Boscobel gave a crack of laughter. “Perhaps we’re not so different after all. You want her for yourself, and you don’t want anyone else to have her.” That piece of callousness snared him as nothing else, because it spoke to the true man inside, the man who wanted to hug what he owned close and keep it for himself. “Very well. And it would mean that word of your unfortunate condition would never reach the polite world. If you have truly chosen her, I wish her treated with the utmost respect. Lady Bradley must learn how to be a duchess. We must see about getting a proper maid for her, maybe a secretary.”
“Indeed, Father, I’ll contact the register office.”
“I suggest you leave the matter to her. It will enable me to see how she handles domestics.”
Gerard hated the idea of testing Faith, but he kept his temper tamped down, knowing if he had his father on his side, matters would be infinitely easier for Faith and for her brother, especially after his death. “I have no doubt her domestic skills are up to the task.”
“We should take her to Hill House and let her assess her new duties.”
Gerard grinned. “Hoping to frighten her off, sir? I doubt she will run.”
His father gave a tight smile in response to his son and leaned back in his chair. “I’ve noticed that. What she will bring us is Fordhouse. The dowry is neither here nor there; I will pursue it because it will be expected of me.”
“So you want to use him.”
The duke shrugged. “What else are people for?”
“Even me? Even Deborah?”
The duke considered his son thoughtfully. “Do you want me to answer that?”
Gerard knew the answer. He shook his head. His father nodded. “You have to learn that emotions are disposable, my son. Your position in life does not give you any choice. It will be up to you to guide the monarch in his decisions, to you to ensure he makes the right decision.”
“I thought Bute had adopted that position.” His father despised Bute, who’d reputedly gained his high political place through his intimate relations with the Princess of Wales. He was a Tory, a county man, and Boscobel was Whig and country all the way.
“Bute is a nuisance. It’s Mortimer all over again, the mother’s lover becoming the power behind the throne. Presumably the conclusion won’t be as messy, but he will not last. He is making too many enemies.”
Gerard needed all his wits to confront his wily father. He forced his headache and lethargy down, even though he felt sick every time he did so. His father concluded the discussion when the butler informed him that his man of business had arrived. Gerard excused himself, trusting his father to make the initial decisions, although he would have the final word. Just as he had his hand on the doorknob, his father said, as though casually, “You will make perfectly sure this is what you want. If you have any doubts, something can be arranged. We can still make sure of Fordhouse without sacrificing you.”
“Like a pawn, Father?” Gerard said, his mouth quirked at one side. Without waiting for a reply, he left his father to enjoy putting the fear of God into his agent, a man who had never learned the trick of looking the duke straight in the eye and seeming to agree with him.
When Gerard found Faith, she was with George. For the last half hour she had been explaining his change of circumstance to her brother, and it seemed her patience had borne fruit. When told his father had visited, George clutched his sister’s arm and tried to burrow his head underneath it. She had to take him and forcibly put him away from her, not an easy feat with her brother determined to have his way. It took some time to calm him, and then more time to explain to him that he was in a way to being safe forever from their father’s influence. His incredulity wasn’t hard to understand. Faith had difficulty believing it herself.
When George heard Faith had accepted an offer of marriage from Lord Ellesmere, his tears of distress turned to relief. They were just as noisy and just as difficult to control. Faith gave after a while. She held her brother close and waited for his tempest to subside.
It wasn’t Ellesmere’s fault the only place she could relax was in his arms, or that she found him so desirable. His smile promised more, his eyes more still. It was for that reason she couldn’t allow the betrothal to stand. She wanted him, had thoughts about him she couldn’t suppress. Last night she’d woken from a dream that made her blush to the tips of her toes when she thought about it. It was something she’d thought gone for good, unintentionally killed by her first husband.
Faith couldn’t understand why she wanted Gerard so much, why, when he entered George’s room to find her washing her brother’s face after his storm of tears her heart actually quickened to see him. He was untouchable, unreachable, she would never have him. So why did she yearn for him so much?
He stared at her in the same way, with hunger in his eyes. “May I speak to you when you have a moment, ma’am?”
The formality made her ache. Once sure George was all right, she rang for James, and when he’d arrived, left with Ellesmere.
He took her to the small parlour on the ground floor meant for family use. Deborah had an appointment that morning, so her usual place was empty, her workbasket lying by the fire. Faith thought it too close. She moved it, taking longer than she needed.
Ellesmere touched her arm and led her to a sofa standing against the wall opposite the window. Outside the rails at the end of the small courtyard people were going about their business, traders and fashionables jostling each other for space. Occasionally a sedan chair would go by, its motion dictated by its bearers. The best bearers could keep the passenger’s ride smooth, but many of the chairmen who hawked their services in the street seemed to pride themselves on a bouncier ride. Faith noticed every little detail, her agitation increasing with every raucous shout from the square outside. She wouldn’t face Ellesmere until he reached for her hand. Startled, she stared at him.
“My father grudgingly approved the match,” he told her.
“Did you offer him any incentives?”
“Only two. He knows if we have you, we have Fordhouse, another pawn for him to play with. However, unlike your father, mine will ensure your brother is well cared for and happy. He does not believe unnecessary suffering is a help to him, or his work, and he can well afford to have George cared for properly. He will be happier here, and at home in the country.”
“I don’t doubt it. What else did you offer him?”
“Heirs.” It was Ellesmere who looked away now, but he kept hold of her hand. He looked, eyes glowing. “It’s what he wants above everything else. We know it’s impossible, but he does not.” He watched her face. Faith couldn’t take her eyes away from him, and the intense look he gave her. “I want you to open to me, Faith. Open your mind, let me see the truth.”
She gave a small nod and opened the door she had built over the past few days. Deliberately she opened the way to everything and let him see it all.
His pupils shrank so his eyes were brilliant discs of silver, staring into hers. He swallowed. “I appreciate your honesty. The least I can do is allow you to see mine.”
Desire. Blazing desire swept through her, making her feel her body acutely, its confinement inside the stays and fashionable green morning gown an unbearable constriction. “Dear God.”
“I’m sorry, but it’s the truth. I want you, Faith. I hope to contain the feeling. It’s what you were afraid of, isn’t it?” She swallowed and nodded. “There are ways.” His voice was husky. Her hand burned in his now she knew what he wanted, how he felt. “There are ways of satisfying each other without penetration, you know.”
Faith flushed deeply, but she wanted honesty. “Without release? Without satisfaction for you?” Despair haunted her voice, although she did her best to control it. How could he bear it?
“My dear, what I want to do with you will result in satisfaction for us both. If you think you can live without the ultimate act of intimacy, this might be possible. I doubt I’d have the strength, in any case.” He pa
used, smoothing her palm with his thumb. “Faith, do you want children?”
She controlled herself, tried to ignore the mental sparks flying between them, tried to forget her awareness of his large, strong body, so close to hers and answer his question truthfully. “I had given up the idea of children before I met you. I have said the problem lay with my late husband, but there’s no guarantee the problem was not with his late wife and myself. Then, when I was widowed, I thought I wouldn’t marry again. You saw the kind of man my father wanted for me—someone he could control, someone old enough to make me a rich widow in a few years’ time.”
His mouth firmed, and she felt a ripple of disgust in the waves emanating from him. She continued, “Yes, it is not pleasant. So I had set my mind against remarriage. Once, I thought of children, but now—” She shrugged, feeling the low cut silk gown slip over her lawn fichu. “Children aren’t essential to my happiness. I could wish for them, but I have faced the possibility of childlessness and find it isn’t so bad after all.”
His grip on her hand increased, and he pulled her closer. “If you’re sure,” he murmured. He released her hand and put his arm around her shoulders. He was going to kiss her, and lifted her face to him. “I’m glad I wasn’t the cause of your facing it, but I’m also selfish enough to be glad you can bear the thought of living without children. So I ask you again, Faith Bradley. Will you marry me?”
Before she could answer, he kissed her, allowing the warmth of his desire to bathe her and take her with him, letting her feel it all. She was helpless in his arms, allowed herself to be so, feeling his need to command. When he touched her lips with his tongue, she opened for him, felt him take possession of her. Under his control now. Faith felt his entrance, welcomed him in and allowed him to see her regret that this was the only way he could enter her body.
Gently she disengaged and sat back staring at him. He gave her a questioning look. “Shall we try?”
“Try a marriage?”
Gently he smiled. “Not quite yet. Shall we see what we can do together? If it will work? I will not cause you distress if it is too much.”
Faith swallowed. This took more effort than she had supposed, especially with his eyes on her, and her mind open to him. She told him without speech. Would you like to come to my bed tonight?
He blinked, once. Then he pulled her back to him, no gentleness left in him, and kissed her deeply. Yes, yes, yes! She heard in the depths of her mind, the furthest reaches of her soul. He would care for her, she could trust him not to do anything that worried her. She’d never trusted a man as she’d trusted him.
He drew back, kissed her cheeks, drifted his lips to her ear. Thank you.
He knew. He reciprocated, allowing her to see his naked need, his despair that he couldn’t love her properly, and the assuaging of it that her kiss brought him.
Tonight, she thought. Tonight.
Chapter Ten
Faith grew edgier the longer the day went on. Even Deborah noticed, sending Faith for a rest before dinner, to “brighten her up a bit,” or so she said. It didn’t help. Ellesmere absented himself, spending most of the day at his club dozing in a corner. He kept his mind closed, so Faith had no idea how he felt or if he had changed his mind. If he had, she’d cope, she told herself firmly, but she didn’t know how.
They took George to the opera again, because people could see him and not too many could approach him. And because he liked it. He loved to watch the opera, something few people did, laughed in delight at the farces and wept at the tragedies while social life went along in the boxes and the pit, society exquisites vying for attention with the actors onstage.
Faith was delighted to find George had his own friends. An older lady, one who confided to Faith that her son had been “of the same mind” before he died, a young man who was kind to George, and his sister, who giggled more than Faith could like. The duke and his family did an effective job at keeping away the sneerers, anyone who might upset George. Many might have used him for a figure of fun, people like her brother were always vulnerable to that, but Faith was surprised to find how many people were genuinely kind to him.
If he were called in front of a panel of his peers, as their father had once threatened, he had witnesses now, people who would support him. And Faith had learned something else. Staring at the glittering stage full of performers working toward their finale, she remembered the words of Lady Greville, at Lady Brangton’s ball. “Lord Pendford is not a tactful man, my dear. He has instigated legal cases against people who have more than his concerns to worry about, and your marriage was not received by everyone as your mistake. He no longer appears in London because he knows he is not welcome.”
“Did he upset anyone in particular?” Faith had asked.
“Pitt,” Lady Brangton had told her with a grin. “Your father snubbed him in public.”
Faith had known her father for a belligerent man, but not a stupid one. Pitt, the grandson of a City merchant, had become one of the most powerful men in the kingdom. However, Pitt too could be irascible, and set himself at odds with several of the men he was supposed to call his allies. Faith could envisage a spat between the two men only too well.
When the crowd erupted in laughter and applause, Faith assumed the play was over and got to her feet, only to receive an anxious stare from her brother. Deborah put her hand on her arm as she sat down again. “You’ve been weary all day. Are you not well?”
Faith put her hand to her stomach. “I’m fine now.” In truth her stomach was fluttering, though not from food poisoning. Now the hour was nearly on her, she didn’t know if she could do this.
“You go home,” Deborah whispered. Behind them, actors appeared on the stage to perform the afterpiece. “I’ll take care of George for you.”
Stretton, sitting next to Faith, cast her a look of concern as she got to her feet and ushered her to the back of the box, where the footman helped her into her cloak. “You are feeling unwell?”
“A little. Only a slight stomach upset.”
“Would you like me to accompany you?”
“No, sir, it is quite unnecessary. The carriage will be waiting.” Faith smiled and left before Stretton could insist.
Back at Boscobel House Faith entered her bedroom and allowed a maid to undress her and get her ready for bed. When the girl had gone, she undid the tight night braids and brushed her hair loose until it flowed in a silken sheet over her shoulders. Attention to her hair was quite a task, as it fell almost to her waist, and Faith enjoyed the sensation of the brush slipping through the waves. When the door softly clicked, she didn’t immediately understand its import, but when she heard the footfalls behind her, too heavy to be her maid, she spun around in her chair.
Ellesmere held up his hands, palm first, in a gesture of surrender. “Should I have knocked?”
“Of course not. We don’t want to raise the whole household. I didn’t expect you so soon, that’s all. I thought you would still be at your club.”
“I couldn’t wait. I did what I had to do, spread the news, and came home.” He walked forward and took the brush from her hand, then placed it on the dressing table behind her. When he leaned forward, the edges of his banyan opened, showing her a smooth chest, muscled and gleaming in the candlelight. Faith wanted to touch it, to see if it felt as heavenly as it looked, but shyness took her. She didn’t know how, didn’t know if he’d like it.
He looked down at her, eyes glinting. “We don’t have to do this. My offer still stands, Faith, whatever comes of tonight.”
Tension, anticipation thrummed between them. “I-I think we should try, for both our sakes. Oh, sir…”
“Gerard.”
“G-Gerard.” Her voice skittered on the first sound, making it softer than it was meant to be.
“Faith.” He held out his hands. She placed her own in them, and he drew her to her feet. He stood quite still, gazing at her, his eyes devouring her form. “You’ll make an exemplary countess. You’ll mak
e a good wife too.”
“We haven’t known each other very long.” She felt compelled to point it out, although from the moment she met his stare in Bedlam she had felt familiarity, as though she’d known him all her life.
“You’ve trusted me. You’ve let me into your mind, and I’ve let you see mine. I know you better than people I’ve known for years.” His thumbs moved across her palms in a familiar gesture. The contact sent shivers up her arm, all the way to her heart. “I want to ask something.”
“Anything.”
His mouth quirked in a half smile. “We’ll see about that. I think we should keep our minds closed to each other tonight, unless one of us asks for the privilege.”
“Yes.” Perhaps he didn’t want her to see his pain, his struggle not to make love to her. She would have difficulty hiding her need, but she owed it to him to do that. “Yes, it’s for the best.” To keep their distance, to keep their innermost thoughts hidden.
He gazed at her and she gazed back, happy to enjoy his expression of need and warmth, glad it was for her. But someone had to break this deadlock, and it became clear that he was leaving it up to her.
Her hands shaking, she released her his and touched the first in the line of ribbons fastening her gown at the front. With one tug, she pulled it free. Desire bloomed in his eyes, and a hunger she couldn’t have imagined before.
His hand covered hers, warm and strong. “May I?”
She let her hand fall away, leaving his touching the first ribbons. He grazed the second one, pink satin slipping through his fingers until the end of the bow nearly left his hand, then he pinched it and tugged. It fell open, revealing the cleft between her breasts. He passed on to the next one, trailing lightly over the silk fabric of her gown. Not so hesitant this time, he tugged the next fastening open, and together they watched. The centre of her chest was almost fully exposed, her breasts swelling on either side. He lifted his gaze to her face, smiled, then let his gaze fall to where he was still busy, pulling the bows free with increasing speed.
Lightning Unbound: Even Gods Fall in Love, Book 1 Page 11