Taming Lady Lydia

by Felicity Brandon

  The smile which meets me widens, and I blush further, realising full well to what he refers. “I have no wish to embarrass you on the subject, Lydia,” he says softly. “You are yet so innocent… despite my maligning influence.”

  Unbelievably, I think I flush further. “You mean things of the sort we have talked about?” My voice is raspy, making me shift all the more uncomfortably on the bed next to him. “Things which transpire between a gentleman and his wife?”

  “Yes,” he smiles, “and more.”

  I still, almost unable to process the words. Surely I had suspected as much, and yet hearing such brutal honesty from the man who is now my legal guardian is still perturbing.

  “I have shocked you,” he says, squeezing my hand gently. “I am sorry. Let us talk no more of it now.”

  He rises, intending to stand, but I hold on to his hand, imploring him. “No, please, Thomas!” He pauses, looking down to me. “I confess I am shocked, and yet I would rather know the truth. We are here now—at Cranningford I mean—and I should like to be aware of the facts.”

  I see him considering my words, before he slowly reseats himself. “I will continue only in the spirit of what is good for us,” he says. “I have asked for honesty from you, and so you deserve no less from me.”

  “Thank you,” I reply, as he resumes the story.

  “Once William married, I assumed that the debauchery would have to stop, and yet it seems Lady Helena is rather inclined in the same direction.”

  I gasp. “Do you mean that she also entertains such things?” I ask, rather stunned. “Here, at the hall?”

  “Yes,” comes the reply. “It would appear that she enjoys meeting the needs of her dominant husband, whilst also wanting to play with other guests. Their marriage is rather curious actually…” He pauses, looking at my gaping face. “Do you wish me to continue?” he asks.

  I nod furiously, seemingly unable to articulate my needs.

  He smiles again, turning back to the window as he continues. “At any rate, Helena has been most desperate to see me settled with an appropriate lady for some time. Ironically, she is much like the countess in this way! It was only inevitable then, that she would speak of things such as marriage to you.”

  Absurdly my heart falls at his final comment. Perhaps Lady Helena was wrong—Thomas has seemingly no desire to marry me. Caught up in the moment of transparency, I decide to be brave. “Do you not wish to marry, My Lord?”

  Dismayed at my own candidness, I look to him, feeling more vulnerable than ever. He turns back to face me, shifting his weight so that he is now only inches from me. “I can say honestly, that until recently, I never had.”

  The searing intensity of his expression makes me heady, his gaze taking on some otherworldly, hypnotic quality.

  “And now, My Lord?” My voice sounds tiny all of a sudden.

  “And now,” he says, pressing his body weight against me gently as he leans in toward my lips. I freeze, paralysed with desire for him, and for the things he may promise. Slowly he inches toward me, until his lips graze mine sensually. “Perhaps I am of a different mind-set.”

  I blink at him, the pulsing between my legs goading me to return the kiss, and yet fear—or convention—preventing me from doing so. We have already crossed so many lines—this gentleman and I—and yet the temptation to blur another is all too enticing.

  Maybe he sees the tension in my eyes, or perhaps his own desire just becomes too heavy a burden, but all at once he swoops, collecting my head into his right hand and pushing me back onto the bed. I gasp, but the sound is swallowed by his mouth, which moves upon me, placing hot kisses against my lips as he manoeuvres us between the posts.

  “Thomas!” I pant, as he finally releases my lips.

  He leans in over me, pressing his weight onto his elbows aside of my head. “Lydia.” His voice is that low growl again. “The things I want to do to you…”

  His words make me swoon, and instinctively I squeeze my eyes shut. He responds by dipping to my neck, planting a frenzy of hot kisses at my nape, until shamelessly I hear myself moan out loud.

  “What things?” I ask, opening my eyes to see his own hooded lids rise to my face once more.

  He shakes his head at me, as if he means not to say. “Do not tease me, Lydia,” he warns. “Or after I take you over my knee, I will devour you.”

  I gaze up at him, filled with desire for this man, and speechless at the sheer force of the feeling. For a moment it seems I cannot take a breath, and then when I do, I realise that I am panting. “I am not!” I say defiantly. “At least, I mean not to be? I have never felt this way before, Thomas. I do not know how to feel.”

  He smiles devilishly, and rolls his hips against my middle. The feeling of his hardness astounds me, and sends my eyes darting between us.

  “Do you feel what you do to me?” he asks, eyeing me intently.

  I nod, a small whimper leaving my lips as I do.

  “Hush, Lydia,” he says, kissing me again. “I mean never to hurt you, but I do so want to possess you.”

  Looking into his eyes, I know that I too desire the same thing. The pool of wetness at my core is a testament to the fact. His smile returns, and with it the dark urgency on his face slips away. “There will come a day, Lydia,” he whispers into my ear. “And on that day I will have you, but that day is not today. Today, we must behave.”

  He rises from me, pushing himself away from the bed, before rearranging his clothes. I watch him, feeling hot and flustered from my vantage against the covers, reeling at the sensations he has ignited within my own body. I shut my eyes, trying to regain composure over myself, and muse on his words in silence. If he is correct, and our day is set to come, I hope that day will not be too long away…

  Chapter Twenty-Three: Evening Entertainment

  I sit by the fire in my room, Lucy tending to my hair after my bath, enjoying the sensations of the flames as they warm my skin. I hear her voice in the background, asking me questions about Cranningford, and Lord and Lady Pembroke, and yet I am not really paying attention, my thoughts still lost in replaying the moments Lord Markham and I had shared here earlier.

  “My Lady?” Lucy’s voice sounds somewhere between concern and irritation.

  “Yes?” I answer, unaware of her enquiry.

  She sighs, and a stab of regret fills me. “Should you wear the oyster, or the pink gown?”

  I run my fingers over my face, retracing the line his kisses had travelled earlier. Catching my own distant reflection in the looking glass, I stop. “The pink, please,” I answer.

  She smiles, clearly in agreement. “Good choice, My Lady,” she says. “The hue does so flatter your complexion.”

  I dress quickly, and once she is happy, Lucy retires for the night, leaving me awaiting Lord Markham with nervous butterflies abounding once again. Thankfully, he does not leave me waiting long, and one simple knock at my door is the signal to find him standing in the hallway. He smiles as our eyes meet, his gaze falling to absorb every inch of my body in the chosen gown. He whistles appreciatively, reaching for my hands and pulling me from the doorway into his embrace. I am taken aback by the physicality, wanting to protest in case we are seen, but then I recall we are not at Markham, and we are quite alone, Buckton also having departed.

  “Good evening, Lady Franklin,” he whispers from over me. “May I say you look truly delectable tonight?”

  I giggle at his words, pressing my palm into his expensive evening coat. The look reminds me of the first night I had met him at Markham Hall. How long ago that night seems now. “Thank you, My Lord,” I reply. “I should also like to compliment you on your handsome looks, if it is not too unladylike of me to say so?”

  Now it is his turn to laugh, and he spins me round in the corridor, as though we are dancing. “Oh, I do hope so,” he purrs over me. “I promise that all unladylike behaviour will result in swats over my knee later!”

  I glan
ce up into his eyes, feeling the blood rushing to my face yet again. The smile on his face is wicked and gorgeous. “In private, My Lord?” I ask nervously.

  He winks at me. “That will depend upon how depraved your behaviour proves to be!” he replies.

  I smile at his words, feeling my body respond to them in the usual carnal way. Beneath my gown, my nipples harden, forming into tight buds, which ache beautifully. I let out a sigh as the sensations roll over me.

  “Shall we?” he asks, luring me from my own lewd thoughts.

  I nod my concurrence, and we begin our journey to supper.

  * * *

  The meal is as lavish and indulgent as I had expected it to be. We are met by the lord and lady of the house, in their seemingly trademark and over-tactile way, before making our way to the dining room. We are seated at a table so great, it puts even the one at Markham to shame. We occupy just four spaces—a tiny proportion of the dining table—and I find I have been seated beside Lord William, and opposite Thomas, who is sat with Lady Helena. I do my best to push down the envious feelings which raise their heads when I see the two of them together.

  The game course, it transpires, was caught by the two gentleman just this afternoon—a fact which is celebrated widely throughout the meal. I engage in polite discussion with my host, whilst watching my guardian interact with Lady Helena. I decline dessert after the main course, feeling already that I have over-consumed on rich and tasty food. At this point convention usually determines that the ladies retire to another room, leaving the men to smoke and indulge in liquor as they wish, but for some peculiar reason that moment never comes.

  Instead, it is Lady Helena who calls for an end to the meal. “Shall we retire to the music room?” Her question is directed broadly at the whole room. “Lydia, will you do us the honour of playing for us?”

  They all eye me, waiting for my response. I see Thomas throw me an enquiring look, and instinctively I shift in my seat under his watchful gaze. “I have not played for an audience for some time, My Lady.” I answer; a tactful way of refusing her indelicate offer.

  She smiles, waving her arms around fancifully. “Nonsense!” she cries. “Why, you played for me just this afternoon.

  She has me on this point, and I lower my eyes. “But My Lady, I am really not so accomplished.”

  “Lydia!” she says, draining her wineglass, “you were utterly marvellous!”

  I let out a small sigh, feeling beaten on the subject.

  “Perhaps a small glass of wine will help?” says Lord William from my right. “Lady Lydia is rightly nervous, and her modesty does her credit.”

  Thomas stiffens from opposite me. As always, his unspoken rule about my alcohol consumption means that not a drop has passed my lips this evening, even though the three of them have enjoyed two glasses each.

  Seeing his face, I answer. “Lord Markham does not permit me to drink wine, Lord William,” I say into my chest. I feel rather humiliated to admit it, and yet on the other hand, I have no wish to upset my guardian, and even less desire to play for the Pembrokes.

  Lord William twists in his seat next to me. “Come now, Thomas!” he cries at his cousin. “Do not be such a killjoy! One glass is not going to corrupt your ward, especially under your watchful tuition?”

  He laughs, and Lady Helena joins him, and I am anxious at once, my eyes darting from the man to my right to the one opposite me. Thomas looks superficially relaxed, and yet I sense an undercurrent of something else—something which is likely to result in my bottom being tanned. I squirm reflexively at the thought.

  “Would you like a glass of wine, Lydia?” He eyes me intently as he asks the question, those green eyes drilling into me.

  I open my mouth to answer, feeling the weight of all three dinner guests upon me. “Perhaps just a small glass, My Lord?” I reply, wondering already if I have said enough to warrant punishment. The prospect taunts me, and I can’t decide if it is fear or arousal I am feeling.

  There is silence, as everyone awaits the verdict of my guardian. At last he moves, reaching for his own glass as he speaks. “You have my permission,” he says, a small smile forming on his lips. I wonder if he has just decided in his own mind when and how he will punish me.

  “Excellent!” says Lord William, gesturing for the staff to fill my glass. A young footman complies at once.

  “Thank you,” I murmur, although I am not sure which of the men I am thanking in the end. I reach for the glass, feeling the weight of the crystal at my fingertips. Raising it steadily to my lips, I pause as the glass presses against the softness of my mouth. The aroma of the wine hits me, and all at once I can feel Thomas watching. He surveys the plum-coloured liquid as it falls past my lips, and as I swallow our eyes connect. The deed is done, his green orbs tell me, you have consumed the wine… I blink back at him, aware of both the threat and the promise those eyes hold for me.

  The warmth of the wine fills me, and after a few more sips, the conversation feels suddenly easier. It is at this time that Lord William turns to me and Thomas. “I must apologise for the behaviour of my wife earlier, Lydia,” he says rather matter-of-factly. “She has told me of the confidences you shared in the music room, and I am sure you agree that she has no business pressing you on such private matters.”

  My face heats in an instant. Seeing my mortified face, Thomas responds for both of us. “Thank you, William,” he says cheerily. “Lydia also informed me of the discussion. May I say that I was unsurprised?” He turns to Lady Helena as he speaks, and all three of them laugh.

  “Ah, well, yes—it is true. You, Thomas, know My Lady, but our new guest here does not.” Lord William turns to me directly as he goes on. “Needless to say Lady Pembroke has been soundly spanked for her insolence.”

  I gape at his words, uncertain whether to believe him or not. Do respectable people really speak of such things at the supper table? Seeing my face, it is Lady Helena who intervenes to my rescue. “Look now, William,” she says evenly, “you are embarrassing poor Lydia!”

  I take a deep drink of my wine, assessing her face and finding not one iota of shame there at all.

  “Oh, I do apologise,” smiles Lord William, his tone genuine. “Enough said on the matter for the time being then.”

  As I drain the last of the wine from my glass, I feel ready to play, deciding that at least it will be a distraction from this discomfiting topic of conversation. Politely I offer to perform for them.

  “Are you certain, Lydia?” probes Thomas with interest. “You seemed less keen just a short while ago.”

  Lord William laughs. “I told you the wine was good, cousin!” He raises his newly refilled glass, as if to offer a toast, and the two men laugh.

  “Let us retire then?” says Lady Helena happily. “I do so love music after a meal.”

  The four of us rise from the table, Lord William and his wife taking the lead as we pass from the elegant dining area, across the entrance way, and back to where the grand piano waits.

  As we walk, Thomas falls alongside me, reaching for my hand. “Are you sure you want to play, Lydia?” he asks me again. “I do not want you to be pressured into this thing.”

  I smile back at him, feeling absurdly relaxed after just one drink. “Yes, My Lord. Unless you would rather that I did not?”

  He grins at that. “Certainly not!” he replies. “I have long desired to hear your talent.”

  We enter the music room, lit beautifully by a number of flaming candelabra. I move immediately to the seat of the piano, taking my place and running my fingers once again over the ivory keys.

  “What should I play?” I ask the room, as the lords and lady around me take their places. “Do you have a favourite, Lady Helena?”

  “I have a great many,” she smiles in response, “but please, play as you will. Your improvised pieces earlier were a joy to behold.”

  Taking a deep breath, I prepare myself, catching Thomas’ eye in my periph
eral vision just as my digits stroke the first key. I play a few of my own preferred compositions, the sound of the upbeat music filling the air around us. Seated here, I feel almost free, the effort of producing the sound no real exertion at all. After a while, I switch pace, allowing the music to flow into something more powerful.

  “You are an exceptional pianist, Lydia.” I raise my head to find Lord William rising from his chair and smiling at me. “What an incredibly lucky gentleman your guardian is.”

  “Indeed I am,” agrees Thomas from my left.

  “What is this piece?” asks Lady Helena from behind Lord William.

  “It is a contemporary composition, My Lady,” I answer from over the sounds of the beautiful notes. “It is called Moonlight Sonata; do you enjoy it?”

  She rises from her seat, placing her glass on a small table nearby as she moves to join Lord William. “It is so entirely compelling,” she answers. “I feel as though I have to move to it. William, hold me…”

  She turns to her husband, her eyes smoky with some unspoken need. He wraps her up in his long arms, and they move together slowly in front of the piano. I witness the act of intimacy from my seat, feeling like I am intruding on something private, but glad to have the beautiful instrument and the melody to hide behind. I am so taken with the music that I do not immediately see Thomas moving, but all at once I find that he is behind me. He touches my exposed left shoulder, caressing it with one long finger. I turn my head to find his intense gaze raining down on me as I play.

  “You never told me you could play like this,” he says, his voice taking on an almost husky quality.

  I smile, pleased that he is enjoying my performance. “I rarely play anymore,” I answer. “At least, not since the earl passed…”

  He crouches beside me, watching my fingers run over the ivory keys. “That is a travesty, My Lady,” he says softly.

  He leans forward and presses his lips into my shoulder. I shiver at the touch, silently yearning for more of it, and yet all too aware that we are in company. “My Lord,” I gasp, my eyes darting back to the couple still swaying beyond the piano. “We are not alone!”