Impassioned

by Darcy Burke

  “Lucien was correct in saying that I’d be delighted to assist with your wardrobe. We will begin immediately this afternoon.” She smiled brightly at Sabrina, her eyes dancing. “We are going to have such fun.”

  A weight lifted from Sabrina and was replaced with a burgeoning excitement. For the first time since she’d conjured this far-fetched scheme to come to London and reinvent herself, she felt as though it was actually possible. “Thank you. I’m doing this to gain my husband’s attention. I’ve come to London to get with child.” The inevitable heat rose in her cheeks.

  “I see. Is your marriage as estranged as Society thinks it to be?”

  Hearing Mrs. Renshaw say what Sabrina had suspected was rumored about them stung, but she was not surprised. “Yes. We rarely spend any time together.”

  “Do you mind telling me about it? Your marriage, I mean.”

  Sabrina wasn’t sure where to begin. The story of their marriage started well before the ceremony. “We met during my first Season, but I felt as if we were already acquainted.”

  “You struck an immediate accord?” she asked with a smile.

  “No. I was terrified when I met him. Though my parents had spoken of him for over a year, he was still a stranger.” And Sabrina didn’t like strangers—until today. “They’d already communicated with Aldington’s father—the duke—about a potential marriage. It was all but arranged by the time I came out.”

  “I didn’t realize that.” Mrs. Renshaw took her arm from Sabrina and angled herself toward her on the settee. Sabrina did the same so that they were facing each other. “Were you in favor of marrying him?”

  “Not particularly,” Sabrina whispered. She’d never admitted that to anyone outside her immediately family. Why would she when they’d reacted so poorly? Her father had threatened to send her to a nunnery if she didn’t wed Aldington. “He is the heir to a dukedom!” her father had raged. “I was not given a choice in the matter.”

  Mrs. Renshaw’s answering grimace was tinged with sympathy. “Women seldom are, particularly young ladies being used to further a family’s social position.”

  “He was not in favor of the marriage either.”

  “How unfortunate for you both. I can imagine things did not progress well after you married.”

  “Not at all. We barely knew each other, and I was content for things to remain that way—at least until I grew more comfortable with him.”

  “And did you?”

  Sabrina shook her head. “That’s difficult to achieve when you are scarcely together. I spend most of my time at Hampton Lodge, a place I have been fortunate to call home and in which I find comfort. But it’s lonely.” Her throat burned to say the word. She was lonely. She longed for a connection, a family. “Aldington only visits twice each year, and when I came to London last Season, we rarely attended events together. He is always busy at Westminster or with the business of it. And as I said, I didn’t mind because I was still growing accustomed to being a countess.”

  “Are you now?” Mrs. Renshaw asked. “Used to being a countess.”

  Sabrina pressed her lips together in frustration. “Only at Hampton Lodge. Here in London, I still feel like I’m an imposter.”

  “You are not. You are a countess, so let us make sure you act like one. That is what you want?”

  “It is. Along with a child. That is what I want the most,” she added softly.

  “Forgive my candor, does your estrangement extend to the bedchamber?”

  Despite an edge of discomfort, Sabrina was surprised to find she wanted to share this with someone, and Mrs. Renshaw seemed to genuinely care. “That is where we are least suited.” Sabrina clasped her hands once more, squeezing them together as she worked up the nerve to tell her everything—she felt in her bones that this woman could help her, that this woman was a friend. “He rarely comes to my bed and when he does, it’s dark and quick, and utterly unremarkable. I understand that is how it’s supposed to be, but neither one of us wants to endure the ordeal.”

  Mrs. Renshaw leaned her shoulder against the settee. “Oh dear. You think it’s an ordeal?”

  “That is what my mother always called it.” Sabrina mimicked her mother’s higher tone. “You must suffer the Ordeal whenever your husband insists upon it, my dear.”

  Staring at her wide-eyed, Mrs. Renshaw murmured, “How dreadful. And you say Aldington is uninterested?”

  Sabrina unclasped her hands and flattened them against her lap. “He seems to loathe the prospect and can’t get through the event fast enough. I don’t think he finds me desirable. When I demanded my marital rights last night, he used an excuse to avoid coming to my chamber.”

  “What is wrong with your husband?”

  “We are simply not well suited.”

  Mrs. Renshaw pressed her lips together. “It doesn’t sound as if you can know for sure. When you’ve shared a bed with Aldington, has he found pleasure in the act?”

  Sabrina tried to think of his behavior, but it was difficult. She was typically too engrossed in her own anxiety to pay attention to how he felt. But then her anxiety was partially due to his dispassion for her. “He doesn’t seem to.”

  “Does he orgasm?”

  Sabrina blinked at her. “Does he what?”

  “Orgasm. Come. Find his release.”

  “Oh, yes, he releases his seed.”

  “Men generally find pleasure when that occurs, to varying degrees. I’m assuming you don’t realize there is a feminine version of that where you feel pleasure?”

  Frowning, Sabrina tried to understand. “I don’t have any seed to spill.”

  “No, but you can still find pleasure—astonishing pleasure—and any good husband will ensure you do. I’ve half a mind to knock some sense into Aldington.” Her brows knitted angrily as the muscles in her jaw clenched.

  “Can that still happen if their wife is shaking in fear?” Or if the husband has no desire for the act?

  Mrs. Renshaw grimaced. “Perhaps not. In that instance, he may just do what he must in order to get things over with. This is a conundrum.”

  “Why? Is pleasure necessary to have a child?” Perhaps that was why she hadn’t conceived.

  “Sadly, no, but it’s better, is it not? Otherwise, it’s just a dull and terrible duty.”

  Yes, that was precisely what it was.

  Mrs. Renshaw straightened. “You only need to show your husband that you are no longer afraid, that you welcome his advances—that you desire him.”

  Did she though? Sabrina had always found him attractive. She recalled the sensation that had stolen through her when she’d smelled his scent the night before. Was that akin to desire? “I’m not sure I know what that feels like,” she whispered, hating to admit it but somehow knowing this woman wouldn’t shame her.

  Mrs. Renshaw’s gaze shone with understanding and warmth. “Oh, Lady Aldington, we shall ensure that you do.”

  “Please, call me Sabrina. This is such an intimate conversation.” Again, her cheeks flamed. “Surely only friends can speak in this manner.”

  Smiling, Mrs. Renshaw nodded in agreement. “Just so. You must call me Evie.”

  “Assuming I can feel desire for him, what will I do if he is still reluctant? What if he doesn’t desire me in return?”

  “I’m willing to bet that he will. However, his behavior is puzzling. There could be any number of reasons for his reluctance, including your fear.” She pressed her palm to her jawline and glanced away. When she pulled her focus back to Sabrina, she returned her hand to her lap. “There is one possibility regarding his reluctance, and if that’s the case, there is not much that can be done about it, I’m afraid.”

  “This doesn’t sound good. What is it?”

  “Perhaps Lord Aldington prefers a male partner in bed.”

  Sabrina clapped her hand over her mouth. “I hadn’t considered that.” And likely wouldn’t have if she lived five hundred years. How she loathed her naïveté. “I believe he has a mistre
ss. Perhaps it’s not a woman.”

  “It’s more common than you realize.” Evie said this with a certainty that made Sabrina incredibly curious. Despite that, she couldn’t bring herself to ask how Evie knew. Perhaps when they became closer friends, she might summon the nerve. “How do you know about his mistress?”

  “I asked if he had one and he immediately denied it. Too immediately to be believed. You can confirm it?”

  Evie shook her head. “This is the first I’ve heard—there are no rumors that he has a mistress. Aldington is an extremely private person. Does it concern you?”

  Sabrina leaned back. “Not particularly. I know men like him usually have mistresses. Given the state of our marriage, I think I’d be more surprised if he didn’t have one. However, if it’s a man, I’m not at all sure how to proceed.”

  Perhaps she would have to do what she’d brazenly—and without thought—threatened the night before: have a child without him. The thought of that only filled her with more anxiety, which she absolutely did not need. She considered retreating to Hampton Lodge to perhaps hide under a blanket.

  No, the old Sabrina would do that. New Sabrina wasn’t going to sit by and let life happen to her. “What can I do to feel less apprehensive?”

  “It doesn’t sound as if you know each other at all,” Evie said.

  “We don’t,” Sabrina whispered, feeling as though she faced an insurmountable obstacle.

  “Perhaps that should be your primary objective before you can get to the pleasurable creating of a child. Get to know him and make him get to know you. Then, you’ll seduce him. Assuming he doesn’t prefer men and can be seduced by you, are you up to the challenge?”

  “Of seduction?” Sabrina feared she’d ended the word on a squeak. “I suppose I shall have to bluntly ask if he is aroused by men or women.” The thought of doing so made her feel as if she were riding a runaway horse, but she worked to rein in her nerves. “I think I must. The time for prevarication and avoidance is past. I am on a mission.”

  Evie laughed and reached over to briefly clasp Sabrina’s hand. “You aren’t at all what you think, at least not what I’ve seen today. You possess a steel inside you, Sabrina. I hope you realize that. I also hope you never forget it,” she added with a soft smile.

  Sabrina hadn’t realized that, and of everything Evie had said today, it might be the thing that stuck in her mind the longest. She’d certainly be thinking about it for some time—whether it was actually true and how she could learn to use that steel.

  “Let us discuss the fun part of this, shall we?” Evie’s gaze held a mischievous sparkle. “In order to conduct a successful seduction, you should experience an orgasm—or several.”

  “How do I do that before seducing him?” Sabrina feared her naïveté was once again rearing its head.

  “By pleasuring yourself.”

  Sabrina gaped at her. “How on earth would I do that?”

  “You’ll have an orgasm,” Evie explained. “What I was telling you about before. You don’t need a man to give you one. You can do all this by touching yourself—your breasts, your sex, whatever feels good.”

  Sabrina brushed her hand over her forehead. “Please forgive my ignorance. It’s quite maddening, if I’m to be honest. Why would I touch my breasts?”

  Evie exhaled and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Aldington has never touched your breasts.”

  “Why would he?”

  “Because it feels lovely.” Evie resituated herself on the settee, turning even more toward Sabrina and bringing her thigh slightly onto the cushion in the process. “You definitely need to have an orgasm—or three—before you attempt seduction. Tonight, I want you to touch yourself until you find release. It will take some effort, but I promise you’ll enjoy it.”

  Sabrina didn’t understand any of this. “How do I do this?”

  “I’m going to explain, and I’m going to give you a book from my library. It has drawings and descriptions.” Evie gave her a wicked smile. “They will, hopefully, arouse you.”

  “Oh.” Sabrina remained skeptical.

  “Trust me. You are going to be amazed at what you have been missing. And when you learn to find and experience pleasure you will wield a power that will give you a singular confidence when dealing with your husband. When he comes to your bed, you will know what you want and what to ask him for. Rather, what to demand from him.”

  Sabrina put her fingers to her lips, imagining this power and using it to demand…pleasure from Aldington. It almost seemed impossible, but she’d already demanded he visit her bed. This would be easy after that, wouldn’t it?

  Evie abruptly rose. “I’m going to fetch the book so we can have a nice, in-depth discussion. I’ll also have Foster bring sherry—you’ll thank me for it. Then, after we have finished your education, we’ll go shopping.” Eyes glowing with enthusiasm, she took herself from the drawing room, leaving Sabrina to stare after her in wonder and perhaps a bit of mental paralysis.

  This was not at all what she’d imagined when she’d gone to Lucien for help. She’d never considered all that she was missing. How could she? It seemed, however, this was precisely what she needed.

  She only hoped she was up to the challenge of seduction, especially in the face of a man who didn’t want to be seduced.

  Chapter 5

  Constantine didn’t stay out quite as late as he’d planned. Through the course of the day, he’d convinced himself that he needed to visit his wife tonight. The sooner he got her with child, the better. Perhaps they might even enjoy it. But to do that, she’d need to be open to such a thing, if her newfound courage actually extended to the bedchamber.

  There was only one way to find out.

  Garbed in loose-fitting breeches and a banyan, he went to her chamber and rapped lightly on the door.

  “Come in,” she called.

  Every muscle in his body tightened as he opened the door and stepped inside. She rose from the single chair in front of the hearth, and Constantine nearly choked.

  Her slender frame was draped in a dark pink dressing gown that hugged her…curves? Yes, she had curves—a rather lush flare from her narrow waist to her rounded hip and a surprisingly full bosom. How had he never noticed this before?

  Because she’d never dressed like this before. The gown formed a deep vee leading into her cleavage. His mouth went dry as his gaze followed the trail, and he realized he could just detect her nipples through the thin silk.

  Holy hell. This was not the shy, terrified wife he knew.

  “I’m pleased you came to visit,” she said. “However, given the state of your hand, I think you’re right that we should wait until tomorrow or perhaps the following night to resume our marital duties.”

  Marital duties. His brain was having a hard time reconciling that last word in particular while he tried—in vain—not to stare at her breasts. As his cock grew hard and lengthened, he acknowledged there would be nothing dutiful about taking her to bed tonight.

  Except there is, his mind argued. Marriage was nothing if not duty, and begetting an heir was at the top of the list of duties.

  This was a moot debate—even inside his head—since she was turning him away. The irony that he would have eagerly tumbled her, and that last night she’d asked him to and he’d refused, was not lost on him. He took a deep breath in an effort to cool his arousal.

  “I’m surprised at your change of…mind.” Had he been about to say heart? There were no hearts involved in this union—of that he was certain.

  She gave him a placid smile. “I want to be a supportive wife. How was your day at Westminster?” Her hands were clasped at her waist so that her upper arms were pressed against her breasts. As if he needed more help in directing his attention to them.

  He forced himself to focus on her question. Westminster… “It was fine, thank you. Productive, I think.”

  “Indeed? What were you working on?”

  “The apothecaries act,” he responded wi
thout thinking.

  “I don’t think I know about that. What is it?”

  Constantine blinked, his brain catching up with the conversation. He didn’t typically discuss his work with her, but then she’d never asked about it before. “I’m, ah, working on a law that would require apothecaries, and other medical practitioners, to be regulated.”

  She tipped her head to the side, her gaze trained on his. “Why do you think that’s important?”

  “The current system is dangerous. Apothecaries are conducting surgeries and chemists are dispensing medicine—there needs to be order and regulation to ensure these practitioners are trained and educated. Many apothecaries are illiterate. The College of Physicians are demanding changes to the bill, as is the Society of Apothecaries. We met today to try to find some compromise.”

  “And you think you were successful?” Her interest seemed…genuine.

  “Perhaps. You can’t possibly find this interesting?” It was of particular import to him—if not for a rogue apothecary who’d also called himself a surgeon, his mother might be alive today. But his wife couldn’t know that.

  “I do, actually. My mother’s chemist prescribes a dizzying array of tonics and medicinals. I can’t imagine she needs half of them. She may not need any of them, in fact.”

  “That is troubling.” An overzealous apothecary was the reason Constantine’s mother had died. He’d bled her repeatedly, which Constantine’s father had allowed, and his mother hadn’t survived. “Have you tried to talk with your mother about the matter?”

  Surprise flashed in her eyes, but it was more than that. There was fear, yes, that was it. This was the wife he recognized.

  “I couldn’t ever do that,” she said quietly, her gaze moving to the coals glowing in the hearth.

  He hadn’t meant to cause her distress. “How was your day?” he asked, hoping to divert her thoughts.

  “Lovely, thank you. I’m afraid I spent all my quarterly allowance as well as some of your money.”

  He’d thought he supplied her with enough funds, but perhaps he didn’t. “Do you require a larger allowance?”