‘You would not…’
‘You would be surprised, sir, just what I am capable of, if it concerns the welfare of Lady Drusilla. Or her sister,’ he added, trying to be less transparent. ‘But I can assure you, if you ever return to London, and if I ever hear so much as a word of scandal about either of the Rudney sisters, I will find you and make an end to you.’ He glanced at the stable boy. ‘Young man, get me the coach ticket from the breast pocket of my coat.’
The boy brought him the ticket and he released Gervaise and forced the thing into his hand. ‘I suggest, Mr Gervaise, that you go north. For your health. I hear that Orkney is lovely this time of year.’
Gervaise looked puzzled. ‘But the Orkneys are on the other coast. With this ticket it would make far more sense—’
‘Never mind!’ John spun away and snatched the coat from the hands of the shocked stable boy. Then he turned to the Benbridge servants, who had been observing the scene without comment. ‘Take this refuse and his baggage away. Anywhere he likes as long as you drop him on a north-bound coach route. Return in the morning for the ladies. They shall be ready to depart after breakfast.’
Then he returned to the inn to deal with Dru.
Chapter Fourteen
Dru paced the confines of the little room she had taken to freshen herself and await the return of Mr Hendricks. There was no point in trying to talk to Priss, for the girl was as good as her word. She had shut herself up in the largest room that the innkeeper could offer and was deep in the throes of a tantrum that would last the better part of the day. It would go on even longer if Dru indulged it by giving it any attention.
That left her alone and with time enough to worry. Through the door, Priss had sobbed something about Gervaise having a pistol. Dru could not know if it was an attempt by her sister to make her departure look more coerced than simply willful. But if it was true, then surely Mr Hendricks deserved a warning that the man he faced might be armed.
When she had announced she was going down to ascertain the direction of things, Priss had roused sufficiently to open the door and offer to join her. She was eager to see the duel being fought in her honour. Dru had renewed hectoring the girl until she was sure that the tears were flowing properly again, then made them all the worse by pointing out that no man would fight for a woman with a red nose and streaming eyes. With that, she was sure she would see no more of her sister until morning.
It would have been much worse had they not rescued Priss before she got to the border. But the idea that Mr Hendricks might come to harm through any of it was quite the worst thing she could imagine. She would never forgive herself if Gervaise managed to do him an injury.
She had told him as they travelled that a physical altercation was hardly necessary. Silence and discretion were key. If he had allowed her to deal with Gervaise as she had wanted, she could have arranged a settlement and sent him on his way without a scene. She had never intended that, when the moment came, Mr Hendricks would have to fight her battles for her, with fist or weapon.
That was foolishness, when all it would take to dislodge Gervaise was money. If it even took that. After a few days alone with Priss, it was quite possible that he’d grown bloated with the contact like a tick and was ready to drop off on his own.
But judging by how angry he had looked in the dining room, the non-violent solution did not seem to be enough to satisfy Mr Hendricks. Perhaps a few days in her company had driven him mad. He had been as inflammatory as possible until enough insults had been exchanged to make a duel inevitable. And before the end of it, he had quit her service, giving her no authority to stop him.
Mr Hendricks was strong and resourceful in his own way, of course. He hardly seemed the sort that would resort to such extremes when he had sufficient brains to find another solution. But it seemed when a girl like Priss was involved, men did not use their brains to lead their actions. Now he was likely to come to a bad end, brawling with a stranger.
She thought of the Countess of Folbroke, who, had she been more charitably disposed to poor John, might have saved him from this fate. Although the woman could hardly cuckold her husband as a matter of gratitude, surely there must have been some way to release him gently, instead of discarding him as though he were nothing.
As Dru had. She wished she could call back the last three days, and start again, to be kinder to him. And to give him some small clue how she felt. Or at least to be sure that he would not go to his grave angry with her.
The door burst suddenly open and Hendricks strode through, alone, slamming it behind him.
‘You are safe?’ Without another thought she threw herself at him, clinging to his arm, weak with relief. She patted his body and stroked his arms and chest, but could find no wounds or marks upon it, no evidence of the duel that Priss had envisioned.
He glared down at her, but did not shake her off. ‘Of course I am. Not that you have any reason to thank yourself for it. After two years in Portugal, I have more than enough battle seasoning to take on a dancing master.’ The words came out of him in a sneer, as though it were something he did not want to think, much less speak aloud.
‘And Gervaise?’
John gave her a grim smile. ‘Is gone, with his pretty nose broken, just as I promised you.’
‘But the scandal…’
‘There will be none. Wherever the coach takes him, it will not be London.’ He shook her from his arm and grabbed his cravat, tearing it from his throat and dashing it to the ground. ‘And why young ladies are fascinated with the likes of him, I have really no idea. I should think, if you had any sense at all, you would not bother to cross the street to see to his safety. But to come all the way to Scotland…’
‘It would be very distressing, should he come to harm,’ she assured him. ‘Priss is already distraught. And I did not give you leave to fight the man.’
‘Give me leave?’ He tossed the coat he was holding over the chair nearest the bed. ‘As you remember, Lady Drusilla, I left your employ before putting up my fists.’
‘And if the altercation had led to his demise…?’
His eyes narrowed. ‘Then it would have served the three of you right. If I had had any idea that such a man was to be the reason for your journey, I would have denied you on the first night.’
‘Well, I am thankful that you did not know,’ she said, lifting her chin a fraction. ‘If you felt so strongly about this, but thought so little of me, then you needn’t have risked yourself in confronting him.’
‘Oh, ho, ho!’ John reached to undo the buttons of his vest. ‘Now we have the truth of it. You chose me as your aide in this because you did not think me man enough to stand against him. Did you expect me to stand by, polishing my spectacles as he insulted you, awaiting my dismissal?’ The vest was open now and he removed it and tossed it uncaring after his coat, only to miss the chair and send it slithering to the floor.
‘That is terribly unfair of you,’ she said, retrieving his vest and placing it properly on the chair so that it would not wrinkle. And then she stopped to look at it, puzzled. It was barely supper time, and there was no reason for them to be changing for bed.
Nor was this his room. It was hers and there was no reason to share it. They had money enough to stay properly separated and she had reserved a place for him just down the hall. He must leave this room immediately. At least, after he had put his coat on again. She had her honour to think of, although why she had not thought of it before, she was not sure.
She turned back to him to demand an explanation. And he stood before her, shirt open and showing more bare male skin than she had ever seen in her life.
He went on, heedless of her stare. ‘You were the one who was unfair, my Lady Drusilla. You expected me to sleep by your side like some kind of damned monk, so that you could stop this foolish marriage.
You sneered at your friend for throwing herself at men beneath her class—’
‘Actually she was Priss’s friend, and it was not her…’ she interjected, trying to tear her eyes away from his body.
But there was no indication that Mr Hendricks had heard her. ‘Then you expect me to clear the field for you, so you can throw yourself on that primped-up popinjay.’
‘Clear the field for me? Now just a minute, Mr Hendricks.’
‘Not another minute longer.’ He took a menacing step towards her, looming in the confines of the little room, making her feel small and helpless. ‘If you think I will stand idly by while you make the same mistake as your foolish sister, you are sorely mistaken. I have thwarted one elopement and can just as easily thwart another.’
‘My sister is not foolish,’ she insisted. Priss was exceptionally so, but that did not give Hendricks the right to comment on it.
Then she realised that he was removing his glasses, folding them with a snap and setting them upon the table, staring at her with those angry amber eyes.
She looked back into them and what she saw frightened her; she could not seem to look away from it, it was terrifying, yet intriguing, wild and unstoppable. She took another step back and felt herself bumping into the edge of the bed.
Then he smiled and it was hard and predatory. And if she was to be totally honest, quite exciting. ‘I mean, my dear Dru, that you have dragged me half the length of Britain on a fool’s errand, treating me like nothing more than a sexless lackey. And now it is time for you to pay the piper. Run to tend the wounds of your dancing master, if you must. But you will do it when I am through with you, and not a moment before.’
‘Me?’
And he was on her, like a wolf in a sheep’s fold.
There was a moment, before his lips touched hers, where she had time to suspect that he had misunderstood her motives. She had no intention of going after Gervaise, and owed Hendricks a ‘thank you’ for his swift handling of the situation. But it did seem that he had got confused about her reasons for the trip.
Then his tongue was in her mouth and she could hardly breathe, let alone think. When she could manage to gather her thoughts, she suspected that the last thing she wanted was to mention Priss and run the risk of receiving a polite apology and the sight of the door closing behind a retreating John Hendricks.
What had she done to imply he was sexless? she wondered. Did he not remember how she had swooned under his hand, that day in the hayfield? And now he was likely to do the same thing to her with a kiss. But there was nothing educational about it. This was to be a final test that assumed she had a complete knowledge of the subject. He was demanding that she prove competence, before moving on to the next lesson. His hand was on her jaw, opening her to him, stroking her throat as his tongue took hers, rhythmically, deeply, over and over.
He was here. He had not left her. She had been so afraid that she would never see him again. With relief, she let him master her.
But it seemed that the kiss was not enough. His hand went lower, reaching between them to undo the drop front of her gown, and he thrust his hand inside of it. When his fingers brushed against her nipples where they peeked out from the lacings that held them, she let out a little squeak of shock, and he pulled away from her to look into her eyes.
‘Now you mean to be the prim-and-proper miss again? As though you have no idea what you do to a man, with those big brown eyes and that delicious body? Your tricks will not work with me any longer.’
‘What I do?’ She was doing nothing. It was he who was driving her to madness. His fingers that were raking lightly along her skin, tormenting her, and outlining her nipples through the fabric of her shift. And now they were untying the ribbon at the neck until it gaped low to expose them. She felt cold and hot at the same time; her knees went weak as he pushed her backward to sit on the mattress. Then he stripped his shirt over his head and bent over her, cupping the back of her neck to push her face into his bare skin until she could feel one of the tiny buds on his chest pressed tight against her closed lips.
It was insanity. She wanted to open her mouth and take him in. She knew she shouldn’t, but she did, licking eagerly at what he offered.
Above her, and against her, she could hear the low rumbling of his voice. ‘Perhaps you thought it a grand romantic adventure to dangle me on a string while running to meet your lover. But damn it, Dru, a man can only take so much. And I have taken all that I can, and then more.’ Then he was pushing her away, on to her back, dragging her up onto the bed and lying on top of her, taking her mouth with slow deep penetrations of his tongue as his hands untied her stays and pushed her bodice and shift to her waist until he could cup her naked breasts in his palms.
It had been good in the hayfield, daring and dangerous. But that was nothing compared to this. She had not been able to see his eyes as he’d touched her then—the bottomless smoky gold of them that seemed to trap her look of pleasure and give it back to her. And she had not seen the smile on his face as he watched her.
Her breasts felt so swollen that they almost hurt. And yet he continued to touch them and lowered his face slowly as though he meant to kiss them. ‘Please,’ she begged.
And he laughed at her. He took them into his mouth, each in turn, sucking upon them to give her relief. She relaxed back into the pillows, letting him take what he wanted. But it seemed that this was but a calm before a storm. The tension was growing in her again, as it had in the hayfield.
He paused again and climbed up on the bed to straddle her, ‘Now, I will take the one thing I truly want from you in payment for this trip. Unfasten my trousers, Lady Drusilla. You know well enough how they come undone.’
And she almost obeyed him without thinking, before sanity returned. ‘I mustn’t.’
He caught her hand, running his fingers lightly across the knuckles of it, and said, ‘I do not mean to give you a choice.’ Then he pinned it to her side and stooped to kiss his way down her chest, and settled on her breast again.
She had no choice. She did not have to worry about her father’s anger, or her sister’s welfare, or what tomorrow might bring for any of them. For a little time at least, John Hendricks was in complete control and demanding that he be allowed to pleasure her. And if he did not stop what he was doing this instant, she would scream with delight.
Then someone might come and discover them. If nothing else, the beating of her heart would draw them, for it must be so loud that the whole inn could hear it. So she bit her lip to turn the cry of shock into a throaty moan and did her best to slow her pulse to something not quite so deafening.
The cries that she could not manage to stifle were little more than a series of gasps, as the strange rippling inside of her grew, crested and faded. She let out a final sigh of relief that it had passed and they were undisturbed. For a moment, until he was through with her, she was the centre of a man’s universe, and she did not want to yield the stage to an outraged knock upon the door.
He released her hand and gave a final lick of her nipple before letting it slip from his mouth. And when he looked up at her, he smiled.
It was a wicked smile that hinted of things to come. Delicious punishments. Wonderful tortures that would leave her helpless with satisfaction. She felt as though some part of her was going to burst like a grape and imagined him licking away the juice of it, staring at her with those strange golden eyes, and running his tongue over his teeth as he smiled.
And before he had even touched her, the trembling was beginning inside of her again. One of his hands was on her skirt now, lifting the hem until she lay exposed to his gaze. He stared, eyes hooded, intent. And then he trailed a finger up her stocking and higher, settling near the place he had touched her when they had stopped to rest.
And just as it had been with her breast, it was different w
hen he was touching her bare skin. She had not imagined those sensations to be muted, but clearly they were. Now his fingers had the freedom to slide along the most sensitive places of her body, which felt wet and swollen. And suddenly, they speared into her, and the shock of it made her almost rise off the bed.
She struggled for a moment, unsure what was happening. But he held her with his gaze and his fingers pushed harder, deeper, faster.
And as though to prove to her mind how well he knew her, her body crested quickly and then relaxed, legs falling open of their own volition, and her back arched to offer herself to him as his mouth returned to her breasts.
And the spiral began again. She could feel herself slipping away, just as the sensations were blending, fusing, growing and there was a final touch, which was somehow both hard and gentle, and then her soul seemed to leave her body, helpless and shaking on the bed.
Then he rose to straddle her again and removed his fingers, making her moan in disappointment. Again, he smiled his knowing smile and said, ‘Now do as I asked.’ And he gathered her hands and gave them an encouraging squeeze before placing them on the waistband of his trousers.
With a shudder of suppressed excitement, she undid the buttons until the drop front fell away. Then he pressed his manhood against the palm of her hand and leaned forwards to ring her throat with short eager kisses, as though he meant to eat her. He was rubbing himself gently against her fingers and he seemed to grow larger and harder with each touch. It did not feel as she’d expected it to, warm and heavy and alive.
Nor did she feel as she’d expected, frightened and vulnerable. She felt as she had when he’d finished with her out in the field, strange, tingly and wet. She had not known what was happening then. But as she looked at him now, and thought of what his fingers had been doing, she began to imagine something they might try that would feel even better. In fact, she was convinced that if he did not attempt it on his own, she would have to shock him by suggesting it.
Lady Drusilla's Road to Ruin Page 14