Her face was still, calm. Perhaps that was the way she always looked. Phoebe had expected recriminations at best and outright disdain at worst, but she had not received it.
“I-I will d-do my best, ma’am.”
“I know you will, my dear. You must make the role the one you want it to be. Never copy the way anyone else filled the position. I made that mistake for the first five years after I married, but my husband tired of my trilling laugh and utter misery, as he put it. My mother-in-law was a brilliant, beautiful, witty woman. I am not.”
No, she was stately, tranquil, and haughty.
Phoebe would be shy, silent, and reticent. Not a very good pattern for a duchess. “I w-will do what I c-can.”
“I’m sure you will, and you will have my grandson by your side.”
She glared at Leo, who gave her a smooth nod.
“She will indeed.” He pressed her hand. “I am considering traveling to the country early.”
Angela made a strangled noise in her throat, to which Leo directed a raised brow.
“You have something to say?”
“I hate to remind you, Leomore, but there’s the matter of the necklace.”
“That will die,” the dowager said. “A new scandal will come along any minute.”
Angela flicked the skirts of her gown, then smoothed them in a pointless gesture that gave her time. “Lady Latimer will not let it die. She is adding more scandalous talk, and to further it she is attending at least one ball every night and, in between, making appearances at the theater. If you leave the stage for her now, she will take advantage of it.”
“That seems unnecessarily spiteful,” the duchess said, having recourse to her glass of wine again. “What does she have to gain?”
“She hates us,” Leo pointed out.
“Her family always has detested ours. This is her chance to wreak her revenge. I have received notes from several anxious creditors today, including the ship that has just docked from the East Indies. I have naturally reassured them all in your absence, Leomore, although you must also do so. She is using that necklace to create more trouble for us.”
Angela nodded. “I have my suspicions on this affair, and I am making enquiries. Pray give me a little time if you can.”
Leo tipped his head against the back of the chair, his mouth flattening in exasperation. “The woman is a menace.”
“And the death of that woman?” Angela said. “The one killed for a copy of the Latimer necklace?”
Leo frowned. “Not a matter to be discussed in the presence of ladies.”
Phoebe laughed. “D-Don’t be so stuffy, Leo! You t-told me yourself.”
Angela gave a delicate snort. “Phoebe is not a delicate flower to be protected from the world.” Having rebuked Leo, she turned her attention fully to Phoebe. “Neither, I’ll be bound, is the duchess. The dowager, I mean,” she added with a laughing glance at Phoebe.
Phoebe was startled into saying, “Isn’t that in extremely bad taste? T-To g-give a woman like that a c-copy of a family p-piece?”
Beside her, Leo broke into startled laughter. “Yes, my dear, it is in bad taste.”
Angela glared at Leo. “Tell her everything, or I will.”
“Everything?” Phoebe turned an enquiring gaze to her new husband.
Leo closed his eyes. “I saw her. I was about to question her on her copy of the necklace, but I was too late.”
“You found her? Oh no!” Reaching for his hand, Phoebe clutched it tightly, trying to convey her sympathy.
“Did you rush off to m-marry me because of this?”
“No. I came to you because you were abducted by a man who would have forced you to marry him.”
“Altruistic, then?”
He had the grace to drop his gaze. A tinge of color touched his cheekbones, then was gone. “Not exactly. You were mine, Phoebe. Nobody would take you away from me.”
“I am not a p-p-parcel.” She was not, and her anger was bringing her stammer back. She felt the constriction in her throat and stopped to take a mouthful of the wine, and let it ease her tension away.
“You are not, and now you are my wife. I will not have you disturbed in that way. I do not think that my old connection with the woman had anything to do with her murder. She had a copy of the Latimer diamonds, and I have no doubt she was killed for them. Someone thought they were real.”
“So Lord Latimer gave this woman the copy.” The dowager drummed her fingers on the arm of her chair. “Or did he?”
“I am sure of it,” Leo said firmly.
“It’s a family piece,” Angela said, as if that explained everything.
Would Leo stray from her side? Oh, not immediately, but what did she have to offer a man like him? Even the thought pierced her to the core, so that she gasped and closed her eyes.
Beside her, Leo got to his feet. “Enough for one day,” he said firmly. “Miss Childers, you are welcome to stay, if you wish. Grandmama, we will wish you a good night. Evidently Phoebe and I are fixed in London for a little while longer, but we have taken matters as far as we can for one day. Come, my dear.”
Phoebe opened her eyes to see he was holding his hand out to her. Wordlessly, she took it and got to her feet.
Angela smiled at her warmly. “I will take my leave.” Getting to her feet, she flicked her elaborate gown into place. She did not seem to be a woman who planned to have an early night. “I’m due at Ranelagh Gardens, and since I have lost my companion in the most felicitous circumstances, I have dragged Miss Helmers from her sick bed. Much to her disgust. I must collect her from my house and then tow her along to the pleasure gardens, where we are to join a group of music lovers. Mr. Handel has promised us a new piece tonight.”
If she was still at Angela’s, Phoebe would have accompanied her. Guilt suffused her, but at least Angela would not miss her treat.
* * * *
Outside her bedroom, Leo clasped her hands and brought them up between their bodies. “I’ll come to you in an hour.”
Then he turned and left her. An hour. Goodness. She would have believed he was completely in control, planning a kind but dispassionate act, were it not for the fire in his eyes.
Phoebe opened the door to her bedroom with hands that trembled. Her new maid waited within.
She had to admit that getting ready for bed was less stressful with a mostly silent woman helping her to undress, wash and don the night rail. Tying a pretty cap over her brushed-out hair, Hatch left her with a nod and a smile, just like it was any normal night. Which it would be fairly soon, although to Phoebe this night felt completely out of time. She had persuaded the maid to call her “ma’am” in private, much more comfortable than all the Your Graces. She had to get used to it, but not in her own place.
Leo entered after a short knock. He wore a colorful banyan over his clothes; otherwise he seemed fully dressed. But as he entered, he pulled off his neckcloth and threw it aside, revealing his bare throat. His air of calm left him as he closed the door, and she realized that was for anyone lurking outside, and probably his valet. He reached her in a few quick strides, and then she was in his arms.
Her nerves settled, and she smiled up at him, expecting his kiss.
Instead he gazed down at her, and her smile faded. “I’m a lucky man.”
Then, before she could ask him what he meant, he kissed her. His hands spread over her back, claiming her, drawing her into him with a surety that made her melt. He slid his palms slowly down as he plunged his tongue into her mouth, tasting her deeply. Already she knew his flavor, that essentially masculine spice that belonged to him alone. When she wasn’t kissing him, she craved it.
He made a small sound, a low groan, and she responded as he sent it down her throat, to enter the heart of her. Claiming her. Although they stood in a luxurious chamber in a Mayfair mansion, they
could have been in a cave, with the fire crackling at the entrance to keep the wild beasts away and straw for their bedding.
With her eyes closed, and his body pressing against hers, nothing else mattered.
She recognized the power he had over her. Not the rights of a man over his wife, but a man over a woman. But he had also shown her the reverse. Although she was not sure about that. Tonight she would learn.
He covered her buttocks, pressed her into his erection. Although he wore breeches under the banyan, the fabric didn’t prevent her feeling it or gasping in response. Tonight she would know its power and enter into the world forever closed to lonely spinsters.
She could not count herself among that number anymore. Or ever again. And she couldn’t wait for it to be gone.
On the other hand, he didn’t seem to be in any hurry. He kissed her for long minutes, holding her close, until she moaned into his mouth, sucked his tongue and tried to push the mood further. He drew away, gazing at her with sultry eyes. “I want you so much, sweetness. Knowing you are mine and yet keeping away nearly killed me. No more waiting.”
Enough to push her body into preparing itself for him. She knew it now. If he could do that by just looking at her, she was lost.
But she wasn’t the only one. He felt it too.
“Come.” Taking her hand, he led her to the side of the bed. Then faced her again and scanned her, his gaze so hot he made prickles ride up her spine. “How can I want you this badly?”
Admitting his need freed her. She could express her own, although she had never told anyone her inner thoughts, never been so frank with a single soul before. “I want you too. So much.”
When she licked her dry lips, his gaze tracked the movement until she stilled. Then he put his hands around her waist, so slowly, and drew her closer for another kiss. But only a taste. He was smiling when he lifted his head. “Shall we take this to bed?”
“Oh yes.”
“Lie down. I’ll join you in a moment.”
When she touched her night rail, he shook his head. “I’ll do that.”
So she lay on the crisp, clean sheets, so different to the rough ecru sheets of their night in the inn. They had scratched. These were smooth, ironed, finely woven. The texture enticed her as her senses sharpened and she lay down, not pulling the covers up and over herself. What would be the point? They’d be gone in a few moments.
He stripped. When he unhooked his robe, it was with clear and slow deliberation, one by one, teasing her. Tossing it behind him, he started on his breeches. He had already removed the buckles. But this wasn’t a repeat of the night at the inn. It was the continuation.
This time she wasn’t as panicked, as distressed, as she’d been then. Smoothly he’d taken over and made everything right for her. And him? She still wasn’t sure. He was not a forthcoming man. Knowing his early history, she suspected there was a lot more to his character than anyone knew.
Looking at him now, she could understand why he would incite that kind of emotion. Because he was beautiful. Tonight he was hers, and that was all that mattered until dawn broke.
Golden light from the candles that ringed the room, from the branch on the dressing table to the pairs in the sconces on the wall opposite, to the ones set in shielded stands high up on the bed, delineated his body. He was strong, his shoulders broad, his arms bulging with muscle. “Do you enjoy exercise?” she asked before she could stop herself. That was getting to be a habit when she was with him.
“Yes.” He smiled. “What a strange question! Do you?”
“I like riding. With my p-parents, I had to.”
Completely comfortable in his own skin, he sauntered to the bed and leaned over her. “Your turn. Sit up.”
Her heart in her throat, she did as he bade her, rucking up the night rail and unfastening the buttons at the cuffs. He pulled the tapes at her throat free, the one tying the nightcap to her head and the other at the neck of her night rail.
He pulled the bows free with a finality that she was only too eager to help him with. He tugged the garment over her head, obscuring her vision, her hair falling over her face. Impatiently she shoved the dark locks back behind her shoulders, smoothing them automatically. Then she met his eyes.
Chapter 20
Leo’s gaze passed over her. Any hint of coolness, of planning, had gone. Her throat went dry. She swallowed. “It cannot be a shock to you. You’ve seen plenty of women before. You s-saw me last night. I’m…”
He caught her hands. “Beautiful. You’re beautiful, Phoebe.”
Her heart went out to him even as she wondered if he was only saying these things, looking at her like that, to make tonight easier for her and to put their marriage on a good footing.
Not because she didn’t trust him, but because this was new territory for her. She had no experience, no idea how to behave, what to do. So she had to lean on him more than she would like. But only in the near future. She would learn.
And tonight she would enjoy.
Slowly he leaned over her, easing her to lie on her back. The sheets were smooth and cool, but his body heat warmed her. Pressing his hands either side of her head, he gazed at her, lowering his head to claim another kiss, fierce but brief. His taste and his scent surrounded her, the heady potency making her glad she had a solid surface beneath her. “Touch me,” he demanded.
At first tentative, she stroked his shoulders, his skin hot and smooth, then cupped them to feel his strength, then slid her hands down his arms, enjoying his leashed power. He watched her, his dark eyes sparkling with fire and need. Were hers the same? Because she wanted him so badly she could barely think straight.
He remained still, propped above her as she grew bolder. When she spread her hands over the expanse of his back, a muscle twitched, and he flexed as he shifted position slightly. The silence between them crackled and popped with anticipation. He would take her tonight, make her his. She longed to reciprocate, but she didn’t have the power, or the knowledge. “I don’t know what to do,” she confessed, but she continued to caress him, bringing her hands to his front and tracing the powerful muscles of his torso.
“Exactly what you’re doing now. This is perfect.”
Hot breath washed over her when she touched his nipples, tugged on the tips. His teeth snapped together, and he sucked in air. “No more. I want you too much.”
With an ease that spoke of suppleness and strength, Leo lifted one hand, his body rebalancing as he held his upper weight on one arm. He slid his free hand under her breasts, tracing each, watching her response. Her nipples, already tight, pulled further, became even more sensitive as he lowered his head slowly, so slowly, to kiss around them and lick them.
His hand stroked her, across her belly and down to her thighs, until he pushed one finger between them. “Open your legs, sweetheart.”
Eagerly Phoebe did so, and he rewarded her by caressing her, stroking down to her opening. Only this time, he did not skirt it. Lifting his head, he met her gaze. “I want to see every second of this. Keep your eyes open, Phoebe, watch what I do. Let me see what it does to you.”
Phoebe had never known such intimacy existed. She watched him as he pushed one finger gently inside her. He took his time, easing his way past the partial barrier to her body. She tensed but didn’t say anything. He continued, but even slower.
She had not realized she was so sensitive inside. As he breached the place nobody had gone before, not even Phoebe herself, he smiled. “Good. Now another.”
“Oh!”
Another finger joined the first. And still she watched him. As he touched her, she discovered places of sensitivity, places that sent shocks through every part of her, little thrills feathering through her body. He began to ease in. Discomfort made her squirm, a sense of pressure she didn’t know how to react to.
A sound came from the powder room. Phoebe jolt
ed and broke their visual contact, her cry of shock forcing him to pull out of her. He cupped her cheek to bring her attention back to him. She smelled herself on him, an intimate scent she had never felt so close to her before. “They won’t come in. They are strictly forbidden to do so. They are merely setting up a bath.”
“I need a bath?”
He smiled. “You might, later. I won’t have you in any discomfort, Phoebe. This should be a night of pleasure.”
“Or a twenty minutes.” She smiled at her feeble joke, inviting him to join her.
He didn’t. “I said a night, and I meant it.”
Goodness! Could she do it? She had read that the first time hurt, and sometimes after that, too. The library at Angela’s house was most informative. Between the financial tomes lay an eclectic collection of reading matter. But that only told her what went where, which she already knew. After a few poems extolling the physical union between man and woman were hints that the first time wouldn’t be pleasant. Words like ripped, torn, and blood did not sound like the pleasurable experience the poets promised.
But she had to do this. And after, she would enjoy it. He had made their one night together pleasurable in the extreme. She had no fears tonight, or that he would deliberately hurt her.
“Lift your knees, Phoebe.”
Doing as he told her, she hugged his flanks with her thighs, keeping him close. His shaft nuzzled at her center, slid into the wetness and along the folds. “You feel good.” His voice was shaky. “I can’t remember anything this good before.”
That had to be a positive sign, didn’t it? “But you—”
With a small shake of his head, he bent to touch his lips to hers, then straightened once more. “Only us tonight, sweetheart. I don’t want anybody else in my bed but you.”
She felt obliged to remind him. “But this is my bed.”
The smile widened. “So it is.”
The rounded tip of his manhood pushed in firmly, nestling just inside her opening. Gently he rotated, but kept his movements barely there, shallow. Lifting her hands, she grasped his shoulders for support.
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