“And really, Dr. Ramsay, it’s all right. You’re just a doctor and I’m supposed to marry a duke or something.”
Just a doctor. The words hurt even though he knew they weren’t intended to. “What about an earl?”
“I think I can marry one of those too. Aren’t they all old?”
“Earls?”
“Men with titles.”
“I suspect your parents want you to marry an heir to a title. They’re not always old.” He leaned in just a bit. “Some are even handsome.”
She glanced up at him, then quickly looked away, her cheeks rosy.
Her artless modesty was beguiling—and thrilling. The excitement deep down flared, warming him all over, a heat intensified with the afternoon sun. Never had such innocence aroused him, her arm in his, their perfect ambling rhythm, her subtly seductive scent—
“What sort of doctor are you?” she said at last, changing the subject.
“Family doctor. At least, I’m in training to be one.”
“Like for children?”
“Yes, mothers, children, that sort of thing.”
“Did you have to study a long time to do that?”
“Well, I have been studying a long time, but I’ve only just secured practical work in a medical office.”
“Why did you want to become a doctor?” she asked with sincere interest.
He thought a moment. “I wanted to help people, to heal them.” A memory of his mother flashed in his mind, distracting him for a moment before the delicate weight of Miss Phillips’ hand on his arm brought him back to his rather enchanting present. “And I like science, I suppose.”
“I like science too,” she said with giddy energy.
Nicholas stopped and turned to her, seeing for himself the enthusiasm in her eyes. “You do?” It was simply too much to ask.
“Oh yes. I’ve just read On the Origin of Species,” she said proudly, then quickly lowered her voice. “Although Mama says I’m not to tell anyone that.”
“You read Charles Darwin?” He had to dampen his incredulity so as not to appear impolite. He resumed their stroll as if he met debutantes who read scientific treatises every day.
“Oh yes! I found it ever so fascinating.” She bit her lip, a charming little quirk that seemed to indicate girlish mischievousness. “Those are the sorts of books I usually read, Dr. Ramsay.”
Nicholas laughed. “And what compelled you to read Mr. Darwin?”
“Papa bought a very fine copy for his library and he recommended it. He knows I’m interested in the natural world and we were discussing why some of the plants he sees on his travels are so different from what we have here.” Her eyes twinkled at him. “I even know the Latin names.”
“You know Latin?” This was too good to be true.
“No, not really. Just for plant names and such. I just studied by myself a little. Nothing formal in school.”
Good God. She was inspired enough to learn Latin on her own? Nicholas broke out in a grin.
She giggled, at what he did not know, but it was a lovely sound, a sound that was music to his ears. She giggled again, then blushed and bit her lower lip. A very plump and enticing lower lip.
“What’s so funny?” he asked.
“Speaking of Mr. Darwin,” she said quietly, “I think we’ve witnessed a bit of natural selection today.”
“Because the Roxton twins have only demonstrated they are quite unfit for the marriage mart?”
That made her giggle more, sending a thrilling quiver from her body to his. He wished she would clutch at him more tightly again and lean into him. But alas, she kept her proper place.
His heart clenched when he realized they had almost reached their destination of Lady Banbury’s lounging form, the landmark indicating a probable end to their conversation.
He could have sworn he felt her slow their pace at the sight of the good lady as well.
“Whom did you say you arrived with today?” Miss Phillips blurted.
“A very dear friend of mine.”
“Oh?” Her eyes widened. “She’s your lover, isn’t she?”
Every nerve in Nicholas’ body fired at the sound of her voice saying that word—lover. What could he say? The lovely Miss Phillips had indicated she preferred honesty in men. “Yes,” he admitted softly.
She stared at him, not in shock as he had imagined, but instead with awe and fascination. “She’s the woman you were with the night of the Wrexham ball.”
How could she have possibly known that? Of course he had noticed her across the ballroom floor…
“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”
“Very,” he blurted. He thought he was getting back at her for the snub of his professional status, but suddenly felt rather loathsome for it.
“Is she married?” she asked clandestinely.
Concern for his reputation, perhaps? Nicholas chuckled. “She’s widowed.”
“Then it’s allowed, isn’t it?”
Ah, a young woman’s curiosity! So very charming. “Us being lovers, you mean? I think it would be allowed if she were married and her husband didn’t care much.”
“But would you do such a thing?” she probed.
An unusual query that he really had never given much thought to. “No, Miss Phillips, I think I would not. I prefer an affair to have an air of exclusivity.”
She seemed to sigh at that, and slowed her pace to a crawl. “Do you love her?”
It was an innocent question, yet tinged with a sense of urgency. As if Miss Phillips cared about what he felt. His heart jumped. He could only hope as much.
“I like and admire and respect her a great deal. But I am not in love with her. My heart is free.”
It was the first time he had confessed that to anyone. She looked up at him, her face glowing with the excitement of possibility, her luscious lips curling into a delicate smile. For a second he wished the world away so he could have the lovely Miss Helena Phillips all to himself.
“Helena! Where are you, my girl?” came Lady Banbury’s barking cry beyond them.
“I must go,” Miss Phillips said with a hint of regret.
“Until next time,” Nicholas responded gently.
She livened at that, perhaps imagining there was to be a next time, and turned to attend her chaperon with what Nicholas perceived as a skip in her step.
Chapter Six
Sophia knew why she was standing on the doorstep of Dr. Christopher’s office at one in the morning, she just couldn’t believe she had worked up the courage to do such a scandalous and wanton act.
The pretty servant girl who let her in flashed her a censorious expression as she led her into the wide hall between the two offices. It was as if the girl knew why she had come.
Abashed, Sophia suddenly questioned both her motives and actions.
Yet when Dr. Julius Christopher stood before her wrapped in his dressing gown, his hair disheveled but raked into place by his fingers, his lids still heavy from sleep, she knew why she had come. His unaffected sensuality devastated her senses.
“Mrs. Phillips, are you unwell? What is the matter?” He led her into his office and motioned for her to sit.
But she could not sit. She felt both trepidation and exhilaration. She looked nervously around the room. It was a different office from the one she had been in during the day, filled with odd machinery.
“Do you use these devices on women, Doctor?”
“Mrs. Phillips, I hardly think you came to my office to discuss my equipment.”
“No,” she said bashfully. She would simply have to say what she needed to say plainly. She looked at him. Lighted by the soft glow of an oil lamp, he was devilishly handsome. The thought that he had just come from his bed was terrifically erotic.
“Doctor, I came to you suffering from a malaise I know all too well. I also know how to take care of myself when I fall into these slumps of mine. You see, I frequently have this problem when my husband goes abroad, and I have alway
s been able to handle my affliction. That is, until now.”
He stiffened slightly, his breathing quickened.
She inhaled deeply. “When I was here last, you said you weren’t sure what you could do for me. But now, Doctor, I think I know.”
Dr. Christopher was thoroughly awake now. “Go on.” He glanced briefly at one of the machines before returning his attention to her.
“When I pleasure myself with my hand to release my frustrations, I often think of my husband. Lately, though, I’ve been thinking of you.”
His lips parted in surprise.
“I cannot get you out of my mind, Dr. Christopher. And I realize you have the power to fully relieve me of my frustrations.”
His now-labored respiration resonated in the quiet dark office. “Mrs. Phillips,” he remarked softly, “you are a married woman.”
“And if I were not, would you be willing?”
He looked away briefly and drew in a long breath. “I would be more than willing,” he said hoarsely.
Her heart leapt. “Please, Doctor, let me explain. My husband and I have an agreement, a somewhat modern arrangement. We are, the two of us, very passionate people. We both have our needs. He’s gone so much during the year that I’ve given him leave to visit a handful of his regular women. However, in all our years of marriage, I’ve rarely bothered to take the opportunity myself.” She looked Julius directly in the eye. “But now I’m plagued by thoughts of you.”
He stood still, frozen in place but tautly pulled, ready to spring. “Sophia,” he said hoarsely, “I also am plagued by thoughts of you.”
She stepped forward until she was inches from him. Julius did not move. She untied his robe and slid it open to find him nude on top, his torso unexpectedly honed like an athlete’s, the wondrously masculine contours covered in fine black hair flecked with gray. She took his hands in hers, glancing down briefly to see the shadow of his erection discernible through his loose pajama trousers.
She leaned in and kissed him tentatively.
He swiftly enveloped her in his arms, clutching her to him fiercely, his insistent mouth covering hers, feasting on her desires like a starving man. She wrapped her arms around his body under the robe, the heated flesh and finely sculpted musculature flexing in need under her hands, a need so powerful it bordered on desperation.
“Julius,” she said as he trailed kisses down her neck, “I’ve put a pessary in.”
He stopped and stared at her in incredulous joy.
“I’d like you to spend inside me. I want you to have your full pleasure too.”
He lost no time. “Come, let us go upstairs.”
* * * * *
His fingers had trembled as he had unhooked her corset. His hands had felt clammy when he had rolled down her stockings. But now that she lay naked beside him in his bed, Julius felt only wonder and euphoria. His confidence had returned.
It had been a long time since he had been with a proper woman. Too long, really. And what a treat Sophia Phillips was. She was so utterly responsive, every inch of her flesh sensitive to his touch, every lick and nip eliciting an urgent cry for more. When he had massaged her clitoris, he had watched her orgiastic release with glee, reminding himself that it was the right reason for the act.
And then he had entered her throbbing, wet channel, relief coloring both their faces, groans of satisfaction escaping from both their throats. She had matched his every movement with her own, urging him onward to his release, as if she needed his culmination more than he did. Yet with every clench, she proved she was in great need herself, her need an insatiable craving that bordered on an obsessive wantonness.
“Faster,” she had begged. “Harder.”
And he had obliged, slamming into her like a younger man would, her body gripping him as though she did not want to let him go.
And then he came, his release accompanied by a howl of contentment, filling her with more than just his emission, but his desire, his satisfaction.
When they were both spent, he held her, not wanting to let her go, only for a second remembering she belonged to another man.
She stirred beside him, then stretched, pressing her belly against his abdomen. “Can you not sleep? It must be two or three in the morning. Surely you have patients tomorrow?”
He kissed her hair. “I do,” he acknowledged.
The thought of his patients, of his work, spurred an idea. “Sophia, darling, I would like to show you a new device I have just purchased. A machine. I think you would be most impressed. It will produce a pleasurable feeling like no other you have ever experienced.”
She propped herself up on her elbows. “Really?” she said with intense interest, her fingers dallying in the hair on his chest.
“Yes.” He grinned. “Come, I’ll lend you a robe. Let’s go downstairs to my office.”
Chapter Seven
Lavinia threaded her way through the crowd in Lord and Lady Shotwick’s ballroom as quickly as she could. Luckily for her, Nicholas was exactly where she had left him, standing next to a fan palm, holding a glass of champagne nicked from the refreshment room and looking quite dull indeed.
“Nicky, dear,” she chimed excitedly. “I’ve filled out your dance card for you.” She waved it in front of him.
“My dance card?” He grabbed it and began reading the names as he gulped his drink.
“Don’t worry, darling,” she assured him, whisking the empty glass from his hand and hiding it in the palm. “They are each one of them hand-picked by me. Delightful girls. All over the ripe old age of twenty. All very pretty.”
Nicholas looked overwhelmed. “Thank you, Lavinia. I think.”
“The dancing is about to start, dear, so I best get you introduced to your first partner, Miss Prudence Waltham. She likes butterflies, so you’ll have ever so much to talk about.”
“Christ,” he muttered. “I don’t think I remember how to dance a quadrille.”
Lavinia looked at the card. “Why, that’s not for ages yet. Come now, be a good boy.”
They almost crashed into Lady Banbury leading Helena Phillips toward the dance floor.
“Charlotte! I had been wondering where you might be tonight.”
“Running around like a shepherd’s dog trying to get Helena a chance to dance with England’s finest.” The countess did seem a bit out of breath. “Mrs. Phillips put me in charge of her daughter, you see.”
Lavinia glanced behind Charlotte to see Sophia Phillips talking very gaily with Julius Christopher. But more surprising was that the usually reserved doctor was drinking in the woman’s every word, gazing at her like a man smitten. “Yes, I see.” She then turned to smile at Charlotte’s companion.
“So this is Miss Helena Phillips.” Lavinia nodded to the girl, who was flushed from running about or possibly from the sudden attention. She was dressed in a most eye-catching gown of reddish-purple silk with an enticingly low square-cut neckline presenting her bosom above the form-hugging bodice. She was absolutely ravishing. Certainly every man in the room had noticed—and probably desired—her already.
“Why, my dear Lavinia, I hadn’t realized you two hadn’t met! Helena, this is my good friend Lady Foxley-Graham.”
As Helena curtsied, Lavinia noticed she flashed a glance at Nicholas, then blushed more deeply.
“I know your mother from years past, Miss Phillips. Why have we not enjoyed your presence before?”
“I’ve been away at school in France, my lady.” Helena gazed up at Lavinia with admiration in her green eyes.
Now it was Lavinia’s turn to blush at the unexpected attention. “Yes, of course. I had forgotten,” she said gently to her new admirer.
Helena glanced at Nicholas again. “Dr. Ramsay,” she said with a curtsy.
“Miss Phillips,” Nicholas murmured reverently, obviously trying desperately not to stare.
“Oh how discourteous of me!” Lavinia exclaimed. “But you two already know each other?”
“We met at
the Roxton musicale, Lady Foxley-Graham,” Helena remarked sweetly.
“After you had left,” explained Nicholas.
“Ah, yes,” Lavinia remembered. It was a most unfortunate event.
“And what a success it was! One of the Roxton twins is already engaged,” divulged Lady Banbury.
“Looks like Mr. Darwin was wrong,” Nicholas mumbled.
Helena giggled, then raised her hand to her mouth in mortification.
They’re already sharing private jokes? Lavinia was surprised that a friendship had blossomed from only one encounter. But Nicholas had found the girl quite beautiful the other night. From the look on Helena’s face, it appeared she was more than just a trifle enamored of him as well. Her expression bordered on yearning, then swiftly changed to crestfallen when the orchestra struck up.
“Oh the music has just started. Nicholas, Miss Waltham awaits. And I’m sure Miss Phillips is eager to dance with her own partner.”
“Yes, yes, of course.” Nicholas gave a gentlemanly bow to the countess and her charge before they dived into the crush of the ballroom.
Lavinia pulled her lover close. “Nicky, if you continue with your life the way it is, you cannot have her,” she cautioned under her breath. “You must stop thinking of Miss Phillips. Look, she’s paired with Lord Acton of Northbridge. He’s heir to the Dukedom of Cleveland. I am sorry, love. Concentrate on the charms of each of your partners. You’ll find somebody. Trust me.”
Nicholas sighed morosely. “Take me to Miss Waltham, then.”
As they joined in the fray, Lavinia saw the most astonishing sight. Dr. Julius Christopher was dancing with Mrs. Phillips and looking as if he actually enjoyed it.
* * * * *
It turned out Nicholas did remember how to dance the quadrille. And if he made a misstep, Miss Penelope Hardcastle very generously covered his blunders.
Miss Hardcastle was really quite lovely, as Lavinia had said she would be. His partners at the Shotwick ball were all of them quite lovely. The problem was that he simply could not see spending a lifetime with any one of them. And he certainly did not want a middle-class marriage of convenience, where a wife was no more than a housekeeper, a man the breadwinner. Nicholas wanted a modern marriage, based on love, one where he and his wife could converse intelligently when he returned home from the office, then spend the rest of the evening in energetic pursuits in the bedroom.
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