The Private Affairs Of Lady Jane Fielding

by Viveka Portman

  The Private Affairs Of Lady Jane Fielding

  Viveka Portman

  Escape Publishing (2014)

  * * *

  Rating: ***

  Tags: Romance, Historical Romance, Regency England, Regency Romance

  In the world of Regency England, only one thing matters - the begetting of an heir...

  There is one fact I cannot hide nor deny. I have borne my husband no sons...

  When Lord Jacob Fielding suffers a traumatic injury denying him more children, it devastates both his present and his future. He and his wife Jane have only daughters, and the brother in line to inherit his title and lands is a disgusting reprobate, a man who should never have power over anyone.

  In desperation, Lord Fielding formulates a wicked plan. He invites his distant cousin Matthew to come and share their home... and possibly more. Jane is shocked, but cannot deny her curiosity. She loves her husband, and their situation is desperate, and Matthew is a kind, gentle, attractive man. But what can this situation bring, but tension and jealousy?

  Emotions and libidos run high as the Fielding men search for a way to satisfy the need for an heir, their own lusts, and, most importantly, the desires of Lady Jane... before time runs out....

  The Private Affairs of Lady Jane Fielding

  Viveka Portman

  The Private Affairs of Lady Jane Fielding

  Viveka Portman

  In the world of Regency England, only one thing matters — the begetting of an heir…

  There is one fact I cannot hide nor deny. I have borne my husband no sons…

  When Lord Jacob Fielding suffers a traumatic injury denying him more children, it devastates both his present and his future. He and his wife Jane have only daughters, and the brother in line to inherit his title and lands is a disgusting reprobate, a man who should never have power over anyone.

  In desperation, Lord Fielding formulates a wicked plan. He invites his distant cousin Matthew to come and share their home…and possibly more. Jane is shocked, but cannot deny her curiosity. She loves her husband, and their situation is desperate, and Matthew is a kind, gentle, attractive man. But what can this situation bring, but tension and jealousy?

  Emotions and libidos run high as the Fielding men search for a way to satisfy the need for an heir, their own lusts, and, most importantly, the desires of Lady Jane, before time runs out.

  About the Author

  Viveka Portman is an author of romantic erotic fiction, and has a fascination about times past. With a bachelor degree in anthropology, Viveka weaves historical fact into fiction to create lively, realistic and thrilling tales, sure to titillate and engage the most discerning reader.

  Considered an upstanding member of society, Viveka does not make a habit of eavesdropping, gossiping or making vulgar displays of impropriety — except, that is, in writing.

  Acknowledgements

  Once again, I’d like to thank and acknowledge the wonderful team at Escape Publishing for loving these regency tales as much as I do. Also, to Shona Husk, a great critique partner, author and friend — may we keep inspiring one another for many more years to come. Also to my family, for once more nodding and pretending to listen convincingly when I talk about my latest erotic romance. It’s awkward, I know, but I appreciate it all the same.

  To my readers – I hope you enjoy

  Contents

  About the Author

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Bestselling Titles by Escape Publishing…

  Chapter 1

  Tuesday 1st June 1813

  Fielding Place, Berkshire, England

  There is one fact I cannot hide nor deny. I have borne my husband no sons.

  It is a sad thing indeed for a family such as ours. Fielding Place needs an heir and daughters will not do. Of daughters we have no shortage — two healthy and biddable girls, who I shall state bring us much joy. Alas the demands of Fielding lineage and heredity command not joy, but a son and it is a tragedy indeed that my husband, since his accident, cannot provide our family with one, or any child it seems.

  I write this journal of our affairs in secret, for there is no one else with whom I can confide. Jacob has ever been my confidante, but now, a year since his accident, I have found myself unable to speak of the more private matters as we were once accustomed to do. Yet my desire for an understanding ear with whom to disclose my fears burns fiercely within me. Especially now, since Jacob has formulated a plan.

  This summer I shall have been married to Lord Jacob Fielding, Baron of Fielding, for near five years. I verily believe I was blessed in my father’s selection of my husband, for mine is, and ever shall be, a love match. Of course, it cannot be overstated that our marriage has been most beneficial in both financial and social aspects, but for these things I care little. Jacob is honourable, charming, pleasing to the eye and dotes upon me shamelessly. So it is with such dismay that I write about something that has turned our blessed union to a grave disappointment.

  ***

  My husband is an avid horseman. Few could cut a more dashing picture astride a stallion than Jacob. He is an expert huntsman and falconer, and often I ride alongside him, unladylike though it may be. If there is one thing for which I shall ever be grateful, it is that Jacob indulges me in such things as, I assure you, I indulge him.

  It can be no surprise then that it was an accident of the equestrian sort from which all our troubles grew.

  It was, as I have stated, over a year ago now, though the memory remains as fresh in my mind today as it was then. Often times, in the still of night, I hear the echo of my mare’s whinnies of alarm and my husband’s bellows of anguish.

  The ill-fated date was the 19th of June, 1812, a Saturday, when disaster struck. We were riding aside the pretty brook that runs along the boundary of Fielding land. I rode my mare, such a gentle, sweet thing who followed Jacob’s stallion with the curiosity only a young mare shows. Alas, when my husband and his horse jumped across a small overflowing tributary, my mare failed to do the same. She balked at the rush of water. Though it was but shallow, the weed-slicked stones caused her to slip, sending me over and her crashing to the ground.

  The next thing I knew was Jacob’s arms around me, hauling me bodily from the burbling brook. The water was cold and the side of my face, leg and arm were bruised, but thankfully I was otherwise unharmed.

  ‘My dearest,’ he murmured, his warm hands running over my face, tucking the dripping tendrils of hair from my eyes. ‘Are you hurt?’ His tone was intense but his glittering eyes even more so.

  I shook my head, though I wanted to weep and fall into his arms and have him kiss me. He was so unutterably lovely when concerned.

  As if my wish had willed him, Jacob’s head dipped towards me and I stretched upwards to brush against his lips. As I did, my mare’s frantic whinny shrieked behind us. Jacob turned, releasing me from his embrace. He glanced at me regretfully and moved towards the mare.

  ‘Lolly,’ he hushed, but her eyes rolled as he came forward. ‘Shh,’ he urged.

  Lolly whinnied again; she was shaking like a leaf in a storm. I turned to check upon Jacob’s stallion who stood not far away, watching the scene as if bored by it.

  ‘Be careful, Jacob,’ I warned him. Horses, even those as beloved as Lolly, could be unruly and unpredictable at the best of times, but especiall
y when hurt.

  ‘She’s lost a shoe,’ Jacob replied, walking beside the shaking horse to observe her rear left leg. He ran a hand down her side and she shuddered against him. ‘Damnable thing,’ he muttered, ‘it’s nearly completely off.’

  I shivered in my soaked clothing. ‘At least she’s not harmed. I’ll walk her back to the stables,’ I said, and stepped towards them.

  ‘You’ll do no such thing, you’re bloody frozen,’ Jacob retorted, his hungry eyes devouring the wet cloth of my riding habit as it clung to the cleft of my thighs. ‘I’ll help you mount Faust there, he’ll get you home, mark my words.’ He stroked Lolly again. ‘I’ll get this silly girl back while you tell the maids to draw us a bath. I’ve a mind to have you tonight.’

  His words made me blush, but I delighted in it. We both most desperately wanted a son, and relished in the making of one. ‘You have a silken tongue, Jacob,’ I chided him, and sashayed a little closer.

  ‘Ah, but you love my tongue, Jane. Don’t you?’ he whispered, and kissed my neck. His lips were hot against my chilled skin. ‘You like my tongue, for more than silken pretty words, do you not?’

  ‘I’ll not deny it,’ I breathed.

  ‘You like my tongue betwixt your thighs, don’t you?’

  ‘No,’ I whispered, his tongue gliding down my décolletage to kiss the swell of my bosom. My breath caught in my throat.

  ‘No?’ He raised an eyebrow, his face a mask of sensually amused masculinity.

  ‘No,’ I replied brazenly, ‘I adore it.’

  Jacob released a roar of laughter and picked me up, spinning me around and kissing me heartily on the lips.

  Crushed against him, my loins wetted and my heart strained beneath my stays. I loved this man and I so desperately wanted him between my legs. ‘Mayhap you would have me here?’ I gestured to the mossy banks of the brook.

  He laughed wickedly, his eyes dancing. ‘Don’t tempt me wench,’ he muttered, ‘or I may just do it.’

  Though I still shivered with cold, I shivered also from pure need. Involuntarily I found my hands grasping and hauling my wet skirts up over my ankles and knees. ‘Do it,’ I urged.

  Jacob’s growl of hunger made me gasp. He stalked towards me his hands pushing my heavy skirts high, until he found my sex, wet, open and unencumbered by drawers.

  ‘Wicked woman,’ he whispered and kissed me with breathtaking ferocity. His fingers slipped between the soaking walls of my sex and I found myself grinding against him, wanting more of him than what he offered now.

  ‘Please,’ I keened.

  Alas, my cries must have upset Lolly further and she shrieked, her partially shod hoof clacking on the river-stones.

  Jacob pulled away and threw a cautious gaze at Lolly whose eyes still rolled in fear.

  His fingers slipped from my sex, and I was suddenly empty, bereft and frustrated. He grinned at me, his white teeth shining in the dappled light of the woods, and picked me up, striding purposefully towards Faust, onto whom I reluctantly clambered.

  ‘And that’s enough for you, wench.’

  I laughed. ‘Never.’

  I did so love his wicked tongue.

  ‘Off home, woman, I shall be with you shortly.’ He smiled. ‘When I return I expect you naked and spreadeagled on our bed. You’re an accursed tease, I’ve a mind to punish you for it.’

  I looked down and saw his cock straining gallantly against his semi-sodden breeches. The sight of it sent a thrill through me, and I laughed. ‘Mayhap it is you who is the tease,’ I quipped. ‘Displaying your grandeur at such a time, Lord, I could quite lose my head.’

  Jacob’s eyes darkened with passion, ‘And so shall I if you do not leave me now.’

  Lolly whinnied in distress as if to remark on the point.

  ‘Until the bedroom, Jacob. I will be breathlessly waiting for you there.’

  His arched lip curved wickedly and he inclined his head just slightly before giving Faust a slap on the rump to send us on our way.

  I arrived back at the house in good time, though chilled to the bones. My maid emitted a squawk of alarm as I hurried inside.

  ‘Milady!’ Esther cried, her Scottish accent more pronounced in her angst. ‘Are you well? What has happened? Och! Look at your wee face! Where is Milord?’

  I smiled at her. ‘Worry not, dear Esther. I am well; a slight fall and a bruise. There is nothing to cause concern. Lord Fielding is walking Lolly home and I am under strict instructions to have a hot bath drawn for us both.’

  Esther’s concern turned to reddened embarrassment. She knew well enough the amorous and affectionate nature of our marriage to understand my inference.

  ‘Yes, well, hot bath it is, Milady. If you’d be so kind as to allow me to get rid of those wet clothes…’ She tutted and fussed, roaring orders at the lower maids to draw the baths, all the while ushering me upstairs to my rooms.

  My bath was a glorious one, placed in my rooms near the window. I soaked for a long time, the heat drawing the chill from my bones. As I rested, I tried to ignore the gnawing concern that Jacob had not yet returned. The brook was not all that far from the house, and it should not have taken more than an hour to return by foot; as I knew from experience, there was little on this goodly earth that would keep him from my bed.

  Too soon it seemed my bath grew cold, and the sun began to slip over the woods to the west. I called Esther to dress me for dinner. The time for an afternoon lazing abed with my husband had passed and, though I yearned to feel him betwixt my thighs, I was beginning to feel slightly irritated by his tardiness.

  I played with the notion of sending a search party, but declined the idea swiftly. It would cause upheaval to the staff, and most likely his delay was with good reason. Jacob may well have decided to take Lolly directly to the farriery instead; after all, it was not that far from Fielding, perhaps an extra hour.

  It was nearing six o’clock that evening when my irritation and gnawing concern could no longer be contained. I had waited long enough, and later realised I had waited far too long. Even if Jacob had decided to take my mare to the farriery, the farrier should have returned him to the Estate by now.

  I stood by the sitting room window, a glass of wine in hand, staring out over the darkened driveway and the parklands that surrounded Fielding Place. I rang the bell for Bolton, my husband’s valet.

  ‘My husband should have been returned by now,’ I said, when Bolton arrived in the sitting room with a graceful sweeping bow. ‘Send men to search for him. We parted ways down by the brook. Lolly had become unshod and he was to walk her home. I thought mayhap he had taken her directly to the farrier, but he is so late I fear some disaster has befallen him. He should have returned some hours past.’

  ‘Yes, indeed, Milady. I shall take the footmen and groomsmen to search the grounds immediately.’

  With a curt bow, Bolton left. I stood there, for how long I am uncertain, though the mantle clock ticked relentlessly, reminding me that every minute was one without my husband by my side. I tried to bide my time in the nursery with our daughters, but my presence seemed to excite them and irritate Nanny as they should have been abed.

  Thus I wandered the house like a ghost, restlessly awaiting word.

  Our meal grew cold as I refused to partake of it without Jacob’s company. Instead I draped a shawl about my shoulders and, despite Esther’s chiding, I stood in the driveway of the house staring into the darkness, watching the men’s lanterns as they scoured the grounds and woodlands for my husband and lamed horse.

  ‘Och, Milady, come inside, you’ll freeze out here,’ Esther coaxed.

  My stomach was in a bind, and I shook her off. It was at that very moment a low and horrific cry drew close to house.

  The memory of it still stabs at my heart to this day.

  ‘Jacob!’ I screamed, for I knew his voice better than any. Wildly, I began to run in the direction of the sound. My silk slippers were soaked to the toes as I rushed breathlessly over the lawns, the even
ing dew drenching the hem of my gown.

  The animal cry was closer now. ‘Jacob!’ I screamed again, and I could see lamplight heading towards me. ‘Jacob!’

  The chill night air rushed past me in my haste, sending my hair askew. Suddenly I was caught in someone’s strong arms.

  ‘Milady!’ It was Bolton. ‘You’d best be inside,’ he said, his voice tight and frightened.

  I looked up into the valet’s face, but it was shadowed and I was unable to discern his expression.

  ‘Release me! Where is he, where is my husband?’ I cried and writhed from his grip.

  ‘Milady, please!’ Bolton’s voice was raw, and in the gloom I could see four men carrying something — someone.

  ‘Jacob!’ I shrieked and ran. My heart pounded so fast I thought I may be ill. It was Jacob, but in the darkness his face was contorted with pain. His golden hair was tangled and knotted around his head. I reached and stroked his forehead, not realising until then how severely my hands trembled.

  ‘My love,’ I whispered.

  His eyes flickered open at my voice. His eyes were unfathomable, and blinded by pain. ‘Janie.’ His voice was hoarse.

  ‘Milady.’ It was Bolton again. ‘We must get him inside and with a physician.’

  My heart was stricken. ‘What happened to him?’ I sobbed, my throat so tight I could scarce form the words.

  ‘The horse has kicked him,’ ventured one of the footmen.

  They began to carry Jacob up the garden to the house and I rushed beside him, trying to keep a hand on him, so that in some small way I could comfort him in his pain as he had with me on each birthing of our children. His cries were terrible and frightening. As Bolton departed on a madly galloping palfrey to get the physician, and the maids prepared a sick room for him, I stayed by his side. I knew not then the extent of his injury, or its impact on our lives.