Provocative in Pearls

by Madeline Hunter

  “I had long given up hope of seeing you again. This is like a miracle to me. If he can be kind, why did you run away, child?”

  How like Katy to know at once she had run away. But then, in the past, when she ran away, she ran to Katy.

  The embrace outside had reminded her of why, and filled her heart with nostalgia. Those arms had comforted a child after a mother’s death, and a girl again after a father’s. When that governess scolded too much, or Nancy chastised, she would slip away sometimes, knowing all the while that she would pay for it, and go down the hill to Katy’s cottage to be embraced and comforted again.

  The scent and softness of this woman had stayed with her the last two years. Now, sitting in this little sad cottage with its rough plank floor, she felt more thoroughly herself than she had for many years.

  Yet she could not honestly answer Katy’s question. She did not want to worry her by describing what Bertram had threatened.

  “I ran away because I did not truly agree to marry.” She explained her plan, and how she had hoped to get free once she came of age, and come home and put Bertram out. She told Katy all of it.

  “It was the plan of a child,” Katy said. “Your father’s child, for there was much of his mind in it, but still a child who knew little of the world. You are here now, though, and if that lord can be kind sometimes, being back in that marriage will not harm you. You will be safe, at least.”

  “I have learned more of the world now, and I am content at last, now that I have seen you.” She leaned toward the stool and gave Katy another embrace. “And Michael? How does he fare?”

  Katy’s eyes closed, and Verity knew she had touched a sorrow. Her heart sank.

  “He has been gone a long time now. Longer than you. I thought nothing of it at first; it was not the first time he left as you know, but . . .”

  “Where did he go?”

  Katy slowly shook her head. “I do not know. Sometimes I would dream of him and you, together the way you were as children, and worry that the dream meant he also was dead.” She dabbed her eyes and forced a smile.

  “But since you were not, as I can see with my own eyes now, perhaps the dream meant nothing at all.”

  “Was he possibly arrested? He could be rash in his talk, Katy. Perhaps he was involved in something and put in gaol.”

  “If so, not in Shropshire or Staffordshire. If he had stood at the sessions, I would have been told. Mr. Travis would have heard of it.”

  Verity took Katy’s hands in hers. “So all this time you have been waiting, not knowing whether to mourn him or not.”

  “Or you, child. Or you.”

  “I will discover what became of him, Katy, even if it is not happy news, so you do not have to wait much longer.” She looked around the tiny cottage, dark with its two small windows. “This must be uncomfortable when it rains, and in winter.”

  “I count myself lucky to have it. After Michael left, I was put out of the works’ cottage where we lived.”

  It was not supposed to happen that way. Part of the agreement with Bertram had been that Katy would never be put out. This further evidence of Bertram’s betrayal infuriated Verity. She had difficulty hiding her anger.

  “I will see that you have more comfort in the future.” She wanted to be more specific. She almost was before she remembered that she had no power to promise anything. She would have to request permission from Hawkeswell to help Katy. She would have to petition him in order to have a crumb of her own inheritance used to benefit this dear woman.

  She stood, and went to the small table on which her basket rested. “I have brought you things for later, but a few for right now too.” She unwrapped a meat pasty and a hunk of cheese. “Let us share, while you tell me all about my neighbors. Give me only the joyful news, Katy. I already know the rest.”

  Hawkeswell watched the barge waiting for the canal lock to do its work. Held in place by two hefty gates, it floated higher as water rushed in. The piles of coal on its bed could not defeat the forces of nature, and its deck rose until it lay higher than the gates themselves. Then the gate ahead opened slowly, and the barge floated away.

  The Birmingham canal curved ahead, one of many twists as it followed the lay of the land between Wolverhampton and Birmingham. Even so it could not avoid some hills, and steam engines had been set up to pump enough water to ensure the canal could function on them.

  Bills regarding canals kept being proposed in Parliament, as men eager to make money either moving goods, or making the goods to be moved, petitioned for permission to cut these waterways. As a result he knew more about canals than most. He knew that this was not the best canal, but rather narrow, and complicated by the big curves of its serpentine path. Even so, it was far better than trying to haul that barge’s coal overland.

  He walked back toward the carriage, checking his pocket watch as he strode. Verity would probably want to stay with Katy a good while longer.

  He had thought, when she spoke of the woman, that Katy had the place of a nurse or governess in her affections. Seeing their reunion, watching their joyful embrace and the tears flow, had disproven that. Instead Verity had meant exactly what she said. Katy was like a mother to her.

  The area appeared safe enough. He decided to take the carriage after all, and sent the coachman to inform Verity that he would return in two hours.

  Losford Hall rested on a hill, at the end of a lane that wound through trees. As Hawkeswell approached he thought it a handsome property, but its setting lent it an air of mystery. That would be appropriate for the man who lived there now.

  Jonathan Albrighton received him in a library stuffed with books and papers. Not all had come with the house. Unbound volumes and stacks of pamphlets mixed with the neat bindings normally found in a country house of this size.

  “I am pleased that you called. I was hoping that you would,” Albrighton said.

  He appeared thinner than Hawkeswell remembered, but still carried himself with a manner that implied both deference and arrogance at the same time. His dark hair was pulled into an old-fashioned tail, and his dark eyes, his whole countenance, invited one to confidences and trust, as always. Hawkeswell knew, however, that no matter how long one looked and how often one confided, the mind behind those eyes would forever remain unknown.

  “So you knew I was in the area.” He did not bother to make it a question. “Word does spread quickly in the country, doesn’t it? As a JP, you no doubt hear it before many others.”

  “It only confirmed what I expected. You would have to come eventually, to see about your wife’s inheritance.”

  They sat in comfortable chairs, the kind a man could read in for hours. No doubt this man did. Albrighton had been a most studious student at university, and everyone assumed he would become a don himself. Instead he had chosen a nomadic existence, traveling far and wide, his stays in London always of uncertain duration.

  That, combined with an income of ambiguous origins, had led Hawkeswell, Summerhays, and Castleford to conclude that Albrighton was involved in activities of ambiguous legality, perhaps even for the government.

  “So you have become a country gentleman,” Hawkeswell said, admiring the library. “Although it suits your intellectual interests, somehow I can’t see you contented here long. Of course, serving as a magistrate gives your curiosity more active purposes.”

  “It was an unexpected appointment. I try to execute my duties well, however.”

  “I am sure you execute them admirably. Will you be doing so for a good while? Are you planning to stay in England now?”

  “That remains to be seen.” Albrighton smiled pleasantly. The eternal depths of his dark eyes drew one in but, as always, revealed nothing once one became submerged.

  “I have had my ears filled with stories about seditious doings in the region. My hostess is sure revolution is at hand. She reported some nonsense about Cleobury buying cannon. I have seen nothing today to warrant such fears.”

  “People
will talk. Fear is abroad, more than is warranted, as you say. I have become more circumspect in talking to men who may be fomenting discontent, lest my attention only feed the worry. As for Cleobury—well, he was never very smart, was he?”

  “It is believed by many in Parliament that the Home Office is instigating trouble rather than calming it. That there are agent provocateurs at work up here, in Home Secretary Lord Sidmouth’s employ. Would you know anything about that?”

  Albrighton just looked at him, a vague amusement playing at his mouth and in his eyes. “And here I thought this was a social call. Did the peers send you to investigate these rumors? If so, I cannot help you. I have not met any agent provocateurs, if they really exist.”

  “I was sent by no one. I am just curious for my own purposes.” Mostly he was curious why Albrighton was here. Of course, the work for spies would have decreased with the war’s end, much like the demand for iron. With his skills no longer needed, the man would have to go someplace.

  Hawkeswell stood and went to look out the window. It overlooked a small garden that gave way to a wilderness area. “Have you been back in England long? It is odd that no one in town knows of it.”

  “A year, perhaps. I passed through London quickly, and had no time to call on old friends.”

  Hawkeswell did not think he was a friend who would have been called on in any case by Albrighton. He wondered if any man was. “This is a fine property. Part of a legacy, was it?”

  “Thank you. I think it is a fine property too.”

  Hawkeswell laughed. “You will have your mysteries, won’t you?”

  “I think of it as privacy, not mystery.”

  “I doubt Cleobury permits much privacy, if you have become friends with him.”

  “I would not presume to describe Lord Cleobury as my friend.”

  Hawkeswell turned around. “What the hell are you doing here? Not retiring to the sweet country air, I think.”

  “Would you have me lie to you, Hawkeswell? Make up a tale that fits your assumptions about me? I will do so if you insist. I would prefer not to. We have known each other too long, and shared some fine times in the past. You and a few others deserve better.”

  Yes, they had shared some fine times. Albrighton had sometimes stood with Summerhays, Castleford, and him through good and bad. Not shoulder to shoulder, however. Albrighton was always a little apart, and a lot unknown. Privacy, he called it.

  Hawkeswell returned to his chair. “No, do not lie. Tell me how things are in Paris, instead. I am sure that you have been there more recently than I.”

  “Are you finished with your calls for the day?” Hawkeswell asked when Verity emerged from Katy’s cottage that afternoon.

  “Quite finished.” She settled into the carriage and he climbed in with her. “Where did you go?”

  “To see the countryside.”

  Verity watched him with a speculative expression. To his surprise, she moved from the seat facing him, and snuggled in by his side. He put his arm around her, so she could get as close as she wanted.

  “My cousin will be back in a day or so. Nancy wrote to their housekeeper that they are returning, and of course word has spread,” she said.

  “I did not expect him to dally in London once you departed, so I am not surprised.”

  “I intend to speak with him about Katy, but he will not hear me. He will deny his lies and promises to me.”

  She snuggled closer, then turned clumsily and managed to slide upon his lap. She kissed him aggressively, much as she had in the morning at his command. Since he had not commanded it this time, her forwardness delighted him.

  “Are you certain that you want to start this here and now?” he asked, when she finally ended the kiss. Already he could not keep his hands off her.

  “Very certain.” Her breathless, warm voice made him harder. Heat burned away vague considerations of restraint.

  She kissed him again to prove her certainty. He hardly needed more encouragement, although her bottom moved and flexed just enough on his lap to render concerns of time and place mute.

  Fevered now, he set her feet on the floor. She bowed over him, holding the back of his seat to steady herself. He held her head to a savage kiss with one hand while he raised her skirt with the other.

  He hitched it high, draping it from her back, and the chemise too. “Hold it up.”

  She gathered the fabric in one arm, clutching it to her breast. Below its soft billows she was naked to her garters. She remained bent toward him. Her bottom rose as her back arched, and her spread legs sought balance in the moving carriage.

  He thought her unbearably erotic looking, but picturing her from the other side almost undid him. He wanted to turn her and taste her and take her hard while her pretty bottom arched up and her legs spread more and—

  Not now. Not here. No time anyway. He raised his head to a kiss and caressed the damp curls of her mound, then stroked deep and long until her first cries spoke her own impatience. He teased ruthlessly, gently stimulating the sensitive flesh until she cried out with each touch.

  He lifted her, and settled her on his lap again, facing him on bended legs. He shifted forward and pushed her knees back and entered harder than he intended, so hard that she gasped.

  He stopped and waited for her body to accept him, as he often had to do. Finding restraint had never been more difficult than this time. He gritted his teeth while her velvet warmth softened and found comfort around his flesh. Then he cupped her bottom in his hands and guided her movements and let the fire burn out of control.

  She rested against him, her head on his chest, not even attempting to move. The dress had draped down some, but her bottom still showed beneath its edge, pretty and white and so feminine in its lovely shape.

  He thought she slept. He let her, and kept her in place with an embrace. Eventually, however, they neared Mrs. Geraldson’s house. They could not arrive there like this.

  With his slight movement she sat upright and became aware of her extreme dishabille. She backed off his lap and let her chemise and dress fall. They quickly made themselves presentable.

  “I suppose that was scandalous,” she said.

  “Not nearly as scandalous as what I considered doing.”

  She appeared to puzzle that out, trying to imagine just what else he could have possibly done.

  “Do not tie your head into knots, Verity. I will show you sometime.”

  She nodded, and allowed a minute to pass before speaking again. “I am very distressed by how Katy is living. Such a place can ruin a person’s health. She has to walk all the way to the canal for water too. The parish barely gives her enough to buy food.”

  “Her circumstances are unfortunate.”

  “I would like to send her to Surrey, to Greenlay Park. Surely there is a cottage there that she could live in, or she could help the cook or housekeeper. I would say we should bring her to London, but she does not know town life and I do not think she would be happy.”

  “Surrey is better, I am sure.”

  “Thank you. This is very important to me.”

  She assumed that his response meant he had agreed already. She appeared very pleased with herself.

  “Verity, did you seduce me in order to obtain my permission on this?”

  “You implied this morning that kisses and such would help win your agreement on matters of my preference.”

  He would have allowed it even without her boldness. After seeing the love expressed in that reunion and hearing that woman call Verity her child, how could he refuse? There had been no need to use feminine wiles on him.

  He decided it was not in his interest to tell her that.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Ihear that the Thompsons have returned,” Mrs. Geraldson announced two days later. “No doubt you will want to call on them, Colleen. Perhaps you intend to as well, Lady Hawkeswell.”

  “We can take the cabriolet and drive over ourselves,” Colleen said. “I have a good hand
at the ribbons, and Hermione’s mare is very mild, Verity.”

  “My wife was complaining of a headache this morning,” Hawkeswell said. “Nor should you go that far without protection. I will go with you, Colleen. I have some things that I need to do at the works anyway.”

  Verity appeared grateful that he had saved her a lie by lying himself. He knew she would not want to see her cousin at all, let alone pay a call with Colleen in tow.

  An hour later he took the reins of the cabriolet and, with Colleen by his side, headed to Oldbury.

  “You must convince Verity to be more careful with her health,” Colleen said. “She was up very early this morning, walking outside while it was still damp from a heavy dew. She was not even wearing a shawl.”

  He had not been aware Verity rose that early. “I do not believe she is frail. I suspect her health would have taken a bigger toll by now if she were. However, visiting here has troubled her mind.”

  “It probably only reminds her of how difficult it will always be in society. She will never feel at home there, especially while she still has such ties to Oldbury. It is not for me to advise, but perhaps this should be her last visit. She can always see the Thompsons when they visit London, and they are her only relatives.”

  “No, it is not for you to advise.”

  Colleen stiffened enough at the scold that he regretted speaking so directly. He took her hand to let her know he was not angry.

  She twined her gloved fingers though his. “Forgive me. You are correct. I do forget my place sometimes.”

  “Not at all. It is only that the best advice is not always advice that it would be wise to follow.”

  He released his hand to have both for the reins, but made sure to smile at Colleen until her careful passivity passed.

  Her advice had been well-meaning, and perceptive. This visit was reminding Verity of the differences between their stations. That had been the very first reason she gave for not wanting the marriage, and now here she was, back home, and the degree to which her people wanted nothing to do with him was clear. She anticipated, correctly, that his circles would prove even less open to her than hers were with him.