by Amelia Grey
Henrietta stopped, not wanting to go farther into the darkness of that night.
Blakewell lifted her hand from her chest, carried it to his lips, and kissed the back of her palm. His touch was comforting and reassuring. His grayish-brown eyes were dark with sympathy and concern.
“It sounds as though perhaps the coach went over an embankment? Is that what happened?”
She nodded and swallowed hard once again. “I will never forget the sounds of the horses screeching and screaming. There was terrible screaming from my mother and her maid. I heard wood splintering and cracking as the carriage broke apart, and then nothing. Nothing, but blackness and silence.”
“You were knocked unconscious?”
“I woke to rain hitting my face. It was dark, so dark, and I was so wet and cold. I started trembling, and I couldn’t stop. I called to my parents, but they didn’t come to me.”
Henrietta felt tears pool in her eyes, and then spill over and run down her cheeks. She didn’t want to cry. She hated crying from anyone. It was a weakness she never allowed herself, but now she was powerless to stop the tears from falling as freely as they had that black night.
The duke leaned forward and gently tugged on her upper arms. “Come sit here on the chair with me. Let me hold you.”
He scooted over, giving her enough room to fit beside him in the large wing-back chair. He drew her into his embrace. Heat from his hard body soothed and comforted her at once.
Henrietta stared into the flickering flame of the lamplight as her story continued to tumble out. “I lay there crying until first light, praying my parents would find me, but they didn’t. No one came for me. When I crawled to my feet and saw the chaos the wreck had caused, I started screaming.”
A sniffle escaped past her lips. Blakewell’s arms tightened around her. “I don’t know when I stopped. The coach had been completely destroyed, broken into hundreds, thousands of pieces, strewn over a wide area. The horses lay halfway up the embankment, as still as the people.”
“Your parents and the others?”
“I found my father first and tried to wake him. I shook him, but he wouldn’t wake up. And then I found my mother. Her eyes were open, but she wouldn’t respond to me. She was wet and cold. I hugged her close, but I couldn’t wake her.”
A heaving sob broke from Henrietta’s throat, and she suddenly was wrapped in the duke’s strong embrace. She buried her face in the crook of his warm neck and cried. Her body shook as she wept for the loss of her mother, her father, her guardians who might have lived longer if only the accident hadn’t happened, if only there was no curse on her.
“Cry all the pain out,” the duke whispered against her ear as he held her close. “I’ll hold you. I won’t let go of you,” he whispered.
“I hate crying,” she said between gulping breaths. “I hate fear.”
“Ssh, Henrietta, it’s all right to cry sometimes. It will make you feel better. And you don’t have to fear anything. You are safe here with me. Everything is going to be all right.”
Blakewell murmured reassurances to her as his hands ran up and down her back. She snuggled deeper into his strong arms. He was broad and powerful. She felt small, safe, and content in his protective hold. She wanted him to hold her like this forever. Her sobs quieted.
When her tears were spent and her sniffles silent, she raised her head and rubbed the last of the tears from her eyes. “I’m sorry, Your Grace. I had no idea I would still be so moved talking about the accident.”
He pushed a strand of hair away from her face and dried a streak of wetness from her cheek with the pad of his thumb. He gave her an understanding smile. “Don’t apologize for crying, Henrietta. It’s all right. There is nothing wrong in crying over the loss of your parents. That kind of hurt never goes away.”
With his good arm, he reached over to his desk, pulled a handkerchief out of his coat pocket, and gave it to her.
“Feel better?” he asked.
She nodded. “I’ve never been able to get that scene out of my mind. There was such a horrible jumble of brokenness. I started gathering the pieces of the carriage that I could carry or drag. I laid them out like pieces of a puzzle so I could sort them. I wanted to put the pieces back together. I wanted to make the carriage whole so everything would be right again.”
He wiped her damp cheek again with his fingertips. “So that is why you hate disorder. You are still trying to put the pieces of the carriage back together, still trying to make your life whole again.”
She put the handkerchief aside. “You would think that, by now, I would know that I cannot do that, but I’ve wanted to so many times.”
He kissed the tip of her nose. “Some lessons are hard to learn. I wish I could make the pain of the past go away as easily as you relieved my pain tonight.”
“You have helped me by holding me close. I have seldom been hugged or even touched since my parents died. Thank you.”
He gave her a reassuring smile. “I’ll have to remember that and hug you more often. Tell me, when you couldn’t wake your parents, you started gathering pieces of the carriage, right?”
She nodded.
“What else do you remember?”
“It was cold. I was wet. My hair, my shoes, my clothing. I kept moving, taking pieces of the carriage to one place. My mother looked so cold. I found a blanket that we had used in the carriage and covered her.”
“My heart breaks for you, Henrietta. What a frightful thing to have happened to any little girl. But I need to know more about Mrs. Goolsby. Was she the one who found you?”
“Yes.”
“That morning?”
“I don’t remember the time of day, but I glanced up and saw an old woman standing some distance away, looking at me. She seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. We just stared at each other for a long time. She was dressed all in black. When she walked closer, I could see she was very thin and her shoulders were hunched. She had sharp features and a pale complexion, and her eyes looked like small dark beads.
“I can’t remember every detail, but I know I walked with her back to her house. We climbed into an open carriage, and she took me to a man’s house. He questioned me about the accident. I told him my uncle’s name and where he lived. The man asked the old woman if she could keep me until they notified my uncle and he came for me. She agreed only after they offered her money for my care.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. So did you stay with her until your uncle arrived?”
“Yes. Mrs. Goolsby was a disagreeable woman, muttering to herself all the time. When we got back to her house, she took me upstairs to the attic and told me I had to stay up there because that was where the ghosts lived in every house.”
He brushed another errant strand of hair from her face. “That was cruel of her,” he said.
“She said I had been cursed, and she couldn’t have me living in her house or she would die, just as my parents had. I told her I wasn’t a ghost and I wasn’t cursed, that I was a girl. She laughed and said, ‘Of course you’re cursed.’ She took hold of my shoulders and shook me. Her long nails bit into my arms as she said, ‘I can see it in your eyes. That’s why your life was spared when all the others in the coach were killed.’”
“That makes her more than just a disagreeable old woman, Henrietta. That makes her sound like a wicked witch. How could that man, whoever he was, have left you in the care of someone so insane?”
“Perhaps he didn’t know her. I remember I tried to run away one day, but she caught me before I got out of the house and marched me back up to the attic. That’s when she told me that I would have many guardians in my lifetime, but none of them would be with me for long. She said that anyone who had charge over me would die before I left their care, just as my parents had died.”
“And you believed her?”
“I don’t think I did, not at first. But how could she have known I would have many guardians? My father’s will hadn’t been read at that time. A
nd it’s as if he, too, had some kind of premonition, or why else would he have named so many guardians? Mr. Milton told me it was highly unusual to specify that many guardians in a will.”
“I’m sure he just wanted his only child well taken care of, should anything happen to him, and you have been well cared for, haven’t you?”
“Yes, except for the short time I was with Mrs. Goolsby.”
“So she didn’t actually put the curse on you; she just said you were cursed?”
She looked deeply into his eyes. “Yes. It was so long ago, I’m sure I don’t remember everything exactly as she said it. I’m telling you the way I remember it.”
“I’m sorry you lost your parents when you were so young and in such a horrific manner.” He reached down and kissed her softly, briefly on the lips. “You never have to think about that old woman and what she said to you ever again.”
Henrietta inhaled deeply, loving the smell of him, the taste of him, and the feel of him so close to her. “But I do think about what she said, Your Grace. The curse is real, and my fear for your life is great.”
Without asking permission, he bent his head and kissed her softly on the lips again. “I want to erase any more thoughts of the past from your mind. Did that help?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
She wound her arms around his neck, reached up, and kissed him with all the passion and hunger she was feeling for him. The duke matched her kiss for kiss as he positioned her body so that she was pressed into the hardness of his lap.
He raised his head a little and his eyes questioned her.
Did she want more?
Henrietta’s lips found his in an instant. She opened her mouth, and his tongue darted inside to tease hers.
His lips moved smoothly, confidently, and effortlessly over hers, and she savored the sweet taste of wine in his kiss as her body melted closer to his. She was swept away with the new sensations twirling and curling inside her.
His hand slid down to her buttocks and cupped her against his hardness. His other hand slid up her waist to cup and caress her breasts. Henrietta gasped at the sheer desire that flooded her entire body. She moaned softly at the exploding pleasure filling her. It was as if she had been yearning for his magical touch since she first saw him.
Henrietta’s stomach, her abdomen, and between her legs tightened at the thrilling rush of need cascading through her. Sensations that she had never experienced before shot to the core of her being, and she was filled with a tingling warmth.
Their kisses became more passionate with each second that passed. His tongue lightly stroked in and out of her mouth, teasing her. His kisses filled her with a hunger she didn’t understand, but she knew only the duke could satisfy.
His hot, moist lips trailed down her neck and along her chest to the swell of her breasts. His lips and teeth nipped softly at her skin as his hand kneaded her taffeta-covered breast, sending delicious shivers of ecstasy to the center of her womanhood.
With urgency, his hand slipped inside her dress and beneath her undergarment to caress her bare breast. With his thumb and finger, he softly rolled her nipple back and forth, driving her mad with desire.
“I’ve wanted to touch you like this all evening.”
Henrietta wasn’t sure if she moaned a “Yes” aloud or in her mind. She only knew she wanted the wonderful feelings the duke was creating inside her to last forever.
Blakewell lifted her breast from the confines of her clothing and covered it with his warm mouth, teasing it and wetting it. Her arms tightened convulsively, and she pressed closer to him.
She felt as if she were ready to explode when suddenly the duke tore his lips away from her breast and buried his face in her chest.
Gasping for breath, he lifted his head and whispered, “We must not do this. You tempt me to the breaking point.”
Henrietta felt bereft. She was overflowing with sensations that needed a release she didn’t understand. She didn’t want him to stop kissing her, touching her, and making her feel as if she would burst from all the pleasure building inside her.
“Why?” she whispered against a ragged breath.
“I must keep you pure for your husband. I can’t let this go any farther between us.”
Henrietta went limp. Nothing had changed between them. He still wanted to find her a husband.
“I understand,” she said, though it broke her heart to say it. “You are right. I didn’t mean to tempt you.”
“Don’t move,” he whispered. “I need to remain in control of myself, and to do that, I need you to be very still.”
Not fully understanding, but not needing to, she nodded, sighed, and slowly melted into his strong embrace and went still.
She cupped his head to her chest and ran both her hands through his thick, beautiful hair. She wanted to stay this close to him for as long as he would allow.
Henrietta closed her eyes and gloried in the feel of being so close to the man she loved. As the seconds ticked by, his body relaxed and his breathing slowed to normal. As the minutes ticked by, she once again remembered the fear, the pain, and the desolation she had felt the night the coach toppled end over end down the soggy embankment.
Though she’d never admit it to His Grace or anyone else, there were still times she’d wake in the night silently screaming. She would never forget the horrifying sounds of the splintering wood and the screams of her mother, or her own.
And she would never forget this night when she brought comfort to the duke and, in turn, he held her close, kissed her passionately, and calmed childhood fears that never seemed to go away completely.
Fifteen
Dear Lucien, My Dearest Grandson,
You will want to ponder these famous words from Lord Chesterfield: “Is it possible then that an honest man can neglect what a wise rogue would purchase so dear?”
Your loving Grandmother, Lady Elder
IT WAS ALMOST DARK WHEN BLAKE CLIMBED INTO HIS carriage the next day and told his driver to take him to the Harbor Lights Club. He was supposed to meet Gibby for a light supper before returning to his town house to escort Henrietta and Constance to the ball being held at the Great Hall.
There were really only two reasons for London’s Season: to see, and to be seen. If a match happened to occur between an eligible gentleman and an expectant young lady, it was considered a successful Season for the couple.
A light rain misted the air, and a heavy chill settled over London. Spring was late coming to the city. Twilight was just dreary enough to match his mood. He was restless, and he really didn’t know why. It was unlike him to be so unsettled. He had always been the most carefree of Lady Elder’s grandsons. Responsibility wasn’t a word he’d ever paid much attention to, until Henrietta showed up at his door.
He had come so close to saying to hell with convention, to hell with what was right. He had been desperate to take their loving all the way and make her his lover. Fortunately, he had come to his senses in time to stop.
His shoulder felt better today, but there was still enough pain in the joint to let him know it was by no means healed. Blake had spent most of the day in his office attending to his correspondence and the mountain of papers his solicitor had sent for his suggestions, approval, or signature. Fortunately, Henrietta had made the long and tedious task much easier by arranging his mail in order of importance.
She seemed to know what needed immediate attention and what letters were mere idle ramblings that some poor soul wanted him to read. She had even mastered the mountain of invitations he had received by putting them in order of who he least needed to offend by not attending their function, be it a party, a tea, or the opera. Had Constance helped her with that?
Several gentlemen had called on him at different times during the day, obviously wanting to solicit him about Henrietta. He told Ashby to tell them all he wasn’t available for a visit but to leave their cards. He certainly wasn’t ready to talk with any man about making a match for Henrietta. J
ust the thought of that wrenched his gut.
Especially when he saw cards from men like Count Vigone and Lord Snellingly, as if he would ever consider letting her marry either man! Did they think him a dolt? He had heard gossip around the clubs that both men were looking for a wife with a large dowry.
Blake shifted in the carriage seat. Thinking of Henrietta had his loins stirring with desire and longing. Longing? Blake winced. When had he ever longed for a certain woman?
Never!
However wrong or perverted it was, because he was her guardian, he still wanted her. He had desperately wanted to comfort her with all the kisses and loving she’d wanted last night after her tears. But he couldn’t take advantage of her when she was so emotional from reliving the tragedy of her parents’ deaths. She would have let him, but she was an innocent young lady. He couldn’t change that no matter how badly they had both wanted to finish what they had started.
It was a good thing he had been in a hell of a lot of pain last night, or he might not have been able to hold himself in check when he pulled her onto his chair and cradled her in his arms. She had made him desperate to make her his.
He breathed in deeply and remembered the heavenly, womanly scent of her. He smiled just to think about her. It amazed him that he couldn’t get her off his mind.
She had felt so good, so right, snuggled warmly against his chest, her legs and stocking-covered feet curled on top of his lower body. When she first lay against him, he felt her breaths coming fast and hard. He could tell she had never been that close to a man’s desire before. She didn’t understand how close he was to the edge when he asked her to be still. But within moments, she realized he only wanted to hold her close and offer comfort. She had slowly turned her face into the crook of his neck, her body relaxed against him, and her rapid breathing had returned to normal.
Even now he ached to hold her close and pull the tight bud of her breast into his mouth again.