The Rakehell Regency Romance Series Boxed Set 5

by MacMurrough, Sorcha

  "And I love you, Ellen. I just wish, well, that I hadn’t waited so long to consummate our relationship, " he admitted with a sigh.

  The colour flew to her cheeks. "I rather wish you hadn’t either. The day I proposed becoming your mistress would have been fine with me."

  He held her tightly to him and said, "It almost was. And now, just when I’m so close to you that I can feel your heart beating with mine, we have to—"

  "It’s all right. We’re together now. When it happens it happens. Wherever, whenever. We still have our lovely boudoir of bliss. We just need to put a few more locks on our doors."

  Ash nodded. "I’m not going to try to engineer things any more. I just want to give you the utmost pleasure, take you to Heaven and back."

  "I never come back. I’m always in Heaven with you, Ash," she said, melting against him.

  He flashed her a warm smile. "I’m so glad. For me it’s the same."

  She gave him one last kiss, then straighted her clothes and became a model of brisk efficiency. "But come, darling. Charlotte needs us. Plenty of time for that later."

  Ash grinned. "I can’t wait."

  "Pray God we won't have to much longer. Now put away that lingam, no, stop it, you tease, and let's go."

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  In the end, Charlotte remained with them for a little over a week. Ash had propped her up under the sheets with a large wedge-shaped cushion beneath her hips. Her bleeding had eventually stopped, and with it her continual nausea.

  The whole family, knowing she was a lively young woman inclined to overdo things if not kept firmly under control, went out of their way to keep her entertained.

  Ellen felt as though she lived in a coaching inn with so many comings and goings. She did not begrudge Charlotte being ill, but it was only in the wee hours of the night and morning that she could be sure no one would come in through one or the other of their bedroom doors.

  She was also so tired at the end of each day, that often just a bit of ‘towse and mowse’ from Ash as he called it was enough to send her soaring and then plummeting into sleep.

  She was beginning to think they were never going to get to consummate their marriage, though Ash replied calmly when she expressed her concerns that nothing was going to keep him from her once they had their privacy again.

  "And we’re getting to know so much more about each other, darling, that when we finally become as one there will be no fear, no hesitation."

  "There’s none now. I adore you. Your feel, taste, smell," she admitted, beginning to nuzzle his abdomen before moving down even lower.

  "You are a most loving and demonstrative wife, my darling, but you don’t have to—"

  "You do it to me every opportunity. And I want it all tonight."

  "Ellen, really—"

  "Yes, really. All of you."

  His head now drew level with her mound, and he was about to trace her peaks and valleys lightly with the tip of his tongue when they both froze.

  It was well past midnight. They had shared a sensual snack of tea and biscuits before eagerly retiring to the bed. Now they could hear all sorts of mutterings behind their other bedroom door and sat bolt upright. They tugged on their silk dressing gowns and tiptoed to the portal to listen.

  Thomas’s voice penetrated the wooden panelling. "I can’t believe you would even suggest— What sort of man do you take me for? I could never-"

  "But Thomas, I can’t- And you are so importunate," Charlotte replied, sounding almost in tears. "We can at least try to—"

  "You told me you were all right, just a sore back. Now you’re acting like, I don’t know. Like you can’t bear me to touch you. Just what on earth is going on—"

  Ellen and Ash both looked at each other. She grabbed the tea tray off their table. The brew was probably stewed by now and quite tepid, but it was the best excuse they could come up with at such short notice.

  He tapped at the door, and they waited whilst Thomas evidently climbed back into his shirt and trousers.

  "Yes, come in," he called at last.

  "Sorry, we just though you might like some tea. Forgive me if it’s not quite to your taste. Ash tends to drink it rather strong. Is everything all right?"

  Her tone was neutral, but there was no mistaking the way they were both looking at Charlotte.

  Thomas saw it and seethed. It was almost as if… as if they knew more about his own wife than he did. Or as if they were all part of some secret that he wasn’t privy to.

  Thomas took in Ellen’s appearance, her flushed cheeks and lips, her curvaceous body, now suddenly voluptuous-looking in the fine blue silk robe which matched her eyes.

  Who would have ever thought the little thing he had dandled on his knee would have turned into such a sultry-looking woman?

  But if there was ever a rakish-looking man in England, it was Ash Paignton. His entire body bespoke raw male passion. How he had ever found satisfaction in a prim little thing like Ellen he had no idea. But then, perhaps he hadn’t?

  Thomas tried to quash the idea as soon as it arose. But he couldn’t get out of his head the way Ash and Charlotte were looking at each other.

  A host of awful suspicions began to rise in his mind. First there was his wife's refusal to let him hold her, and her rejection of his suggestions that they could try a few other positions to see if they could manage.

  Then had come her incredibly lewd proposition, when she had never done such a thing in all of their married years. Now the two of them had entered semi-clad, almost as if, well, they were coming to her rescue.

  But he couldn’t believe Ellen would be a party to anything so monstrous. They had had such a wonderful time in London, with no hint of anything unseemly.

  True, Charlotte and Ash had seemed to be quite close and friendly with each other before Ellen had married him. Now he recalled the horse race. His wife’s silk hankie as a favour. The kiss.

  Then Ash had kissed Georgina at the ball, and his wife had insisted on coming back to Somerset. As had Ellen.

  Now Thomas began to doubt everything he had thought to be true. Tried to recollect how often Charlotte and Ash had sat with each other, going all the way back to when Ash had first become friendly with his wife, years before when Martin and Eswara had been courting each other.

  Before that, Ash had fancied Bryony Avenel by all accounts. He was a good-looking young man who evidently like to consort with experienced older women. Not that his wife or Bryony had ever done anything unseemly, but...

  Poor Ellen. Georgina had been bad enough. He felt his blood boil as he watched the way she behaved so deferentially towards her husband. He had no idea what Ash might have said to his wife to get her to bring in the tea. But they must have heard...

  "Oh, we’re fine, thank you."

  "Well, you won’t mind if we just sit here and have cup with Charlotte?" Ellen persisted.

  "Are you sure you won’t join us, darling?" Charlotte asked timidly.

  "And can we get you anything?" Ash asked, strolling into the bathroom suddenly. "Have you enough towels and soap, that sort of thing?"

  When he emerged from the bathing chamber, Ellen could see he had something in his hand which he slipped into the cup she poured.

  He handed it to Thomas, though politesse should have dictated that Charlotte got the first cup. But Thomas took it and drank the tepid brew in one gulp, proclaiming it delicious.

  "Such wonderful spices."

  "Yes, indeed. I shall give you the recipe. Would you like more?" Ellen asked calmly.

  "Only if there’s sufficient for all four of us."

  "There is indeed, and we can always make more," Ellen said swiftly.

  "Oh no, it’s very late and I wouldn’t want to put you to so much trouble."

  "No trouble at all. We make it on the fire in our other room," she said, pouring out more for each of them.

  "Er, yes, your other room. Thank you so much for being able to accommodate us at short notice, and on your
honeymoon, no less."

  "Don't mention it," the newlyweds replied simultaneously, then both gave each other a warm smile.

  The smile, though innocent enough, set off alarm bells in the Duke's head once again.

  "A little for you, my dear Duchess," Ash said, handing her half a cup. "Tea can keep one awake, and you need to rest that back of yours. No sudden movements, remember. And you might get leg cramps from being prone so still. Your husband can rub your calves, but you needed to keep your back flat and those knees and hips up. Nothing worse than a chipped bone."

  "No indeed, as I’ve discovered to my chagrin," she said, bestowing a warm smile upon Ash.

  Warmer than the discussion warranted, in her husband’s opinion. Was his wife actually flirting with the young man?

  He looked grimly at the pictures on the wall.

  Ellen noted his stares. "We can take them down if they annoy you," she offered quietly

  "No, of course not. It is your room to do with as you wish. But it seems most peculiar to have three beds and two such very different bedrooms."

  "All of us have two sides," Ash said without a trace of embarrassment. "They need to be balanced and in harmony like the masculine and the feminine in the world. So there is the practical and prosaic, and the sultry and sensual."

  "You think this chamber is an appropriate place to put my wife?" Thomas asked through stiff lips.

  Ellen spoke up quickly. "As I said, we can take down the pictures, but the other room is less convenient for the bathroom, and—"

  But the Duke was already looking in the door that they had accidentally left ajar, and now frowned his disapproval. Thomas demanded of his wife now, "Are you really still feeling so pained that you can’t go back to our house?"

  He fumed as Charlotte looked to Ash first before replying.

  "Ash is the doctor. I need to follow his instructions."

  "He’s newly qualifed," Thomas said furiously. "I’m off to get a second opinion from Eswara, and a third from Blake. This really is too much—"

  "What is?" Ash asked quietly.

  "I think you know," Thomas replied, his tone sharp.

  "I’m afraid I don’t. But it’s rather late. I’m sure Blake and Arabella will not appreciate you knocking them up at this hour of the night. Can please wait until morning? Ellen and I are going to bed now, and shall leave you in peace."

  Charlotte looked fearful for a moment, but sighed. "Yes, what a good idea. I’m feeling ever so sleepy after that tea."

  She had guessed Ash had put something into the beverage, for she saw her husband look a bit blank and yawn long and hard.

  Thomas was now feeling too relaxed and sleepy after the valerian had begun coursing through his veins to put up very much of a protest.

  "Very well. But first thing tomorrow I am speaking with Blake and your mother."

  "Fine. Good night," Ash said.

  "Good night, Ash, Ellen."

  Ash and Ellen congratulated themselves for circumventing Thomas. But Ash knew it was only going to get harder for Charlotte. Well, it was her decision not to tell her husband about her danger.

  At least if Blake came into the case, Thomas wouldn’t keep looking daggers at him as though he were ravishing his wife.

  But the sooner he taught Charlotte a few more tricks to keep her husband's male desires mollified, the better.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Thomas was slightly more gracious the next day when both Eswara and Blake concurred that Charlotte was not to be moved.

  But a few hours later, Thomas nearly went through the roof when his exploration of them unusual suite of chambers adjoining the burgundy and blue one in which he had been staying revealed not only the silk draped room and its various treats, but the mirrored room with cushions, which could have had only one use intended for it.

  Even worse, if such a thing were possible, was the statue Ash had created and placed in there, concealed by a silk cloth which the Duke simply had been unable to resist lifting.

  "Good Lord in Heaven, this place is a den of iniquity!" Thomas exclaimed, storming back into their room.

  Charlotte shrugged. "They’re young newlyweds and have their own way of enjoying themselves. It’s no worse than what the rakes get up to in the clubs and gambling dens, and what one can see in a museum."

  "Oh really, and what would you know about gentlemen’s clubs?"

  She rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Come, my dear, I’m no fool. Living with you and the Rakehells has been an eye-opening experience."

  Thomas seethed. "In what way, Madam?"

  She blushed. "Well, you know. I’m a bit more, um, understanding—"

  "What has that young man been telling you?" he barked.

  "Ash? No, I didn’t mean—"

  "Who then?"

  "No one in particular, just a few things I’ve heard about—"

  "I cannot believe a gentleman would discuss such things with you. But then his father was only a small landholder."

  "I never said Ash told me anything of the sort. Well, not about London anyway."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Nothing, nothing at all," she said with a blush, trying to tear her eyes away from the statue which he had been brandishing, which she knew had been done from a life-model. Ash himself.

  That thought caused her to blush even more furiously, and to think that Ellen was a very lucky girl indeed. Which led her to her own thoughts about how fortunate a wife she was. But her embarrassment looked very like guilt to her suspicious husband.

  He instantly began to rage. "That’s it, you’re coming home with me now." He began to look around the room for a suitable garment for her to don.

  Ellen, hearing the sound of raised voices from where she had been baking in the kitchen, ran to the infirmary to fetch her husband.

  By the time they got to the chamber and knocked on the door, Thomas had stuffed his wife into Ellen’s red flannel dressing gown despite her protests that her back still hurt. He gathered Charlotte up into the silk bedding in preparation for departure.

  "What on earth are you doing? Blake said she was not to be moved," Ash stated angrily.

  "Blake didn’t know my wife was being kept in a knocking shop."

  Ash’s jaw dropped open. "Pardon?"

  "Look at this place. Like a bordello! The mirrors, the well, statues. Or is that vast phallus supposed to serve another purpose?"

  Ellen groaned as she realised he had found Ash’s teaching model.

  "I’m going to get your mother," she said hurriedly, and fled.

  Ash did not back down. "Your wife is ill. Please try to contain your puritanical ire long enough to listen to reason."

  But Thomas was livid with jealousy. "Reason? There is none for what I’ve seen here! It’s beastly! How could you! My own wife! I thought we were friends!"

  Ash glared. "I may be young and lusty, but I’m not so lost to reason that I would defile my own doorstep. I have to live in this district too. I’m happily married, with a lovely soul-mate I would never dream of hurting. Please, your Grace, talk to your wife. Perhaps she can get you to understand—"

  He looked at her beseechingly, but Charlotte remained wretchedly silent.

  "Perhaps I should talk to your wife," Thomas hissed.

  Ash shrugged. "By all means. She’ll tell you the same thing. Your prurient imagination is leading you to folly."

  "Unless of course your wife is as debauched as you," he accused with an ugly twist of his lips.

  Ash lost all patience then. "Let me see if I understand you correctly, Your Grace. Not content with my lovely virgin bride, less than a fortnight after I wed I not only take as a mistress a married woman with a bad back whose family and my wife’s have been friends for years, but I also bring her home to my own bed for a menage a trois? And invite you to stay also, perhaps for a happy foursome? My, you really do think ill of me and my compatriots. Some Radical you are. Racist more like."

  "You can’t deny all the talk
there’s been about Ellen!" Thomas fired back.

  He stiffened with fury at the aspersions the Duke was daring to cast on his innocent wife. "I can’t deny what I haven’t heard," Ash said struggling to keep his temper. "But if it came from Timothy Bridges, then it's not worth a damn—"