The bishop looked faintly surprised. “A most unusual friendship!” he exclaimed. “I doubt many baronesses include solicitors among their circle of acquaintances. How egalitarian you are, Lady Morgan,” he added, with a bit of a sneer.
Letitia flushed. She had not stopped to consider her friendship with Mr. Markham before now, and today she was being forced to examine it not once, but twice. But while Isobel had only made her realize it was rather unusual, the bishop managed to convey that it was somehow improper.
She imagined that some people, her cousin in particular, might be shocked by a friendship with a solicitor, but she herself could conceive of no reason why she should not associate with a man of such obvious gentility as Mr. Markham. She opened her mouth to respond, but was amazed to note that Mr. Markham had transformed himself utterly. A look of distinct hauteur covered his face, transforming him from her amiable, if exceptionally handsome, friend, into a figure of glacial authority.
“Lady Morgan has been kind enough to honor me with her friendship,” he said, his voice very soft, yet somehow menacing. “I would hesitate to imply that she could ever make a poor choice in the matter of her associations. Do you mean to say that you feel her judgment is faulty?”
The bishop felt inexplicably uncomfortable. The man he was facing was a mere solicitor, while he was not only the scion of a noble family, but a high-ranking churchman as well. Still, he was being made to feel not only ill at ease, but also as though he had committed some sort of faux pas. This was impossible; no solicitor was a fit judge of how he, Dr. Wolfe, Bishop of Mainwaring should behave.
“I meant no such thing, of course,” he said, a bit too hastily. He paused and caught his breath. There was no reason to let this fellow get the best of him. “However, I think that you, sir, might consider the damage your acquaintance with the lady might do her reputation.”
“I was unaware that speaking to a man of business in a public place was likely to incur the wrath of Society,” said Mr. Markham. “Although I am not well-acquainted with the customs pertaining in tonnish circles, I thought that a lady was known by her breeding and taste and not by the tales of gossips.”
“Naturally gossip must not be listened to,” sputtered the bishop. “But an inappropriate friendship can present a very odd appearance indeed.”
“A friendship is only inappropriate if one needs to be ashamed of it,” said Mr. Markham. “Are you ashamed of me, Lady Morgan?” he asked, turning to Letitia.
He saw a smile leap into her eyes. “Not at all, Mr. Markham,” she replied.
“There you have it,” said Mr. Markham, directing a cold look at the bishop. “I believe Lady Morgan will accept your apology now.”
“I am of course very sorry if I have offended Lady Morgan,” said the bishop, with a bow to her. “I did not mean to imply that she was lacking in judgment. I simply have a concern for her happiness and a regard for her person.”
“Then we share the same sentiments,” said Mr. Markham. “A happy occurrence.”
James came running up, having perceived the presence of his great friend. “Mr. Markham!” he said. “Do come play with us.”
A smile broke through the stern look on Mr. Markham's face. “I would be happy to, James,” he said. With a small bow to Letitia and a nod to the bishop, he took the boy's hand in his and walked away.
“Upon my word,” exclaimed Dr. Wolfe. “What a very strange sort of solicitor he is.”
“I beg your pardon?” said Letitia.
“Your friend does not behave like other solicitor I have encountered,” continued the bishop.
“I am aware that he is much younger than most solicitors I know,” ventured Letitia, “but there must be many others his age.”
“My dear Lady Morgan,” said Dr. Wolfe, his self-importance now thoroughly re-inflated, “no solicitor of my acquaintance would speak to me in such a way. His lack of concern for your standing is quite reprehensible.”
Letitia frowned. “I believe we have already discussed this notion of yours that there is something not entirely respectable about my association with Mr. Markham,” she said. “We are casual acquaintances, and I appreciate his advice and support. There is really nothing to worry about.”
The bishop opened his mouth to respond and paused. It was apparent that Lady Morgan was unaware of exactly how unusual her friend's behavior had been, and she quite obviously took exception to his objecting to her acquaintance with him.
Dr. Wolfe’s understanding was not great nor was his sensitivity to the feelings of others strong, but he had a powerful sense of his own value, and Mr. Markham's behavior had offended him deeply. His friendship with the woman Dr. Wolfe had decided he would wed was likewise annoying. Still, there would be plenty of time after he had married Lady Morgan to wean her away from her unsuitable friends.
It did not occur to the bishop that his marriage to Lady Morgan might not take place; it had been arranged between him and her cousin, and therefore was certain to occur. Bainstall had assured him that she was kind and biddable, and to the bishop’s delight she was very beautiful.
If she showed signs of possessing a mind of her own, that was due to her single state, and simply a clear sign that she was in need of a husband. She would soon rely on him for her every opinion. To argue with his future wife about a mere solicitor was not only unseemly but also uncomfortable.
“Very well, dear Lady Morgan,” said the bishop. “We will speak of it no more. I am sure that soon you will no longer have need of Mr. Markham's advice. You know you may rely on me, do you not?”
“What?” asked Letitia, who had been watching James and Mr. Markham. “Oh, yes, certainly. I greatly appreciate your concern for me.”
The bishop beamed at her. “I understand that you need guidance,” he said. “Be assured that I will be glad to assist you.”
“I thank you, sir,” said Letitia, thinking what a very silly man he was. The likelihood of her turning to him for advice was almost nonexistent.
Eynsford, although giving some of his attention to James, was also pondering the situation. He watched surreptitiously as the bishop chatted merrily to Lady Morgan. What a fool, he thought savagely. That Lady Morgan should have to support the attentions of that stout, blithering idiot was offensive to him. It was abundantly clear that Letitia was being courted, and he was equally aware that she was not interested.
Phillip wished very much that he could let the bishop know exactly who he was, but circumstances made this difficult. He knew he had already come perilously close to revealing himself; he had acted as no solicitor would, and, although Lady Morgan had apparently not remarked on it, he was certain that Dr. Wolfe had though his behavior odd. Let him, Eynsford thought angrily.
“I must be going, James,” he said rather abruptly. “I will see you another day.” Crossing over to where Letitia sat he said his farewells to her and to Dr. Wolfe rather stiffly. He thought he detected a worried look on Lady Morgan's face, and attempted to reassure her by giving her hand a gentle squeeze as he bent over it.
He stalked back to where he had left Chisholm and his curricle, his thoughts in considerable turmoil. The idea that the bishop would return to Letitia’s house with her made him livid. He had no fear that she would show him the same favor she did Mr. Markham, but the mental picture of the bishop sitting next to Letitia in her drawing room, where Mr. Markham had shared so many delightful moments with her, horrified him. The mere thought that Lady Morgan might be courted by anyone else made him furious. And yet, he reflected, why should that be? He was not courting her himself.
Chisholm watched Eynsford approach with a sinking heart. It was evident to him that his master was in a towering rage, and this impression was confirmed when this lordship mounted the curricle without a word and directed the horses out of the gardens at a rapid pace.
They had not driven for many minutes, when Phillip slowed the pace of the curricle. Chisholm, accustomed to his lordship’s usual rate of speed, gave him a
quizzical look and saw that the marquess was gazing out over his horses’ heads, a distracted expression covering his face. Before the groom could question him, however, he abruptly turned the horses and headed back toward Kensington Gardens. Chisholm grimaced, but held his tongue.
Phillip entered the gardens, his face now blank of emotion, and pulled up abruptly. He tossed the reins to Chisholm, who grunted.
“You needn’t tell me,” he said. “You’ll be some time, I’m thinking.”
Eynsford nodded, the smallest glimmer of a smile on his face, and climbed down from the curricle. He walked quickly back to where he had left Letty and the bishop, but the bench was empty, and the children were nowhere to be seen. He turned his steps towards her house, and, as he approached, saw to his relief that the bishop and his daughters were descending the steps. He paused and waited as Dr. Wolfe hailed a hackney cab, and the little party climbed into it. As it slowly trundled away, Phillip walked towards the house, his steps slowing as he realized the foolishness of his behavior. But the need to see Letty was overwhelming, and he finally mounted the steps and rapped on the door.
Nellie opened the door, and when she saw who stood there a flicker of surprise, hastily suppressed, came into her eyes.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Markham,” she said.
Eynsford stepped into the hallway, and Nellie obligingly took his hat. “I’ll tell Lady Morgan you’re here,” she said quietly.
“Thank you,” said Phillip, the awkwardness of the moment becoming increasingly apparent to him.
He waited until Nellie re-appeared and escorted him to the drawing room, where Letitia sat in a chair, her embroidery in her hand. She glanced up, surprise, but also pleasure on her face.
“Mr. Markham, how kind of you to visit me,” she said. She glanced at the maid. “You may go, Nellie. I will ring if we have need of anything.”
Nellie departed with a curtsey and a curious glance, closing the door behind her. Letitia glanced up at him inquiringly.
“Was there something you needed, Mr. Markham?” she asked.
Phillip paused, feeling faintly foolish and unable to articulate the emotions that had brought him back to her home. He drew a deep breath.
“I had to come back. I—I couldn’t bear the thought of him touching you,” he said abruptly.
Letty’s eyes widened. “Do you mean Dr. Wolfe? What makes you think I allow him to touch me?” she asked, her voice suddenly cold. “Do you think I share my favor freely simply because I have allowed you to take liberties with me?”
“I didn’t think you allowed that to Dr. Wolfe,” responded Phillip, an edge in his voice. “Indeed, I know you that you would not. But the thought that he can sit next to you, escort you to the park, and presume that he has the right to your smiles and attention—I cannot tolerate it.”
Letty blinked in surprise. “I am merely being polite to Dr. Wolfe. He is a friend of my cousin, and it would not do for me not to receive him.”
Phillip gritted his teeth. He was dimly aware that his behavior must be deeply confusing to Letitia, who surely wondered why the mild-mannered solicitor she had befriended now appeared to be so offended by the encroachment of Dr. Wolfe.
After all, Mr. Markham had no special claim to Lady Morgan’s time or attention. But the thought of her being courted by another man made him quiver with frustration. She was a widow after all. She had given in to Mr. Markham very easily. Perhaps she would give into others as well.
He stepped forward and grasped her shoulders, not roughly, but firmly, and raised her to her feet. She gazed up at him, slightly surprised, but not frightened. “Phillip?” she said softly.
In response he took her lips in a slow, drugging kiss, a kiss driven by a sense of possession that he had not previously experienced and that startled him with it power. Letty gave a little gasp of surprise, but responded readily, opening her lips to his, readily giving him access to the warmth of her mouth. He deepened the kiss, sliding his hands down her back to grasp her bottom, drawing her tightly against the growing bulge in his breeches. She made a little mewing sound of pleasure and raised her hands to cradle his head, drawing him down to her, rising on her toes to meet his passion.
Phillip growled deep in his throat and gathered the delicate muslin of her skirts in one hand, bunching it roughly together and raising it hastily until he could cup one tender buttock. He kissed his way down the column of her throat to the soft skin of her chest, licking and teasing as he did so. Letty continued to hold his head with one hand, but the other slid down to tug at the neckline of her dress, until one rosy breast was exposed.
Phillip made a sound, half laugh, half groan, and took the tip of it in to mouth, suckling and nipping as her nipple tightened and distended. At the same he slid his hand downward, to reach up between her legs to tease at the curls that covered her sex. Instinctively she moved her thighs apart, and, pausing for one moment to tease the nub of desire he found there, Phillip plunged a finger into her warm channel.
“God, you’re wet already,” he muttered, his mouth still clinging to her breast. “You’re so warm, and so welcoming.” He raised his head and gazed into her eyes as he inserted a second finger, slowly stretching her. “Is it only for me?”
Letty’s gaze met his, slightly dazed as waves of desire spread from his fingers buried deeply inside her. “What?” she asked.
“This,” he said, his fingers moving deeply insider her, his thumb gently massaging the center of her desire. He lowered his head and nipped at her nipple again, drawing a low moan out of her. “Do you save this only for me?”
“It is only for you,” she breathed, almost overcome. “I would have you all the time if I could.”
“Can you feel what the does to me?” he asked, knowing that his erection, already straining at his breeches, had grown even harder at his words.
“Mmmm, I can,” said Letty rotating her hips against him, enjoying the feel of his hardness against her stomach as well as his fingers inside her. “Phillip, I need to feel it inside me. Now.”
“In a minute,” said Phillip. “I’m not sure you’re ready yet.” Not waiting to be gentle, he inserted a third finger into her slick passage and she gave a tiny cry, sagging against him as her legs lost their strength. He steadied her with his other arm, gazing at her face as she gave in fully to the sensations he was creating inside her. He felt the first tiny clenchings of her climax and, with one last tender stroke, he withdrew his hand from her and let her skirts fall back down to cover her legs. Her eyes flew open and she looked up at him, startled.
“I was so close,” she murmured, still dazed.
“I know, darling,” said Phillip. “But when you shatter I want to be deep inside you.” He steadied her against the back of a chair upholstered in blue silk and slowly let go of her. “Can you stand?” he asked.
She nodded uncertainly, but then watched with a great deal of attention as he unbuttoned the placket of his breeches and his erection sprang free, hard and long. She licked her lips and reached out, touching its velvety strength, and caressing it gently.
“Do you want that?” Phillip asked softly.
Letty nodded. “Oh, yes,” she said.
Phillip couldn’t help himself. “Do you want only me?” he demanded.
Letty stared at his erection as though transfixed. “Yes, only you,” she promised.
“Then you shall have me,” he promised. He took her shoulders in his hands again and turned her, urging her to bend over the upholstered back. Letty made a sound of surprise, but then seemed to understand what he intended, for she reached behind her and gathered her skirts in both hands and raised them swiftly, exposing her splendid white bottom. She spread her legs invitingly and canted her hips up toward him, one hand continuing to hold her skirt up at her waist, the other bracing herself against the chair. She looked over her shoulder, smiling invitingly, and slowly rotated her hips.
“I’m ready, sir,” she breathed.
Phillip growled ag
ain, stepped forward and, grasping her hips with both hands, plunged into her without preamble or hesitation. Letty cried out as he filled her completely and paused a moment, gently moving his hips against her bottom, one hand reaching around to pluck at her breast. “You should be quiet,” he said. “Or everyone will know about us.”
“I don’t care,” she said heatedly. “I need you here. I need you all the time.”
Phillip drew out very slowly as she made tiny, panting sounds of protest and then plunged in again, hard and fast. “Is this what you need?” he asked.
“Yes,” said Letty faintly, feeling an odd sensation of being both fully sated and desiring much more. She moved her hips questioningly, seeking greater contact as he slid out once more and pushed in again, filling her until she thought she could take no more.
“More,” she insisted.
Phillip laughed deep in his throat and set up a steady rhythm, plunging into her as deeply as he could with each stroke, listening with pleasure to the gasp of delight she let out at the crest of each. He stoked her fire patiently until he could sense her trembling on the brink of orgasm, and then moved more quickly as the tiny tremors in her passage tightened around him. Finally she let go, and as a cry was wrung from her throat, he slid one hand gently over her mouth, hoping to in some way disguise what was happening in Lady Morgan’s drawing room. She spasmed around him, gasping and calling his name, and he let himself go, releasing himself into her warmth as he groaned deeply.
Silence and the scent of their lovemaking filled the room, and, after some minutes, Phillip reluctantly pulled out of Letty. She gave a tiny moan of disappointment as her slowly raised her from the chair and her slid down to cover her.
“That was—amazing,” she said. “Not that it hasn’t been before but that was different somehow.”
Phillip gazed down at her, startled by the emotions he had just experienced. He realized that Letitia roused in him more than mere desire, but he hastily put the thought aside, and gently slid one finger under chin, tipping her face up towards him. He kissed her tenderly.
An Indecent Charade: Letitia's After Dark Regency Romance Page 13