“Every day then.” She reached her hand across to slide it over his chest round on to his back and hold him close. The feel of his warmth against the whole length of her was wonderfully right, holding a promise of things to come. She remembered the night just passed, and sighed in contentment.
He replied with an “mmm” and moved closer to her. “How do you do that?”
“What?”
“Feel so exciting, and so perfect.”
“I didn’t know I did.”
“Oh my sweet, believe me, you do.” Putting his hand behind her head, he drew her to him for a kiss, long and sensual. “Darling Lucy. Marry me tomorrow.”
That made her laugh. “That’s impossible.”
“We’ll change our plans.” He raised himself up on one elbow and looked down at her. She didn’t try to hide herself. She didn’t want to, happy to give him pleasure. “I’ll go and find Sanders this morning and kill him. That takes care of that complication. Then I’ll go and get a Special Licence. We can belong to each other before nightfall.”
“Oh Philip.” she said on a gurgle of laughter. Then she sighed contentedly as he stroked her body, from her breasts down to the top of her legs, and back again. He used his hand to mound her breast and bent his head to kiss her nipple. She pulled him close, uttered a little “Oh!” of pleasure. He returned to kiss her mouth, and she felt his leg in between hers, pushing them apart. She complied delightedly, hearing his words, “Irresistible, delectable,” when he moved both legs between hers, and she drew up her knees to allow him access.
Arching her back she moved with him, kept her eyes open to look at him, see that look on his face that melted the flesh off her bones with desire. She wanted to blend with him, become one, so she would never have to be without him again.
He must have seen some of the same in her. “My darling, oh my love.” Although they were not the most original or poetic of phrases, was all she wanted to hear, in the tones she wanted.
Lucy called to him, held him tightly to her when she felt the crescendo of pulsating warmth, and this time he reached his climax at the same time, and they cried out together, wordlessly, helplessly. He drove into her one last time and she held him tenaciously, reluctant to let him go, but when he withdrew she reluctantly let him go, knowing it would be better for both of them. He was all she ever wanted to feel, and she prayed at that moment he would be the last thing she would know in this life.
She could have met her death with Geoffrey Sanders. She would be content if she met it with Philip Moore.
He drew back a little so he could kiss her, tenderly now the violence of passion was receding. “The next time I make love to you, I’ll have put a ring on your finger.”
“Oh Philip.”
“What is it, my darling?” He took his weight on his elbows but stayed where he was for the time being.
“I don’t want to let you go now, I love you - this - so much.”
He laughed shakily, kissed her again. “Not long. And I won’t leave you alone.” He seemed determined not to consider the alternative she had put to him yesterday, but she was content to let it be, and not spoil the moment. “If you truly love me, you’ll never be rid of me again.”
“I never, never want to be. I’m so glad you showed me what love can be, Philip, I might have grown to be afraid of it otherwise.”
“Wise Lucy.” He took her hand, held it close to his chest. “Brave Lucy, to have done what you did.”
She laughed. “No, not after you told me you loved me. But I wouldn’t have done it if I hadn’t been almost sure I loved you.”
“Almost?” He smiled. He could afford to smile now.
“I was still confused and upset by what Geoffrey did to me. I knew I felt something else for you, perhaps the shock of that - other thing made me realise it all the more. I don’t know, but I do know I love you, no almosts now.”
He took the hand he still held to his lips and kissed it. “I’ll make you happy, Lucy, I swear it.”
“I know you will,” she replied softly.
He bent and kissed her mouth. “I still can’t believe it. That you want me, that when I restore you to that world outside, you won’t treat me as you did before.”
She moved her head on the pillow, a vestige of a shake. “No, Philip. I promise. If I marry anyone at all, I’ll marry you.”
“Thank you.” He kissed her again and they looked at each other for a time, who knew how long, until he smoothed her skin one last time and sighing, turned away from her and got out of bed.
When he came out of the dressing room after his shave she watched him dress, taking more care than usual. The clothes he wore were his last clean set, and relatively uncreased. She watched her lover become a man of fashion once more; the neckcloth carefully tied and creased, the waistcoat and coat models of the tailor’s art. He turned to her. “Will I muster?”
“Not in your valet’s eyes,” she said with a smile. “But in everybody else’s.”
He laughed and came over to the bed for one last kiss. Holding her, he said; “I’ll have the things sent to you, go back to Grosvenor Square and come and fetch you later. About three or four, I think. Will you be all right here?”
“Of course.”
“But promise me you won’t go out. Now we have to resume our lives, I feel so afraid for you. I want to be with you all the time, so I can ensure you won’t come to any harm.”
“I promise,” she said dutifully. “But it will be a different life now, won’t it Philip?”
“Definitely.” After one more kiss he released her. She sank back against the pillows. “Jusqu’ à plus tard.” With only one backward glance, he left the room.
Lucy pulled the covers around her and settled down for a little more sleep.
When she awoke it was early afternoon, and too late, she realised she hadn’t got any means of telling the time now Philip had taken his watch with him. She got up and found something to wear. Of the three gowns she now had to her name there was one front fastening one that she could get into without help. She managed her stays by fastening them at the front and then turning them round before slipping her arms through the straps at the shoulders. Not the snug fit she usually preferred, but it would do to make her respectable. Even with the high waisted gowns currently fashionable, only hoydens and ladies with pretensions to high fashion dared to leave off their stays.
The gown was in dark blue, a sober colour, and very plain. The buttons fastening the garment at the front and the cuffs were its only ornament. Lucy pulled up the frills on her chemise to show slightly above the high neck of the garment. Then she sat at the little dressing table and brushed her curls until they shone; afterwards pinning them back into a more severe style than she usually affected. She put the brush down and looked at herself
Quite a transformation. The hairstyle threw into relief the smooth, fine skin, the delicate features, and the gown seemed to bring out the lighter blue of her eyes. She tried one of her favourite coquettish looks, but it didn’t seem to work as well in this get-up. Smiling at her own vanity Lucy turned away and picked up the newspaper Philip had left from the morning.
A slight grumble in her middle reminded her she had slept right through breakfast, and she determined to ring for some tea and bread and butter. Accordingly, she went to the door, only to be startled by the sight of a maid about to knock, with another behind her weighed down with parcels.
She came into the room and they put them down with relief. “Mr. Stanley said these were to be delivered here, and he’s bought a trunk for them too.” She looked askance at Lucy, who tried one of her favourite quelling looks. This one seemed to work as the maid left the room only to return with more smaller packages.
Lucy tipped the girls and then, left alone, went over to see what he’d bought for her. All the parcels bore the label of well known shops, but none of them were expensive, fashionable ones. She unwrapped the parcels one by one and laid the contents out on the bed.
> Philip had a very good idea about what a lady would need. There were chemises, stockings, night gowns, caps and slippers. Then there were plain under petticoats, and decorated over petticoats. She found she now owned six more gowns, two evening, two morning and two ball gowns, quite sufficient for a respectable girl of modest means. She smiled when she thought of the array of carriage gowns, riding habits, afternoon gowns and other things she’d left behind. He had chosen two bonnets and a hat, and seeing them, Lucy sighed for her own confections, now locked up in her house half a city and a whole world away. A spencer, a pelisse and a cloak completed the collection, with several plain pairs of gloves, the longest evening gloves barely reaching the elbows. No expensive Paisley shawls, but a pretty silk one, and a gauze scarf. Nothing was extravagant; nothing would attract the attention of a passing beau.
In another package, Lucy found brushes and toothbrushes, wash cloths and some soap. At home, she had an elaborate dressing case, containing silver topped bottles and holders for everything she could possibly require. Now she found a plainer, smaller box, the few items it contained silver plated, the glass bottles plain and unadorned.
The trunk arrived a little later, and Lucy was relieved to discover Philip had been clever enough to buy a second-hand one. A new trunk would have engendered all sorts of suspicions. She set to packing her new belongings away. Several times she was forced to unpack and repack, not being used to packing for herself, but it killed the time for her until the door opened again and revealed the face she wanted to see most in the world.
He had obviously been back to Grosvenor Square because under his plain cloak he was once again dressed as a man of fashion. He smiled at her look. “Myself again,” he commented wryly, striding across the room to take her in his arms. “I missed you so much.” he said when he had kissed her.
“Fool.” she chided gently. “It couldn’t have been more than a few hours.”
“I was afraid we might be discovered in these last hours. The landlady here is definitely suspicious now - I think she caught sight of my finery as I walked past, and no gentleman of modest means would look like this.”
“Why did you dress like that, then?”
“So I could take you to the Carmichaels as the Earl of Royston. We must go soon. I’m invited to dinner, to introduce you to them.”
She looked apprehensive, and he smiled to reassure her. “I’m convinced you’ll like them, my love. I feel contemptible as it is, deceiving them like this, but we have no choice. I don’t know if we could trust them not to gossip, and we’re better keeping the secret to ourselves.” She nodded in agreement. “And it’s not for long.”
“Not even a month.” He kissed her again. “Then we must revise our plans - one way or another.”
He had accepted it then; that she wouldn’t bear a child of Sanders’s who might inherit the Royston title. He smiled and touched her face with one careful finger. “But I mean to marry you, whatever else happens.”
She smiled in response. “Oh yes.”
He glanced over to where the dressing case sat on the bed. “Did you look inside?”
She had, but she hadn’t seen anything unusual, so she went over and sat on the bed. Looking at it, she saw a drawer she hadn’t noticed before in the base. It had a keyhole, but was open. He had bought her some trinkets, suitable for a lady of modest means. A coral necklace, a silver filigree set of necklace, brooch, earrings and bracelet, a gold cross on a chain, a plain watch, and a few other small items of little value, but pretty. She smiled as she laid them out on the bed and then, reaching to the back of the drawer, she found a small box.
This was something else; she knew it immediately. “A small token of my intentions,” he said softly, his words a caress. Lucy opened the box and stared at the ring, a half hoop of diamonds. She took it out, looked at it until he came over to join her, and slipped it where it belonged, on her left hand. “Oh, Philip.” Lucy was overcome at this solid token of what they meant to each other. She flung her arms around his neck and held him tight while she regained control of her sudden tears.
Gently he withdrew her arms a little and looked at her face. He drew a thumb under one eye. It came away wet. “Fool.” he said tenderly. “Didn’t you think I meant it?”
“I don’t know. I suppose it’s all been so confusing over the last few days. To be turned from such misery to such happiness - I think it might take me some time to get used to it.”
“I shall just have to keep on saying it until you do get used to it, then - I love you Lucy.”
“I love you too, Philip.” They lost a little time then.
Eventually he drew back. “But we must go. They’re expecting us.”
Chapter Fifteen
When Philip paid their shot at the inn Lucy thought the landlady eyed her with suspicion, but she couldn’t be sure. To be certain they couldn’t be traced from the King’s Arms Philip insisted they took one hackney to the nearby White Hart, dismissed it, and took another to their ultimate destination. Lucy was concerned when she saw they were travelling back in the direction of the West End, but relieved when they turned north. All the time she had her hand in Philip’s feeling his warmth. “They live in Red Lion Square,” he told her.
Not an address her mother would approve of, Lucy thought with relief. Perfectly respectable, but so far on the edge of the fashionable world it had long ago tipped over into the residence of City folk.
Red Lion Square was near Bloomsbury, and still boasted its private park in the centre, for which only residents held the key. Lucy looked around at the quiet square, the sounds of the city echoing beyond it, only the occasional horse and carriage disturbing its peace. Of course, mid afternoon was a busy time in her part of the city, visiting hours and time for shopping before returning to dress for dinner. She noticed it was nearly four o’clock when she consulted her new pocket-watch.
She gripped Philip’s hand once more before she released it so he could help her down. As they alighted from the hackney, the door to the house was opened from the inside. The hall beyond looked dark after the bright spring sunshine. Lucy glanced at Philip to see his reassuring smile and then they went up the shallow step, across the small portico that stretched over the area below and into the house.
There was a butler, and a lady, evidently the lady of the house, for she was dressed richly in a fashionable afternoon gown. Philip introduced them. “Mrs. Carmichael - Miss Moore.” Lucy bobbed her head in a small curtsey. She made it a little deeper than her first instincts told her, and when she looked up, she saw Mrs. Carmichael was smiling.
Mrs. Carmichael was a short woman, with pale blue eyes and dark Moore hair drawn back into a knot at the back of her head. She wore a gown of dark red silk, very fine, and a slim gold chain adorned her neck. Lucy sighed with relief. So much for the vulgar Cit of her imagination. The gown was perhaps a little too fine for the afternoon indoors, but the lady was the wife of a mercer - surely she was allowed to display the source of her husband’s wealth? “Delighted to meet you, Miss Moore,” she said, her voice bearing not a trace of the London twang. “I’m glad you could come and stay with us.”
Lucy smiled at her. “I’m so grateful you could have me. When my Mama said she would go no further at St. Albans, I thought I would have to return with her, but she insisted I try to come. Lord Royston was so kind to arrange this.”
“Yes indeed,” said Mrs. Carmichael. It was easy to see that she was assessing Lucy as she stood in the neat black and white tiled hall, and Lucy wondered what exactly she was looking for. Respectability? She was glad of her plain gown and hat.
A servant, a butler by the look of him, came forward and took her cloak, hat and gloves. Mrs. Carmichael studied Lucy again, seemed satisfied with what she saw for her smile was a warm one. “Is your aunt ill often?”
“Oh yes.” said Lucy. “Not really ill, if you know what I mean, but my Mama didn’t want to take the chance. She took the maid, and Lord Royston kindly sent his own chaise
for me. I’m so grateful for this.”
“Yes,” said Mrs. Carmichael. She shot a suspicious glance at his lordship, but his smile was bland and ordinary. “Do come upstairs and meet my daughters. My husband and son are out, but will be back for dinner.”
They went upstairs and into a comfortable, well used drawing room. Lucy, who was used to the frequent changes necessitated by high fashion in such a room, was amused to see the favourite items, sadly out of date, still taking their place there. The clock standing on the mantelpiece in front of the mirror would have been castigated by her mother as sadly out of the mode, containing as it did several pottery cherubs such as were all the rage a generation ago. The mahogany furniture was good, but not desperately fashionable and upholstered in a practical dark green. Lucy thought it looked comfortable.
Ranged about the room in chairs and sofas sat the daughters of the house. One by one they stood up to be introduced to Lucy, and she could assess them. Christina, the eldest girl looked to be in her mid twenties. She was possessed of kind brown eyes and a determined, slightly square chin. Her most prominent feature was her magnificent bosom, which the current fashion for high waisted gowns only served to emphasise. Her curly brown hair was cut fashionably short and arranged with a simple red ribbon. She shook hands firmly and Lucy responded to her sweet smile. “This must all be very confusing for you,” she said, in a surprisingly light voice. “I hope you’ll be content here.”
“I feel like a vagabond, arriving here without maid or footman.” Lucy confessed. “But my Mama was forced to take our maid home with her.”
“I’m sure we’ll be able to sort something out,” said Miss Christina. Looking at her Lucy was sure too. Miss Christina had the look of the practical.
Janet was the next girl in age, not much younger than her sister, by her looks. Her face was round, and her chin doubled, but she wore her plump figure well, and didn’t try to hide it. Faced with another magnificent bosom, Lucy began to feel quite inadequate, but was relieved to be confronted by one a little less ample in the next daughter.
Loving Lucy Page 13