Though there’d been a hitch in proceedings, he still could, she thought with a fizz of exultation as she sank onto her dressing table stool, reflecting on the fact that she had all the joy she could wish for ahead of her while Madame Zirelli had only a dried up future to look forward to and a daughter she could never acknowledge.
Just up the passage, Justin lay sleeping. He’d been crushed by her disloyalty earlier that evening, but Cressida had to think past that to all the ways she could atone.
Two hours ago, Madame Zirelli had seemed the incarnation of the evil that could come between a husband and a wife. Now Cressida had to acknowledge the huge debt she owed the woman.
And act on it.
Quickly and with mounting excitement, Cressida tidied her hair and dusted a discreet veil of powder over her heated face. Her body pulsed with the knowledge of the power it soon would yield, and in her haste to complete her ministrations, she knocked the writing desk from her dressing table with her elbow.
It crashed to the floor, breaking apart and spreading pages to the far corners of the room.
Cressida crouched and quickly tidied them, the words blurring before her eyes. There was no point in reading them. Perhaps she never would. Justin could discreetly return them, for Cressida understood too well now the bleak history of a woman who’d been stripped of her one true love, her child—a sorrow compounded when she’d become a victim of sexual exploitation and finally, with no family support, had carved out a life for herself against the odds.
Hurriedly, she placed the pages in the remains of the little writing desk. A single folded letter sealed with wax had fallen to her seat, which she discovered as she was about to sit down, and when she picked it up, the wax seal disintegrated and the letter unfolded before her eyes.
She saw the name Sir Robert and the familiar name of her old friend, Annabelle Luscombe. “Sir Robert,” she whispered aloud. Madame Zirelli’s old love?
Without thinking what she was doing might be wrong, Cressida carefully smoothed the letter, sat down upon the chair and began to read.
My dear Mariah— Sir Robert began—a familiar greeting, even after so many years, for, if what Madame Zirelli had said, she’d not seen him for nearly twenty.
Cressida tried to remember what she knew of Sir Robert. He was married. He had children, she thought. Though his had once been a name with which she’d been familiar, she’d not heard mention of him in years.
I do not know if this will find you, or indeed where you are or whether you are married. I was saddened at news which filtered through to me in Basle, where I’ve lived the past sixteen years, of your divorce, but I hope you have found the happiness you deserve.
Throughout the fifteen years of my marriage, I have thought of you with great fondness, hoping that life has treated you well. I have been living abroad, returning only recently after my dear wife, Lucille, died, and indeed I’d not have risked stirring up the past, Mariah, were it not for an occurrence some weeks ago which begs for clarification if I am ever to sleep easily again.
It is difficult for me to write this, but I have no choice for if—as I believe—I have been in ignorance these past nineteen years, then you have carried a terrible burden.
Several weeks ago, I attended Lady Sommer’s ball where I chanced upon a girl who bore such an astonishing resemblance to you that I cried out to my friend, “Who is that young woman?”
“Don’t you know your own niece?” he told me. “Your sister’s child, Miss Madeleine Hardwicke. She is to marry Lord Slitherton in six weeks.”
In the intervening sennight, I have pondered the matter and my disquiet has not abated.
Mariah, you cannot know how distressed I was at our enforced separation and the lengths to which my parents went to ensure I remained at Oxford rather than rush back to see you when I heard you’d been engaged as a governess in Dorset.
As you did not reply to my letters, I did not persist, thinking you wished to close that chapter of your life.
It is strange, returning to England after sixteen years to find both my parents dead, and soon to follow them to the grave, my older sister, whom I feel I never knew, the mother of a child she believed she could never have. I have so many unanswered questions.
Perhaps you have some of the answers. Nothing would gladden my heart more than to meet with you again, so we may discuss all that happened so many years ago.
With fond memories,
Yours ever, Robert.
Cressida dropped the letter. Madame Zirelli’s kindness toward Cressida had stemmed from a genuine wish to supply her with the knowledge to control her own fertility, because it was this lack of knowledge that had ruined her own life.
Ruined, because she’d been stripped of a child she could never know.
Tonight Madame Zirelli had learned that Miss Madeleine Hardwicke was the daughter she could never acknowledge. In three days, Miss Hardwicke would marry the aging peer, Lord Slitherton.
Cressida refolded the single sheet of vellum and tapped the table with it, unable to dismiss the uncomfortable knowledge that the wedding would be as decidedly lacking in joy for Madame Zirelli as it would be for Miss Hardwicke. And poor Miss Hardwicke would have to live with the consequences for many unhappy years to come.
Slowly, Cressida rose, tossed back her head and studied her face in the looking glass.
She could not think of Miss Hardwicke now. Cressida had other priorities. No, poor Miss Hardwicke and her unhappy state of the heart would have to wait.
But maybe, just maybe, she thought as she pinched color into her cheeks and bit her lips, she could unite some unlikely forces and give the ton something to really get excited over. Something that would advance the cause of womanhood, for a change.
* * * *
“Cressida!” Justin, billiard cue in hand, jerked round as Cressida pushed open the double doors to the games room and stepped inside. A nervous tic pulled at the corner of his mouth as he regarded her through black eyes shadowed within cavernous sockets.
Cressida felt as if her heart were torn asunder. Her poor darling had been pacing the house like a caged beast, tormented, since she’d all but cast him out without a hearing all those hours ago. She tried to banish her guilt quickly with the knowledge that she had the power to bring the joy back to both their lives.
“You don’t have to explain a thing, my darling,” she whispered, advancing toward him until their bodies were almost touching. Warily, he watched her, still uncertain of her motives, clearly unwilling yet to take her into his embrace.
“Good Lord, Cressy. What are—?”
“Hush,” she whispered as she undid the buttons of his breeches and slid one hand into the slit to cup his balls gently. His instant erection, straining against her hand, sent a surge of satisfaction through her, and she stepped in to close the gap, pressing her lips to Justin’s mouth, which had pursed in surprise. With one hand on his shoulder and the other fondling his manhood, she kissed him deeply, her tongue darting inside to explore the cavern of his mouth, thrusting and tangling with his, bolstered by a confidence she’d rarely felt as she registered his excitement building in tandem with her own.
He dropped the billiard cue and stepped back, trapped between the edge of the heavy table and her body, which she offered up to him in anything but sacrifice.
“God, Cressy, I hope you know what you’re doing,” he croaked, somewhere, it seemed, between horror and wary delight.
“Absolutely,” she reassured him, lowering herself to her knees and gently easing his engorged cock out of his breeches. Her eyes widened. God, now that she could actually see it in the light, it was huge. She’d never seen it like this before—face-to-face, as it were. So this was the power he wielded with such devastating results…under cover of darkness in the bedroom, beneath the counterpane.
The blood was pounding in her ears as she grasped her husband firmly by the root and gently circled the tip of his manhood with her tongue, pausing to laugh softly when
his whole body stiffened, his whisper both shocked and delighted as he muttered, “Oh my God, Cressy, you are full of surprises.”
Cressida raised her eyes to slant him a sly smile. “While looking for you, I stumbled upon a tableau not meant for the eyes of a lady.” She thought a moment, adding, “And yet I think we were all ladies at Mrs. Plumb’s, and most of us were looking for the same thing.”
At his momentary frown, she clarified in a low whisper, “Ways in which we might combine pleasure with power.” She stroked his shaft then kissed it with great tenderness as she continued to smile up at him. “You surely will not blame me for putting to good use the lessons I learned as I searched for the truth you’d been keeping from me, dearest? For I’ve come directly from Madame Zirelli. She told me why you were there, and you’ve no need to worry I harbor the slightest doubt about your constancy. We’ll talk later,” she soothed. Any reply of which he might have been capable was truncated as she took him deeply into her mouth, sliding her tongue around the base of his engorged member, her whole body tingling with excitement, power and anticipation at his responses as she licked and suckled.
His hands tangled in her hair as he threw his head back, his face a mask of ecstasy. “You are exquisite,” he groaned, his breathing tortured as Cressida built up the tension with her tongue.
It was all so new to her, and all so wickedly exciting. She could afford to be as tantalizing as she wished, for she had precautions and she had knowledge. A week ago, this hugely important aspect of her life, the foundation of her marriage, had been mired in dark, swamp-like ignorance.
While Justin moaned his pleasure, Cressida could provide him with all he could want of a wife, fulfilling her conjugal side of the contract. With interest. It was exhilarating, and it was just the beginning.
“And now it’s my turn,” she whispered when she felt him nearly at the cusp. She wanted this moment to confirm their sexual life would never be the same. Still holding him with one hand, she hastily retrieved the French letter from the reticule at her knees and slipped one of the strange sheaths onto him, just as Madame Zirelli had shown her, easing it on, stroking and massaging him. He was shocked at first, but he understood, throwing himself into the game with as much enthusiasm as she’d hoped. His desire matched her own, for her womb throbbed with want and she was wet and desperate for him by the time she rose to her feet, twisting in his grasp so she had her back against the table.
She did not have to say the words that had been forming on her breath—Take me here. Her actions conveyed their own eloquence, and now it was Cressida’s turn to throw back her head and gasp as his hands encircled her waist and he lifted her onto the table, moving in to take her ankles and wrap her legs around his waist.
Breathless, panting and excited, they both grappled with her full, heavy skirts, hoisting them to her waist.
She wanted no preliminaries. She was clear about that, her lust too advanced, her desire too urgent. She needed to feel herself full and hot with him thrusting deep inside her. She wanted him to lose himself in her as he’d done when they were lovers as much as newlyweds, and the consequences were a bonus, not a bane.
She wanted to reclaim him.
With her arms supporting her weight, she opened heavy eyelids as Justin pushed into her, first with tentative exploration, for it had been so long since they’d done this, then with serious intent as he picked up the pace with smooth assurance. She sucked in a sharp breath as she closed her eyes, thrilling at the memory of Justin’s expression, glazed with passion.
It came naturally. She moved with him as he ground his hips against hers, and her mind inhabited a different plane, it seemed, while she immersed herself in the moment, her body a mass of heightened sensation. As important as the physical was the knowledge that she had all but claimed back what she’d thought she’d lost.
He came with a shudder, his body convulsing over hers, and she wrapped her legs even tighter around him and thrust her own body forward to clasp his head to her chest.
“My God, Cressy,” he groaned, “I had no idea how much I’d missed this. Please forgive me…for everything.”
Cressida just held him, satiated and full of joy, her husband still inside her. Justin had just made love to her for the first time in ten months—and she was not left with the fear and uncertainty of another pregnancy. They’d thrown themselves into bringing pleasure to one another with the joyful abandon that had characterized their early marriage, yet, with all they knew of each other, and their confusion and mistrust laid to rest, it had been even better than it was eight years ago.
“Oh, Justin, it was nobody’s fault, and it was the fault of both of us, but Madame Zirelli opened my eyes when she told me everything.”
They slid to the floor, embracing upon the thick wolf skin, stroking and kissing each other as renewed sexual desire quickly pushed aside post-coital lethargy. She noticed Justin had unsheathed himself but that he now had his own contraceptive between his fingers.
“Please…let me do that.” Cressida shifted position to take charge, the wondrous sense of power growing again as she felt her husband harden at his touch.
“Cressy, you don’t have to. Are you quite sure—?”A skillful squeeze stayed his objection, though instead of caging her body once more with his, he lowered his head to look her in the eye.
“Cressy, I had no idea the reason for your reluctance these past months was fear of another child.” He drew her across his lap so that he was looking down at her, his eyes clouded with guilt. “If I’d only known—” He cleared his throat. “If I’d only had the mind to think beyond my own pleasure and to consider what it might be like for you to face a potential confinement each time we did this, we could have been so much happier.” Gently, he stroked her face, and love and gratitude for the husband whose heart she’d been so fortunate to win swept through her. His voice gentled. “I’m so sorry for what I’ve put you through, when you had no one to turn to.”
“Hush.” She touched his lips with her forefinger. “We both should have voiced what was in our hearts, but let’s not talk about that now. We’re back where we should be.”
He smiled as he drew her to her feet. With his hands resting gently on her shoulders, he walked her backward until she was up against the billiard table. “Now you are my captive, my sweet,” he whispered with a smile as he gently stroked her bottom and flanks. “There are a multitude of means to prevent another baby, Cressy”—he nibbled her ear, making her shiver—“and as I intend we talk candidly about our desires for each other and whether or not to increase our family, rest assured that in future you can leave all such related concerns to me, and I will not let you down. In the meantime, just enjoy the feeling of being loved. For indeed, you are.”
“Oh, Justin, I do love you,” she whispered, cupping his chin and nuzzling his hands, which rested lightly on her shoulders, adding quickly before he closed the gap to kiss her, “I’ve been to a place no lady would go, but what I’ve learned has liberated me.”
“You don’t feel tainted? Shocked?”
“I have been shocked. Very shocked!” She closed her eyes a moment, recalling the rapture on the faces of Ariane and Wentworth, the couple whose five-year marriage could not be made public but who’d clearly found ways to bring pleasure into their union. The license they allowed each other was not something she or Justin would contemplate for a moment in their own marriage, yet could she condemn others for finding satisfaction that did not impinge on the well-being of others?
“If I had been honest with you from the start about what I was doing there, you’d have been protected from the evils that were thrown in your face.”
“I’m not sure I would wish it any other way, Justin.” She crinkled her nose. “For one thing, I learned from Madame Zirelli how much I love you.” She paused, weighing up her words. “I also learned what a world of loving there is to be had.”
When Justin frowned, inviting elaboration, she was surprised at the wicked chuckle
that escaped her lips and the unconscious ease with which she wriggled her body against him.
He cleared his throat and raised an eyebrow. “Would you like to show me?”
At Cressida’s awkwardness, he chuckled. “No? Well, then, allow me to introduce you to a world of unknown delights, my darling. We are not restricted to the positions we’ve already tried, you know.” He fixed her with an inquiring glance. “Or perhaps you would like to take the initiative?”
Cressida started to shake her head, but his burning gaze ignited a flame of courage in her breast. Why should she not?
His breath was hot and inflammatory on her neck as she turned, emboldened by his words, pushing her bottom against his groin and gripping the billiard table. He’d pleasured her from behind earlier without consummating the act, and she’d enjoyed the sensation enormously.
“Another of your fantasies you’ve not divulged to me until this moment, Cressy darling?” His hands shimmied up her thighs as he raised her skirts for unfettered access, and she gasped as if experiencing his touch for the first time.
“I kept a tight rein on my fantasies, darling, when I thought of the consequences.” With a shudder, she closed her eyes as his hands cupped her sex. She moaned softly when she felt the trickle of her own moisture slide between her legs as his fingers massaged the slick nub of her desire. Instantly, her anticipation was on a par with his. She sucked in a quick breath and managed to grind out, “Your old friend has tutored me in what every mother should tutor their daughter, if she wishes happiness for her… Oh God,” she whispered urgently as he slid inside her, entering her from the rear before withdrawing in a series of even, regular strokes.
Sweat beaded on her forehead and upper lip, and she clenched her teeth as her whitened knuckles held their grip on the billiard table, and her breath came in short, staccato bursts as the tension within her grew.
Until, at last, with a gasp of rapture, Cressida’s desire reached its pinnacle, her world blackened to a haze, and her body convulsed in a series of uncontrollable shudders.
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