An Improper Seduction

by Quill, Suzanne

  “Is she, Geoffrey? Is she? Well, let us have luncheon and begin the plans. Have you picked a date?”

  The two men left the library for the dining room. They settled in comfortably waiting for the object of their mutual affection to present herself.

  As Angeline entered and caught sight of her betrothed, she hesitated momentarily. Recomposing herself she nodded as she acknowledged him, “My lord. Papa.” Then she sat in a seat next to her father.

  “Angeline, Geoffrey has come asking for your hand and I have given it. Was I right in doing so, my dear?”

  Angeline looked down at the plate before her, playing with her food but not eating it. This was all going much too fast. But, in her situation, it was probably best not to tarry too long. “Yes, Papa,” she responded without raising her eyes, her voice sullen and resigned.

  “So when shall the wedding be?” asked her father gently.

  Angeline responded with hesitation, “The banns must be read, it will take at least three weeks, maybe four. The plans must be made, a gown, a breakfast. It will all take time to plan.”

  “I have a special license,” Geoffrey quietly injected, “I obtained it while I was in London.”

  Angeline looked up into her betrothed’s eyes, seething with unspent frustration and rage. “Well, you have just planned everything, haven’t you, my lord?” she commented, her voice tight with restraint.

  “It pays to be prepared, my dear. I always try to be ready for whatever life presents me. It does help things run a lot smoother,” was the marquess’s calm reply. He knew she was not happy with his manipulation but felt the sooner they were wed the better off they both would be, the faster they would settle into their new roles of husband and wife. “Saturday would be a fine day. I think we should take the vows on Saturday,” he averred.

  “Saturday?” retorted Angeline. “Impossible. There is just too much to do.”

  “Nonsense,” answered Geoffrey. “I will take care of all of the preparations. You need only have a gown made and your things packed and moved to my manor. The wedding breakfast will take place there after we exchange our vows in the church. We can invite the local gentry and the villagers. What more need be done?”

  “I see no need to draw this out, my dear,” commented Angus. “Surely the dressmaker will drop everything to make you a new gown. Or you could wear the one you just had made. You did look beautiful in it. And the household will help you pack your things. We have four days. I’ll send the footman down to the village to tell the seamstress you will be there shortly.” Angus picked up the bell next to his plate and rang it once.

  “So you are both set upon this course. Well, I can see I have no say in the matter. I think I have had enough to eat. I will leave you now to make your wedding plans. Too bad you require a bride to go with them.” With that Angeline rose from her chair, tossed her napkin onto her plate and stormed from the room. The two men could hear her hurried footsteps as she mounted the stairs to her room.

  “I fear, Geoffrey, you have won a battle but the war wages on. Your work is still cut out for you. I do not envy your position,” cautioned Angus as they returned to their meals.

  At midnight the door of the cottage slammed open. “Still the bastard,” Angeline threw at him as she found him naked to the waist, his Hessians and socks also removed.

  In two long strides Geoffrey crossed to her and gathered her in his arms. Before she could utter another word, his lips crushed hers with heat and desire. He moved his mouth not letting her come up for air. As she relaxed slightly in his arms, he slid his tongue in to meet hers and start a new battle for control.

  Angeline pushed hard against his strength willing herself not to give in, not to relent. But she had met her match. The closeness of him, the scent of him, leather and sandalwood, the taste of him, was it champagne? All sent her senses spinning. Before she knew it, she was kissing him back, holding him, reaching for him, arching against him.

  Evidently sensing her change of mood and her mounting need, Geoffrey released her lips to blaze kisses down her throat. His hands worked her buttons until her gown drifted quietly to the floor and he was holding her, naked, against him. He picked her up and placed her tenderly on the bed then unbuttoned his pants and slid them down over his hips.

  “Geoffrey,” whispered Angeline as his throbbing sex sprang free.

  He moved into the bed beside her and embraced her once again. “Yes, Angeline, I am here. I am yours. Tell me what you want.” His lips moved to hers again, then to her cheek, her jaw, her ear. Down her throat until he reached her breasts and then took one tight, pink nipple into his mouth suckling gently. The groan he heard escape her throat pleased him to no end. All would be well he swore to himself. Somehow it would work out all right.

  He made love to her tenderly, passionately, but with great care. Angeline shattered in his arms and felt him return the intensity as he, too, met his moment of need and fulfilled it. He held her closely to him as they slept until morning came and she left him once again.

  The next few days and nights followed in like pattern. Preparations went forth during the afternoons as all the necessary arrangements were made. When midnight arrived the two would meet at the cottage and spend hours in each other’s arms loving passionately but tenderly, so different from before.

  Angeline spent her time joyous one moment, enraged the next. Part of her was elated to be marrying Geoffrey. There had never been another man she had felt so much for, had wanted to be with constantly, had loved so deeply. But he did not love her, he wanted a wife and an heir and that was why she would be giving up her freedom, the opportunity to run his household and brood his brats. They would be hers too, of course, but she expected there would not be much between them once the vows were said and the commitment made. She had heard the tale many times in her Seasons in the Ton. Young women swept off their feet by men who only wanted the money, title, lands they held or an heir to guarantee their blood line. After the wedding the men went off their own ways and spent the money anyway they chose fit only returning to the manor to beget another child for the wife to raise in his absence. Everything she loathed about marriage was soon to be visited upon her.

  Chapter 25

  The dawn broke on Saturday morning to find Angeline in her own bed. She and Geoffrey had desisted from their trysting on the eve of their wedding knowing they would need all the rest they could get to meet the demands of the day.

  But Angeline had not slept very much. She had lain awake for hours thinking of the wedding, the marriage and how much she missed the warmth of Geoffrey beside her. Once she had fallen asleep, her rest was fitful, nightmares more than dreams had plagued her. She had visions of Geoffrey leaving the manor on extended trips, carousing with beautiful women and coming home to stay just long enough to get her pregnant again. When she woke, she was drained and distraught but there was nothing she could do to stop the wedding. She was with child, already over a month. As it was, all of the local matrons would be counting back once the child arrived. She had to go through with it. At least it would put her father’s mind at rest. And she was sure Geoffrey would never physically hurt her even though she would be in agony every time he left to go off on his own, to lead a full life without her.

  When her maid, Margaret, finally arrived with her breakfast tray she was not sure whether she was relieved or aggravated. She did her best not to snap at the abigail since none of this was her doing, but it was difficult to hide her unease. Margaret simply smiled and consoled her by telling her she had pre-wedding jitters, that all would be better after the wedding night was over.

  Angeline simply groaned. Would he even come to her bed tonight? Why should he? He would have the marriage. The child was already conceived. She hoped he would at least wait a few days before he went off and left her.

  Hours later she found herself standing at
the church door, her father at her side, almost in a dream state as she gazed into the church, so much darker than the bright day outside. She could see him, her almost-husband, standing to the right of the minister. He stood tall as he gazed at the door in which she stood. He was so confident. Why wasn’t she?

  As the music started, she stepped down the aisle in time. Angus held her gently but firmly while mumbling encouraging words.

  Geoffrey studied the figure slowly approaching him. He’d slept not a wink. Why could he not sleep without her anymore? Yet when she was near him, he slept like the dead, all peace and contentment. She was a vision in her green silk gown. He couldn’t wait to see her eyes reflect the color and the richness. The soft fabric clung to her voluptuous body, her lush breasts rose above the décolletage. Her breasts were fuller now that she was increasing. He loved the feel of them in his hands, in his mouth. Damn! He was getting hard right there in the church. Everyone would surely see the bulge in his skintight buckskins if they were not so busy watching his bride walking toward him. In moments she would be his. At last, she would be his. Forever.

  As Angeline took her place next to him, Angus kissed her cheek then gave her hand to Geoffrey. “Take good care of her,” he whispered to the marquess.

  Geoffrey took hold of her tenderly but securely; they both turned to Parson Jones.

  The wedding breakfast went on for hours. Everyone for miles round had attended the wedding to see Angeline finally give over to a man, for all knew she had sworn never to take up the station of wife. Gifts were profuse as was the praise for the food, entertainment and their persons.

  Angeline mingled among the guests wishing they could stay forever. She was thankful that Hexford, who had not been invited, had not chosen to force himself upon them.

  It was with delight, however, that she accepted the effusive congratulations of the Sisters Grimm and Gertrude.

  “My lady,” said Gertrude, “you are the most beautiful bride I have ever seen.”

  Patience took Angeline’s hand in her own and patted it. “You have done the right thing, Lady Angeline.”

  “Of course she has,” injected Prudence. “Mark my words, Lady Angeline, you will never come to regret this day.”

  Angeline returned a smile she was sure was overly bright, but she could not cloud the affection and support shared by her friends.

  “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you all for coming.” She leaned forward and gave each a warm kiss on the cheek. “This day would not be complete without your shining faces. Gertrude I am so glad you could stay long enough for the wedding. Will you be leaving soon?”

  “In less than a fortnight, my lady. I will return home for a brief visit and then I will be off to London for the Little Season. Aunt Prudence and Aunt Patience will meet my parents there and assist mama in acting as chaperones. I am so truly excited.”

  “Will you and the marquess be traveling to London, Lady Angeline?” Prudence asked.

  Angeline’s stomach knotted. She doubted she would be going to town if the marquess chose to attend events of the Little Season, especially since she was increasing. “I do not know. We have made no specific plans as yet.”

  “Well,” said Patience, “we will keep you informed of when and where we will be. That way, if you have occasion to be in London, you will be able to visit us.”

  “Marvelous idea, Sister.”

  “Oh, yes, my lady, please promise you will visit if you are in London. I have learned so very much from you during my visit. I would so appreciate further advice.” Gertrude’s eyes shone with gratitude.

  “Well, we will see about the visit.” Angeline schooled her face so as not to give away her doubt. “But, my current advice would be to enjoy the Little Season but make no commitments. You will want to be available for the spring when the Ton returns from hunting and holiday. The choices for a husband will be so much greater then.” Angeline could only hope the girl would have better choices than she had when she endured the Marriage Mart. “Oh, you must excuse me now. The marquess is waving for me.”

  “Our very best to you, Lady Colburn. From all of us.” Prudence took her hand this time and gave it a squeeze as she leaned into her ear. She whispered, “Do not worry, Angeline. You will see it will all work out for the best. Patience and I both know it will.”

  As her hand was released tears filled her eyes. “Thank you both for being my friends. It means so very much to me. Enjoy the party. Eat your fill as the marquess spared no expense. I am sure we will have a visit in the near future after things settle in.” And she is home alone tending the marquess’s manor and nurturing her pregnant state.

  Angeline stepped to her husband’s side to accept the good wishes of Doctor Wesley. He went on to express his hopes she would still be assisting him in the care and birthings that went on in the local area. The marquess assured them both he had no reason to see her past duties be altered. His arm moved round her shoulders and he hugged her gently to him. The good doctor beamed at Geoffrey’s attentiveness then made apologies that he must be going as he had patients to tend.

  It was then that Angeline noticed that the crowd was thinning quickly. The Sisters Grimm and Gertrude were heading to their carriage and many others were already in their vehicles, headed down the long drive way.

  Angeline had no desire to experience her first night of rejection. The longer all these people stayed the longer she could put off the inevitable. But the dusk had deepened and the crowd had thinned. It was with a start she felt Geoffrey take her hand into his large, warm one.

  “I think we’ve done enough here, my lady. Let us take our leave,” he whispered in her ear as he led her toward the house.

  Once in her chambers, Brenda, her new maid, came to attend her. Margaret had declined to move to the manor after years of looking after Angeline. Her father seemed to be pleased her maid had stayed behind, leaving Angeline wondering what may have gone on between them after her mother had died. She knew her father had loved her mother, but as years had passed, surely loneliness had softened his heart to look toward another. Since Margaret had never married, maybe she had always held a tendre for her father.

  Brenda, however, was only too happy to take up training as a lady’s maid. And Angeline was happy to have her as her experiences as a new mother would be supportive of her own future.

  She had been settled into the marchioness’s rooms, the lovely room in rosy hues she had already spent the night in after Brenda’s babe was born. The maid helped her undress, chattering endlessly and giggling in between.

  Her bath was warm, scented with her favorite lavender. She took her time soaking and relaxing in the tub trying to gain control of her thoughts and fears as the heat of the water soothed the tensions out of her body. As she rose and was toweled dry, she sighed as she stepped into the sheer, white gown presented her. Moments later she was seated at the dressing table while Brenda brushed through her long, sheening hair.

  “I’ll do that, you may take your leave,” came Geoffrey’s gruff voice. She looked up into the dressing table mirror to see her new husband. He had entered quietly from the adjoining room wearing a forest green silk dressing robe, his feet bare beneath the hem.

  “As you wish, my lord,” answered Brenda as she filled his outstretched hand with the hair brush to make a hasty, silent retreat through the dressing room door.

  Angeline studied Geoffrey’s reflection in the mirror, his broad shoulders towering over her. What next?

  Geoffrey gently pulled the brush through her hair over and over again, enjoying the silky texture and its glow in the candlelight. He had touched her hair many times but this was only the second time he had opportunity to brush it. He liked the sensation and thought he might like to do it every night. It aroused him while it seemed to please her.

  “You look lovely as always, Angeline,” he whi
spered into her ear as he bent over her.

  “Thank you, my lord. I am glad you approve,” she returned softly, hesitantly.

  “I love the feel of your hair, lady wife. Do you mind my brushing it?” he inquired as he pulled the brush through yet again.

  “Not if it pleases you, my lord.”

  “So distant, Angeline. We have married and now we are so proper?” Geoffrey asked not missing a stroke.

  “I know not what to expect, nor what to do.”

  “You knew what to do a few nights ago. Have things changed so much?”

  “Now I am your possession, my lord. You have all you have wanted. You have a wife. You have a child coming. You have everything,” she answered trying to hide the pain in her eyes by looking away.

  “Is that all you think you are to me, Angeline? A possession?”

  “It is what you told me you wanted at the beginning, my lord. It is your duty as the new marquess to marry and have children, is it not?”

  “Come to bed, Angeline,” he commanded.

  “To bed?”

  Geoffrey placed the brush upon the table then lifted her up into his arms. As he strode through the adjoining door, he assured her, “Yes, to bed. My bed. Finally, at last, you will be in my bed.” Then he tenderly settled her upon the finally woven sheets of the master’s bedchamber.

  “You want me in your bed? Tonight?” she asked somehow confused.

  “Of course I do,” he responded. “Why else would I have married you?” he asked her.

  “For a chatelaine and an heir,” she threw at him.

  Geoffrey opened his dressing gown to expose his arousal to her. “Does this body look like I am only in need of a housekeeper and a brood mare?”