Violet’s arms were wrapped around the American’s neck, and she appeared to be enjoying herself thoroughly. In all the time Cathryn had lived with Violet, she’d never had a sense of her as an erotic being. There had been some mention of Mr. Pickering’s riding injury and his inability to have children, but no details. To see her kissing a handsome stranger in the glittering lights of Vauxhall reflected Cathryn’s own carnal experience, and she felt a strange sensation of primal kinship with her. Life had certainly taken an interesting turn, and she was thrilled Violet was benefiting.
“We’ve left them alone long enough.” Cathryn smoothed her gown and straightened her cloak. “How do I look?”
“Like Sappho herself. You’re a goddess, Cathryn.”
“Excellent answer, my lord.” He threaded his fingers through his hair to try to tame it, but the thick locks remained disheveled. She tucked a few strands into place and he was presentable for intimate company. “I’m suddenly famished. Shall we eat?”
He kissed her once more before they moved out of the shadows and saw Violet and her beau dancing again. “I had Rules restaurant cater our meal.”
It was only then that Cathryn appreciated where he’d brought them. Without a crowd, the Chinese pavilion looked much larger, and two of the supper boxes were suffused with the glow of candlelight and open clay stoves.
Julian watched the dancers with joy in his eyes, and she shared his sense of contentment. “I thought we could share a meal with them and then take a walk or continue dancing,” he said. His gaze returned to her and quickly became ravenous. “Afterwards, we will have privacy, and they can choose to stay or leave.”
“This is all most extraordinary. Thank you, darling.”
The plush cushions on the wide banquettes in the supper boxes were alluring, and her primeval desire to stay in the cover of the forest diminished. On the table in the center, Cathryn saw large silver trays with gleaming domed covers, and she imagined what scrumptious delicacies must lie beneath. The second supper box held only bottles of wine, glasses and a few smaller trays, which Cathryn expected contained desserts—strawberries and cream perhaps. Her stomach growled as she took Julian’s hand and led him over to the table. Darbonne and Violet followed and a bevy of serving boys appeared from the shadows of the supper boxes to take their cloaks and coats.
Once settled, Cathryn found the thick cushion and mounds of pillows most comfortable. She eagerly examined the aromatic dishes as the boys uncovered them. The oldest of the servers described each with a dramatic flair. “Smoked duck…succulent salmon fishcakes.” These trays were lifted and brought round for them to serve themselves from, as he continued to explain the offerings. “Fresh game pie…delectable crown of pheasant…juicy rib eye steak with Bernaise sauce,” he finished with a flourish and Cathryn wanted to applaud the mouth-watering bounty. Then he pointed to several smaller platters, which were still covered. “There we have a luscious golden treacle sponge pudding with custard and a devilishly rich chocolate pudding.”
He offered green cider and white port to start the meal, and everyone chose the port. There was a wine for each course, and a sweet pudding wine completed the banquet.
For a woman accustomed to eating a single plate of simple food per meal and an occasional glass of watered wine or sherry, it was an overwhelming spread. Cathryn resolved to eat little the next day, as the extra pounds too quickly turned to stones. Julian had complimented her trim figure more than once, and she had no desire to lessen his attraction for her.
Julian edged close to her. “It looks excessive, I know, but you ate no lunch.”
Her head snapped up to look at him. “Were you there?”
He shook his head. “Oxford’s a small town. I would have been noticed.” He shrugged his shoulders slightly. “And you asked to go alone.”
An unexpected disappointment shot through her. “How do you know I ate no lunch?”
“I sent two footmen, and one of them inquired with the innkeeper after you left.”
Relief flooded her. Likely, his men were in the dining area near Victor and Molly, within earshot of her private room. He had been protecting her.
“A forfeit, my lord,” Violet interrupted their conversation.
His eyes warmed as he gazed at Cathryn. “Indeed. Well, I believe one of my secret desires was quenched already tonight.”
Cathryn slapped him playfully on the arm. “Julian!”
He chuckled. “She brings out the beast in me.”
He nuzzled her bare neck playfully as if to prove his point, and she giggled at the tickling of his hair and breath. He awakened her skin once again and she longed for the return of his touch the instant he withdrew.
“Let me think.” He gazed out into the dark shadows beyond the twinkling of the clearing. “Well…I should like my sons to feel some affection from their mother. Yes, I’ve always had a desire for a wife who would be more than my mother is.” He looked at their puzzled faces and added, “She’s been a fine hostess at times, but…she’s colder than marble.” He picked up his wineglass. “I don’t believe she ever held me as a child, and I went from wet nurse to nanny to boarding school. It might be a proper British upbringing, but it was a bloody cold childhood.”
Cathryn’s heart opened to him and she covered his hand with hers under the table. Her mother had been warm and loving, her father preoccupied but caring. Julian was a passionate creature, but could someone denied love as a child ever come to love fully? She felt herself falling in love with him already. Perhaps she’d best hold her emotions in check.
“It won’t be that way in our home. If we have children,” she said softly, even as she tamped down her anxiety over her possible barrenness, “I shall nurse them myself and keep them at home until they ask to go away.”
“Thank you, love.” He turned away to cough lightly into his free hand, and Cathryn thought she saw tears in his eyes.
She glanced at Violet and Darbonne, whose attention was divided between the sumptuous meal and Julian’s emotional disclosure.
He seemed to realize he had cast a pall over the party, and he smiled at Darbonne. “I’ve even come to accept my father’s mistress as a necessity for him.”
“Master Aubrey?”
Cathryn’s jaw dropped as she stared at him. “Your father’s mistress is a man?”
Both men burst into laughter, and it was a moment before Julian said, “No, love, no. Master Aubrey is our fencing master. The title is a courtesy.”
“Mrs. Fiona Aubrey?”
“Yes, do you know her?”
“Vaguely, we both spend time with children at the Chelsea poorhouse. I’ve only seen her in passing, but she’s quite a favorite amongst the children.”
Darbonne’s voice was incredulous. “What on earth is Master Aubrey teaching the children?”
“Fencing—with wooden swords, of course. Mostly to assist the younger residents in obtaining employment in the theatre, but her students seem to rise above the others regardless of their occupation. I heard that she’s been doing this for ten years or more. I’m surprised you weren’t aware.”
Julian and Darbonne exchanged a baffled look that indicated this was a total surprise. “No, love. I’d always thought of her as, well, rather mercenary.”
“She is ruthless when she has the mask on,” Darbonne added. “Her reflexes are beyond par. With a light sword, I think she is unbeatable.”
Julian nodded. “She was a camp follower throughout Napoleon’s campaigns, although her family was quite wealthy. Her father was a captain and a master swordsman. He taught her himself and then sent her to study in Italy and France.” Picking up a lyre cutter, he carved a silky slice of foie gras, dropped it onto a wedge of toast and handed it to Cathryn.
Her plate was heaped before her, but she took his offering with a smile. “How did she come to be your father’s mistress?” She bit into the toast and the savory topping melted on her palate. She sighed with contentment at the luscious taste and textu
res.
He prepared himself a canapé as he responded. “In early 1816, only eight months after Waterloo, Miss Aubrey arrived at Literell Hall—our country residence near York—as my sisters’ governess. She was woefully unprepared academically, but her heroic father’s wartime connections vouched for her, and she had several offers. I met her on my school break and she became my fencing instructor, and then my father’s.” He took a bite as the others digested this information. “That winter Father took ill with a fever, and she nursed him tirelessly for nearly two months. He claims she saved his life.” He finished his toast and fixed another. “I’m not certain my mother was even aware of the bond that grew between them during his convalescence.” He offered the pâté to Cathryn, but a piece of fishcake was already on way to her mouth, and she reluctantly declined. He smiled at her warmly before he finished. “The next spring my father moved to London and set her up with a house and a small fencing studio. She began to call herself Mrs. Aubrey and he has rarely left London since.” He ate with enthusiasm once he completed his story.
Between portions, Cathryn asked, “Do they have children?”
He reached for his wineglass, and she did the same. “No, his doctors said his fever may have rendered him sterile, but in any case, she has no issue I am aware of.”
She washed down her first course with fine red wine and then asked, “She’s very lovely and nearly your age. Did you ever yearn for her?”
A queer look crossed his features and she regretted her impertinence. He took a long drink of wine and avoided the question.
Darbonne saved him from answering. “Every man she knows wants her on some level, but most fear her too much to approach her.”
Violet was busy eating, so Cathryn asked for her. “Does that include you, Mr. Darbonne?”
“I wouldn’t be a man if I weren’t attracted to a woman as beautiful and full of joie de vivre as Fiona Aubrey. Out of respect for the marquis, and with no small fear for my pride and person, I never gave her serious consideration. She is an extraordinary instructor, however, and I enjoy her company. Indeed, if she had a men’s club attached to her fencing studio, it would be full at all hours.”
Imagining a younger Julian meeting the stunning Miss Aubrey and becoming her private student, Cathryn realized that he very likely had yearned wildly for her—perhaps he still did. A pang of jealousy piqued her and she asked, “Does she sleep with men besides your father?”
Julian shot her an odd look, and then he chuckled. “Rarely, but there have been some very public adventures over the years. She has a weakness for dashing cavalrymen.”
“Don’t we all?” Violet muttered as she nibbled on a tender morsel of pheasant.
Cathryn laughed and the gentlemen joined her. That comment was out of character for Violet. Perhaps they should slow down on the wine or she would be regretting her actions.
“We all have weaknesses, that’s true,” Darbonne offered. “I’ve heard, and I believe this is public knowledge and not mere gossip, but I heard that she spent a summer in Paris with a woman—many years ago.”
The women looked at him blankly, so he clarified. “As lovers.”
Both women gasped and Violet coughed into her napkin before she said, “Dear heavens, she shouldn’t be serving at the poorhouse if she’s of such character.”
Julian barked a laugh that startled them all. “Sorry,” he said a bit sheepishly. “I should think the poorhouse would take anyone willing to enter the premises. Fiona’s distant junkets are hardly grounds for disqualifying her.”
“There are children—”
He cut Violet off. “That she is obviously helping. No one ever accused her of molesting innocents.”
Violet sipped her wine as she considered this and Cathryn intervened. “Of course not. Mrs. Aubrey is unconventional, but her contributions are noble.”
Julian nodded and he filled his mouth with steak, likely to keep from saying something he would regret. Cathryn appreciated such restraint and set to enjoying the repast in earnest.
Julian’s heart raced as he tried to appear calm. He hated discussing Fiona and rued bringing her name up. But it was done, and now Cathryn knew his secret. Darbonne had laid it out clear as day, and Cathryn wasn’t dense. He loved Fiona Aubrey. What male in his position wouldn’t have fallen in love with the adventurous, beautiful mistress of the sword? His love was not as deep or as pure as during his youth, but he would always feel an abiding affection for the woman.
He wished Darbonne hadn’t brought up Fiona’s female lovers. He’d boxed more than one taunting schoolmate who accused Fiona of lifting skirts, and he’d left Cambridge at the earliest opportunity to avoid any more conflicts over his father’s audacious mistress. Once she had taken up with his father, he’d left her alone for three years, not seeing her even for fencing instruction.
It irked him to this day that when she first strayed, the affair was not with him as he’d always hoped. She could have had any man in London, but instead, she took off to Paris with her tentmate from the war trail, the infamous Melina Burns.
Chapter Nine
Three hours later, Cathryn thought herself completely spent after two energetic rounds of lovemaking. She was dozing blissfully under cover of her luxurious cloak when she heard Violet and Darbonne return to the adjoining supper box. Julian was spooned behind her and snoring lightly, but he stirred first. His arm tightened around her, and he whispered, “Should we give them privacy?” The violins tuned up for another song.
She was certain that Violet and her partner had heard their cries of delight at some point during the past hours, and she shrugged lightly, overcome by lethargy as she murmured, “I don’t want to move until I must.”
His low chuckle reverberated throughout her and was oddly comforting. “If we stay, we’ll be moving.” He stroked down her side to her hip and rested his hand on her thigh.
Three times he had taken her already, and each time she had found her own release. She was pleasantly exhausted from the rigors of such intense erotic exercise. “Again?” she whispered, and he nuzzled her neck with a low murr. An ember of desire flickered within her, and she smiled into the dark warmth of her cloak.
Violet’s hushed voice could be heard clearly. “Do you think they’re sleeping? They haven’t made any noise for some time.”
“Yes, darling, I’m sure they’ve fallen asleep,” whispered Darbonne with clear intent. “We’ll be quiet. Shhh.”
Julian made a distinct snoring sound, and Cathryn suppressed a giggle. There was no noise from the other supper box for some time, and Cathryn dozed as she imagined the couple was kissing. Julian continued his light snore, but his hand began to wander over her belly and up to her breasts.
One violin began to play a romantic tune, and the other followed a few seconds later, echoing the first player. The violins played cat and mouse with one another for several bars and then settled into a sensual rhythm perfect for lovemaking.
During the brief breaks in the music, Violet’s breathy giggles could be heard, and Cathryn assumed Darbonne was taking some liberty beyond kissing, perhaps stroking her exposed breasts. The music continued, and Cathryn wondered briefly if she should put an end to the evening before Violet did something she would regret when she was sober. Cathryn tensed and began to rise.
Julian whispered in her ear, “She’s a grown woman, love.” His hand was wreaking havoc on her senses and the desire to leave him evaporated. “Would you deny her this?” He tugged gently on her nipples and Cathryn arched against him.
“No,” she murmured.
A series of whimpers and low moans could now be heard over the musicians, along with the rustle of satin. Violet’s gown was being lifted or removed. Julian raised Cathryn’s leg slightly and slid his erection between her thighs, delighting her with each slow stroke.
“Oh, Rune,” Violet’s voice trilled, “I don’t think you should—” Darbonne must have ignored her, because Violet’s agitation was evident when she s
aid, “Rune, that’s not how it’s done in England.”
Julian and Cathryn shook with laughter, but they managed to keep quiet.
Rune’s voice was muffled. “Shhh. Relax, darling.”
Violet whispered loudly, “I can’t relax with you…down there.”
Cathryn was so curious she nearly rose from her comfortable resting place to peek at the couple over the low bolster that separated them, but Julian’s arm was a welcome fetter.
A desperate whisper followed. “I tell you, Rune, that’s not how Englishmen make love.”
Cathryn could not hold back a giggle, but she clamped her hand over her mouth to keep quiet. Julian buried his face in her back and his chuckles vibrated throughout her.
Heavy breathing and soft grunts followed, and Cathryn could see shadows shifting in the overhead mirror. Julian lifted her leg and probed her wetness with his rigid shaft.
“Well,” Violet moaned, as if feeling the same glorious pleasure Cathryn felt. “That’s lovely, Rune,” she encouraged breathlessly.
Julian sank into Cathryn with a low groan. He stretched her wide and ground against her with perfect pressure, while she listened to her friend making love only feet away.
“Lovely, Rune, that’s…divine.” Each encouraging syllable was laced with building pleasure, and it seemed only a minute before Violet began to pant her impending ecstasy. “Yes…yes…yes…divine.” Rustling sounds accompanied her quiet pleas, until a high keening cry stilled the air, and for a moment, Cathryn felt Violet’s fervor thrill through her. Even the musicians seemed to pause before they hurried into another tune.
Rune’s moans followed, mixed with strange sucking sounds followed by a long, low grunt.
Julian’s hand was busy between her thighs as he stroked her tender nub and thrust vigorously in and out of her slick passage. Cathryn could not contain her own cries of delight as he edged her higher and higher towards her own pleasure. When the pinnacle came, she muffled her whimpers in the plush cushion beneath her face as Julian emptied himself inside her with a satisfied groan.
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