“Gertrude, my dear,” Angeline leaned over and placed a hand on the young miss’s. “Have you ever had a man look at your breasts?”
A brilliant red flush rose to Gertrude’s face and a sigh of relief came from the Sisters Grimm. “Of course not.”
“Well then, imagine being in a crowded ballroom with dozens of men, young and old, who you do not know and your breasts displayed as such so all can see. Do you think you would have a different reaction than that which you just had to my question?”
“Well, no, but . . .” The blush returned.
“And just think,” interrupted Angeline before Gertrude mounted another counterattack, “of the young men you will meet. Do you think any of them would want the breasts of a woman they are considering for marriage to be seen by any of the other men?”
Gertrude, who had been looking away to hide her embarrassment, turned back to look at her hostess. Stunned comprehension passed over her face. “I think I see what you mean, Lady Angeline. Men can be so possessive, can they not? They would not wish to share anything, even something that is just visible, with other males, would they?”
“From my experience,” Angeline consoled, “I would say not. Young men get very possessive when they have taken to a particular young lady. They want her time, they want her attention, and they want to be sure she has not been sullied, in any way, by another. These dresses you see in the plates might be fine as shown for one of the demimonde, but for one such as you, who is looking for a good match, we will have to modify it to be stylish, flattering and reasonably modest. If you like, I will go to the seamstress with you tomorrow and help you pick out fabric and the exact style.”
“Oh, would you, Lady Angeline? I would be so grateful. If we could design something for Lord Hexford’s ball that I could also wear during the Season I would be greatly in your debt.”
“Miss Prudence, Miss Patience, does this meet with your approval?”
“Oh my, yes.” Miss Patience was the first to speak. “We, too, would appreciate your helping the girl out. We wish her not to be far out of fashion, but these gowns are scandalous. Her parents would never forgive us if we let her go out in one such as these.”
“It would be absurd,” put in Miss Prudence.
“Then tomorrow at the shop in the village. Shall we say one o’clock?” asked Angeline.
“Oh, yes, Aunt Patience, Aunt Prudence. Please let’s do,” effused Gertrude.
“As you wish, niece. Tomorrow at one, then,” confirmed Prudence as Patience nodded her agreement.
The rest of the afternoon passed with discussions of the local gossip and further preparation for the impending ball. When the three left, they were all elated with the results of the visit, the sisters most effusive about the guidance she had given their niece on the matter of an appropriate gown.
Angeline enjoyed the visit, but as she turned her back to lean against the front door, she lamented.
No Geoffrey.
Dinner came and went without the presence of the marquess being felt. Not even a note arrived to explain his absence. It took all of the self-control she possessed not to show her disappointment, her agitation, her anger, that Geoffrey had not appeared.
Later that evening, in her bedchamber, she mused about the activities of the prior night. Her body became heated. Geoffrey had taken her not once, but three times. He had her begging for him, begging for more of him. Her face flushed from the thoughts of how wanton she had been.
But he had been just as aroused as she. He had lost no time in each of their matings. He had not restrained his climax. It suddenly dawned on her he had not been able to contain himself, control himself. He had wanted her as desperately as she had wanted him. He had lost control. She was not alone in the need for the intimacy they were sharing. Geoffrey, too, had as much need of her as she had for him.
At last. She was no longer powerless, no longer a pawn in the game. He wanted her, but he needed her, too. The knowledge would do her well in the future, the very near future.
With haste, she prepared herself and escaped from the manse without a sound. Shortly thereafter, she arrived at the cottage just before midnight to find the windows dark, the hearth cold.
Yes, Geoffrey was fighting this, fighting it to the end. She herself had been down this route and lost. Would he prove stronger than she had been? Would he be able to refrain from seeking her sexual favors this night? Any night?
With feminine optimism she prepared the room. Lamps were lit. The hearth came ablaze with heat. Then she disrobed, laying all of her clothing neatly over a chair. Moments later, she was sprawled upon the bed in the most seductive pose she could think of. Her back was to the door, her derrière exposed fully to view. She was twisted at the waist looking over her shoulder, her breast just visible. She had barely set her position when her question was answered.
The door slammed against the wall as Geoffrey exploded into the room in a fine fit of temper. As the door came back to him, he slammed it shut behind him.
“Angeline!” he roared as his eyes fell upon her, stopping him in his tracks.
“Yes, my lord?” crooned Angeline seductively.
Geoffrey stood there momentarily speechless, his eyes roving over the sensuous sight presented him. His already aroused manhood started to throb hotly within his trousers, his mouth became dry, his breathing became harsh. Then she moved . . .
Angeline, evidently sensing her tenuous advantage, pulled her legs up beneath her and presented her backside fully to the eyes of her lover. “Angeline . . .” groaned Geoffrey noticing the glistening dewdrops of her honey clinging to the fine hairs surrounding her enticing entrance. He strode across the small chamber while unbuttoning his britches. In one instant he had loosed his flagrant manhood and knelt behind her upon the bed. With no further ceremony, he slid his throbbing cock into her slick slit. Grabbing her hips with both hands, he thrust deeply into her. “Angeline,” he whispered reverently. He thrust again. “Angeline,” he groaned as his body tensed all over. “Angeline!” he roared with his third thrust as his need overtook his control and he poured his seed into her, pushing deeply, holding her hips prisoner against his.
For many moments, Angeline could feel the convulsions of her lover behind her. She had no doubt there would be bruises where his hands now held her. He had not taken the time to seduce her, to prepare her. His need had been too great. As his final tremors quieted, Angeline slid down to a prone position upon the bed. Her face buried in her crossed arms, a smile of pure triumph eased across it. She lay there savoring her victory while her lover threw himself onto the bed next to her in exhaustion, still trying to gain control of his breathing.
Minutes passed without a word from either, then Geoffrey rose to relieve himself of his clothing. He returned to the bed, naked at last, and wrapped his body around hers. As his arm came around her, he filled his hand with her breast. He bent his head low to whisper into her ear, “You little minx. You will pay for that.”
“Do you promise, my lord?” queried Angeline, her voice filled with the gloating she was still enjoying. She wiggled against him, her backside against his sex once again.
“You dare to tease me, Angeline? Have you not had enough just yet?” he growled.
“Do you want more, my lord? Could I possibly make you want more?” she crooned while she wiggled her lush bottom against him. “Surely, you have had enough and can control your needs further.”
“Careful, Angeline, or I will give you another good fucking,” he warned her off.
But Angeline was not about to take heed. She now knew for certain she could make him want her, make him need her, and the power was too much. Wiggling her bottom even more, arching her backside into him, she demanded, “Fuck me, my lord. Fuck me.”
Aroused to a passion again, Geoffrey flipped her onto her back in
a move so quick and smooth Angeline was momentarily disoriented. Then he roughly used his legs to part hers, not hesitating when she was spread wide to plunge his rampant sex into her.
“Fuck you I shall, my lady,” he roared at her as he thrust into her once again. “And a good fucking it shall be.” Deeply he filled her, then drew back to tease her, playing at her entrance while she pushed her hips up to him.
Angeline could not wipe the smile from her lips. “Yes, Geoffrey. Fuck me. Show me how much you have need of me.”
His lips came down hard upon hers as his tongue forced its way into her heated mouth. Angeline groaned with the all-consuming feel of him, the heat and hardness of him, the unending need he was displaying once again. Their mouths grasped at each other’s, tongues entangling, searching, groping for satisfaction. All the while Geoffrey impaled her over and over again, bringing her need higher and higher while having a difficult time controlling his own.
It was finally he who broke over the crest first, tumultuously tensing, grabbing, gasping, impelling her to join him instantaneously. Together their bodies danced the dance of love while their minds and souls floated, intermingled and united binding them even closer than before, even closer than either could ever admit to themselves, much less to each other.
Chapter 11
The following day was balmy so, rather than be cooped up in the carriage, Angeline decided she would have Aphrodite saddled and she would ride into the village to the seamstress.
It quite surprised her that she no longer felt pain upon mounting her mare despite the intense lovemaking the night before. And intense it was. The thought of it made her flush and heat all over. Geoffrey was a wonderful lover. And he had been right, she would not have wanted to go to her grave without the experiences he had been sharing with her. The only remaining question she had—could she stand by and watch him wed another? Would her heart bear it? Or, should she compromise and marry him even if he did not love her? Any other woman would and would count herself lucky.
She had no answer so she tried to clear her mind and enjoy the ride to town.
She arrived at the seamstress’s shop, one Mrs. Flount, before the others. As usual, the seamstress was only too happy to see her.
“Oh, my lady,” Mrs. Flount effused, “it has been an age since you were here. I was so afraid my last dresses for you had not pleased you.” The generously proportioned, grey-haired lady slid her spectacles down her pugged nose and did her best at a curtsey.
“Nonsense, Mrs. Flount. The dresses were most adequate. The social activities here about just do not require a larger wardrobe.”
Mrs. Flount nodded in agreement, then added, “So, my lady, what can I help you with today?”
“Well, you will actually be helping someone else. I am here only as advisor.” With that, the shop bell rang as Miss Patience, Miss Prudence, and Gertrude entered. “And here is the young miss we will be assisting.”
“Oh, Lady Angeline,” Gertrude rushed forward to take both of her hands. “I cannot tell you how excited and grateful I am that you are here to help me today.”
“Quite so, Lady Angeline,” put in Miss Patience. “Prudence and I will be ever in your debt.”
Angeline released Gertrude to take each of the sisters’ hands in hers by turn. “Not necessary. You are my dearest friends. How could I ever let your niece make such decisions without my assistance when you were so kind to ask? It will be my pleasure.”
She turned back to the seamstress. “We are all here, Mrs. Flount. I think it best we get started. There is a ball put on by Viscount Hexford Friday next and this miss”—Angeline waved at Gertrude gracefully—”is in need of an appropriate gown. Let us look at your pattern books and see what we can contrive.”
Mrs. Flount led them all into the back of her shop. The next hour and a half were spent selecting a pattern, appropriate fabric, and the necessary trim. Gertrude was delighted with the outcome. Her face was all smiles as she fondled the soft, Dresden blue silk, which would make up her gown and complement her eyes. The ivory lace that lay next to it would be just the thing to make the dress elegant without being overdone. Angeline was sure the girl would look exceptional in the piece, and it would take her to the Ton for the Season as well.
The sisters and the niece bid the shopkeeper and Angeline goodbye. Angeline stood facing the door for a moment, tapping her right index finger against her chin.
“My lady, is there something else I could be helping you with?”
“A moment, if you please, Mrs. Flount. Just give me a moment to think.” The finger-tapping continued. Then she turned and smiled. “Yes, I think I, too, will have need of a new gown.” After all, she could not have some girl just out of the schoolroom eclipsing her own presence, now could she? Especially with the marquess there. Surely there must be some fabric and style which would take his breath away. And, then there would be later that night. . .
“Mrs. Flount, I think I would like to revisit the thought of a new gown for myself. Can you make the time?”
The seamstress’s face beamed. “Of course, my lady. I would be most honored to make you the dress of your choice. And, I think I have some new silks that would accent your hair and eyes wonderfully!”
It was nearly two hours later when Angeline opened the shop door to the sound of the tiny bell and stepped onto the walk. She was astonishingly pleased with herself. She could hardly wait to see the face of the mighty marquess when she wore her new confection to the ball Friday night.
Her happy mood was suddenly interrupted.
“Lady Angeline, how wonderful to see you here.” Viscount Hexford stood so close to her, she was nearly backed against the shop windows.
“My lord, how do you fare today?”
“Quite well, my lady. I see you have been to the seamstress.” His leer was not even subtle. “Have you bought a new gown for my gala? The invitations went out this morning. But of course, you knew you would be first on my list.”
“Why, yes. I thought it time to indulge. I may go up to London this Season and I thought a new gown would go to good use.” Angeline brought her hands up between them to tug on her gloves. Really, the man was just too forward. He should not be standing so close.
“I will be enchanted, then, to have you on my arm. Both Friday night and in London. We shall be the thing madam. Shall we not?”
His assumption was obvious and tasteless as well. “Well, my lord, I think that remains to be seen. In the meantime,” Angeline moved to turn away but the viscount blocked her path.
“I say, Angeline.”
She could not believe how Lord Hexford’s addresses to her were becoming more and more intimate despite her repeated warnings.
“Since you are here and so am I,” he went on, “how ‘bout we stop for a spot of tea at the inn?”
She opened her mouth but it was not her voice that emerged.
“I am afraid,” came the smooth deep voice of the marquess, “that will not be possible. Lady Angeline has other plans. She is having tea with me. Are you not, my dear?”
Angeline looked up to see the huge form of her lover standing next to her. She met his dark green gaze and sensed the humor dwelling there. He had her cornered. It was either him, or Lord Hexford. What choice was there? Her heart skipped a beat. Then another. She closed her mouth to regain her composure. “Yes, my lord. We had planned tea. Right after my visit to the seamstress.” She turned back to Hexford, doing her best to hide her relief in having a valid excuse not to take tea with his uncouth self. “I do apologize, my lord, I have previous plans.”
Hexford did not hide the scowl that contorted his face. “I see,” he said but the look of disbelief was plain. He did not in the least believe there had been prior plans. He bowed from the waist. “Until Friday evening then.” His face still contorted, he turned and walked away.
“I cannot but help to assist a damsel in distress.”
Geoffrey’s deep voice roiled through her. She tilted her face up to his once again.
“I had no need to be rescued. I would have begged off without a problem.” Her look was intentionally sharp.
Was that a smirk on his handsome face?
“Hexford is nothing if not persistent. I would not be so sure you would have refused his attentions. He is after you and he is not letting go easily.”
“It is none of your concern. I have handled him to this point. And, I shall continue to do so without your help.” Angeline turned to take her leave.
“He is still watching us from down the street. You are headed in the wrong direction. The inn is this way.” Geoffrey gently took her elbow and turned her around.
Her stomach fluttered nervously. It was always so when he touched her, no matter they were in public.
With reluctance, she allowed him to escort her to the inn. She hoped it was crowded with people taking tea and was much relieved to see it was so while Geoffrey had private words with the innkeeper.
Moments later, they were led to the only private dining room the tiny village inn had. Angeline’s heart thudded in her chest. It would not be good to be alone with him. She knew what happened every time they were in close proximity and alone. And in such a place as a public inn, the word would get out and she would be ruined, or, at the very least, compromised. It was bad enough she was not chaperoned, regardless of her age. How many people had seen her? What would they be saying only moments from now?
An Improper Seduction Page 10