Wallflower Most Wanted

by Manda Collins

  He did it again, this time stroking a finger over her opening, then plunging one inside. Then another. Judging by Sophia’s little cries of bliss, she was coming undone. And one more stroke had her crying out again and bucking against him in earnest again and again before she finally lay still and panting.

  Quickly, efficiently he got her out of her gown, and stockings and undergarments, and when she was lying naked before him, Ben felt his chest constrict at the sight. He had never, in all his life, seen a more beautiful sight.

  The eyes she lifted to him were drowsy with pleasure, but she raised her arms to him and he shucked off his breeches and went to her. Finally, at last, skin against skin.

  “It might hurt a bit,” he warned her, not wanting the realities of their joining to be a surprise to her. As she’d pointed out to Greaves, she deserved to make her own decisions based on the facts. “But I will do all I can to ensure it doesn’t last.”

  “I’m not worried,” she said with a smile. “I want you. I want this. Judging by what you just did with your hands, I cannot imagine you’re bad at it.”

  He sent up a prayer of thanks to his years before taking holy orders, where he’d learned quite a bit about bringing as much pleasure as he received. Sex, he’d always considered, was a gift from God. That he was able to share that gift with the woman he loved, was a blessing.

  “I’ll do my best,” he said solemnly, kissing her before he reached between them and pulled her knee up over his hip. Fitting himself against her, he pressed forward thinking of any distraction he could to ignore the hot, wet clasp of her body around his.

  Sophia was quiet, as if holding her breath, but he felt her hands clasp his shoulders as he stroked into her. And when he finally, blissfully, seated within her she gave a slow exhale. “No pain,” she said softly as they both adjusted to the feel of their joined bodies.

  Then, unable to control himself any longer, Ben began to move.

  Chapter 23

  Sophia wasn’t sure what she’d expected the act of love to be like. She’d, of course, learned long ago from naughty books found in her parents’ library, and a hidden book of etchings she’d found in the library here at Beauchamp House, what the act entailed. But none of that had captured what it would be like with Ben. With his careful attention to the way she responded to his touch, and the intense look of satisfaction in his eyes as he wrung every last gasp from her while he stroked her with his hands. It was more than anyone could capture on the page, and she was strangely giddy from the emotions it stirred in her.

  Now, in what should have been an embarrassingly awkward pose with him braced over her on one arm, she was instead filled with a sense of deepest elation and joy. But as he pulled out of her, and ever so slowly pressed back inside, she felt something else building within her. And her body began to move of its own volition, following him as he pulled away. This was something far more than simple release. As she looked into his eyes, hazy with passion, she felt the bond between them strengthen and wrap them in a cocoon where only they two existed.

  His kiss as he plunged into her was needy, desperate. And she answered him caress for caress, stroke for stroke. They moved together in a dance she knew was not unique to them, but it felt as if it was. As if they were the only two people in the world.

  And then she couldn’t think at all, as his every stroke ignited another small spark within her and she was lost in an explosion of desire, where every touch sent her higher into the flames.

  Then, as if knowing she needed it more than anything, Ben slipped a hand between them and touched that sensitive part of her above where they were joined and Sophia felt herself fly higher, like a firework she’d once seen at Vauxhall, shooting into the sky. Her body trembled with the euphoria of it and she was lost. Her body remaining below while her soul flew away into the ether.

  Some distant part of her felt his strokes quicken and Ben gave a throaty growl before she felt him stiffen against her. Then, he let out a long sigh and lowered himself on shaky arms to lie fully against her.

  It was a moment before she came back to herself. And she was surprised to feel that they were both a little sweaty. Idly she stroked her hand over his naked back as he continued to catch his breath.

  “I rather think that was better than advertised,” she said with a touch of wonder. The books in her father’s library had been rather flowery in their language and she found they hadn’t quite captured the truly world-changing effects of what they’d just done. “Someone ought to write a pamphlet.”

  Ben lifted his head, his eyes full of mirth and a hint of satisfaction she’d not seen in them before. He was more handsome than she’d ever seen him.

  “I rather think there are any number of pamphlets, my dear,” he said with a crooked grin. “They just happen to be more common among naughty schoolboys than young ladies of delicate breeding. Otherwise I’m sure you’d have seen them.”

  “Humph,” Sophia said unable to stop herself from ruffling his already disarranged curls. “I think it’s preposterous that young men are allowed to see such things and young ladies are kept in ignorance.”

  “It’s hardly something that’s encouraged among lads,” Ben said, moving so that she was in his lap and he wasn’t crushing her. “In fact, at school it was soundly criticized. But I take your point. I imagine a number of young ladies would know better how to protect themselves from randy young lads if they knew what the act entailed.”

  “I was thinking more along the lines of knowing just how pleasurable it can be,” she said with a sheepish smile. “Though there is sense in what you say as well. Either way, I wish I’d known before what I was missing.”

  He gave a playful groan. “So that you could be off doing this with other men?” he demanded, nipping her ear.

  “So that I would have done this with you sooner,” she said turning to kiss him. “It’s maddening to think of all the months we could have been doing that but were instead sipping tea and chatting about village matters.”

  Ben gave a laugh that was as carefree as she’d ever heard from him. Perhaps she wasn’t alone in the sense of euphoria their coupling had brought.

  “I am quite glad you’ve agreed to marry me, Sophia, otherwise there’s no telling what sort of wicked paths you’d lead me down.”

  “Yes,” she agreed. “I will make an honest man of you to keep your reputation from being thoroughly ruined.”

  At that they must have both recalled the earlier discussion with the bishop, because Sophia saw his smile fade and she knew her own had done so as well.

  “I know you said it didn’t bother you,” she said softly. “But will it bother you very much for the bishop to keep you from advancing?”

  He gathered her against him. There was a soft blanket hanging over the back of the settee and he pulled it over them both.

  “I want to marry you, no matter what the Bishop of Chichester has to say about it,” he said against her hair. “And the sooner the better.”

  She couldn’t help the little sigh of relief that ran through her. Sophia had been prepared to give him up, but it would have been difficult. Still, she didn’t wish to come between him and his calling. “You’re sure?”

  His laugh reverberated through her. “Sophia, do you know why and how I was called to the church?”

  “Well, no,” she said thoughtfully. “I suppose I just thought you … well, I don’t know.”

  He stroked a hand down her bare arm. “I knew from an early age that as the second son, I’d be destined for either the church or the army. It’s the tradition in the Lisle family. My Uncle Cedric is a celebrated hero of the Peninsular campaign, but another thing I knew from an early age was that I wasn’t cut out for war. And by the time I went to university, Napoleon had been defeated.”

  “So, you chose the church by default?” Sophia asked, puzzled.

  “Not exactly,” he said. “It was more a matter of suitability. You see, I was always drawn to helping people. Freddie and Arc
her are both good with people too, but neither of them is particularly—” he searched for the right word, “—driven to help them, I suppose you’d say. I cannot go through life ignoring the suffering around us, you see. I must do something to help. Even if my assistance isn’t necessarily welcomed, I’ll at least know I’ve tried. Given all that, when the time came to choose a direction at university, the church was the logical choice.”

  She was silent for a moment, her heart full of affection for this dear man who had so much love for humanity.

  He mistook her silence for censure, however. “I can see why that might be worrisome for you, I suppose. But I can assure you I would never neglect you, or our family for the sake of—”

  She lifted her hand to his face and pulled him down for a kiss. “Of course I don’t find it worrisome. What sort of monster would dislike the fact that her betrothed has a good heart?”

  “I didn’t think you were a monster,” he protested. “Just that it was maybe—”

  “Hush,” she said against his mouth. “You’re a dear man and I only hope I can live up to the example you set.”

  “I’m not a saint, Sophia,” he said with a frown. “Far from it.”

  “For which I am most grateful,” she said with a smile as she gestured to them lying together beneath the blanket.

  “I want to marry you sooner rather than later,” he said firmly.

  “And I want to marry you,” she said against his chest. “But I must solve this puzzle Lady Celeste has left for me first.”

  She both felt and heard his laugh. “Of course you do. And I wouldn’t think of pulling you away from it. I’m just as invested in finding Framingham’s killer as you are. And, in an odd way, I credit the conversation between Framingham and Morgan we overhead that morning on the cliffs with bringing us together.”

  It was true, she realized. They’d been drawn to one another before that. But it had taken that shared experience to thrust them together for more than the space of a few hours. “I dislike owing a debt to Peter Morgan,” she admitted. “But in this case there’s no way around it.”

  Then, realizing the late hour, they reluctantly dressed and though Sophia objected to it, he wouldn’t allow her to walk him downstairs.

  “You need to rest,” he said, kissing her nose. “And to get off your ankle.”

  She was loath to admit it, but he was right. It was also likely a good idea not to be seen by the household escorting her lover to the door looking as if she’d just been tumbled. “Fine,” she agreed. “But tomorrow we must go see Ryder. It’s time for him to admit his role in this.”

  At that he looked troubled. “I don’t disagree, but tomorrow I have to go to London.”

  “Why?” she thought they’d just agreed that finding Framingham’s killer was important.

  “Because I need to get a special license,” he said frankly. “We will concentrate on the murder of Framingham when I get back in a day or so. But I will not allow you to face any unnecessary censure as a result of your relationship with me. If that means we marry in haste, then so be it. And since the Bishop of Chichester is not particularly pleased with me at the moment, I will instead go to the Archbishop of Canterbury, who happens to be a friend of my father’s.”

  She blew out a breath of frustration. She could argue, but she knew he would win. One thing she was becoming keenly aware of was that Ben Lisle would do whatever it took to protect her. “I suppose it can wait until you return,” she said with a shrug. “I can look into the paintings a bit more too. Perhaps find out where they ended up.”

  He looked concerned. “Do not put yourself in danger,” he said. “Please promise me.”

  As if to emphasize his words, he pulled her to him for a quick kiss.

  “I promise,” she said, pulling away before they got carried away again. “Now, shoo or your father will suspect me of kidnapping you for ransom.”

  He rolled his eyes at that. “I rather think he’ll suspect we’ve been up to exactly what we’ve been up to,” he said wryly.

  Sophia felt her eyes widen. “I certainly hope not!”

  She heard his laugher echo as he strode off toward the stairs.

  Left alone in the studio, Sophia collapsed onto the settee and stared off into space.

  She was going to marry a vicar, she thought with a grin. Did wonders never cease?

  * * *

  The next morning, after seeing his father off on his trip to visit Cam down the coast, Benedick packed a few things for a short trip into London and set out. It was only a day’s journey by horseback and he arrived in town that evening exhausted but determined to meet with both the archbishop and the Earl of Mainwaring.

  As he’d traveled, it had occurred to him that Mainwaring hadn’t given Freddie the entire story about the forged paintings. Lady Celeste’s letter to Sophia, along with the list of paintings that were lost in the Channel crossing, had made several things clear to him. First, that it was likely someone in the government had known from the start that the forgeries were—not coincidentally—copies of items from that list. And secondly, that Mainwaring had known, somehow, of Ben’s friendship with Sophia and hoped to capitalize on it to find out what Lady Celeste had known about the forgeries. There was no way that the Home Office could have foreseen that he and Sophia find themselves betrothed, of course, but they were in the business of using connections to learn information.

  The way the earl had used Freddie’s relationship with his brother to bring Ben into the investigation was a prime example of that.

  If it was the case that Mainwaring had known just how much danger Sophia would be in as a result of her connection to Lady Celeste? Well, Ben would have a few choice words for the man. He had no issue with putting his own life on the line, because he’d made the decision to take part in the search for the forgers knowing the risk. But Sophia’s position as one of Lady Celeste’s heirs was not something she could choose. And as the only painter in the quartet, that meant she was automatically at risk from the men who had undertaken the scheme to fake the paintings that Lady Celeste’s father had lost. She was the one most likely to recognize a forged painting when she saw it. And she was the one most likely to receive some word from Celeste about the forgery scheme.

  After a bath and a change of clothes in his rooms at Pemberton House, the ducal mansion in Mayfair, he set out for the Mainwaring townhouse.

  From the line of carriages leading up to the front entrance, and the lights blazing from the townhouse windows, Ben knew at once that the earl and countess were entertaining. His mother would be horrified to learn he intended to show up without an invitation, but given the closeness of the two families, and the importance of his errand, he ignored the niggle of guilt he felt.

  Fortunately, he’d brought and worn evening clothes, so when he presented himself to the butler it was only with a slightly raised brow that the man escorted him to Mainwaring’s study to wait for the earl, who was currently with his guests in the drawing room.

  It took only a few minutes for Mainwaring, looking not particularly surprised to find Ben in his study, to arrive.

  “Ben,” said the earl as he stepped inside and shut the door firmly behind him, “I might have known you’d come to beard me in my den at some point. Freddie told me you would have more questions about this forgery business.”

  The men shook hands and Ben noted that since his marriage, the earl had lost the restless look he’d once worn like a second skin.

  “Freddie knows me too well,” he responded once the two men had taken seats in the high-backed leather chairs that ranged before the fire. “And, of course, he can’t have known at the time that Lady Celeste Beauchamp and her heirs would be so important to your investigation.”

  To his credit, Mainwaring didn’t pretend to misunderstand the implication of Ben’s words. “So you’ve discovered the list of paintings Lady Celeste’s father lost in the Channel?”

  “Miss Sophia Hastings found the list,” Ben corrected.
“Which you suspected would happen, I think?

  A slight shrug lifted the earl’s shoulders. “I knew from both the Marchioness of Kerr’s and the Duchess of Maitland’s experiences as Lady Celeste’s heirs that there was a good chance Lady Celeste had left some sort of puzzle for Miss Hastings as well. It stood to reason that it involved the forgeries she’d been investigating for us before her death.”

  Ben blinked. “What did you say?”

  “Don’t tell me none of you has realized yet?” Mainwaring gave a soft laugh. “Given the sheer degree of intellect shared amongst the four Beauchamp House heiresses alone, I would have thought someone would have made the connection. Lady Celeste was one of ours.”

  It made a mad sort of sense, Ben realized, thinking over the events of the months since Lady Celeste’s death. She’d left a series of quests for her heirs to investigate. Her own murder, of course, was personal and the perpetrator had had reasons for wanting her dead that had nothing to do with her work for the government. But the quest she’d sent the Duchess of Maitland on, and the task she’d left for Sophia, were both of interest to the Home Office.

  “Did you know she’d left these bits of unfinished business for her heirs to deal with?” he asked carefully. If Maitland had knowingly allowed the Beauchamp House heiresses to put themselves in danger without guidance from the Home Office, he wasn’t sure how he’d manage to keep his opinion to himself—longstanding family friendship or no.

  “God no!” Mainwaring looked insulted at the very idea. “Celeste made those mad decisions on her own. I did guess that there were more to come after the business with the Duchess of Maitland, and so I sent Freddie to involve you before Miss Hastings got too heavily mixed up in this forgery business. Celeste was the one who realized they were using the list of her father’s paintings, and so I left it to her to locate the major players. But she died before that could happen. She collected a few of the forgeries, but was unable to learn who was painting them. We’ve had our eye on Morgan, of course.”