Considering that this collection had been locked up tight in a room normally occupied by men, it was possible that Grandmama would be just as shocked as she was to see them. But unless she wanted to risk hearing stories about her grandparents that were even more hair-raising than usual, it would be best not to ask.
She glanced to the man at her side, trying to guess if he wished her to be curious or horrified. At last, she decided to attempt to bluff. ‘I have no idea what these are,’ she said quickly. ‘But if you wish to enter them into the inventory...’
‘You have no idea,’ he said, giving her a dubious look. ‘If you admit to not knowing something, it will be the first time in history. It will also be a lie. I doubt, after the books you have been reading, that there is a gap in your education the size of this.’ He picked up one of the smaller pieces and weighed it in his hands.
She was supposed to be shocked. But it was overcome by her curiosity as to the accuracy of the carving, and the size, which still seemed overly large compared to pictures she had seen.
When she did not answer him, he continued. ‘Far be it from me to allow you to continue in ignorance, especially after what you have requested from me. The thing I am holding is what the French call a consolateur. I have also heard the euphemism, widow’s comforter. In New England, the whalers call it a “he’s at home”. They give them to their wives to keep them from having just the sort of ideas you have been having about me.’
‘Really,’ she said faintly.
‘Indeed,’ he said, then glanced at the contents of the cabinet and gestured towards the back row. ‘Though the man who carved that one on the left either had a very high opinion of himself or a problem with carving to scale.’
‘Of course,’ she said, dropping her gaze so as not to be caught staring at the thing. ‘That is what I suspected.’
‘My question for you would be—have you considered putting such an item to its intended use?’
‘You should not...’
‘Ask you such a personal question,’ he said, finishing her sentence with a knowing smile. ‘Proof that I should not take your maidenhead. If I were to ask such a thing, our spirits should be so closely aligned that there is nothing left that we cannot speak of.’
‘But we hardly know each other,’ she whispered.
‘And that is precisely the problem, my pet. You are actively seeking a lover who is a virtual stranger to you and who will leave you soon after. And I do not understand the reason for it.’
He stepped closer, until his lips were barely inches from hers, as if readying for another kiss. ‘You deserve a man who will stay with you because he cannot imagine being happy anywhere else but in your arms.’
Perhaps it was true. But she did not want that man. She wanted the one standing before her now. ‘But what if no such man exists?’ she said. ‘Am I to go my entire life without ever knowing physical love?’
‘If that is your concern, we must satisfy your curiosity in a way that does not make me—how did you describe it?—scatter my seed unheeding of the consequences.’ He gripped the carved ivory in one hand and stroked it with the other before drawing it across her bare shoulder until it settled into the cleft of her bosom. Then he stroked.
She gasped as her nipples tightened at the feel of it, hard, smooth and cool against her skin.
He spoke as he continued to move it, dipping deeper and deeper into her bodice. ‘There are advantages for both of us, should you be interested in seeking relief this way. The need for contraceptives, and the fear of their unreliability, would be rendered nil. And when I go, it will lessen my guilt at taking something that should not belong to me.’
‘If you mean my body, it is mine to give or deny and not something that belongs to the first man who enters me,’ she said, trying to think past the tight feeling in her belly and the wetness spreading between her legs.
‘A true statement,’ he agreed. ‘But men have developed curious ideas on the matter and I find it hard to cast them off just because one woman wants to be reasonable. If I bed you and leave, I will feel guilty.’
‘You don’t—’
He stopped her argument with a kiss on the mouth. When it ended, she was too breathless to speak.
He had no such problem and continued. ‘There is also the very real possibility that I will make a mess of it. I have a history of doing so in other parts of my life. And though I know perfectly well how to satisfy a woman, I have no experience with virgins. There can be only one first time. If yours is horrible, there will be no one to blame for that but me.’
‘That could be true of any man I lie with,’ she argued. ‘Should I wait until marriage and the first time be unpleasant, I doubt my husband will be driven by guilt to a lifetime of abstention. If I decide I do not like it, I will be instructed to make the best of it and that will be that.’ She was speaking faster than normal, driven by some strange sense of urgency to arrive at wherever it was he was trying to take her.
‘True,’ he agreed, sensing her need and speaking slower. ‘But that does not make it right. And we are not talking of some hypothetical fellow you have not yet met. We are speaking of me. If you do not enjoy what happens, it would trouble me.’
‘If that is how you feel, then I am sorry that I asked it of you.’ If he did decide against making love to her, he could at least stop teasing her and leave her alone, before she burst into tears of frustration. ‘Forget I suggested it. Do not give it another thought.’ She pinched her lips together to keep herself from begging for release and readied herself to jump down from the table.
Before she could escape, he caught her by the hips, pinning her in place, and dragged the phallus down the outside of her thigh. ‘Stop thinking of it? Since you asked, I have been able to think of little else. But I have not been able to convince myself that it is a good idea.’ She felt hard ivory sliding down her leg and something else, almost as hard, pressing between her legs, where their bodies touched.
‘This, however?’ He rubbed her ankle, below the hem of her gown. ‘Harmless pleasure.’
‘I have no intention of using that thing on myself,’ she said, trying to squirm away from him.
‘I do not expect you to,’ he said, leaning forward and kissing the shell of her ear. He let out a breath, slow and hot, blowing down the side of her neck. His teeth brushing the spot he had threatened before.
She gave an involuntary whimper of pleasure as her body readied itself for the sudden release she felt when she touched herself in the privacy of her room, late at night.
He recognised it for what it was and lowered his head to run his tongue over the tops of her breasts as the ivory dipped under her petticoat, dragging her skirts up to her knees.
His fingers were tugging on her bodice, pulling it down. Cool air touched her nipples, followed by hot breath and then the teeth he had promised. ‘Magnificent.’ The word was murmured against her flesh and followed by a nip and a long, slow draw. Her back arched and her hand cupped the back of his neck, holding his mouth against her.
The sensation was indescribable. Perhaps he was right and they did not need to lie together after all. Surely this was as wonderful as it was possible to feel. Then, the comforter in his hand was pushing her skirts up to her waist. The smooth ivory shaft traced a line up the inside of her leg, pausing when it reached the top of her stocking to rub the naked skin above it.
Her legs twitched to squeeze his hips, ready to close on anything that was between them. He gave her a knowing smile and stepped closer. She could feel his arousal pressing against her, faintly amazed that she had caused it. The world could not be as grim as she thought it if a man like this wanted her, even a little.
He continued to smile, staring into her eyes as the hard thing in his hand continued its progress up her thigh, pushing between her legs, the tip sliding in the wetness pooling there, touching her as she touched herself. She could feel th
e tension building in her and the nearness of release. He’d had no need to worry about pleasing her. It would be good.
He spoke, in a strange, husky whisper, as if sharing a secret. ‘My only regret will be that I cannot look into your eyes as it happens.’
Her brow furrowed. There was no need for regret. If he waited as he was for just a moment, it would all be over.
Then he dropped to his knees and kissed her.
As his tongue touched the sensitive bud at her core, she felt pressure against the opening to her body, the pain of stretched skin and then the inexorable slide of cold and hard against the soft, hot, wet insides of her.
She screamed.
She could not help herself. After, there was a flash of fear that he might think it was from pain and stop to ask if she was all right. He must not stop, not ever, lest she die of disappointment. Or perhaps it was the pleasure that would kill her, for she was shattering under the onslaught of his kiss and the strokes of unyielding ivory against her quivering flesh.
She panted. She moaned. Her hands tore at her clothing, palms rubbing against her breasts, hips thrusting against his mouth. Was she trying to help, or trying to fight what was happening? She was not sure. But his hand pinned her to hold her still, his teeth grazed her skin and he thrust harder, faster and deeper.
She cried out again as she broke, mind empty of all but him, body conquered, yet triumphant.
His mouth stilled. He withdrew. She felt the stubble of his cheek against the skin of her thigh as he pressed a final kiss, just above her garter.
She stared up at the ceiling, too weak to lift her head, which was heavy and yet so light that it could have been full of sunshine. She could hear him rock back on his heels and the rustle of satin as he pulled her skirts down to cover her legs, stroking her knee though the fabric.
‘I must leave you now.’
She sat up so quickly that the room spun around her, as if, in the few minutes they had been together, it had come unhinged from its axis and wobbled loose in the firmament. ‘Leave? No!’
‘If the servants come in answer to your cry, we must not be found together.’ He turned his face from her, as if afraid a single glance might change his mind. ‘I will see you at breakfast.’ He took a deep breath. ‘But right now...I have to go.’
Without another word, he hurried from the room.
Chapter Twelve
The next morning, she was still shaken by what had happened. Potts had been right. Chilson appeared shortly after he had gone, to assure himself that nothing was the matter. She had made some lie about a mouse running across her slipper, which, of course, explained why she was still sitting on the billiards table in shock.
The always discreet Chilson accepted the explanation as gospel. Both of them ignored the fact that she had never screamed at a mouse in her life. If she had seen one, she was far more likely to summon him requesting a small cage, a bit of seed bun and a thimbleful of water. Since his gaze never left her face, she was reasonably sure he had not seen the thing that had actually made her cry out, which had been dropped on the floor when her lover had run away.
Her lover.
Even if she did not say the words, the thought put a giddy grin on her face. She was quite sure she and Potts were lovers now. The lack of conventional coitus was a mere technicality. It was also one that might be rectified with just a bit more encouragement. Potts had proved a most inventive and unselfish partner. It was only polite that she return the favour he had done her.
He wanted her.
This was also unexpected. When she had first asked him to relieve her of her virginity, she had imagined that copulation for men was an instinctive act that would not be refused when offered. His immediate rejection made her suspect that the choice of partner mattered. If he had no taste for her, it was not surprising. She had not expected him to. She had assumed that the act of lying with her would be done out of pity and a masculine desire for release.
But the things he had done last night had been done solely for her pleasure. The thing that Shakespeare had called a dildo was now tucked between the ropes of her mattress and the rest of its fellows were locked away in their cabinet. She was still not sure that she could use such a thing again without embarrassment. But she had done several things that night that she had not thought herself capable of and did not feel the least bit ashamed this morning.
He had not only put her needs ahead of his own, he had taken some time in contemplating how best they could be met and worried about whether he would hurt or disappoint her if he failed. And in doing what he had done in the way he had done it, he had opened the door to what was probably a wide range of activities he would have deemed ‘harmless pleasure’.
But he had denied these things for himself to preserve her reputation. He had hurried away to avoid possible repercussions afterwards, even though she suspected that there were things he might have liked for her to do for him. The matter required discussion, education and, hopefully, a great deal of practical experimentation.
When Dill arrived, they chose a pale rose day gown that was positively frivolous. The long white sleeves were caught up with ribbons at multiple points on her arms and the bodice was finished with a sheer chemisette that did little to conceal the bosom he had called magnificent. Pepper accepted his matching bow with a proud lift of his head and a vigorously wagging tail. Then, they went down to the breakfast room to find Potts.
And, as he had on the previous day, he disappointed her. There was nothing but a small pile of crumbs by the place she’d hoped to find him. Today, she took the time to fill her plate and eat before searching for him. The activities of the previous evening had left her with a ravenous appetite. Perhaps it had done the same for him. If he was an early riser, he might have been too hungry to wait for her appearance.
When she had finished and given Pepper a hearty meal of the scraps, they set off in search of him. He had returned to the study again and was sprawled in the chair behind the big desk with her grandfather’s recent journals spread in front of him.
And at the sight, her throat closed and her mind went blank. In part, it was for the same reason as yesterday. There was a man sitting in Comstock’s chair who in no way belonged there. The man in that chair was not supposed to be young and carefree, nor was he supposed to look up at her and smile in a welcoming way, pushing aside the book he had been reading as if eager to see her.
It was perplexing. She had been prepared to find the new Comstock intimidating because of the power he had acquired. Potts made no bones about the fact that he was a no one come from nothing. But he had put his head between her legs and teased her until she’d screamed. Now, even though she had a hundred questions for him, she could not seem to think of any of them.
‘Good morning, Miss Strickland.’ His smile was innocuous, his tone polite. It was as if nothing had changed. And yet, everything had changed.
She cleared her throat. ‘Good morning, Potts.’
Pepper jumped to the desktop and stood between them, staring at Potts with hackles raised.
He sat up slowly and, without breaking eye contact with the dog, said, ‘Your help would be appreciated, Miss Strickland.’
She snapped her fingers. ‘Pepper.’ She pointed to a divan by the window. ‘Sit.’
As quickly as it had come, his protectiveness disappeared and Pepper hopped off the desk and trotted to his place without another thought for Potts.
She tossed him the last of her breakfast. ‘Good dog.’
Potts shook his head. ‘Amazing.’
She shrugged. ‘Hardly so. He is a smart little fellow. I am sure, when you get to know him...’
Potts shuddered. ‘Hopefully, I will be gone before that is necessary.’
He was leaving. Even though he had spoken of little else since arriving, she had forgotten the fact. She had also forgotten her promise that
things would not change after they’d made love. It was time to prove that she had meant what she’d said and get back to business.
She pointed to the journals lying on the desk in front of him. ‘I thought I told you that there could be no clues in the recent books.’
He raised his eyebrows in surprise. Then he, too, continued as if nothing had changed. ‘There aren’t. But on coming here, I was given no restrictions in where I could not go and what I must not see. Since you voiced strong opinions on the folly of the previous Comstock’s methods, I was interested in how the estate was being run.’
‘And what is your verdict?’ she asked, surprised to have been taken seriously over comments that had been fuelled by too much wine.
He dropped the book he had been reading and slammed it shut in front of him. ‘His management was disastrous. The estate has been in debt for decades and yet it continues to spend. Each year, the farmers produce less only to see their rents raised. This drives them to poach the deer and rabbits that are eating their failing crops. And those animals are reproducing at a breakneck pace since a family of daughters cannot hunt them fast enough to control their numbers.’
It was an astute assessment for only two days’ reading and raised points she had not considered. ‘What would you do to bring matters in line again?’
‘I would begin by forgiving the poachers for trying to feed their children. It makes no sense to hang or imprison the men who pay the rents. In fact, I would open the land to hunting parties, at least until the deer stop coming directly to the front door and eating the shrubbery. Then, there is the question of the failing crops.’
He leaned forward in his chair, obviously excited by the subject. ‘Did you know that foodstuffs grow better when the roots are nourished? The Indians in America had a habit of planting a dead fish with their seeds to make the plants thrive. Perhaps there is some substance we might add that would improve the harvest. At the very least the midden piles and manure should be buried, since it is unhealthy to leave them too near the villages.’
How Not to Marry an Earl Page 11