No, she certainly couldn't fault his taste. The willowy blonde was enchanting, with just enough of a lisp to suggest an innocence she surely did not possess. Nessa had not yet determined her own feelings on the matter, however.
Jealousy, she told herself, was far beneath her, particularly with a cyprian as its object. Still, she could not deny a surge of something—envy, perhaps?—as she watched Jack's erstwhile paramour cavort upon the stage. What freedom such a woman enjoyed! How could a prim and proper widow like Nessa compete with such unbridled joie de vivre? And did she want to?
Yes, she admitted, she did. She wanted to turn men's heads—particularly Jack's—to tempt him to indiscretions, throwing propriety and judgment to the winds. A mere fantasy, of course, but… that kiss in the carriage tonight had shown that Jack desired her. Was it just possible her fantasy had a chance of fulfillment?
Sneaking a glance at Jack, she found him regarding her thoughtfully—almost confusedly. She smiled mysteriously before turning back to the stage, her thoughts an exciting, alarming jumble.
Their group ventured out of the box between acts, exchanging greetings with others doing the same. Between an array of bobbing turbans and feathers, Nessa saw Mrs. Dempsey a short distance away, clad in a gown that made the Countess Lieven's look positively modest. The other woman was clearly trying to catch Jack's eye, but caught Nessa's instead. Tilting up her chin, Nessa smiled brightly to show she knew what she was about before turning back to Jack. With the tail of her eye, she caught the affronted surprise on Mrs. Dempsey's face.
“How long before we should return to our box?” she whispered to Jack—not so much because she wanted to know, but because she wanted Mrs. Dempsey to wonder what she was telling him.
He smiled down at her. “Anxious to see more of the play, my dear? I'm pleased that you're enjoying your first foray to the theater. We have another five minutes, I should think.”
Nessa wasn't sure she could call the tangle of emotions in her breast enjoyment, but she was certainly finding the evening educational. Still, she was far more eager for the close of the play than its continuance. She longed for the carriage ride home, where she could again practice her fledgling art of seduction.
~ ~ ~
NESSA WAS JUST as glad the dim interior of the carriage concealed the tint of her cheeks, for she was certain they were flaming. How was she to play the seductress when she was blushing like a schoolgirl at the mere memory of her last kiss in these confines?
Lord Haughton had never kissed her with such intimacy, even when in her bed. Indeed, his kisses had always inspired distaste and dread rather than pleasure. Were the feelings aroused by that mingling of tongues normal? Whether they were or not, she wanted to experience them again, to decipher them. She slid closer to Jack.
“Thank you for bringing me to the theater tonight,” she said, wishing she could come up with something more interesting. No doubt the women to whom he was accustomed were scintillating conversationalists.
“The pleasure was mine, I assure you.” He again draped his arm across her shoulders. “Did you find it to be what you expected?”
She tilted her head to one side. “Yes and no. The performance was very good, very much as I'd imagined A Midsummer Night's Dream would appear on the stage. But the audience was rather a surprise. Few of them seemed to be there to watch the play.”
“Very true,” he agreed with a chuckle. “You must realize, of course, that most of them have seen it several times previously. They attend for the social aspects, not considering that their activities are distracting to newer theater attendees.”
“Oh, I found it all fascinating,” she assured him. The drive was short, so she moved even closer so as not to waste this opportunity. “I begin to realize just how much I still have to learn of Town life.”
“And of life in general?” he asked softly.
She looked up to find him gazing intently at her. “Yes,” she whispered. “Fortunately, I have an excellent tutor.”
She had thought she was ready for his kiss, but when his lips touched hers she felt, as before, that she might fly into a million pieces. It was an exquisite sensation, starting in her chest and licking outward toward her extremities. This time she parted her lips at the first touch of his tongue, allowing him inside, sliding her own tongue along his.
Both of his arms were around her now, pulling her even closer. With one hand, he stroked her back. In return, she threaded her fingers through his hair, exploring the sides of his face, his ears, his throat with her touch. His right hand slid from her back to her side, then up to cup her breast through layers of fabric. Now she was the one to moan, her senses demanding more and more of these strange new stimuli.
But as before, he pulled away, though lingeringly. His breathing was fast and loud in the darkness. “My love, you spur me to heights for which this is hardly the time or place.” His voice was unsteady, but she scarcely noticed, focusing instead on his first two words. But then he continued.
“Given my lack of self control when with you, I believe it might be best if I were to retire to Fox Manor until our wedding. It will be safer so.”
“Safer?” Nessa was not certain she completely understood.
He nodded. “Pray forgive my bluntness. Though I know neither of us are, ah, untouched, I am determined to wait until we are wed to consummate our union.”
Nessa caught her breath at such plain speaking. Of course he must see that as the inevitable end of such activity as they were just now sharing. Any man would. Absurdly, stupidly, she had not thought it through in that way, never having before felt anything akin to desire for a man.
“I am sorry, Jack. I did not mean…”
“No, I didn't really think you did.” His voice was gentle, not at all accusing. “You cannot help being irresistible.” Now his tone was teasing, and again she was thankful he could not see her blush. “There are various preparations I wish to oversee at Fox Manor, in any event. I should have been there already.”
Nessa nodded, not trusting her voice as a cold finger of apprehension touched the back of her neck. She'd deliberately avoided thinking about the marriage bed, but now it loomed large—that most unpleasant aspect of marriage. The one she'd tried hardest to forget. Kisses were one thing, and with Jack, quite pleasurable. The marriage act was something else entirely. Though she knew it was the price she would have to pay for the freedom Jack offered her, she was in no hurry to pay it.
“Yes, that makes sense,” she finally managed to say. “You'll let me know when the Creamcrofts and I are to join you there?”
“Of course.” The carriage pulled to a halt before the house. “I'll call tomorrow so that we may work out the details.”
~ ~ ~
“’TIS SETTLED, then.” Jack rose to take his leave of Nessa and her sister. “I'll look to see you the afternoon of December seventh.”
“With the wedding to take place on the tenth,” agreed Prudence. “It still seems very rushed, but Nessa has convinced me that your obligation to the Duke of Wellington makes it necessary.”
Again Nessa felt a thrill of excitement at the thought of Paris. “We shall put the intervening time to good use,” she assured Jack. “I've my wedding clothes and trousseau to purchase, among other things.” She deliberately kept her tone playful to disguise her conflicting feelings about his departure. London would seem quite dull without Jack in it, she feared.
He took her hand. “I eagerly look forward to the results.” Pressing a lingering kiss to her wrist, just above her glove, he lifted his eyes to hers. The promise she saw there snatched her breath. Fortunately, Prudence saved her from the necessity of speaking.
“Pray have a safe journey, my lord. I confess, I am nearly as eager to see Fox Manor as Nessa is. We shall join you there in a month's time.”
Nessa murmured her agreement, hoping that her eyes spoke more eloquently than her words. And then he was gone, for four long weeks. She stifled a small sigh.
Pr
udence, showing herself more perceptive than expected, suggested that they begin shopping that very afternoon. Nessa agreed, eager for any employment to take her mind off of Jack's absence—and what would follow their reunion. She still had not shaken off the trepidation which had seized her last night at the thought of her approaching wedding night. Her last one had been such a nightmare…
Lord Haughton had given her an hour to prepare, though she'd had no idea how to do so. Her mother's advice had consisted only of: “Try to think pleasant thoughts, and don't move too much.” Not precisely helpful. So she'd changed quickly into her night rail and climbed beneath the covers of the big, strange bed to await him.
She'd had a vague idea of the mechanics of coupling from her visits to tenant farms during breeding season, though of course she was not expected to notice such things. But applying such limited knowledge to her own body was no easy thing, despite her rather vivid imagination.
Her husband had not made it any easier. Joining her after precisely one hour, he had expressed approval that she was ready—though she felt anything but. Dropping his dressing gown a brief second before crawling under the covers, he'd afforded Nessa her first glimpse of male nudity—and an unappetizing glimpse it was. In his prime, Lord Haughton could not have been called a fine figure of a man, with his spindly legs and thin chest. At nearly fifty, with the addition of a decided paunch, he was less so.
What he did next made Nessa forget his appearance, however. Rolling on top of her, he pinned her to the bed. For an instant she tried to struggle, before remembering her mother's words. Clenching her teeth, she forced herself to remain motionless while her new husband pulled up her nightgown and inserted something foreign and surprisingly hard between her legs.
The rest was a blur in her memory, a blur of panic and pain, and of chanting her mother's brief advice over and over in her head while her husband moved above her, his face contorting strangely. After perhaps ten minutes of this—though it seemed like hours—Lord Haughton ceased his movements. Kissing her lightly on the cheek, he thanked her formally, resumed his dressing gown and left.
Over the months that followed, the same scenario was repeated, every week or two at first, then less and less frequently. Nessa's panic had abated once she knew what to expect, but the pain had grown only a little less. Certainly, she'd never learned to anticipate her husband's nocturnal visits with anything other than dread.
Surely, though, surely, Jack would be different? His kisses were enjoyable where Lord Haughton's had not been, so perhaps his lovemaking would be—if not pleasant, then not entirely distasteful. She could only hope so.
“Nessa, did you hear me?” Prudence sounded mildly exasperated.
Blinking, Nessa realized she'd forgotten her sister's presence during her musings. “I'm sorry. What did you say?”
“I was merely asking whether you wished to take a light luncheon before we begin our shopping.” She smiled. “You truly must hold Lord Foxhaven in affection to be daydreaming about him only moments after he has gone.”
Nessa only wished her thoughts had been so agreeably employed.
~ ~ ~
SHOPPING DISTRACTED Nessa from her fears to a great extent, and for the next few weeks she was able to immerse herself in fabrics, lace, ribbons, stockings and buttons. Prudence appeared to enjoy the process nearly as much as she did, and Nessa made certain her sister added more touches of color to her own wardrobe with her occasional purchases.
Oddly, Nessa felt less inclined toward flamboyance than she had during her first, post-mourning shopping spree, though she still tended toward cheerful shades. The gowns she bought now were respectable, but definitely not dull. In fact, more than one modiste complimented her on her keen fashion sense.
Leaving a milliner's shop about a week after Jack's departure, she and Prudence encountered Amanda Leverton, who eagerly accepted an invitation to accompany them home for tea.
“I wish to thank you for your kind note of congratulations,” Nessa told her as they arrived back at the Creamcrofts'. Other than that formal little message, she'd heard nothing from Miss Leverton since her betrothal, and had wondered how she and her brother had taken the news.
Amanda's smile did not quite reach her eyes. “I did not wish you to believe Sir Hadley or I might think the less of you, though you did raise his hopes briefly. We realize now, of course, that you and he would not have suited.”
“Of course,” Nessa murmured, hoping her amusement did not show. “I'm pleased that I was not an instrument of pain to Sir Hadley.” She had suspected from the start that his affection was more for her inheritance than her person.
Prudence, meanwhile, had rung for the tea tray and now bade them be seated in the drawing room. Nessa thought her sister looked a bit wary of Miss Leverton, but she was determined that their guest would cause Prudence no distress. That this was Miss Leverton's object soon became apparent.
“Lady Haughton, as your erstwhile advisor, I feel obligated to give you my thoughts on your impending nuptials,” she announced as she took her chair.
Nessa shot a reassuring smile Prudence's way before replying. “I am all eagerness to hear them, of course.”
“You will both forgive me, I know, for speaking frankly,” she informed them. “Word of Lord Foxhaven's deplorable reputation must surely have come to your ears by now, so that will be no news. I hope to advise you on how to achieve the maximum happiness that can reasonably be expected in marriage to such a one as he.”
Nessa considered telling the presumptuous wretch to leave, but knew that would embarrass Prudence more than anything this woman might have to say. So she smiled instead, with dangerous sweetness. “How very generous of you to concern yourself so with my happiness.”
“Just so.” Oblivious as ever, Amanda's smile held more than a hint of self-satisfaction. “My dear Lady Haughton, however great the temptation, you must never attempt to compete with your husband's various paramours. No, nor even acknowledge that you are aware of their existence. Determined ignorance can be a wife's best friend in such circumstances.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Nessa saw Prudence's fan fluttering at a great pace, but she faced her adversary without flinching. “I can certainly see how such advice would benefit yourself, were you in my situation, and therefore I thank you kindly for it. I have noted, however, that many wives who follow your recommended course of action seem far from content in their marriages. You will forgive me then, I know, if I choose my own path in this matter. I have, after all, been married before.”
Miss Leverton appeared momentarily speechless at this startling evidence that Nessa had a mind of her own. Prudence, much to Nessa's surprise, filled the silence.
“Of course my sister must do as she thinks best. I cannot help but find your counsel on such a matter ill advised, Miss Leverton, as well as impertinent. Whether you are motivated by jealousy or disappointment on your brother's behalf, I'm afraid I cannot allow you to speak so beneath my roof.”
Amanda rose hastily, her face flaming. “I beg your pardon, indeed, Lady Creamcroft. I have just remembered an engagement elsewhere.”
“You'd best hurry, then,” replied Prudence, her tone as bland as her expression. Amanda Leverton hastened from the room.
When the front door was heard to close behind her, Nessa began to chuckle. “Oh, well done, Prudence! And to think I restrained myself from throwing her out to spare your sensibilities.”
A small smile hovered at the corners of Prudence's lips, quickly suppressed. “'Twas not your place to do so, as this is my home. Her behavior was inexcusable, however, so I had no such compunction. Impudent upstart! I hope you will not allow her words to carry any weight with you, Nessa, and I apologize for ever suggesting that her advice might be of help to you.”
Inordinately pleased to discover that her sister had such backbone, at least when her sense of propriety was offended, Nessa gave her a quick hug. “I know you meant it for the best, Prudence. Let us say no more ab
out it. And now, what say you to a few hands of piquet before we dress for dinner?”
TWELVE
IT WAS A BLUSTERY day in early December. Cloud-shadows scudded across gently rolling fields as the carriage carried Nessa southeastward—to the next stage of her life. Kent's reputation as “the garden of England” was scarcely apparent at this season, though it did seem a kinder landscape than Worcestershire, where she'd grown up.
“We must be nearly there,” commented Prudence, sitting across from her. “How fortunate for Lord Foxhaven to have his estates such a comfortable distance from London.”
Nessa had to agree. Even if Jack did leave her here alone, contrary to his promise, she'd feel far less isolated than she had in Warwickshire, knowing that London was but a few hours away.
The carriage slowed, then turned down a smooth drive between two imposing stone gateposts. Peering ahead, Nessa caught her breath. A single shaft of sunlight escaped from the hurrying clouds to illuminate the loveliest edifice she had ever seen. Situated on a slight rise, lovingly sculpted of mellow, rose-hued stone, Fox Manor dominated the surrounding landscape like a benign matriarch smiling upon her extended family.
A little village nestled cozily in a dell half a mile away, stone walls and thatched roofs gleaming cleanly in the brief sunshine. Even the cows in a nearby byre yard looked happy and wholesome. What a contrast to Haughton Abbey or Cherry Oaks, with walls and villages both grimed by the continual smoke from nearby chimney stacks.
Clouds covered the sun again, but that first impression kept Nessa's spirits from reflecting the comparative bleakness of the now-dull December day. Surely that sunbeam on her first glimpse of her new home was a hopeful omen?
“Why, what a lovely house and park!” Prudence exclaimed.
“I perceive Inigo Jones' influence in the design,” agreed Philip, pointing out the subdued classical touches ornamenting the three storied house with its square towers at each corner.
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