The Other Side

by J. D. Robb

  Ten

  “I wished you would trust me.” Harry nodded. “Oddly enough, it is what I want above all things.”

  “Oh, Harry, of course I trust you.” Had she not learned tonight that his fidelity was true and fast? She trusted him. It must not have been the right phrasing though, because the coin dulled. Bettina stared at it, willing cooperation. Nothing happened.

  “And another thing I learned later tonight,” Harry began. Bettina had the feeling he was trying to distract her from their mutual disappointment. He faced her, and Bettina looked into his eyes. “Do you, darling wife, have any idea how men look at you?”

  “Look at me?”

  “They want you. Every man who looks at you wants what I have. A loving, loyal wife.”

  “Nonsense. If they would practice a little love and loyalty themselves, every one of them would have the same from their wives. They want sex with me. They want my body and nothing more.”

  “Bettina! How can you be so cynical?”

  “I spent the evening listening to your chums tell tasteless jokes and bet who would be Patricia Melton’s next lover.”

  “What are the odds that it’s the Regent?”

  “Harry!” Bettina moved away from him a little. “I would not tell you if I knew.” And she would never tell her husband that the male consensus was that the Earl of Fellsborough was Mrs. Melton’s personal preference. “I will tell you this. I am forever cured of wanting to drink brandy and remain at table. I will go with the ladies happily.”

  They both looked at the coin, which seemed to have no opinion on the subject.

  “I think we should go to bed. It’s late and obvious that nothing is going to happen tonight.”

  Bettina nodded agreement and watched while Harry locked the coin in the jewel chest once again.

  “Bettina, you left the key in the lock. It is not a wise habit to cultivate.”

  “Oh, Harry, we never left the room. Besides, I almost always remember to lock it and hide the key.” Bettina shrugged off the criticism. She went to the connecting door and realized that Harry was following her.

  “Let’s sleep together in the big bed tonight,” Harry suggested. “The way we did when we were first married.”

  “Oh, yes,” Bettina said on a sigh. She closed the connecting door then stared at it for a moment, wondering if sleeping together in their current states was a wise idea. She didn’t care. More than anything, she wanted the comfort of being close.

  “Harry, I’ll help you undress.” Like we did when we were first married and so in love. Tears filled her eyes, and she fumbled with the buttons.

  “Now you know why it took me so long to undo the buttons. A man’s hands are not made for such delicate work.”

  He’d misunderstood her clumsiness, and Bettina did her best to hide the tears. When she reached the new shoes, she eased them off, lifted a foot, and began to massage the reddened toes.

  “God help me,” Harry sighed as he flopped back on the bed, dressed only in a chemise. “Don’t ever stop doing that. It’s almost worth wearing those torturous slippers to feel you work magic like that.”

  Bettina smiled and felt the male part of her respond. To what, she wasn’t sure. To the feel of soft, warm skin. To the body spread on the bed in surrender. To the utter bliss in Harry’s eyes. To the idea of giving with no expectations. Bettina amended that. One expectation was now very much present. Do not speak. Do not say a word. It will destroy the moment.

  Bettina undressed quickly and moved to lie on the bed crosswise but beside Harry, trailing a hand over the chemise, the fine, fine lawn chemise that was a favorite because it hinted at so much.

  Harry lay still with eyes closed, and Bettina reached inside the scooped neck of the chemise and rested a hand on a full round breast.

  She had touched her breasts dozens of times, but with Harry’s hand it felt different. His hands were rougher, and her skin felt as fragile as a rose petal.

  The most masculine part of the body she was in grew hard as a rock. Bettina moved her hand away, ended all contact, and lay back beside Harry, not touching, doing all she could to bring the lust under control.

  “How do you do it?” she gasped.

  Harry turned to look at her and sighed. “I think about something awful. The worst thing you can think of that does not have to do with sex.”

  “Sex is all I can think of. My whole body is begging for release.”

  “Then come to me.” He leaned over her and smiled.

  “No.” Bettina tried to push herself deeper into the down mattress. “It feels as though I would be having sex with myself.”

  “Close your eyes and don’t think. I find that amazingly easy to do at a time like this.”

  “I can’t stop thinking. Besides, all I wanted was to know how you feel and now—I—do.” She parsed out the last three words with effort.

  With a speed that was totally unexpected, Harry moved over her and with one deft movement guided the erection into place inside the hot wet sheath of her body. Bettina closed her eyes and tried, really tried, to control the release, but it was impossible. The pleasure pulsed from her, concentrated in the core of her male body with an intensity unlike her female experience of sex. Not better, just very different.

  “That was so fast,” Harry said as Bettina rolled away from him and buried her head in her hands, embarrassed and relieved at the same time. “And it didn’t hurt at all.”

  “Of course it doesn’t hurt.” She raised her head and leaned on her hand. “Have I ever said that it hurt?”

  “No, but I thought after Cameron was born it would be different. Your body was used so brutally in the birth process I thought you would never welcome my advances again.”

  “Oh, Harry, is that the reason your lovemaking has become so tentative? Not because you are merely doing your duty?”

  “Of course. I never make love to you out of duty. I want you more than I want water,” Harry answered.

  “Oh, Harry, I love you. Trust comes in so many different guises. I can see why the coin was not content with my simple statement. Harry, believe me, when it comes to our love life here together in bed, I trust you completely and can never have enough.”

  Bettina felt the male member leap to attention at thought of more sex. Harry noticed and laughed.

  “Is it always like this? So easy?” Bettina asked.

  “Almost always. Don’t you remember the time we did not leave the bed for near twenty hours?”

  “Oh, yes. I think that was the night, and day, Cameron was conceived. How do men ever learn control?”

  “From a very young age and not without some embarrassing incidents.”

  “Harry,” she began in a pensive voice. “Do you think that is why men hold their feelings so close? They have learned a physical control that women have no need for?”

  “Possibly,” Harry said with that vagueness that made it clear his mind was on something else. “In fact, Bettina, I can feel that the female body is much more circumspect. But I can tell that I want you as much as I do when I am fully myself.”

  It was an invitation Bettina could not, would not, did not want to ignore. She closed her eyes and proceeded to use her knowledge of her true body to show him that she felt exactly the same way.

  Eleven

  Harry was gone when Bettina awoke, and she could guess why. The body part she seemed to have no control over was ready again. Harry had never once asked for her to come to him in the morning, but she doubted this feeling was a unique occurrence.

  Bettina lay back and waited for the arousal to pass, marveling at the differences between male and female bodies. What luck that they were so compatible in bed. She was even willing to acknowledge to herself that she had a more firm understanding of why some men were not faithful to their wives and why some women looked beyond the marriage bed for pleasure.

  When Roberts came into the bedchamber with coffee, it was as good as a cold bath.

  “Good day to
you, my lord. You have three hours until you must leave for Parliament. The countess asked if you would let her know when you are ready for breakfast as she will join you to discuss your plans for the evening.”

  By the time Bettina reached the dining room, she was a bundle of nerves. Her performance at dinner last night had not been as brilliant as she would have liked, and today she would be faced with far more exacting tradition, traditions that she was not at all familiar with. To take the earl’s seat in Parliament was like Harry taking a daughter to bow before the queen without a lifetime of preparation or personal experience to rely on.

  Harry came into the room looking particularly lovely in a cotton frock washed a pale green with leaves embroidered around the square neck and hem. Bettina felt her manhood give a throb of approval. The constant interest in sex was beginning to annoy her. “Why have I never gone to observe Parliament before? I do not even know where you sit.”

  “It’s my fault,” Harry insisted. “I told you it was the most boring experience in the world. And I assure you it will be.”

  He started off by telling her where to sit, next to Lord Nicholas, and began to recount the other details of what was an everyday exercise for him. “This will be a new experience for me as well, my dear. I plan to be in the gallery observing today. If anything untoward develops, I will send a message asking for you to meet me. It is not precisely common, but no one will be shocked.”

  Harry went over a few more details, but they were not nearly as important as acting as though she belonged. Bettina was about to tell him to stop filling her head with useless detail when the nurse came in with Lord Cameron.

  “I do beg your pardon, my lady. I know you are leaving and somewhat pressed for time and thought it would be easier if I came to you.”

  Bettina cringed. That was the sort of forward behavior that annoyed Harry. The woman should have just sent a footman to request the countess’s presence.

  “Very well. What is it?” Harry spoke curtly, but Martha Stepp did not notice.

  “I do believe Lord Cameron is teething, and I wanted to know what your preferences are for keeping him comfortable.”

  Bettina watched as Harry stared at his boy and then ran a finger over his gums. Cameron stopped crying long enough to bite, and when Harry pulled his finger away, the babe began whimpering again.

  “Is he feverish? Is he ill?” Harry used his browbeating voice.

  “No, my lady.”

  “Then go back to the nursery, and I will come to you shortly. Do not presume so again.”

  “Yes, my lady.” Martha Stepp turned away with the babe and left the room.

  “Harry, if she gives her notice, then you are the one who is going to find a new nurse.”

  “What else could I do, Bettina? I have no idea what to do for a teething baby and need your advice.”

  Bettina forbore to explain he could have spoken in a more kindly tone. “Did you feel any teeth?”

  “Yes, two, I think.”

  “Oh, the poor baby. All right. Be sure to tell Nurse not to use brandy or any liquor to soothe his gums. She should use cracked ice wrapped in muslin. And perhaps a smooth wooden toy for him to bite on.”

  “I understand,” Harry said, nodding.

  “Now I have to leave. I do not want to be too late.” Though in her heart what she really wanted was to hurry after Martha and send her off so mother and son could comfort each other.

  As Harry had predicted, Nick Bright came over the moment the earl passed through the doors. Though Bettina had arrived at almost the last minute, the room was not particularly crowded.

  Lord Osterman held court at his usual table, or the one that Harry had described as his favorite. It reminded Bettina that she needed to talk to Nick about the inadvisability of marrying his sister into Osterman’s family.

  “What say you, Harry! You are here more than a minute before the bell rings. You will ruin the usher’s timing.” Bright handed him a cup of coffee. “How are you this morning? And, tell me, does Bettina have a headache, or is she her usual charming self?”

  “She is feeling so well that she is coming to observe today. She said that dinner made her realize how woefully uninformed she is, and she is taking steps to correct it.”

  Nick raised his eyebrows. “Next she will be advising you on your vote.”

  “I will assume that is your idea of a joke.” Why did men persist in thinking all wives meddled in business that was not theirs? “Bettina is very happy managing our house and family. As a matter of fact, she considers it time better spent than the endless hours here.”

  Nick nodded and, thankfully, left it at that.

  “Nick, I am early because I wanted a word with you. My wife told me that your sister is seriously considering an offer from Lord Osterman’s son.”

  “The countess knows that? I was hoping it would not be gossiped about until it was done.”

  “You cannot let it happen. You are the head of the household, and you must not allow it.”

  “Indeed?”

  Bettina heard the warning but went on anyway. “You know as well I do what an animal Osterman is. You cannot allow your sister to live in the same house with someone like him. And do you have any idea what his son is like? As far as I know, he has never been to Town.”

  “Harry, leave it alone. You do not know what is at stake, and I am not about to tell you when you gossip like a girl.”

  Bettina raised her voice a little. “Then think on this: is whatever compels you so important that you are willing to sacrifice your sweet sister’s health and well-being?”

  Nick Bright closed his eyes and shook his head. “It is not what I would wish for, but I am not the one in control here.”

  “But you are,” Bettina insisted, close to shouting.

  “Enough, my lord.” Nick spoke with quiet vehemence, turning from the earl and walking away. Bettina looked around to see more than one group watching, including Osterman. Had she been that loud? Loud enough for the others, for Osterman, to hear? That was the last thing Harry needed.

  Osterman stood up and began to walk to where Bettina was sitting, murder in his eyes. Bettina wanted to confront the man, wanted to tell him that nothing could keep the Earl of Fellsborough from defending the defenseless.

  The bell rang, calling the lords to the chamber, just as Osterman came close. “Saved by the bell, Fellsborough. You are as meddlesome as a fishwife. What will it take to convince you to mind your own business?”

  Lord Osterman did not wait for an answer but strode into the chamber, leaving Bettina wondering exactly what Harry would do in a situation like this. What kind of attention would it draw if the earl sent a message to his wife? Bettina knew she needed help.

  Twelve

  Nick had already taken his seat when Bettina joined him in the chamber. His ill humor had vanished, and Lord Nicholas made room on the bench for his friend.

  Bettina looked up at the gallery and was surprised though not particularly upset to see that Harry was not yet in place.

  There would be more traffic than usual, and Harry never left enough time, thinking that the world ran by his timepiece and always surprised when it did not. Hadn’t Bright expressed surprise at the earl’s early arrival just a few minutes ago?

  It was an effort to pay attention during the prosing of at least ten members of Commons. Was it just that they liked to hear themselves talk, or did they hope to attract the notice of someone more important and move up in the political world that Harry had so luckily been born into?

  It seemed a blessing of great magnitude to have the right to an earldom as Harry did. Yes, the family had earned it with a century or more of service to the crown, but the head of the family in the last two generations had only to maintain and add to the wealth.

  It seemed to Bettina that Harry’s brother, who was fighting in Portugal, was serving the king more directly and more purposefully than Harry was sitting here in Parliament.

  She settled more comfor
tably when she noticed that Harry had finally arrived.

  “What good timing on the countess’s part, Harry. She has arrived to hear the best speaker of the day.” Nick Bright nodded toward the other side of the floor where William Wilberforce stood.

  The earl’s good fortune was brought home to her even more strongly as she listened with unfeigned interest to the amazing Wilberforce, who had worked so long and tirelessly to end the slave trade.

  Today he was speaking on the need to abolish slavery completely, and it was clear that support was awakening. She looked up at Harry, who nodded, smiling at the words ringing in the air and the enthusiasm on both sides of the chamber.

  Then Lord Osterman stood up. “I cannot criticize Mr. Wilberforce’s dedication to the issues he thinks are the most important. How could I when he has proved that perseverance will eventually wear down opposition?”

  Oh, that was so annoying. As if the supporters of the slave trade had given up because Wilberforce nagged them to death. They had given up because they had been convinced of the error of their ways. Bettina was sure of that.

  Osterman droned on, but when Bettina felt Nick’s elbow in the ribs, she made herself listen again.

  “I ask you,” Osterman went on, “do you not think his concern is misplaced? Why waste our valuable time on concern for African slaves when we are in the midst of a war that should command all of our attention?”

  There were some murmurs of interest, if not agreement.

  “If we do not give all of our effort to the needs of the army, we may well find out what slavery is like under the French flag.”

  Bettina stood up, so incensed by Osterman’s inflammatory rhetoric and the nods and grunts of agreement that she responded so without thinking about what Harry’s stand would be. “Lord Osterman, your effort to strike fear in our hearts will fail. Englishmen are made of sterner stuff. We can defeat Napoleon and care for those in need. One does not exclude the other any more than a mother can only care for a sick child and neglect her other children.”