The Regency Season_Convenient Marriages

by Sophia James

  No hidden meanings, no unexplained intentions. So like her to place things down like that. The danger intensified. But she was beside him now and parting the front of his shirt before reaching in.

  He waited, feeling the familiar instant spark, but nothing more. Still, the smell of her close and the soft curl of her hair held him captive and when she looked up it was easy to bring her into his arms.

  He could pleasure her. He could still do that. A new excitement clung to defeat. His body was not useless. It was well practised and most efficient at eliciting what a woman desired.

  Second nature. Understood. An authority and a master at the gentle arts of loving. Even if finally it was not enough, he knew he would try.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  She smiled and that was what did it, the happiness in her and the humour. He had never taken a woman to bed he truly liked... That truth left him astonished, but he shook it away and lifted her into his arms.

  This time he was careful, careful as he sat her down on his bed and slipped off her shoes, careful as he undid the ties of her bodice so that each loosened thread exposed the soft fabric of a chemise beneath.

  He had always relied on sex as a means of communication but here now it was the loving that he could give her. A different approach, softer, quieter, the feel of her skin, the rise of her flesh.

  One hand slipped inside the shell of lawn over her breast, feeling, exploring, his thumb against her nipple, moving quickly and then quicker again. She stiffened and arched and then stayed still, the bud he caressed proud and hard.

  Then the fabric lay pooled about her waist, the wide skirt of her gown beneath it, the candles on the mantel throwing her breasts into a mix of shadow and light.

  So very beautiful.

  And his.

  Dipping his head, he used his tongue, trailing a pathway along the side of her throat on to the collarbone and down to the plumpness before covering her nipple, his hands cupping the round and bringing her closer, the sweet taste in him as he shut his eyes.

  Always before he had been mindful. Of the armoire nearby. Of the small room off a bedchamber. Of the dangers and secrets of a house waiting to be discovered.

  But here, now, he thought of nothing save Adelaide, of her grace and her humour, of her bravery and acquiescence, of the way she made small noises to show him that what he did was beautiful and that she was grateful for it.

  A rush of sadness surprised him, the poignancy of all he had missed and all he had ruined there in that one moment of mindfulness, and then another thought that had him reeling.

  He loved her.

  He loved his wife.

  He loved Adelaide beyond reason and comprehension and he had done so since the first moment of meeting her.

  She was his for always, with her wit and her wisdom, with her smiles and her goodness and truth.

  He couldn’t remember ever feeling as if he was not the one in charge, he who had always easily been able to translate the needs of the feminine sex and give them exactly what they wanted.

  But now the rules seemed to have changed and instead of distance he was completely involved. Her skin against his own, the touch of flesh, her breath warm where his shirt fell open to bareness. The way her hair tickled his arms as it fell long and dark almost to her waist.

  She smelt of lemon, clean and fresh, the heavier perfumes of the ton washed away by lightness. He smiled into the scent, wanting it to fill him up with all of the things he hadn’t had much pleasure of in the capturing of secrets.

  Shaking his head, he laid his mouth against the beating vein in her throat. He had killed people by pressing down on such a spot and hardly a backward glance, another job, a further instruction.

  He had not told Adelaide all of it, but sometimes in the heart of lust there also lay the spectre of death—husbands who would betray a nation, brothers with treason in their eyes.

  He’d never made love before and been able to relax like this, never had the luxury of time and safety. His glance fell to the scars on his hand, disfigured against the beauty of her.

  He would never be perfect, but he could not let Adelaide go. Rising, he caught her chin and covered her mouth with a groan of both ownership and surrender.

  * * *

  This kiss was different, Adelaide thought, intense and deeper, like words that he could not as yet say.

  Oh, but how she wanted him, closer, naked, lying with her on a bed of moonlight and showing her exactly what it was she needed.

  ‘Gabriel?’

  He glanced up, eyes unguarded, pools of gold and the ends of tawny-and-red curls falling across his face. In London she had thought he looked like a hardened angel, but tonight she could easily see the vulnerability and the sadness clinging to a ragged edge of hope.

  ‘I want you,’ she said, then as his hands found the hem of her dress and rose upward she forgot to think at all.

  * * *

  She woke alone, in her own room in her own bed, a sprig of lavender lying across the pillow. She was naked, she knew that even as her fingers went to the place that her husband’s had been, the secret warmth beating and a wetness there she had not known before.

  No wonder Gabriel Hughes’s name was whispered in the way that she had heard it, with reverence and intrigue and plain pure want.

  I want you.

  She remembered moaning his name again and again as he had taken her to the stars and the moon and the heavens with his clever fingers and his soothing mouth. And after he had placed one hand across her stomach and another behind her.

  ‘Can you feel that?’ When he had pressed down the echoes of what had been became stronger, the heel of his hand low and deep. ‘With touch a climax can be extended. Claim it, Adelaide, for me.’

  And she had, rising against his palm and arching as ecstasy beached across her, deeper this time and longer, wringing the life from any pride she still had left, the sensation of heat and release making her float until her body was nothing but feeling and vibration.

  My God, she had barely recognised the woman she had become. He could have done anything at all to her and she would have welcomed it, her, the paragon of spinsterhood and common sense and good manners.

  Turning into the pillow, she hid her face, wondering about the smile that tugged at her lips and made her giggle.

  Gabriel Hughes, the fourth Earl of Wesley, was hers for ever. Nights of lust under moonlight for the rest of her life. And yet worry blossomed beneath the realisation. What of him? How had he found his pleasure in what they had done? She had barely touched him and he had not wanted her to, either. She remembered running her hand up his inner thigh, but he had captured her fingers and laid them instead upon her breast, wetting them with his mouth so that the heat and the cold made her shiver and then understand.

  In the opposites one could find fulfilment. He had been gentle and then rough as his teeth had come where her fingers rested, and the edge of pain had also become the edge of pleasure.

  She stilled in order to concentrate on the throb that began to beat with just her thoughts. She wanted him again and again, here and now, in the sunlight and the morning, her legs splayed apart as her fingers sought the flesh swollen from his touch.

  Desperate. Had he made her that? With his expertise and his learning. There were no tears at such a thought, but only the beating, dancing delight of anticipation and desire.

  * * *

  Adelaide heard voices as she came down the stairs an hour later and her hands fisted at her sides. In this state of mind she had no want to deal with strangers, though as she listened more carefully she realised it was Lord and Lady Montcliffe.

  Would they know? Could they tell? Was there some understanding between married people that she had not known of before, some secret club, some untold confidence? She had hidden
the marks Gabriel had left upon her body under a swathe of lace about her neck, but she knew in her eyes and on her face there would be glimmers of all she remembered. She could not even look at her husband as she came into the room, but smiled as Amethyst Wylde took her hand.

  ‘I hope you don’t mind our intrusion, Adelaide. Daniel had to come this way to see about a horse and so we chanced it and dropped in for he had some news to share with Gabriel.’

  ‘I am glad you came for it is lovely to see you.’ And it was, she thought, for these people were interesting and generous and warm. She included Daniel Wylde in the comment as they sat down again, glad when the men left Amethyst and her to converse alone.

  ‘Christine Howard said I was to give you her love and to say that the lotion you made for her mother seems to be doing the trick.’

  ‘I suppose I should have made some up for Gabriel’s mother, too, for she seems most unhappy.’

  ‘Oh, that will be all due to his sister’s problems. I have only met Charlotte Hughes briefly and she was a beautiful but bitter woman. It seems the man she had met in Edinburgh was already married according to Lucien’s mother and so she is coming back to London.’

  Adelaide was glad she was not venturing north to Ravenshill Manor instead. She wanted a few weeks to understand what marriage was about without others staying in the small annex with Gabriel and her.

  ‘Is this the news you said that Daniel brought with him?’

  ‘No. it was something else entirely.’ By the brief flare in her eyes Adelaide knew Amethyst did not wish to divulge the matter.

  Daniel had also asked her something from the other side of the room and, looking over at him, her eyes collided with pale gold, the humour in them so at odds with the complete embarrassment in her own.

  ‘I’m sorry...?’

  Lord Wylde repeated his words.

  ‘I was thinking that married life appears to agree with you, Adelaide, and with Gabriel.’

  He was teasing, she knew, but a wash of red covered her face before she could stop it and for one moment she even thought she might burst into tears. My God, what was happening to her? She had always been able to cope with conversations and challenges and yet here she was after one wondrous night unable to find her equilibrium.

  Gabriel saved her by standing and drawing attention back to himself. ‘Daniel is here to look at a horse at Colton House. I’d heard about the stud, but I have not been up there.’

  ‘Come with us, then. I would value your opinion of the animal, Gabe. We need not be long.’

  ‘Would you like that, Adelaide?’ Her husband’s full glance was upon her now but it was gentle, giving her the choice of whether they went or not.

  ‘I would. Is Colton far?’

  ‘No. Only forty or so minutes away. There is a tavern nearby, too, that has an excellent luncheon.’

  Amethyst looked more than pleased. ‘We’ll have a short walk together whilst the men look over the livestock. The day is beautiful after all and I have a need for exercise after the carriage ride for my back is hurting me.’

  Daniel looked a little concerned. ‘The doctor said you were not to overdo things, Amethyst...’

  Lady Montcliffe laughed. ‘Wait until you are pregnant, Adelaide. My husband has turned into a fussy mother hen who would like to wrap me in cotton wool and keep me from doing anything. Do not worry, my dearest. This child is at least a month away yet. We women know these things.’ Her hands lay on the bulge beneath her skirts and her voice was warm—a beautiful Madonna who understood the power of her imminent motherhood very well.

  Adelaide chanced a glance at Gabriel and was astonished at the look that lay so visibly in his eyes. Regret. Longing. Or just plain uncertainty. She could not quite decide.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The stud farm was large but well laid out and as the men went to the stables with the lord of the house, the two women struck out down a pathway overshadowed by weeping willow trees, the lime-green colour of their leaves in the light astonishing.

  ‘I’d heard the gardens here were beautiful, but I did not expect them to be so marvellous,’ Amethyst said. ‘Lord Herbert has no wife so it must be he who professes an interest in plantings as well as horseflesh.’ She laughed. ‘He seemed a good man. Perhaps Christine Howard might come with us next time.’

  ‘If you are matchmaking, it seldom works, I hear.’ Adelaide gave this advice with a smile.

  ‘Well, do not be certain about that. Papa was the one who chose Daniel for me and that has been most satisfactory. My father was ill, you see, and thought he had not long to live.’

  * * *

  The next quarter of an hour was spent on the story behind such a statement and Adelaide was delighted by Amethyst’s honesty. She had heard a little of it whilst in London, but the truth of what had transpired was both funny and poignant.

  ‘So your father is still managing with his heart complaint?’

  ‘Brilliantly. He seldom is in bed and his new wife, bless her, is the sort who refuses to believe he is sick anyway. As his desire is to have as many grandchildren as he has the luck to meet I am doing my best to make his wishes come true.’

  ‘Your other child is only young, isn’t she?’

  ‘Sapphire is almost ten months old. She is a beautiful little girl who—’

  Amethyst suddenly clutched her side and paled considerably, breathing out with quiet deliberation as she bent over. A stab of worry had Adelaide taking her hand; the pulse at her wrist was racing and she felt clammy though the fingers wrapped tightly about her own.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Adelaide knew that she wasn’t even as she asked the question.

  ‘I need to...sit...down.’ Her voice was breathless and shallow, a gust of wind making her teeth chatter as she collapsed against a small bank.

  There was only grass and dirt to sit on and Amethyst Wylde had begun to shake quite badly. From fear and shock, Adelaide thought, her own mind turning over possibilities as to what was wrong and what might happen next.

  The gush of water gave her that answer and Amethyst began to cry. ‘I can’t have the baby now... I need Daniel...’ She stopped speaking as the first contraction came, concentrating on the new pains that racked her.

  Oh, my God, Adelaide thought. She will have the baby here and I am the only one around to help in the delivery. Her mind could not quite believe what was happening, but she had enough sense not to panic. One of them had to remain calm if this was going to turn out as she hoped and they were too far away from the house for anyone to hear her even if she did cry for help.

  No, it was up to her. She was all there was. Without hesitation she stripped off her wide skirt and tucked it about Amethyst’s shoulders as both a blanket and a cushion. Amethyst Wylde needed warmth and she needed reassurance and she, Adelaide Ashfield, was damned well going to give it to her. Adelaide Wesley, she amended as she removed her petticoats. She would need cloth to wipe down the baby and to wrap it. The soft, clean lawn was exactly right.

  Unexpectedly Amethyst smiled as she saw what was happening.

  ‘I...am...sorry...Adelaide.’ Her teeth clattered together as she spoke. ‘If you want to leave me and get someone else...’

  ‘There is no time and besides I am more than capable of delivering this baby. You have absolutely nothing to worry about.’

  Fright warred with strength inside her but, even though she had never attended a birth, her aunts had always had much to say on the subject. Lifting up Amethyst’s skirts, she placed her hands on the taut belly.

  ‘This is Nature working at its most efficient, you see, and babies that come quickly are usually delivered with ease. Was your first birth quick, too?’

  ‘Yes. It was f-f-fast and furious.’ Cold hands tightened across her own. ‘Please stay with me, Adelaide. I could not do it alone
and I am scared.’

  ‘Of course I am going nowhere. And look, the sun is out. Your baby will be born into a grotto of green and yellow. I think that is a sign of well-being and harmony and just think of the story you will be able to tell your papa.’

  Things happened both quickly and slowly after that. Adelaide had no true sense of time as the contractions came closer together and then suddenly the child was in her hands, his eyes opening, a breath and then a lusty cry.

  ‘A little boy,’ she told Amethyst, who was trying to raise herself on her elbows to see. ‘And he is perfect.’

  After checking his mouth and nose and wrapping the baby in the lawn she placed him on Amethyst’s chest, making sure the cord was not ruptured and then beginning to massage her stomach.

  Five moments later the placenta was delivered and the bleeding stopped completely. For the first time in over an hour Adelaide took a breath that was normal and looked over at her charges.

  Both looked peaceful now, the dappled light across them, the tiny hands of the infant pummelling against its mother’s flesh as he suckled, dark hair at his nape still wet from birth.

  My God, she had done it. She had brought a child into the world and helped his mother. A joy she had not felt before rushed through her as she wiped her hands against the fabric in her bodice and pushed back her loosened hair.

  * * *

  Gabriel found his wife with her hair down, her skirts missing and blood across her face and hands. But it was Daniel’s cry that truly alerted him to what had happened as he crouched near his wife and lifted her up to him.

  A baby. A birth.

  ‘Adelaide helped me. She did...everything.’ Amethyst Wylde had burst straight into tears and was now clinging to her husband. The servant behind was dispatched to the house to bring a dray and quickly.

  ‘I am certain they will both be fine.’ Adelaide stood up from where she had sat and Gabriel’s arm went to steady her. ‘The baby cried immediately and then began to feed, so although it is early I do not think there will be a problem.’