giggled. “Once, when a right fierce storm popped up from nowhere and all of us girls were away taking tea at the pastor’s home with his wife Papa nearly drowned from the amount of rain coming in that window and when we got home we thought he’d be in a terrible temper but instead he had made little paper boats from the pages of a book and was attempting to float them.”

  Her hands lifted, “Oh I suppose we sound quite mad!
It isn’t that. It’s that…well…we can’t truly befriend most of the people in the village. We have just enough nobility to be above them, you see. And we can’t really befriend the gentry in the nearby lands because we’ve not the money to entertain them nor be entertained by them.”

  Madelaine patted her shoulder, “I see.” She did.

  Clare twisted her hands. “One of my sisters wants to be a governess. She doesn’t want to marry and she said our lives have given her the unique insight into what governesses must feel as they are above the other household servants but below the people they work for. I pity her, because I know that that might very well be what she has to do. The chances of any of us marrying well are so slim.

  “We have little to offer to a man who has much of his own, and can’t marry men who could be considered below our status. So we have no choices.”

  Madelaine wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “You have Winston.”

  “Yes but what happens if your parents do allow us to wed and then he finds my family far too burdensome? That bothers me too, and…oh I don’t know! It’s all so complicated and confusing! I imagine you feel the same.”

  “I do.” Her spirits sank again.

  The maid tapped at the door then stepped inside. “Are you ready for me to help the two of you get to bed?”

  Clare stood, “Oh, we are likely keeping you from your own bed. By all means please help Miss de Winter first. I can get most of the way ready but I can’t reach many of the buttons on this gown.”

  She headed for the door. Madelaine stood as well. The gown was too cumbersome to remove without help and she was grateful to take it. Once she was out of the gown, the petticoats and corset she was able to breathe freely again but she was far from sleepy.

  She put on a dressing gown and paced the floors after the maid left to assist Clare. Her thoughts were a whirling jumble.

  What was she going to do ?

  She did love Jonathan and the idea of marrying Reginald, while not utterly repugnant, was definitely not something she wanted to do.

  He was a food man, and a kind one. She didn’t want to harm his feelings—but the truth was she was fairly certain that he had none for her anyway.

  He never kissed her. He made no advances toward her at all, in fact.

  Mostly he was distant and while kind he was also hardly interested in even spending much time with her.

  He seemed as miserable as she did, which made her wonder why he had even bothered asking for her hand in the first place.

  That question dogged her as she lay down and tried to find sleep. Why had he asked her? He had not known her, not at all. In fact, as far as she knew, he had never ever seen her.

  She sat upright, her eyes widening.

  Could Reginald be one of those men who sought to marry so that they could escape the whispers about their true nature?

  She forced herself to lay back down but she could not force the thought away.

  It was possible. He would not be the only or first man—or woman for that matter—who married as a part of a larger plan to escape the eyes of society so that they could carry on affairs with people of the same sex.

  Was Reginald a man of that sort?

  It would not shock her, she supposed. It would also explain away much of the questions she was unable to answer, like why had he suddenly appeared in their lives and asked for hand before Season had even started.

  He had not seen her or met her before that. He had had to have decided to ask, but why? There were so many other young woman out there with far wealthier parents and far better connections. Young women who were also quite beautiful.

  Madelaine knew she was beautiful enough—but she was not the blonde, icy, and composed beauty so highly prized at the moment. Victoria was that kind of beauty, and so were dozens or even more, other young women all coming out that Season!

  It had to be that Reginald was…she didn’t know the word to describe such a person. There were whispers of it, of course. She had heard those whispers at a young age and there were whispers that a girl she had been friends with a few years before had wed a man such as that.

  But if that was so would it be such a tragedy?

  Ig Reginald simply wanted to wed her so that he could carry on his rather unnatural affairs would he care if she carried on one of her own?

  Her hopeful thoughts crashed down.

  That was the most unfair thing!

  To ask Jonathan to spend his life unwed and alone, waiting for whatever stolen time they could find was wrong, and she could not do it. Would not do it.

  There had to be another solution, but she could not see one.

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  About

  R.G. Winter is a throwback romantic dreamer with some street-smart wisdom gleaned from years of observation and diverse living environments. She lives within view of a developed downtown skyline, but picks and chooses the times she engages in highly populated activities. Balanced between rural and the city, R.G. Winter shares daily life with her husband and soul mate and their passion for social justice.