Lord Greywell's Dilemma

by Laura Matthews

  "It doesn't matter,” she said breathlessly. “Only don't wait any longer."

  He laughed and kissed her before removing the pantalettes entirely. Then he positioned himself over her and began to let nature take its course, though thrusting slowly, patiently forcing her maidenhead. She made only one murmur of pained surprise before the waves of ecstasy rolled over her. She clung to him as he came, feverishly kneading at his buttocks, drawing him into her as far as she could. Her eyes shone with wonder as they lay together, spent. He continued to stroke her, whispering unrecognizable phrases in her ear.

  Their bodies cooled gradually, and he lifted himself up on his elbows to ask, “Are you all right, my dear?"

  "I've never felt better in my life,” she said, purring like a kitten.

  Greywell laughed and kissed the tip of her nose. “And this is the woman who wanted nothing to do with pleasures of the flesh. I'll be eternally grateful you changed your mind, Elspeth.” A slight frown creased his forehead. “I hope you won't regret the decision."

  "I promise I won't."

  "No, I don't think you will. Shall I have your maid come to you here?"

  "I'd rather go back to my room, if you'll lend me a dressing gown.

  Greywell disentangled himself from her and hopped off the bed. Elspeth watched him walk unselfconsciously across the room to where his dressing gown lay across a chair. She was even more fascinated when he walked back toward her. “You may be a little sore today,” he said.

  "I don't mind.” She climbed out of bed, determined to be as easy in her nakedness as he was in his, and allowed him to help her into the dressing gown.

  Greywell shook his head, bemused. “You never cease to amaze me, Elspeth. Shall I come with you?"

  "Good heavens, no! I have a thousand things to do before my father comes. Andrew will be awake now, and I'll want to check on him, and there are flowers to cut, and the menu to be gone over, and..."

  "Yes, well, I can see I'd only be in the way,” he conceded as he opened the door. “Don't be so busy I don't see you all day."

  "I won't,” she called back over her shoulder as she marched down the corridor, her head held high, her body regally erect.

  Greywell watched until she disappeared from sight around a corner. He was remembering the last time he had thought how she held her body differently. Decidedly she had become aware of her sexuality then, because of Francis. But this was not the same. Even if he hadn't had the proof of her virginity, he would have seen the distinction. This time there was not only an awareness, but a glorying in her body, in its power and its pleasure. The curiosity had given way to knowledge, and there was a pride in the knowledge, an acceptance in the experience. Elspeth had never felt more a woman, and the excitement radiated from her.

  Greywell felt an odd stirring of his emotions, and realized, with some regret but mostly with thankfulness, that he had come to love this unusual woman. He promised himself he would always reserve a special place in his heart for the memory of Caroline, but accepted that time passed, and wounds healed, and that he had been exceedingly fortunate to have stumbled across Elspeth, the prudish spinster of Lyndhurst.

  The only thing that disturbed this understanding was his uncertainty as to her own emotions. Oh, he didn't doubt that she had enjoyed their lovemaking as much as he had, but he questioned whether she was as deeply involved emotionally as he was. After all, it was only a few weeks ago she had told him she loved Francis.

  * * * *

  Sir Edward arrived in the early afternoon. This time he came with only a modicum of luggage; it was too soon for fox-hunting, unless he intended to stay for several months. Elspeth, of course, had no idea as to his intentions, since he had neglected to advise her of them. When she inquired as to his health, he said, “Tolerable, very tolerable, for a man my age."

  "You look wonderful,” she agreed, taking his arm and leading him to the North Drawing Room. Greywell was just coming out of his study to join them.

  The baronet paused in the hall to look down at his daughter. One brow lowered and the other rose as he attempted to pinpoint the change in her. “It's not your hair or your dress,” he muttered, still puzzled. “You were already fixing yourself up the last time I was here. It's the way you carry yourself. By God, you've—"

  "Welcome to Ashfield,” Greywell interjected smoothly as a flush worked its way up Elspeth's cheeks. “We're delighted to have you come for a visit, Sir Edward. Will you be able to make it a long stay?"

  "Can't say yet.” The baronet turned to him, after one more quizzical look at Elspeth, and extended his hand. “Congratulations,” he said. “I wasn't at all sure it could be accomplished, you know, making a real woman of her."

  "Elspeth has always been a real woman.” But Greywell refused to take offense, knowing Sir Edward's peculiarities too well. “How was your journey?"

  "No worse than any other I've made,” he conceded as he followed Greywell and Elspeth into the drawing room. “I could use a little something to work the dust of the road out of my throat."

  Elspeth gave a vigorous tug to the bell rope before seating herself on the sofa. Greywell sat down beside her, his shoulder touching hers. “We've invited Abigail to dine with us tonight,” he said. “We thought you would like to bring her here yourself."

  Sir Edward grumbled something that sounded like approval, but he refused to meet Elspeth's eyes. “You'll want to know what's been going on around Lyndhurst, I dare say. The big news is that Blockley's getting married. Little slip of a girl, ugly as sin. Can't think for the life of me why she'd have him. Quite a pair they'll make. He's pursued several of the ladies since you left, Elspeth, but they had as much sense as you did. This one probably thinks it's the only chance she'll have. Poor child."

  Since Elspeth couldn't think quite how to respond to this information, it was fortunate Selsey arrived just then in answer to her ring. She ordered refreshments, which included Madeira for her father, and then turned back to him to inquire after others in the neighborhood. They sat chatting pleasantly until after he had downed a glass of Greywell's finest wine, when he rose abruptly and announced he must change for his call on Abigail.

  He was gone with such suddenness that Elspeth sat staring at the door after he left. “Well! I don't know what can have possessed him to leave so quickly,” she said, a little embarrassed for his precipitateness. “It's still several hours until dinner."

  Greywell looked thoughtful but said only, “I imagine he's eager to see her. Shall we take Andrew out in the garden?"

  * * * *

  On no occasion had Elspeth seen Abigail dressed as she was that evening. True, the night before she had looked entirely presentable, but when she arrived on Sir Edward's arm for dinner at Ashfield she was so elegant as to be almost unrecognizable. Her dress, though long out of fashion, was striking in its suitability to her. Full folds of emerald satin flowed about her, and a high-standing collar graced a surprisingly simple but effective hairstyle. Elspeth was shaken by her appearance and turned to Greywell with a half-fearful question in her eyes. She felt him press her hand before addressing Abigail.

  "You look magnificent,” he said. “Quite like the old days."

  But Abigail was paying no attention to his flattery. Her gaze was on Elspeth, those small, sharp eyes assessing her so omnisciently that Elspeth squirmed beneath the scrutiny. Finally she turned to Sir Edward and smiled. “You're right,” she said. “It was a near thing. If he'd come home a week later..."

  Elspeth would have succumbed to a fit of the vapors if she'd had the capability. But such maidenly ploys had always been denied her, and she met Greywell's gently probing eyes with a lifted chin. How dare any of them discuss her this way, as though she weren't even there? She had been sorry for what happened, and she'd told him about it—well, a little about it—when he'd questioned her. There had seemed no sense in going into details, and what, after all, did Abigail know about the matter, anyhow? Surely she hadn't been bird-watching in the woods th
at night! No, of course she hadn't. She simply wished to seem all-knowing about Elspeth's affairs, though they certainly didn't concern her in the least. Elspeth offered the chair nearest the fireplace to Abigail, though there was no blaze on the hearth.

  She heard Greywell offer the older woman a glass of brandy, but Abigail refused, in a very genteel, chiding voice, saying, “Sherry before dinner, my dear Greywell. I would accept a glass of sherry were you to press me."

  Greywell pressed her, and Elspeth, who dearly needed the distraction and the courage the beverage provided. Were they going to ask her when Greywell had finally succeeded in seducing her? Really, her father and Abigail made the most astonishing ... couple.

  Oh, my God. she thought suddenly, he's going to marry her! That's why he's come, and dressed in such a pompous, formal style. Her eyes flew to Greywell's, and her husband nodded, acknowledging he, too, had guessed their ill-kept secret. He seemed half amused, half pleased by the turn events had taken. Elspeth felt somehow betrayed.

  Sir Edward waited until dinner was almost finished before making the announcement. By that time Elspeth had gotten her rebellious emotions somewhat under control. This had nothing to do with her mother. As far as Elspeth was concerned, there was not one way in which Abigail could compare with her mother. They were two entirely different types of people, and if Sir Edward thought he could be happy with her, so much the better. Perhaps it would end his gallivanting in the neighborhood around Lyndhurst.

  "I want you to wish me happy, Elspeth,” is what Sir Edward was saying. “Abigail has consented to be my wife."

  "How ... how lovely,” Elspeth managed, turning to Abigail on her other side and smiling. “David, perhaps we could toast them with a bottle of champagne. Have you set a date, Abigail?"

  "We'll have the banns read, of course,” said the older woman self-righteously. “Edward suggested a special license, but I want no hint of havey-cavey business about it. So it will be several weeks, I imagine. Then I shall move with him to Lyndhurst. If Greywell would be so kind, we thought he might find a tenant for my property, and keep an eye on it."

  "I'd be delighted,” he said. He had already spoken to a footman about the champagne and now turned to his wife. “I'm sure Elspeth would like to have the wedding breakfast here, if you would allow us. You'll not want to have that burden when you're getting ready to leave for Lyndhurst."

  Elspeth wished she were close enough to Greywell to kick him under the table. “Of course you must let us have it here,” she echoed, in what she considered an exemplary tone of voice.

  "If you insist,” Abigail said.

  "That's kind of you,” Sir Edward said.

  Elspeth wondered if they had planned on it all along.

  Her husband sat smiling at the head of the table. When the champagne came he made a delightful toast to the betrothed couple. Elspeth said she hoped they would be very happy. They moved back to the drawing room and talked of Lyndhurst and the wedding and plans for the future. Abigail drank a little too much, which kept Elspeth from doing it, but Sir Edward merely looked enchanted with his chipper bride-to-be.

  "I'm going to take this young lady home,” he announced after what seemed an eternity to Elspeth. She had never seen a man his age so besotted. “Don't wait up for me."

  "We won't,” she said, with sublime indifference. Greywell pinched her little finger, and she smiled benignly on the departing couple. From the drawing room they heard the front door close, and she said, “He's lost his mind."

  Greywell laughed and kissed her cheek. “They're perfect for each other, my dear."

  "I can't believe he'd marry her!” Elspeth saw the disappointment in his eyes, but she was too upset to heed it. “My mother wasn't at all like that. She was sweet and kind and beautiful and sympathetic. She wasn't crazy like Abigail. Why would he want to marry her? They'll make such a spectacle of themselves at Lyndhurst."

  "You won't be there to see it."

  His cool words had the desired effect of bringing her up short.

  She stood for a minute, not looking at him, and then said, “I have a bit of a headache. I think I'll go to bed now."

  As she took a step away from him he said, “Elspeth."

  Though she stayed where she was, she didn't answer.

  "I know it's not easy to accept that your father wishes to remarry, but I don't think that's what's really bothering you."

  "What else would be bothering me?” she asked crossly. “Isn't it enough that my father plans to marry a dotty neighbor of yours?"

  "Of ours.

  "Yes, well, of ours, then."

  "Don't you think they'll be happy?"

  She shrugged. “I suppose they will."

  "Isn't that what you want for your father?"

  Elspeth didn't answer. She stood with her back to him, making it perfectly clear she wished to leave the room. Greywell came to stand beside her, lifting her face with a gentle finger. “Just don't let it settle in your mind that their marriage is what has entirely discomposed you, my dear. You are surprised, and a little unhappy about someone replacing your mother in Sir Edward's affections, but you know it's a suitable arrangement. More than suitable, really. It will make both of their lives more pleasant. It will keep your father at home and give Abigail someone on whom to lavish all that pent-up care she has. After the initial shock, the people around Lyndhurst will think nothing of them—they'll be enchanted to have such a quaint pair in their midst. You know that's how it will be, Elspeth."

  Her eyelids flickered rapidly under his unswerving gaze.

  "Probably."

  "What has really upset you was what Abigail said earlier, wasn't it?"

  She was tempted to pretend she didn't know what he was talking about, but she knew it was useless. There was always the possibility of brazening it out. “Well, it was a very uncivil thing to say, which only goes to show what a strange old woman she is."

  Greywell abruptly removed his finger and stepped back from her. “Very well, Elspeth. Why don't you run along to bed? Sleep well."

  His forbearance infuriated her. And the certainty that he wouldn't come to her, that he wouldn't expect her to come to him, made her feel desolate. “You said we didn't have to talk about it again."

  "That's true, I did. And we won't ... if you don't want to."

  Elspeth knew he was backing her against a wall. “Why would I want to talk about it? It's embarrassing to me. I've told you I'm sorry about all that."

  If she hadn't used the same phrase again, ‘all that,’ he might have been able to let it go. But now he was truly curious as to how much ‘all that’ was. She had been a virgin that morning, so it couldn't be so very much, could it? Why wouldn't she tell him and get it behind them? But he had promised to let it be. “I think we're both tired. I did promise not to press you. I'll see you to your room."

  "But you won't come to me later, will you?” Elspeth moistened her lips. “What she said has upset you and made you think all sorts of things about me, hasn't it? Oh, I could throttle her. And how dare they discuss me in that way? Well, she's right. I'm a wanton, David. All he had to do was kiss me and I was nearly ready to ... to ... to jump into bed with him. Only there wasn't really any bed we could use, which made it more difficult."

  Elspeth dropped onto the nearest chair and tapped her fingers against the arms. Her face was a confused mixture of shame and remorse and fear. “I didn't know how easily I could be tempted. Francis was very sweet to me. He wrote all these poems about me and he told me he adored me. Well, you didn't adore me. You left here being very annoyed with me, and your letters weren't much of an improvement, were they? I'm not trying to excuse myself. Well, yes, I suppose I am, actually. You have to understand, David, I'd never been in a position like that before. My purpose in being here, to see that Andrew got well, had been accomplished. Emily Marden was preoccupied with her new baby. The only visits Abigail made were these strange calls—she would pop up in the house somewhere and start talking to me practica
lly in the middle of a sentence. You had written that you were going to join Wellington's staff, and I felt quite put out with you about that, thinking you would probably just get yourself killed."

  She made a dismissive gesture with one hand and allowed it to fall listlessly on her lap. It was impossible to read his expression. He hadn't seated himself, but stood there watching her without changing position or allowing his eyes to register anything more than polite interest. Elspeth let out a long, shaking breath. “So one night we took a walk to the woods over there.” She indicated with one quivering finger and continued. “It was the day before I got your valet's letter, so Abigail is right, in a way, about what might have happened if I hadn't heard from you when I did. But I'd heard about Waterloo and I was upset and I let Francis comfort me. I'd let him kiss me a few times before, and the sensations were quite pleasurable. That night I let him ... touch me.

  "I had my gown on!” she insisted, flushing and not meeting his eyes. But I might have let ... everything happen if it hadn't been for remembering my father and how I'd been so upset with him for what he did. Still, I started to understand why he had done it. The desire is stronger than I'd understood."

  "Yes,” he agreed. “It's very strong. I wouldn't have liked you to sleep with another man, Elspeth. I probably wouldn't have cast you out, as you were determined to think I would, but I would have suffered. No man likes to think of himself as a cuckold. I realize I didn't give you any special reason to be faithful to me, but I expected it of you."

  She studied the hand lying in her lap. “Yes, I know."

  "Do you think it will be difficult for you to remain faithful to me in future?"

  "Oh, no, I shouldn't think so."

  He smiled and came to take her hand. “Shall I come to your room tonight, or do you prefer mine?"

  "It doesn't make the least difference,” she murmured as his lips met hers.

  Chapter Fifteen

  During the two weeks before the wedding, Elspeth saw very little of her father, unless Abigail came to dine at Ashfield. Sir Edward was gruffly good-humored with his daughter, strikingly easy with Greywell, and totally oblivious to little Andrew. Under Greywell's watchful eye, Elspeth behaved as though the match were the best idea since the seed drill. Actually, she didn't mind it, once she became accustomed to the reality, but she liked pretending that it was only Greywell's constant attendance on her which guided her behavior. That way she saw a great deal of him, which made her days as inordinately pleasing as her nights were dazzling.