by Diane Gaston
Phillipa did not want to share tea with this man!
But Xavier held a chair for her and she had no choice but to sit. Jeffers took a water kettle from the fireplace and poured water into a teapot.
After he poured the tea into cups, he sat as well. ‘I will answer your question now, m’lady. There was no good excuse for attacking you. It was wrong of me.’
‘He was starving,’ Xavier explained.
Jeffers lowered his head. ‘That I was, ma’am, but, even so, I should not have done what I did. Not to you, not to anybody.’
‘No, you should not,’ she said curtly, not so willing to forgive him as Xavier had apparently done.
Jeffers nodded. ‘I agree, ma’am. I do not deserve this opportunity Mr Campion has given me. I do not know what would have become of me if he had not found me that day.’
‘Opportunity?’ She did not understand.
‘Mr Campion provided the money for this shop. We are just getting started, but we will make a success of it.’ He gestured to the men at work. ‘It has been manna from heaven to these men and to me. We had no work, but now—’ He glanced around the room again. ‘Look at us.’
* * *
Xavier tried to gauge Phillipa’s reaction. Would she disdain him for running a shop? For helping Jeffers? Her face was too shrouded by her hat’s netting for him to tell.
‘They are all former soldiers,’ he explained to her. ‘Let go from their regiments and reduced to begging on the streets. Or worse.’ Like Jeffers, turning to crime. ‘I had money to invest. I thought why not make good use of it?’ He might as well tell her all. ‘I also have a candle maker.’
‘And I’ve a line on an ironmonger, if you fancy an ironmonger’s shop,’ Jeffers said.
Xavier glanced to him. ‘Excellent idea.’
She gaped at them both.
He faced her again and continued. ‘I had the idea from the Burlington Arcade. I was tired of seeing so many soldiers begging on the street. Why not put them to work.’
‘You did this to give men work?’ Her voice sounded stunned.
‘Never you fear, my lady,’ Jeffers broke in. ‘We will be paying Mr Campion back and then some. He will have a share of our profits, from now to for ever.’
He was a shopkeeper. Better for her to know it now.
It would have been better still if he had told her before marrying her, but he’d wanted nothing to keep her from saying yes.
He waited for her to speak now.
She turned to Mr Jeffers. ‘Did you make all the furniture in the front in this short space of time?’
Jeffers looked proud. ‘We did our best. Cannot make money without goods to sell.’
‘It is a remarkable feat,’ she said.
Jeffers beamed. ‘It is furniture for ordinary folk. That is who we expect to buy our cabinets.’
She stood. ‘I spied a cabinet in the shop that interested me.’
She’d given no indication.
Jeffers popped out of his seat and led her back to the front of the shop. She pointed to a small commode, lacking the usual elaborate decoration.
‘I quite like this piece,’ she said. ‘What is its price?’
‘My lady.’ Jeffers was near fawning. ‘It is yours. We shall deliver it to you today.’ He turned to Xavier. ‘We found a soldier with a horse and cart to make our deliveries.’
‘Deliver it to my residence.’ He gave Jeffers the direction to the gaming house.
* * *
After the arrangements were made, they were back on the street, walking towards the coach stand.
Once back in the hack, Xavier could wait no longer. ‘You needed to learn about the shops. About Jeffers.’ He paused. ‘It is not the sort of business a gentleman engages in, but soldiers needed jobs and I could create them. I’m not stopping with one or two. I’m determined to have several shops and to have them all succeed. They will make money, never fear.’
She turned to him and lifted her netting. ‘I do not know anyone who would do what you did.’
‘It begs for society’s censure. I realise that.’ He could point out that her family had invested in a gaming house. Were shops any worse? ‘But no one knows, except you. And my solicitor. But not my parents. Not even Rhys.’
‘Why did you tell me?’ she asked.
‘I could not withhold from you that I was in business with a man who had tried to rob us. Or that I’d turned shopkeeper.’
Her gaze turned even more intent. ‘It is good you told me. I detest it when I am protected from the truth, as you well know. I would be unhappy indeed if you kept secrets from me like my family did.’
Except he was keeping one secret—what he knew about her accident, and was honour-bound not to tell.
Chapter Seventeen
They fell silent in the carriage. Phillipa pulled down her netting, but only so she could look at her husband without him knowing.
What sort of man would do what he’d done? Members of the ton looked down their noses at any man who ran a shop. He smells of trade, they would say.
But Xavier invested in shops for only one reason—to give unemployed soldiers decent jobs. He’d even saved Jeffers from a life of crime or a hangman’s noose.
‘Xavier.’ Her voice came out low and husky.
He turned to her.
‘I am glad you brought me to Cheapside.’
His features relaxed for a moment then tensed again. ‘The shops will be successful, you will see.’
‘I have no doubt,’ she responded. ‘Jeffers and the other men will work hard for you.’
He took her hand and brought it to his lips.
‘There is just one thing,’ she went on.
‘What is it?’ he asked.
She smiled. ‘I believe my mother will have apoplexy if she discovers this!’
He laughed. ‘My parents as well.’
She shook her head. ‘You are wrong there. You could not displease your parents no matter what you did.’
The netting on her hat did not protect her from the intensity of his gaze. She felt as if he was searching to see if she really approved of his shops.
She did approve. In fact, her chest swelled with pride for him.
‘Phillipa,’ he whispered, lifting the netting away from her face and kissing her lips, a long, lingering, tongue-to-tongue kiss that made her body ache, a sweet ache that begged for more from him.
Before their first night together she would not have known what the yearning inside her meant. Now she knew she wanted him inside her, creating that sweet music with her.
He pulled her on to his lap and she felt his arousal. Did he want her?
He was under no obligation to make love to her at this moment.
She kissed him back to show him she intended to please him the way a wife should—in bed, or in the cab of a hackney.
The excitement inside her surged and she plunged her fingers into his hair.
He groaned and cupped her breast, his hand driving her need to greater heights. She felt giddy and light-headed and lost to awareness of anything but him.
‘I have an idea.’ He broke away from her and opened the window to the jarvey. ‘Take us to Dover Street.’
The coach turned right off of Piccadilly on to Dover Street and stopped.
‘Here, sir?’ the jarvey called through the window.
‘Here will do,’ Xavier replied.
He opened the door and helped Phillipa out.
‘What is your idea?’ Phillipa asked.
He raised a finger for her to wait and paid the jarvey.
‘Thank you, Mr Campion,’ the man responded enthusiastically.
He turned back to Phillipa and pulled something from his pocket.
The key to the house he’d leased.
She still did not understand. ‘We are visiting the house again?’
He smiled. ‘We are indeed.’
He unlocked the door and they entered the house. As soon as he closed the door behind them and locked it again, he scooped her up in his arms.
‘What are you doing?’ she cried.
He gave her a quick kiss. ‘Carrying you to our bed.’
* * *
Xavier’s spirits soared as he carried her up the stairs to the bedchamber.
To the bed.
He turned the covers down and lay her on the bed linens, but she immediately sat up, untying the ribbons of her hat and pulling it off her head. She put her arms around him and kissed him with an energy that merely aroused him more.
When he had time to take a breath, he asked, ‘How do you feel about making love to me in the daylight, in the afternoon? There is no one here to know. No one but you and me.’
She lowered her lashes. ‘I am willing to try.’
He grinned. ‘You never disappoint me, Phillipa.’
She glanced up at him as if surprised.
He was determined to convince her that he desired her. At the moment his desire was so strong he wanted to ravish her. He kissed her lips, her nose, her once-wounded cheek. ‘May I love you, Phillipa?’
She nodded and returned his kisses, gently touching her lips to his mouth, his nose, his cheek, so innocently passionate it made even his heart ache for her.
He peeled off his coat and reached around her to untie her laces. As she wriggled out of her dress, he removed his waistcoat and untied his neckcloth. She spun around on the bed so that he could reach the strings of her corset. He untied the undergarment, loosened its laces and pulled it over her head. He threw off his shirt and undid the buttons of his pantaloons. Just in her shift, she watched him, her face flushed.
It was bold of her to watch him so brazenly. He felt a surge of pride in her because of it. He enjoyed her heated gaze as he stripped himself of his pantaloons and drawers and stood before her naked. And aroused.
Her eyes did not leave him as she lifted her shift and revealed herself to him. The afternoon light from the window made her skin glow. Her breasts were high and firm and her nipples a dark rose against skin, so smooth it begged for touching. She was lean, but not delicate, her waist narrow, but not tiny, her hips just full enough. He let his gaze wander over her, savouring her like one might savour a fine wine. His eyes lowered to the dark patch of hair between her legs.
He climbed up on the bed and took her in his arms, lifting her on top of him, luxuriating in the feel of those breasts, that skin.
His body urged him to lift her on to his erection and take her quickly, but he forced himself to a slower pace. He did not want to cheat her of her climax. She’d learned of that pleasure in their first lovemaking and he would not deprive her of it now. His pleasure alone was not enough. This time he was determined to show her what pleasure they could create together. He rolled her to his side and stroked her arms, her neck, and let his hand slip down to her breasts.
His palm scraped her nipple and she moaned with pleasure.
This was what he’d longed for between them all those nights when they’d been alone. He’d never truly compromised her, but it was not for want of desiring to. Now she was his wife. He could look forward to night after night like this. Making love. Sharing passion.
He slowly rubbed the tip of her nipple with palm of his hand until she trembled against him. Was there any sensation to compare? This intimate touch. This skin against bare skin.
His hand moved down her body until he fingered her most feminine place. Her legs parted for him and he circled his fingers, feeling her grow wet for him.
As before he slipped his fingers inside her, immediately relishing the sensation of warmth that greeted him. She writhed beneath him, covering his hand with hers as if she feared he would move his away.
No chance of that. He stroked her most sensitive spot, feeling her sensation build, greater and greater. He would show her. He could give her pleasure this way first and still bring her to climax with him inside her. He stroked with his fingers until her glorious spasm erupted.
‘Xavier!’ Her voice was half-question, half-demand.
He could wait no longer. He needed to be inside her.
‘There is more, Phillipa,’ he rasped.
‘Show me,’ she cried.
He rose above her, his erection rock-hard and demanding release, but he banked the urge, instead forcing himself to ease into her slowly. Her body was still unused to this and he wanted to spare her any pain or soreness.
Her hands flattened against his rear, pressing him against her, and her hips rose to meet him.
This was what it meant to be joined with her in marriage. Nothing would put them asunder, he would see to that. Nothing would stop them from making this a marriage even stronger than his parents’. He and Phillipa were meant for each other and had been since they were mere children.
A moment later those thoughts fled, all thought fled. His body moved faster, urgently plunging into her.
She kept pace with him, making it a physical kind of music with him that turned louder, stronger, and stronger still.
He felt her climax, a convulsion around him that drove him over the edge. His seed burst from him, long and gratifying.
He collapsed on top of her and moved to her side before his weight crushed her. He held her against him, never wanting to release her.
‘Xavier,’ she murmured.
‘This is what it will be like for us,’ he whispered to her before closing the distance between his lips and hers.
A little later they played the music again. Low and slow, but building to a frenzy of pleasure. He could have gone on to a third performance, but this was enough for one afternoon’s interlude.
They had the rest of their married lives to complete the act.
* * *
Phillipa lay sated in his arms, her lids and limbs heavy, but her happiness danced upon the ceiling. Was it possible that this was what married life would be like? Could their nights be like this? Their afternoons?
He had desired her in this way. They’d created pleasure together. It was a good place to start making a real marriage.
He grinned at her. ‘We have had quite a day, Mrs Campion.’
She sighed. ‘Quite a few days.’
Her female parts still throbbed with pleasure. She wondered if they’d created a baby this afternoon. How wonderful that would be! She’d never dreamed she’d have babies of her own, but, because of Xavier, she could dream of it now.
She pressed her hand against her abdomen.
With Xavier anything seemed possible.
They sat propped up against the pillows. ‘This is an adequate bedchamber, do you not think?’
A thrill rushed through her. This was her bedchamber. They would share their nights together here. ‘I think it is a lovely room.’
‘We should move in here as soon as possible,’ he said.
They talked about hiring servants, how many they would need, agreeing on as few as possible to start.
‘I’ll contact the agent tomorrow,’ he said. ‘We can set up the interviews for the next day and perhaps be in this house in three days’ time.’
She laughed. ‘Will my head never stop spinning?’
He hugged her. ‘First thing we move in is your pianoforte.’
Events might still resemble a whirlwind, but one thing was certain. She felt easy with him again. She could say whatever she wished to him and he would always be open with her.
‘I have no need of living extravagantly,’ she said, confident he would understand. ‘In fact, I prefer to live quietly.’
&n
bsp; He frowned. ‘Do not hide yourself away entirely, Phillipa.’
She dreaded the thought of attending a ball or musicale with him. She could almost hear the talk. He is so handsome, why did he marry her?
He hugged her. ‘And we must do something for your music. We must see about publishing some of your songs.’
‘Do you think they are good enough?’ She knew he would tell her the truth.
‘To me they seem as good as the other songs you perform,’ he replied. ‘Some are better.’
She felt a rush of pride and delight.
Perhaps he had been correct. Even though he’d been honour-bound to marry her, perhaps they could be happy together. She loved him and perhaps in his way he loved her, too.
She snuggled against his bare chest and marvelled at the feel of the rough hairs peppering his skin and of the hard muscles beneath.
She had always loved him.
The marred and imperfect Phillipa Westleigh was in love with Xavier Campion, the perfect man.
Chapter Eighteen
It was near the dinner hour when they returned to the Masquerade Club. To Xavier it seemed as if they’d been gone for weeks.
So much had changed between them.
Cummings and MacEvoy did not mark their absence as anything extraordinary, though. Even Phillipa’s lady’s maid had kept herself busy organising the bedchamber and sorting out their clothes. She’d already put to use the commode that had been delivered from Jeffers’s shop.
Perhaps their absence had only been remarkable to the two of them.
Xavier felt altered. Not only was he becalmed as only sexual satiety could accomplish, but he felt hopeful and content. He’d made Phillipa happy today.
He wanted to make her happy every day.
* * *
By the time he and Phillipa had changed out of their clothes into their evening attire, dinner was ready and was shared in the comfortable camaraderie they’d engaged in since making love. After dinner they sat in the drawing room. He sipped some brandy and listened to her play her pianoforte, the one that would soon be moved to their own house.