A MATCH FOR THE MARQUESS

by Lillian Marek

  She wanted to point out that he was the one who had started the discussion, but decided not to. She sighed and tried to think of a new topic of conversation. Asking if he intended to continue on the path he had set out seemed likely to embarrass him still further. Besides, she was not sure she wanted to hear the answer. It would be unfair to expect a pledge of fidelity when theirs was not a love match, but it would hurt to be told he intended to have affairs. She was not sure why that should be so, but it was.

  After a moment’s thought she asked, “Where are we going?” At least that was something she really wanted to know.

  “I cannot believe I did not tell you.” He smiled and took her hand. “You have been rather tossed about of late, haven’t you? We are not going far today. Whyte has loaned us his house, which is only a few miles down the road. I thought it might be uncomfortable to remain at Greystone’s and have the entire company give knowing winks when we retire, and equally uncomfortable to spend our first night on public display at an inn.”

  She caught her breath. She had not even thought about that. It would have been too humiliating to have Lady Hadlow sneering at her ignorance. Or Aunt Augusta looking sympathetic. And Corinne would have been likely to try to trip her as she walked past. Strangers would have been better, but uncomfortable in a different way. “Thank you, my lord. That was very thoughtful.”

  He smiled a little half smile. “It is also selfish. It means another day’s respite before we set out for Penworth Castle.” He was rubbing his thumb in little circles on her wrist. She was not sure he was even aware of it, but it was giving her an odd, tingly feeling.

  “Is that your home?” she asked.

  “Home?” He shrugged. “It has always been the seat of the Marquess of Penworth, so I suppose it is expected that I reside there. At the very least, I shall have to see to it that the estate is in good order.”

  “Do you not like it?”

  All trace of a smile was gone from his face. He gave her hand a squeeze, let it go, and then folded his arms. “Like it? I have seen it once in my life, and then only one room of it for a few minutes. By now, given the general state of my grandfather’s affairs, the castle is probably as much of a disaster as the rest of the estate.” He shook himself and tried a smile. “Do not worry. If it is too bad, you will not have to stay there. There are five other estates belonging to the title, and we will visit them all eventually. Then, if you don’t like any of them, I can always buy another.”

  She also tried to smile, but it was not easy. There were clearly unpleasant memories associated with Penworth Castle. In addition, it sounded as if she could choose her residence, but she would be living there alone. He had said “you will not have to stay there,” not “we.” She turned to look out the window so he could not see any disappointment in her face. After all, he had promised her a home of her own. He had said nothing about sharing it. Why would she even want him to? He was a virtual stranger. Just because he had kissed her, that did not mean anything. Did it?

  The carriage slowed, turned into a drive and stopped in front of an elegantly simple brick house. It was not a grand mansion, like Greystone Manor, but it was clearly a prosperous gentleman’s residence, and a welcoming one. They entered and stopped in the hall. Lady Anne unpinned her hat, handed it to a footman, and looked around. The entrance hall was not large, but the floors and furniture gleamed and a large vase of flowers offered a cheerful welcome.

  “I do not know him very well, but I think Mr. Whyte must be a good man,” she said as she and Philip followed a footman upstairs to their rooms.

  Philip looked startled. “He is. What makes you say so?”

  “This house.” She smiled. “It is a welcoming house, a good house. The servants smile.”

  “And houses reflect their owners? You may be right.”

  Then things began happening to Lady Anne once more. In her room, Millie, who had been sent along to be her lady’s maid, undressed her and had a bath prepared for her. Then Millie dressed her again, this time in a dress suitable, Anne supposed, for her first dinner with her new husband. It was of blue silk, a deeper blue than her ball gown had been, snug at the waist and cut well off the shoulders. There were wreathes of ribbon arranged in a circle above the hem, and tiny bows in a row down the front of the bodice. Millie concocted a fantasy of curls and feathers in her hair, and she wore her mother’s pearls again. She was led downstairs to the dining room where, before an audience of butler and footmen, she and Lord Penworth made polite conversation about the house, the dinner, and the kindness of everyone.

  Plates came and went, and by the time they were finished she was reasonably certain that she had eaten some dinner. She was quite certain that she had drunk her wine, and was grateful that it was unwatered. Penworth rose and looked at her uncertainly when she excused herself abruptly and went upstairs. There Millie undressed her yet again and helped her into her nightgown. It was a plain, serviceable garment, with long sleeves and high neck and no decoration. She saw Millie look at it in disapproval, but she could hardly do anything about it. This was the only nightgown she had, and it was no worse than her dressing gown. At least it had been neatly mended after her first encounter with Penworth.

  By the time Millie had unpinned her hair and brushed it a few strokes, Anne had had enough and sent the maid away. She went over to the window and stared out into the darkness.

  Philip stood in the doorway watching her. She was stiff again, her barriers up. He was not sure what to do, how to reach her.

  “Anne?” He stepped closer, and she turned to face him. She was so expressionless that he had no idea what she was thinking. “Lady Anne,” he said formally, “I would like this to be a true marriage, but I realize that you barely know me. If you would like to wait until we are better acquainted, I will not be offended.”

  She looked at him solemnly and then smiled slightly. “You are a very kind man, my lord, and I thank you. However, I fear that the longer we wait, the more nervous I will be, so I would just as soon get it over with.”

  He winced at her phrasing and she looked worried. “Unless, of course, you would prefer…?”

  “I assure you, I have no desire to wait.” He reached to take her hand and draw her to him, and asked gently, “Do you know what to expect?”

  She shook her head. “Not really. Aunt Craddock was not very helpful.” Her voice trailed off.

  Aunt Craddock? That did not sound good. “What did she tell you?”

  “Nothing very clear. She said that you would climb on top of me, and it was messy and unpleasant, but it did not take long and I should not complain because you’re a marquess.”

  Damn all the Aunt Craddocks in this world. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close, resting his cheek against her hair. She held herself stiffly, and he began to rub her back in little circles. “Is that what has frightened you?” he whispered.

  He could feel her relax slightly. Then she rubbed her head against his shoulder and made a little sound. Was it a sound of pleasure? He felt a spring of hope.

  “It is not that I am frightened precisely,” she said. “After all, it would be foolish to pay much heed to Aunt Craddock.”

  Surprised, he pulled back a bit and looked down at her.

  “The messy and unpleasant part, I mean. If that is all there is to it, why would Lady Hadlow want you in her bed? For that matter, why would any woman commit adultery?” She sounded slightly exasperated.

  His jaw dropped, and then he let out a roar of laughter. It was fortunate that they were right next to the bed, because he fell down and landed on it, pulling her with him. When he finally stopped laughing, she was still lying on top of him but was regarding him frostily.

  “I am pleased I can afford you such amusement, my lord.”

  He grinned at her. “Do you always disregard Aunt Craddock?”

  Anne shrugged. “She is not an intelligent woman. That is beside the point. The problem is that I have no idea what actually does happen
and what I am supposed to do, and I truly hate being so ignorant.”

  Philip continued to grin. “And to think I feared when I first saw you sitting there with that teapot waiting for me that you were an insipid missish sort. You keep showing me how wrong I was. It will be easier, I think, for me to show you than to explain, but feel free to ask me anything.”

  She nodded slowly. “But what should I do?”

  “You need not do anything unless you wish to, my sweet, and then you may do whatever pleases you. And you must tell me if you like or dislike anything I do.”

  She need not have worried about the state of her nightgown. She was not sure he had even noticed it before he pulled it over her head and tossed it away. His dressing gown followed it, and he had been wearing nothing else. She had never seen a naked man before, but she did not get a chance to see much now. He was leaning over her with an intense look, the like of which she had never seen before. His eyes seemed darker than before, almost black. Was that possible, she wondered. Could eyes change color?

  Then she stopped wondering because he was kissing her. It was gentle to begin with, then more, and still more. He lifted his mouth from hers and began kissing her neck. Then he moved up and kissed a spot behind her ear, and then he was licking her ear. Licking! She gasped from surprise and pleasure. His hands slipped over her body, touching, caressing. She had no idea her body could feel like this. It was lovely, but somehow incomplete. There was something more, she was sure. But what?

  Perhaps she was supposed to do something now. She loved the way he was touching her, so she reached out and caressed him in turn—his shoulders, his back, his chest, his… He groaned and she jerked back her hand. “I’m so sorry. I did not mean to hurt you.”

  “My sweet, I assure you, that was the sound of pleasure, not pain. But I do not want to explode just yet.”

  She was confused but he was smiling, so she supposed he was not injured. Then he was kissing her breast, and licking it, and she could feel her nipples tighten. His hand had slipped between her legs, and soon she was not thinking at all. She was spinning, flying. Then he was between her legs and then he was inside her and at first it did not seem right but then it did—strange but somehow right—and she could feel herself arching to meet him. She was crying out, and then she could hear him cry out too before he collapsed on her.

  After a bit he pulled out of her and rolled onto his side, still holding her close, and for a few minutes it was all either of them could do to breathe. Then he propped himself up on an elbow and looked at her. “Are you all right? Did I hurt you?”

  “Hurt me? No. Was it supposed to hurt? Did I do something wrong?” The contented feeling was starting to turn into worry.

  His smile was reassuring. “Not at all. I am glad there was no pain. And it will only get better for you.”

  “Better? Because that was really quite lovely. I cannot imagine what Aunt Craddock could have been thinking. Of course,” she added, considering, “it must be very different with Uncle Craddock.”

  He had that stunned look again, and then fell back with laughter. “I should damn well hope so! And I would wager it is very different with Aunt Craddock.” He pulled her over so that her head was nestled on his shoulder, and pressed his lips to her temple. “I told you we would do well together,” he said softly.

  There was much to be said in favor of marriage, she thought. She never would have guessed. It was comforting to be held this way, feeling safe and secure, and his shoulder made a very comfortable pillow. She smiled and fell asleep.

  His shoulder was numb when he woke in the early dawn, with his new wife still pillowed on him.

  His wife. It was going to take a while to grow accustomed to that. He eased himself out from under her a bit. She didn’t wake up, but she did make a small sound of protest. He smiled down at her, massaging his shoulder.

  His wife. He had accepted the responsibility and had known that she was his to protect, to take care of. He had not realized how much she would also be his to enjoy, in more ways than one. Making love to her had been a surprise, far more of a pleasure than he had thought possible, since it was her first time. She was uncertain, but not prudish, with no missish reluctance to receive pleasure. They would be able to explore each other and enjoy the experience.

  He reached over and ran his hand along her side, the lovely curve that dipped to her waist and then rose to her hip. He traced it up and down. She made a little sound—it sounded like a hum of contentment—and opened her eyes a bit. The she opened her eyes wide, gasped, blushed, and grabbed for the sheet to cover herself.

  “There’s no need for that, you know,” he said with a grin. “We’re married, so it is quite permissible.”

  She sniffed. “It may be permissible, my lord, but it is nonetheless disconcerting. I fear I am not accustomed to waking up naked lying next to a naked man.”

  He was enjoying this. “I should hope not. I might mention that I am not particularly accustomed to it either. Waking up next to a naked woman, that is. I do, however, find it quite enjoyable.”

  She was turned away, blushing quite prettily, he thought. It was very pleasing, somehow, to have a blushing bride.

  “I think that in situations like this—lying here naked, you know—we might be a bit less formal,” he said. “You could call me Philip and I could call you Anne.”

  She was by now a quite vivid shade of red. He was not sure how far it extended, since the sheet was covering some of her, but the blush clearly went as far as her breasts.

  She looked around and gasped slightly when she saw that he was not covered at all. He had awakened with a furious erection. He did not intend to do anything about it, since she was doubtless sore from her first time, but it was rather flattering to see her eyes grow round as she looked at it.

  “What is it called?” she finally asked.

  He made a choking sound. He was not sure what he had expected her to say, but that was not it. “I know some men name theirs, but I never thought about it. How about George? Lady Anne, please allow me to introduce George. George, this is my wife, Lady Anne. I trust you will both enjoy a long and pleasant…”

  She gave him a shove, and he saw that her eyes had narrowed and her lips had tightened. The blush had turned into an irate flush. She was not amused. Not at all.

  “No doubt you find my ignorance entertaining, my lord.” She leaned over him. “This is an arm”—she swatted his arm—“and this is a leg”—she swatted that—“but I do not know what that”—he caught her hand before she could swat again—“is called.”

  She seemed to be on the verge of angry tears. “I’m sorry,” he said gently, a bit embarrassed. “I misunderstood. I was not attempting to make fun of you.”

  “It is not as if I enjoy being ignorant, you know, but it is not the sort of thing one can ask about. Aunt Craddock called it a Thing, but that cannot be its real name.” She waved down at it, and then looked again. “Oh dear,” she whispered. “What happened?”

  Philip looked down and saw that he had now quite shriveled up. “It is quite all right. Its official name is a penis, and this is what it normally looks like. It only swells up when it wants to make love.”

  “When it wants to? What about the rest of you?”

  “It does have rather a mind of its own.” He was enjoying this again. “I suppose that’s why it has acquired so many names.” He held up a hand when she seemed about to ask. “Euphemisms like ‘Thing’ and names that men use when talking to each other, not in polite society, and definitely not in front of ladies, and I am not going to tell them to you.” She looked a bit disappointed, so he added, “But there’s no reason we can’t call him George between ourselves.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  In which our hero and heroine learn more about each other

  “There’s no need for us to hurry,” Philip said, pulling Anne back down when she started to get up. “We have all the time in the world. Penworth Castle isn’t going anywhere.” />
  Anne was sure it wasn’t. Castles didn’t travel, after all. However, she had been looking forward to seeing her new home. She was about to say so when she saw something in her new husband’s eyes, something remarkably like pain. This was perhaps not the time to start probing, but she hoped he would eventually tell her why he was so reluctant to get to the castle.

  Meanwhile, she would try to be a compliant wife. If he did not want to get off to an early start, she would agree that there was really no need to do so.

  Crispin and Millie, of course, expressed no surprise when ten o’clock had come and gone before anyone rang for them. Not that they would have expressed surprise under any conditions. They were both too well trained to do so, and too new to their positions to risk any comment. Nonetheless, they liked their positions and their employers well enough to exchange a pleased smile as they went upstairs.

  Rather than board the coach immediately once they were dressed, Lord Penworth suggested that they wait until after lunch, and enjoy a stroll through the gardens. Anne had put on a bonnet this time, rather than one of the round hats in the half dozen hat boxes piled in the baggage coach, thinking it somewhat more practical for travel. Practicality was not, however, its most notable characteristic. It was of very fine straw and sported an enormous spray of lavender roses, the same color as her traveling dress. It also had a stiff bow of striped ribbon under the brim, which stuck out so far around her face that she had to tilt her head to be able to see her companion.

  He was grinning at her. “Your bonnet is quite, uh, remarkable.”

  “Is it not utterly frivolous and ridiculous?” she said happily.

  “That would appear to be a reasonable description. And that pleases you?”

  “Most certainly. You can have no idea how depressing it is to always wear sensible, practical and suitable garments, and what a delight it is to wear a useless and impractical bonnet.”