My Lady's Pleasure

Home > Other > My Lady's Pleasure > Page 16
My Lady's Pleasure Page 16

by Olivia Quincy


  Her moan told him it was time. Together, perfectly together, they reached a climax like none either of them had ever known. As she came, she contracted harder around him, intensifying his release. As he came, he filled her wider and deeper, intensifying hers. And the water! Water everywhere, caressing, flowing, completing.

  It took a long time for the last small waves to work themselves through their two bodies, and it was only after they had both fully recovered that Barnes eased himself out of her and she put her feet back on the lake bottom.

  Georgiana looked Barnes full in the face. “That was truly extraordinary,” she said.

  “There are many extraordinary things in the world.” He gave her a look full of meaning.

  “And you could give me a guided tour, I’ve no doubt,” she said, and laughed as she turned and headed for dry land.

  “And what a tour it would be,” he said, and followed her out of the water.

  Onshore, Barnes handed her his shirt. “You can use this to dry off,” he said.

  “But then what will you wear?”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll walk you back until you’re in sight of the house, and then I’ll just duck off to my cottage. I don’t think we’ll meet anyone, and I trust you won’t mind if I’m shirtless.”

  “No,” she said, and ran her hands down his bare chest affectionately. “No, indeed.”

  She put her clothes on slowly, in no hurry to return to the house and other people. The evening had had an air of unreality, and she was hanging on to the last moments, savoring them. When at last she was dressed, they strolled back toward the house arm in arm, Georgiana thinking how natural it felt to be with him.

  When the house came into view, Barnes kissed her forehead and they parted company. She made her way up to her room, saying just a few polite words to dinner’s last stragglers, still arranged in one or two small groups in the drawing rooms. When she reached her room, Hortense was turning down her bed and laying out her nightclothes. The hot milk she’d asked for was on the dressing table.

  “Oh, what a welcome draft,” she said. “I’d completely forgotten that I’d requested it.”

  “As soon as you left, I asked Rose to fetch it later, and she’s just now brought it,” said Hortense.

  “Thank you,” said Georgiana. “And you may go. I won’t be needing you this evening.” She wanted to be alone.

  “Yes, my lady.” Hortense gave a perfunctory curtsy and left the room.

  Georgiana donned her nightdress, got under the covers, and settled in to enjoy her milk and her thoughts. The discomfort she’d felt when she first learned that everyone in the house knew about her affair with Barnes had completely dissipated. How could anything that felt so right be wrong? And if it wasn’t wrong, what did she care for the world’s censure?

  Her determination to defy that censure felt almost virtuous. Respectable men had been enjoying such pleasures since . . . well, since the very dawn of respectability, she supposed. And why should respectable women be denied?

  What never crossed her mind was the idea that something other than pleasure was at stake. That they might have a life together was a possibility she never entertained.

  When—if, really—she married, she knew she would marry a man who could walk in her world, who could talk of her world, who could live in its midst. Barnes was not such a man. But such a man as he was could touch her deeply! She lay in bed reliving the moments until she began to feel drowsy.

  Just down the hall was another young woman snug in her bed, drinking hot milk, reliving moments. Alexandra Niven was thinking that she had never had such an enjoyable day, and that perhaps she should make it a habit to twist her ankle. She thought of Freddy and how he’d carried her up to the house, and the attention he’d paid to her over dinner. She thought of the feeling she’d had wearing Georgiana’s trousers. She thought of Gerry, and wondered why he hadn’t appeared at dinner.

  The soft bed and the warm covers eventually took their toll, and Alexandra felt her eyes struggling to stay open. She reached over to the nightstand to put her empty cup back in its saucer, and only then did she see the folded piece of paper that had been hidden under the cup. She picked it up with puzzlement, but with some pleasurable anticipation. A billet-doux?

  She unfolded it and read the one word printed there: Harlot.

  The pleasant thoughts of her day and her suitors turned to ashes. How could anyone call her such a thing? Who could want to call her such a thing? What had she done that merited such a charge?

  Her mind raced. Had she opened herself to such hostility simply by wearing trousers? By letting Freddy carry her? Could Miss Mumford’s reconciliation have been a sham, and this the manifestation of her disapproval? Could Gerry be jealous of the attentions Freddy was paying her?

  She was now wide awake, but uncertain of what she should do. She was sitting stiffly upright in her bed, the note crumpled in her hand. It occurred to her to ring for Miss Mumford, but if that lady had sent the note she clearly couldn’t be confided in. And if she hadn’t sent the note, Alexandra thought it might be better if the secret could be kept from her.

  Could she go find Georgiana? She knew she could confide in her friend, but it was too late to visit her in her room. She wanted desperately to tell someone, but there was no one to whom she could go.

  And then she felt an unpleasant—and unfamiliar—rumbling in her bowels. At first she put it down to her distress, but then its insistence indicated that it was something more. She leaped out of bed and positively ran for the toilet, her injured ankle forgotten in the mad dash.

  The toilet was where she remained for some good part of the night, her insides in an uproar. At first, she couldn’t understand what had happened. She thought it must be something she ate, but the turmoil was like nothing she’d ever experienced from food gone off. Besides, her constitution was excellent, and food seldom disagreed with her.

  It was somewhere near three a.m. when it dawned on her that there had been something in the milk. When she first sipped it, she thought it had a funny taste, but it didn’t seem sour or rancid, and the taste wasn’t unpleasant, so she drank it. And this was the price.

  THIRTEEN

  She woke to the sound of a timid knock.

  “Alexandra, dear,” said the voice of Miss Mumford through the door, “are you quite all right?”

  “I am,” she called. “Come in.”

  Miss Mumford opened the door just far enough to slip through, and then closed it behind her. She was going to make a feeble little joke about Miss Niven’s lying so late in bed, but the haggard expression on the girl’s face checked her. “Is something wrong?” she asked, with real concern.

  Having just woken, Alexandra wasn’t thinking clearly, and wasn’t sure whether or not she wanted to tell Miss Mumford about last night’s events. “I honestly don’t know,” she finally said. Then, thinking better of the ambiguity, she added, “but I think everything is fine.”

  “I’m glad,” said her companion, but with some skepticism. “Mr. Gerard is outside. He noticed that you didn’t come down to breakfast, and was concerned that your injury was keeping you in bed. He didn’t think it proper to come up here alone, so he asked me to accompany him to check on you.”

  Alexandra was touched by this show of concern, and immediately got out of bed, donned her dressing gown, and limped to the door. “Hello, Gerry,” she said, smiling at him as she opened it.

  “Hullo, Miss Niven! I’m awfully glad to see you up and about. I worried when you didn’t come down to breakfast.”

  “I overslept, I’m afraid,” she said. “Please come in and sit down.” Alexandra stepped aside, motioned him in, and gestured to a chair next to the bed. He wouldn’t sit down, though, until he had given her his arm and helped her back up onto her bed.

  This gave Alexandra a few moments to gather her wits. Under no circumstances did she want to tell Gerry about the note and the tainted milk, and she needed to put the incident in the back of her m
ind while he was there.

  She forced a smile. “I missed you at dinner last night.”

  “I’m ashamed to say I was all in. I’m not used to punting, and although I didn’t feel the exertion at the time—I had such diverting company—I did feel it later. I had a chop in my room and turned in early.”

  “You missed my coronation.” Gerry looked at her quizzically. “By virtue of a twisted ankle, I was queen of dinner,” she said with mock majesty. “I was placed on a throne in the drawing room and waited on hand and foot.”

  “By Jove, if I had been there I would have waited on you with both hands and both feet,” her visitor said with feeling. “But here I am gabbing on when you haven’t had any breakfast. Should you like to come down for some tea and toast?”

  The very thought of food made Alexandra queasy, but she thought she could stomach a cup of tea. “Perhaps a cup of tea,” she said, “but I think I’d like to ring for it. I’m not quite ready to go downstairs.”

  “Let me get it,” said Miss Mumford, so eager to reestablish herself in Alexandra’s good graces that she was willing to set aside her scruples about leaving her charge alone in the room with an unmarried man.

  As soon as she was gone, Gerry turned his chair toward the bed and looked at Miss Niven with uncharacteristic earnestness.

  “Miss Niven,” he said, “I’m glad to have an opportunity to see you alone, because there’s something very particular I want to say.”

  Miss Niven’s experience of the world, limited as it was, had taught her what to expect when a gentleman says he has something particular to say, and she felt a warm glow at the thought of it.

  “These last few days have been some of the best I’ve had in a very long time. And, although I know a lot of the people here, and have always enjoyed my stays at Penfield, this visit has been so particularly . . . topping.” He settled for the word as he couldn’t think of a better one. “And it’s all been because you are here.”

  Alexandra looked down modestly, but didn’t interrupt. “There are so many blasted clichés about men and women and love and sunshine and all that,” he went on, “but this is the very first time I’ve ever felt a woman’s presence brightening everything around me. You simply make everything better.

  “I know my shortcomings,” continued Gerry. “I’m old, I’m set in my ways, and I’m certainly no beauty.” He swallowed and looked at the floor. “But the thing is, I love you. And I’m hoping that, perhaps, you could learn to love me.” He took her hand and got down on one knee by the side of the bed. “Miss Niven. Alexandra. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

  He swallowed audibly. This hadn’t been easy for him. The day before, he’d spent all afternoon and evening contemplating this step, and was absolutely sure he wanted to take it. Nevertheless, the actual taking of it felt difficult and momentous.

  Alexandra’s head was in a whirl. What was she to say to him? She was sure she wasn’t ready to say yes, but neither was she inclined to say no. And she would not, could not, must not toy with his affections.

  Before she said a word, though, she had to get him off his knee. Because the bed was high, when he knelt next to it she could see only the top half of his face, which gave his proposal a comical air. Because the matter was so very serious, Alexandra wanted him to reclaim his dignity before she spoke with him about it.

  “Please, please get up.” She pulled the hand that still held hers, and gestured for him to take his chair again.

  Then it was her turn to swallow. Finding the right words would have been difficult even had her head been clear and her stomach calm.

  “Gerry, you do me an honor that I did not look for and have not expected,” she began. But the words sounded stilted and false even to her own ears, and she did not like it.

  “That is,” she corrected, “in the sense that good girls are never to expect such a thing.” She smiled slyly and he laughed out loud. Her small joke brought back to him all the reasons he admired her, and he sat more at his ease.

  “I am deeply, gratefully sensible of what an honor it is,” she said, seriously this time, looking him in the eye.

  “Isn’t that what girls generally say when they’re about to say no?” Gerry asked.

  “I have very little information about what girls generally say on these occasions. I can tell you only that what I say is what I mean. I believe you to be a good, kind, well-meaning man. I have enjoyed your company.” She felt the weight of her earnestness, and sought to lighten her little speech. “And I don’t believe you’re as old or as ugly as you seem to think.”

  His laugh was more of a grunt, braced as he was for what he thought was to come.

  “I cannot accept you,” she said gently. “But nor can I reject you. If you ask me whether I love you, I can say only that I do not. But if you ask me whether I can love you, I have to say that I might, with time, learn to do so. I know that is an unsatisfactory answer,” she started to say, but saw that Gerry was beaming. Absolutely beaming, with a smile that took over his entire face.

  “By Jove, that’s no sort of rejection at all! Which makes it an absolutely satisfactory answer.”

  “Does it?” Alexandra wasn’t expecting this.

  “My dear girl,” he said, “when a doddering, uncouth specimen such as myself addresses himself to a beautiful, accomplished young goddess such as yourself, he doesn’t necessarily expect to win the day.” After he said this, he thought that perhaps he had said too much. But to hell with it, he thought. Dissembling had never been in his nature and he wouldn’t start now.

  “I thought you’d turn me down flat,” he said, still beaming.

  Alexandra thought this admission endearing, and smiled at him tenderly. She liked it that there was no pretense, no airs with this man. He knew who and what he was, and that was all he ever set himself up to be.

  “Will you give me some time to get used to the idea, and then perhaps speak to me again?” she asked.

  “You can have till the cows come home! I will not press you. If I may spend time in your company while the cows are still out, that’s all I can ask.”

  “I should like that,” she said. “I should like it very much.”

  “And so should I,” he said, and made his exit.

  Just as he was leaving, Miss Mumford returned with the tea. Alexandra thought she’d never in her life been as happy to have a cup of it. Her thoughts were in a muddle, her feelings impossible to sort out. Her stomach was still unsettled, and she thought a cup of tea the very thing.

  Miss Mumford, though, was not the very thing. Alexandra was bursting with the news of Gerry’s proposal, but she did not want to confide in her companion.

  “Thank you so much for the tea,” she said with real gratitude. “And may I impose on you to ask one more favor?”

  “Of course you may.”

  “Could you find Lady Georgiana and send her to me? It’s the kind of thing I would ordinarily do for myself, but . . .”

  She didn’t need to finish the sentence, or even justify her desire to see the lady of whom Miss Mumford disapproved. “Of course,” she said with surprisingly good grace. “I’m sure I shall be able to find her.”

  It couldn’t have been ten minutes later when Lady Georgiana knocked at the door. Alexandra bade her friend enter.

  “I hope there is nothing amiss,” Georgiana said, concern furrowing her brow.

  “There is. That is, I don’t quite know. But there are also things that are not amiss at all. Oh! I can make neither heads nor tails of it!”

  Georgiana sat down. “It’s been only a few hours since I saw you at dinner last night. Perhaps the easiest way to explain this would be to tell me what’s happened since then.”

  “Well, I believe I’ve been deliberately served tainted milk, and I’ve had an offer of marriage.”

  Georgiana’s eyes widened. “What? Then it has been a very eventful few hours! And is it Gerry? I mean, who’s asked you to marry him, not who’s given you th
e milk.” Because Georgiana could see that her friend had clearly survived the milk, and her health was in no danger, her curiosity about the proposal overrode her concern about that piece of malice.

  “It is.”

  “And do you mean to accept him?”

  “I don’t know. It’s very sudden.”

  “It is indeed. We can talk all about it.” Her expression turned serious. “But first you have to tell me about the milk.”

  Alexandra told her the story of the milk. When she reached the part about the note, Georgiana interrupted her. “Don’t tell me. The note said, ‘Harlot.’”

  “How ever did you know?” Alexandra asked, astonished at her friend’s clairvoyance.

  “I have gotten notes along the same line. Although I don’t know who is sending them, I can at least understand why. In your case, though, it does not make any sense. Your character and conduct are beyond reproach.”

  Alexandra blushed deeply. “Perhaps not so far beyond as you think.”

  Georgiana was a little taken aback. “What is it that you have done?”

  “I wore your trousers. I let Freddy carry me. But I think the gist of it is that I have been entertaining thoughts of two men, men who may be suitors. Well, one who certainly is and one who may be, but I’m not quite sure. . . .” She trailed off as Georgiana laughed.

  “Entertaining thoughts of two men? Well, that is an offense against propriety!” But Georgiana repented her archness when she saw that her friend was genuinely distressed.

  “The mere fact that you believe that your thoughts could merit censure is evidence of the purity of your spirit. You must not allow this note to upset you.”

  “If it were just the note, I think I could manage that. But whatever was in the milk was awfully unpleasant, and the whole incident makes me feel vulnerable and rather frightened.”

 

‹ Prev