“The men seemed to enjoy the sensation while you appear in agony.” She peered down at him. “Is this not giving you pleasure?”
At that moment the carriage jostled over the rut in front of his house. The carriage and all its contents followed the downward path of the wheel before the heavy metal springs compressed to absorb the jolt and return the carriage to its normal position.
Lusinda’s body followed the downward path as well, impaling herself on Locke’s upright and begging member. Her high-pitched yelp combined with his blissful groan as the carriage rocked to a stop. She collapsed against his chest. His arms still bound at his side, he couldn’t wrap them around her as he wished. He was still fist-tied, as it were, buried deep within her, and still at her mercy.
“Lusinda,” he said as gently as his heavy breathing allowed. “I need you to lift the latch over my shoulder, so I can speak to the driver. Can you do that, love?”
She turned her face up to his. The tears glistening at the corners of her eyes tugged at his heart. Already he could feel a thick warm wetness leaking from her body onto his. He didn’t need to see it to know it would be tinged with blood. Her blood. The evidence shone in those tear-rimmed eyes.
“I know it hurts.” He kissed her forehead and nuzzled her with his chin. “We’ll see if we can do something about that, but first, let me send the driver around the block so we can have a few private moments together.”
She reached above his head and held the latch open while he yelled up instructions to Fenwick. The carriage jerked forward and she curled back against his chest. My God, what had he done!
“Could you do one more thing for me? Could you unfasten one of these sleeves and hold it steady?” He extricated his arm. “That’s it.” He wrapped both arms around her back, pulling her close. “I’m sorry. Had I realized this would be your first time, I wouldn’t have allowed—”
“You thought I was wanton?”
He pulled her head back down to his chest. “I thought you were wonderful.” He kissed her head. “I think you are magnificent. The next time our passions carry us away to commit such a rash act, I promise...” He hesitated. Would there be a next time? Or would she despise him for her ruin? He wouldn’t blame her if she did. He was the experienced one. He should have known better.
“Now that the damage has been done, I would that you experience the pleasure that follows the pain.”
“This is not pleasurable,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Had I known...” He stopped his discourse about how it would have been different had he realized she was a virgin. What good would those words do now? Was there anything he could do to make right the harm done to her?
You could marry her. As quickly as the thought appeared, he dismissed it. Giving her his last name would probably expose her to more danger than letting her go alone. He couldn’t do that to her, not to Lusinda.
“Sssh now,” he murmured as he stroked her back. “The pain will pass. After a warm bath and pleasant night’s sleep, you’ll look at all this differently. I promise. This may have been a rash act, but once—”
She bolted upright, and he retracted from the fiery gleam in her eye.
Eleven
“YOU BELIEVED THIS TO BE RASH? Ill-considered?”
“Don’t tell me you intended for me to take your maidenhead.” He had thought she was merely playacting what she had seen others do. Certainly she couldn’t have planned the timing of that jolt to the carriage caused by the wheel rut, could she?
“That act is generally reserved for husbands, and I’m certainly in no position to fulfill that role.”
He could still see hurt reflected in her eyes, though in truth, he didn’t know if the pain came from her lost innocence or from his words. Damnation, if he had thought the girl was an innocent, he wouldn’t have allowed things to go this far. But how was he to know?
“I should advise, for the sake of your future husband, that a coupling such as this often results in pleasure, not pain. Generally, caution is taken on a woman’s first time to proceed gently. Had I known—”
“You encouraged me,” she accused.
“Good heavens, woman, you dash about London with nary a stitch. What’s a man to assume? You display a confidence and sensuality only known to an experienced woman. And then, of course, there’s the matter of those kisses. I’m only human, Lusinda, a man can only...”
She stared at him aghast, then lifted herself from his lap and pulled her coat tightly around her.
“Lusinda, you know the nature of my business. As desirable as marriage to you might be, it is not something I can afford,” James pleaded. Already he could feel the cold loneliness of his life before Lusinda creep back into his bones. “I explained when I encouraged you to move in with me how family could be placed at risk and used as leverage.”
“By your very words I can see that I can not be used as leverage against you.” She slid to the farthest end of the seat, lifted the shade and pressed her nose to the window.
“Lusinda...I...”
“I believe you have said enough.”
It was probably just as well. He couldn’t think of another thing to say. He just wanted her to look at him, understand that this was an accident, that he meant her no harm. The carriage wheel slipped into the familiar rut and rocked to a stop before a coded rap from Locke sent the driver round to the delivery entrance in the back. They left the carriage and hurried inside.
“I’ll collect my things,” Lusinda said, her gaze averted from him.
Panic slipped through him. “What do you mean?” He grasped her arm and spun her around to face him. “What things?”
“My clothes, the moonflowers... I can’t stay here.” She looked down at her toes, the widow’s jacket pulled tight around her unbound frame. He wanted to pull her into his arms, comfort her, but he suspected such an act would be misinterpreted.
“Lusinda, the damage is done. Your leaving will not change what has happened.” He raised a thumb to brush away a tear track, then tried to pretend that the bit of moisture on his thumb meant nothing to him. He gentled his voice. “It’s even more important now that you stay.”
“Why?” she challenged. “You’ve indicated by deed that you have no interest in me. It’s exceedingly obvious that I would offer little leverage to coerce you in any way.” She turned and began to dash up the stairs.
“What if there’s a child?” he called after her. Surely, she would recognize that she’d need his assistance if that brief moment in the carriage had resulted in conception.
She stopped her progress but did not turn around.
“A brief coupling, even one such as we experienced could result in a babe,” he said, hoping she’d turn around, hoping she’d reconsider. What if even now a baby, his baby, was growing inside her womb? The thought pleased him, resurrected yearnings that he hadn’t realized existed.
“How very like you, Locke, to have already anticipated the possible outcomes of our venture.” Her voice held a saddened quality, like that of a much older woman. His heart twisted. What had he done to her?
“Do not fear,” she said. “If a child comes from our actions this evening, no one will know that the babe is yours. That way it can not be used against you.”
“That is not what I meant,” he called, but she continued on her way up the stairs without a backward glance. Leaving him alone and empty once more, in a house that wasn’t his, with an objective he couldn’t hope to complete.
WHAT A FOOL SHE HAD BEEN. SHE could feel tears burning her eyes. She had let her emotions take precedence over her brain. Even as the tender flesh between her legs throbbed from the surprise encounter, she did not regret the loss of her maidenhead. She had come this far without anyone testing its existence; she had no reason to believe the next twenty-five years would not be more of the same. In truth, the experience taught her something she had maybe suspected—that the women at the Velvet Slipper were better actresses than the ones
on Drury Lane.
No, what hurt the most, the pain that had brought tears to her eyes was Locke’s reaction. How he quickly disowned any responsibility of their experience. He was only interested in her, it seemed, if she was one of the actresses at the Velvet Slipper. Once he’d discovered she was an honest woman, he physically set her aside, wanted nothing more to do with her.
Well, she’d have nothing more to do with him. That was certain. She’d given him her maidenhead, but he couldn’t have her self-respect. She pulled out her valise and began to pack her clothes. Aunt Eugenia would welcome her. She would know what to do.
And if there's a baby?
That, perhaps, was the most upsetting of all the things he’d said. Could it be true that such a brief intimate joining could result in a child? She placed her hands on her belly, almost as if she’d be able to detect movement if the seed had been properly planted. As much as she would love to have a babe to hold in her arms and watch grow, the whole process of childbirth scared her. Her mother had died while delivering Rhea and could have easily died while delivering Lusinda. A Nevidimi birth during a full moon had inherent risks. If her mother hadn’t found a blind midwife, she could well have perished delivering Lusinda. That’s what scared her. The possibility of an early death when she had so much yet to experience.
Like the pleasurable aspects of intimacy, a tiny voice whispered. She ignored it. If there were pleasurable aspects, she’d have to experience them without Locke.
She reached for the next item of clothing and picked up the colorful munisak, woven to mimic the shimmering colors of the desert. Tears moistened her cheeks. Why didn’t he want her? The man who didn’t turn away from her when she was in full-phase. A man who instinctively seemed to know her whenever she entered a room, whether he could see her or not. A man of great intellect and knowledge who managed to calculate risks and obstacles in a blink of an eye, but unable to calculate the extent of her feelings for him. That last thought pulled her up short. It was true. He was special to her. She had blindly fallen in love with a man who wanted her only for her ability to commit larceny.
She dropped the munisak to the floor, then fell on the bed to let her tears flow.
SHE WAS CRYING. HE COULD HEAR her sobs from the opposite side of her closed door. Each delicate sob echoed again and again in his heart. How could he have been so ignorant? How could he have been so blind? Lusinda was nothing like the doxies he was more familiar with. How could he have assumed...? And then after he’d insulted her respectability, he allowed her to think that he considered a possible pregnancy a threat to his well-being. He was a cad. He was worse than a cad. He knocked lightly on her door.
The sobs stopped, but no invitation was forthcoming.
“Lusinda? May I enter?”
There was no sound. He turned the knob, expecting to find the door locked, but the knob turned easily enough. The door even opened an inch...then slammed into the backside of a wooden bureau.
Best to give her some time, he thought. There’d be opportunity to talk in the sensible light of morning. If for no other reason than to plan their next mission. If the list wasn’t in Farthington’s safe, then it was time to visit the Russian ambassador. He walked down the short stretch of hallway to his own room. Yes, best wait till tomorrow.
But the next morning she was gone.
“OH DEAR!” AUNT EUGENIA WAVED a fan in front of her face with such ferocity, it threatened to straighten her pinned-in curls. “Oh my!”
Although she knew Aunt Eugenia would have some comforting advice to offer, she wasn’t expecting this dramatic reaction.
“Lusinda.” Her aunt bit her lower lip. “What I don’t understand is how Locke unintentionally took your maidenhead. That is generally not something one does by accident.”
Lusinda did not wish to go into all the details, especially her part in reenacting a tableaux from the Velvet Slipper. “There was some awkward positioning and an unexpected jolt, and, of course, there was the matter of the moon.” She reached for her cup of tea.
Her aunt nodded in sudden clarity. “You were in phase and he didn’t realize you were there. I suppose that could happen.”
It could? Lusinda looked at her aunt aghast. Of course, Eugenia didn’t realize Locke always managed to know where she was, in phase or out.
“You poor dear. Was it terribly dreadful for you?”
“Not dreadful... Not exactly...” she said, a bit wistfully. The moments before the “unfortunate accident,” as she had come to refer to it, were quite pleasant. In many ways, they would be worth repeating, especially if Locke was correct about the pleasurable conclusion of such activities. As Locke was generally correct, she had no reason to think this was not true. “But I was concerned about the possibility of being with child.”
“I suppose there’s always that possibility, but there’s no need to concern yourself over that now. What’s done is done, I’m afraid. You can’t very well un-slaughter the dinner roast.”
Lusinda cradled her cup of tea, accepting the wisdom of that philosophy, though wishing it had been phrased a bit less graphically.
“There is one thing, however, I am concerned about,” Eugenia said. “Will you be able to continue your, eh, business relationship with Mr. Locke? Or are we back in the recovery business?”
The last was said with a bit of a worried brow.
“Is there a problem, Aunt? Is Locke’s stipend not sufficient?” Lusinda asked.
“No, quite the contrary. We had so much capital in that regard that we are actually looking forward to winter this year. There will be new gowns to buy, and muffs. Rhea wants a pair of ice blades. Why even Shadow is getting plump and lazy. No, quite the opposite. I was concerned Locke’s stipends would stop unexpectedly. This house could use some repairs before the weather changes, and I’ve been thinking of expanding the garden.”
Lusinda was unsure how to answer. “We haven’t completed our original mission yet, but I don’t know if I can face him again.”
“He didn’t dismiss you then?” her aunt asked with a hopeful lilt.
“What are you doing back?” Portia stood in the doorway to the breakfast room, her hand curled in a tight fist. “This isn’t your home anymore.”
“Portia!” Aunt Eugenia scolded. “How rude! Apologize to your sister immediately!”
“Not until she apologizes to me for trying to steal my beau.”
Lusinda looked to Aunt Eugenia, who explained with a sigh, “That Mr. Ramsden has called every day since you last left.”
“That was only two days ago,” Lusinda said.
“That is plenty of time to fall in love,” Portia said dramatically.
“I have not heard him say that he loves you,” Aunt Eugenia observed.
“That is because you won’t leave the room when he calls upon me.” She glared at her aunt.
“With good reason.” Aunt Eugenia spoke beneath her breath, but Lusinda heard and understood. She was afraid Portia might accidentally compromise herself as well. That would be a tragedy as Portia, with their new finances, had the means to attract a suitably prosperous husband who would truly care for her. Portia wouldn’t have to worry about the timing of her delivery in connection with cycles of the moon. Portia had a reason to covet her testament to innocence, whereas Lusinda had not.
“It’s good you are home, dear.” Eugenia patted her hand. “Portia has persuaded me to invite Mr. Ramsden to dine with us this evening. I would have sent for you to join us, but now you are already here.”
The front door registered a fierce knocking. Portia’s face lit up like a candle. “That’s probably Mr. Ramsden now. He simply can’t stay away.”
A housekeeper, a newly acquired addition made possible through Locke’s generosity, entered the room to announce the arrival of a Mr. Locke. Turmoil swirled in Lusinda’s stomach. She knew she’d have to face him eventually, but she thought he’d allow her more time to compose herself.
“Would you like me to come with
you, dear?” Aunt Eugenia asked with a squeeze of Lusinda’s hand.
“No. I had best face him myself,” Lusinda said, though in truth she lacked real conviction behind her words. As she left the room she heard Portia behind her. “It’s not fair. She’s allowed to entertain without a chaperone!”
Lusinda smiled. The disparity in their ages meant nothing to Portia. She still believed Lusinda required a pristine reputation to be marriageable. However, a marriage proposal for Lusinda was unlikely under the best of circumstances...
That drew her up short. If indeed she carried Locke’s babe in her belly right now, that would most likely ruin Portia’s reputation, just as it would hers. It hardly seemed fair, but much in society wasn’t. She thought of the postcard she had received years ago and kept hidden in her bureau drawer. Perhaps it was time to ask Aunt Eugenia about the existence of Nevidimi in America. She could leave and start a new life and thus have no negative impact on Portia or Rhea. Surely America would be far enough away for Locke. She would miss Aunt Eugenia and Portia and...
Rhea. How could she leave her baby sister? As quickly as the thought arrived, she answered it to her satisfaction. She could take Rhea with her. Lusinda smiled. There, it was all solved. If it came down to disgracing her family, she would leave.
She paused in the hallway outside of the parlor and drew a deep breath in preparation for facing Locke. It would be difficult seeing him, now that she understood how little respect he carried for her, but she must be strong.
“This one is called a white-petaled nose-fluffer,” he said in authoritative tones. Just hearing his voice made Lusinda’s throat thicken.
“No, silly, that’s a daisy.” Rhea giggled.
“Not a nose-fluffer?” he said, astonished. “How about this one? I’m told it’s a rare pink stinky-soft.”
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