‘It is almost time for tea. We are having your favourite.’
Their conversation was mundane, but to Ben it was like music. He had accused her of jealousy and his father proclaimed her a bad influence. But the love Amy felt for her sister wove through the words.
His fiancée turned to her sister, her smile blindingly brilliant as if she heard it as well. ‘Jam tarts.’
‘Yes, dear.’
‘May we have them for supper as well?’
‘No, dear. At supper, we need something more sub...stantial.’
He could tell the exact moment she noticed they were not alone by the hitch in her words. She glanced in his direction and favoured him with a smile that was polite, but cool. ‘Mr Lovell, will you be joining us?’
Had her father lectured her on her behaviour towards a future brother-in-law? The animosity that had seemed to sizzle between them was gone. And surprisingly, he missed it. What if the passion was gone as well? Suppose there was nothing left but this benign courtesy? ‘I can stay but a few moments,’ he responded, just as polite. ‘But if it would be possible to speak with your father...’
‘Unfortunately, he is away from the house. But I can answer any questions you might have. If you care to wait in the salon, I will be there directly.’
He nodded his thanks and made his way to the room he’d waited in on the previous day, before making his devil’s bargain with Summoner.
She came to him a few moments later, closing and locking the door behind her. Then, without asking, she went to a cabinet in the far wall and removed a brandy decanter and two glasses. She poured both and handed one glass to him, before taking a sip from her own. ‘It is unladylike to admit it, but there are times when a delicate restorative is not enough.’
This was definitely such a time. He drank deeply before speaking. ‘You were right.’
She laughed bitterly and took another sip. ‘It is a day too late to tell me so.’
‘And I swore to your father, on the Bible, no less, that I would not withdraw my offer.’
‘There is a reason my father is respected as a master politician,’ she said with a grim smile. ‘It would take a smarter man than you to outwit him.’
He knew he should be insulted by her assessment. But since it had been proven true there was no point in arguing. ‘What am I to do now?’ he said, more to himself than to her.
‘I suggest you do exactly as you planned to do from the first. Marry my sister and take the seat in the Commons that is offered you. Perhaps she is not as you assumed she’d be, but she is not beyond hope. She is quite good with some things and hopeless at others, of course. But her temperament is pleasant and she is very, very pretty.’
And she had a sister who knew her strengths and weaknesses better than anyone on the planet. She had learned to display her to best advantage and guard her against peril. It was the reason Belle’s entry into society had been such a success. ‘You have been keeping her secret, for all this time?’
‘For as long as I can remember,’ Amy replied. ‘In the classroom, I did her work as well as my own so our tutors did not punish her. And it is not really so necessary that a woman be as learned as a man.’ She glanced in the direction of her father’s office as if she’d got those words from him. ‘Men expect very little of us, save that we be lovely.’
‘And Arabella is that,’ he agreed.
‘As are you,’ she said, giving him a look that said she had no patience left for handsome but foolish men. ‘Marry my sister, retire to the country and raise a mob of perfectly beautiful offspring between you.’
‘But, I cannot...’ He should have known that a simple life with a quiet woman was an illusion. Nothing with women was ever as it appeared. And in this case, it was not just difficult, it was impossible. Arabella had proven today that it was not a simple matter of obedience that led her to this marriage. She had hesitated when he’d proposed, because she had been searching for the words to refuse him. When she had not found them, she’d been as trapped as he was.
Now they would be wed and she would feel nothing for him other than what she had been told to feel. And when he looked at her, he would feel nothing but obligation.
‘There will be nothing wrong with those children, if that is your concern,’ Amy said, interrupting his introspection. ‘What happened to Belle occurred at the moment of her birth. When she was finally delivered she was blue from lack of air.’ Amy tapped her forehead. ‘It was not good for her mind. But the rest of her is as perfect as she appears.’
‘It is not the children I am concerned with,’ he said, horrified. ‘Does she even know what is expected of her?’ He had never lain with a virgin. He had been told that their first time was painful. No passionate reward could induce him to hurt her. He would never forgive himself.
‘Do not worry on that account. I will take it upon myself to explain to her. She will be prepared to do her duty.’ Now Amy looked as burdened with obligation as he was.
‘And how much do you know of such things?’ he said, not sure he wanted the answer.
‘There are books on the subject,’ she said primly.
‘Does your father know you’ve read them?’ He could not decide whether to be shocked or impressed. But for propriety’s sake, he was sure he should not be feeling as aroused as he was at the idea of her puzzling over pictures of copulation.
‘For the smartest man in London, my father can be woefully obtuse when he chooses to be,’ she replied. ‘He has no idea what his daughters have got up to, nor does he fully recognise Belle’s incapacity. But in the matter of her future, someone had to provide her with the details of her womanly duties.’
‘And you took that upon yourself,’ he said.
‘Among other things.’ She shrugged. ‘Father means to see her married, whether I think it is a good idea or not.’ She paused. ‘The plan is not impossible. She could make the right man very happy, and he could make her happy in turn. But the final decision did not rest with me. So, I have been planning accordingly. I did not want to risk her being totally ignorant of the process and terrified by an equally ignorant man who did not care for anything but his own needs.’ She gave him a long, searching look, as if trying to decide if he fit that description.
‘I can assure you, I am quite capable of putting a woman’s pleasure before my own.’ He’d had years of experience doing just that, his own needs and desires subsumed by a demanding woman. He’d thought that when he married, he might finally be lord and master. Instead he would be more caregiver than husband.
And worse yet, he was discussing the intimacies of marriage with the woman who he should be treating as a sister. No matter how sophisticated she might pretend to be, her understanding of love making was based on purloined books and a few vague fumblings in Vauxhall. Her cheeks had gone so crimson at his last response that the blush must have extended all the way to her toes.
Which meant that it had spread to all the interesting places in between. He cleared his throat. ‘Enough about Belle. What plans did you make for yourself?’ But his thoughts of the immediate future had him imagining her skirts around her head as he gave her a practical demonstration of the subject she meant to teach. He shook his head, trying to dislodge the image, and set down the glass, cursing the brandy in his hand for clouding his judgement. ‘I mean, what do you mean to do once your sister is settled?’
She cast her eyes down, her face still pink from their previous conversation. ‘I decided that it would be best if only one of us married.’ She paused. ‘It would not be so unusual if Belle took in her spinster sister when she found a husband. Then I would be there to help her with the running of her household.’ There was an entreaty hidden in the words, though she tried her best to make them hypothetically innocent.
‘No.’
Her eyes flew up to meet his, surprised at the
vehemence of his response. ‘She is not as feeble minded as you might think, after conversing with her. But neither can she manage alone.’
‘I did not claim that she could,’ he agreed. ‘But that does not mean I want you in my house.’ Although he was still not sure that he hadn’t agreed to it when talking to Belle in the carriage.
The colour was draining from her face now from the shock of what she must assume was an insult. ‘We have had our differences,’ she admitted. ‘But please, let them end immediately. You are to marry Belle and I will not stand in the way of it. All I want is that she has a kind and gentle husband who will take the time to understand her. You can be that man. I can help with everything else.’
‘No.’ She was near to trembling with mortification. He wanted to go to her, offer comfort and assure her that it was nothing she had done to make him reject her. But he did not dare, for the same reason he could not have her in his house. ‘You are the last person in the world who can help with my marriage to your sister.’
‘But why?’ She reached out a hand in petition.
He stared at it for a moment, fascinated by the graceful curve of fingers and the way it cut through the space between them. His skin prickled in awareness, as if she was actually touching him. Every nerve came alive to fight against reason for possession of his soul.
Then he looked up, into her eyes. The lashes were spiked with unshed tears. The dark centres were huge, the gold in the left one balanced like treasure at the edge of a bottomless pit. If he claimed it, he would fall. And nothing would ever be the same.
‘This,’ he said at last and gave in as the pounding tide in his blood battered the last of his resistance to rubble. As he seized her, the empty brandy glass fell from her hand, shattering on a mahogany side table. Then he was kissing her. She tasted sweet and heady like the liquor she’d been drinking. He wanted to drink her in and get drunk on her, as if he was not already intoxicated just by sharing a room with her.
Apparently, she felt the same for she made no effort to fight against him as he loosened the string at the neckline of her gown and let the bodice gape so he could touch her bare breasts. ‘Did your books tell you of this?’ he asked, tugging her chemise out of the way and taking a tight pink nipple into his mouth, sucking hard.
The answering groan told him what he already knew. Reality was better than any book. Her back arched and he looked up to see the delicate curve of her throat begging to be kissed. He obliged, stroking her breasts with his hands. Then he used them to push her backwards and down on to the divan behind them.
He stopped for a moment to admire the perfection of her, effortlessly wanton and waiting. Brown hair was wild about her face and her head was cradled on one arm. The muscles of it tugged at one breast so it rode higher than the other, nipple pointed toward the heavens.
If she was painted, just like this, it would result in the sort of masterwork that drove artists mad and made collectors kill to possess it. But he alone would have the flesh behind the canvas. There was no way he could live innocently as a brother to a woman like this.
Perhaps she would learn her lesson, after today. But he feared he never would. It sometimes seemed, the more unattainable a woman was, the sweeter she tasted. To test the theory he went to her, resting one knee on the cushion between her legs, and pushed her skirts to her waist.
‘What are you doing?’ She tried and failed to make the words sound like a scold, but there was too much eager curiosity in them to warn him away.
‘If you don’t know, then you’ve been reading the wrong books.’ He ran his hands up the naked thighs above her stockings, then wrapped his arms about them and lifted her to his mouth for the most intimate kiss.
Her body gave one brief jerk of shock before she relaxed and opened herself to his mouth, letting him take her, sweet and salty, musky and wonderful. He eased his fingers into her and took her in easy thrusts as his tongue pushed her to heaven and beyond. And now she was shaking in the throes of orgasm.
Was it her first? he wondered. The first given to her in this way, he was sure. In a few moments, he would be her first in the only way that really mattered. First, last and only. His erection gave an eager twitch at the thought of entering the tight channel that his fingers had found.
Her spasms of pleasure were subsiding. Her eyes were closed tight. Straight white teeth bit her full lower lip. Strands of that glossy brown hair clung to her face. Her gown pooled at her waist, where he’d pushed it, her perfect breasts still tight with desire.
He eased her legs down from where they had been resting on his shoulders, covering her mound with his palm. She opened her eyes again, watching, silent. And once again he balanced on the brink of disaster, unable to pull himself away. ‘I do not want you in my house,’ he whispered. ‘I want you in my bed. I want you in my life. I want you to fill every moment of my future.’
She sighed. The hand that had reached for him before touched his face and he felt it tremble as her knuckles grazed his cheek.
He reached to undo the flap of his trousers.
And then, without warning, the hand that had just caressed him pulled back and struck his cheek, hard, as if to knock sense back into him.
He reeled back, suddenly aware of what he’d been about to do. Then he scanned the room, staring at the windows that faced a busy London street. The curtains were partly drawn, the divan obscured by a corner of the fireplace. Thank God she had locked the door when she had entered. But what if a servant had overheard what was happening? He thought they had been quiet, but it had been minutes since he’d been able to hear anything over the pounding of his own heart and the music of her ragged breathing.
Apparently, she’d come to her senses as well for she’d pulled away from him to sit up, pushing her skirts down and her bodice up and trying to return to decency. ‘You’ve made your point,’ she said, focusing on the arrangement of her clothing, unwilling to meet his eyes. ‘I agree. It will be unwise of me to stay in your house, once you have married my sister.’
‘If I marry her,’ he corrected. Surely after what had just happened, she did not think he would carry through on the farce that they were playing.
‘Once you marry her,’ Amy said, still not looking up. ‘What just happened between us does not change a thing.’
‘And why shouldn’t it?’ At the very least, it had turned his future from difficult to impossible. He could not marry Arabella. Though he had vowed to himself that he would never love anyone again, what he felt for Amy Summoner was not something that could be ignored.
‘You made the bargain with my father,’ she said, finally looking up and shaking her head in what looked like pity. ‘One does not simply walk away from Lord Geoffrey Summoner, after a deal has been struck. You will understand soon enough, I am sure. But for now, you must excuse me, Mr Lovell. I need to attend to my sister’s tea. Please, take a moment to compose yourself before you leave.’
Chapter Fourteen
Two years earlier, when Amy had decided that she would never marry, one of the reasons had been to avoid situations just like the one she was in. It had been clear that a future with any of her suitors was likely to end in disappointment.
They all began with the same fine words: compliments, protestations of devotion and promises of future happiness. If she encouraged them, they followed with smouldering gazes, lingering kisses and furtive touches in dark corners. But no matter how ardent they were, their heads turned should another young lady walk past. Only a fool would expect fidelity from them, since many kept mistresses, even as they looked for wives.
If pressed on the subject, they would deny it, of course. They would claim to live and die on her every breath. But when questioned in detail there was no indication that their affection was anything more than physical attraction. They did not seem to know her, nor did they show an inclination to learn. The im
pression they gave was that courtship was a man’s game. But once a marriage had taken place, it was the wife’s job to learn the husband’s likes and dislikes and cater to them accordingly.
If she was to be forced to live her life for another, she’d decided it would be better to live for Belle than for someone who was likely to forget all about her once the thrill of the chase had faded. There was no subterfuge in her sister. Belle loved without condition and without end. If she ever caused pain, she had the sense to regret it and apologise. She was worthy of Amy’s devotion.
Ben Lovell was not. He did not even bother to pretend that his ultimate interest lay with the woman he courted. He had kissed Amy one night and offered for Belle a few hours later. Then he had gone back to seducing Amy immediately after he’d got his acceptance.
Even worse, she had wanted him to do it. The steady heart that she had devoted to caring for her beloved sister was beating quicker at thoughts of the worst man possible. Even knowing that he was engaged to the one person in the world she had vowed to protect, she had allowed him to raise her skirts and prove to her how little she knew about what really went on between men and women. Worst of all, she regretted that she’d sent him away before they had finished what they’d begun.
‘Amy!’
She looked up to see her sister holding out her needlework for inspection with the same hopeful smile she wore every day. Perhaps this time her work would be satisfactory. ‘Did I do it right?’
‘Let us see.’ Amy kept her focus on the fabric, unable to look her sister in the eye. ‘This bit is all right, but the last will have to be undone.’
‘Better, then,’ Belle said and put her sewing aside to scratch Mellie’s ears.
‘Better,’ Amy lied and began to rip out the stitches. It was not as if Belle would notice the change, any more than she would notice that Amy was too ashamed to meet her gaze.
I want to lie with your fiancé.
There was no way to make her feelings honourable. Neither was there a way to make Belle understand how horrible it was. Even thinking about what had happened in this very room made her want to melt back into the cushions and touch herself. How was she to explain the details of married life to Belle without thinking of her sister’s future husband and imagining herself as the recipient of the skills he had demonstrated on her just a few hours ago?
The Wedding Game Page 12