Lady's Temptations: A Winter's Regency Menage

by Reed, Kristabel

  Frowning, his temper still beating through him, he stopped outside their offices. Of course, they still hadn’t quite worked out what the three of them would do after the wedding. But Prescott had full faith it would work out—assuming they could now avoid Sarina’s seemingly impending marriage to Hawksmoor.

  With his fingers curled into tight fists, he pressed them against the wall, harder, wanting to punch his fist through the wall instead. But he needed to control himself. This afternoon was not going to be the last time he made love to Sarina. He’d see to that. Their first night with all three of them was not going to be their last night together.

  Anger throbbed through him, and Prescott pushed it aside. He needed a clear head for speaking to Liam. Where he wanted to lash out, punch walls, and kick empty crates, he needed a calculating calmness instead. He consciously unclenched his jaw and took a moment to gather his thoughts. He needed to tell Liam what had happened, and they needed to devise a plan to extract Sarina from this marriage before she was forced to carry through with it.

  Sarina was strong and practical, and it was that very part of her nature that scared Prescott.

  She was oftentimes too practical. She’d see marrying Hawksmoor was the practical and obvious choice with her aunt’s death. The levelheaded way to keep the fortune in the family. The pragmatic answer to funding the Hawksmoor estate and title.

  What he and Liam needed to do was move quickly—to remind her of her love for them and their willingness to do whatever it took to see to her happiness.

  To do so, they both needed to think logically, though eloping with Sarina to Gretna Green did have its advantages, Prescott supposed. Still, he had no idea what to say to Liam. How to break this latest development to him in any sort of rational manner.

  The two of them had known each other for so long that they could read each other without words. Doing so had helped them survive the war and then later begin and expand their business; their close understanding of the other had proven a most productive way to interpret potential customers.

  The instant he entered the offices, Liam would know something was wrong.

  Outside their office doors, he took one final deep breath, uncurled his fingers, and schooled his features into a blank mask. Taking another moment, he gathered his thoughts and tried to control the impotent anger at the situation. Anger that might’ve boiled over if not for making love to Sarina in her front parlor.

  Even now, the taste of her skin tempted him to return to her. The feel of her shattering beneath him made him hard despite the cold hallway and the shadow brewing over their future. Prescott pushed open the door and ignored the secretary buried beneath ledgers and several merchants clearly waiting to speak with either him or Liam.

  Not bothering to knock, Prescott walked into Liam’s office and shut the door with a decisive click.

  The look on his closest friend’s face was anticipatory, eager. They both missed Sarina this last day and a half. But it had been Prescott who spent time with her, and who had made love to her. A fact he’d have to divulge to Liam for the sake of honesty and trust.

  First things first. They needed absolute honest and openness between them.

  Standing, Liam ignored the mound of papers and ships invoices on his desk. “How is she?” he asked quietly, despite the closed door.

  The other man’s blue eyes lit with the same fire Prescott knew had burned in his when he’d first seen Sarina this afternoon. He hated to do this.

  Clutching his gloves in one hand, he angrily tossed his hat into a corner chair. “She’s confused,” he began.

  Hesitating again, he shrugged off his coat and dropped it into the same chair, his movement as controlled as possible. Instead of railing against Hawksmoor or Georgiana’s death, he should’ve used that walk to find the words to tell Liam of this development.

  “That doesn’t surprise me,” Liam admitted with a smile. His blue eyes were sharp as he studied him, and Prescott bit back a curse. “But she hasn’t expressed a desire to change our plans, has she?”

  There was a glimmer of hope as well as concern in his friend’s voice. Prescott struggled with the words that needed to be said and finally admitted, “Not as such.” Another deep breath, full of burning wood from the small stove. “Something has happened, Liam.”

  Liam took another step closer, his blue eyes icy and narrowing now. “Is she all right? What has transpired—”

  Prescott interrupted him with a raised hand. He glanced at the door, but it was still closed. Swallowing hard against his own anger, he said, “More was lost than we thought in the village fire. Sarina’s aunt was lost as well. And as you know, her obligation to marry Hawksmoor…”

  Liam drew in a sharp breath, his shoulders stiff, eyes incredulous. “Passes to Sarina.” Jaw clenched, his hands clasped behind his back, he continued. “We can’t allow this to happen.”

  Prescott almost laughed. The sound burned his throat and he swallowed it. “I’m well aware of that,” he snapped. Then he took a step back and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. It wasn’t Liam’s fault.

  “We must attack this as we do any business problem.” He paced to the small window overlooking the Thames. “This is far more important.”

  “Yes,” he agreed. “It was all I thought of as I returned. My first suggestion was to convince Sarina to simply run off with us.”

  Gretna Green had its advantages, though the damage to Sarina’s reputation would be significant. Still, better to deal with the consequences from an elopement than have her marry another. Liam looked over his shoulder, a brief, knowing grin on his face.

  “I consider that the most reasonable solution,” Liam concurred. “However, I don’t believe Sarina would agree.”

  “No.” He shook his head. “I don’t believe she would, either. Though, it is something we could press her on. However, her familial obligation is very strong.”

  “It is a hurdle we must overcome.” Liam turned and leaned against the windowpane, his arms folded across his chest.

  “The hurdle is not truly her.” Prescott sighed in frustration. “It’s Hawksmoor.”

  Liam pushed off the window and walked to his desk. “His estate is nearly bankrupt. And even with as much money as we’ve managed here, it would bankrupt us to take on an estate and a debt of that size.”

  Prescott looked to his friend. “Perhaps we can set him up in his own endeavor. Show him how to make his own fortune.”

  “If you were Hawksmoor,” Liam asked incredulously, “would you wait the years it’d take to make a fortune? Or would you simply marry it? No.” Liam scoffed. “These men don’t know how to do more than marry money. They’re soft.”

  Frustration ate at him, and Prescott threw up his arms in annoyance. “Then it seems,” Prescott said slowly, “our only option is to find Hawksmoor money to marry. Money that isn’t Sarina’s.”

  Allowing the frustration to overtake him, he rapped the head of his walking stick on Liam’s desk. The small exertion and heavy sound did nothing to ease him. Pressing his palms on the desktop, he leaned forward, his shoulders slumped.

  “I hate this,” Prescott muttered. “This should be easier now that we’ve managed to convince Sarina.”

  Liam snorted. “When has anything in our lives ever been easy? I worked my way up from practically nothing. And you worked from a deficit.” Liam shook his head ruefully. “Your father spent more money than the Sinclair estate ever had. What does Hawksmoor know about fighting for what you truly want? Of compromise? Hell, Prescott, you and I couldn’t even fall in love with a different woman.”

  Prescott gave a short laugh over that, some of his irritation disappearing in light of his friend’s keen observations. Still, the entire situation ate at him, this knowledge that after he and Liam finally came to an agreement over Sarina, finally convinced her to accept the both of them, she threatened to slip through their fingers.

  “Yes.” He sighed. “And we haven’t yet worked out a
ll those details.”

  They’d only just agreed it was possible to share Sarina’s love shortly before the Kingsnorth Winter Festival. The particulars of what happened after, well, they hadn’t exactly worked out yet.

  Liam rocked back on his heels and nodded. His hands still clasped behind his back, he offered a very slight shrug, more telling over his state of mind than a wild thrashing. “I know. And normally I’d be concerned over such a thing.”

  He walked around the desk and leaned against it, his arms folded over his chest now. Prescott straightened and watched his friend. “But I’m not,” Liam added with a sincerity Prescott witnessed only between them. “We came to an accord when it comes to Sarina. And neither jealousy nor mistrust is part of that accord. Whatever details have gone unspoken, make no difference to me.”

  Offering the other man a half-smile, as a weight he hadn’t even been aware pressed against his chest finally lifted, Prescott admitted, “If I have to share the woman I love…”

  Prescott nodded to Liam, unable to find words to fit this moment. But he knew Liam understood what remained unspoken. Their friendship had been tested enough, during the war, during the start of their business, with Sarina’s love. This, their new ménage, could work.

  “Then it’s settled.” Liam nodded again and pushed off from the desk. “We do what we can to ensure the marriage between Hawksmoor and Sarina never happens.”

  Prescott nodded. The two of them were usually so well prepared, able to strategize and execute a plan no matter the circumstances. Matters of the heart rarely, he knew, followed a plan. Well laid out or not.

  “There’s no one else out there for either of us but her,” Liam added. “And we both knew that the moment we met her.”

  He couldn’t help the fond smile and agreed. “She’s a lot like her brother was—practical.”

  “And there might be the reason we both fell in love with her,” Liam pointed out. “She’s practical.”

  Laughing, Prescott added, “And her beauty isn’t a detraction.”

  Liam offered an amused snort to that observation. He and Liam had shared women during the war, but Sarina was above those camp followers and prostitutes. However, if they hadn’t shared those women, neither would have so much as envisioned this particular scheme now.

  But then his friend scrubbed a hand down his face and stood once more by the windows. “We’ll figure this out,” he vowed. “We have to.”

  Prescott could only agree. But he had a feeling that despite Liam’s unusual optimism, ensuring that marriage never happened would be harder than either he or Liam anticipated.

  Chapter Ten

  Sarina stayed in her parlor long after Prescott left. She sat on the settee, her hands tightly clasped before her, tea long cooled on the table, and stared at the floor where she and Prescott had made love. Her body continued to hum from his touch, his taste, the sparks of orgasm still warming her blood. When she closed her eyes, Sarina felt Prescott’s mouth on hers, his fingers on her nipples, gliding along her wetness.

  Never before had she thought she’d be one of those women who wouldn’t care that her virginity had been lost. But she didn’t care.

  Even if it meant going to Oliver like this, no longer chaste, she did not care. Part of that lack of concern horrified her. And part comforted her. Because now, she’d always know what it was like to be with the men she loved. The two men she wanted. And for that, she had no regret.

  She was always a sensible woman; the romantic stories her friends had read never truly captured her. But now, with the memory of Liam’s lips on hers, of Prescott’s hands teasing her most intimate parts, of the pleasant soreness tugging her body anew, Sarina wondered if those stories had been more real than fanciful.

  The world around looked different to her. Was it because she saw the life around her with a more experienced eye? Or was it because she needed to cherish what she had in these coming days?

  Her body tingling with remembered need, Sarina hesitatingly ran a hand over her breast and felt her nipple harden beneath the touch. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine it was Liam’s hand on her breast, his teeth closing over her nipple with that hard and hot tug of need.

  Taking a deep breath, she held it for several heartbeats before releasing it slowly. What had come over her? Sarina didn’t know, but for once, she felt no need to control it. She rose slowly and left the parlor, her gaze straight ahead, and walked with a measured gait back to her room. It didn’t matter that Maryanne and Henrietta were due to return momentarily.

  She rang for Lydia and informed her lady’s maid that she wasn’t feeling well. Lydia helped her undress, tutting quietly and promising soup and tea, before leaving her alone. Sarina barely acknowledged Lydia when the other woman returned, though she was grateful.

  Ignoring the tea and soup, Sarina lay in bed and tried to sort things. She slept fitfully that night; half-formed ideas raced through her mind, dreams of Liam and Prescott, of Oliver dragging her away, of her lovers making love to her in front of Oliver, claiming her for all to see. Teeth and lips and fingers on her, in her, branding her as Oliver watched from the shadows.

  The next morning when Sarina opened her eyes, she felt no more rested than she had the previous night. She threw back the bedding, but she couldn’t throw off the sharpness of her arousal or the heated need of her lovers’ touch as easily. Wrapped in a heavy dressing gown, she walked to the window and looked over the barren landscape. Even midwinter couldn’t temper the intensity of her desire or the newness with which she now viewed the world.

  And perhaps there was a way to implement Prescott’s plan, to find a rich wife for Oliver. But right at that moment, Sarina didn’t think about any impending marriage to the other man. His engagement to Georgiana had been well known, and the proper period of mourning must be observed before anything else.

  She had time yet, before she’d be forced to agree to marry Oliver. At least she hoped.

  Despite her cousins’ pushing her to marry Oliver, Sarina hated to push against them. They’d been nothing but good to her. Maryanne wanted the prestige of having Sarina as the Countess of Hawksmoor and all the status and distinction that went with that. But that was no reason to simply give in and marry the man.

  No, Sarina realized as she wandered from window to fireplace, that was no reason at all. And the more she thought on it, the more Sarina understood her own passions and wants. She wanted to push back, wanted to dismiss her cousins’ demands that she immediately marry Oliver. She hadn’t even spoken to Oliver since learning of Georgiana’s death!

  Sarina had no idea what Oliver wanted. Perhaps he’d found a way to save his estate from bankruptcy on his own, but had wanted to marry Georgiana for other reasons. A love marriage wasn’t unheard of.

  She loved Liam and Prescott. Both men were irrevocably entangled in her heart.

  Lydia quietly entered the room with her morning tea, and Sarina dressed for the day. While her maid chatted softly about things, news from Kingsnorth, idle gossip from the kitchens, Sarina planned her day. Henrietta and Maryanne planned to remain home today, so far as Sarina knew, and she had no desire to confront either cousin.

  So she dressed carefully, a young woman simply out shopping for the morning. Lydia confirmed her guess that neither of her cousins were yet at breakfast; it was far too early for them to be, so she hurried down and ate quickly, enjoying the solitude of her thoughts in the dining room.

  While waiting for Lydia, Sarina hurriedly scribbled a note informing Henrietta and Maryanne she’d gone out for the morning. She remained vague in her wording, but all the while her heart pounded with excitement.

  “Lydia,” she called from the door where the carriage even now pulled to a stop.

  “Here, Miss,” Lydia said, tying her hat beneath her chin.

  Sarina debated going to The Temple of the Muses to shop for books, but decided on Oxford Street instead. She hadn’t the concentration to browse for books today, and frankly this ent
ire excursion was simply to make her way to the West India Docks.

  After a pleasant enough morning of shopping, Sarina sent Lydia to enjoy tea and made her way, scandalously alone, to the building where Liam and Prescott had offices.

  She’d never truly paid attention to the docks. At the corner of the street, Sarina hesitated and watched the activity with interest. People walked, ran, or stood on every available space, some hawking items such as roasted chestnuts or the early afternoon edition of the newspaper. Some clearly had someplace to be and hurried to their next destination, while others still stood beside the buildings, hiding in the shadows or intently observing every person’s move.

  Men and women of every social status used the streets as their own; children raced between them, carrying items or messages.

  With a deep breath that tasted of salt and cold and unwashed bodies, Sarina boldly stepped around the corner as if she had every right to do so. She looked neither left nor right, but tried to keep the more undesirables in her vision. Despite the care with which she dressed, Sarina was well aware she dressed as a rich woman in a poorer side of town.

  But she made it to the building without incident. Taking another deep breath, now used to the smells of the area, Sarina entered the building and climbed the stairs.

  No secretary or clerk greeted her, and for a moment Sarina thought the men would be out to lunch as well. But then she heard Prescott’s voice and Liam’s answering laugh, and her shoulders relaxed.

  She started to call out, but a sudden mischievous part of her stilled the words. For a heartbeat she listened carefully, but heard no other voices. Sarina had a brief moment to wonder where her normal, sensible self had disappeared to before she stepped into the office.

  Liam saw her first. Though she’d heard his laughter, the look on his face eclipsed that mirth. He looked positively thrilled to see her—the blue of his eyes deepened, his smile widened, and before Prescott had turned to see her, Liam had already rounded the desk. His hand was warm on her cheek, his lips fast and hard on hers.