Scandals of Lustful Ladies: A Historical Regency Romance Collection

by Meghan Sloan

  Hetty stared at her apple, contemplating it as if it might hold the answers to the meaning of life. “I will never be free of him, will I?” she asked quietly. “The court will never grant me a divorce. That man will haunt me forever.”

  “You do not know that,” he said, gazing at her, feeling uneasy. “The court moves slowly, as I said before. Have faith, Hetty. It will happen.”

  She shook her head. “No, I do not think it will,” she said, in a small voice. “I am enough of a realist to know that.” She paused, gazing over the landscape with sad eyes. “If Frank was petitioning for the divorce, and I was the one who had deserted him, carrying on with a lover, then they would quickly grant it. But the fact that he is the one who has done it all, makes a huge difference. The law does not regard a man’s infidelity the same way as it regards a woman’s. There are separate rules for each sex.”

  He was silent for a moment, his heart sinking. She was speaking the truth. The law was very forgiving of a man’s infidelity to his lawfully wedded wife, almost condoning it. A woman was expected to be faithful, though, as so much was at stake through it. If a woman was unfaithful during her marriage, then the question of a child’s rightful paternity could be raised, among other considerations. The law protected the man, but not the woman, in so many ways.

  He briefly thought of Benjamin. He did not know, for sure, that the child was his. Rachel could have slept with another man, either immediately before or after, the one time they had made love. He had discovered later that she was not chaste, in any way.

  He knew that Ben was his, in his heart: the boy looked like him, had his eyes. But it could have been different. Paternity was not easy to establish, in such cases. He had taken her word and did the honourable thing by her. Another man might have cast her aside, telling her that he had no proof that the child was his, and the law would have backed him up.

  Women were vulnerable in this society. Look at what had happened to Hetty.

  But he must believe that the court would grant her divorce. The alternative could not be borne. That he had got so close to finally making her his own, only having to admit that she could never be his.

  He could barely endure the thought.

  “I will go to a convent,” she said suddenly, her face twisted in pain. “If I cannot get divorced, then that is my plan …”

  “Hetty, no,” he said, appalled. “I could not bear it. To think of you locked away in a convent, forever denied to me …”

  She was trembling, gazing at him. “What are you suggesting? Do you think for a moment that I would submit to an unlawful union with you? The same thing as what this Amelie Marchand has done with my husband?” Her eyes glittered dangerously. “If you are suggesting such a thing, then let me tell you now, and you can be away: I will do no such thing.”

  Louis flinched as if she had struck him. “I am not suggesting any such thing,” he whispered. “I would never dishonour you in such a way.” He took a deep breath. “All I am saying is that I cannot bear the thought of you in a convent. We will fight, together, for your divorce. If the court denies it, then we shall appeal. I will wait years for you.”

  She gazed at him, dumbfounded. “You would wait years for me? Even though I might never obtain a divorce and be a free woman?”

  He nodded slowly, his heart aching, with love for her. “I will wait forever, Hetty.”

  She was silent for a moment, gazing out over the hills in the distance. “I cannot believe it,” she whispered. “Why would you sacrifice your life for me on the slim hope that I might one day be free to marry you?”

  “Why do you think?” he said in an anguished whisper. “Can you not see how much you mean to me? I have been trying to show you all this time. I have been trying to win your trust, trying to show you that it is only you, Hetty. It has only ever been you.”

  She looked amazed, her mouth dropping open slightly, as she turned to him. He swore underneath his breath, his heart yearning for her, so much that he could barely contain it.

  He had exposed himself. It was too late, now, to take the words back. Would she jump to her feet and run away? Had he scared her off, once and for all, with his declaration?

  But she didn’t move an inch. She looked like she was rooted to the spot. Their eyes met and held, a magnetic cord pulling between them.

  And then, he was reaching for her, eagerly taking her in his arms, his mouth descending upon her own, for the very first time.

  Her lips were as soft as he had dreamt they would be and so very sweet. He moaned, underneath his breath, pulling her closer. He waited for her to pull away, but she didn’t. Instead, he felt her lips open, beneath his own, blossoming to life as she kissed him back.

  The kiss deepened. He couldn’t help it. His hands caressed her, exploring her curves. The rounded hips, the small waist, the fullness of her breasts. He could not get enough of her. He wanted to gather her up, take her beneath this tree, claim her for his own, once and for all. He was so giddy with desire he could barely breathe.

  He trailed feverish kisses down the curve of her long neck, tasting the sweetness of her skin, as he caressed her breasts, feeling the nipples beneath the fabric of her gown grow hard for him. He tilted her back in his arms, pulling aside the bodice of her gown. Hungrily, his eyes registered the creamy fullness of her breasts, the rosy aureoles, before his lips descended upon one, drawing the nipple deep into his mouth as he suckled her. He heard her low moan, thick with desire, as she arched her back to accommodate him.

  She was trembling, now, her skin mottled with pink. He reached down, seeking her centre, briefly touching her through the gown. She shivered convulsively as he kept caressing her gently, then with firmer, more confident, strokes. He suckled harder, raising his eyes to watch her. Her head had tilted back, and her eyes were closed in ecstasy. He felt the answering throb deep in his loins.

  But suddenly, Della leapt upon them, barking ferociously. Hetty leapt back as if scalded, laughing hysterically as the dog licked her face. He started laughing, too. The moment was well and truly broken.

  “Down, Della!” she commanded, barely able to draw breath. “Down, girl!”

  He leapt to his feet, his heart expanding with love for her. He reached out a hand, pulling her up. Tenderly, he adjusted the bodice of her gown, tucking away those magnificent breasts. She stood as impassive as a doll while he tidied her. She had stopped laughing, now, and gazed up at him, her blue eyes impossibly large.

  Gently, he kissed her forehead, his eyes never leaving hers for a second.

  “Do you believe me, now?” he whispered. “Do you believe me that it has only ever been for you?”

  She sighed deeply. She did not answer, biting her lip.

  He held her hand as they walked back towards the house. They didn’t speak any more than they had when they had started on the walk through the field to the apple tree. But whereas that first walk had been fraught with tension because of Frank Blackmore’s letter, this time it was different. Something had changed between them, forever.

  He still didn’t know if he had finally earnt her trust. He didn’t know if she felt the same way about him as he did about her. But he had felt the leap of her response to him, the way that her flesh had answered his. She desired him that much was obvious. She had felt that same pull of fierce, deep attraction, that he felt for her.

  And it was enough, for the moment.

  He felt like he was in a dream as they entered the house. Luncheon was about to be served. They separated, to wash. Already, he felt the loss of her, wishing her back by his side.

  Sitting across the dining table from her, he could barely eat. Vividly, he replayed their passionate encounter over and over in his mind. The feel of her. The taste of her. The agony, of wanting her, almost more than life itself.

  It was time to take her to Warwick Manor. It was time to finally introduce her to Benjamin. He still had no idea what her reaction to his illegitimate son would be. It was risky. He might lose her forev
er when he had just tentatively claimed her for his own.

  But he could not lie, by omission, to her any longer. He wanted her for his wife, come hell or high water, and she had to know the truth of what his life was. Hopefully, their connection was strong enough now that she would accept the situation.

  They both reached for the pepper shaker, sitting in the middle of the table, at the same time, their hands connecting. She smiled shyly, pulling back, letting him take it. She flushed, looking down into her soup bowl.

  His heart contracted. He had never loved a woman the way that he loved her. And he would make her his wife. He vowed it to himself, trembling with desire, once again.

  Hetty was his. She had always been his. It had just taken an awfully long time for him to get to her. He thought about her desire to join a nunnery. The sheer waste of it. Hetty was made for love. She belonged in his arms, forever.

  He fervently prayed that it would be possible. That they were not destined to never be together because another man had managed to put a ring on her finger before him.

  Chapter 13

  Hetty gazed around the vast foyer of Warwick Manor, trying hard not to show how impressed she was. The ceiling was so high she had to crane her neck to see it properly. It was intricately carved. The floor beneath her feet was white marble.

  Her mother looked as gobsmacked as she felt. “Oh, this is so very grand,” she whispered, almost fearfully. “It makes Hillsworth House look like a doll’s house.”

  The Duke came up to them, smiling. “Welcome to my home,” he said, in a satisfied voice. “I will get the butler to show you to your rooms, where you can rest after the journey.” His eyes lingered on Hetty. “I hope you will find the accommodation to your satisfaction.”

  Hetty shivered, seeing the desire in his eyes. They were almost burning with it. Hastily, she looked away, pretending to be absorbed in contemplation of the house. She tried to ignore the leap of response she felt as her mother thanked him.

  She had been surprised when he had invited them to stay in his home. He had merely said that he was eager to show her Warwick Manor. He mentioned his vast collection of books in his library, and that he could show her the hidden passageways that he had talked about previously. Her parents had been eager to accept his offer on her behalf. Papa had been unable to accompany them, but her mother was here, as chaperone.

  As she studied the three-tiered chandelier, falling dramatically from the ceiling, she couldn’t quite believe that if her divorce came through, and she did agree to marry him, this house might one day be her home. That she would be a duchess, living on a vast estate, in a home built centuries ago.

  She hardly knew how she felt about that possibility, now. Ever since the day that he had kissed her, so passionately, beneath the apple tree. She blushed, thinking about it, the feel of his lips on her own, the way his hands had caressed the most intimate parts of her body. He had suckled one of her breasts, causing such torment within her that she had not known what to do. And then, his hand had touched her, down there. She shuddered, thinking of the sensations that had coursed through her body as he had caressed her …

  The butler arrived, and the Duke excused himself. The next moment, they were following the man up the grand, winding staircase, towards their rooms. But as her eyes swept over the hallway at the top of the stairs, taking in the intricate wood panelling of the walls and the exquisite rose and white Abyssinian hall runner on the floor, she frowned. She must not get overwhelmed by all of this.

  Yes, he was a duke, with an impressive home. And yes, he made her shiver with desire. He claimed that he would wait forever to make her his wife. That he was sincere in his regard for her. But there were still unanswered questions about him. His moodiness, and his haste to leave Hillsworth House in the months that he had been courting her. Things that made her uneasy to fully trust him.

  As they walked down the hallway, she resolved to herself that she would confront him about it, once and for all. It would be easy, so very easy, to get swept away by him, to forget her plan to join a convent. She had to make sure that he was worth it. She must make sure that if she put her life into his hands, that he was worthy of it. She simply could not endure being wronged by another man.

  Her heart lurched. Especially this man. She did not know if she would survive it at all.

  ***

  In her room, as she rested before luncheon, she took out the letter. Frank’s letter. She had brought it with her to peruse again if she felt like it, even though she had read it a hundred times, now, and probably could recite the words verbatim if anyone asked her.

  But the shock of it, the sheer rage, was still the same as the day she had first read it.

  My dear Hetty,

  I trust you are well. I heard that you had returned to your parents’ home.

  I write to you to inform you of my current circumstances. I am in the town of Villefranche-sur-Mer, in the region of Provence, France. A truly beautiful town, a fishing village, on the edge of the sea. It is the hometown of my mistress, Mademoiselle Amelie Marchand. The lady that I have always been in love with, I am sorry to say. I know that this will hurt you, but I must be truthful with you, at long last.

  We have come to Villefranche-sur-Mer as Amelie desires to be close to her family at this time. She is expecting our child and naturally wishes to have her confinement here, amongst loved ones. And it is a chance for us to start afresh without the weight of what has happened between you and I. England is too small a place for scandal, after all.

  It is our intention to settle here. I will not be returning, Hetty, and there is no chance that we will be reconciled. It is Amelie, who I love, and have always loved. With her, I feel that I can truly breathe. We are as two hearts, beating as one, and always shall be.

  I wish the best for you, I truly do. I hope that one day you will find it in your heart to forgive me and understand that I had no choice but to act as I did. I had to follow my heart, come what may.

  Au revoir, my dear. I do not think we will have occasion to meet again in this life.

  Frank

  Her heart lurched, and she suddenly threw the letter on the floor as if it had burst into flames.

  She didn’t know what hurt the most. The fact that Frank had a mistress, the whole time that they were engaged, or the fact that he was so casually dismissive of her. The fact that he and his mistress were starting afresh in France to escape the scandal he had made, while she was left here, licking her wounds, her life in ruins around her.

  But, there was some good in his letter. As the Duke had said, it was proof that she could bring before the court. And her father had looked triumphant, noting that Frank had revealed where he was hiding out. He claimed that it would not take much work to locate his current address now, and then, if and when the court set a date for proceedings, he could be informed.

  Hetty’s eyes filled with tears of frustration. There was still no word from the court. It had been months since the Duke and her father had lodged the application. The silence was growing ominous. Would she ever be free of her husband? Would she ever be able to make him suffer for what he had done to her?

  She suddenly heard footsteps walking down the hallway outside her room. There was the sound of murmuring through the wall. A child’s high laugh quickly suppressed.

  She frowned. What was a child doing in this manor walking the top hallway?

  Quickly, she walked to the door, opening it, and peering down the hallway. But whoever had passed by was gone, now. There wasn’t a sign that anyone had ever been there.

  Her frown deepening, she closed the door. She must have imagined the sound of a child. None of the servants would be walking their children along this section of the house, or even have them in residence. Perhaps she was going just a little crazy.