by Golden Angel
“Congratulations,” he murmured before he turned, throwing his last few words over his shoulder. “And good luck.”
A frisson of premonition crawled up Rex’s spine like a shiver sinking deep into his bones. Luck, eh? For some reason, he thought he might need it.
Mary
“Mary is getting married, Mary is getting married,” Arabella chanted under her breath, turning the sentence into a silly song that made Mary giggle despite her nerves. Arabella carefully finished weaving the strand of pearls through Mary’s curls, something she had insisted on doing herself.
“You look beautiful,” Josie gushed, coming to stand behind Mary and peer over her shoulder into the mirror. “A little pale but beautiful.”
“You should have stopped talking after the first sentence.” Lily nudged Josie out of the way and leaned down to kiss Mary’s cheek. “Besides, brides are supposed to be pale, are they not?”
“Likely frightened of the wedding night.” Josie bobbed around to Mary’s other side, Arabella watching her with amusement. “Are you frightened of tonight, Mary?”
Of course, she would have to ask that. Groaning, Mary shook her head, ignoring the heat that flared in her cheeks. Well, at least she was no longer so pale. The ivory dress with its gold edging made her skin appear even creamier than usual, and she could see some of the red in her hair glinting through. Behind her, Josie was pretty in light pink jonquil and Lily coolly mysterious in a light grey damask. Arabella’s dress was the same gold as the edging on Mary’s dress.
Mary had asked Arabella to stand with her for two reasons—so she did not have to choose between her friends and to stop any wagging tongues who remembered Hartford had courted Arabella first. Arabella’s presence beside her at the altar would put the ton on notice that she supported the union and cut the gossipmongers off before they could begin to trod down that path.
Unfortunately, Felix and Gabrielle were going to miss the day, though they sent their congratulations and a warm letter expressing their hope they would see the happy couple soon. Mary hoped she would be happy by the time she was able to visit them.
“Is it time to talk about the wedding night now?” Cynthia, Countess of Spencer, was sprawled out on Mary’s bed, although Mary was not entirely sure why she was there. She had come in with Arabella but had stayed out of the way of the actual preparations. Resplendent in a dark pink gown that dipped perilously low in front for a day gown, displaying a fair amount of her ample bosom, she sat up, looking far more energetic than before.
Arabella turned to her, frowning. “We cannot talk about it yet, not with…” She tilted her head in Josie and Lily’s direction.
Immediately, Josie and Lily began to protest.
“We should not have to leave…”
“Why can we not stay?”
Snorting derisively, Cynthia got to her feet, waving at the two indignant young women and fixing Arabella with a stern look.
“Like how Gabrielle and I sent you from the room before our discussions?” Cynthia asked. Arabella’s mouth opened and closed, and Mary was fascinated to see her at a loss for words. Very few people could put Arabella in her place, and she had honestly not expected Cynthia to do so. “If you wish to preserve your privacy and speak to Mary alone, that is your prerogative. However, I do not care if Misses Pennyworth and Davis hear my advice as well. They might learn something.”
Still blushing hotly, Arabella turned up her nose, fascinating Mary.
“Please, call me Josie,” Josie said, smiling widely at Cynthia, who she had mostly ignored until now. Cynthia’s proposed inclusion of her in the discussion had won Josie’s immediate friendship.
“Lily.”
“Cynthia. Considering what we are to discuss, we may as well all be as familiar as possible.” Cynthia was positively cheery, but Arabella groaned and sent a sympathetic glance Mary’s way. Mary frowned. Why would Arabella feel sympathetic? Cynthia clapped her hands. “Now then, Mary, Arabella tells me Hartford has already spanked you. Did you enjoy it?”
Arabella’s sympathy following her attempt at shooing Josie and Lily from the room suddenly made sense. Covering her face with her hands, Mary groaned again as Josie and Lily erupted into a babble of noise, shock and horror filling their voices.
“I will string him up by his toes!”
“Oh, hush, you do not hear Mary complaining, do you?” Cynthia scolded. “Being spanked can be very enjoyable.”
“Only you think so,” Arabella retorted. “The rest of us only like what comes after.”
There was a sudden silence in the room.
“Thomas… Thomas Hood spanks you?” Lily whispered in disbelief.
“And you let him?” Josie still sounded utterly scandalized, but there was a note of curiosity in her tone. Mary knew very well Josie had begun to look up to Arabella. There were many similarities between them.
“Oh… you just had to let them stay,” Arabella complained crossly, and Mary had to laugh.
Standing, she turned to face her friends. There was something strangely freeing about Lily and Josie finally knowing the truth. Even better that she had not had to gather the courage to tell them. She admired Cynthia’s forthrightness, even though she hoped the woman practiced some discretion in less accepting company.
“Yes, he spanked me after he caught me at a masquerade in his home.” The heat of her blush was spreading over her chest, but she kept her chin high. Maybe if she pretended to be as nonchalant as Cynthia was, eventually, she would begin to feel it. “I did like it, although what came afterward was even nicer.”
“What came afterward?” Josie demanded to know. Silent but interested, Lily waited patiently for a full accounting.
The full story finally spilled forth, to varying reactions. Arabella looked vaguely jealous of her exploits, Josie and Lily were torn about whether to be scandalized or intrigued, and Cynthia was cackling madly by the end. The countess hooked her arm through Mary’s at the end of her recitation, peering at her with interest.
“Spanked, though?” Josie shook her head.
“Wait until you have been, then render judgment,” Arabella said tartly. Neither Josie nor Lily looked convinced, but Mary could not pay attention to them as Cynthia tugged on her arm, demanding her focus.
“We are going to be good friends.” Cynthia paused, her pouty mouth turning down at the sides into a frown. “Why have I never noticed you before?”
“Mary is very good at not being noticed,” Josie said absent-mindedly, her mind obviously elsewhere. “Ow!” Lily had elbowed her in the ribs.
“I knew it! Well, Gabrielle knew it,” Arabella amended quickly. “You purposefully try to not draw attention, and therefore, you are free to do whatever you wish. Is that it?”
“I did not mean to do it at first,” Mary confessed. “It is something that happens naturally, so I have taken advantage of it.”
“Think of all the things I could do,” Cynthia mused, then shook herself out of her thoughts. “I will think on that later. For now, it sounds as though Hartford has kept you virgo intacta. Rakes.” She rolled her eyes. “They become positively stuffy about marriage. You would not believe the trouble I went through, trying to convince Wesley to satisfy my curiosity before the wedding day.”
“Did he?” Josie was entranced. Cynthia made a face.
“No. He and Hartford are of a similar mindset, it appears.” She refocused on Mary, envy clear in her tone. “It sounds as if you witnessed everything I could have told you about marital relations. Once you are married to Hartford, I shall expect you to secure me an invitation to this club, by the by. Until then, do you have any questions?”
Only one, which exposed a vulnerability she did not want to dwell on, but this opportunity was not to be missed. The Earl of Spencer’s reputation as a rake was second to none—in many ways, Rex was considered his successor. The man had been tamed by none other than the woman before her. If anyone knew how to secure a rake’s heart and achieve a successful
reformation, it had to be Cynthia.
“How do I make him love me?” The words were filled with a quiet desperation that changed the atmosphere in the room. Lily reached out, clasping Mary’s hand in a show of silent support, and she clung to her friend but did not look away from the countess.
“You cannot make anyone love you,” Cynthia said gently, a soft smile curving her lips. “But there are things you can do to keep him, shall we say, on his toes. Men like my Wesley, and your Rex, relish the chase. Do not ever let him stop chasing you. Wesley never grows bored with me because I do not give him a reason to ever be bored. He also knows very well, if he were to dally with another woman, I would hardly be the type to look the other way. Not only would I kick up a fuss, but what is good for the gander is good for the goose, and he knows I would only have to crook my finger to have a line of suitors out the door, all vying to be in my bed. It will be the same for you. There are already gentlemen wondering what mystique you possess, which has so thoroughly enraptured the Marquess.”
Mary’s eyes widened. She had not considered things from that end. While she suspected a large deal of Rex’s interest in her was due to the secrets she was keeping and his inability to let the mystery pass by, it was also true he had shown a possessiveness she had not expected. Cynthia’s words about gentlemen’s interest being piqued also echoed Aunt Elizabeth and Arabella’s advice about courtship. That it would continue after the wedding… well, she would be fair game in a way she was not as a debutante.
Thanks to her ability to observe the ton without notice, Mary was far more acquainted than most debutantes with the games bored matrons played with various gentlemen.
“Why should Mary have to do all that work to keep her husband interested?” Josie asked, sounding a touch affronted. “Should he not have to put forth effort as well?”
Cynthia laughed. “One day, you should ask my husband exactly how much effort he has to put toward keeping me happy.” Her hazel eyes danced with mischief. “I can assure you, he feels much more put upon than I do. He tells me so regularly, all while exerting himself to satisfy me. Besides, this only works for a man like Rex. If Arabella were to tax Thomas with such measures, he would likely clam up.”
“Thomas chases after me as much as I want him to.” Arabella sniffed. “Besides, I never had to worry about a wandering eye with him. He is not the type to seek out a mistress.”
“No, he is the type to wallow in resentment if he was not satisfied and make both of you miserable in the end. You are good for him,” Cynthia reassured her.
There was a quick knock on the door, and Aunt Elizabeth came bustling in, causing all of them to start guiltily.
“It is time to go, ladies,” Aunt Elizabeth said brightly, clasping her hands in front of her. She appeared only slightly harried from her efforts to organize everything for the brunch following the ceremony. When she took in the sight of Mary, her eyes turned even brighter and suspiciously shiny. “Oh, Mary, you look wonderful, an absolute vision.”
“Yes, she is,” Arabella said fondly, picking up Mary’s veil. “Hartford is going to swallow his tongue.”
“Let us hope not,” Mary heard Cynthia mutter under the laughter that rang out. “There are far more interesting things he could be doing with it.”
Unable to stop giggling, Mary made her way downstairs with the help of her friends and aunt. She was getting married. The little nonsense song Arabella had made up rang in her head, spinning around Cynthia’s advice. No, she could not make the Marquess fall in love with her, but she thought there was a good deal of wisdom in Cynthia’s words. If she followed that line, maybe she, too, could reform her rake and find love in marriage.
Chapter 16
Rex
“I now pronounce thee, husband and wife.”
The simple declaration set off a shocking swell of possessive furor in Rex’s body, solely directed at the beauty clinging to his arm—his wife. She was stunning and looked rather stunned as he led her down the aisle past their guests, no longer Miss Mary Wilson, now the Marchioness of Hartford.
With her by his side, Rex felt every inch the lion the ton called him. Suppressing the urge to drag his new bride off to his lair, he bowed to the social dictates and did the pretty by her side, engaging in the dully monotonous receiving line. Still, having Mary by his side did much to assuage his impatience. Knowing she was finally his, truly and completely his, in the eyes of both the law and the ton, eased some of his impatience. He had waited this long for her… what was a few more hours?
The only sour note of the day was Lucas’ absence, but Carlisle filled his place admirably. Arabella had played her part to perfection as well, clearly glowing with happiness for him and Mary. If anyone was looking for a chink in the family’s relations, they were not going to find it there.
Glancing over the throng outside the church, Rex noted Julian Mitchell’s scowling face. He kept his own expression impassive but reminded himself to have a word with Warwick about the man. It boggled the mind that Warwick could have sponsored such two different men to the Society. Rex thought Captain Jones to be the superior specimen in every conceivable way. When he glanced back over, Mitchell had disappeared into the crowd.
Hartford returned his attention to his new wife and their receiving line as each guest left the church. She handled herself with aplomb, smiling and conversing easily, only the slightest bit of strain beginning to show as the minutes ticked onward. It was not until they were in his carriage, on their way to the brunch her aunt had organized, the social mask slipped, and she slumped on the seat across from him, eyeing him warily.
Perhaps, like him, she was remembering the way their last carriage ride had gone. His cock twitched, but he could wait. His new wife, however, was so tightly wound, he felt it would be beneficial to both of them if he helped her relax.
“Alone at last,” he murmured. She blushed, awareness and arousal flaring in her eyes. Skirts rustled as she squirmed in her seat, and Rex grinned wickedly. All the interest he had lacked at the Society’s masquerade surfaced with a vengeance, focused on her.
The bodice of her dress did not lend itself to rakish endeavors, but Rex would make do with what he could. Kneeling on the carriage floor, he enjoyed the way her eyes widened, surprised, fascinated, and utterly curious.
“What are you doing?” The question came out as a breathless whisper, even though he knew she had seen enough at the Society to have some idea of his goal.
“Exploring,” he replied, winking before flipping up her skirts and diving beneath.
It was a humid, ivory wonderland, the material just thin enough he was not in total darkness. With her legs slightly parted, he could already see she had forgone drawers. Rex smiled in delight, placing his hands on the insides of her knees and spreading them far apart.
“Rex!” The quiet hiss of his name was further muffled by the fabric around him, and Rex ignored her. She was finally, completely his in a manner no other woman had been, and he was going to do as he pleased. Besides, he knew she did not want him to stop—not really. The proprieties might be worrying her, but she did nothing more than say his name, rather than telling him ‘no’ or even asking him to cease.
Sliding his hands under her buttocks, he pulled her hips forward on the seat, enjoying her little squeak. His broad shoulders kept her legs spread, though he could feel her thighs pushing against his arms, trying to close. Sadly, it was too dark to make out any details of her pretty pussy, but he was not here to look, anyway.
Bowing his head, Rex pressed a kiss to the soft flesh of her inner thigh. His cock jerked in response to her gasp and the sudden pressure on his head, where she was now pressing atop her skirts. Scraping his teeth over her sensitive skin, he licked the spot as an apology for the nip, then turned his attention to her opposite thigh, quickly working his way up to her apex.
Later, he would be able to take his time and complete a more thorough exploration, but for now, he only had one goal—to satisfy his new wi
fe before they reached their wedding brunch. No one would know, but the two of them, which somehow was gratification enough.
Mary
Oh, glory… Mary whimpered, one hand over her mouth to stifle the little sounds she could not entirely suppress as Rex kissed his way up her thighs and the other atop the lump where his head was beneath her skirts. She felt achy and itchy all over. She did not know if she could bear it if he stopped, yet she also did not think she should let him continue.
What if they reached the house before he finished?
What if he did not intend to finish, and she was left even more needy and achy than she was now?
Any thought of speaking privately with her new husband during the carriage ride had flown. She did not think she could bear to sit through an entire brunch feeling so tightly wound, yet she could not bring herself to stop him. There was a small part of her wishing, hoping he was going to bring her to completion and satisfy the need pulsing through her.
Besides… she wanted to know what his mouth felt like when applied there.
His tongue flicking over her legs was pleasurable enough, and the softcore of her womanhood throbbed as his lips approached. Mary cried out, her body jerking when his tongue slipped between her nether lips, caressing her intimately and sending pleasure rushing through her. It was utterly, wonderfully wicked.
Rex shifted between her legs, pushing them farther apart, then his mouth was fully on her. Mary leaned back against the carriage seat, her hands moving to brace herself against the rocking wall, trying to push her throbbing parts against his questing tongue. Whether or not the coachman could hear her had ceased to matter.
All that mattered was the growing pleasure in the center of her body, the tingling itch she had not been able to assuage since their last private carriage ride together. Her nipples ached, her toes curled, and she quivered as Rex licked, sucked, and expertly wound her tighter and tighter.