Hareton Hall: Richard and Rose, Book 6

by Lynne Connolly

  Then he took my hand and led me to the bed. I lay down and held out my arms to him. He hardly paused, only looking at me, with that smile curving his lips. “The best gift in the world.”

  He kissed me, touched me, took my nipples into his mouth and teased them into pinpoint hardness with his tongue.

  I caressed him, his firm, satiny skin heating under my hands, and kissed him again as he found his way home, sliding his shaft along my innermost folds, then deep inside my body. I’d never yet been disappointed by Richard’s lovemaking, never been less than drowsily blissful when we had done. His long years of practice must have helped, but now that he was all mine he honed his skills, tailoring them to my pleasure, for my delight.

  He kissed me, then drove in, to withdraw and plunge again, moving a little to find the most sensitive parts of me, then lifted his head and gazed down at me, pausing in his rhythmic movements. “How lucky can one man be?”

  I smiled up at him. He moved again and laughed softly when I caught my lower lip between my teeth and made a small, wordless sound. “Oh, my love, that’s it, that’s it.” His thrusts grew stronger, his breath harsher as he brought me to the brink of joy until he quickened his movement and made me cry his name. He pressed close for my kiss, and I felt the hard stones of the topaz necklace between us.

  I wanted to reciprocate, to bring him the same joy he’d given to me, so I began to move with more purpose, to push against him. I opened my eyes and put my arms around his waist to pull him closer to me, inviting him to use as much force as he needed to help him to his climax. He looked down at me, unsmiling but with such warmth in his eyes that I needed nothing else. I heard the sound like a chuckle he sometimes made, a sound unique to our lovemaking, deep in his throat, and felt his shudder, saw him close his eyes. He cried out, his seed spurting within me, and then let himself sink down into my arms. The warmth, the togetherness, was wonderful and filled me with an intense contentment.

  I don’t know how long we lay there, but eventually he rolled to one side and we curled up together, ready for sleep. He kissed me, whispered, “Thank you,” and I snuggled against him.

  I’d forgotten, but he put his hands round to the back of my neck and undid the clasp of the necklace. I opened my eyes, and then took off the topaz ring which also went with the set. I’d removed the earrings earlier, when Nichols had taken the pins out of my hair.

  He held the necklace up, letting the topazes and diamonds flash in the candlelight. “Very pretty and it made a lovely sight against your creamy skin. But I think it scratched me.”

  “I think that might have been me.” I drew my nails lightly down his chest.

  He looked away from the jewels to my face and smiled. “Then I shall wear the wound with pride.”

  I laughed. “Fool.”

  “Not at all. It’s a reminder I can carry with me during the day.”

  “Do you need one?”

  “No.” He drew me closer for a kiss. “Knowing that I can come to your bed every night is reminder enough. Don’t you ever want to be on your own?”

  “Never.”

  He laughed. “Society thinks we’re mad, you know.”

  “Society can go hang.” That made him laugh again. “If society had its way, you’d go to your own bed now, having done your duty. I’d have no one to curl up to, no one to touch in the night if I should wake up.” He drew his hand over my breast in a gentle caress. “Lady Skerrit thinks you’re imposing yourself here. I told her that we usually sleep naked, and we always sleep together, which was more than she wanted to know, so I don’t think she’ll mention it again.”

  I let him have his laugh out before he laid the necklace on my throat and slowly drew it down, watching the drops glitter when they passed over the mound of one of my breasts and the ridge of a still-erect nipple. He bent his head to warm my breasts with his tongue, and then reached over to put the necklace on the nightstand on my side of the bed. He didn’t lie down immediately but looked down at me and smiled. “I adore you.”

  “I love you, Richard,” I answered, and he kissed me, long and lovingly. “Would you still have gone to the coach house at Hareton Abbey that day, if you had known you’d meet me?”

  “I’d have run there.” He lay down again and gathered me to him. I curled my leg around his and was soon asleep.

  Chapter Five

  At breakfast the following morning Lizzie asked me if I wanted to go shopping with her in Exeter that day. I accepted with alacrity. Nichols accompanied me, as she always did, and we had a footman to carry our purchases and protect us, should the need arise. Nichols would probably be of more use in a crisis, but the others didn’t know that. She’d been employed not only because she was an excellent ladies’ maid, but also because she was handy in a tight corner.

  We accomplished the journey to Exeter in one of Martha’s carriages, the Hareton crest emblazoned on the door. A landau with the hood up to protect us from the cool sun of autumn and the threat of rain.

  Hareton Hall and the village of Darkwater weren’t far from Exeter, and it only took an hour or so for us to get there. When we alighted in the centre of the city, I was able to take in the sights while Nichols fussed around me, adjusting my hat a trifle, pulling the folds of my dark green cloak down to eliminate the creases. The cloak had a fur lining, and I was glad of it. Autumn was definitely on its way from the chill in the air.

  Now that I’d seen London, Venice, Paris and even York, Exeter didn’t seem as large as it used to. It was still an attractive place, though. Modern buildings jostled with older, half-timbered establishments, in varying states of repair. Some of the shops had the new, larger windows, such a feature of the fashionable shopping areas in London, all the better to display the wares within.

  I enjoyed visiting a place like this with all the money I’d need. All too often, I’d come here with just the right amount for a specific purpose. As the Golightlys of Darkwater Manor, we’d not been poor, but our finances were more restricted, especially the pin money allotted to us unmarried maidens. Our guardians—parents and then James and Martha—understood that we would need a certain amount to present ourselves successfully in society, but to have the sum that Richard allotted me now would have been beyond my dreams. And I spent it too. I was capable of feeling shame when I saw the poorest in our society. One week’s pin money would feed their families for a month.

  Lizzie and Ruth patiently waited for me, but I didn’t trust Lizzie’s smile when she watched Nichols’ attentions. I was right not to trust her. “To think you used to put on a riding habit in the morning and not change again until dinnertime.”

  “And I only had two gowns to my name,” I added. I never saw why I should throw money away on clothes when nobody looked at me anyway. I hadn’t then realised that clothes made people look. Before it had been delivered, my court gown had been displayed in a shop window without me in it, and people still flocked to see it.

  Shopkeepers came to their doors to usher us in. Not all of them knew us, but they knew prosperity when they saw it. We chose a toyshop, one of those shops that sold trinkets for adults. The shopkeeper did everything but rub his hands together in anticipation, bowing us in, finding chairs for us to sit in while he brought his most delectable goods for us to examine.

  I bought a new fan, a pretty thing made of silver filigree backed with silk, unusual enough to take my attention. As Miss Golightly, I’d have scorned it, knowing I couldn’t afford it and secretly yearning for it, for my careless exterior contained a person who sometimes longed for pretty things or for someone to buy them for her. Lizzie bought nothing, but Ruth chose a patchbox with a picture of young lovers painted on the lid. It was nothing out of the ordinary, but Ruth liked it.

  Once outside the shop, the small packages safely with the footman, I tucked my arm through Lizzie’s and we sauntered slowly on.

  After a pleasant morning, Lizzie led the way down one of the alleys that led to the main thoroughfare. We’d often taken this
way as girls, as it was a much faster way back to the main thoroughfare, where we’d find our coach.

  A man lounged at the end of the narrow passageway. He straightened as we entered and the hairs on the back of my neck prickled. I glanced back to where we’d come. My worst fears were confirmed when I saw two men blocking our exit and making it impossible for our footman to follow us. They must have stepped in the way as soon as we’d walked into what was obviously a trap. Two men behind us, one in front. Better to go on.

  Nichols had her hand in her pocket. I knew what she carried there and I hoped she wouldn’t have to use her pistol, but I slipped my hand in my own pocket and felt the handle of my stiletto knife. Richard was adept at using them, and I’d asked him to give one to me and teach me how to use it, but I hadn’t needed to use it in anger before.

  I put up my chin and carried on, Nichols bringing up the rear of our little procession. When we reached the end of the passage the man stood in front of us, barring our way. He was burly, dressed in a plain homespun coat and greasy leather breeches. His cocked hat looked as though it had seen better days. One hand was empty, the other concealed from me. “Your money,” he demanded.

  I confronted him. “Or what?”

  He drew out his hand from behind his back and produced a large, heavy club. Not a pistol then.

  Expensive silk rustled as the others fumbled in their pockets for their valuables. “And your jewels,” the man continued. His accent was local, rough.

  I was wearing the pearls Richard had given me when we were first betrothed, so I felt most reluctant to give them up. “I’m tired of this. You can have my money but not my jewels.”

  Nichols sighed and it sounded more relieved than anything else. She was spoiling for a fight.

  The man in front of us laughed. Only one tooth right at the front looked as though it might stay there for any length of time. Its fellows were stained and black. I was glad I wasn’t near enough to him to smell his breath.

  “Oh please,” wittered a frightened voice behind me which I didn’t recognise. It must be Lizzie’s maid. “Please let us go.”

  “Not often we get plump pigeons like this, is it, boys?” said the first man, and was rewarded by a chuckle from his two companions behind us. “Lots of money, and more besides.” He licked his lips in a parody of passion. “Are you going to fight? I like a woman with spirit.”

  I drew the knife out of my pocket. It was too dark here for it to glitter, but it was razor sharp. The first man laughed. “Against this?” He hefted his club. “Come on—we ain’t got all day. Money and jewels. Quick.”

  Three men only. I kept my gaze on the first man’s face as I put my hand slowly into my other pocket.

  I brought the gun out ready and cocked. Richard had given me a pair of these weapons on my honeymoon—a new design, where the trigger only dropped when the hammer was drawn back, making it easier to carry and less likely to go off unexpectedly.

  His response was to take half a step back.

  “I wouldn’t carry it if I couldn’t use it,” I said in reply to his unspoken question. “Let us pass.”

  A sharp click behind me alerted me to Nichols cocking her own weapon. I glanced at the others. “Stay close.”

  The man in front of us moved aside without a word. We would have to pass him to get out of this alley, and we stood only about halfway up, so we wouldn’t be out of danger until completely clear of it. We couldn’t take them on our own, but emboldened by my success, I was tempted to try.

  I walked past him, keeping my weapon trained on his chest all the way. He lifted his hands above his head. I went as quickly as I could without risking losing my balance, but as Lizzie followed, the worst happened.

  Probably sensing Lizzie’s fear, the man dropped his hands and seized her around the waist. Nichols, who had her pistol trained on the men behind, looked around at Lizzie’s shriek of fear and indignation, and they jumped at her.

  Nichols fired, then immediately grasped the muzzle of her pistol in her other hand, defying any burns from the hot metal, so she could use the hefty butt as a weapon. Ruth’s screams joined Lizzie’s.

  I couldn’t use my pistol—the man held my sister around her waist, close to him, her back against his body. Her skirts belled up at the front, pushed up by her side hoops, and I heard her captor snicker. “Use it now,” he suggested. “You should’ve given us your purse when we asked.”

  Nichols shouted as she fought off the two men behind us, “Run, my lady, run!” but I wasn’t about to leave my friends and family behind. Instead, I moved to the side and lunged towards him, knife in hand.

  I got his arm. The sharp weapon sliced through his coat and made contact with the skin beneath, but it only touched him, drawing a thin line of blood down his arm. I tried to pull back, but cursing, he released Lizzie and seized my arm. Lizzie fell to one side and I brought my other arm around, the one with the gun in it.

  How could I miss at that close range? Despairingly I heard the report and knew it had gone off above his head, my finger prematurely tightening on the trigger. I swung my arm round hard, in an attempt to hit him, but he caught it with his other hand.

  His face was close to mine now, his breath coming in a sharp, angry hiss. I’d been right. His breath stank. I stared at him, reluctant to show any weakness.

  “Now…” His low, threatening voice cut through Ruth’s staccato screams. My youngest sister was growing hysterical, if she was not there already.

  Then I heard a cultured male voice close to my ear, “Let her go,” and the cocking of a flintlock.

  My head whipped to one side. A man stood beside me, and he was holding a pistol to my attacker’s head, the muzzle pressed hard against his temple. The ruffian sighed and released me.

  I bent to pick up the knife I’d dropped. Then I stood to confront our rescuer. It was Sir John Kneller.

  Lizzie was brushing her skirt down, recovering from her fall, and Ruth had stopped screaming. Nichols had managed to fight off the two men behind, and they turned tail at the sight of our friend. Sir John glanced at me. “All right?”

  “Fine,” I assured him. Our captive stood very still, as though we might forget him if he pretended not to be there, but I smelled him. Now it wasn’t only his breath that smelled.

  I leaned against the dirty wall behind me, heedless of my clothes, and recovered my equilibrium. “Damned footpads. We were foolish to come this way.”

  “Undoubtedly,” Sir John agreed. “Your maid is handy.”

  I didn’t feel like explaining that Nichols was as much a bodyguard as a lady’s maid. “So she is.”

  Suddenly the ruffian moved. With a speed I wouldn’t have credited him for, he twisted under the pistol, gripping Sir John’s wrist and making him drop the weapon with a noisy clatter on the stone beneath us. Without looking back, he took to his heels and sped out of the alley and away. Sir John stared after him, but made no effort to pursue. “I was wondering what to do with him.”

  “Hand him over to the authorities,” Lizzie said. But we had no chance.

  Ruth burst into noisy tears, and while we glared at her in exasperation, Sir John moved forward to comfort her. Nichols came past him to stand by me. We exchanged glances but neither of us said anything.

  “Allow me to escort you to your coach,” said Sir John, as urbane as he had been threatening a moment before.

  Back in my bedroom at Hareton Hall, Richard listened to our account of the attack, his mouth set in a thin line. Carier stood grim-faced by his side.

  “I didn’t like that attack,” I said. “There was something not quite right about it.”

  “Just what I was thinking, my lady,” Nichols said. “The two I fought off gave up too easily, and it’s not like footpads to attack three women and their maids. They tend to pick on smaller groups.”

  “So where was your footman?”

  “He ran off to get help,” I said. “He returned quickly, but by then our attackers had gone.”

>   “He should have stayed with you. I’ll ensure that a well-trained man goes with you next time.” By which he meant a Thompson’s man.

  I dropped the pearl necklace on my dressing table. “They didn’t really want our purses. They were after something else. Have you any idea what?”

  Nichols picked up a brush and set it in its place among the silver gleaming on the surface. “Not a notion, but I thought it strange that the trouble should start when our old adversaries arrive in the district.”

  “The Drurys?”

  “Possibly.”

  I sighed. If the Drurys were beginning their campaign against us once more, Richard would insist I was carefully guarded, and it irked me to be accompanied everywhere. “I hope not. Perhaps the Marquês has enemies, or Lizzie has some secret we don’t know about. I’ll ask her.”

  “Or perhaps,” Richard said, “this is Sir John’s strange way of ingratiating himself with your sister. He’s young, and from what you said she saw him as a gallant knight after the episode. We shall see. I’ll have enquiries put in train. I trust no one in this, however outlandish it might seem.”

  Chapter Six

  I promised to ride out with Richard and Gervase the next day. Ruth accompanied us, but we only took one attendant, Richard’s groom Bennett, who, like Carier, accompanied us everywhere. I wanted to see the sea. Having been born so close to it, I missed seeing it, smelling the tang it put into the air, and they readily agreed to head that way. I was surprised that Richard would want to come, having ridden out the day before, but he said, “It’s a greater pleasure to be out with you, my love, and in any case, I want to take care of you. Nichols isn’t a good rider, so she would be of limited use there.” His concern touched me deeply.

  Although Gervase had also been out the day before, riding was one of his passions, and he had his great horse, the nearly black Nighthawk. Richard rode his Strider and I had Rosebud, the horse he’d bought me that summer. I thought she was the best horse in the world, spirited but obedient, and during our time at Strang Hall I’d got to know her very well. She was a bay, a light tan colour, and she had a mouth like velvet that responded to the lightest touch on the bridle.