by Nina Mason
He was, nevertheless, game to try—for Miss Bennet’s sake, if not his own. There was another assembly ball coming up soon, and he wanted most dearly to dance with her there.
“Though I might be able to fudge my way through the steps, I doubt I can manage the rises,” he said nervously.
“You’ll be fine.” She squeezed his hands encouragingly. “The rise is superfluous.”
They moved slowly through the dance while she hummed the tune, looking particularly fetching with the amber glow of the fire lighting her face. Even rain-soaked and bedraggled, she was a vision of loveliness.
The exercise was awkward, though far from the challenge he’d feared—not at this tempo, leastwise…or with a partner as skilled in dancemanship as was Miss Louisa Bennet.
After they went through the sequence several times, he began to remember just how much he loved to dance. He also began to realize how hard it would be to keep his promise to himself to behave like a gentleman. The closeness of their bodies had enflamed his desire to do more than dance. Did she know the effect she was having on him?
To cool his lusts, he turned his thoughts to the most disagreeable subject imaginable: Being discovered alone together. “What do you think your father will do if he finds us out?”
“Murder us both, probably.”
His heart jolted in alarm. “Are you serious?”
She smiled up at him. “Though I doubt he will actually kill us, I have no doubt he will do something terrible to punish me.”
“And you are willing to risk his wrath?”
“I am willing to risk anything to avoid marrying Charles.”
Her remark took the wind out of his sails. “Even marry a one-legged man you do not love?”
“I do not care about your leg,” she said, holding his gaze intently. “And I have every reason to believe I will be in love with you by the time we marry…if indeed our courtship comes to that end.”
“How can you be sure you will come to love me?”
She simpered at him. “Because I’m half in love with you already, you silly man.”
He kissed her then in the way a man kisses a woman who has stirred something inside him he believed long dead. Rather than shrink from his intensity, she wrapped her arms around his neck and tangled her fingers in his hair. As the kiss deepened, the feel of her body, hands, and mouth aroused in him more desire than he presently had use for.
He withdrew, all at once unsure of her and himself. If she was anything like his sister, she had built her expectations so high, no mortal man could ever satisfy her.
“I think it only fair to warn you”—he suddenly felt flushed and lightheaded—“I am not Prince Charming, in case you thought I was.”
She drew back, her lovely green eyes sparkling with amusement. “And I am no pampered princess, in case you thought I was.”
“I’m pleased to hear it,” he told her, recovering his equilibrium. “Because I want a sturdy, rational creature to weather life’s storms with me.”
She beamed at him. “Then we are an excellent match, Captain Raynalds.”
“Please, do call me Theo.”
“Then we are an excellent match, Theo.”
He kissed her again, more tenderly than the first time. “Yes, Louisa. I believe we may be well matched at that.”
* * * *
The night of the monthly assembly had arrived at last and Louisa was a bundle of nerves. As excited as she was to reap the rewards of her instruction, she also feared her partiality toward the Captain would be evident to all in attendance.
She had, therefore, decided to make every effort to hide her feelings. She would not look his way too often…or speak with him too familiarly…or dance with him above once the whole evening. She would reserve Lady Nelson’s Waltz Cotillion for him, if the orchestra happened to strike up the tune.
The assembly rooms, as always, were full of people when Louisa and her family arrived. She wore a white silk evening gown, elbow-length gloves, a string of pearls at her throat, and a bejeweled comb in her fashionably plaited hair.
Louisa scanned the throng for Theo. She found him in the ballroom, looking exceedingly dashing in his black evening coat, white waistcoat, ruffled shirt, and stylishly knotted neckcloth. When their eyes met across the room, she quickly looked away. It would not do if others read her fondness for him in her gaze.
Excusing herself from her party, she went to the refreshment table and ladled herself a cup of punch, being careful not to dribble any on her gloves or gown. The orchestra was playing one of her favorite dances: the sprightly Duchess of Devonshire’s Reel. Could Theo manage the steps with more practice? The steps were a bit more balletic than the cotillions they’d worked on to this point, but also slower and simpler than many other dances.
She returned to her family just in time to see Georgie disappearing through the crowd on the arm of a gentleman. On closer inspection, Louisa recognized the man as Lt. Churchill. Obviously, he’d returned to Greystone since her last visit.
“May I claim the next two sets, Miss Bennet?”
Startled by the question, Louisa turned to find Mr. Peterson, a local attorney, addressing her. Though she found him rather buffoonish, she accepted him in accordance with her plan to appear indifferent toward her favorite.
They took their place in the circle to which Georgie and Lt. Churchill belonged. When the orchestra played the lilting introduction to La Strasbourgoise Cotillion, they made their bows before joining hands to promenade counter-clockwise. As they proceeded through the steps and turns, Louisa was pleased to discover Mr. Peterson was a better dancer than he was a conversationalist. As they continued, she wondered if Theo might be watching them.
The following two dances, with the son of a squire, did not go as well as the first two. The ungainly young man often mistepped unaware, giving her all the shame and inelegance a clumsy partner could. Was Theo laughing at her? She would be laughing herself were she not so mortified.
She danced next with Lt. Churchill, and had the pleasure of not only expert dancing, but also of hearing that his friend spoke of her fondly and often. When the dance was over, they both returned to Georgie and engaged in a conversation so engrossing, she missed the first strands of Lady Nelson’s Waltz Cotillion.
“I believe you promised this one to me, Miss Bennet.”
Theo’s voice behind her spun her around. He bowed to her cordially before offering her his arm. When she took it, he led her toward the dance floor. Halfway there, he said near her ear, “You look radiant tonight—and dance like an angel. I only hope I will not embarrass you too grievously.”
Warmed by his compliments, she replied, “You could not embarrass me half as much as my last partner, who proved it takes more than two sound legs to master the art of dancemanship.”
“Even so, not an eligible man in the room could tear his eyes from you.”
She smiled and batted her lashes at him. “Yourself included?”
He leaned closer and kept his voice low. “Do you still consider me eligible, Louisa? For I consider myself spoken for in the main.”
Her pulse quickened as they reached the dance floor and took their places among a circle of couples that included the Baldwyns. With a knowing gleam in his eyes, Sir Steven darted his gaze between them. Would he share his suspicions with her parents? He was, after all, one of the biggest gossips in the county.
Theo danced even better than the last time they ran through the steps, suggesting he’d practiced in the interim. She was so proud to be his partner, her heart was full to bursting.
“You are doing splendidly,” she told him as he turned her. “Next time, perhaps we should try the waltz.”
“I don’t want to wait that long to have you in my arms,” he said quietly. “Is there somewhere we can be alone?”
Before she could answer, they returned to their lines. The next time they came together, she said, “There’s an unoccupied banquet room at the end of the hall. Meet me there in
half an hour.”
* * * *
On his way to the refreshment table, Theo heard a shrill female voice call his name. Turning to see who it was, he found the Cuthbertsons standing before him. “My dear, Captain,” said the mother. “How good it is to see you dancing. Have you been taking instruction?”
“In a manner of speaking,” he evasively replied.
“Perhaps, if you are feeling up to it, you will do me the favor of standing up with my daughter, Augusta.”
“Oh, Mama,” cried Miss Cuthbertson, clearly embarrassed by her mother’s matchmaking campaign. “You know perfectly well my dance card is already full.”
“How fortunate for us both,” he said, “for I do not think I have the stamina to dance another.”
“Well, you looked perfectly robust while dancing just now with Miss Louisa Bennet,” Mrs. Cuthbertson said indignantly. “How long, pray, has she been such a favorite?—and when are we to wish you joy?”
Her impertinence alarmed as much as it infuriated Theo. “I have no intention of marrying anyone, Mrs. Cuthbertson. Now, if you will excuse me, I must rejoin my party.”
As Theo made his way toward the rendezvous spot, he glanced backward a few times to be sure the Cuthbertson’s were neither following nor watching him. By the time he turned down the hall, he was reasonably certain he was unobserved. Hastening toward the banquet room, he looked both ways—just to be sure—before slipping inside.
Posting himself inside the door, he waited on Louisa. By the time she came in, his eyes had grown accustomed to the dark.
“Theo, are you in here?”
“I am.”
He stepped behind her and locked the double doors before spinning her around. Pulling her into his arms, he captured her mouth in a hungry, tongue-clashing kiss. She threw her arms around his neck and pressed her body against his in a way that aroused his savage appetites. As his cock swelled into hardness, he pushed it against her. Lord, how he wanted her. Not just in a sexual way, but in every way imaginable.
Yes, he was a damn fool to be indulging his passions in a place they could so easily be discovered, but he could not seem to help himself—especially when he could feel her hand creeping down his body toward dangerous territory. Should he stop her? If he let her continue, would he be able to withdraw before things went too far?
Just for a moment, he imagined walking her backward toward one of the banquet tables. It would be but the work of a moment to lean her back and plant his standard—or better yet, to lay her open, bury his face between her legs, and drive her to raptures with his lips and tongue.
The fantasy only made things worse, so he blinked it away. In his trousers, his cock was so engorged it ached. He could not let her touch him. If she did, he would explode. With a growl of frustration, he managed to extricate himself. “You are playing with fire, Louisa,” he warned. “And are likely to get burned.”
She set her hands on his chest and looked into his eyes. “I want to burn, Theo. Like a fiery comet shooting across the heavens.”
Before he could think what to say to that, the exterior doors rattled violently. “Why is this locked?” a baritone voice demanded from the other side. “Who the devil is in there?”
Theo’s heart beat faster. He searched frantically for somewhere to conceal her. Spying a door on the other side of the room, he pulled her toward it. “You must hide, Louisa, before he breaks the lock.”
The man outside jiggled the knobs again, shouting, “I know someone is in there. Open this door this instant or I shall break it down!”
Reaching the other door, Theo tried the knob, rejoicing when it turned. It led to a storage closet. He ushered Louisa inside and shut the door as quietly as he could. Then, he turned his attention to his other problem.
His cock was still painfully hard.
He imagined himself in the least arousing scenario possible. He took himself back to his quarters on Andromeda as the surgeon prepared to saw off what remained of his leg. When his erection subsided, he limped to the outer door, which he promptly unlocked.
Upon seeing him emerge, the man on the other side exclaimed in surprise, “Captain Raynalds. My sincerest apologies if I have disturbed you.”
Though the man clearly knew who he was, Theo did not know him. “Not at all. I was merely resting my legs.”
“Forgive me.” Sheepishness had replaced his outrage. “I thought perhaps someone within was…well, up to no good. I am sure you understand my concern.”
“Of course I do.” Theo hoped his guilty expression would not give him away. “Although, as you see, there is no one within but myself.”
“I will leave you then, with my sincerest apologies.”
When the gentleman retreated, Theo shut the door and returned to the closet. After letting Louisa out, he whispered, “We would be wise to make our exits separately.”
She looked up at him, her face barely visible in the darkness. “Would you like to go first or shall I?”
“You go,” he said quietly, “but not before we arrange our next meeting.”
He saw the faintest flicker of a smile. “Name the hour and place and I shall be there.”
“What about tomorrow after church?”
“A wonderful suggestion.” She kissed his cheek. “Let us take your carriage and steal away to some secluded place where we can do as we please without the risk of discovery.”
Twelve
That night, after she was sure her father was asleep, Louisa crept downstairs as quietly as she could. With her flickering candlestick leading the way, she went into the library and tried the doors on the secretaire bookcase. They were locked, as expected.
Quivering with a mixture of fear and excitement, she began her quest for the key. As she searched her father’s desktop and drawers, she took great care to return anything she disturbed to the exact place it had been when she came in. For her father was extremely fastidious. He would notice the smallest thing out of place. And then, he would know she’d been in here snooping.
Her gaze flicked toward the umbrella stand where Papa stored his birch rods. All of them had names—or, more accurately, titles—that corresponded with their size. The biggest, for example, was the King, the second biggest, the Duke, and so on.
As she continued her search, she wondered which he would use if he discovered Theo was secretly courting her. The King, probably. She cringed at the thought, for surely the biggest switch would strip the flesh from her bones.
She found the key where she should have looked first: under the blotter. Gripping it with trembling fingers, she approached the secretaire. With a soft click, the doors opened, revealing to her three shelves of books with blank spines. She withdrew a small red one and opened the cover, also unmarked. The frontispiece read: Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure.
Her heart beat faster as she smiled in triumph. It was just the sort of thing she’d hoped to find. After sharing so many passionate kisses with Theo, she had become extremely curious about the act of amorous congress. And how better to learn what to expect than by reading explicit literature?
Tonight, his fervent kisses had awakened in her feelings and sensations she’d never experienced before—or even knew were possible. Would he kiss her with equal passion tomorrow? Would he try to do more? Would she let him if he did?
Part of her wanted to—the part that could not bear the idea of Charles being the first and only man with whom she would ever be intimate. In fact, the thought of her cousin being free to touch her in her most private places was a constant torment to her soul. And, much as it plagued her heart, there was still every chance she would end up married to that cretin. For Theo had not yet proposed—nor given her any indication he meant to do so in time to save her from her worst nightmare.
Bringing her candle nearer, she scanned the first few pages in quest of what one might delicately describe as “the good parts.” At length, she found what she was looking for: a scene in which two prostitutes were voyeuristically obser
ving a tryst between a girl of eighteen and a swarthy young Italian man in his early twenties. To Louisa’s delight, many paragraphs were devoted to flowery descriptions of the man’s penis, which the author variously (and humorously) referred to as his “great instrument,” “weapon of pleasure,” and “red-headed champion,” among other euphemisms. Soon thereafter, they commenced the act of love, which the author described as follows:
He thrusts, she heaves, at first gently, and in a regular cadence; but presently the transport began to be too violent to observe any order or measure; their motions were too rapid, their kisses too fierce and fervent for nature to support such fury long: both seemed to me out of themselves: their eyes darted fires: “Oh! oh! I can’t bear it. It is too much. I die. I am going,” were Polly’s expressions of ecstasy: his joys were more silent: but soon broken murmurs, sighs heart-fetched, and at length a dispatching thrust, as if he would have forced himself up her body, and then the motionless languor of all his limbs, all shewed that the die-away moment was come upon him; which she gave signs of joining with by, the wild throwing of her hands about, closing her eyes, and giving a deep sob, in which she seemed to expire in an agony of bliss.
What Louisa read aroused in her such ungovernable longings she would have given herself to Theo in a heartbeat. Fortunately, he was not here, so her virtue was safe for the moment. But would it be tomorrow? And would it have been tonight had that gentleman not disturbed them in the banquet hall? For, as Theo so deliciously suckled her breast, she felt his “weapon of pleasure” poking her abdomen.
Closing her eyes, she tried to imagine what the Captain might look like without any clothing. Did he, like the Italian man, have “sprigs of hair about his paps that garnished his chest in a style of strength and manliness”? Did his “weapon” rise out of a thicket of curling hair that spread from the root all over his thighs and belly up to the navel? Was it of a size to frighten her?