That’s it,” he crooned as he brought a hand between them and guided his cock closer, until he had notched it more firmly against the opening to her body. Tension pulled her tight as he contacted the barrier blocking his way, and the sense of pressure returned. “Hold me tight, sweetheart. Let’s do this together.”
He teased her opening, making her sigh. Already she felt better, her body slick and ready. So ready. He removed his hand and put it back on the mattress, supporting himself once more. “Ready?”
She nodded.
He withdrew a little, the tip barely inside her and then thrust hard.
He braced himself, the tip of his cock barely touching her and then thrust hard. “Ah!” Her wordless cry marked her passage from virgin to wife. A sharp pain arced through her as he pierced her and drove in deep.
No amount of reading could have prepared her for this, such a deep connection with another person. Lowering himself, he pressed against her, his chest hard against the softness of her breasts. His heart pumped against her, the throbbing echoed by the movements of his erection inside her.
Tiny movements as he explored her intimately, a little at a time. “It’s done,” he said, and his smile returned. “I didn’t want to hurt you, and I will never do so again, but that was necessary.”
The pain receded, and a sense of wonder replaced it. “You might.”
“Sweet Phoebe, never knowingly.”
Physically, at any rate. Her grip on him tightened as his movements grew more determined, increasing in strength. Beads of sweat popped out on his brow. He couldn’t be nervous, and this could not be taxing his strength, surely. “What is it?”
“I’m trying to be gentle. But I want you so much.” His tones rumbled through her, enriching and broadening what she was experiencing.
“I want you, too.” But she had a vaguer idea of what that meant. She was learning fast. Experimentally she pushed against him, tilting her hips to bring herself in closer alignment to him. His balls nuzzled her buttocks, the furry surface tickling her sensitive skin.
His responding groan delighted Phoebe. “Very well, madam. Prepare yourself.”
She was still chuckling when he pulled nearly all the way out and thrust back in.
Suddenly everything made sense. Her body knew what to do, even if she didn’t, and she gave herself up to her instincts. As he thrust into her, she met him, their bodies clashing together, then pulling back and in again.
Sensations built inside her. He kissed her, taking her mouth in time to the rhythm of their bodies, his tongue thrusting in, caressing and withdrawing. Holding on tight, Phoebe entered the dance, letting him take her where he would, eagerly following, responding and finally initiating.
She roamed his body, his muscles moving under her hands, sweat-slicked as both increased their exertions. Crying out into his mouth, she pulled away, gasping for air, refusing to stop. A tinge of rawness remained, but only served to drive her further, toward the peak that lay just beyond her reach.
Chasing it, forgetting everything else, Phoebe’s body blossomed and came to life. Heat swelled and burst, numbing her thoughts, forcing her into the present, where the past and the future could not exist.
Tilting her head back, she cried out. If servants lurked next door, who cared? She could not have stopped herself if they were standing at the bottom of the bed watching. The notion was so real that she turned her head. But of course they were alone.
Leo groaned. The tendons on his neck stood out as he gave a sharp cry, his cock pulsing out its release deep inside Phoebe’s body.
He slumped over her, but even then, after a brief time when she could only breathe lightly, he forced himself up, using his elbows and forearms to support his weight. And she could breathe again.
“Ohhh.”
The low groan came from him. Phoebe lay there, recovering her breath as he hung over her for long moments. Then, after kissing her shoulder, he hoisted himself up and off her, until he was standing on the floor. His gaze was just as hot, but lazy satiation lurked there now.
A gush of liquid left her body when he did, and she felt uncomfortable, but before she could clamp her legs together, he was there, hauling her up to join him. “Let’s take that bath,” he murmured, swinging her up into his arms.
“I can walk.” Even though she loved his arms around her, she had to point that out.
“Let me pamper you. You will be surprised at your responses.” He kissed her, his lips firm against hers. “I was right. You’re a sensual creature, my wife.”
The tub in the powder room was considerably larger than the one at the inn, and already filled, a cloth draped over it to keep the water warm. This time he stepped in and sank down with her still in his arms. She let him settle her between his legs, her back to his front. “It is done. We can’t go back now.”
“Do you want to?” When she would have turned to face him, Leo held her firmly in place.
“No. Not one bit. I couldn’t be happier. You’re lovely, Phoebe, and so responsive you take my breath away.”
“Oh.” Try as she might, she couldn’t think of a response or a way to express her doubts. What had just happened had shaken her to the core, far more than a mere physical act should have done. As if he’d penetrated through to her very soul and claimed it. But had he left anything in return?
Those doubts plagued her even now. Uncertainty filled her until she shoved them aside and relaxed into his arms in the warm water.
Now she heard footsteps next door. “What are they doing now?”
“Bringing us food. And probably changing the sheets.”
Her flush heated the water around her, at least it felt that way. “You mean they will see?”
His chuckle did not reassure her. “In the old days they’d take the sheet and hang it out of the window to prove that you’re a wife in truth. I had not planned to change the sheets myself, and if they don’t remove the old ones, we’ll go to my room after we’ve eaten.”
“I’m just not used to this level of attention. Besides, how did they know?”
“If nobody heard your scream outside, I would be surprised.”
“Oh no!”
He dropped a kiss on her shoulder, then another on her neck before urging her face to one side so he could kiss her lips too. “I love it,” he told her when he lifted his mouth from hers. “I love that you are mine, that everybody knows it. Never hold back, Phoebe, not in bed, I beg you.”
“You don’t have to beg.”
His smile melted her. “I will if it gets me what we just shared. I’ll go down on my knees every night for you.”
Chapter 21
They had three days. Nights filled with sleepless glory, days filled with social events. Phoebe attended balls, accepted felicitations and watched society gossip about her. She saw the caricatures in the print shops, the scandal-sheet sellers bawling her name and pretended to ignore it all. She was a duchess. The numbing ceremonial aspects intimidated her until the dowager firmly took her in hand and told her what was expected of her.
“Be yourself, my dear. Nothing else. If you do not want to do something, don’t do it. And don’t explain, just walk away.” They were standing in the small parlor, a sunny room overlooking the garden. One of the pleasures of being a duchess was her beautiful surroundings, Phoebe was learning.
Sharing tea, drank from delicate china dishes, Phoebe was wearing one of her new gowns, hurriedly assembled for her by Her Grace’s mantua-maker. With more to come. The dowager had encouraged her to make her own selections with the same advice, but now Phoebe gave voice to her fears. “B-But who am I? How d-do I know when something is right?”
“Difficult.” The dowager’s tones softened. Although a formidable lady, of a decided and dazzling style, she was giving Phoebe access to the woman inside the gloss, something Phoebe appreciated more every day. �
��We are to a certain extent made by our pasts. Take your husband.”
She raised a brow. Phoebe nodded for her to continue. She was hungry for information about Leo.
“You know his background, of course. His parents were undisciplined. They would have called it wild or something equally romantic. But the truth was, they disrupted on purpose. They cared for nothing but themselves. I say this even though I loved my son. But I could never control him, because he was the only child and my husband indulged him. By the time my son married, he had no control. They bled the estate white, and if my husband had not left a few properties in trust and the entail was so extensive, they’d have ruined us.”
She took another sip. “Leo saw it all. They kept him with them as a pet, dressed him in the best French lace and silk, then chastised him when he did what boys do and got grass stains on his coat, or tore his breeches climbing trees. I could do nothing, or I thought not. The day I took him away from them was the day when I accepted my part in my son’s ruin. I refused to allow it to happen again, to let Leo turn into the kind of wastrel my son was. They died shortly after.”
She paused and gave Phoebe a sharp look. “You are the duchess. You must be the duchess, in spite of events or disappointments or even admiration. I was adored.” She grimaced, her fine-cut lips, so like her son’s, turning down. “Not by my family, but by society. I was considered a beauty, a wit, and I started to believe what I was told. They wanted a repeat of my mother-in-law.” She wagged her finger in warning. “Never follow the role society wants to slot you into. Discover who you are and then live up to it.”
“They will not adore me. Half of society believes I’m a thief.”
The dowager shrugged. “What if they do? What does that matter? You are the Duchess of Leomore. Behave like it.”
Yes, yes she was. And the dowager was right.
“About those gowns,” she said. “I would like to cancel the olive-green one and go with the ultramarine one instead.”
“I knew you’d see sense.”
* * * *
Her husband having gone about his business, Phoebe went to visit the Society for Single Ladies, because they always met on Thursdays. And she wanted to see her friends again. But this time she arrived in the carriage her husband had assigned to her, with two footmen and a driver in attendance.
Angela met her at the door. “Goodness, aren’t we grand!” Before Phoebe could stop her, she swept into a deep curtsey. “Your Grace is welcome,” she murmured and rose steadily, to meet Phoebe’s eyes. She was smiling.
Phoebe shook her head. “Please, Angela, this is all so f-foolish!”
Angela led the way into the cool hall that Phoebe knew so well. The footmen bowed to her. “Not at all. Don’t worry, in no time at all you’ll come to expect it.”
Phoebe couldn’t imagine that happening. But she followed Angela to the rooms set aside for the club, feeling a sense of coming home to a place she belonged. Except she would not belong for too much longer, because she was a married woman. She did not belong here anymore.
A dozen women sat there, the informal arrangement conducive to conversation. All got to their feet and curtseyed. Phoebe gave them the same obeisance back. They deserved it. These women endured what was sometimes miserable lives, and they did it cheerfully. But for the twist of fate that threw her into Leo’s arms, she would have been of their number.
“Thank you, ladies.” She drew out the reason for her visit. “I know I don’t belong here anymore, s-s-so I’ve brought this b-b-b-back.” She handed Angela the silver pin, her fingers lingering on the polished surface.
But Angela pressed it back into her hands. “No, it is yours. We have been talking, and we’ve agreed that we should institute honorary membership. This is yours to keep, Phoebe.”
Tears in her eyes, Phoebe closed her fingers over the pin. This small piece of jewelry meant so much more to her than the diamonds and rubies she now owned. In the four days of her marriage, Leo had shown her some family pieces and given her jewels of her own, overwhelming her. “Th-thank you.”
“Not at all.” Angela’s bright blue eyes twinkled. “In any case, with our new occupations, we need the help of people in high places.”
Phoebe laughed aloud, and the ladies joined her. Soon, apart from her fine new clothes, she felt as if she’d only been away a short time and had come home. Talking and listening, she moved between the tables and found a seat next to Miss Collinge.
Naturally they discussed the Latimer diamonds. “I understand there were copies,” the lady said.
Phoebe nodded. “There usually are.” As she’d learned to her surprise. Even Leo had copies of the family pieces, though he used them to distract thieves, hiding them in badly concealed strongboxes. “So the thieves went after the copies.” Then a notion burned into her brain. “Why would they do that?”
Miss Collinge, a young lady who’d had her season and not snagged a husband, nodded, her dark ringlets bouncing against her neck. “Exactly.”
“Perhaps the thieves fell out,” Miss Manners suggested.
“And La Coccinelle was involved with the theft?” Phoebe was quick to add.
The room fell silent, but only for a second. Phoebe glanced around. “What? Am I not supposed to know about my husband’s one-time mistress?”
“Not at all.” Miss Manners covered her hand briefly, and Phoebe caught sympathy in her gaze. “Every man needs a mistress, at least that is what I’ve heard.”
Lady Dorothea Rowland, who was sitting across the room, snorted. “Gentlemen have no more excuse than ladies do. Why should they continue to behave after their marriages how they did before?”
Miss Manners was quick to defend Phoebe, when all eyes turned in her direction. “We have no proof of anything. For all we know…” Her voice trailed off.
Seated next to Lady Dorothea, Angela shot Phoebe a sympathetic smile. “Indeed, we know nothing. But we will always stand your friend.”
“Let us speak plainly,” Lady Dorothea said. “I believe that dissimulation causes more hurt than the truth. Better to face the truth, however painful it is.” Her voice tightened, rose a little in pitch. “We know your husband has not suddenly reformed,” she told Phoebe, “indeed, he has changed. Your handsome but boring duke had turned into a positive roué.”
“I beg your p-pardon?” Heat rushed to Phoebe’s cheeks. “Who told her that?”
“Nobody. We have seen it.” Miss Manners touched her hand again, but Phoebe shook it off. “I am sorry, my dear. Before you left for the country, the duke was seen at the worst hells, but people assumed he was sowing the last of his wild oats.” She brightened. “I’m sure that was the case.”
But Lady Dorothea wasn’t done. “No we are not. I’m sorry, Phoebe, but you probably know this already. He was out yesterday, and the day before. I assume you know about this? He is hardly making a secret of his proclivities.” Getting to her feet, she came over to Phoebe in a swish of amber silk. “You do know, don’t you?”
“Of course,” Phoebe said, chin high. “Do not concern yourself with the business.” She had known about La Coccinelle. Not about Leo’s nocturnal wanderings.
“Except for your health,” the woman said quietly. “Please ensure he is not risking your health as well as his.”
In the dead silence she returned to her seat. Phoebe’s head spun, but she had her pride intact. Certainty returned to her. She wasn’t sure what Leo was doing in the gaming hells and the brothels, but he was not gambling his fortune away or spending time with whores. Marcus’s spiteful words returned to her, enforcing her resolve. “He is n-not b-betraying me. He did not b-betray me b-before we m-married.” If he proved her wrong, she would look a fool, but she knew it would not come to that.
Last night she could have sworn Leo was about to tell her he loved her. He treated her tenderly, passionately, listened to her opinions. H
er own struggle not to fall for him had ended with her recognition of her state. Of course she loved him. She doubted that would ever change. She loved him more each day.
The meeting ended soon after, and the ladies filtered out. Unlike Phoebe, their time was not their own, but each lady swore she would do her best to discover whatever she could.
Phoebe sighed and closed her eyes, tipping her head back against her chair. She had not realized she’d fallen asleep until she felt a touch on her shoulder. She started awake. Angela hovered over her, her smile gentle. “You are tired, my dear.” Gently, she traced a line under Phoebe’s eye. “You need to rest. I will not ask, but I daresay you haven’t been getting a lot of sleep.”
Recalling last night and the night before, and the one before that, Phoebe dropped her gaze. “I’m f-finding adjusting a little d-difficult. Everybody is so c-considerate.”
Angela laughed harshly. “No, they are being normal human beings.” She straightened. “Stay here tonight, in your old room. Your father has gone to stay with your brothers in the City, since he doesn’t want to encourage gossip now he is here alone. And he dislikes society. I believe they will enjoy themselves with pursuits other than balls and routs.”
Reminded of the stories she’d heard about Leo, Phoebe shuddered.
“That is enough,” Angela said, her mouth firming. “Come with me. Write one of your notes to your husband, and tell him you will remain here tonight. You need a good night’s rest.”
Although she disliked orders, Phoebe was sorely tempted. After all, why not? “Yes.” As soon as she agreed, relief swept through her. Who would have thought that her new role was so exhausting? Assuming that the life of a duchess was all tea and gossip was extreme ignorance, and she had been complicit.
To sleep in her room, alone, to be Miss North for just one more night would be wonderful.
Angela sent her to her room to prepare for dinner. “Just Miss Helmers, you, and me for dinner,” Angela assured her. “I’ll send someone to call you, so if you want to rest, you need not fear you’ll miss it.”
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