Regency Mischief

by Anne Herries

  Nicholas gave the order and the carriage started moving. For a few moments it travelled at a normal pace, then she felt the horses gather momentum and the carriage seemed to lurch forwards. She held on to the strap as it began to jolt and bump, throwing her forwards and then back as the horses raced down the country road. She looked out of the window. Trees, hedges and fields seemed to flash by at an alarming rate, but apart from some discomfort everything was going well.

  Lottie did not see the obstruction ahead, but she heard Nicolas’s shout of alarm and then felt his efforts to halt the carriage as he tried to stop the horses’ headlong flight. She was thrown forwards violently and then just as violently back against her seat. It was uncomfortable but exciting, dispersing the tension that had been growing between her and Nicolas these past few hours. Above her head there was shouting and some argument, she fancied, and then the carriage halted; looking out of the window, she saw they were surrounded by sheep.

  The next moment Nicolas jumped down and wrenched open the door. He glared at her and she could not help herself. She laughed at his annoyance.

  ‘Stupid animals. I think we might have rounded that corner ahead if they hadn’t blocked the road…’

  ‘You were travelling too fast. I did not want you to kill us all, Nicolas, just to prove you could handle the team.’

  ‘Well, I could until those wretched sheep appeared.’ He looked cross. ‘You had best get down. There is some bother with one of the wheels—and the sheep farmer is looking irate. I must settle with him for any distress to his beasts. I just hope the repair will not cause us much delay. We do not wish for another night on the road if we can avoid it.’

  ‘Did you not appreciate the inn last night?’

  ‘It was all very well for you, Lottie. I swear I booked two rooms—you did not have to make do with a couple of chairs in the private parlour last night.’

  ‘You could have shared my room, Nicolas. We are married. My reputation would not suffer.’

  His eyes narrowed. ‘I do not know what you are up to, Lottie—but be careful. My temper is wearing thin, even if this is supposed to be a wedding trip.’

  Lottie smiled. She was not sure why she had provoked him, perhaps she had wanted a little revenge for his neglect of her. Pretending to be asleep when he was wide awake, indeed.

  She gave him her hand and was assisted down. Shaking out the skirts of her dark-green travelling gown, she took a stroll up a small incline and looked down over the surrounding countryside. It was very beautiful, a pleasant place to stop. If she had brought a basket of food, they could have had a picnic. Turning as Nicolas came up to her, she said as much.

  ‘I suppose it is pretty enough,’ he said and smiled reluctantly. ‘All right, I admit I needed help to halt them—but I shall master it, believe me. I am not a member of the four-in-hand club, though I have driven a team of four often enough. Six is rather more tricky. However, next time we travel this way I shall be able to drive them, I promise. If we cannot go on this evening, I shall hire a curricle and pair from the first hostelry we come to and drive us to my lodge. It is not above ten miles from here.’

  ‘Good. I am hungry. I have not eaten much for a day or so.’

  ‘Nor I…’ He laughed suddenly. ‘We are an odd pair, are we not? I do not know what got into me earlier.’

  Nicolas knew very well what had made him pretend to be asleep. The scent of her sitting so close had stirred his senses, his arousal so strong that he had been hard put to keep his distance.

  ‘Shall you forgive me, Lottie? Could we possibly be friends, do you think?’

  ‘Friends?’ Her heart leaped as she saw something deep in his eyes. ‘Are you sure that is what you want, Nicolas?’

  ‘Damn it, Lottie! I have been trying to be a gentleman and not rush you.’ He reached out and drew her into his arms, crushing her against his chest, his mouth seeking hers hungrily. His lips were hard and demanding at first, then softened to a questing kiss that begged for her response. She gave it, unable to hold back as she felt the burn of his arousal when he pressed her closer still. ‘I think I have been a fool, have I not?’ His hand caressed her cheek, brushed against her sensitised breast, which peaked beneath the soft silk of her gown, bringing a gasp to her lips. A warm sweet sensation moved through her like thick honey and she spoke without thinking.

  ‘You would have been more comfortable in my bed last night, Nicolas.’

  ‘Should I? You hardly spoke to me after we left Rothsay. I thought you were angry.’

  ‘Perhaps a little,’ she admitted. ‘You ignored me for most of the journey—yesterday and this morning.’

  Nicolas laughed. ‘So you are like other ladies sometimes? You do have a little vanity?’

  ‘If I have, it has been sadly crushed. I did not think myself so ill favoured that you would leave me to sleep alone every night, Nicolas.’

  ‘I see I have been wasting my time trying to spare you,’ he said and laughed down at her. ‘I shall make up for lost time this evening, madam.’

  Lottie smiled. She did like him so very much sometimes.

  ‘I believe Coachman is trying to attract your attention, my lord. I think we are ready to go on.’

  ‘I believe I shall ride, if you do not mind, Lottie. We cannot be more than an hour or so from my house. I shall ride on ahead to make certain everything is ready.’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ she replied. ‘You must do just as you please, Nicolas.’

  ‘You keep saying that,’ Nicolas said. ‘One day you may regret having given me carte blanche.’

  Lottie stared after him as he walked to the carriage. She allowed him to help her inside, then watched as he changed places with one of the grooms and set off on horseback.

  Just what had he meant by that last remark? Did it mean that when he had had enough of her he would go to London and take up with his mistress where he had left off?

  When Lottie arrived at the hunting lodge, which was a pretty country house, small by Rothsay’s standards, but situated in a quiet park with a pleasant outlook and an approach through perfect countryside, she found the servants lined up waiting for her. There were far fewer than at Rothsay, and, apart from one maid who was to serve her, all the others were men.

  Nicolas had suggested that she leave Rose at Rothsay, because, as he put it, he wished to be private with her. She soon saw that the servants here were discreet and disappeared as soon as the meal had been served. Was it Nicolas’s custom to bring ladies here? Lottie wondered. Had his mistress stayed here—or perhaps women of easy virtue that his friends had enjoyed?

  Ladies did not have such improper thoughts, but Lottie could not help herself. She hated the little green imp of jealousy that had taken residence in her subconscious, for after all, Nicolas had never claimed to love her. Yet she could not quite squash the foolish thoughts.

  However, he did not desert her that evening, but spent an hour reading poetry to her after dinner, before suggesting that she might retire.

  Lottie went without a word. Would he simply visit and say goodnight, as he had on the two previous occasions?

  She did not have long to wait; the maid had scarcely left her when Nicolas walked through the adjoining door and stood looking at her. He was wearing a long dark-blue silk robe and his feet were bare. Lottie’s heart quickened, her pulses racing. She had been sitting at her dressing table. Now she stood up and waited uncertainly.

  ‘I know you would not refuse me,’ he said. ‘It was a part of the arrangement and you have been meticulous—but may I hope there is some warmth in your heart? Is it just a duty, Lottie?’

  ‘I know well that you do not want a clinging vine,’ she replied with a smile, ‘but I cannot deny that I shall find pleasure in our marriage, Nicolas.’

  ‘Then it is all I can hope for and must think myself fortunate after the way I forced you to marry me.’

  ‘It was not so very hard to bear once I had met you—and seen your house.’ Her eyes sparkled and
teased and he gave a shout of laughter as he drew her to him. ‘There are compensations in being married to a marquis—even if his reputation as a rake is daunting.’

  ‘You always give as good as you get, do you not?’

  ‘I have found it is best to meet a challenge head on, Nicolas. Life was not easy with Papa, especially after Mama died. Had I not been prepared to fight for what was needed, we might have foundered long before that trip to Paris.’

  ‘I think life has been unkind to you in the past, but I hope you will find it better in future.’

  ‘I am sure I shall…’ She tipped her head, her mouth slightly open as she invited his kiss. It was not long in coming. His lips demanded, his tongue explored and teased, while his hand stroked, down over her hip, cupping her buttocks as he pressed her closer.

  Lottie could not doubt the strength of his arousal; with little between them she could feel the hard bulge and the heat of him.

  ‘Come, it is time we began to know one another, Lottie,’ Nicolas said and took her by the hand. He led her to the bed, reaching for the ties that fastened her nightrail. He untied them, then pulled the filmy garment over her head, revealing her slender hips, slim waist and full breasts. ‘You are even more beautiful than I imagined…’

  ‘Am I?’ she asked her eyes on his face. She felt oddly shy as he stretched out a hand, stroking the line of her cheek, her throat and then her breast with a light touch that made her shiver.

  ‘Lie down, Lottie,’ he said huskily and divested himself of his robe. She saw that he was completely naked and her cheeks heated as she saw that he was fully aroused. ‘I think this is your first time?’

  ‘Yes…’ she breathed out on a little gasp as he lay down beside her and half-turned to him. ‘You are the first, Nicolas.’

  ‘I knew it even when I called you those names, when I believed you to be Clarice.’

  His breath was warm on her face as he began to kiss her with little feathery kisses on her brow, her nose and throat; then he took her lips in a much deeper demanding possession that made her sigh and wriggle closer.

  Nicolas laughed throatily, his hand stroking the satin arch of her back, down over her buttocks. He pulled her close so that they lay flesh to flesh, silk to satin, looking into each other’s eyes as he caressed her.

  Lottie’s breathing came quicker, her lips parting with sensual pleasure as he bent his head and his tongue caressed her nipple. She moaned and moved towards him urgently, her body seeking something she could not quite understand. Nicolas kissed her, rolled her over on to her back and then raised himself so that his eyes looked down into hers.

  ‘You are so wet and warm. I think you are ready for me, Lottie. I shall try not to hurt you too much.’

  His hand had been moving between her thighs, caressing her with a steady, almost languid movement, but now he parted her legs further as he lowered himself down to her. She felt the probe of his manhood, nudging at her, seeking entry into her moistness. She instinctively opened wider, inviting him to take her, though when he thrust deep into her silken sheath she could not prevent a gasp of pain. He stilled for a moment, allowing her to catch her breath.

  ‘The first time it is always so,’ he murmured against her throat. ‘Forgive me, my darling.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ she whispered. ‘Please do not stop. I want to be yours completely.’

  He began to move again and at first it was a little painful for her, but then as she relaxed the pain seemed far away. She let her body follow his so that when his climax came she felt something too, a little cry escaping her as she clung to him and arched into him, her legs wrapping round him.

  Nicolas nuzzled his face against her throat. ‘It will be better next time,’ he murmured. ‘You were sweet and lovely, Lottie. Thank you.’

  Lottie’s hand touched his head. She stroked his hair, tears on her cheeks. So this was what it felt like to be a woman and to love a man. If she had hoped that she would be able to stop herself giving her whole heart, she knew now that it was a vain hope. Somewhere along the line she had given everything. Did he know that—and would he care?

  Lottie did not know and she was too afraid to ask, because she did not wish to know the answer. She realised that Nicolas had fallen asleep as he lay by her side, his face buried in her hair. She moved it from his face, leaning up on her elbow to watch as he slept, thinking how peaceful he seemed…so much younger in sleep than he ever was awake.

  She touched his cheek lightly so as not to wake him, her heart aching. He had loved her tenderly and she was grateful for his care of her, but was she more to him than a fleeting pleasure? He had wanted her badly but without love how long did physical attraction last?

  She must not torture herself this way. Lottie snuggled closer to him, shutting her eyes. She must accept what he gave and not think of tomorrow.

  In the days that followed, Lottie clung determinedly to the promise she had made herself. There was always a smile on her face when Nicolas looked at her or touched her. She took pleasure in everything they did: riding, walking, playing cards, reading aloud from their favourite books, and music. Lottie was proficient at playing the pianoforte, but Nicolas had a rare talent. When he played he became wrapped up in the music, an absorbed faraway look in his eyes, as though the music carried him to a world of his own.

  ‘That was wonderful,’ she said when he played for her the first time. It was evening and they had sat over their meal and wine until the light faded from the sky. ‘I had no idea you were so talented. I have never heard you play before?’

  ‘I seldom do—especially when anyone else is staying. When I am alone I sometimes play for an hour at a time. I do not subject others to a display of my indulgence.’

  ‘I am sure they would take pleasure in your playing, as I do, Nicolas.’

  ‘Would they?’ His eyes had that strange haunted look she had seen before. ‘I think you are different, Lottie. You are more generous and kinder than some ladies.’

  Lottie had not known how to answer him. Had he really no idea how talented he was? She merely smiled and shook her head.

  She was painting a portrait of him. She had begun the sketch when they sat together in a wild meadow, and he lay back with his eyes closed, his face to the warmth of the sun. Since then she had made sketches of Nicolas in almost every pose and now she was painting a head-and-shoulders portrait that she thought she might frame and keep in her room.

  ‘You paint very well,’ Nicolas told her. ‘You have made me too handsome, but I can find no other fault with your work.’

  ‘Catching a likeness is a skill I do have,’ she said, ‘but I have much to learn about colour and texture. I do well enough for an amateur, which is all I aspire to be. I think you should have your portrait painted professionally for Rothsay, Nicolas.’

  ‘We shall both have them done,’ he said and frowned. ‘I should like to stay here longer, Lottie—but I think we should go back. I never intended to stay more than a few days and we have been here nearly three weeks. There are things that need my attention…’

  Lottie saw a brooding look in his eyes and her heart sank. Had he begun to be bored here with her? Did he miss his friends and the life he led in London—his mistress?

  Their lovemaking had been very satisfactory to her, but her courses had started that morning, which meant the nightly visits must cease for a while.

  Was Nicolas disappointed that she had not fallen for a child immediately? He had certainly loved her thoroughly these past days, sometimes three or four times a night, but she had failed to give him a swift result.

  ‘I am sorry that I have not conceived, Nicolas.’

  ‘In heaven’s name, why should you be sorry? You are not a brood mare, Lottie. It will happen in time.’

  ‘I thought you might be disappointed?’

  ‘As it happens, I would prefer to have you to myself for a while longer.’ He smiled at her. ‘I am in no hurry, Lottie.’

  She felt warmed by his smi
le. Their time here had been pleasant and she felt that she had begun to know him so much better. She had no right to ask for more. He had given all he had promised and more.

  ‘So what are you thinking?’

  ‘I was just thinking it had been very pleasant here, Nicolas.’

  ‘Yes, it has, but it is not real. We should return to Rothsay and reality before it is too late.’

  ‘I am not certain I understand you?’

  ‘Why should you? I am not certain I understand myself.’ He frowned. ‘Do you love me at all, Lottie?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ Her heart thumped because she was afraid of betraying herself and would not look at him. ‘I am very fond of you, Nicolas. You are my husband.’

  ‘Yes, I thought so,’ he replied. ‘I think I shall go for a long ride, Lottie. Do not expect me back to supper. There are some friends I wish to visit. Tell the servants to pack. We shall leave first thing in the morning.’

  Lottie felt as if he had slapped her. What had caused him to suddenly withdraw from her? Had she showed her feelings too plainly? Tears stung her eyes. She had tried so hard not to impose conditions or strings—but to no avail. He had grown tired of her as she had expected, though she had hoped he might find contentment in their arrangement, as she had.

  ‘Yes, of course,’ she said. ‘You are quite right, Nicolas. There is a great deal to do at home. This has been a pleasant interlude, but it is time to move on.’

  He inclined his head and walked purposefully from the room, leaving Lottie to fight her tears.

  Nicolas did not come in until the early hours of the morning. Lottie heard him moving around in his room. There was the sound of something falling, as if he had knocked over a stool or small table, and then he swore. She waited for a few minutes, then, as everything went quiet, took a candle and went into his bedchamber. Nicolas was lying on his bed, wearing his breeches, shirt and boots. His eyes were closed and he was snoring.