She gasped again as he entered her. He felt so large. She felt so small and tight. Surely she would not be expected to withstand this degradation often.
Deeper he pushed into her, his breathing thick and hard and fast. As he stroked her, all became quicker except the pain which became greater.
Please let it be over soon. Please make him stop. Please. Please. Please!
In one last great heave, he groaned as his body tensed so tight, he went rigid over her, then collapsed upon her, a dead weight.
She realized she had also been straining for breath. That the pain had eased somewhat at the end and that she had survived the encounter was little consolation. She hesitated as she listened to the deep breathing of her newly consummated spouse.
Had he fallen asleep?
She pushed and prodded until he lay sprawled on the bed next to her. Finally free of his weight, she rolled away into a tight ball, tugged her nightrail back down around her, and prayed for sleep.
How would she ever get over the embarrassment? The sheer indignity of this moment?
Sleep, a blessing, finally took her.
~ ~ ~
Drew woke with a headache and a cock that felt as if it had been scraped with sanded paper. Leaning up on his elbows, he took in the back of his no longer virginal bride. She had pulled her nightrail back down over her hips but it did not hide the small smears of brownish-red on her gown and the sheets between them.
He drew the covers up over her sleeping form.
He had done his duty but felt none too proud of the results. He failed to seduce her. Had come like a schoolboy in mere seconds after entering her. And she had dreaded every minute of the encounter, her eyes squeezed so tightly shut he thought she might have permanent wrinkling on her forehead despite her youth.
It had not been a pretty sight.
She looked quite lovely when he first entered the room. Fragile and delicate propped up in the big bed in the dainty white gown, her face so pale, her rich, dark blonde braid cascading over her shoulder. Surely she had not been aware of what the entire activity would entail.
More the fool he for making such a botched job of it.
He crawled out of the bed trying not to disturb her. Shoving his nightshirt back down over his hips, he gathered his robe from the floor, slipped it on, and headed for the door.
Back in his room he poured himself a brandy, then tossed it down. Feeling no relief, he poured another one and did the same. After four more shots of fire, he remained awake and remorseful.
Gathering whatever clothes he could find, he dressed himself haphazardly, knowing his valet would be appalled but not caring one iota.
Moments later, he took the stairs and stumbled out the front door. He had to find solace some place. Surely one of the hells would deaden the pain and his embarrassment.
He staggered down the street grasping at railings here and there for support. At the corner he unceremoniously tripped and landed face down in the gutter.
Evidently, the brandy was finally taking effect.
“What’s up there, m’lud? Need a hand? Here, let me help ya.”
“White’s. Take me to White’s. They’ll pay you there.” Drew heard the slurring of his own words. A hell would not be necessary after all. At the club they would find some quiet corner to put him until his inebriation wore off.
“Certainly, m’lud. White’s it’ll be. Just let me help ya into me cab. That’s it. Raise ya foot a little more. In ya go.” The driver gave him a shove into the cab, and he landed indelicately on the well-used squabs. Had he been pushed a little harder he probably would have tumbled out the other side.
Sitting up and rocking from too much brandy and the roughness of the road, he tried to straighten his attire to some modicum of respectability before he arrived at White’s.
The ride seemed endless. White’s never seemed so far from his home. And the emphatic pounding in his head that had escalated shortly after landing in the gutter did not help in the least. Nor did the fetid odors emanating from the squabs.
At last the cab stopped, the door swung open. What smelled like fish and detritus drifted into the small space. He couldn’t be at the river. White’s was not so near the river.
Drew heard gruff voices and gathered his wits to comprehend the discussion. Failing to catch the gist of the conversation, he tried to lever himself out the far side of the cab but nausea and dizziness forced him back onto the squabs. Not knowing what else to do and in no fit state to take on what sounded like three rough men outside, he closed his eyes to pretend he had passed out. He slitted his eyes open just enough to see what would happen next.
The cabriolet door belched open. “Here ya go, Cap’n. This one’s three sheets in the wind already. Promise me you’ll be gone afore first light or I’ll be in a bevy of trouble.”
“No problem, Josh. The ship leaves on the next tide out just before dawn.” Laughter broke out as a large ruffian climbed into the small space. Grabbed by his lapels, Drew was dragged from his seat, then pulled through the door into the arms of an even larger man who smelled like stale ale, old sweat, and salt air.
“Where you want ’im, Cap’n? Belowdecks?”
“Aye. Toss him in the empty hammock and we’ll wait until he wakes up. Then we’ll see what we can make of him.”
Thrown over the second man’s shoulder, Drew, blurry eyed, looked back at the two men standing on the docks as money exchanged hands and they turned away. He raised a hand, tried to raise his voice, but the drink overtook him.
As his mind faded into the abyss of intoxication, he felt certain he would come to rue this day if he even survived it.
Chapter 5
“What do you mean, the viscount is missing? He was in my room last night.” Marianne stood in the somber, well-stocked library in front of her new father-in-law’s desk worrying yet another starched, white, lace handkerchief. Summoned from the gardens only moments ago, she had been trying to start the adjustment to her new home.
Would the drama never end? Would her life never settle into a pattern that would give her peace?
“It’s just as I said, madam. He was not in his room this morning. Nor did he sleep in his bed last night.” The earl steepled his fingers, his elbows on his desk, and looked down his nose at her. “What did you do to him? What did you say to him? How did you upset him?”
He dared to put her on the defensive? “How did I upset him? I said nothing. I did my duty as expected. He fell asleep soon thereafter next to me. When I woke up this morning, he was gone.” Marianne dropped into a seat in front of the desk. This was too much by half. She clasped her hands together to keep from wringing her handkerchief further. She felt the presence of the new piece of jewelry on her left hand.
Dropping her gaze, the heavy gold band with the three cabochon rubies and small diamonds delineating them glinted back at her. Her wedding ring. Not her possession for a full day and her husband had already deserted her. Though she imagined it must be better this way than being left at the altar.
Just barely.
Drew told her right after the ceremony the ring had been his mother’s and had been in his family for generations. His attitude, so gentle and forthright, gave her the impression he had loved his mother a great deal.
She had to admit the ring was beautiful and she loved it, both for its history and the stunning stones and setting.
The earl broke into her reverie.
“I am aware you consummated the marriage as required.”
Marianne felt the blood drain from her face. “That would be none of your business.”
“On the contrary, madam. Being a business arrangement, your dowry does not convey to the viscount unless the marriage is official. That means it must be consummated. I had the maid pull the sheets to verify the nece
ssary actions were taken.”
The earl’s arrogant demeanor made Marianne want to slap him. Unfortunately, she did not think it wise to take such actions. Especially with her new husband missing and her new father-in-law a peer of the realm.
She took in a deep breath as she twisted the ring around her finger. “So, my lord, exactly why do you think the viscount is missing? Could he not have just gone to his club? Visited a friend? Taken a walk?”
“Madam,” the earl began.
“Please, my lord, my name is Marianne. Under the circumstances it is most appropriate that you use it.”
“Very well. Marianne, it is not uncommon that Andrew, your husband—”
“I know his name, my lord,” Marianne interrupted, insulted that he would imply she didn’t know of whom he spoke.
“Yes, your husband. It is not uncommon that he should be out late. He has been known to frequent White’s and other, um, let us say, less desirable locales, late into the night. However, by this time of the day, well past noon, he would be in his room in his bed recovering from his forays the night before. As I said earlier, his room is vacant. His bed has not been slept in. He is missing.”
With this, Marianne’s alarm became palpable. Not married a full day and already her husband had run away? What would people think? What would they say?
Getting up from her seat, she started pacing the room worrying the newly seated ring on her finger as she stalked to and fro. “What do we do? Who can help us find him?”
The earl rose from behind his desk and came around to her side but he did not touch or console her. “I have sent runners out to all his known haunts. I’ve alerted the Metropolitan Police Force at Scotland Yard. I’ve sent others out to possible locations we may not know of and to his few friends as well. As yet, there has been no news. Even his valet has pled ignorance, saying Andrew was not there this morning when he checked, that a few of his clothes were gone but nothing else seemed amiss.”
She turned toward him. “What am I to do? How can I help?”
A look of near amazement crossed the earl’s face. “You want to help?”
“Of course I do. Drew is lost. He must be found. Despite circumstances, he is my husband. We must find him.”
The earl took her hand in his and patted it gently.
Would people never stop patting her hand as if she were some kind of dim-witted pet?
Seemingly realizing the familiarity of his actions, he dropped her hand as if she carried the plague. He took a step back. “We’ll find him. It may take some time but we will find him. In the meanwhile, I suggest we get you moved into his town house so you can begin to settle into your new life.”
“I’m leaving? My husband is missing and you are pushing me out?”
“No, Marianne, you can visit here. You are my daughter-in-law. But you and Andrew will be making your own life together and he wanted to start that in his town house. I believe it would be better for you to set yourself up there. When he returns, you will be ready for your new beginning.”
Feeling abandoned and knowing an argument would make little difference, Marianne acquiesced. “As you wish, my lord.” Giving a meager curtsy, she left the room to supervise the repacking of her things.
If she had to leave, she would do so immediately. The less time she spent under the roof of Drew’s uncompassionate, selfish father, the better for her. No matter the state of the town house, her dowry would be enough to refurbish it and cover any other debts her new husband brought with him. If she needed more money, she had only to ask her father. And, under the current circumstances, a discussion with her father concerning her new situation seemed clearly in order. Her father would know what to do and could have his solicitors see to her financial protection and well-being until Drew returned.
~ ~ ~
Drew woke again, his head still throbbing, his whole body swaying, yet his feet were not on the ground. Where was he? Why did he still feel drunk? He had not taken a drink since that night—his wedding night.
As Drew took a deep breath, his senses filled with salt air. Was he still at the river? No, the river did not smell of the sea. And he swayed.
He raised his head to peruse his surroundings. Walls of planking. Floors of planking. The room rocking. His bed swaying.
He lay in a hammock on board a ship.
It came back to him in a horrible rush. His wedding night. The drinking. The fall in the gutter. The driver who picked him up and put him in a cab. Three men talking. Money exchanging hands. Being carried somewhere.
And here he was. He must have been pressed into service as a sailor on a ship.
He hurried to check his person. He still wore the clothes he’d thrown on when he stumbled out of his father’s house, his puce wedding suit. He checked his hands, relieved to find his gold wedding band. He fumbled in his pockets, first one, then the other. He found it, the miniature of Marianne, his new bride. His wife somewhere far away on dry land. And she having absolutely no idea where in heaven’s name he could be.
How could he contact her? Send her a message?
“So you’re up. Well you’ve been sleepin’ for three days but we had a hand in that. Couldn’t have you makin’ a fuss while we was still near a port.”
Drew jerked his head up to see the man speaking to him.
He remembered this man. The huge, strong reprobate who had thrown him over his shoulder like Drew was a child’s doll.
Now he could see him clearly. Burly would be the best description. He had to be six-feet-four or five. Definitely taller than he was. And broad as an ox. Not an ounce of fat on him. Multiple teeth missing. Hair shaggy, unclean, and uncombed.
And the odor of him. Did he never bathe?
“Yes, I’m up. Where am I and why have you kidnapped me? I want to be taken to the nearest port this instant.”
The giant’s face lit into a humorless smile. “I doubt that’ll be happenin’ any time soon, m’lud. You’ve been sold into service on the East Indiaman Master’s Mistress. You have work to do and you’ll need to be gettin’ to it or you’ll not be havin’ another meal until you do. We all earn our keep aboard ship.”
“Work? I know nothing of ships nor how to sail them.”
“You’ll be learnin’ fast or you’ll be swimming in the depths of the Atlantic with sharks and the like. Now get up.” The mate grabbed him roughly by the arm and hauled him out of the hammock-style bed.
Chapter 6
Two weeks later, Marianne entered the town house’s completely renovated drawing room amazed at what could be done in a short period of time when one had money to spend. Especially when Sovereigns, not credit, were promised, then delivered.
Most pleased with how this room had turned out, she had collected pictures from around Drew’s town house, her parents’ (if no longer in use), and from a number of credible art dealers in town. After having the walls papered in an attractive rococo print in a warm grey and cream, she had tastefully arranged the artworks around the walls emphasizing those of greatest value and beauty. To coordinate further, she had a pleasant stripe in the same hues made for draperies which were richly hung at the windows. Pulled back, these let in as much daylight as possible. She hated a dark room and to further reduce that possibility, she had new gaslights installed. Finally, she selected all new furnishings in rich mahoganies and fine upholstery. The fabrics included the grey and cream and brought in the richness of a beautiful pale blue. The silks, velvets, and damasks spread about the room created a warm, inviting space that would be seen by all who visited.
She loved it.
However, she regretted that her father-in-law, who had made an appointment, would be the first to see it. Even her parents had yet to visit since the renovation.
She unconsciously twisted the cabochon ruby wedding ring around her fing
er as her father-in-law, properly announced by the butler, entered.
She made an acceptable curtsy. “My lord, welcome to our home.”
“Harrumph, I see you’re making the place your own.” Disdain and disapproval clear in his voice, his gaze made a thorough inspection of the interior decoration. No doubt he would have been more pleased if the money had gone to his own devices.
“On the contrary, my lord. Upon arriving I noticed the house reflected a bachelor’s lifestyle. Things were untended and unorganized. I merely started to put them in order as a good wife should. Knowing how much my husband prefers to be in the latest fashion, I endeavored to decorate the rooms as he would wish, au courant. This is the first room completed but the rest are coming along nicely.” Marianne moved to the newly purchased chaise longue upholstered in blue silk and sat. “Would you have a seat, my lord?” She motioned toward another new addition, this one a bergère chair in a coordinating damask of all three hues.
“No, I won’t be staying long.” Reaching inside his jacket he produced a small sheaf of papers. “I just need you to sign these papers.”
“And, may I ask, what they are?” Marianne, quite sure she knew what the papers held, had been wise in seeking her father’s counsel and that of his solicitors, some of whom were now in her employ.
“You need not worry what they are. Just sign them and I’ll be on my way.” He flapped the papers at her and looked around the room. “We need an inkwell and pen. Have your butler bring them immediately.”
She shook her head. “I will do no such thing until I know what those papers contain. I am not in the habit of signing things I have not read. Did you think I had not studied the contract concerning my marriage to your son? I did. My father made sure I understood the agreement and my part in it.” Marianne arranged her skirts. She no longer needed to twist a handkerchief. Until her husband returned she would be mistress of her own fate. And should he never return, she would sail her own ship with the assistance of her father and her solicitors. No longer would she be adrift in a sea of men telling her what to do and when. And especially not the Earl of Reignsfield who had bankrupted his fortune and expected her to bail him out. Her husband, after all, had the contractual ownership of her dowry.
Seduced by the Dandy Lion Page 3