A Marriage of Notoriety

by Diane Gaston

  ‘Certainly!’ He took her hand and led her back to the pianoforte’s bench. ‘My sisters once insisted I learn to play. My lessons did not last long. I was much more interested in swordsmanship and shooting.’

  ‘As a soldier ought to be,’ she said.

  He joined her on the bench and together they picked out the notes to some of the country dances he’d purchased for her. Fairly soon they managed a pretty terrible rendition of ‘Miss Louisa Johnstone’s Fancy’ and ‘The Fairie’s Revels’.

  Laughing too hard to finish, she covered her mouth with her hand.

  He touched her ring. ‘Does the ring please you?’

  She held it up and watched the diamonds capture the light from the candles. ‘It is the most beautiful ring I could ever imagine,’ she answered truthfully, ashamed she’d not told him so before this.

  A smile flashed across his face. ‘I am glad.’

  He stared at her, his eyes darkening. ‘Have I made you happy today, Phillipa?’

  Her heart beat faster. ‘Yes.’ Her voice trembled. ‘Very happy.’

  He leaned closer to her. And closer.

  Very suddenly Phillipa forgot about music and pianofortes and rings. Nothing existed but Xavier, so very handsome and so very close. She felt his breath on her face, as soft as a butterfly’s wing. His lips came nearer. They touched hers gently and she felt every part of her flare with sensation.

  The kiss lasted only a moment, but when he moved away it felt like abandonment. He smiled again, but she was bereft. She needed that intimate connection with him. She needed to not be so alone any more.

  He closed the distance between them again, wrapping his arms around her and again seeking her lips. This kiss demanded more of her. She pressed her lips against his and savoured the warm fullness of his mouth. His tongue touched hers, tasting of peaches and claret, a sensation that surprised her, especially because it made other parts of her ache in response.

  She melted into his embrace, her hands flat against his back, feeling his muscled body even through his coat.

  He broke away again. ‘Shall I send for a maid to help you prepare for bed?’

  Had she displeased him?

  Something must have shown in her face because his brows knit. ‘It is our wedding night, Phillipa. Do you not wish to share my bed?’

  She blinked. ‘I thought you were sending me away.’

  He pulled her into an embrace. ‘Phillipa, you are my wife. I would not send you away on our wedding night.’

  Was he being kind again? She averted her face, hiding her scar from his view. ‘I—I never thought you would wish to bed me.’

  His expression hardened. ‘We are married, are we not?’

  ‘But—but I thought you merely were marrying me out of pity.’

  ‘Pity?’ His eyes narrowed in pain.

  Her heart sank. The last thing she wished was to upset him. ‘I will share your bed if you wish it, Xavier.’

  ‘I wish it. I wish for a marriage in every sense of the word.’ His eyes pierced hers. ‘In fact, I will not send for a ladies’ maid. I will perform that function myself.’

  He would undress her? Her eyes widened.

  He cupped her chin. ‘I will show you what a husband will do.’

  Felicia, her best friend, had hinted at the pleasures of being married and Phillipa knew what occurred between a man and a woman in bed. Who could not know who grew up on a farm? Or attended school where older girls were only too willing to tell. She had just given up hope of experiencing it for herself.

  He took her hand and led her to the bedchamber, a room so beautifully appointed she could understand why the Tsar of Russia chose this hotel over St James’s Palace.

  By the coals glowing in the fireplace she could see the maid had turned down the bed and laid out her nightdress. She watched the fire as he stood behind her and undid the laces of her gown, his fingers creating sensations so unexpected. So pleasant.

  Her dress slid to the thick carpet beneath their feet. She stepped out of it and slipped off her shoes. He ran his hands down her bare arms, his palms warming her. His touch felt comforting. And thrilling. His lips touched her neck and sensation flashed through her. She’d never guessed that a man’s kiss—Xavier’s kiss—could be felt all over her body.

  He untied her corset and loosened its laces so that it, too, joined her gown on the floor. All that covered her now was her thin muslin shift. He pulled the pins from her hair and combed through her curls with his fingers. To have him touch her hair was glorious. Who could imagine it to feel so different from a maid’s ministrations?

  Was this arousal? This feeling inside her? It surprised her and made her want more from him. He slipped his hands around her and cupped her breasts, stroking her until she thought she would go mad for yearning. He swept her into his arms and carried her to the bed. While she lay upon the feather bed, he rolled down her stockings, another sensation so intense she could not bear it. Nor bear for him to stop.

  But he stepped away from the bed and removed his clothes, peeling off first his coat, then his waistcoat, then his shirt. His skin glowed from the firelight and she could not look away when he removed his pantaloons and stood before her like a Greek statue.

  Adonis.

  He climbed on to the bed. Closer, she could see scars on his abdomen.

  She touched them. ‘Xavier?’

  He covered her hand with his. ‘A few battle wounds.’

  ‘You must have been gravely hurt!’ He’d been stabbed. Sliced.

  He took her hand away and kissed it. ‘Your half-brother carried me off the battlefield.’

  Rhys had saved him? She thanked God for her new brother.

  Xavier took her face in his hands and kissed her again, a long, lingering kiss that made her forget about battlefields.

  He lifted her shift and broke off the kiss long enough to pull it over her head. She lay naked next to him, a feeling so decadent she marvelled that it felt so right. Tentatively, she touched him again, this time feeling the contours of his muscles beneath her fingers.

  He kissed her again and ran his hands down her naked body and back to her breasts. He traced around her nipple with his fingers and the glorious sensations returned. Who knew a man’s fingers could create such sensations?

  He lay her on her back. ‘I will be gentle with you, I promise.’

  Gentle? She was not certain she wished him to be gentle. She wanted all of this experience, not pianissimo but forte.

  He touched her. Down there. And his fingers created new sensations, as forte as she could imagine, so intense she thought she could not bear it another moment. At the same time, she did not want him to stop.

  She moaned with pleasure and need.

  ‘It will bring you pleasure, Phillipa,’ he reassured her.

  He had already brought pleasure.

  His fingers were clever, bringing her body to new heights of experience. Her muscles reacted on their own, rising up to give him more access, to keep him from ever stopping.

  But he did stop and her body throbbed in disappointment. His body covered hers and she felt his male member touch her, press against her and then, as she trembled beneath him, slip inside her.

  A quick stab of pain seized her and her muscles stiffened in response.

  He froze, still inside her. ‘Did I hurt you?’

  She shook her head. ‘No.’ But she felt the dampness of her maidenhood flow from her.

  A moment later, the pain receded and her need grew.

  He moved inside her, slowly, rhythmically.

  She must remember this rhythm, she thought. She must try to recreate it. In her mind she heard what it might sound like on the pianoforte. Low notes with a unique timbre and vibrato.

  The tempo increased and the
music he created inside her grew louder, more intense. Her need grew as well, so strongly that it frightened her.

  Suddenly a sound from deep within his chest escaped him and he plunged into her and held her in place. She felt his seed spill inside her.

  A child, she thought. They might create a child from this act.

  The thought fled just as quickly. He pressed inside her once more and something exploded inside her. A crescendo of sensation. She cried out for the pleasure of it.

  He collapsed on top of her and she felt his weight for the first time. His skin was hot, damp, and his muscled body firm. He slid to her side and she took a breath. A strange languor came over her, as if her body had turned to melted candle wax.

  ‘Did I hurt you?’ he asked again.

  She shook her head. She wanted to tell him how marvellous it felt, but words would not come. The music of it resounded in her mind, but even that faded and suddenly the idea that she was naked beside him made her shy. It had happened so fast, this lovemaking, this marriage, she’d not had time to think.

  She’d certainly had no time to realise he’d want the physical side of marriage with her.

  He rose on one elbow and stared down at her. ‘Are you certain you are unharmed? I ought to have been more gentle. I am sorry for it.’

  She found the bed sheet and covered her body with it. ‘I am unharmed.’

  He smiled and brushed her hair away from her face. ‘The first time can be painful for a woman sometimes,’ he explained. ‘It will get better, I promise.’

  It could be better than this? That defied logic.

  He lay at her side, but continued to play with her hair, threading it through his fingers. He gazed at her face. ‘You are beautiful, Phillipa.’

  She tensed and turned her head away, hiding her scarred cheek. She was not beautiful. This she knew. He could not possibly think so.

  Her body turned numb and she turned away from him.

  He cupped her cheek and made her look back at him. ‘You must believe me. You are beautiful.’

  She could not. He was merely being kind. He had been kind to marry her.

  She thought of Lady Faville and all the other beautiful women he might have married and she was sorry he’d felt obligated to marry her. It could not have been more than pity for the shabby way her mother had treated her that led him to choose her over such worthy women.

  ‘Phillipa?’ He looked concerned.

  She owed it to him to pretend everything was perfect, even though she knew it was not. He’d tried so hard to please her. He’d made such a sacrifice.

  She reached over and kissed him, not a very good kiss, more like one given to an elderly uncle, but the best she could muster.

  ‘Thank you for a perfect day.’ She made herself smile. She made herself snuggle against him and pretend to fall asleep.

  Although it took a very long time for sleep to come.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Xavier woke to sun streaming through the windows. And to an empty bed, an empty bedchamber. He rose and wrapped his banyan around him and walked into the sitting room. She was seated there, dressed in her nightdress, gazing out the window.

  ‘Phillipa?’

  She turned at the sound of his voice and smiled. ‘Good morning.’

  There was a reserve in her voice he could not like. He wanted her to feel comfortable with him, but perhaps the night before had upset her. He had not been gentle enough. His own need for her had surged too strong, too urgent. He had been able to bring her pleasure, of that he was certain, but they had a long way to go.

  In any event, he must tread carefully with her and not expect too much of her. Theirs was not a typical marriage. It would take time for her to realise that he wanted them to get on well together, to forge a life together.

  ‘Have you been up long?’ he asked.

  ‘Not too long,’ she replied, which could have meant hours or minutes.

  ‘And you have been sitting here the whole time?’

  ‘Not all the time,’ she said. ‘I used the water closet. How marvellous for a hotel to have such a thing! I read about them, of course.’

  He did not want to talk about the water closet. ‘Did you sleep well?’

  ‘Yes,’ she replied.

  This was still like talking with a stranger. Much too polite.

  He sat in a chair across from her, but she seemed distant. ‘Shall I order breakfast?’

  She glanced down. ‘May I be dressed first?

  ‘Of course.’ He paused, uncertain how to anticipate what would make her most at ease. ‘Shall I send for a maid?’

  Her smile seemed stiff. ‘Now? That would be fine.’

  * * *

  He sent for a maid and a valet and, after they were both dressed, he’d ordered breakfast. When they were eating it, she asked, ‘What happens today?’

  He wanted to please her. ‘We need to find a place to live, but that is not likely to be accomplished today. Would you like to stay here? Or we can stay at the Masquerade Club. Rhys no longer uses his rooms there. And he is away.’ With his wife.

  Having agreed to watch the Masquerade Club in Rhys’s absence, Xavier could not take Phillipa on a bride trip of her own. Perhaps later she would fancy a trip to Paris or Italy. Or Vienna. Wherever great music might be found.

  ‘I cannot see staying here if you will be needed at the gaming house,’ she responded. ‘It must be very expensive to stay here. You do not need to spend so much money on me.’

  He wanted to spend money on her, but something in her tone told him to simply do as she said.

  * * *

  Later that morning Cummings opened the door to the gaming house and they entered. MacEvoy happened to be in the hall as well.

  ‘I am glad you are both here.’ Xavier said.

  ‘Come closer.’ MacEvoy gestured. ‘Let us have a look at you.’

  Phillipa stepped forwards and, with only brief hesitation, lifted the netting away from her face.

  Xavier gestured to Cummings. ‘Let me present you to my wife.’

  Cummings bowed. ‘Mrs Campion. Welcome back.’ The corner of his mouth twitched.

  ‘Welcome back? You remember me?’ Phillipa asked.

  ‘The pianiste,’ Cummings said. Phillipa extended her hand. ‘It is good to be back.’

  Cummings rubbed his hand on his coat before accepting hers.

  ‘Hope you slept well last night,’ MacEvoy said with a wink.

  ‘Yes.’ Phillipa blushed. ‘We slept well.’

  Xavier said, ‘We will be staying here until we find a house.’

  Cummings took something from his pocket. ‘This arrived. Delivered from Stephen’s Hotel.’

  ‘Thank you, Cummings.’ It was from his parents. ‘A pianoforte will arriving here today. You may have it put in the drawing room.’

  He’d already closed his rooms at Stephen’s Hotel and had his trunk delivered here. Perhaps today they could arrange for Phillipa’s things, as well.

  When they reached Rhys’s private rooms, Phillipa asked, ‘Is the letter from my mother?’

  He shook his head. ‘From my mother.’

  He showed her the bedchamber and placed their bags there. ‘Would you like to unpack?’

  ‘In a moment.’ She removed her hat and gloves and unbuttoned her coat.

  He stepped over and embraced her from behind. ‘Everything will turn out well, Phillipa. Do not fear.’

  She stepped out of his embrace and he helped her remove her coat. ‘I am trying to get used to it.’ She looked around the room, turning away from the bed. ‘Should you not open your letter?’

  ‘I should.’ He broke the seal and unfolded the paper. ‘They are in town.’ He glanced up at her. ‘Would you be wi
lling to call upon them with me?’

  She turned away. ‘Perhaps you had better see them yourself and tell them. You must tell them before they read it in the newspaper.’

  ‘I agree, but come with me.’ He wanted her to be used to them together. The more people who saw her as Mrs Xavier Campion, the better.

  She faced away from him. ‘This will not be happy news for them.’

  He laughed. ‘Do you jest? They will be over the moon about it! They have wanted to see me settled since the end of the war.’

  ‘But to me?’ Her voice was almost inaudible.

  He made her look at him. ‘Our families have always been friends. Why would they not want to see me married to you?’ She tried to turn away, but he would not let her. ‘I insist. You must come. We should call on them right away.’

  She took a deep breath and released it. ‘Very well. Help me with my coat again. Let us go now, before I lose courage.’

  * * *

  It was as Xavier predicted. His parents were surprised. Shocked. And Phillipa supposed they were also mystified as to why he had chosen her, of all women, but they had always been kind people.

  Like their son.

  Lord and Lady Piermont welcomed her with open arms, broke out a bottle of sherry to toast to their future and insisted that Xavier and Phillipa come to dinner. Worse, Lady Piermont also sent an immediate invitation to Phillipa’s mother to also come to dinner and she sent her kitchen staff into a flurry of activity to produce a dinner worthy of celebrating a marriage.

  Xavier and his father set off to look for lodgings for the newly married couple and Lady Piermont enlisted Phillipa’s help in writing letters to all Xavier’s siblings, informing them of the marriage. Fortunately none of Xavier’s siblings was in town. Lord and Lady Piermont were only there on their way to the country house for the harvest and hunting season.

  ‘You and Xavier must come to the country with us,’ his mother said.

  Her natural good cheer could not help but lift Phillipa’s spirits. ‘He must attend to the gaming house in my brothers’ absence. He promised Rhys.’ At her new mother-in-law’s disappointed look, Phillipa added, ‘Perhaps when Rhys returns.’

  That made Lady Piermont smile.