She looked back at him, but she wasn’t seeing him. She was feeling him. His presence had a palpability for her. She felt as though he were touching her even though he was on one side of the threshold and she was on the other. It didn’t matter. He was somehow projecting his essence into the room, and she felt an incipient tightness in her chest.
Georgiana’s body was sending her many different messages, and the confusion froze her. She felt his attraction, even more powerful than before, but she couldn’t say for certain whether she liked this man. Her body practically ached for him, but her consciousness held her back.
She was on the verge of simply excusing herself on whatever flimsy pretext came to mind—a letter to write, a previous engagement—when Barnes, apparently sensing her conflict, somehow managed to scale back the intensity of his presence. Although he kept his hands on the doorframe, he straightened so he was no longer leaning into the room. He softened his expression and smiled. And he started talking about tennis again.
“You are faster,” he said, picking up the thread of their conversation, “and you are smarter. She plays by instinct, but with you, it’s skill.”
Georgiana was by no means immune to this kind of compliment, and hearing it settled her a little. It also gave her time to gather her wits and try to decide how she wanted to navigate the situation.
“I sense I’m being flattered,” she said, with an attempt at flippant lightness.
“I never flatter a woman,” Barnes said, looking more serious.
“Nonsense,” said Georgiana, “sometimes I think that’s all you do.”
“So you think that when I pay you a compliment it’s because I’m a flatterer and not because you’re extraordinary?”
Extraordinary. Although she didn’t have the hubris to apply the word to herself, even in thought, she did think herself, with some justification, a cut above other girls. By using the word, Barnes insinuated himself into the club of people with the discrimination to see her value. It was as though he had admired an obscure poet she loved, or praised an opaque work of philosophy in which she herself had found wisdom. With one word, he had widened her attraction to him so it was no longer limited to his physical being. She felt it almost like a puzzle piece snapping into place, a connection made.
Barnes stepped over the threshold, but didn’t come any farther into the room. “I’ve never met a girl like you,” he said, his tone low and husky, personal.
A snide remark about Alexandra Niven rose to Georgiana’s lips, but she swallowed it. She need not fear Miss Niven as a rival. That woman’s attractions were confined to a pretty face and figure, and fine, studied manners. A man like Barnes could wade in Miss Niven, but he could dive into Georgiana, and Georgiana knew it.
He reached out a hand and put it on her hip. He didn’t pull her to him, and she again had the sense that he was waiting for her to come to him. And she did. She stepped toward him and put her arms around his neck.
He backed her into the room, closed the door behind them, and they stood just inside. He could feel the points of her hip bones in the palms of his hands. He stroked her taut belly with his thumbs, just above the waistband of her pants, and found her navel through the fabric of her shirt. He pressed gently, and she felt as though he had tapped a nerve that ran from the back of her neck straight to the lips of her vulva. He encircled her waist with his hands, and when they didn’t quite meet, he squeezed her to fit. She gasped at the constriction.
And then he picked her up from the waist, as though she were a child. He raised her so high that her hair brushed the ceiling. The suddenness of the movement made her a little dizzy, and before she had regained her bearings he was lowering her, slowly. When her feet were still almost a foot off the floor, he widened his grip and she slipped down through his hands. She felt their pressure moving up the sides of her rib cage and then coming to rest on the outsides of her breasts as her feet touched the floor.
She felt his hands move to her back and finally, finally pull her to him. He tilted her head up with the touch of a finger under her chin, and leaned down to kiss her. She felt an overwhelming sensation of warmth. His body, his lips, his hands, all possessed a penetrating heat, as though he were made of pure animal energy. His tongue just barely met hers, and then retreated. He tasted of sweat, and she remembered his smell—earthen and green.
She remembered also the reddish hair showing where his shirt had been unbuttoned—was it only yesterday?—when they had stood together in the peacock pavilion. She reached up and unbuttoned one button, and there it was. She pressed her cheek against it, and felt his heartbeat, strong and insistent.
When she looked up at him, he surprised her by saying, “Come to the window. I want to see you in the light.”
Together they stood in the early evening sun that shone through the leaded panes of the bay window, and he undressed her. There was no haste, and no sense of abandon. He deliberately unbuttoned her blouse and pulled the muslin camisole she wore underneath over her head. Her pants fastened on the side, and he undid them and slid them down over her slender hips. She hadn’t had underthings appropriate to the pants, and so there was nothing else to take off.
She stood before him naked, and it felt right. He looked at her fully and frankly, and traced the lines on her body where the windowpane frames cast their shadow. She felt a combination of urgent arousal and absolute calm. She had, somehow, consigned herself to him, and was content to see what he would make of her.
“You’re lovely,” he said, but then checked himself. “No,” he corrected, “you’re flawless.”
He put his hands on her shoulders and pressed her gently down to the window seat, and then he took off his own clothes with a heedless-ness that contrasted with the care he had taken with hers. He stood before her with neither modesty nor pride. This was who he was, and this was what he had to offer.
The only penis she had ever seen was Jeremy’s, but she somehow wasn’t surprised that Barnes’s was different. It was larger, but he was the larger man. She reached out and took it in her two hands, feeling the veins running up its sides. This cock was somehow definitive, purposeful. She stroked its underside with one hand and, with the other, reached for his balls, which were taut and tight to his body.
The hair at the base of his penis was redder than the hair on his chest, and covered the point of the V shape his sharply defined stomach muscles made as they tapered down at his hips. She traced those lines up with her hands, and her eyes followed until she looked him in the face. His eyes, bright with desire, held hers. His large hands covered her small ones, and then moved up her arms to her shoulders, and then down to her small, firm breasts. She felt a tingling in her nerves and a sensitivity in her skin as goose bumps rose.
Barnes kissed her between her breasts, and at that moment their urgency broke through the calm, and they let their passions loose. They kissed deeply, greedily, each seeking to close the distance between them. She felt his hands, rough and hard, on her back and buttocks and thighs as she stood up, and she felt completely surrounded. She was hot, she was drenched, she was salty with the residue from the tennis, and she wanted him inside her as badly as she had ever wanted anything.
He put his hands in the crease where her ass met the backs of her thighs and lifted, his natural strength amplified by his desire. She briefly felt the air cool on her pussy as he opened her thighs, and then she wrapped her legs around his waist and he was inside her. For a long, tantalizing moment he held her still and they both felt the fit, tight and strong.
“It’s as though you were made for me,” he said a bit hoarsely.
“Perhaps I was,” she said, and smiled at him.
Entwined in front of the window, by the light of the reddening sunset, they made love. She cleaved to him, her arms on his shoulders, her thighs on his hips, and he slowly rocked her back and forth, starting small and slow. She arched her back and tightened her ass to feel him better, and feeling him brought her almost instantly to the b
rink. She relaxed again to recover herself, and he started moving her faster and harder against him.
She was so wet that he moved effortlessly in and out of her, and each time he thrust in, she felt a pressure deep inside her, where the tip of his cock was touching a part of her that had never been touched. The sensation was new, and powerful, and intimate, and she stopped him with her legs while he was deep inside. With him fully buried, and her clitoris hard against the base of his penis, she rocked her hips from side to side, the movement reverberating from the lips of her cunt up through his shaft, and dispersing through her entire body.
And then she lost control, and no force on earth could have stopped the pulses of all-encompassing pleasure from tearing through her. She moaned, low and long, and it was that moan, combined with the feel of her orgasm, that made him come. He held her like a vise against him as he erupted inside her, his orgasm peaking just as hers was subsiding.
He remained standing, and as her thoughts returned to her, she wondered that he could stand holding her, apparently effortlessly, seemingly forever. He put one forearm under her and held her to him with the other. Their sweat and their heartbeats mingled for a few moments, and then he set her down on the window seat. His softening penis glistened with her juices, and a small bead of semen hung on its tip. She took the drop on a fingertip, and ran the finger down his chest, tracing a line in the already damp hair.
He smiled at her and turned to collect both his clothes and hers. He handed her trousers and blouse to her, but she shook her head.
“I think I’m going to want a bath before dinner,” she said, and walked to her wardrobe for her dressing gown. As she wrapped herself in it, she actively wondered what she should say to him. She was still coming down from her high, and somehow, with Barnes, words didn’t seem quite the thing anyway.
“I won’t be at dinner,” said Barnes, “and I’ll be gone most of the morning tomorrow. I’m going to look at an estate in Romsey. Lord Chiltenham is thinking of buying it, and wants my opinion as to what might be made of it.”
“Oh,” said Georgiana, eyebrows raised. “It must be a fine thing to have one’s opinion solicited by such a man as Lord Chiltenham.”
Barnes looked as though he were about to demur, but then a grin broke out on his face. “It is at that,” he admitted, “it is at that.”
“Well, I hope it is all an estate should be, and that you have fine weather for your journey,” Georgiana said rather stupidly.
“May I come to see you when I return?” he asked, with a straightforward frankness that appealed to her.
“Yes” was the only answer she was able to give, and she gave it. They walked to the door, and he opened it. He kissed her softly and left.
After he was gone, Georgiana rang for Hortense and asked her to draw the much-needed bath. When she stepped into it, she thought a bath had never felt so good. She luxuriated in the big claw-footed tub and let the water’s warmth penetrate her tired body. The exertion first of the tennis, and then of her interlude with Barnes, had exhausted every muscle she had.
“Hortense!” she called, and her maid came into the bathroom. “Could you let Lady Loughlin know I won’t be coming down for dinner? I can’t bring myself to get dressed and face the company.” Knowing that Barnes wouldn’t be at dinner made the prospect of that meal much less compelling.
“Certainly, my lady,” said Hortense. “Shall I prepare a tray for you?”
“Just some tea and toast. I find I’m not hungry.”
When Hortense returned with the tray, she found her mistress already asleep. She left the tray on the night table and tiptoed out.
SEVEN
Georgiana slept soundly and long, and woke up refreshed, just in time for breakfast.
As she dressed and ran through the previous day’s events in her mind, she found she was not without misgivings. Her liaison with Barnes was quite different from her relationship with Jeremy Staunton. She and Jeremy were social equals; she and Barnes most certainly weren’t. And there were things about the man himself that gave her pause. She felt as though she were seeing only what he wanted her to see, that she didn’t know the whole man.
She was glad to meet Lady Loughlin on the stairwell as the two were going down to breakfast. She had resolved to tell her friend all, and seek her advice.
“Good morning, Paulette,” Georgiana said. “You’re looking well.”
Lady Loughlin was indeed looking well, happy and robust.
“Oh, I thrive on company, and we have it in abundance,” said the mistress of the house, laughing. “The only fly in my ointment is poor Freddy. For my part, I must admit I’m happy to have him home again, but his father is not of my opinion.” A momentary frown flashed over her face. “I daresay he’s coming ’round, though,” she continued, smiling again. “He was a shade less angry this morning than he was yesterday evening.”
“I haven’t seen him this morning,” said Georgiana. “Actually, I haven’t seen anyone. Where are they all? The house seems empty.”
“After yesterday’s match, everyone seems to have decided that tennis is quite the thing. Gerry challenged Alexandra to a match, so the poor girl is at it again. Most everyone else is in the gallery, watching age battle beauty.”
“The smart money’s on beauty,” said Georgiana. “Miss Niven is an excellent player.”
“Don’t count Gerry out. He’s a wily old creature, and if she’s got an Achilles’ heel, he’ll find it.”
“I certainly couldn’t find it, but I wish him luck.”
The two women walked companionably into breakfast, and took tea and what was left of the kippers and toast.
“Are you horrendously busy this morning?” Georgiana asked.
“I don’t have a thing, my dear,” answered Lady Loughlin. “I did all the planning ahead of time, and the house should run like clockwork, even if I were to drop dead on the spot. Do you have something in mind?”
“There’s something I’d like to talk to you about.”
“Well, fetch your bonnet when you’ve finished your kippers, and let’s go for a walk. We can try the labyrinth. It’s perfectly private.”
This suited Georgiana admirably, and the two women set out directly after breakfast.
As they walked across the grounds, Lady Loughlin asked Georgiana if she had been through the labyrinth already.
“Mr. Barnes showed it to me, but we didn’t go in,” she said. “He said he was afraid we’d never get out again.”
“Oh, rot,” said Paulette. “It’s not that difficult, and he knows it like the back of his hand. He was just trying to be mysterious.”
“Mrs. Sheffield was with us, and I suspect he didn’t want to prolong the tour,” said Georgiana rather ungraciously. But it was not the kind of slight to ruffle her hostess, who agreed with her friend’s assessment of her guest.
“I imagine you’re right. She has a way of making people want to limit the time they spend in her company.” And then Lady Loughlin’s expression changed, and she said slyly, “You, on the other hand, have a way of making people want to spend every spare moment with you.”
Georgiana reddened, and looked at her friend in surprise, not sure of the implications of this remark.
They had by this time reached the labyrinth, and Lady Loughlin stopped just outside its entrance. “That is what you want to speak to me about, isn’t it, dear?” she asked more gently. “Mr. Barnes’s spare moments?”
In the novels Georgiana was fond of reading, people’s jaws were always dropping when they were astonished. She hadn’t thought it really happened until she felt her own chin drop almost to her chest. “You mean you know?” she asked after a moment.
“Oh, dear, the whole house knows. It’s very difficult to keep a secret at Penfield.”
“But . . . how?” Georgiana spluttered.
“I don’t know the details,” said Lady Loughlin. “I never do. But I take it Barnes was spotted going into your room last night. And since Litt
le Eddie saw the two of you in the peacock pavilion the previous day, the servants’ hall put two and two together. I’m afraid the cat’s out of the bag.”
Georgiana was speechless, and her friend led her into the labyrinth, giving her some minutes to absorb this information as they progressed into the maze.
The absorption didn’t go well. Georgiana had been prepared to empty her heart, to tell her deepest secrets to this woman who was her friend. She loved Paulette, and thought much of her judgment. But now this conference, far from being a heart-to-heart, was an exercise in damage containment. Everyone in the house knew of her intimate affairs! Georgiana was mortified.
Her distress was written plainly on her face, and Lady Loughlin felt for her young companion.
“Oh, my dear,” she said with compassion, “it isn’t as bad as all that.”
“Isn’t it?” asked Georgiana, almost in tears. “Isn’t it as bad as ever it could be?”
Lady Loughlin stopped, put a hand on her friend’s arm, and turned to face her. “I have a question for you. It’s an impertinent question, no doubt, and you are under no obligation to give me an answer. But it’s a question you need to answer to yourself, if not to me.”
Georgiana was all attention.
“Are you ashamed of what you have done?” Paulette asked her. Georgiana was silent as she thought about this. She was uncertain of her feelings for Barnes. But she was certain that women should have the same kind of sexual freedom that men enjoyed, and she would not—no, she would not—be ashamed of exercising it.
“No,” she said, quietly but firmly, “I am not ashamed.”
Paulette nodded, having been almost certain that this would be Georgiana’s answer. As they resumed their walk through the maze, she said, “If you are not ashamed, then you should not be distressed.”
“But there are things that, while not shameful, one would not want the whole world talking of,” said Georgiana.
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