by S. K. Yule
She was breathless by the time Weston released her and stepped back. The urge to stay and feel their hands and mouth on her again was near more than she could deny, but she did—barely. She opened the door and tiptoed to her own room down the quiet hallway dimly lit by the gray morning light. Once she was safely behind her closed door, she let out a long sigh. There wasn’t a place on her body that didn’t ache from being thoroughly loved. It was a delicious ache, an ache she wanted to feel again, an ache she never wanted to be without.
She closed her eyes and placed her fist to her mouth as emotions swamped her. How could she love all three of them? She couldn’t continue with this. Sooner or later their rendezvous would be found out by someone. Then, news would get to Bernard, who might even manage to get her locked away for being crazy.
Well, since she had to end it, she’d allow herself to fulfill one promise. She’d given her word to choose a winner for the bet. A smile played at her lips despite herself, as she wondered whether they’d be shocked.
After breakfast, she would have a talk with her men. My men. She giggled wistfully. What a wonderful and sad thought. The possessiveness and loss she felt reminded her of when she was a girl and found a kitten in the barn. She had instantly loved the kitten, had even named the fluffy yellow ball of fur Norton. Not long after she’d found her new pet, her father had informed her that her new best friend was promised to an acquaintance’s son. From joy, she’d gone in an instant to the bottom falling out of her tummy.
She sighed and glanced toward the window. The storm had passed sometime during the night. The real storm now raged inside her. She rang the bell for her maid. It was too wet for tennis, or any other outdoor sports. Most likely her guests would linger until after lunch, doing little but chatting or playing cards, and she must be on hand to entertain them.
In such tame circumstances, she wondered what her Trio of Trouble would do.
****
Lucy chose a simple light blue gown to wear, and her maid secured her hair in an elegant twist. When she went downstairs, Weston, Talbot and Courtenay were already lounging in the parlor. Her heart nearly missed a beat at the sight of her lovers. They were such beautiful men. She longed to feel their hands on her body again. Heat shot through her at the thought, and she lowered her lashes and gave them a coy smile.
“I thought you’d never come down.” Beatrice’s voice startled Lucy.
Lucy jerked her gaze to the woman and knew immediately that she suspected something. It was hard to stop herself from smirking at her rival.
“Why, Lucy, I didn’t realize you kept spaniels.” Beatrice arched one dainty brow at Weston, Talbot and Courtenay, dismissing all three utterly. Her eyes returned to Lucy as if to say, surely you can do better for a husband than one of those?
Lucy had to stop herself from telling her friend she was either blind or an idiot.
Seeing she’d hit near home, Beatrice smugly returned her glance to her own fiancé.
From the bland smile on Viscount Carrington’s face, he had no inkling of the undercurrents. The Trio did, though, and though Lucy saw Beatrice’s opinion of them couldn’t matter less to them, her shoulders sagged a bit. This is how it would be from now on if she continued her clandestine attachment to these men.
As she made small talk with her guests, she considered what Beatrice had said. Marrying one of them—if she could persuade one to wed her—would solve the Bernard problem. But The Trio of Trouble were best friends. If she married one, that would change, especially after last night. At best, her betrayal of the other two would strain their lifelong friendship. At worst, it would be destroyed.
The maid announced that breakfast was ready, and Lucy accompanied the Harrisons, the McDougals, Lord Hayward and The Trio to the dining room. She would not rest easily until she had settled this.
By early afternoon the only guests left were Beatrice, Viscount Carrington and The Trio. She had been sorry to wish Lord Hayward goodbye. She had enjoyed her brief talk with him and wanted to apologize for its abrupt end. She still hadn’t figured out what she’d said to cause his hasty departure, and she’d done something to offend him. She wanted the opportunity to apologize.
She wasn’t surprised that Beatrice had stayed. Beatrice was sharp, and Lucy wondered if she’d sensed there was something to snoop out. Whatever she did, she could not allow herself to hint by the slightest glance that her interest in The Trio amounted to any more than a hostess’s polite interest in her guests.
As she sat at the table once again, the succulent beef, new potatoes, and fresh vegetables could have been wood. She chewed the food, but it was tasteless in her mouth. Her thoughts drowned out her senses. She pasted on an artificial smile and grimly conversed as best she could, but it was sheer torture. She felt The Trio’s eyes rest upon her, and it heated her skin and enticed an ache of longing. But she knew what she must do. Her path was the only logical one.
After lunch everyone lounged in the parlor once again, sipping wine.
“This is wonderful claret, Lucy.” Beatrice purred.
“Isn’t it? It comes from Lord Weston’s and Lord Talbot’s vineyards.” Lucy swirled the dark liquid in the glass.
“Really?” Beatrice took another long sip, looking at Kendall and Paul as if there was more she wanted to say. Alarm filled Lucy.
No, she couldn’t go on this way.
“Beatrice dear, surely you must know that their wine and beer are as well known as their friend Lord Courtenay’s prized horses,” Lord Carrington said, patting Beatrice as if her arm were a roll of sausage.
Lucy shuddered. How could Beatrice endure it?
“After we’re married,” he added, “I must work at educating you on such matters.”
Beatrice scowled, but it served her right, Lucy thought, for choosing a fool. She glanced from Weston to Courtenay to Talbot. All day The Trio had remained oddly silent. She wondered if they were taking extra care to protect her.
“Yes, well, I will work to learn.” Beatrice stood. “Excuse me, please.”
The men stood until Beatrice left the room. Lucy thought she had gone to freshen up, but when twenty minutes passed and she did not return, Lucy became suspicious. What was Beatrice up to?
“If you will pardon me,” Lucy said, rising. “If you care for a cigar, you will find some in the top drawer of the desk. Please help yourself.” She smiled and left.
Chapter Eleven
After the previous night, Lucy would have said she was past being shocked. But the sight before her surprised the hell out of her, and that was saying it mildly. She hated eavesdroppers, but when she glanced through the doorway that led out to the garden, she froze. Beatrice stood under an arbor with Roberta in her arms. The women were kissing. It was no kiss between friends, either. The two women fondled each other with passionate abandon, as if they had done so a thousand times before.
Was this why Roberta never showed an interest in men? Lucy remembered Roberta’s show of displeasure the night before about Beatrice sleeping with Viscount Carrington. Now she understood it.
Lucy watched Beatrice cup Roberta’s full breast through the fabric of her dress. Roberta’s head fell back, and she moaned. Beatrice kissed her throat with a fervent sincerity Lucy would never have thought her capable of. With a small sound, Roberta fell to her knees and ran both hands upward under Beatrice’s gown. Beatrice lifted one dainty, booted foot and propped it on a nearby chair.
Roberta pushed the fabric to Beatrice’s waist, and Beatrice held it bunched in her hands, exposing her undergarments while Roberta found the opening in the drawers. Beatrice’s eyes were shut, and her chest rose and fell with her shallow breathing. Her face looked radiant. When Roberta leaned forward, pressing her lips to Beatrice, Lucy quietly retreated inside.
She leaned against the wall, holding her knuckles tightly against her mouth. Why hadn’t Roberta spoken of this? Had she feared Lucy would ostracize her? Or ask her to leave, perhaps, because of the rivalry with Beatrice?<
br />
But in this new light, that rivalry now looked very different. As girls, they’d been friends. But as they grew up, Beatrice had constantly tried to outdo Lucy, especially where men were concerned. Yet it had taken Beatrice almost as long to find a husband as it was taking Lucy. Now Lucy wondered if Lord Carrington’s attraction was the very stupidity she had thought so impossible. Perhaps Beatrice felt he would fail to recognize the truth. She took a deep breath and made her way back to the parlor.
Ten minutes later, Beatrice rejoined them. She practically glowed. Lucy felt stupid. Why had she not noticed such nuances before?
“Glad you decided to rejoin us.” Lucy struck up the old tone, not knowing what else to do.
“Yes. I was enjoying your lovely garden,” Beatrice said with admirable calm.
“Beatrice tends to get a little sidetracked on occasion. Don’t you darling?” Carrington patted Beatrice’s arm again.
“I only wish the garden were still in full summer bloom for you,” Lucy returned. “I believe Roberta, who enjoys it even more than I do, would have taken particular pleasure in showing you its delights.”
Beatrice’s eyes flew wide. Lucy returned a serene glance. So much for her fear of gossip from that quarter. If her old rival guessed anything, she’d protect Lucy’s secrets as carefully as her own.
“It’s been a charming time, Lucy. I wish we didn’t have to leave now.” Beatrice rose to her feet.
At once Carrington stood beside her. “Smashing party, Lady Lucy. Talbot, Weston, Courtenay, how very interesting it was to hear about your wines and those fine horses.” Viscount Carrington reached his hand toward them, each in turn.
Finally, Lucy was alone with The Trio again. She turned away, trying to compose herself to tell them she must part from them. She only hoped that if she explained her situation they would understand. She took a deep breath, preparing to turn and deliver her difficult news. Before she could let it out, hands caressed her back, her shoulders and her arms.
“I thought those two would never leave.” Courtenay kissed the nape of her neck.
“Whatever scared her away?” Weston stroked Lucy’s back. “What do you have in your garden? A lion’s den?”
“I caught her there with Roberta.” Lucy tried to make herself step away from them, but her skin tingled everywhere they touched her.
“Do you mean, caught her?” Talbot asked, delighted.
“Yes. I was shocked at first. However, sauce for the goose….” She was losing herself in their caresses. She had to stop, or it would be too late. Keeping her back to them, she moved a few steps away. “We must talk.”
“True.” She heard Courtenay step toward her. “I believe you owe us the name of the winner.”
Talbot’s hesitant voice stopped him. “I believe the lady is about to break our hearts.”
“Yes.” Lucy faced them, not specifying which comment she confirmed. Courtenay’s crossed arms, Talbot’s vulnerable look, and Weston’s frown told her this would not be easy. “For the winner, I choose all of you. You all win.”
“You can’t—”
“Yes, I can. It’s no longer a game, gentlemen. I’ve fallen in love with you. All three of you.” Going to Courtenay, she placed her fingertips against his cheek. “You, the dominant, demanding male, and yet so careful not to hurt me. You as I’ve never been possessed before. I love you.” She kissed Courtenay on the lips.
Next she went to Talbot and touched his cheek. “I wish I could listen to you quote poetry all night. You handle me with such care, but your touch makes me sizzle. I love you.” She kissed his lips tenderly.
Moving to Weston, she stroked his cheek. “Your honesty humbles me, and your passion fires my blood. I love you.” Sadly, she placed a kiss on his lips.
Lucy turned and crossed to the window. The rain had left behind an empty, overcast sky. Tears threatened to fall, but she didn’t want to cry in front of them. Her chest ached in denial of what she was about to do.
“Lucy, what are you trying to say?” Weston asked.
“Though I love you all, I cannot carry on as mistress to three men.” She choked back a sob.
“Why? Who gives a damn what people think?” Courtenay’s voice was laced with anger.
And hurt?
She turned to them again. “Not me,” she said fervently. “But I must—”
“We’ll find a way, Lucy.” Talbot quickly went to her and brushed a stray lock of hair from her forehead. “Earlier you were wrong, you know. You are not a plaything. You are unique. This may sound absurd, but you and we are kindred souls. Do you imagine we have ever shared before, or will ever again meet a woman we want to share? I, for one, will not let you throw away what the four of us have just discovered.”
“Nor I,” Weston said in a tone that mimicked his poetic friend’s eloquence.
A tear slid down her cheek, and Talbot rubbed it away with his thumb. Weston and Courtenay moved close to comfort her. Weston’s breath tickled her cheek, and even the anguish in her heart was not enough to keep the heat from spilling over into wetness. Courtenay grunted as he squeezed her tightly. They stood like that, arms around each other for several minutes.
Lucy took a shaky breath. “I have another confession to make. When you know my situation, I hope you will understand. Last night’s party was not a mere social affair. I must find a husband. My father’s will provides that I must marry by my next birthday. If I do not, my cousin Bernard will inherit Levegne Manor.”
“Not the sniveling bastard I caught pawing you in the library?” Courtenay’s nostrils flared.
“The same. Once I marry, Bernard poses no threat. But what of my husband? My father did not believe in the new laws that give a wife control over her own property. He gave my husband the final control. But the will makes no provision for male control once I’m widowed. Perhaps he imagined I’d be old and wise by then, with sons to do my thinking for me.”
Weston’s face cleared. “So that’s what those old geezers were doing at the party.” But his look became horrified. “You’d do like your friend Beatrice and marry some fool? Worse, a fool with one foot in the grave?”
“You must think me abominable, but I can’t bear to lose my childhood home. Especially to Bernard. Within five years he’d mortgage it or sell the land piecemeal to be turned into suburbs.” She shuddered.
“What’s the problem?” Talbot asked. “Marry one of us.”
It would be so easy to give in to them. She loved them. She wanted them. They must care about her at least a little, or they wouldn’t offer it. “I can’t do that to your friendship.”
“But Lucy, you don’t think I’d cut out Weston and Talbot, do you?” Courtenay growled. “Ridiculous!”
“You say so now, but marriage to one of you would change everything, and you know it. Now you understand why we can’t continue with this. So please, just go. My strength to resist you is waning.” Tears streamed down her cheeks.
“Lucy—!”
“Go!” she sobbed.
She heard them leave the room and tromp upstairs. Collapsing in a chair, she pressed her hot forehead against its arm and wept. Finally, cried out but not eased, she wandered to the window and stared bleakly at the dull sky. Quiet steps approached the threshold, more than one set of them. Three, she guessed. She prayed for them to leave. She ached for them to stay. At last, the front door opened and then closed, announcing their departure. Her heart broke into a million pieces. She rested her aching forehead against the chill glass of the window pane.
“Are you well, Lady Lucy?”
She jumped at Lord Hayward’s voice. In all the hubbub, she thought he’d gone. Quickly, she wiped the tears from her eyes and turned.
“I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“Forgive me,” she said. “I didn’t realize you were in the house.”
“I wasn’t. I’ve taken a stroll across your fields. A most beautiful property. No wonder you’re so attached to it. Come, sit down. You loo
k exhausted.”
The same did not seem true of him as he took the seat she had occupied earlier, settling his magnificently carved cane against its arm. She hoped he wouldn’t feel how wet it was with her tears. As he’d asked, she went to the settee and sat facing him.
“What is wrong, Lady Lucy? Is it what you told me last night about your father’s will?”
“Yes. That and… other things. Sympathetic as Lord Hayward was, she could hardly tell him about her feelings for The Trio.
“I wonder if this might have something to do with a certain three gentlemen?”
Her eyes widened. Had she been so careless?”
“Please, please. Don’t be alarmed. You’ve been discreet. At least, you gave away nothing to me. I admit I’m not all that well-versed at reading women, but I heard no one else speak of it. However, I assure you I can read men perfectly. The fire in their eyes whenever they rested on you was enough to send the place up in flames.”
Lucy braced herself for his contempt. Now he would leave. Or worse, try to take advantage of a woman whose promiscuity removed her from any need for respect.
To her surprise, he smiled. She saw nothing in his eyes but kindness. “I also noticed they did not look altogether happy when they left. Did you have a falling out?”
“As usual, Lord Hayward, your guess is astute.”
“Call me Edwin, please. And let me make another guess. They wish to see you again, but must keep your reputation intact. However, you’ve fallen in love with one of them? Or perhaps it’s all three.”
She gasped. She hadn’t imagined anyone else could possibly understand.
“I am not judging you. Believe me, I’m in no position to. We’re all victims of our desires and feelings, aren’t we?”
“Yes,” she said slowly. “I suppose so. But I had to tell them goodbye. You know my reasons.”