A flame flickered in the honey umber of her eyes. “Love me, Carter.”
He raised himself above her. “Always,” he promised. His erection twitched with lust. He strained not to explode as he angled his hips closer. Carter positioned her legs where he could enter her with the least discomfort for her. He placed his swollen head against Lucinda’s damp opening. It took all his well-honed patience not to thrust deeply into her. Their eyes met and held.
Inch by inch, he entered her. Sweat covered his brow as Carter exercised control he did not think possible. He pulled out and entered her again, setting up a leisurely pace, allowing her to feel the width and breadth of his manhood. Lucinda responded. Her moisture covered his length, driving him to complete distraction. He squeezed his eyes shut, silently begging for control.
He felt the thin membrane, which protected her innocence. With a hard, but fluid, thrust, Carter broke through. Lucinda was truly his. No other man would ever know her in this manner. It was exhilarating to consider. Carter lowered his head to kiss her neck, but he never paused his manipulations. “You have bewitched me, Lucinda Lowery,” he whispered against her skin. “I was nothing until there was you.”
A groan announced her desire. “I have loved you since Waterloo,” she professed breathlessly. In her euphoria, his wife had uttered the first admittance of their being on the battleground together. She would learn to trust him, and Carter gloried in the knowledge.
Carter lifted her hips to him, holding her where he could sink completely into his wife. “God, Lindy!” he growled.
His pace increased, pounding into her, demanding Lucinda’s complete surrender. A muffled cry of his name told him she desired him as much as he did her. A stilling of her hips announced another climax, her muscles tightening around him. Each thrust brought him closer; throwing his head back, Carter abandoned his self control to the ecstasy of knowing her. A shuddered brought his seed erupting inside her–inside Lucinda. His wife. Finally, Carter released her legs so she might lie flat, before he collapsed upon her. His sweat mixing with hers.
He did not know how long they lay as such, but Carter became aware of how his large form had swallowed her petite one. With effort, he rolled to his side and cradled her to him. “That was…” she said on a husky whisper.
Carter chuckled, “Exactly.”
Her fingertips traced his lips. “I spent three and twenty years waiting for heaven,” she murmured against his skin.
“And I five and twenty.” He kissed her hair and inhaled deeply of her very feminine scent.
Lucinda raised her head. A look of self-chastisement graced her lips. “I do not even know your birthday,” she confessed. “When did you celebrate another year?”
Carter kissed the tip of her nose. “The night of the prince’s party. If not for you, it might have been my last birthday. When you admitted your love, I found myself thinking it was a glorious day, after all. I lay bleeding and exhausted, but I had found a home, one no one could deny me.”
“I know nothing of being a good wife or of how to be a competent mother, but I promise always to put you first.”
“We will deal well together. If we are honest, even when we disagree, our love will grow richer.”
She snuggled closer. “Must we disagree?”
Carter lifted her chin to brush his lips across hers. “I fear we are both accustomed to speaking our minds. Ours will be a magnificent battle of wills, but I would have it no other way.”
She crawled up his body. “Is it time for our second battle?” she asked as she ran her tongue across his nipple. Carter hissed in his breath. “I believe it is my turn to win.”
Carter sighed heavily. “Do your worst, Lady Lowery. I am your prisoner of love.”
Finis
In rivers, the water that you touch is the last of what has passed and the first that which comes; so with present time.
- Leonardo da Vinci
Jane Austen-Inspired Novels from Ulysses Press:
Darcy’s Passions: Pride and Prejudice Retold Through His Eyes
Darcy’s Temptation: A Pride and Prejudice Sequel
Captain Wentworth’s Persuasion: Jane Austen’s Classic Retold Through His Eyes
Vampire Darcy’s Desire: A Pride and Prejudice Paranormal Adventure
The Phantom of Pemberley: A Pride and Prejudice Mystery
Christmas at Pemberley: A Pride and Prejudice Sequel
The Disappearance of Georgiana Darcy: A Pride and Prejudice Mystery
The Mysterious Death of Mr. Darcy: A Pride and Prejudice Mystery
“The Pemberley Ball” (a short story in The Road to Pemberley anthology) Regency Romance from Ulysses Press:
The Scandal of Lady Eleanor – Book 1 of the Realm Series
Regency and Contemporary Romance from White Soup Press:
A Touch of Velvet – Book 2 of the Realm Series
A Touch of Cashémere – Book 3 of the Realm Series
A Touch of Grace – Book 4 of the Realm Series
A Touch of Mercy – Book 5 of the Realm Series
A Touch of Love – Book 6 of the Realm Series
His: Two Regency Novellas (includes “His American Heartsong,” a Realm series novella and “His Irish Eve,” a sequel to The Phantom of Pemberley) The First Wives’ Club – Book 1 of the First Wives’ Trilogy
Second Chances: The Courtship Wars
Honor and Hope: A Contemporary Romantica Based on Pride and Prejudice
Lord Sidmouth
Henry Addington, 1st Viscount Sidmouth, was a British statesman and Prime Minister of the United Kingdom from 1801 to 1804. Elected to the House of Commons as an MP for Devizes, Addington became Speaker of the House in 1789. In March 1801, William Pitt the Younger resigned as Prime Minister, and Addington assumed the position. However, in May 1804, an alliance of Pitt, Charles James Fox, and William Wyndham Grenville, 1st Baron Grenville, took advantage of Addington’s inability to manage a Parliamentary majority and drove Addington from office.
Yet, Addington remained a political force serving as Lord President of the Council from 1804 to 1806 and in the Ministry of All the Talents as Lord Privy Seal and again as Lord President in 1807. In 1805, he was created Viscount Sidmouth.
In June 1812, Addington became Home Secretary. During his reign, Sidmouth countered revolutionary opposition and was responsible for the suspension of habeas corpus in 1817 (the setting for A Touch of Love), as well as the passage of the Six Acts in 1819. His term saw the Peterloo Massacre of 1819 (the setting for “His Irish Eve” from His: Two Regency Novellas). He left office in 1822.
Pentrich Rising
The Pentrich rising was an armed uprising in 1817, which started among the workers in the village of Pentrich, Derbyshire. It began on 9 June 1817. A gathering of 200-300 men (stockingers, quarrymen, and iron workers) led by Jeremiah Brandreth set out from South Wingfield to march to Nottingham. They were lightly armed with pikes, scythes, and a few guns, which they had hidden in a local quarry prior to the march. They carried with them a set of mixed complaints against the government.
When they reached Giltbrook, twenty soldiers of the 15th Regiment of Light Dragoons met their force. The revolutionaries scattered: Forty were taken into custody, but the leaders were not captured for several months. Eventually, three men–Jeremiah Brandreth, Isaac Ludlam, and William Turner–were hanged and beheaded at Derby Gaol for their participation in the uprising.
Jews in England During the Reign of George III
Like the Deputies appointed to protect the civil rights of Protestant Dissenters, the Spanish and Portuguese Jewry, who had taken refuge in England, periodically nominated deputados to keep the Jewish community aware of the political developments, which could affect Jewish interests. Therefore, when George III ascended to the throne, a standing committee was formed to express loyalty to the new king, while keeping a close eye on political changes.
However, the Ashkenazi sect–those of Judaeo-German extraction– lodged a formal
protest, expressing their fear of neglect. They nominated the German Secret Committee for Public Affairs to serve their particular interests. Eventually, the King’s government insisted the Deputados regularly communicate with the Committee of the Dutch Jews’ Synagogues. This joint venture formed the basis for the London Committee of Deputies of British Jews.
The Jews in England had increased twelve fold over the seventy years following the Glorious Revolution and numbered between 6000-8000, most of whom lived in London. The more anglicized (but only 25% of the total population) nation were those from Spain and Portugal (Sephardic). The Ashkenazim were less assimilated (with several notable exceptions) and belonged to the lower classes. Many Jews chose to forsake their religion and take advantage of the opportunities available to those who submitted to conversion.
The process of assimilation brought English into the public school curriculum of Sephardic Jews. Sermons appeared in English translations. Even the publication of the Jewish prayer book into English occurred in 1770. Yet, the foreign character of the community was maintained by the constant influx of new arrivals.
London attracted more of the displaced Continental Jews than did other English cities, most settling in the East End or the West beyond Temple Bar. The well to do found employment or developed institutions dealing in commerce, jewelry, brokerage or stocks. Those of the middle class became silversmiths, watchmakers, and shopkeepers. Lower still were tailors, hatters, glass engravers, pencil makers, etc. Lowest of all were those without job skills or money. These took on the roles of peddlers or traders of old clothes, often referred to as the “Rag Men.”
Eventually, this population of peddlers spread out across England, bringing “treasures” (buckles, buttons, lace, tobacco, cutlery, toys, etc.) to the isolated rural population. Jews of the organized provincial centers aligned with one of the London conventiclers, generally the Great Synagogue.
At the height of the expansion, the Ashkenazim community was hampered by the steady flow of poor Jews, who were often of a criminal element. A series of crimes, culminating in a brutal murder in Chelsea, caused the community to disassociate itself from the malefactors.
John Swenton released the knocker to the apartments in a less than stylish section of Vienna. It tore at his heart she had fallen so low. A year had passed since he had last laid eyes upon her–actually sixteen months, one week, and four days–and John’s heart quickened with the possibility. He had dreamed of her every night since he bid her farewell upon the docks at Hull.
He had come to Vienna, not to call upon her again, but to say his farewells to Baroness Fiona Caroline Swenton, his mother, but he had been too late. As she had always done, the baroness had made her exit with no regard for how it might affect him. Another woman would have fought her illness until her only child had arrived upon her doorstep, but Lady Fiona had never known maternal heartstrings.
When he had arrived too late to sit by Lady Fiona’s bedside, John had made arrangements to have his mother’s body exhumed. He meant to see her remains buried in the Swenton family cemetery behind Marwood Manor. He was certain Lady Fiona would not appreciate the gesture, but John knew his father’s ghost would approve. Jeremiah Swenton had died, figuratively, the day his wife had walked away from him and their young son. She had performed her duty of producing an heir, and the lady wished nothing more of their company. John had often imagined the late baron had simply held onto life until John was of age and could assume the barony without legal complications. It had not been an easy life for either of them, but somehow they had survived the shame and the scandal.
“Yes, Sir?” A striking red headed pixie appeared as the door swung wide. She was dressed as a lady, rather than a servant, and for a moment, John wondered if he had the wrong directions. Her skin was pale and creamy, with a sprinkle of freckles across her nose, and despite his purpose in calling upon the household, John felt an unusual twinge of awareness.
Swallowing hard against his unconscious response to the woman, he bowed stiffly. “Baron Swenton for Miss Aldridge.”
“Baron Swenton?” The girl’s smile widened. “Please come in, Sir.” She stepped back to permit him access. Closing the door behind him, she said, “I am pleased for the acquaintance, Sir. Miss Aldridge speaks kindly of you.” John liked the idea of knowing Baron Ashton’s niece occasionally thought of him, and in a positive manner. He thought of her every day and every night. “Please permit me to accept your hat and gloves, Baron.” John obediently obeyed. “I am Miss Neville.”
Realization dawned. This was the lady he had hired to keep him informed of Miss Aldridge’s needs. She was reportedly of good family, but had been left alone due to family mishaps. His man of business had made the arrangements, and upon initial impression, John had approved of the hire. As requested as part of her settlement with his man of business, the lady had dutifully sent him two letters in the previous five months outlining her employment and sharing many of the “secrets” of Miss Aldridge’s household. He did not think kindly on his actions in this matter, but as propriety kept him from corresponding with Miss Satiné directly, he had chosen the only course available to him. He wondered if Miss Neville had requested his presence in Vienna in a third or even a fourth letter to his home. He had been from Marwood for some three months–first, with the art theft investigation, and then with travel during the winter across the Continent.
“Ah, Miss Neville,” he said with a second bow of respect. “I was not expecting Miss Aldridge’s companion to act as man servant.” He relaxed, his smile without humor. “I was in the city,” John explained, “on family business, and I had hoped to have the company of Miss Aldridge. Please excuse my forwardness.”
A flare of panic crossed Miss Neville’s countenance, and John wondered if he had overstepped the lines of propriety beyond reason. Naturally, his fascination with Satiné Aldridge did not mean the lady would return his regard. “I fear, Baron, Miss Aldridge is not receiving.”
John felt the pang of disappointment. “Of…of course,” he said through tight lips. It had been foolish of him to pin his hopes on this visit. “If it is acceptable, I will leave my card. I should have thought…” He paused to collect his composure. “If you would ferry my message to your mistress, I would be most appreciative. I mean to depart for England at week’s end. Please ask Miss Aldridge if I might call upon her before then. You may reach me at Auersperg. Prince Vinzens has extended his hospitality.”
The lady appeared decidedly intrigued, but with an equally noticeable wary expression, she responded, “I am certain Miss Aldridge would enjoy having Prince Auersperg’s acquaintance, but I should have explained more adequately: Miss Satiné has taken to her bed. I do not expect her to be available for visits or for social events for several weeks to come.”
John drew in a deep breath to disguise the tension clutching at his chest. Was Miss Aldridge seriously ill? Could he lose her before he had had the opportunity to declare his intentions? “Has a physician seen to the lady’s care?” he pleaded. He struggled with the desire to know what had occurred.
Miss Neville gestured him to a nearby sitting room. She closed the door to keep their conversation private. Neither of them chose to sit. The lady wrung her hands anxiously. “I am at sixes and sevens, Baron.” Mixed with the fretful overtones in her voice, Swenton noted the twinge of an Irish accent. Many in York held Irish roots, and he was accustomed to the soft roll of the vowels and even a few of the consonants. “Although I serve Miss Aldridge, I am aware you are most assuredly my employer, and I am indebted to you for your generosity.” John had pretended to act with Baron Ashton’s approval when he had placed Miss Neville in Miss Aldridge’s household. He fully understood others would not approve of his presumptuousness, but it was the means he had for information on the woman he loved. Miss Neville presented him a rueful shake of her head. “I hold an allegiance to both you and Miss Aldridge.”
Swenton’s mouth thinned with displeasure. “I will not sack you if you keep
your mistress’s confidences, but you must know I hold Miss Aldridge with great regard. If the lady has need of my protection, I would perform my duty gladly.”
The blue sapphire of her eyes flashed. With annoyance or admiration? he wondered. She worried her bottom lip in indecision. Finally, with a sigh of resignation, she explained, “When first I came to Miss Aldridge, all appeared well, but as I confided in my last letter, over the past three months, Miss Aldridge has become more withdrawn, barely leaving her rooms. Her appetite has become nonexistent.”
John stilled. “Was there nothing to be done for the lady?” He sucked in a deep breath and mentally braced himself for Miss Neville’s next pronouncement.
Anxiety sounded in Miss Neville’s tone. “Miss Aldridge’s illness was not one medicine could cure. Only time will do so.” She pressed her fingertips to her mouth as if she wished to snatch back her words. Averting her eyes, she continued, “This is not a conversation for strangers, especially strangers not of the same gender.”
He responded in a tight voice. “Yet, I insist, Miss Neville.”
She regarded him intently, and John cursed his weakness: The one where he had always sought love where none existed. He had hoped this visit would lay the basis for Miss Aldridge’s return to England, as well as preparing the way for him to woo the woman with a proper proposal. To date, he was the only one among his associates who had yet to claim a bit of happiness.
Miss Neville momentarily glanced away before meeting his gaze with her firm one. “Miss Aldridge’s lack of appetite was self-imposed,” she explained. “My mistress worried for her figure.”
A barbed smile formed on his lips. “I cannot imagine Miss Aldridge’s stature would tolerate anything less than perfection,” he declared with confidence.
“And I am certain Miss Aldridge sought perfection when none was to be had,” she countered.
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