by Megan Mulry
Vanessa took another sip of her coffee and pretended to read the paper.
“What is it, Mother?” he asked as soon as he knew the others were out of hearing distance.
“Hmm?” She kept her eyes downcast and acted like she didn’t know what he meant.
“Catching up on the latest changes to the French Penal Code?”
She looked up, then looked back at the words in front of her, then smiled and refolded the newspaper. “I’m proud of you, Archie. That’s all. You have married for all the right reasons. I’m not sure how to go about saying it without sounding—oh, I don’t know, patronizing or something.”
He knew his mother was an emotional being, and it didn’t surprise him that she would be more proud—if that was even the word for it—of his having found the one perfect person to love, than if he had developed a stable vaccination for smallpox for all mankind. “I’m glad you are happy, Mother. I am ecstatic.”
She stood up and walked to his side of the round table. “I can see that.” She kissed his temple. “Selina has opened your heart.”
Leaving the breakfast room together, they parted ways at the end of the hall. He entered his study and Vanessa went to join the ladies in Nora’s studio, where she would work at her large desk. He could hear the powerful chords of a Mozart sonata trailing into his workspace, as though Beatrix’s notes were somehow weaving them all together.
They spent the rest of the week at Camburton Castle and then he, Selina, and Bea took the coach and four down to London. The inside of a closed carriage brought back all sorts of salacious memories, but Selina behaved herself during the day, only occasionally holding Bea’s hand while she rested her cheek on his shoulder. She was now sated in a profound way, he thought with masculine pride.
The house in Mayfair had been prepared for their arrival. The front portico was festooned with greenery and all the lights inside the mansion were ablaze. The last day of the journey had been rather treacherous—contending with heavy snow and rough road conditions on the outskirts of the city—so all three of them were grateful to finally settle in.
A pile of invitations awaited them and, rather than pitch them in the bin, Archie decided to set them aside until the next day. For the first time in his life, he actually wanted to attend balls and routs, wanted to stand in a stuffy crowded ballroom with his wife at his side, wanted to get a box for concerts and plays, where Beatrix and Selina would sit nearby in rapt attention.
The servants bustled past them with all the parcels and luggage, as Selina, Archie, and Beatrix removed their cloaks and stomped off the snow that had clung to their shoes in the brief walk from the curb to the front hall. Archie told the butler to take the stack of invitations and set it on his desk for him to review tomorrow.
“Oh, Archie, may we go through them now?” Selina asked. “Perhaps we might sit in front of the fire, just the three of us, and plan all of our adventures?”
He looked at Selina then, so bright with hope and love, and realized he would give her anything—large or small—that she ever wished for. “Of course, my love.” He turned back to the butler and asked him to set the pile in the blue drawing room and to send in a tray of meats and fruit, as well as a large pot of hot tea.
Selina rested her cheek on Archie’s strong thigh and gazed into the fire. She had been sitting on the pale green silk sofa next to him, and had begun to feel the weariness from the journey stealing over her, when she decided to lean down. Bea was reading a letter from Mr. Dance and smiling gently as she scanned his words.
Breathing contentedly, Selina looked up to see Archie staring at her. “What is it?”
“Was the journey too much for you?”
“No, I’m just sleepy. It’s late.”
He turned his attention back to the invitation he was holding, one of the last in the original stack. “Devonshire is having another one of his masquerades. What do you think?”
The three of them had gone through dozens of invitations and decided on the concerts and balls they wanted to attend. Without looking away from the card he was holding, Archie toyed with a strand of her unruly hair, tucking it behind her ear, then grazing the edge of her jaw. She shivered, and he hummed his approval.
Bea glanced up from her letter and caught her eye. As Beatrix watched, Archie traced the turn of Selina’s shoulder and then let his hand rest on the fabric of her dress over the swell of her hip. Looking at Bea while Archie touched her, even in that absentminded way of his, turned her insides to pudding. She wanted to kiss Bea while Archie held her in his lap; she wanted to kiss Archie while Bea massaged her tender breasts.
Her body was changing; she could feel it already in the swell of her bosom, the tingling sensitivity of her nipples. She suspected she had become pregnant the first night they had been together, so all the French letters had been for naught.
She gasped when Bea smiled and slowly licked her lips, trailing her clever tongue back and forth across the edge of her lower lip, just as she had trailed her tongue along the edge of Selina’s pussy that morning in the room at the inn while Archie had been collecting the horses.
Selina was a woman in love—with Archie and Beatrix of course, but it was more than that. She felt as though she were actually living in a world of love, a deep, embracing pool of affection and comfort and desire. She shifted her upper arms to press her breasts closer together and watched Bea’s eyes darken with desire. Archie kneaded her flesh absently as he spoke. “I think a masked ball would be quite entertaining, don’t you, darling?”
She bit her lip as the combination of Archie’s big hand and Bea’s fiery gaze stoked her pleasure. “I do,” she croaked.
“Then that settles it.” He patted her hip and tossed the final invitation on the side table, then lifted her off his lap so they were both standing. He took a deep breath, stretching his arms toward the ceiling. “Off to bed we go. Come, come.” He reached out his hand, and she took it.
“Where are we all sleeping?” She hoped one day soon Archie would take the bait and choose for all of them to sleep together.
“I thought Beatrix would enjoy the large guestroom closest to our suite. I imagine you two will want to get up to whatever it is you get up to when I’m at the Royal Society tomorrow and Thursday.”
She reached for Bea’s hand and laced their fingers together as they walked up the wide stairs. “That sounds perfect, darling.”
“But tonight we all need a good night of rest after that taxing journey, don’t you agree?” He led them down the hall and opened the door to a beautiful room that had been decorated in soothing yellows and creams. A few hothouse flowers had been placed around the room as well, and there was a small fortepiano in the corner.
“This is heavenly!” Bea exclaimed when she entered.
“Vanessa thought to have the piano moved into this room. I hope it’s not too crowded or bothersome.” Archie looked concerned for Beatrix, and Selina had never loved him more.
“As long as you don’t mind hearing me play at all hours of the day and night, I won’t find it bothersome in the slightest.” Bea trailed her slender fingers along the brightly polished wood, and Selina shivered in Archie’s arms.
“Come to bed, Selina. I don’t want you to catch cold.”
Bea turned and smiled at both of them. “He’s right, love. You need your rest. Come visit me in the morning after Archie leaves for his lecture, and I will play the new sonata for you.”
“You are both far too concerned for my welfare,” she huffed, but she blew Bea a kiss and left obediently with Archie.
His suite of rooms was nothing short of spectacular, with a riot of golden angels above the bed, the frescoed ceiling depicting men and women, angels and putti, all frolicking in the clouds overhead.
“You are a sybarite at heart,” she crowed. “I knew it!”
“It was my grandfather’s doing.” He looked at the ceiling as he turned her around and began to undo her dress. “I’ve always thought it was rathe
r a bit too much.”
“Well, I adore it—I especially adore how everyone is touching everyone, without a care for propriety. And how happy everyone looks.” She was stretching her neck to take in the full array of characters and activities when he let her dress drop to the floor, and she was standing with her back to him, in nothing but the sheerest shift. He had spoiled her the previous week with a trunk full of undergarments sent up from London, and he’d told her he wanted her fitted for many more lacy things while they were in town.
He leaned down and kissed her neck. “You are going to be the belle of every ballroom in London, my dear. The Marchioness of Camburton has arrived.” As he untied the shift, his nimble fingers touched the sensitive skin along her spine, and she moaned at the pleasure. When she was fully naked—and he still fully clothed—he lifted her in his arms and set her onto the enormous feather bed. “Now go to sleep, my little vixen, and rest up for the days and weeks to come.”
“But I’m not tired.”
He smiled down at her as he began to untie the folds of his cravat, and that was the last thing she remembered before she fell into blessed sleep.
The sweet smell of rich dark chocolate roused her the next morning. A gold ormolu clock on the marble mantle rang nine times, with a lovely clear tone. Further in the distance she heard Bea on her piano. A maid was straightening up the room, and she realized it was her own Mary.
“Well, hello to you,” Mary boomed cheerfully. “Don’t you look all bonny and fresh.”
“I feel bonny,” she agreed. “Will you pass me my robe, please?”
“Of course, my lady.”
Mary came to the side of the bed holding yards of heavy Japanese silk. The pale ivory had been embroidered with a blue heron and soothing gray swirls of mist along the water scene at the hem. Her slippers were at the edge of the bed, and she put one foot and then the other into them. “I will have my chocolate with Beatrix this morning.”
Selina began to pick up the breakfast tray, and Mary intervened abruptly. “You shouldn’t be lifting that, my lady.”
“Whyever not? Just because I married a marquess doesn’t mean I can’t carry my own cup of hot chocolate.”
The maid blushed slightly and then looked stern. “You’ll be carrying a babe soon and I don’t want any worries on my head that you tripped or anything of that nature. So you just leave the carrying to me, my lady.”
Ever since that first night when Mary had transformed her from a ragged hermit to a lady fit to sit at the marquess’s table, the two of them had been fast friends. She had asked Archie if Mary could be her lady’s maid. “Not that I need one, mind you,” she’d quickly added.
He’d laughed and told her she could have twenty maids if she had a mind to. And that had been the end of it.
She huffed. “Very well. You can bring the silly tray into Bea’s room if it makes you feel better.” She walked out of the room with her chin held high, in a mock approximation of a Japanese princess. “Remember you are to remain five paces behind me at all times.”
“That man has created a monster,” Mary grumbled good-naturedly.
Selina laughed. “I heard that.”
“Good!”
They reached the door to Bea’s room, and Selina waited a few moments until Bea paused in her practice, then knocked on the door.
“Come in!”
She and Mary entered the yellow guestroom, now bright with morning sunshine.
“Thank you, Mary. That will be all for now.” She used her haughtiest tone and the maid rolled her eyes and then smiled at Bea. After she had left the room and the door had shut behind her, Selina turned around and flipped the lock.
“Well, well, well. What are we going to do that requires locked doors?” Bea asked, standing up from the piano bench and walking toward her.
The heavy silk robe dragged along her skin, stimulating her breasts, smoothing down her thighs. “I have many things in mind.” She untied the knot at her waist, and the robe slipped open a few inches, not enough to reveal her breasts, but enough to show the triangle of hair at the apex of her thighs. “I woke up wanting you, Bea.” She let go of the belt and reached one hand out for Bea and pressed her other hand against her mound. “When Archie was touching me last night and you were looking at me . . .” Her voice caught. “I was nearly overcome.”
Bea drew her into her arms. “I know, darling. I know.” Bea kissed her hard, nipping at her lower lips and then kissing her way around to Selina’s sensitive earlobe and biting her there too. “But I don’t think Archie knows,” she whispered.
“What?” Selina pulled back roughly. “Of course Archie knows. You are living with us. I am with you as often as I am with him.”
Stroking her fingers along Selina’s exposed belly, Bea slowly removed the robe to reveal her shoulders. “He sees what he wants to see, Selina. He sees two close friends—intimate friends, even—but he sees two girls.”
She tried to get away. “That’s ludicrous. He is a grown man. He has had sexual relations with Christopher, for goodness’ sake. He must know what two people do . . . What we do . . . when we . . .”
“When we ‘get up to whatever it is we get up to’?” Bea echoed Archie’s words of the night before.
“Exactly!” She smiled. “That’s quite precisely how he would describe any sexual act. You know how prudish he is with language.”
Bea shook her head slightly. “I don’t know, darling. I think you might be seeing what you want to see as well. Has he ever actually seen us kiss?” Bea pressed her lips against Selina’s and kissed her senseless, devouring her mouth in an endless barrage of thrusts and parries.
Breathless, Bea tore herself away and continued, “Has he ever seen me ravish your breasts?” Leaning down, she took the tip of one nipple into her slick, warm mouth and began to torture and tease the hard skin. She sucked and scraped her teeth across one and then the other breast until Selina was begging her to stop. “Has he ever seen me make love to you? Really make love to you?” Bea pushed her against the wall, then knelt, pressing her mouth against Selina’s pussy. Bea’s moaning pleasure when she kissed her there ricocheted through Selina’s body.
Bea was relentless, licking softly and then tugging on Selina’s clit with her teeth while her slippery fingers found their way into her. And then Bea twisted her fingers in exactly the way Selina wanted—needed—and teased her clit with light flicks of her tongue until she was begging for release, begging for the culmination rather than the tease. When Bea finally gave it to her, sucking with her mouth, fucking with her hand, she pitched over into a realm of blind, splintering pleasure.
Before she had fully recovered her senses, she was cradled in Bea’s arms and heard her whisper, “No, my darling Selina. Archie has never seen that, not even in his mind’s eye.”
Archie and Christopher decided to have lunch at White’s after attending a morning lecture. Christopher had been out of town for nearly a fortnight and Archie was looking forward to seeing him.
“How is married life treating you now that you have two wives instead of one?” Christopher asked with a slow smile.
“Married life is divine. And I only have one wife, thank you very much. More than enough to keep me busy.” Archie cut into his beef and took a satisfying bite.
“Really?” Christopher picked up his wineglass and swirled the claret. “You’ve never . . . you and Selina with Miss Farnsworth, I mean?”
He set down his fork and knife with a slight clang. “No, Christopher.”
It was unusual for a silence of more than a few seconds to pass between them, especially when they hadn’t seen each other in many weeks. Christopher pressed on. “It’s not as if you and Selina and I didn’t—”
He felt a hot rush up his neck and cheeks. “We are at White’s, for Christ’s sake. Have you no shame?”
“Thankfully, no.” Christopher brought the glass of wine to his lips and swallowed as he stared at Archie.
Shaking his head and t
aking a deep breath, he picked up his fork and knife and resumed eating.
“So the ladies just fuck in the other room, then?” Christopher asked, raising his eyebrows as if he were inquiring about nothing more scandalous than the Duke of Bedford’s new carriage.
Another clanging drop of fork and knife. This time, he made enough noise to turn a few heads. He composed himself, then breathed hard through his nostrils. “Are you willfully trying to upset me?”
“Egad, man, I hadn’t thought to upset you at all—willfully or otherwise. When your letters arrived describing your—” Christopher gestured around to encompass a small circle “—arrangements with Beatrix Farnsworth becoming a member of your household—a member of your family even—it had seemed obvious enough.”
“Well, it’s not.”
“Not obvious to you, you mean? Now that is obvious.”
Archie smiled. “You are merely trying to irritate me. Stop it at once.”
Christopher leaned in. “I’m not sure if you are trying to be upstanding for me, old friend, but given our past together, it seems a bit absurd. Perhaps marriage makes you feel particularly protective of your lady wife’s honor. I shan’t say a word.”
“Damn it. There is no word to say. Selina and Beatrix are the closest of friends. They hold hands. They go on long walks. They are very dear to one another. They don’t . . .” He lowered his voice and looked around the room guiltily. “. . . fuck.”
Christopher started laughing into his napkin, the pale blue fabric a small concession to repressing his uproarious amusement. “Oh, you really are a peach.” He took a sip of water between gasps of laughter. When Christopher finally settled, Archie sat with his arms folded across his chest, his appetite lost, and the rest of his roast beef sitting untouched on the plate in front of him.
“Are you quite done?” he asked coolly.
“Oh, my good friend. I’m afraid you are the one who is done for.” Christopher’s face turned serious in an instant. “I suggest you go home to your lady wife and her very dear companion. And open your damn eyes.”