Word of a Lady: A Risqué Regency Romance (The Six Pearls of Baron Ridlington Book 3)

by Sahara Kelly

  “No, not quite that,” laughed Letitia. “And I have asked Paul to escort Harry back here after the servants have retired. She’ll be safe that way, but late. Paul has agreed. A very kind man, and apparently quite unshockable.”

  “So all is settled then?”

  Letitia rose and brushed the crumbs off her skirt. “Yes. It seems so.”

  Rosaline stood as well, and held out her hands. “You are sure, my dear?”

  “I’m sure.” Letitia took Rosaline’s outstretched hands in her own. “Very sure. I’m also convinced I have the best sister-in-law in the whole world.”

  “I hope you feel that way after tomorrow night.” Rosaline squeezed the fingers she was holding. “If you have any problems, or questions, come to me. I am always here for you, no matter what.”

  Tears stung Letitia’s eyes and she looked down for a moment, not willing to betray the rush of emotion that had brought them so close to the surface. She merely squeezed back, let Rosaline go, and walked from the room. A moment longer and she might have divulged too much—revealing that she had no intention of actually marrying James.

  That wouldn’t do at all.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The following evening, Letitia and Harriet worked up an appetite with their walk through the forest to FitzArden Hall.

  It was growing colder by the minute and both women were bundled in cloaks, mufflers and thickly lined bonnets, not to mention sturdy boots. Harriet had insisted on carrying the small bag containing Letitia’s belongings; the pink nightgown having been chosen as just perfect for this particular event, along with a hairbrush which both felt would be necessary the next morning.

  She would return after sunrise.

  “Well if it were any colder, we would have to postpone this entire thing,” complained Letitia. “It would take James all night to get me out of my winter clothes.” Her breath made clouds of vapour in the bitter air.

  “I wonder if it will snow,” said Harriet, looking up at the sky.

  “I couldn’t say. It’s very clear right now, so perhaps not…” Letitia chuckled. “Here we are, talking about the weather, on a night that promises to be quite important.”

  “You might also say life-changing,” added Harriet.

  Letitia paced onward as she considered that statement. “I suppose that may well be true. But then again, I’ve never quite understood the attitude toward virginity as a prize to be guarded and awarded only on the marriage bed.”

  “It does seem silly, doesn’t it? But—to present the other side of the argument—it’s something that once given can never be reclaimed.”

  “Rosaline said much the same thing, and it is true—unless you’re a skilled courtesan. I did learn that they could fool their customers into believing they were virgins, many times over. It was in one of John Wilmot’s books, I think, but not something I’d care to try.”

  Harriet choked. “Letitia, you have read far too much appallingly intimate material. You’ll probably end up telling Sir James what to do.”

  That notion sent Letitia into a fit of the giggles that set off Harriet, and thus it was with obvious good spirits that both women arrived on James’s doorstep.

  He answered it himself. “Ladies, you are most welcome. Do come in and warm yourselves. It’s looking like winter is now upon us.”

  “Indeed it is. And how lovely it is in here.” Letitia smiled at James as she walked into the hall, where a fire blazed in the majestic hearth. “Goodness, you’re going to be able to have a massive Yule log there, aren’t you?” She stared at the marble mantelpiece. “It’s quite beautiful.”

  “Salvaged from another mansion,” said Paul, walking down the staircase in time to overhear Letitia’s remark. “Good evening, Letitia. Miss Harry.” He bowed.

  “Well, you look as fine as fivepence.” Letitia surveyed him. “We’re honoured.”

  James rolled his eyes as Paul snorted out a laugh.

  “I think we’d better dine,” muttered James, as a maid helped the ladies with their cloaks. “Just leave the bag beneath them, please, Mary. We’ll tend to that later.”

  Letitia gave the girl a warm smile and a nod of thanks as she turned away and followed James into the small dining room. Paul and Harriet brought up the rear.

  “How charming, James.” Letitia looked around. “You have done so much in such a short time, it seems.”

  Proud of his home, James felt a glow of satisfaction at Letitia’s enthusiasm. “I think you reach a point when the small things, like wallpaper and carpeting, make a huge difference. You’ve been in here before, several times, but now it has lights and draperies.”

  “They are beautiful,” said Harriet, looking up at the chandeliers. “Quite different.”

  “They’re Italian,” announced Paul. “I met the man who makes them some time ago on the Continent. I actually worked for him for a couple of months. So when James here declared he wanted something unusual for this room, I thought of Signor Montefiore. He was eager to get some of his work on display in England, so he was happy to work with us on it.”

  Letitia looked up at the intricately formed vines of flowers; cleverly painted iron leaves and buds, interspersed with sparkling glass tiger lilies that glowed in the light of the candles scattered throughout the piece. “I do love lilies.”

  “I know,” said James.

  “Dinner, sir.” A footman appeared in the doorway. “Should we serve now?”

  “Yes, please. I think we’re all quite ready to dine.”

  There were only four places set at the small table, realized Letitia. But it was delightful to be able to converse without shouting, and to have everyone discuss topics of conversation at the same time. There was room enough to expand the table, and James probably used it as a breakfast room as well. He really was quite brilliant in so many ways…

  She found herself watching him during the meal, a little shudder of excitement tightening things low in her body as she noticed his long fingers, his tongue as he licked his lips, and the way his eyes smiled when they met hers.

  The food was plain but delicious, and the wines excellent. She wouldn’t have expected anything else, she realized. James wasn’t a man to flaunt his wealth. It showed in other ways. The chandelier was magnificent but not dominating, the way the ones at the Seton-Mowbray hall had been. And this meal had to be made from the freshest of local meats and vegetables. A pleasant change from the over-seasoned, flamboyantly sauced London fare.

  The wine was to everyone’s taste, and James sent the footmen away as the fruit and cheese appeared for the final course. “We’ll take care of ourselves, Carter, thank you.”

  “Yes, sir,” bowed the tallest footman, leaving the room quietly.

  “You need a formal butler, Sir James,” offered Harriet. “Below stairs is probably a den of confusion without a first in command.”

  “She has a point, old lad. Every efficient army needs a general.” Paul drained his wine glass.

  “I know,” said James. “But I’ve always been terribly intimidated by butlers. They have this ability to look down their noses at you. The last one I met was all of five feet three inches, but he still managed it. Awful experience.” He shuddered theatrically, making them all laugh.

  Paul pushed back his chair. “I hear there is brandy in the library. Um…” he shook his head. “Forgive me. The room that will be the library when it has books in it.”

  That brought another laugh and the four of them left the table to cross the hall and enter the Soon-To-Be-A-Library. Paul had exaggerated the situation, since many of the shelves already held books, but some were indeed still bare. The curtains were a rich brown-gold velvet, drawn now against the icy chill of the early winter night. Another fire in this room, but smaller, surrounded by a glowing wood mantel, and topped by a beautiful painting.

  Letitia found herself drawn to it, staring at the riotous clouds, the storm tossed waves beneath, and the boats rocking precariously as the ocean played with them.


  “It’s by an artist named Turner,” said James, coming up beside her. “I couldn’t resist it.”

  “I don’t blame you,” she breathed. “It’s…magnificent. Wild, intense—everything a storm at sea should be.” She glanced at him. “Edmund would adore this.”

  “I haven’t shown him yet, but I’m eager to hear his opinion. Turner has some amazing paintings to his credit. I think he’s one of the finest artists painting today.”

  A quick burst of laughter from Paul and Harriet turned their attention to the arrangement of chairs before the fire. A small table lay between them, and Paul was busily shuffling cards.

  “Come along, you two. It’s time for a game of Speculation. At which, I shall warn you in advance, I excel above all others.”

  Letitia couldn’t refuse a challenge like that, and neither could James.

  “I’m not very good at this,” said Harriet hesitantly.

  “Then you are sitting next to the right man,” Paul responded. “As an avowed expert, I shall guide your bids and ensure that you leave the table with a much fuller knowledge of the intricacies involved than when you sat down.”

  “Paul, the only thing you excel at is being a braggart.” James grinned as he took a turn at shuffling the cards. “Why don’t you pour the brandy while Letitia and I quickly run over the basics for Harry…”

  Thus the evening progressed with a rousing and lively game of Speculation, which was enjoyed by all. The brandy decanter was almost empty when Harriet glanced at the small ormolu clock on one of the bookshelves and gasped.

  “Goodness, it’s gone eleven.” She looked at Paul. “I’m not sure when I should be leaving…”

  James finished his brandy. “The servants usually lock up around midnight. But I agree. It is late.” He looked at Letitia, his gaze heated, the message clear.

  She sighed and rose to her feet. “I believe James has the right of it. We should bid you goodnight.”

  The mood in the room shifted from amusement to something else as James came to her side and offered her his arm. “Paul, I believe Carter will be waiting up to lock the door behind you. Feel free to leave at your leisure, but make sure Harry is home safe, and that you have the key to the kitchen door so that you can get back in.”

  “I will. Thank you James, for a lovely evening.” He bowed. “Letitia.”

  “My thanks too, Sir James. This has been delightful.” Harriet dropped them both a curtsey. “Good night.”

  Letitia allowed herself to be led from the room, realizing that she was just a little unsteady on her feet. “James, I have certainly imbibed a lot of your brandy,” she whispered.

  “I matched you, love. But now there will be absolutely no barriers between us. Sometimes it takes a brandy or two to ease the nerves.”

  “You wanted me to relax?”

  “Oh yes,” he smiled, squeezing her arm where it rested against his chest. “To start with, yes.”

  Letitia swallowed. “Well, it worked. I think.”

  *~~*~~*

  James was experiencing an unaccustomed sensation as he walked Letitia up the stairs that night.

  He had butterflies dancing an energetic waltz in his belly.

  Beside him was the woman he’d yearned for since the day he met her, and ahead was a night of passion where she would be giving herself to him. The next few hours would be the culmination of his desires, but then what? How could he convince her that she was exactly where she should be—naked and beneath him.

  How could he persuade her to cast aside her reservations about love? Was there any way he could show her what it meant to feel that deep emotion, to ache for the sound of a loved one’s voice, the touch of her hand, the smile in her eyes? How was he going to capture her, calm her fears and get her to agree to be his for the rest of their lives?

  Sad truth was, he had no damn clue.

  All he could do was hope that loving her to the best of his ability would do the trick. Which thought, of course, made him doubt that his loving would ever be sufficient, which led to other worries, and by the time he opened the door to his suite he was a mess of raging nerves.

  Letitia, on the other hand, seemed quite calm by comparison, although he did notice her surreptitiously wiping her palms on her gown. She looked around as he led her inside his suite and closed the door behind them. He locked it as well, although it was probably an unnecessary precaution.

  The fire was lit, a few candles burned around the room and she walked to the windows, as yet not covered by curtains.

  “Oh look, James. It’s beginning to snow.”

  He came up behind her and surrendered to the urge to touch her, sliding his arms around her slim waist. “I’m not surprised. It’s been threatening all afternoon.” Their reflections shone in the window glass, a tall man’s head above the white shoulders of a beautiful woman. “We look well together, love. Don’t you agree?” He slipped his hand higher, letting the warmth of it touch the curve of one breast.

  She sighed. “We do indeed, James.” He felt her spine loosen as she leaned back against him.

  One of his thumbs strayed to her nipple, teasing at it and rousing it to hardness beneath the covering of soft silk. “You respond to my touch so beautifully,” he whispered, nibbling at her neck as he spoke.

  She shivered. “I like your touch. ’Tis most pleasant.”

  Her eyes drifted closed—he watched her reflection as he cupped both breasts and began to fondle them, gently, slowly, watching the expressions as her brows drew together then relaxed as she sighed and leaned in to his hands.

  He continued, nipping and then licking at her neck, her ear, tugging the lobe with his teeth and whispering how much he enjoyed this, her scent, the taste of her skin…just there…and the weight of her breasts filling his hands to perfection. He intended for his words to be as seductive as his touches, hoping the combination would ease her concerns, relax her body and release her mind.

  He squeezed both nipples as he dragged his teeth over her shoulder, watching the sleeve of her gown slip lower. He wanted to rip it off her, to stand her naked right where she was, and plunge his hands between her legs to see if she was wet and ready for him.

  But he didn’t. Patience, he concluded, was one of the keys to Letitia, and he would exercise patience if it killed him. Given the rigidity of his cock, it might well do just that.

  She shivered again.

  “Time to step away from the window, love. It’s going to get cold here.”

  She nodded, and turned to him, her eyelids heavy, her cheeks flushed. “All right.”

  He took her hand and led her into his bedroom, where there were fewer candles, and a smaller fire. They would make their own warmth beneath the covers of the large four-poster bed that dominated the room.

  Heavy curtains were drawn, imprisoning them in their own little world of desire. And James wouldn’t wish himself anywhere else at that moment for all the tea in China.

  She looked uncertain as he removed his jacket, tossing it on a chair. He held out his hand. “Come here, love. Help me?”

  With fingers suddenly turned clumsy, she unbuttoned his waistcoat, pushing it over his shoulders as he shook it away. Gaining in confidence, his cravat and shirt came next, and he didn’t miss the slight sound of wonder as she found his chest, pausing a moment with his shirt halfway down his elbows to run her palms over his skin.

  He hadn’t expected the shot of desire that her touch incited. He wanted to howl as she delicately teased his nipples, turning the tables on him. “Is that pleasant for you, James? It certainly is for me.” She shot him a quick glance then helped him discard the shirt. “I like your chest.”

  “Thank you,” he choked. “I like yours as well.”

  He drew her close, her heat warming his bare skin like a burning log held high against him. And he kissed her, slowly at first as was his way. Tasting, appreciating, enjoying, then plunging in, his tongue darting around her mouth, in and out, mimicking the movements he w
ould make later.

  She moaned and started to raise her arms, but he caught them, holding them down, then slipping her gown from her shoulders. There would be tapes to unfasten, but for now this would suffice.

  She pulled her arms in, as if helping him achieve his goal. He wanted her breasts naked, warm, abrading his chest. And within moments he had his wish.

  A gasp, a groan, and those hard nipples were piercing his flesh, her naked arms twining around his neck as she delighted both of them by rubbing herself against him. The sound she made, a mix of moan and whimper, told him everything he needed to know. She was with him, matching him step for step along this sensually abandoned road to ecstasy.

  “Oh God, Letitia,” he breathed harshly then returned to her mouth, his hands busy with the fastenings of her gown. He’d always been dexterous, learning quickly how things worked. That had come in quite handy around women, so he had Letitia’s gown puddled on the floor within a few moments. Her chemise was already at her waist, so it followed rapidly, leaving her in stockings and shoes.

  It wasn’t the easiest thing he’d ever done, but he stepped back, looking at the treasure he had revealed. “I knew you were beautiful, but you go so far beyond what I ever could have imagined…” Her skin glowed in the candlelight, her body all curves and ivory silk. She showed no shame at his inspection, her arms at her sides, her lips flushed from his kisses, her eyes fixed on his as they roamed over her. Between her legs a tuft of dark blonde hair made his mouth water, and the tiny sparkle of candlelight on the juices dappling her upper thigh told a story all their own.

  “I want to see you, James,” she said, surprising him.

  “Of course.” His hand went to the buttons on his breeches and her gaze followed. “Will you help me?”

  “Yes.” She kicked away her clothing and came to him, unaware of the erotic picture she presented in her white stockings tied above the knee with pink ribbons, and her sturdy leather boots.

  Her hand reached for him, fumbling a little at first, then growing more confident as his buttons popped open. Finally, his breeches were loose enough to drop. He had nothing beneath.