by Joan Avery
Just a moment before, standing and looking at her as the snowflakes embedded themselves in the soft fur around her throat and licked her long dark eyelashes, he had envied them their closeness to her. She had made him feel that way from the first time he had seen her. And knowing her as he did now made him contemplate the impossible. He was a gentleman and didn’t ravish a woman whom he was expected to walk safely home.
“Did you enjoy yourself this evening?”
“Yes, very much. The children are delightful, and Henry and Edith seem very devoted parents.”
“They are. Do you ever see yourself with children some day?’
She stopped again amid the snowflakes and looked at him. “Do you think because I believe women should have rights that I eschew children?” When he didn’t answer she continued, “I would think these two things are not incompatible if certain other things were true.”
He smiled. “And what would those things be?” He brushed a renegade snowflake away from her eyelash.
“That she were married to a man who shared her conviction. That her husband deem parenting a mutual undertaking not strictly a woman’s occupation.”
“Have you met many men like this?”
She laughed. “I do think them a rather rare breed. And most I’ve met already have previous attachments, I’m afraid.”
“Have you given up hope then?”
“You know me better than that. I do not give up on things easily. And this is one thing I am determined to pursue at all costs.”
“I admire your determination.”
“And you, my lord? What do you seek in a wife? Or would you prefer a mistress?”
“A wife, I think. And several children. Although I have no wish to challenge the Percy brood.”
They had reached her door. She searched in her reticule for the key.
“I’m afraid I am on my own tonight since I excused the staff for the holiday.” She struggled with the unfamiliar door.
“Let me.” He took the key from her bare hand, and the touch was electric.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Hugh fumbled with the door. She would think him an idiot. Finally, the lock gave and the door opened into darkness.
He stepped in first and then offered her a hand. It was a mistake.
He drew her into the darkened room until he could cup her face in his hands. With his thumbs he offered a gentle caress. She closed her eyes, capitulating, and he knew it would not end wisely.
With his leg, he closed the door, and it shut just as his lips met hers. It was an exclamation point to the intimate impact. He took his time. The kiss was excruciatingly painful and held the promise of so much more.
It was she now who held his lips against hers. He folded her in an embrace so passionate that he knew he could not let her go. Not tonight, not ever.
He offered multiple kisses down her neck, and she purred. The sound made him hard. So hard it was both pain and pleasure. He slipped off her cloak, baring her shoulders. He trailed kisses from shoulder to shoulder and fought with the dress that kept him from trailing them still further.
She took the initiative then and helped him shed his overcoat. She still had not said a word. He waited. Looking for direction from her.
…
The darkness and the empty house proved too enticing. Victoria wanted more. She didn’t care if it was unwise. Didn’t care about anything but the man who stood mere inches from her. She could feel his heat, comprehend his need, for the same need had risen up in her.
If nothing else, they could have this night. This magical night.
She was incomplete. She wanted more. She should stop him. It was a great risk. One that could destroy them both. But the feeling was so new, so overpowering nothing but death itself could come between them.
She understood now his frustration and despair at the loss of his fiancée. To see in someone else the traits that would complete you and make you whole was a heady aphrodisiac.
She took his hand and led him up the darkened stairs to her bedroom. She lit a lamp and turned to him, not knowing what she expected from him.
The fire and longing in his eyes was overwhelming. He waited, as if seeking her approval. If his feelings were near to hers, his patience was admirable. She smiled.
Still he didn’t move. She walked slowly over to him. His eyes followed her every move. She raised her hands and began to untie his cravat. The silk scarf careened smoothly over her fingers, and she relished the touch.
“Are you sure?” he asked her.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” she answered.
He cradled her face once more in his hands. Victoria closed her eyes, anticipating his kiss and so much more.
His lips, when they came, were soft and tempting. He kissed her forehead and teased the corners of her mouth before pulling her to him and kissing her deeply, so deeply she found herself drawn into his exploration. A new frisson of passion passed between them. It ignited something more powerful than she had expected. There was a new urgency to their interchanges.
He slid his hands down her neck and across the bare shoulders of her gown. He moved the peach silk off her shoulders and down her arms. His kisses trailed after his hands.
He kissed her cheek and her ears, his breath warm on both. The fine hairs on her neck rose with her shiver of anticipation. His kisses traced the low neckline and found a home between her breasts. Only her clothing stopped his further perusal.
She pressed a soft kiss into his hair and then raised her face back up to his. His eyes bore a question.
In response, she offered him the back of her dress. There was a pause before he kissed the back of her neck. She could feel his hands deftly working the small buttons of her gown. He released her bodice and then her skirt and crinoline. He lifted her out of them and carried her to the bed. He slipped off her shoes and placed them beside the bed.
He finished then what she had started. He removed his shirt and vest. His chest was broad and well muscled. He sat beside her and removed his boots.
When he was done, he rose. His manhood erect and his body magnificent. The distance between them was begging to be closed. She slipped off her drawers and left only her shift on, suddenly shy.
He lowered himself over her. She could feel his warmth as he closed the space between them. It enveloped her and left her more than eager to meld their two bodies. She wanted him to devour her. He knelt with his legs on either side of her hips and pulled her chemise up and over her head. He descended on her warm breasts voraciously, kissing and licking and sucking until her nipples were as erect as his throbbing manhood, warm against her thighs. She was becoming more and more needy. Desperate for his warmth, incomplete.
She reached down and touched him. A shudder ran through him. She was happy to return the pleasure.
She was swollen and wet in places she had never known before.
When she released him, he moved down. With a whimper she communicated her dismay. She did not want him to move away. The chill of the night air sent a ripple through her body.
His tongue was down between the soft folds of flesh at the apex of her legs, and she gasped with pleasure.
He kept up his kisses, licking and pleasuring her until she could bear no more. It took only one more invasion of his tongue and she shuddered violently. He moved up and covered her with his body.
His lips sought out her ear. He whispered, “You are truly extraordinary.”
“Please.” She didn’t know what she was asking, only that she needed to be completed and he obliged.
He slipped inside her, stopping only briefly. “This may hurt.”
She put her hands on his buttocks and encouraged him. He drove into her then, rupturing her hymen and filling her with himself.
She thought there could be no better feeling. And then he moved and her passion increased once more. He moved slowly at first. Every thrust holding back just a little.
“Please,” she said
again, giving him permission to find the pleasure he sought.
And he did, driving into her at an ever-increasing pace. She rose with him until they both shuddered and he lay back along her length. Easing his weight with his forearms.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked.
“No, no.” She shook her head to make her point.
He slowly slipped out of her and lay beside her, pulling her to him.
They lay quietly for a long time. Neither speaking, lost in the pleasure and terror of the moment.
Finally it was Victoria who spoke first.
“Was this a mistake?” she asked quietly.
He didn’t answer right away. He took a moment. Then he answered her honestly. “Probably.”
He pulled her closer to him even as he acknowledged this.
She lay there relishing the feel of his warm body next to hers. Accepting the fact that his answer was truthful. She just needed to know one more thing.
“Do you regret it?” More than aware that his answer might determine her fate.
This time there was no pause. No moment to think. He responded quickly and strongly.
“No.” He kissed the top of her head.
It was all she needed to hear.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Dennison stepped inside his office several days later.
“There is a man outside who wishes to see you without an appointment.”
“I’m very busy today. Can you ask if he can make an appointment and see me later? Perhaps after the New Year.”
“I can ask, my lord, but I believe he might not accept that solution.”
“Do you know who it is?” Hugh was busy with papers and hadn’t as yet looked up.
“Yes, it’s Lord Stanford.”
That caught Hugh’s attention. As much as he detested the man, he should see what he wanted. For a moment there was a flashback to Christmas Eve. The night he had spent with Victoria. He had left early in the morning before anyone was up and about. Suddenly, he was afraid of the very thing they had talked about: that their indiscretion might be discovered.
“Give me a minute, Dennison. Make it fifteen minutes and then escort him in.”
Hugh sat back in his chair. He didn’t want to do anything quickly. It might only confirm any notion Stanford had that he could influence the outcome of the case by blackmail. He wasn’t sure what he knew, but he was sure whatever it was would be used against him to try and influence the outcome of the trial.
Making love to Victoria had been a foolish thing to do. They had both acknowledged that fact. And yet, in the wee hours of Christmas morning, they had made love again, even more passionately. Desperation had driven their ardor. Imminent separation threatened the nascent feelings the intimacy had created. Love was there, but it was still an untested love. And with it was the knowledge that what they were doing was on some critical level wrong.
He would give up a lot for Victoria. Living without her was the worst fate he could imagine. Such a scenario wouldn’t have been possible a few short weeks ago. Now, he was determined to recuse himself, remove himself from the case entirely. It would be difficult to explain the reason for his abrupt departure, but somehow he would do it.
He continued on with his work until a knock at the door stopped him. “Come.”
Dennison opened the door.
“Stanford.” Hugh denied the man any honorific.
“My lord, how good to see you again.” Stanford’s smirk told Hugh something was afoot.
“Have a seat.” Hugh braced himself for the worst. “How can I help you? You do realize this kind of meeting is highly irregular.”
“I think you’ll be interested in what I have to say. It might even impact your decision on my case.” He pulled a linen handkerchief from his pocket and began to wipe his hands. “You see, Montgomery, I have information about you.” He stopped the bizarre hand wiping and looked up. “And about a certain lady. Miss Victoria Westwood.”
Hugh needed to stay calm no matter what the man said. He pulled himself away from the turmoil in his heart. He had to appear dispassionate and objective.
“What information would that be?”
“It seems I saw you leaving her room at Syon House a whole hour after you assaulted me. I made no police report on your assault because I didn’t want to” —he paused before continuing choosing his words carefully— “upset you and perhaps hurt my case.”
“It was you who attempted rape. I should have called the authorities on you.”
“That would have made a mess of things, as you well know. Your position and relationship would have been called into question.” He smiled, but the smile wasn’t pleasant. “I thought your stay of more than an hour smelled of something, shall we say, untoward.” He laughed cynically. “Just to prove how innocent you were of becoming too familiar with a defendant in one of the cases before you, I had a man watch you and your every move.”
Stanford could have stopped there. Hugh knew what was coming.
“It seems you spent a nice Christmas Eve at Lord Percy’s home and then walked a certain lady back to her home, where, please correct me if I’m wrong, you spent the rest of the night with Miss Westwood.”
“You can have no idea what transpired there that night, nor the night at Syon House after you attempted to rape Miss Westwood.”
“Well, others may come to their own conclusions. Consoling the poor woman seems a bit, shall we say, inappropriate for the man who is to sit in judgment over her case. I doubt the community would see your impartiality after the woman offered you her many pleasures as gratitude for you favoring her.”
It wasn’t worth arguing with the man. Hugh asked calmly, “And what do you intend to do with this information?”
“Nothing at all, should the case be properly settled.” He had started to wipe his hands again. Hugh found it unsettling, and the man himself beyond contemptible; yet, he himself had contributed to his quandary.
“I have decided to recuse myself from the case. I’ll hand it over to another judge.”
Stanford smiled broadly. “I was afraid that might be your response. If you do not hear the case, I would be forced to do something about it. Something involving Miss Westwood. If she were to meet with an untimely accident…”
“You wouldn’t dare.” Hugh grasped the sides of his chair to prevent himself from rising and throttling the man.
“Are you willing to take that chance?”
“And what if the decision I make is fair and equitable but not in your favor?”
“I’m not sure fair and equitable is what I’m after.” Stanford smiled. “I think a verdict in my favor is what I’m looking for. If it is not in my favor, I fear the next morning’s papers will be filled with your escapades with Miss Westwood, and both your reputations will be irredeemable.
“This is a very nice office.” He waved a hand around the room. “A very nice position. You have done well after your father’s sins. You have established yourself as an honest and reputable magistrate. I think losing your honorable reputation would be harder on you than losing the money would be on me.
“Think about what I have said. Either way you will have a stain on your soul. I think a court decision would be the lesser of evils. Surely you don’t want Miss Westwood to meet an early demise.”
Hugh rose abruptly from behind his desk. He wanted to kill the man.
“I think you’ve made your position clear, Stanford. Blackmail can sometimes be very effective.”
Stanford took this to mean he had succeeded. He, too, rose and extended his hand. “I am glad we have come to an agreement then.”
Hugh did not extend his own hand. “If you would please leave.”
“Of course.” Again, he smiled sardonically. “Have a good day.”
After he had left, there was another knock on the door. Dennison opened it slightly. “Is everything all right, your lordship?”
“Yes, Dennison. Thank you for inquiring. In a few minutes I
will have a letter that I would like hand delivered to Miss Victoria Westwood. Will you see to it?”
“Of course, my lord.”
Hugh looked at the blank piece of vellum and tried to make sense of it all. They said love conquers all. He knew better. The tragedy with Cathy had taught him love only makes you more vulnerable. He had been selfish and foolish, and now it wasn’t just he who would pay for his indiscretion, but Victoria as well.
He had been so careful all these years since Cathy’s death not to let his feelings rule him and in one slip, with one woman, he would see his life come crashing down around him. Everything he had worked for, all his hopes and dreams he had endangered on a whim. How had he lost his way so thoroughly? Why did it hurt so much? He should never have attempted to find happiness again. It was going to ruin them both.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Victoria sat numb, Hugh’s letter on her lap.
She was suffocating. She looked out the window for relief. The fog still had not let up, and its constant presence made her restless and morose, gasping for air. This couldn’t be happening. How could she have been so naive? He had gotten his way, taken her virtue, and now was abandoning her.
The letter was cold and hard. Their relationship had been a mistake and must end. There was no hope for them in the future. It was for the best.
There was no explanation, no apology. No effort made to acknowledge what she had thought they had. He had only communicated his concern for her well-being in terms of Stanford’s threat against her person.
She had been right from the beginning. He wanted to use his position to see what he could get for it, trading sex for a favorable verdict. Was he seeing if the gossips were right? Is that how he justified it? If she would sleep with him, surely she had slept with Stanford. Her heart beat so rapidly she thought it would burst. At least if she died from humiliation, it would save her from facing him ever again.
Her hands were still shaking violently when she picked up the second letter.