She had been tempted to suggest a visit to his bedchamber, if for no other reason than to put the man out of his misery. But he had been drinking, and she really didn’t want to experience her first night with her husband-to-be when his breath was sour and his brain was in an inebriated state.
But the fact that his inebriated state found her as attractive as his sober side was rather satisfying. That his manhood would deign to stand at attention in her presence was even more satisfying.
Lancaster had never been able to perform when he was inebriated.
Thank the gods.
Another frisson shot through her body, reminding her exactly what that particular erect rod of anatomy was designed to do. At least, she hoped it would. Not having had a very good lover for her first husband, Elise was rather looking forward to being bedded by a man who had experience pleasing a bedmate. Providing pleasure before he saw to his own.
The pleasant sensation of another frisson had her inhaling sharply, which had her peaches nearly escaping from the lacy bodice of her diaphanous gown. Then they nearly did again when she realized Godfrey was watching her from the dressing room door.
Elise stilled her movements and regarded him for a moment. Garbed in a dressing gown of deep blue, he looked every inch the viscount he was. He also looked a bit pale. As pale as he had appeared when he had first set her down after carrying her to the bedchamber.
“Hello,” she murmured, a bit embarrassed when she realized he might have been watching her the entire time she had been twirling about in front of the cheval mirror. She hurried over to him, hoping the gown and negligée were doing their duty in floating behind her. “You look ...” She paused when she realized he looked even more pale and nervous than he had when he had dropped her next to her bed. “Like a newlywed,” she managed to get out.
Having already taken in her gown and negligée, Godfrey managed a nod. “My compliments to your modiste,” he whispered hoarsely. “Jesus, Elise. You look like some sort of Greek goddess,” he murmured. “One of the naughtier ones.”
Her inhalation of breath loud in her ears, Elise took another step closer to her husband. “Truly? I thought perhaps... it might be a bit much. Or not enough?” she added as one of her eyebrows arched up, daring him to make some sort of suggestive comment. She allowed the sentence to trail off, though, when she realized he hadn’t yet moved from where he stood, nor did he grin at her attempt at humor. “Are you ... feeling well? I apologize if I was such a burden when you carried me ...”
She couldn’t complete the thought when Godfrey’s lips were suddenly covering hers. Covering hers with a kiss that was exactly like the first one they had shared. Faith! That had been when they were but nineteen and sixteen years of age. Betrothed in spirit, but not in fact. Committed to one another, but destined to live apart. Live lives that didn’t meet their expectations.
When Godfrey finally pulled away to regard her, Elise opened her eyes and stared up at him. Still pale and still looking as if he might faint at any moment, his gaze managed to speak volumes. Elise furrowed her brows. “Whatever is wrong?” she asked in a hoarse whisper.
Godfrey finally allowed a long sigh, his solemn manner completely unexpected. “I have something I need to tell you, my sweet,” he murmured. “And...” He paused to take in the bright, white linens that were exposed on the bed before allowing another long sigh. “I can put it off no longer.”
At least, that’s what he imagined he should say to his new wife. He wasn’t quite sure what he said just then.
Chapter 33
Contemplating a Best Friend
Meanwhile, back at Breckinridge’s quarters in Green Street
Adam dismissed his valet and thought of Diana. She was in the hastily made up mistress suite just on the other side of the dressing room. He knew her maid was with her for he could hear the chit hanging up clothes through the door that connected the bedchambers.
Tamping down the bit of nervousness he felt, Adam forced himself to take a seat at his writing desk. He considered penning a congratulatory note to his best friend. Fenn was about to be a rich man, for not only did the earl win a rather lucrative bet at White’s—Adam’s marriage to Diana had accomplished that fête—Fenn claimed in a short note that he had sold something of immense value for a good deal of blunt. On top of that, he would be gaining a dowry from marrying a well-respected daughter of the ton.
My sister.
Adam rather doubted it would be as large a dowry as what James Burroughs, Duke of Ariley, had settled on him. Quite unexpectedly and without a verbal word, a liveried footman had delivered the short note late that afternoon. The Right Hon. The Viscount Breckinridge was printed on the outside in a hand obviously owned by a fastidious secretary or clerk. Inside the paper was a cheque for the amount of fifty-thousand pounds and a short missive.
Dear Lord Breckinridge,
Now that you’ve gone and made my daughter your viscountess, I know you’ll strive to make her a happy woman and, eventually, a proud countess. May I suggest you use the enclosed cheque toward the purchase of a larger townhouse? At least fourteen rooms, I should think. I suspect there is no nursery in your humble abode, and I expect you’ll make me a grandfather within the year. In fact, I am counting on it (as is my duchess). You’ll need an heir, after all. Do take care of my daughter, won’t you? After our discussion this morning before you said your vows, I have every reason to believe she feels affection for you, so I would be disappointed to learn her feelings have changed because you’ve gone and done something unforgivable.
Very disappointed.
The missive was signed and sealed with the ducal insignia, although a postscriptum was also written in smaller script, as if the secretary had penned the main letter and the duke himself had written the rest.
When you meet my eldest daughter, Daisy, do encourage her to pay me a visit. We have been estranged these past eight years, although I cannot figure why. I thought we had parted on amiable terms when she left our care. Perhaps an encouraging word from you will have her paying me a visit.
Ariley.
Adam blinked after reading the postscript, and blinked again at the signature.
Ariley?
He sat down hard on his bed and reread the missive. Well, he had every intention of pleasing Diana. He had every intention of getting a child on her, if not tonight, then in the next day or so. Or week, if that’s what it took. Having used French letters for his other encounters with women who had long since given up their virtue, he had no experience in the matter of bedding a virgin.
He rather hoped his wife didn’t have any experience whatsoever, and then they would be on equal footing. So to speak.
Chapter 34
A Viscount Makes His Confession
Meanwhile, back in the mistress suite at Thorncastle House
Godfrey Thorncastle peeked through the opening he had created when he pushed on the door that connected his dressing room to the mistress bedchamber. He watched as Elise Burroughs Batey Thorncastle twirled about, her scandalously translucent gown leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination when it came to her arms, her breasts, her body, and her toes. Why, he could have stood there all night and simply reveled in the fact that she was doing such a thing in the mistress suite of his townhouse. Her twirling about suggested she was happy to be his wife. Happy to be the Viscountess Thorncastle.
My viscountess.
My wife, he reminded himself as he felt his member respond. Well, at least it could respond. He had wondered if his body would betray him on such an auspicious occasion.
The most important night of his entire life.
The fact that he could pull her into a kiss probably surprised him more than it did her. At least part of his brain was working. When his lips finally let go of hers, he remembered her comment and realized he hadn’t yet responded.
“You were not, nor shall you ever be, a burden, my lady,” he managed to get out as he felt the dressing room door close behind him.
That would be because I’m leaning against it, he reasoned. Using it for support. Goodness, but when had Elise managed to get so close? he wondered as he realized she was giving him an expression of expectation. An expression that suggested she was far more ready for what was to take place in her bed than he was.
Elise regarded him with a wan smile. “Thank you for saying so, Godfrey,” she whispered. “I can call you ’Godfrey’, I hope?” she half-asked. “Or Thorncastle, should you prefer, but—”
The viscount blinked. “Whenever you wish,” he acknowledged with a nod. “And may I call you ‘Elise’?”
Elise blinked. Had the man ever called her anything else? “But, of course,” she replied with a quick nod of her head.
He nodded in turn. “Your gown is... bewitching,” he managed to get out, his gaze traveling down the front of her body and back up until their eyes locked. “You look like a goddess.”
“I have others like it,” Elise murmured, immediately regretting the comment. She had intended to use them on nights when she needed to curry favor with her husband. No need to forewarn him they existed.
“Then I shall be under your spell for the rest of my life, I expect,” he countered quietly.
Elise allowed a sigh of contentment. “Thank you for waiting for me. I truly thought you would find another to take as your wife. To make your viscountess when my brother interfered with our plans,” she managed as she leaned into his solid body, the front of her body molding into his as if they had been made to embrace. “I wouldn’t have blamed you if you had. Not one bit.” She took heart in how his arms suddenly encompassed her body and pulled her hard against his chest. Goodness, but his heart was beating hard. Beating fast.
“There has never been another, Elise,” he whispered, his voice sounding urgent.
Elise leaned her head back and regarded him for a moment. “And what of your mistress?” she wondered, thinking he must have employed one for the past ten or so years. Perhaps he had even fathered a child or two. The man was in his mid-thirties, after all. “What nights do you share with her?”
Godfrey blinked before allowing a frown. “I don’t,” he replied with a shake of his head. “In fact, I’ve never employed a mistress.”
It was Elise’s turn to blink. “Oh,” she replied in surprise. Dammit. That meant the man simply took his pleasure with whatever lady of the evening might be available on any given night. Were they delivered to his back door? Or did he visit a brothel...?
Watching Elise work out the more obvious conclusions had Godfrey wondering at how much he should admit just then. He wanted to tell her there had been no others, but to do so meant he wouldn’t have the opportunity to simply try making love to his wife without the benefit of any experience in the matter.
What wife would be accepting of a husband who had never bedded another woman? he wondered. Elise was probably expecting an experienced lover. A man who could see to her pleasure before taking his own. And do so several times in one night.
Oh, God, he thought in dismay. Not me.
“Is there a particular night you pay a visit to a...?” Elise started to ask.
“No,” Godfrey replied quickly. He managed a rather loud sigh. “If you recall, my father died on the eve of my sixteenth birthday,” he said as his forehead moved to rest on hers.
Elise felt the weight of his head suddenly fall onto her forehead. She had to tamp down the thrill she experienced at realizing her husband no longer took pleasure in the arms of a mistress or a prostitute. “You honor me, husband,” she whispered with a sigh. Her eyes widened before she pulled away from him.
“I always have, my lady,” Godfrey replied, one brow arching up in the hopes she would take his meaning.
Godfrey was rather stunned when Elise planted her lips against his, the firm pillows taking purchase in an urgent, hard and completely unrelenting kiss that had him so surprised, he forgot his immediate concern and concentrated on returning the kiss.
They had never kissed like this, not when they were younger, and certainly not since his proposal. He rather hoped they would do this often, embrace one another and simply get lost in a kiss.
When Godfrey finally pulled away, determined to catch his breath and to determine just what had her behaving so, he allowed a wan smile. “I’ve worried for years you wouldn’t be satisfied with a virgin for a husband,” he added with a sigh of relief.
Elise stared at her husband for a good ten seconds, wondering if perhaps she should respond or accuse him of being a bounder. “Virgin?” she repeated in shock.
Godfrey realized too late that Elise hadn’t understood his earlier words. She hadn’t made the connection when he made his claim that she had always been the only one. Hadn’t known of his devotion to her from afar.
When it was evident he could no longer keep secret his monk-like life from the lady, he sighed. “I couldn’t bed another,” he said with a shake of his head. “Another woman would never have meant anything... ” He stopped when he realized Elise was staring at him, the look of shock still on her face.
“You’ve never bedded a woman?” she whispered, a hint of dismay coloring her voice. And then Godfrey watched as her head seemed to sway and bobble a bit before her eyes suddenly rolled up and her body went limp.
Given his arms were still around her body, Godfrey was quick to keep her from falling to the floor. In fact, he was able to scoop her up into his arms and place her onto the bed, his murmured, “No, no, no, no,” rising in volume as he did so. “I thought I was the one who was going to faint,” he said, despite knowing Elise probably couldn’t hear him at that moment.
He had certainly felt as if he would, the way his breathing was so labored, his heart racing too fast. With his concern now for his wife, he found his thoughts completely on her, his worry for her rather than on his impending performance—or lack thereof.
Once he had her on the bed, he frowned as he wondered how he might revive her. With the translucent fabric of her gown hugging her every curve, and the robe that barely covered anything, and her blonde hair splayed out across the pillows, she looked as angelic as she did devilish. As much a goddess as a seductress.
He rather liked the thought of her seducing him for the rest of his life. Rather liked the thought that she might spend her nights in his arms—in his bed or in hers—as he slumbered.
His member certainly had no intention of slumbering just then, he realized. Good God! He was as hard as ever, aroused beyond his normal morning tumescence.
Placing a hand along the side of her face, he lowered his lips to hers and gave her a quick kiss. “Sweeting, wake up now,” he whispered. He rubbed her cheek a bit with his palm, his thumb tracing the curve of her lip. When her hand suddenly covered his, she opened her eyes.
Godfrey allowed a sigh of relief. “I cannot believe you would faint on me on our wedding night,” he accused with a teasing grin. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it.
Elise took a deep breath, the motion causing the barely-there bodice of her gown to expose far more than it had when she was standing. Godfrey dared a quick glance down before returning his attention to her eyes, aware his manhood had taken notice as well.
“And here I thought you were about to faint,” she countered with a wan smile.
“I was,” he admitted, leaning down to give her another kiss. When he pulled away, he angled his head and sat down on the edge of the bed. “Are you disappointed?”
Elise reached out with a hand to wrap it around his elbow. She gave it a tug, an invitation of sorts for him to join her. When he didn’t move to do so, she said, “Lie down, won’t you? So that I may tell you how honored I feel at this moment.”
Godfrey’s double-take had his brows furrowing. “You’re not disappointed?” he asked again as he settled onto the bed next to her. When Elise rolled against him, he lifted his arm to wrap it about her shoulder, a bit hesitant in his moves. When she rested her head into the small of his shoulder, he finally relaxed a bit. �
��Or feeling a bit deceived, perhaps?”
Allowing a titter in response, Elise slid her hand beneath the opening of his robe and reveled in how he suddenly sucked in a breath at her touch. “I am not disappointed. Not exactly,” she whispered, deciding not to admit that she was looking forward to an experienced lover. “As for feeling deceived, I suppose it’s my own fault. Like you, I assumed something that wasn’t true.”
“Because there was gossip about me?” he wondered suddenly. Although he didn’t read The Tattler, he occasionally overheard the on-dit at White’s. He’d never heard anything said about him.
The pads of her fingers found one of his nipples and barely skimmed over it, eliciting another gasp from him before she replied, “I don’t recall. In fact, I don’t believe I’ve ever seen or heard anything about you in that regard,” she admitted, lifting her head to regard him directly. “I suppose an apology is in order.”
Godfrey allowed a wan smile, rather liking how her soft curves had molded to the side of his body, and how the curtain of her blonde hair nearly hid one of her eyes. “Let’s just say we’re even and leave it at that,” he suggested, pulling her down so he could kiss her again. He groaned when her questing hand found a particular spot beneath one rib, causing a shiver to pass through his entire torso. “How did you know how to do that?” he whispered in query, tamping down the flash of jealousy he felt at thinking Lancaster might have been the beneficiary of her touches in the past.
The Secrets of a Viscount Page 23
