Lady of Sin

by Madeline Hunter

  Voices greeted him. A visitor had come. Jacobs stood in the reception hall, trying to block the advance of a tall man with steely hair and eyes.

  “Father,” Nathaniel said, interrupting the earl’s intimidating orders. “You choose the oddest times to visit.”

  “I need to talk to you. It is difficult to find you these days. You are rarely here, or even in town.”

  It appeared that dinner would have to wait. Nathaniel led the way into the sitting room. “If you had written, I would have arranged to be available.”

  Norriston snorted. “At your convenience, no doubt.”

  “No, at yours.” It would not have been the truth a month ago, but it was now. Nathaniel realized he did not mind this intrusion as much as he normally would.

  “Brandy? Sherry?” he asked. “Have you come to offer another living?”

  “I have come to talk about the affair you are having with Lady Mardenford.”

  His father had not taken him aback in many years, but this calm statement did. “As a gentleman, I cannot respond to that bald accusation.”

  His father sank into the chair that Nathaniel normally used. “As a gentleman, I cannot make it. I speak as a father to a son, however.”

  Nathaniel brought another chair nearby and sat. He could refuse this conversation. He could lie. He realized that he did not want to do either. “And here I thought we had been discreet.”

  “I am sure you were. I wouldn’t know. I do not pay attention to the gossip on these matters. I am aware of this affair because Mardenford spoke to me. He is distraught that you compromise her reputation, and forced him to take steps.”

  “The steps he took were unnecessary, and cruel to his own child. He is very distraught, I am sure, but not for her reputation. He will be more so when you report that I have proposed to her.”

  Norriston’s attention snapped alert. “Has she accepted?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Is there a chance?”

  “I am hopeful.”

  His father absorbed that. “It would be a good match. Not bad at all.”

  “I think so.”

  “Of course, her family—well, some odd doings there. I hear her sister recently married that solicitor. I admit to less shock than some others profess. Never liked Penelope’s first husband myself. I always thought there was something unhealthy about the man. But Laclere’s wife, well . . . and everyone knows that fortune is from trade, all of it, Laclere’s now too—but Lady M. seems to have turned out fine and upright. Handsome woman too . . .”

  Nathaniel let his father meander through the details. He guessed where the twisting path was going.

  “I should warn you that she will not aid you in turning me into a bishop.”

  Norriston raised his eyebrows, then sighed. “Too bad. Willful woman, from what I’ve seen. She would have been a useful ally.” He shrugged. “If she will tolerate your ill-chosen employment, I can reconcile myself to it, I suppose.”

  The capitulation was so unexpected that Nathaniel grew suspicious. “If I had known a good match would sway you, I would have looked for a second prospect with more tenacity.”

  His father’s face fell at the allusion to the first match that Nathaniel had planned. “She did not know what she was getting in you, that girl. Nor you in her. She did not know about your stubbornness, and your belief in truth and principle. Did you want her harping your whole life, once she learned what was yours for the taking?”

  They had never spoken of his father’s motivations in arranging that fateful visit where his intended learned what he could have with one word. The episode had created the final distance between them, and froze an already chilly relationship. Now the ice was melting rapidly in this sitting room with neither of them planning or expecting it.

  Broaching that sorry episode, explaining the reasons, altered the air in the chamber. It stilled as if time waited for something to happen. For an argument to ensue. Or for a response that would move them closer to some common ground.

  They were not so different, Nathaniel realized. Perhaps too much alike. Nor was his father a fool. He was an intelligent man whose judgment had clashed with his son’s, that was all.

  Nathaniel never expected to sympathize with his father’s view, but he suddenly did. He understood the need to protect one’s own now, and the desire to control the history they would live.

  “I regret that my choices disappointed you,” he found himself saying. “I do not regret the choices themselves, but . . .”

  “They did not disappoint me. They annoyed the hell out of me. There is a difference.”

  Nathaniel laughed and his father did too. It had been years since they laughed together. No, not years. Forever.

  “See here, Nat, I had visions for you. Canterbury eventually, I was sure. I do not like the notoriety of your defenses, that is true. It is unseemly for you to be in the Old Bailey. I understand that you do not do it for pride or fame, however. I know why you do it, and the sentiment does not disappoint me. You are a man of honor and seeker of truth, and that is why I thought you would make a good bishop.”

  Nathaniel rose and paced away. His father’s words moved him. He did not know what to do with the unfamiliar emotion. He gazed into the dark beyond the window and waited for the intimacy to pass, for the distance to return.

  It didn’t. In speaking man-to-man, they had become father and son again.

  “I am learning that sometimes principle is a chain. I am discovering that learning the truth can be destructive,” he said.

  Silence claimed the chamber after he spoke. He sensed his father watching him.

  “What is it, boy?”

  “I cannot tell you. If you ever learn of it, it will be along with the entire world.”

  Another stillness. Nathaniel turned to see his father pondering this cryptic statement, choosing the words of advice that were the first allowed in both their memories.

  “There are some truths better kept from the world. I know that sounds dodgy—”

  “No, not dodgy.”

  “Is it better known or not? That is the question. And if not, can right still be done? Not easy to decide.”

  No, not easy to decide.

  “I have not helped you much.” His father looked more resigned than disappointed.

  “You have helped me greatly. Mardenford would be surprised to know how much.”

  A dismissive wave of the hand greeted that. “He expected me to rave with shock about this affair, no doubt. He probably thought I would threaten your allowance. Little, purse-lipped squirrel.”

  Not a squirrel, but a close relative. A rat.

  Norriston got to his feet. “You are dressed for dinner, and I am delaying you. My reaction to the squirrel’s revelation was not what he thinks it was. I have long admired Lady Mardenford, and think she would suit you well. She has spirit and a sharp mind. I came to let you know that should you marry the lady, I will release the estate. I can’t have you going to her almost penniless. That is too dramatic for me.”

  “You are being very generous. And if the lady refuses me?”

  Norriston grinned. “I suggest you see that she does not.”

  “Bianca spoke with Ambrose’s nurse in the park,” Charlotte said as she undressed. “She plans to charm the young woman into letting me see him someday. The nurse said that James never visits with his son now. He spends no time with Ambrose at all.”

  “He never spent time with his son, darling. He spent time with you. Ambrose was just his excuse.”

  Nathaniel was probably right, and that made her sad. It was another reason to use subterfuge if necessary to see the child. She and Bianca had spent the afternoon concocting plans to do it. With James so indifferent to his son now, there had to be a way.

  She cast her hose aside and approached the tub. Nathaniel already soaked there, reclining like a river god. He filled it, but there would still be room for her. Just enough to snuggle in his embrace.

  He wa
tched as she strolled toward him. His gaze scorched. A hundred tiny fires ignited in her body. Her love flamed too, the way it always did now when she saw the passion in his eyes.

  “You have the most accommodating servants,” he said as he reached up to help her step in. His hands guided her down so that she lay on top of him, her crown on his shoulder and her back along his length. He made room for her legs between his bent knees.

  “My sister trained them well.”

  A toasty fire kept them warm in the tub. The house was not very large and had no grand dressing room. This little ritual had to occur in her own bedroom.

  She had called for the bath when she saw Nathaniel’s state upon arriving for dinner. He was very distracted tonight. Coiled tightly with that energy wanting to burst out. She could not decide if she preferred that to the thoughtfulness that he had carried to their previous meetings. The deep contemplation would fall away in her presence, but this pending vitality only seemed to grow as the dinner tonight progressed.

  It encompassed her now, as surely as his arms crossed over her breasts. He reached for a sponge and began stroking her body with it, both cleansing and arousing.

  “My father called on me tonight, before I came here.”

  “Is that the reason for your mood? Did you have an invigorating argument?”

  “No argument. There was a rapprochement of sorts. A beginning.”

  She turned her head and gazed up at his face, so close to hers. “You did not give in to him, did you? I do not care about that estate, Nathaniel. It will make no difference to me—you must know that. If I have not accepted your proposal yet, it has not been because of your fortune.”

  The sponge rose and deliberately circled her breasts with wet, soft caresses. “Then what is the reason?”

  She had not expected this conversation now. She had been weighing much since their return from Hertfordshire, including his proposal. She had been waiting to choose the time and place to discuss it all. It appeared he had concluded this night in the bath was the appropriate one.

  “Did you agree to do as he wants, Nathaniel?

  “No.”

  No compromise. Of course not.

  His hand lifted one of her legs so her foot was propped on the side of the tub. With his long arm he could reach most of its length with the sponge. Little waterfalls trickled down as he stroked its length, all the way up. Her vulva flexed as the sensation neared.

  The warm water, his embrace, the languorous caresses lulled her into a luxurious relaxation and purring sensuality.

  He kissed her neck, then her ear. “Why have you not yet decided on my proposal, darling?”

  She felt his erection against her bottom. She shifted so it rose between her thighs.

  “Is it because of him, Charl? Do you still need time to explain our passion to the memories?”

  “It is not that.”

  “Then what?”

  She reached down and slid her fingertips up the length of his shaft. A tightening in his chest at her back, in his lap beneath her, spoke of her effect. “I have sensed a decision in you these last days. I thought to wait until you had made it.”

  He dropped the sponge and used his hands. Soaped and slick, they began moving over her with the deliberate, possessive caresses that she loved. The way he handled her said so much about him, and reflected the reasons she was helpless to this passion.

  He nuzzled her ear and neck, his breath producing wonderful warm shivers. “You are right. I carried a decision in me. It is made, however.”

  That was the reason for this new mood, this contained energy. He said nothing more. He did not explain what the decision had been.

  “You are very sure that you are done with your contemplations, Nathaniel?”

  “Done and resolved.”

  “Then I accept your proposal. I will marry you.”

  His hands paused. They remained bound in stillness for a long moment. Then he turned her, gently but quickly. Water splashed over the edges as her body made little waves.

  His arm held her to him as he looked in her eyes. “You do not care what decision I have made, or even on what question?”

  “I care. It was not the choice that I waited to hear, however, merely that you had resolved it.”

  “Do you know what the decision concerned? It would be like you to guess.”

  “I know it does not involve me directly because you have said it does not. I suspect, however, that it touches on my life both past and present.”

  He moved her again so that she straddled his lap and faced him. He cupped her face with his hands. “You have stolen my heart, Charlotte. Knowing your answer to my proposal would not have affected me, and withholding it did not lessen my considerations of you. My love for you was influence enough.”

  His declaration both saddened her and made her heart swell with exquisite sweetness. “Was the influence a bad one?” she whispered.

  “How could it be bad? Our love does not diminish me or my honor, Charl. It does not obscure the right path, but illuminates it.”

  He spoke so honestly that she did not doubt he was correct. In her small way she had been trying to protect him. She had not wanted obligations to her to interfere, to lure him to rationalize a wrong judgment. She had never considered that their love would help him to make a right one.

  “What are you going to do, Nathaniel?”

  His embrace lifted her so that his tongue could caress her nipples. They had become tight and sensitive from water and warmth and his seductive washing. The sensations made her tremble so much, she thought the water would make waves.

  “Right now I am going to make love to my fiancée,” he said. “Then, tomorrow, I am going to return Finley’s ghost to its grave.”

  She wondered what that meant for a brief moment. Then the sensuality submerged all thoughts of tomorrow. His mouth teased her breasts until she rocked and cried. He held her firmly, his hands cupping her bottom, and she steadied herself by holding his shoulders.

  It was too much. Too intense. Desire maddened her. Nathaniel’s arm braced her back for support, and his free hand slid between her thighs. Slowly, confidently, he touched and caressed spots of unbearable sensitivity. Shudders of pleasure left her boneless, helpless.

  Blind now, awareness blurred to everything but the desperate need consuming her, she saw nothing as he flipped her. Then she was kneeling in the bath, the water licking at her breasts. His body hovered over hers, and his arms flanked her own. The position both protected and dominated.

  He filled her totally, touching her womb, titillating soft flesh with the best irritation. She met his thrusts with her own. The rhythm of give and take began deliciously slow but escalated as she sought to feel him more. Hardness entered the passion as they soared in mutual ecstasy.

  She dipped her shoulders to accept him deeper, to take him into herself as thoroughly as possible. Water soothed her cheek and sloshed around their heat.

  A gentle quake of pleasure trembled where they joined. She surrendered to its power as he made it intensify. The quakes continued on and on, rippling with a perfection she savored, until the ultimate pleasure broke with intense, beautiful waves.

  Nathaniel normally left before dawn, for both discretion and practicality. He had business affairs to conduct, after all. He did not live only to attend on her.

  He did not leave this time. He remained in her bed long after the sun rose. She watched him sleep, his dark lashes feathering his skin and his golden hair mussed on the pillow.

  Perhaps he had stayed to celebrate their engagement. Then again, maybe he slept so soundly that he did not realize the hour. It had been a long night of love, after all.

  She sat up on crossed legs and just watched him. He had asked if she still negotiated with the past. She would explain to him soon that she honored that past but she lived in the present now, thoroughly. For one thing, she was very sure that Philip would understand this passion. It helped to know that he had not been cheated, an
d that their quieter melody had been as much his choice as hers.

  One of her little reveries claimed her, briefly but intensely, as his presence echoed in her heart. She expected that would keep happening on occasion. It was right that it should. He had been her husband, and they had shared a love.

  He had been a good husband too. He had also been a good man who had once tried to protect another woman he loved. She was glad for that. Glad he had been heroic, as best he knew how. It pleased her that for a brief few weeks he had not been so staid.

  She gazed at her lover, sprawled on her bed, his muscular limbs firm even in repose. The idea of a life with him thrilled her. The emotion was very similar to fear, just more joyful and optimistic and eager for the mysteries to be explored.

  His eyes opened. They stayed unaware for a moment, then he glanced to the window and to the clock. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. “Past ten o’clock. I hope the servants will not be shocked.”

  “I believe they are used to it. There was a thick oilcloth beneath the towels surrounding the tub, so I think there is little they do not expect, and even anticipate.”

  He left the bed and walked to a window, indifferent to his nakedness. He parted the drapes and examined the day while she examined him.

  “The weather is fair. Let us take breakfast out in the garden,” he said.

  They dressed and went down. They sat on two iron garden chairs near a little table, and basked in the sunlight until a simple breakfast arrived. They did not speak much as they ate, but the silence was pleasant. He had never needed words to know everything about her.

  Nor had she needed words to comprehend him. Right now she comprehended that he was waiting for something. The energy had never left him, not even in the exhaustion after passion. Here in the garden’s silence it intensified as if the sunlight stimulated it.

  A footman came into the garden, salver in hand. Nathaniel’s lids lowered over glowing eyes.

  She picked up the card and shot him a glance of surprise.

  “Receive him,” Nathaniel said.