I am desolate that I cannot come to you now and explain myself in person, and overcome with fear that it might be too late to make amends for my behaviour.
She traced the words ‘desolate’ and ‘overcome’ with her fingertip, as if it were possible to soak up some of the emotion imbued in them. While she had not actually wanted the man to suffer, it was flattering to think that he had done so on her account.
I eagerly await our next meeting and am hoping that I may prove my undying loyalty to you.
Yours, David
He had undying loyalty and was hers. She doubted he had meant it to be so, but it was the closest thing she had ever got to a billet doux. No matter what happened between them, she would keep it always.
She had been angry with him after their last meeting. All that was sensible in her had argued that their association had been a mistake and would not end well. There was simply too much that she did not understand about the world outside Scofield House and the men that inhabited it. Perhaps he did not mean to use her, as Sterling had Miss Devereaux. But if she stood between him and his goals, she did not trust him to put her needs before his desire for revenge.
But though common sense had told her to forget him, when the time had come to plan her day, she had got out the directions he had given her and told Liv to prepare for another trip to Bond Street. She could not seem to resist seeing him again.
Perhaps she should blame Hugh and the strict rules he had set for her. Now that she had found a man willing to pay attention to her, it was difficult to let him go. Who knew when, or if, she would ever again have someone writing of his ‘undying loyalty’ to her? This might be her one and only chance to make memories that would have to last her through the cold isolation of spinsterhood.
That fear had inspired her to make the daring suggestion of meeting at night. They would be alone for far longer than they had ever been, in a place that had already been steeped in sin. If he acted on any of the things he had whispered to her the last time they had kissed, she did not think she would be able to stop him. Nor did she really want to stop him.
It was all very improper. Even her sister had warned her against risking anything more than kisses. It was proof that Liv knew less about love than she claimed. David’s apology letter might make her think of for ever. But what if that could never be? If tonight was the only time they had together, she would not refuse anything he might suggest.
* * *
After dinner, she pretended to retire early, checking on her sister, who was already in her room with Caesar planted on the end of her bed, worrying a pair of dancing slippers to shreds.
Then she went to her own room and summoned her maid, pinning her in place with a cold glare.
‘My lady?’ Jenny said nervously.
‘I am going out,’ she said. ‘You do not know where and you had best keep this secret better than you did my last one, or I will dismiss you.’
‘My lady,’ she said, with a scared nod, then added, ‘What do you wish to wear?’
For a moment, Peg considered dressing for seduction, then realised that even her best dinner gowns were quite modest, as befit a young lady who had not yet come out. Dressing up for this occasion would arouse nothing but the suspicions of her maid. Instead, she suggested her most plain and serviceable gown and a dark cloak that would hide her in the gloom as she made her way to the coach.
She looked at herself in the cheval glass and saw a woman who would not rate a second glance from even the most curious passer-by. She dismissed her maid and waited only a moment before creeping out into the hall, down the servants’ stairs to the kitchen and out into the garden. From there, it was only a short run to the back gate and out into the street. At the end of the street, she could see the glow of two carriage lamps and the dark silhouette of a man, waiting on the walkway.
As she hurried in his direction, she saw him straighten to open the carriage door before catching her hand as she came beside him, swinging her up into a seat, joining her and closing the door, all in one smooth gesture. Before she had said a word, they were off.
‘Lady Margaret, I presume?’ David said from his shady corner of the cab.
She pulled back the hood of her cloak. ‘It is fortunate that I am. You might have picked up a stranger off the street for all the time you took to check.’
She could see his smile in the gloom. ‘Never. I would know you even in darkness.’
Perhaps it was the tone he used when he spoke the words, but there was something more than just confident familiarity there. It was as if he knew her because he had seen her a million times, in light and darkness and dreams. She remained quiet, her mouth dry from a sudden attack of nerves.
‘I have brought extra candles and a lantern, if we should need one in our search,’ he said, leaving her imagination behind and continuing in a most ordinary and practical way. ‘They are probably not necessary—it is not as if we are exploring a cave—but it pays to be prepared.’
Was this an ordinary conversation? Or was he speaking a little too fast, as if trying to fill the empty air between them? Perhaps it was just the clandestine nature of their mission. Or perhaps it was because he was with her in a place where they both knew they should not be.
Now, he was looking at her, waiting for some response to anything he had said. ‘You are unusually quiet this evening.’
She smiled and let out the breath she had been holding. ‘I was trying to be so very quiet while leaving the house, I had forgotten it was safe to speak again.’
It did not matter if he believed this confusing explanation, he laughed at it and touched her hand. ‘You are safe now. Safe as I can keep you, at least,’ he added, lifting the back curtain of the carriage to make sure they had not been followed. ‘It will be quite embarrassing if Scofield decides to use his rooms, now that we are on our way to them.’
‘He was reading by the fire when I left him,’ she said, relieved that she could put this worry to rest. ‘When he is thus absorbed, he usually does not leave the chair until the book is done or the fire goes out.’
She could see a little of the tension go out of her partner. ‘Excellent. It will be just us, then.’
‘Just us,’ she agreed.
They both fell silent for a moment, as if realising what that might mean.
Suddenly, the carriage jerked to a stop in front of their destination. Peg flipped the hood of her cloak back up to hide her face and let David help her out on to the street and quickly into the building, shutting the door behind them and rummaging in his pocket for the flint to light the candle he was holding. ‘Make sure the curtains are closed in all the rooms,’ he suggested as the light caught. ‘We do not want to make the neighbours suspicious.’
She did as she was told, moving quickly from room to room to make sure that no ray of light escaped to the street. Then she turned to look around the little apartment, lit in candlelight. It was a pleasing arrangement of rooms, charmingly decorated. If one did not know what it was used for, it was possible to covet the space and the privacy that one did not get in the main Scofield town house, or the great house in the country.
She could not help but find it cosy and much more romantic than it had been in daylight. She could easily imagine her brother retreating here to visit one woman or another. The thought made her blush, but it also raised a hint of desire. This was a place where anything could happen and no one would be the wiser.
But as yet David had not asked anything of her. Assumptions might lead to disappointment. And it was probably unladylike to demand that he seduce her immediately, when there was still work to be done. ‘Why have you not searched these rooms already?’ she asked, running a hand along the back of a sofa.
He hesitated. ‘It belonged to Miss Devereaux during the time I was most interested in. And I have no evidence that your brother used it at all during the time your father was al
ive.’
‘I doubt he’d have had the money to keep a separate residence then,’ she agreed. ‘Most of their arguments were about how parsimonious Father was with allowances.’ She went to the bookshelves, picking up a current novel and setting it back in its place. ‘Even so, you have had the key to these rooms for some time. Why did you decide to wait until I was able to help you do the searching?’
Was it her imagination, or had the question made him blush? It was hard to tell in the flickering light, but his ears seemed decidedly pink. ‘You know your brother better than I do,’ he said at last. ‘The search will likely be more productive with your help.’
She had hoped he would admit that he wanted to be alone with her. Instead, his answer was the sensible one that she should have expected and she had to agree with it. ‘If Hugh has retained the place when there is no resident, he must use it for his own purposes on occasion. I should think, if there are things he does not want his sisters to see, he would hide them here.’
‘An interesting theory,’ he said with a smile. ‘And one that might not have occurred to me on my own.’
‘Do not flatter me,’ she said, taking down the books and paging through them, one by one. ‘I need to be home before dawn and we have little time to waste.’
They went through the main room without finding anything of interest. The dining room was empty, as well. There was a small kitchen and a maid’s room, both of which were devoid of any personal possessions that might be of interest.
Then they arrived at the bedroom. The wardrobe and dressers were empty, except for a very informative book of etchings in the table by the bed. She sat down on the edge of the bed and paged through it for a moment, before David came to her side and took it away, blushing.
‘Surely you are not as innocent as I am,’ she said, for there were things in the pictures that she had no idea were possible, much less done by decent people.
‘I have more than enough experience to know what you are looking at,’ he said, hiding a grin. He sat down beside her, holding the book just out of reach. ‘It is meant to inspire passion.’
It was certainly inspiring something. Even after the brief glance she had got, her insides felt most peculiar. ‘And do you often use such things?’
‘Such things are not usually necessary when one is in the presence of a woman like you,’ he said, placing the book back in her hands.
She opened it slowly, mesmerised by the image of a woman on her back, skirts hoisted to the waist, legs spread wide with her lover standing half-dressed between them. It was the most innocent of the drawings she had glanced at, yet it heated her blood in a most unexpected way.
When she looked up at David, it was to discover that he was not admiring the drawing, but staring at her, eyes hungry, his mouth set in an enigmatic smile. ‘Does that interest you?’
‘I...’ She could not decide what to say. It fascinated her, as any forbidden fruit might. It represented everything that she was not supposed to know and not supposed to do, things she should not even ask about in the privacy of her rooms.
But now she was in a place even more private than her own home, knowing they would not be interrupted for hours. She knew she should be frightened, or at least hesitant. Instead, she felt strange. Her clothes seemed to fit too tightly, her gown rubbing against swollen breasts, her legs heavy, wanting to spread like the girl in the picture, if only to allow some of the growing heat in her body to escape.
David stepped closer to her again, taking the book and setting it aside so it did not block the space between them. Then he bent down and kissed her on the mouth. She opened her lips for him, running her hands down the front of his waistcoat, trying to undo the buttons so she might touch the linen of his shirt.
He stopped the kiss for a moment, clasping her hands in his. ‘Are you sure you know what you are asking for?’
‘I have never been so certain in my life,’ she said. It was a lie, of course. No amount of picture books could really explain what she suspected was to happen between them.
He shook his head and kissed her again, on the mouth and then the throat, tugging at the neckline of her gown until he found the buttons that held the front panel in place. He released them, one after the other, revealing the panel beneath that acted as her stays. He paused again, a finger hooked in the lacing. ‘I hope you are sure, because we are about to do things that cannot be undone, should you realise you were wrong.’
He was trying to frighten her into retreat, but she did not want to stop. A chance like this, a man like this, might never come again. She wanted to enjoy each moment to the fullest. So she pushed his hand out of the way and unlaced the front of her gown, feeling her breasts slide down beneath the fabric of her shift.
He kissed her again, leaning forward until his fists pressed the mattress on either side of her hips. Then, his mouth dropped to her breasts, seeking out her nipples to suck them through the sheer cotton fabric that covered them.
Her back arched as he devoured her and her hands flailed, settling on the knot of his cravat, loosening it and pushing it out of the way so she could touch the skin of his throat, feeling it move as he kissed her.
He raised his head and put a hand to the back of her neck, urging her forward until her lips grazed the spot on his own neck where his pulse was beating. She pressed kisses there and into the hollows of his neck and shoulder, until he moaned and raised his hands to her breasts, massaging them in time to the sucking of her kisses. ‘You are driving me mad,’ he whispered, freeing one of his hands to grab hers and press them against the front panel of his breeches so she could feel the hard manhood beneath.
‘Is that good?’ she asked, confused.
‘Very good,’ he whispered back. ‘It is the most delicious kind of torture. The only relief will come when I have made you mine. Not just for now, but for ever.’
‘Show me,’ she said.
He reached to the floor and bunched her skirts up to her waist, allowing himself a single glance down and a deep sigh before looking into her eyes again. ‘If you give me a lifetime, I will show you things that even that silly picture book cannot imagine. I want all of you, Peg, heart and soul and body.’ With the tip of one finger on her chin, he brought her lips back to his for a brief kiss to seal his words.
‘I am yours,’ she said, arching her back, urging him to touch her.
In response, he pushed her back upon the bed and stepped between her knees as the man in the picture had done. His hands smoothed up the insides of her legs until he reached the place where her stockings ended so he could caress the flesh of her inner thighs.
She twitched, surprised at how sensitive the skin was, even more surprised as his fingers moved higher, settling at the delta where her legs met. At first, his touch relaxed her, making her legs fall open to give him better access. Then the pressure of his fingers increased, as did the pressure inside her body.
‘You are mine,’ he reminded her as his fingers grazed the opening of her body.
Muscles she’d never felt before were now on edge, flexing, preparing for use. She felt an urgent need for something she did not yet understand.
‘You are mine and I am yours to do with as you please. I have been from the first moment I saw you, Peg Bethune. One look and I was lost.’ He slipped a finger into her body and she was lost, as well. Her mind flashed to the pictures she had glimpsed in the bedside book and she reached for the buttons on his breeches, fumbling with them, eager to free him so they could find each other.
When she had released him, she was sure she had found the torture he had described before. He was hard in a way that must surely be painful, his member springing away from his body as if it longed for her touch. Hesitantly, she circled it with her palm, stroking once from root to tip.
His hand moved against her body, the fingers pressing deep into the soft wetness of it, moving in time to the be
ating of her heart. ‘This may hurt you at first,’ he whispered. ‘Know that I love you and do not wish to cause you pain. I love you and, if you need me to, I will stop.’ But there was agony in his voice, as if he made the admission against his will.
‘Go on,’ she urged, spreading her legs wider, lifting them as the girl in the picture had until her knees were bent and her feet rested on the mattress.
‘Soon,’ he groaned. ‘Soon, my love.’ The need inside her increased to uncontrollable desire as his fingers moved in and out of her body, his thumb brushing against a place of infinite sensitivity. She could hear herself begging, crooning his name as the pleasure took her last inhibitions away, her hand tightening on his member until he gasped.
Then he pulled his hand aside and stepped forward, pressing against her, letting her guide him past the point of pain and into her.
There was a moment of profound stillness when she knew her body was not totally her own. Then he clasped her hands in his, fingers twined, locking them together as tightly as their bodies were joined. He squeezed them, rubbing her palms lightly with his thumbs and making her shiver all over again. ‘Even once we are gone from this place, remember this moment. We are together now, as I want us to be, my love. Now and for ever.’
He began to move. She focused on the feeling of his hands holding hers, firm but gentle, anchoring her to earth, as the pleasure came again, strong as a storm that was trying to wash her away from him. She would not lose him. Not now, not ever. She wrapped her legs around his hips and tightened her body around him, wanting to hold him there for ever, one with her.
The action seemed to drive him towards the same madness she felt and strokes became thrusts which became a trembling shuddering rush that raised an answering quaking in her. It rolled through them like thunder until she was sure that the house must be rocked from its foundations with the strength of their passion.
Then, the storm inside them broke, subsiding gradually into a mutual, exhausted suspiration.
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