Cavern of Pleasures Boxset: Georgian Regency Romance

by EM BROWN

  She pushed his coat off his shoulders. He slid his arms out.

  “It were damnably unfair that men should have such ease undressing,” she murmured, pressing a hot kiss to his throat.

  “I am partial to the challenges of a lady’s attire.”

  Her caraco was unbuttoned and he brushed his fingers over the bare skin above her décolletage. His touch ignited her desire.

  “No doubt you are much practiced in the task.”

  “Perhaps, but I may be outmatched in present company.”

  She reached between his legs and grabbed his sac. He grunted, cupped her face with both hands, and devoured her mouth. She would have been content to kiss him for hours were it not for the yearning ache between her thighs. He whipped her around and began removing her garments one by one, kissing and caressing every inch of skin that he laid bare until she had only her stockings and shoes. She wiggled her rump against his crotch as his arms circled around her. He kneaded her breasts and pinched her nipples.

  “Place your hands upon the tree,” he instructed. He broke off a branch and, using it as a switch, laid it upon her arse.

  “Thank you, Sir,” she responded instantly and arched her derriere for him.

  He pushed her feet wider apart and lashed upwards between her legs at her cunnie. She gasped at the pain and felt her juices flowing.

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  He rubbed the switch along her clit. She moaned.

  “Take me, Sir.”

  He obliged and, situating himself behind her, slid his cock into her. She marveled at how he filled her despite the many times he had already entered. Using the tree as leverage, she pushed her rump into his pelvis. He bucked against her with enough force that, had her hand slipped, she would have found her face planted against the tree. She cried out happily. Lessening the force of his thrust, he told her to pleasure herself. She put a hand between her thighs and caressed her mons. She did not require long to ascend her peak.

  Pulling out of her, he grabbed his coat and spread it upon the ground for her. Her thighs fell to the sides for him. He threw her legs over his shoulders and penetrated her hard, burying his pole to the hilt in her now sodden cunnie. Her previous climax had barely subsided when she felt another looming. Their bodies pumped vigorously against one another. They panted in rhythm. She knew she would never know a better partner in this carnal dance as the most beautiful sensations burst from between her legs, sending shudders to the points of her fingers and toes. Montague came almost in unison, a conclusion as satisfying as her own.

  He wrapped his coat about her and held her as she rested her eyes. They napped upon the grass until a breeze began to entice little bumps upon her skin.

  “I wonder that you ever wish to leave Chelton,” she remarked as he assisted in redressing her.

  “The memories here are not all happy ones,” he conceded. “My mother was never entirely fond of the place. My father incurred a great amount of debt as a result of this estate. Nevertheless, I am loathe to part with it.”

  She took in a deep breath of the heather-scented air. Here she felt the promise of a tranquility she had not known in some time.

  “That were quite understandable. One could be at peace here.”

  He turned her to him with surprising emotion. “Could you envision happiness here?”

  “I – I don’t know,” she stammered. “I think I have far too much bitterness in my soul to know true happiness.”

  “And you think achieving vengeance upon Frotham will alleviate your bitterness?”

  She looked down at the ground, envisioning the look of consternation upon the Earl, imagining the torment he would feel, visualizing a life married to Charles or the spectacle of divorce.

  “If it would, I wish you much success in your endeavor,” Montague added. “Indeed, I admire your perseverance. You have a purpose. Something I have lacked in my life. But it would be tragic if your efforts did not provide you the relief you seek.”

  And kept her from the promise of something better, she realized. All of a sudden, she was overcome with sadness. She no longer found her revenge exalting. A tear slipped down her cheek.

  He brushed her tear away with his thumb and kissed the top of the head. “We are neither of us are such saints that we should be blessed with all that the heavens may offer; but neither are we so wretched that we should be denied all happiness. Perhaps if we were to allow ourselves some amount of joy, together we can be better than we are.”

  More tears pressed themselves to her eyes – tears of relief and hope. She looked up at him and nodded. He folded his arms about her and pulled her into his chest. She clung to the lapels of his coat and let out a shaky breath.

  THE CARRIAGE BOUNCED erratically upon the dirt road, but with the Baroness in his arms, Montague no longer minded the journey. They had both wanted to stay at Chelton, but it would not do for the Baroness Debarlow to be missing for much longer. The return to London, however, did not dim his excitement. Abbey had decided to relinquish the Viscount of her own accord, freeing him from his dilemma. He had deliberated in his mind over and over how he ought to proceed with her, given his arrangement with the Earl. He fell upon one overarching realization: he wanted Abbey for himself. If she renounced Tremayne, he could claim his payment from the Earl. With Chelton secured, he could turn his attentions to wooing Lady Debarlow in earnest.

  Providence had indeed smiled upon him. Nothing could prevent him from claiming the Baroness as his.

  Chapter Nineteen

  EVALINE PRESSED HER EAR carefully to the door of her father’s study. Mr. Henry had warned her to stay her distance from the likes of Montague Edwards. She would have thought Mr. Henry to be merely overly protecting of her, and she knew full well the reputation Edwards had in Bath, but the vitriol in his tone made her suspect something else was afoot. Had Mr. Henry not introduced Edwards as a cousin though the two bore not the slightest resemblance? Furthermore, she failed to understand why her father would keep Edwards’ company if the latter was such a reprobate.

  “I had saved your son from running off to Gretna Green with Lady Debarlow,” Edwards was saying.

  Gretna Green? That foolish brother of hers! It was not indecent enough for him to be courting her but he must elope with her to boot? Her heart warmed with gratitude towards Edwards. Was that why her father had called upon him?

  “But have you seduced the Baroness enough?” her father questioned. “Who is to say that they will not make another attempt at Gretna Green?”

  “Have you spoken with your son?”

  “No, no, it were better he presume I knew nothing or he might be even more driven to keep his actions secret.”

  “He would tell you the Baroness has foresworn his attentions.”

  “You do not know the Baroness as I do. She can be extremely deceptive and wily. I will not be comforted till Charles has agreed to marry Elisabeth.”

  “Our arrangement was for me to seduce the Lady Debarlow, not to convince your son to marry Miss Worsely.”

  “He will if he has lost all hope of reconciling with the Baroness.”

  Silence fell. Evaline imagined Edwards to be seething for his tone had grown increasingly angry. Now her father’s association with the rake made sense. But how inconsiderate of her father to demand more of the man! Her stomach churned with jealousy. The Baroness had already had her share of men, including her brother, and would add Edwards to her growing list?

  “I will require more time then,” Edwards said at last, “and will have it in writing.”

  “Done. I will have papers sent to you on the morrow.”

  Evaline stumbled away from the door upon hearing footsteps approach, but Edwards stormed from the room without noticing her. He headed outside to await his horse. She followed him outside.

  “Mr. Edwards!” she greeted. “I thought I beheld you from upstairs. Have you taken yourself to Ranalegh Gardens as I had advised?”

  “Admittedly, I have not,” he repl
ied coolly with a bow.

  It was clear his mind was elsewhere. On the Baroness no doubt. How she wished her father were not so stubborn! This was all Charles’ doing!

  “There is to be a new comedy at the Theatre Royal. I shall be in attendance Saturday. Perhaps if you are not otherwise engaged—“

  He adjusted his gloves. “I doubt I shall be at liberty to attend.”

  Evaline bit her lower lip, feeling the desperation rise in her throat. “Then perhaps you will visit Vauxhall? Many a chaperone has been lost in its gardens.”

  He turned to look at her. At last!

  “Miss Pettington?”

  She lowered her lashes “I am young but not so naïve as one might think. My position demands a certain decorum.”

  She dropped her voice. “But a more vibrant passion burns within me. I yearn to know—“

  “Miss Pettington, your father would have me killed were I to ruin you.”

  “He pays me no heed as his attentions are fixed upon my brother. I presume, also, that you are a man of great discretion.”

  “Miss Pettington, with your loveliness, you could tempt the saints.”

  Her heart soared at the compliment. She heard the footman come round with the horse and wished that she could have more time with Edwards. She watched as he mounted his horse.

  He touched his hat to her. “But, alas, I am no saint.”

  He spurred his horse and departed. She felt hollow inside. How could he reject her with such ease? The cause must lie with his arrangement with the Earl. It were fruitless to talk to her father, but...

  Turning on her heels, Evaline headed inside and to her chambers. She would draft a letter to the Baroness Debarlow.

  “YOUR NOTE HAD SENT a dagger through my heart at first, but I could not believe you had meant it. And then to hear that you had been abducted by highwaymen – it was more than I could bear!”

  Charles clasped Abbey to him, but she extricated herself from his awkward embrace.

  “When I heard you were safely returned, I had to rush here to see for myself that you are safe and sound.”

  She went to the sideboard of her salon to pour herself a glass of port. She would not have the vengeance she had sought upon the Earl, but Libby would have hers.

  “I have been near to Bedlam these past days,” Charles lamented. “I could not sleep in wondering if you had come to harm.”

  “Did you attempt to find me?” she asked.

  Charles stared blankly. “I thought you to have abandoned me. It was not until two days later that I heard from your servants that you were missing.”

  She thought wryly of the glove she had attempted to leave behind. Thank God she had not truly been abducted by highwaymen.

  “Have you reconsidered your letter then?” he persisted. “We could leave for Gretna Green as early as tonight.”

  She sighed. “I meant every word, Charles. I am quite convinced that you and I are not suited.”

  He paled. “Not suited? Impossible!”

  She sat down in her favorite wing-chair. “There is naught to recommend a match betwixt you and I.”

  “Is our mutual affection not enough? Our shared interests?”

  “You would tire of me quickly. You may think that your title and family have no influence upon you, but they would eventually weigh upon you, and you would come to resent me.”

  Charles knelt before her. “I could never resent you! I would forever be happy to oblige you.”

  “Then oblige me now. Miss Worsely awaits your attention. She is young and beautiful. She comes from a prestigious family.”

  She could hardly believe that she was encouraging that which would make Frotham happy, but it mattered less now.

  Charles scowled. “Elisabeth is a child!”

  “No more than you, m’dear.”

  “But – but our disparity in years did not hinder you before.”

  “I have come to my senses or my tendencies to the caprice with regards to my lovers has prevailed.”

  Charles grew red of face, not unlike his father. “Lovers? Have you another lover?”

  “That has no bearing upon my decision—“

  “Who is he? Another patron of Madame Botreaux?”

  She stared him in the eyes and said in her most imposing tone. “I will not marry you, Charles.”

  He rose to his feet. Various hues flashed through his physiognomy. “You will regret your decision, Abbey. I could have offered you more than any other man. You will wish you had not cast me aside.”

  He whirled angrily upon his heels. She wondered what rash intentions he had, but Charles was no longer her concern. Settling into her seat, she finished her wine when her butler entered.

  “A letter came by messenger for you,” he said.

  She took the letter from the tray, wondering if it might be from Montague Edwards. She could hardly wait to see him once more. Putting aside her glass, she eagerly opened the letter. At once she saw, however, that the penmanship was that of a woman.

  “Abbey, what is this about your being abducted?” Constance swept into the room. “And how is it I have not learned of this before? My dear, you are pale as a ghost.”

  The letter blurred before Abbey’s gaze as she handed it to Constance, but the contents of the letter haunted her mind.

  Constance scanned the letter. “Shocking! I can hardly believe that Frotham would deign to make such a proposal.”

  “I believe it,” Abbey replied. “The Earldom is everything to him. As for Edwards...”

  Constance sank into the settee opposite her friend. Abbey knit her brows. Her friend was not leaping to his defense?

  “What intelligence have you?” she asked.

  Constance took a deep breath. “I had thought you and Mr. Edwards to have formed a bond of sorts. Wanting to know more about him, I elicited all that I could from his friend Mr. Holmes. I plied the man with the best wine from my brother’s cellar and learned that Edwards is short of funds. Apparently he has outstanding notes upon some property of his. He came to London to find a wife of means.”

  Abbey recalled the references to Chelton by Montague himself: the insecurity of his ownership, the debt incurred by his father, his desire to retain Chelton.

  The air about her seemed to thin. How fortunate for Montague. If he had been successful in becoming her paramour, she would certainly qualify as a woman of means. But with the Earl’s proposition, he had only to seduce her away from Tremayne.

  “Dearest...” Constance murmured. “I regret my hand in introducing you to that loathsome Edwards. What a poor friend am I!”

  “You could not have known,” Abbey consoled.

  “What a relief that you a woman of singular mind and will simply move onto the next man.”

  “Yes, one lover is as good as the next.”

  But the words rang hollow to her own ears. It would have been a simple matter, as Constance put it, had she not fallen in love with the man.

  Chapter Twenty

  LATIMER CLAPPED MONTAGUE on the back as he threw the Times onto the table of the coffee-house. “Well done, Edwards! The Earl is sure to reward you now.”

  Edwards looked at the assertion in the paper that the banners for the Viscount Tremayne and Miss Elisabeth Worsely would soon be read.

  Montague gave his friend a half smile. The news was delightful, but his victory would not be complete without the Baroness. Strangely, she had taken herself from town without word to him. He could only speculate that she wanted no part of all the gossip that was sure to fly about her and Tremayne. There would be many who would openly snicker before her. Tremayne was already spreading the falsehood that he had tired of the Baroness.

  The play that Miss Pettington had suggested was still playing at the Royal a fortnight later, and Montague decided it might prove an effective distraction. If he did not fill his time, he found himself dwelling on Abbey – longing for her company and craving her body. The atmosphere at the theatre was boisterous that evening wi
th a full house. He observed that Tremayne was in attendance, as was Miss Worsely. The former was not particularly attentive to his impending fiancée, and the latter appeared bored by her company.

  “Odd’s bodkins, is that not the Baroness Debarlow?” Latimer asked after he and Montague had taken their seats.

  Montague followed the gaze of his friend up to a box in the third level. His heart skipped a beat. It was Abbey. She looked regal in her gown of ivory and gold damask. Had she been in London long?

  He looked to Tremayne and saw that the Viscount, too, had noticed her presence. Montague could hardly wait for intermission and was out of his seat the instant the first act drew to an end. He made his way to the third level and saw that Abbey had emerged from her box and was accepting a cup of confections from Lady Constance. The Viscount and Miss Worsely, whose box was on the same level, passed at that moment. The Viscount bumped the arm of the Baroness as he walked by. The lemon drops spilled onto her, and she dropped her opera glasses. Montague would have collared the Viscount, but too many people stood betwixt him and Treymane. Instead, he quickly made his way to the Baroness.

  “Insolent little wretch,” Lady Constance was mumbling.

  Montague picked up the glasses and returned them to Abbey. She started upon seeing him, and he was unsure of the expression upon her face. If he were unprejudiced, he would have thought that she was not pleased to see him. Lady Constance, too, seemed tentative.

  “Lady Debarlow, Lady Constance,” he bowed.

  “Mr. Edwards,” Abbey returned.

  There was no mistaking the coolness in her tone. Something was amiss.

  “Might I have a word with her ladyship?” he asked.

  Lady Constance looked at her friend, who nodded.

  “I shall not be long – or far,” Lady Constance said as she sauntered away.

  He followed Abbey into her box.

  “It has been too long,” he said as he kissed her hand. “I would take you into my arms if there were not a hundred pair of eyes present.”