Abandon

by Moors, Jerusha

  He purposely stepped next to her, subtly inhaling the scent of lavender emanating from her hair. She did not look at him as she asked, “Are these paintings of Italy from the area where you were living?”

  “Yes, they are from La Spezia and the Ligurian region where I lived for the last five years.”

  Lucy nodded, still examining the pictures. “They are lovely, Aubrey. You have grown as an artist. These are worthy of exhibition at the Royal Academy.”

  “Thank you, Lucy.” He swallowed hard, forcing the words from his throat. Aubrey could not find any other words. Lucy had always been honest and she had an innate gift for color and detail in her criticisms. If she liked the paintings, then that was enough to gratify him.

  “There are no people in them. You used to do portraits.”

  “The only person I have ever painted is you.”

  She finally turned to him, her eyes wide in surprise. “Surely that is not so.”

  “I am afraid that it is true.” He let out a self-deprecating puff of sound and shrugged. “You are my muse, Lucy. That has always been the truth. It still is and always will be true.”

  Aubrey reached for her hand and pulled her across the room to where another stack of canvases laid facing against the wall. He took the first one and turned it around so that Lucy could see the portrait of herself sitting on her horse, her hair flying loose as she turned to look at something off to the side. The next canvas showed Lucy sitting on a wall, her arms full of wildflowers. A smaller canvas showed a sleeping Lucy lying on a blanket under one of the elm trees that bordered a meadow where she and Aubrey had often gone to picnic. Picture after picture showed Lucy in different poses, smiling or thoughtful gazes looking out from the different portraits. The last one showed Lucy nude on a blanket, one hand shyly covering her nether curls while the other hand curled over her head. Her hair was down, just barely covering one pink-tipped breast.

  She drew in a deep breathe. “I did not pose for any of these,” she said.

  “I know. I did them all from memory while I was in Italy.”

  “You were thinking of me?” Aubrey could see the uncertainty in her eyes, the flash of doubt, and he pulled her to him.

  “Every minute,” he said and crushed his lips to hers. She moaned and he pulled her closer until he could feel her breasts heaving against his chest. He thrust his tongue into her mouth and she responded with her own, swirling and mating with his.

  Aubrey pivoted, pulling Lucy around and against the wall. Her hands were around his neck and pulling on his hair, trying to join his mouth back to hers, but he did not care. He nipped down the side of her neck, nibbling tenderly where her pulse beat in her throat. He pulled the fichu out of the neck of her dress and hooked a finger inside the bodice, trying to pull it down while he rained kissed across her chest. There was a rip and Lucy gasped, but Aubrey was n0t going to stop now. A plump ivory breast tumbled out and into his greedy mouth while he gently squeezed the other. She was moaning in a constant low undertone; his Lucy had always been vocal in her lovemaking.

  Her nipple was turgid and he suckled, then laved it with his tongue. His cock ached in the confines of his breeches and he stood back up to take her mouth again. He lifted her body against the wall and put his knee between her legs so that he could press against her, trying to find some relief for his throbbing member.

  They both froze when there was a knock at the door. Aubrey turned his head to stare as if he could see through the wood and force whoever was there away.

  “My lord,” a voice called.

  He closed his eyes and tried to gain control of his errant body, stepping away from Lucy. She gasped and put her breast away inside the torn remnants of her dress. She searched the ground frantically for her fichu and dove for it as if the lacy piece could still cover the bare expanse of her chest.

  Aubrey sighed and called out, “Yes, what is it?”

  The voice, one of his footmen, John, he thought, replied. “Baron Aversley is downstairs to see you, my lord. He said you had an appointment to go out.”

  Aubrey closed his eyes and shook his head. “Fine, yes, I will be there in a moment. Please let him know I will be delayed for a short time.” He reached down to adjust himself, then studied Lucy’s attempt at making herself presentable.

  “Here,” he grabbed the smock he used to cover his clothes when painting. “Try this. I’m sorry, both that I ripped your dress and that I let this get out of hand. I forgot that I had a meeting with George this morning. He wants my advice on a bridal gift for Harriet before we all leave for his estate for the wedding week.”

  Lucy had her eyes cast down as she wrapped herself in the smock. “It is fine. I should never have come up here alone with you.”

  Aubrey reached out and clasped her lightly by the upper arms. “Lucy, it is my fault entirely. I did want you to see my paintings.” He grinned. “And I intended to wait until tonight when we are in your bed to..”

  Lucy interrupted her face a bright red. “No, please, I do not know. Perhaps we should not...”

  “Yes, we should.” Aubrey cut her off, shaking her slightly to emphasize his words. He did not want her to have any doubts at this stage and he emphasized his seriousness. “You agreed, Lucy. As a matter of fact you were the initiator, not that it took any great urging on my part. You and I are meant to be together and this is just the first step. Again, I apologize for my premature actions, but I have been thinking about us together for a very, very long time.” He smiled at her. “But I think I can wait for a few more hours.”

  Lucy bit her lip and then nodded her head. “Is that what you intend, to come to my bed?”

  “If it is agreeable to you, I think that would be best. You have fewer servants to worry about than I. I will escort you home from the Mautravers’ ball this evening and slip inside with you as long as no one is about. And speaking of that, I will see you home now before we raise George’s suspicions. I can take you back the way we came in.”

  “But your servants,” Lucy twisted the fichu in her hands, having given up on replacing it in her torn bodice.

  “They are discreet. It will be fine, Lucilla.” He caressed her cheek softly. He did not think they would gossip but no one but no one would care once she was his wife. “Come, we should go.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  The Maultravers' ball was a crush. George led Harriet into the ballroom, but they were stopped every few moments by someone they knew. Aubrey kept Lucy by his side, never pausing until they reached a cleared spot on the far side of the huge room. He nodded at a few of his friends, but ignored the young ladies who tried to attract his attention as well as their overeager mamas. Lucy meekly walked beside him. She had been quiet ever since they had picked her and Harriet up in the carriage. The two of them had decided to get ready for the ball at Harriet’s home and he had had no chance to speak to her privately. But Aubrey fully intended to find out what the matter was. He did not want her to have doubts or second thoughts now.

  He looked over at her, but she was watching the dancers, a small frown on her lips. There were faint dark circles under her eyes, testifying to her lack of sleep the night before.

  “Lady Lucilla, how are you this evening?”

  She looked startled at his formal address, but attempted a smile. “I am quite fine, my lord. And how are you? I do hope you had a good day as the weather was so fine.”

  “Weather, Lucy?” He leaned in and whispered as no one was around that at the moment. “Really? You want to talk about the weather?”

  A mulish look came over her face and her eyes flashed fire at him. Better, he thought.

  “And what subject would you wish to converse about, Lord Lovell?” There was an edge to her tone, but Aubrey ignored it. Her hand was still on his arm and it was trembling. He covered it with his own and gave it a squeeze, then released it as realized there were hundreds of eyes around them.

  “Lucy,” he said in a low tone. “Would you rather forego our assignati
on this evening?”

  She tensed, then looked out over the crowd. “Why, do you have a better offer for tonight?” She held her chin high and her eyes were cool.

  Aubrey felt his guts roil. He would not force her if she was truly having doubts. But he needed to be with her, needed to show her all the love that he could not express with the crowds that always seemed to be around them. Lucy would not believe him unless he could show her. Words would not sway her after the way he had abandoned her before. It must be just nerves. Gad, he was nervous himself, had worried all day about the various ways that things could go wrong.

  Lucy glanced sideways at him, waiting for him to respond. Spots of color appeared on her cheekbones and she bit her lip.

  “Of course not,” he said, trying not to show his frustration. “I was just thinking of you in case...”

  “Lovell, my dear, I was not sure that you planned to attend this evening.”

  Aubrey stiffened as his mother came up to them. She gave Lucy a hard glance, but ignored her as she leaned forward to kiss his cheek. His eyes narrowed in suspicion wondering what she was up to. His mother was normally not affectionate and most certainly not after their last discussion.

  “Mother, I did not expect to see you tonight, or any night for that matter. I thought you were staying at your sister’s home.”

  Lucy pulled her hand away from his arm and Aubrey wanted to snatch it back, but could not with his mother standing there. There was going to be a scene, he could tell.

  “Oh, it was boring there and I had already accepted several engagements in town that I did not want to miss.”

  “Mother, you remember Lady Lucilla Blount.” Aubrey watched Lucy give a small curtsy to the older woman and the dowager Lady Lovell gave a brief nod in acknowledgment.

  “Lady Lucilla, how is your brother and dear Anne. You must be anxious to return home as Lady Wakefield will be nearing her term, I should think.” Lady Lovell actually reached out and patted Lucy’s shoulder.

  “They are well, I thank you. And yes, I am anxious to return to Yorkshire.”

  “Dreadful place, so far away. I prefer town much more. But you will excuse me please and let me borrow my son for a moment. The Duke of Clairmont would like to speak to him. He has not had the opportunity since Lovell returned home.”

  “Of course, I believe that I see my friend Lady Harriet waving to me over there.” Aubrey looked, but Harriet was merrily dancing with George, her back to Lucy. Before he could say anything Lucy had given another small curtsy and hied off across the room. He turned to his mother, but she took his arm, ready for him to escort her to the corner where the Duke of Clairmont stood with a small crowd around him. Aubrey sighed and led her across the floor, but he tracked Lucy’s dark hair as she walked around the edge of the room.

  Lucy found a corner where she could stop and collect herself. She turned to the wall as if studying the plant placed there and put her hands to her hot cheeks and closed her eyes. This was not going to work. She should just go back to Yorkshire now, tonight. She did not know what she had been thinking to make that proposal to Aubrey and then today in Aubrey’s house she had completely lost her wits. How shameless she was. And he did not even appear to care one way or the other. She suspected that if she did just disappear he would find another eager mistress among the widows and light-skirts in town. He had only agreed to her because he found it convenient.

  She gathered herself and turned back to the room. Lucy scanned the dancers until she found Harriet and George going through the steps of a country dance. She would tell Harriet that she must return home immediately, an emergency that she could not put off.

  Lucy drew in a breath as she saw Aubrey standing across the room with his mother and the Duke of Clairmont. A petite blonde girl was laughing up at him and he smiled down at her, obviously amused by her prattle. The girl was quite beautiful. The Duchess of Clairmont approached and took her husband’s arm and Lucy realized that the girl must be their daughter. She had the look of her mother who had been a diamond of the highest water in her time. Lady Lovell was beaming and Lucy realized that the parents were setting up a match between the younger personages.

  Her heart hurt and she brought a hand up to cover where it lay beneath her skin as if that would protect it. It should not matter to her. After all Aubrey needed to marry someone and beget heirs. Why not the daughter of a Duke?

  His intentions towards her were clear and again, why not? She had propositioned him after all, so he would take what she would give and then leave once more. What had she been thinking? How foolish of her to think that she would ever be able to cleave Aubrey St Clare from her heart.

  Lucy felt tears starting and blinked, not wanting to make a scene. She saw doors leading out to the back gardens. It was not wise for her to go out there alone, but perhaps it would be alright if she stayed near the door.

  A waltz started and she saw Aubrey bow to the blonde girl and lead her out to dance. She spun on her heel and headed for the doorway.

  The night air was much cooler than the stuffy ballroom. She put her gloved hands to her eyes, pressing against them to stop her tears. It would not do for her to give into despair once more.

  “What is this? Has your cavalier deserted you?” Lucy stiffened and lowered her hands. Rathburn stood in front of her, his handsome face disfigured by a smirk as he crowed at her distress.

  “I stepped outside for some fresh air. Please leave me alone.”

  “I think not. It would not do for me as a gentleman to leave such a sad lady alone. Why, any rogue might accost you.”

  “A rogue like you,” Lucy said rudely. She did not care about offending Rathburn, she just wanted him to go away.

  He chuckled, amused by her boldness. He had been watching her since she came into the ballroom, waiting for his chance. Rathburn had seen Lady Lovell approach her son and spirit him away. It would seem that she did not approve of the relationship between her son and Lady Lucilla Blount. That was an interesting thought that he tucked away for consideration at future time.

  “Lucy, Lucy, that is not the way a lady reacts to an offer of gallantry,” he cooed.

  “I did not give you leave to use my name, my lord. And if you will not go away, then I needs must.” She tried to pass by him, but he reached out and took her arm, holding her in place. She looked over his shoulder at the doorway to the ballroom. It would not do for anyone to see her here with him. The scandal last time had been tremendous and another one at this time would ruin Harriet's wedding.

  Lucy gritted her teeth. “Let go of me.”

  “I think not.” He tapped his chin with one slender finger, contemplating the woman in front of him. She was a rich prize even with her soiled reputation. “Obviously Lovell is not missing you, so who else is going to look for you? And you do not wish to create a fuss, do you? No, I think that perhaps we might stroll further down into the gardens.” He gripped her arm tighter as she tried to pull away.

  Lucy drew in a deep breath and stilled. Then she lifted her leg quickly, in the manner that her brother Richard had shown her. Her knee connected with the juncture of Rathburn’s thighs, right where a man was most susceptible. His eyes widened and he released her as he cupped himself where she had injured him.

  Lucy hurriedly passed by him and reentered the ballroom. She kept her head down and skirted around the room to the entry. Almost running she left, only stopping to leave a message for Harriet with one of the wigged footmen in the foyer.

  “I am not feeling well and must leave. I am taking the carriage but I will send it back for Baron Aversley and his party. Please tell Lady Harriet Everton from Lady Lucilla Blount.” She moved out into the cool night air and found the carriage waiting down the street.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Aubrey was in an abominable mood. It was bad enough that his mother had been at the ball last evening, transparently trying to match make. He had felt that he could not be rude to the Duke of Clairmont and had acceded to her less
than subtle machinations. He had even gone so far as to dance with Lady Clarissa, the Duke’s daughter. She was a pretty young thing, a typical English rose, and it was not her fault that he had been trapped into a dance with her. And she had conversed easily with him during their waltz, unlike many young ladies out for their first season. He was sure that she was quite the catch on the marriage mart.

  He kept searching for Lucy as he twirled around the room. She had disappeared, at least he could not find her. Harriet and George had danced by, Harriet giving him a frown when she saw him dancing with Lady Clarissa. When the dance ended he had handed her back to her parents with a bow and shrugged off his mother who was trying to keep him in their circle. He stalked the ballroom and had walked out onto the terrace where a few couples strolled back and forth in the light reflected from inside. Not finding Lucy there he had strode back into the ballroom to find Harriet and George.

  They were standing to one side, Thornton and Blakesley talking with them. But Lucy was not with them. He scanned the room again, hoping to find her among the dancers, but he could not see her dark hair anywhere.

  “Have you seen Lady Lucilla?” he asked the others, breaking into their conversation.

  “Lose her, did you?” Aubrey was in no mood for Blakesley’s humor and he gave him an impatient look.

  Harriet’s eyebrows went up and she glanced at George who shrugged. “Lady Lucilla went home. She was not feeling well. I thought that you must know already.”

  Aubrey felt his neck grow hot. Surely Lucy knew that he could not help the dance with Clarissa. It did not mean anything, he was just appeasing his mother. Then he smiled to himself. Perhaps she was jealous. She should know she had no reason to be, she was the only woman for him, but maybe this was a good thing. Or a bad thing if it gave her an excuse to not be with him. He could not decide.