“Yes, simply out of sorts. ’Tis difficult not exposing my feelings.”
Lalande finished turning down the covers on the bed while Elizabeth sat and removed her boots. “You have missed him. Your unease in company is understandable.”
A strange sound from the wall made them turn and stare at Fitzwilliam, who emerged from a door concealed within the panelling. “I beg your pardon.”
Elizabeth stood and froze in place. Lalande merely curtseyed with a crooked smile and bustled through the dressing room door.
“What has made you so shy of me?” His voice hummed low while he closed the door behind him. “I have never seen you so quiet.”
Releasing the strain of holding herself in such regulation, she rushed into his arms. “I have missed you so. I wanted nothing more than to run to you as Georgiana did, yet I could not.”
His lips pressed against her temple. “I am quite relieved then. I worried you no longer cared.”
“No!” She shook her head and drew back. “I care too much.”
He kissed her hard, his tongue plundering as he pulled her tight against him. Her fingers worked at the knot in his cravat before she attacked the buttons on his topcoat and waistcoat. While she frenziedly worked at his clothes, he unfastened the back of her gown enough to expose her breasts.
Once she liberated him of his coats and cravat, he wrapped her legs around his waist and walked them to the bed, lying her flat on her back. Her skirts were swiftly rucked to her waist as he dropped to his knees.
She had not expected him to come to her at Pemberley. As far as she had known, their affair had ended when he departed Worthstone, so she relished the ability to touch him when he finally moved over her. She slipped her hands under his shirt, caressing the solid plane of his abdomen, before she reached for his fall and unfastened it.
Her eyes rolled back towards the headboard when he joined with her. She gasped and clenched her fingers into his sides. Before, their joining had always stung due to her inexperience, but today, nothing kept her from appreciating every sensation of their coupling. He nearly withdrew his entire length before thrusting harder, making her gasp and clutch the mattress with one hand to brace herself.
“Am I hurting you?”
“God, no.” She had ached for him since he left Worthstone. While their every encounter held a place in her heart, the way he had expressed himself on their last morning was one of her most cherished memories. His impatience to be inside of her again, and his desperation did not offend her. On the contrary, his passion matched her sentiments exactly.
She lifted her hips to meet his pace, each thrust bringing a vocalization from her when he touched that spot deep inside that made her burn even hotter. Meanwhile, he kissed her as though he needed her to survive.
He released her lips, lifted, and shifted her leg over his shoulder, their eyes never leaving the other’s. Lord, how could he go deeper than before? It was all she could do not to close her eyes as that coiling inside began to build to unbearable heights. Her hands grasped his hips and her nails dug into his skin. That delicious heat slowly spread until it engulfed her completely and she cried out, tears leaking from her eyes.
A roar from him signalled his completion, and he carefully removed her leg before he collapsed on top of her. She smoothed his hair back from his face when he propped himself on his elbows, though he dropped his head to nibble at her earlobe. “I could not wait until tonight,” he said against her neck.
A giggle burst from her while she looked down to their dishevelled clothing. “I may have noticed. Are you still wearing your boots?”
“Yes, I am.” His chest shook from laughter. He lifted once more, letting his eyes rove over her face. “You are well? I was a bit rough.”
Her head shook while her fingers traced his cheek. “You were as desperate to be with me as I was to be with you. Do not apologise.” She bit her lip and peered quickly towards the door. “Do you think someone heard me? I was rather loud.”
“No servant has reason to be in the main corridor, and at this time of day, only the valets should be in the servants’ corridors, but yours connects through the dressing room. I daresay the only person who may have heard is Thomas in the adjoining room.” He gestured with his head towards the door. “Mrs. Reynolds did seem puzzled when I requested her to change you to these rooms. Thomas has occupied the same guest room since I was a child. I would have preferred more privacy, but I could not give you this room without suspicion unless I gave Thomas the adjoining bedchamber.”
“I understand. I assume you preferred this bedchamber due to the passage?”
“Yes, there are hidden passages and stairways between certain rooms. Some are not even known to Mrs. Reynolds.” He kissed her lips more than once. “We have two hours before dinner. How long do you need to prepare?”
“If Lalande readies a bath, an hour.”
“May I stay until then?”
She grasped the edge of his lawn shirt and drew it over his head. “I would be sad if you did not.” His request fulfilled her every wish. How could she deny him when it was all she desired as well?
After dinner, the ladies departed to the withdrawing room while Fitzwilliam and Thomas adjourned to the study. Fitzwilliam poured his cousin a drink and had no sooner sat in his chair than Thomas grinned. “I do hope you and Elizabeth had a satisfactory reunion.”
Fitzwilliam sputtered and choked. “Must you be so crass?” he asked when he regained his breath.
His cousin sniffed disdainfully. “I am by no means crass. I simply see no reason to prevaricate. Your relationship with Elizabeth pleases me. She deserves to find happiness as I find mine.”
His free hand clenched, and the fingers of the opposite whitened against the crystal. “Happiness? You call loving someone you cannot be with happiness? Your past heart episodes allow for you to keep your valet—I believe Colin is his name—close without suspicion. After all, he would be required immediately if you became severely ill as you did before. I cannot uproot myself and reside at Worthstone without inciting talk.”
Thomas tilted his glass a little to the side with his head. “That is true, though you are welcome to visit at your leisure. Our houses have always been close. No reason exists that you and Elizabeth cannot have a long relationship and spend time together often.” He took a sip of his brandy and tugged at the waist of his topcoat. “For example, I could allow Elizabeth, accompanied by her maid, a holiday in the Lakes next summer. You could always have business in London or even that dreadful estate your father inherited in Ireland as far as Georgiana or others are concerned.”
Fitzwilliam took a sizeable gulp of his brandy and bared his teeth when he swallowed. His cousin’s officiousness was off-putting. “We shall see what the summer holds. Autumn is barely upon us, and you are already considering next year.”
“Nevertheless, think on it. Speak of it with Elizabeth.”
At a knock on the door, they both started.
“Come,” called Fitzwilliam. When Elizabeth entered, the gentlemen stood.
“I know I interrupt your brandy, but Georgiana and I have planned a birthday surprise for you, Fitzwilliam. Will you join us in the music room?”
Thomas’s lips were slightly upturned on the ends. Fitzwilliam furrowed his eyebrows. Did his cousin know what they had planned?
He followed Elizabeth, having a difficult time tearing his eyes from the curve of her neck and that spot just below her ear. He adored the noise she made in the back of her throat when he gently suckled there. He cleared his throat and redirected his attention to his feet, taking a deep breath to keep himself under regulation lest he embarrass himself before his young sister.
They entered the music room, and he came to an abrupt halt at the sight before him. Elizabeth indicated a portrait was to be painted of her, but that was . . . “Georgiana?”
“Is it not wonderful? Lizzy had planned to have her own portrait made, but at the last minute, requested the artist pain
t me in her stead. Miss Geddes was ever so kind and even suggested including Evie.” She glanced quickly at Elizabeth. “Do you like it?”
He stepped closer and studied the work, the serene expression on his sister’s face, the way Evie appeared as if she might jump from Georgiana’s arms at any moment, and the gentle detailing of her gown and hair. “I think it is wonderful. We shall have to think of a place to display it.”
“Perhaps in the gallery upstairs next to that of you and your parents,” said Thomas.
Fitzwilliam’s hands gripped at his sides before he shook himself and took Elizabeth’s, kissing her cheek. “’Tis a brilliant gift. Thank you.” He hugged Georgiana. “You appear so grown up. Father would be very proud.” Lastly, he nodded to Thomas. “Thank you.”
His cousin held up his free hand. “Though I would love to take credit, the idea was Elizabeth’s.”
Before he could thank her, Elizabeth held her hands towards his sister. “Georgiana also has several pieces she wishes to play for you. We have also practised a duet for tonight, so pray, sit and let Georgiana begin.”
The first strains of a sonata filled the room while Fitzwilliam continued to stare at the portrait, dumbfounded. His amazement was such, he found it difficult to look elsewhere, but he did eventually tear his attention away from the painting to Georgiana. Elizabeth sat by his sister’s side, poised to turn the pages, glowing and joyful. As the music continued, Fitzwilliam lost himself while he watched the two ladies who owned his heart perform. With Thomas out of his line of sight, he managed to briefly forget Elizabeth was wed to another and not his wife; however, his fantasy came to a swift halt when Thomas clapped at the end of their performance, startling him from his reverie.
His chest heavy, he joined Thomas’s applause. He hated wishing his cousin away so easily, but he could not help desiring Elizabeth was his, could he? However wrong his love for her, he could not walk away. Yes, it was selfish, but he would not only break his heart if he ended the affair, he would also break Elizabeth’s. Could he still be considered selfish if he considered her feelings as well?
Elizabeth paced her bedchamber while Lalande gathered her evening gown and jewels. Fitzwilliam’s wide eyes and expression when he saw Georgiana’s portrait had been all that she had hoped. The evening had been lovely.
Now she awaited him to step through that passage, yet he had not come. Surely a man did not take as long to ready for the night as a woman? She paced before the fireplace. “Why has he not come?”
“Let me hang Madame’s gowns, and I shall check.”
She wrung her hands while she continued her back and forth. “Thank you.” Nearly twenty minutes passed while she continued to wear a faded line in the carpet, only she had taken to biting her thumbnail rather than wringing her hands.
A soft knock made her stop, and the door cracked. “Your Grace, if you will come.” Lalande stood in the slightly opened door.
Without question, she hurried into the corridor where Fitzwilliam’s valet stood, a candle in his grasp and his eyes on the floor. The small flame did not do much to illuminate their path as he led them through the walls of the house, but it did allow them to find their way. They turned once and travelled up a set of stairs and back down before he slid open a door at the end of the passage. “Ma’am.”
She stepped through into a dark room where a fire burned merrily in the grate. At first glance, the bedchamber appeared empty, but when she took another step, she shivered at a cool breeze and turned. That was when she saw him, standing in an open balcony door, his arms awkwardly clasped behind his back.
As she approached, she stepped to his back and slid her arms around his chest, hugging him from behind. “What troubles you?”
“Vain wishes and circumstances I cannot change.”
Her stomach clenched at his words as well as his tone. “My marriage?”
A heaving sigh moved his chest. He released his hands and covered her arms with his. “When Georgiana played, I found it surprisingly easy to pretend you were my wife and we enjoyed a perfect evening at home. Thomas was not in my line of vision to ruin the dream. Reality intruded painfully when Georgiana completed her performance.”
Her heart squeezed so, and she bestowed a kiss to the middle of his back. “I do not know how to give you up, but I will if I must. I love you too much to prevent you from finding your own future.”
He turned in her arms and leaned so his forehead pressed to hers. “I should. I should let you go, but I cannot. I cannot rip my own still-beating heart from my chest. You are my undoing. I cannot imagine my life without you.”
Her hands cradled his cheeks. “By law, I may be his, but my heart and my body belong to you. I am yours and only yours.”
His lips cradled hers for a moment. “I miss you so when we are apart.”
She shuddered and blinked back the sting of tears. “I long for you more than I ever thought possible, but somehow, arranging Georgiana’s portrait for your gift helped.”
He lifted her into his arms and sat on the bed with her straddling him. One of his fingers caressed a place under her ear. “As you walked to the music room, I stared at this spot.”
“You did?” Her fingers stroked the lines of his chest through his dressing gown.
“You make this noise when I kiss you here,” he continued. “I thought about how much I would love to mark you.” His breath came out ragged while he blinked rapidly.
Mark her? He would think her terribly naïve. “How do you mean?”
“By suckling until it bruises.” His fingers clenched her hips as his hardness began to press insistently between her legs, making her shift closer.
“Why do you not?” She sounded all hoarse and breathy. Why did such an idea appeal to her?
His hand found her neck again, fingering that spot as she began to tremble. “What would Georgiana say? What would anyone who saw you think?”
Her fingers parted his dressing gown, pushing the silk from his shoulders. “No one will know it was you.” She bestowed a kiss to the hollow of his throat. “I am not a maiden who must withstand the scrutiny of her parents or those at a ball. You can mark me as much as you wish, though I would beg you not render me incapable of leaving my room.” She let one side of her lips quirk upwards.
He grasped her hips and pressed her down harder on his erection, causing her to moan. She untied her own dressing gown and tossed it to the side so she wore not a stitch of clothing. His lips found her shoulder, and she pressed her cheek to his. “Where do you want to mark first?”
His nose nuzzled under her ear before he latched on to the sensitive flesh and making the ache between her legs only grow in intensity. She lightly scratched her fingernails over his chest and nipples making him groan and pull harder at her neck.
She may not be his, but she would give him everything in her power that he could possess. Given their situation, it was the least she could do.
Four days later, Elizabeth sat across from her husband as they began their return to Worthstone. With every hoof strike, they drew farther and farther from the part of her soul that remained at Pemberley while she did no more than clutch her reticule tightly in her grasp.
The night prior, Fitzwilliam had given her a stack of letters she now carried in that small bag. When she missed him, she was to read one of his love letters. She left a similar bundle with him to pass those moments when their separation became unbearable.
Thomas laughed and drew her attention. “You created quite a stir below stairs with that mark under your ear,” he said, his grin never flagging.
She startled and lifted her eyebrows. “I beg your pardon?”
“Your maid did an admirable job of placing that tiny curl over the bruise, yet one of the footmen noticed it while serving you dinner the first evening you bore it. The butler and footmen were surprised a man of my advanced years had such passions.” He continued to laugh, his shoulders shaking. “Colin found the gossip excessively diverting.”
&
nbsp; “I am glad he found it so amusing. I suppose it gives him leave to do the same to you, although in society, I suppose that would make me a wanton.”
Thomas’s laughter died, and he clasped his hands in his lap. “I find that term distasteful, to say the least. Men can find fulfilment with women as they wish, yet women are to suppress their own desires. I hope Fitzwilliam does not expect such behaviour from you. If he does, I shall set him straight.”
A bark of amusement rang through the carriage. “That would be an awkward conversation, do you not think? My husband instructing my lover that he should satisfy me.”
“Only if he believes that antiquated nonsense, though I cannot imagine George ever teaching him to be so cold.”
Elizabeth concentrated wholeheartedly at adjusting her gloves while she was certain her glare could have scorched her spencer. “You need not worry on my account. I would also appreciate your lack of attention when it comes to my intimate encounters with Fitzwilliam. Your interference would not be taken well.”
“He is a kind lover, then?”
She huffed and brought her eyes to his. “Is Colin?” A slight flare of his nostrils was his only reaction to her challenge.
“Exceedingly.”
“And I am exceedingly uncomfortable with this conversation, yet if you must know, I have no complaints. He is attentive. Does that satisfy you?” She looked out of the window at the passing countryside.
“I only wish for your happiness.”
Her head snapped back. “You continue to say such ridiculous things. If you had truly wished me content, you would have left me where you found me—with my family in Hertfordshire.”
“You would have never met Fitzwilliam.”
“Maybe, maybe not, but I prefer to believe he would have found me at the proper time, and we would have married without defying the conventions of society and God to be together.” She laced her fingers to push her gloves back between her fingers. “Are we done?”
“Yes,” he said, nodding. “Forgive me. My interference was kindly meant.”
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