by Claudia Dain
It seemed more than possible, though it probably depended upon the man.
Certainly George Blakesley would do no such thing to her, particularly as she wanted him for a husband, possibly, and not a lover, probably.
She was still very undecided, obviously. She was, however, trying very purposefully not to be so very careful.
She approached him casually, a very mild expression painted on her face, all the while her heart hammering and her spine shivering. He stood alone, which she decided was destiny, and watched her approach. His brows lowered and his lips pursed. He did not look pleased. Perhaps he was only hungry. Breakfast was being scandalously delayed.
“Lord George,” she said as he was bowing to her, his bow most thorough, “how well you look.” He did look well, even if he also looked hungry. When a man was as compelling as George Blakesley, hunger was no obstacle.
“I’m so glad I found you alone.”
He scowled. Perhaps that had been too forward? No matter. She wasn’t going to turn tail now.
“Were you looking for me, Lady Lanreath?” he asked, his voice low.
“I was,” she said calmly, meeting his gaze. “I don’t know if this matter is of any concern to you. Indeed, I don’t know if it’s a matter at all, but I did think I should tell someone in the family and as I have more of an acquaintance with you than with anyone else . . .” She allowed her voice to trail away. She really didn’t know why she thought this would work. It wasn’t at all direct, and it might seem pointlessly minor, but it was the only even slightly logical reason she could give him for seeking him out. No matter what she wished of herself, she was no Bernadette, though she did not wish to be that at all.
“Yes, Lady Lanreath?” he said, taking a half step toward her. “Is there some problem? I would assist you, if I could.”
Not at all bad. He at least seemed eager to help her, in a lady in distress sort of fashion, which was perfectly lovely of him. It was a start.
“You are kindness itself, Lord George,” she said, smiling up at him. “It was actually more of a service to you and your family that I sought you out. I happened to overhear Lady Louisa and Lady Amelia in conversation with Miss Elliot, and from that brief snatch of conversation I do believe that there is some form of wager in place that pertains to Miss Elliot . . . and the Duke of Edenham.” The look on his face grew by turns stony and then hot, rather like a volcano about to erupt. She took a breath and hurried on, determined to be bold for once. “As Miss Elliot is a stranger to our country, and as she is also a beloved cousin, I did think you should be informed of . . . that . . .
well, there might be a chance that she is . . . in some danger of . . . being compromised.”
George looked over her head to scour the rest of the room. She chanced a look around as well. Jane Elliot’s brother, the elder one, stood not fifteen away, deeply embroiled in a conversation with Edenham’s sister, Lady Richard. Lord Dutton was sitting on one of the sofas, his chin on his chest, snoring drunkenly. And before breakfast, too! Whatever had happened to that man? Some woman, almost certainly. Antoinette thought she knew the woman, too. Mrs. Warren, who had recently become Lady Staver-ton. She would have felt far more compassion for Dutton if he had managed his disappointment in some more pleasing and discreet way, one that did not involve public snoring.
George looked back to her and she swiftly met his gaze.
“I am flattered that you have come to me with this, Lady Lanreath. As Lady Richard is conversing with Jedidiah Elliot, it shows profound sensitivity that you chose not to interrupt them.”
And it would have accomplished very little in the way of talking to George, but wasn’t it perfect that he didn’t realize her motive? Or was it? She didn’t actually want him completely in the dark about her interest in him. That was the whole point!
Oh, bother. Men were such idiots.
“Thank you, Lord George,” she said. “I also must confess that, because of our prior warm relationship, I felt so much more at ease in discussing this with you. I knew you would know just how to manage things.”
There. That should let him see her true feelings.
He looked into her eyes, his hooded gaze intense. Everything about George Blakesley was intense. It was quite exhilarating.
“Lady Lanreath, I shall attempt to do so now. Thank you. If you will excuse me?” he said, and then he bowed and walked away from her.
Antoinette watched him leave the room by the doorway to the red reception room. Well, that hadn’t gone quite as well as she had hoped, but perhaps it was a start.
Katherine, Lady Richard had hoped for a more enthusiastic start in her conversation with Jedidiah Elliot. Rather typical for her, really. She always hoped for much and received very far below her hopes. Small wonder she rarely left Edenham House. What would have been the point? At least the children didn’t disappoint her.
William and Sarah, Hugh’s two small ones, were the center of her life. They were not her children, yet they were the center of her life. Pathetic, really, but at least she had them. Or would, until Edenham married again.
He would marry again. He always did. No reason for him not to, really. He was a loving man, a man who loved family and children and women, which was not as common as one might have thought.
Katherine sighed under her breath and watched Jedidiah speak. He was a man of few words, and those words spoken with care, but he was clearly passionate about his ship and the sea. He was going on about it now, something about how much sail she could carry, and his eyes were lit like beacon fires.
If she did manage to get him into her bed, she really must make certain she did not conceive a child. That would be highly awkward. She wasn’t even certain Edenham would forgive her.
Jedidiah would likely make lovely children.
Katherine jerked her attention back to what he was saying, banishing all thoughts of children from her mind. Not, however, banishing Jedidiah from them. She simply would have to be more direct. There was nothing for it. He didn’t seem to understand that, by talking to him for so long, in such privacy, that she was nearly shouting her intentions into his very handsome face. Americans apparently didn’t hear shouts in this particular language, the language of propriety and decorum.
Well, then, she’d made up her mind, chosen her man, and she’d just be out with it.
Right, then.
The next time he stopped for breath . . .
Something about the size of the fish off of Newfoundland . . . and then . . .
“It does sound fascinating,” she said, “and I’m sure you’ll be back to sea quite soon, and eager for that day, as I can quite clearly understand, but before the tide turns, Captain Elliot,” she said, drawing her words out, looking down at the fan in her hands, turning it over and over not at all gracefully, “I was wondering if you’d like to spend an hour or two in my bed?”
There! She’d done it!
Silence greeted her question, which was a bit disappointing considering how hard she’d worked at it all.
She dared to look up at his face, and, quite unexpectedly, Jedidiah Elliot did not have any expression on his face at all, not even mild curiosity. Certainly nothing so enthusiastic as interest.
In fact, out of that barren face, void of all emotion, he said, “I beg your pardon?”
“I beg your pardon, Lady Paignton,” Joel said. “I don’t believe I heard you.”
Bernadette, having spent the better part of half an hour in the Hyde back garden, which was quite nice as gardens went but as she was not interested in horticulture, particularly when it was starting to mist and her shoes were not at all designed to scramble over a slippery stone walk, was entirely certain that Joel Elliot had heard her.
She was, after all, leaning against his arm and whispering into his ear.
It was utterly absurd to think that such a young man could already be deaf.
No, it was not that. Could it be that he was refusi
ng her?
But, why?
“Would you like me to repeat it, or would you rather I show you?” she purred.
Joel jumped slightly and moved away from her on the walk. The hedge was thick. The walk was narrow. Where was he going to go?
“Lady Paignton, I begin to wonder if there has been some misunderstanding between us,” Joel said. His back was stiff, his shoulders rigid. He was not smiling. Not very fun-loving, these Americans.
“I don’t see how,” she said, rubbing against him. “Is it that you’ve never taken a lover before, Captain Elliot? Have I shamed you somehow? I can assure you that I would not take it at all amiss to be your first. We all must have a first, after all. Some are endured and some are enjoyed. I would make very certain that you enjoyed yourself completely.”
Now he looked annoyed, even outraged. Perhaps there was something wrong with her dress? She’d never had so much trouble before in getting a man to unbutton and deliver the goods. Bernadette couldn’t help glancing down at her dress; it looked perfectly fine to her, the muslin unsullied and petal thin. What more did the man want?
“Is this a jest?” he asked, scowling down at her. He was even handsome when he scowled. Perhaps he was one of those men who grimaced and groaned whilst coupling; done well, with the right degree of fervor, it could be very entertaining. “Baiting the rough American?” he said.
“Not at all,” she said, studying him. Oh, this was taking far too long and becoming needlessly complicated.
“Whyever should you think that? I find you a most attractive man. I had hoped you found me at least mildly appealing. I am unencumbered. You are as well.” She shrugged and looked at him, one eyebrow raised. “Can we not enjoy each other, at least until breakfast is called, and perhaps, if we mutually desire, even after? Wouldn’t that be a pleasant way to spend a few empty moments?”
“Moments?” Joel said in a hushed voice.
A hushed voice; did that mean he was still outraged or perhaps only trying to be discreet? It was so difficult to read these Americans. What did they do to entertain themselves on that continent? One assumed they did, actually, have time for entertainment. One did hear so many tales of their endless labors and ceaseless strivings. Perhaps that was the problem. Joel Elliot simply might not know how to pass a few minutes in a highly pleasurable yet essentially meaningless pastime. Poor boy. There was so much she could teach him.
“You would lift your skirts to fill a few empty moments?”
Joel said.
Bernadette smiled and said, “You could lift them. That might be fun. Won’t you give it a try? I do think you’ll like it. Everyone does.”
Joel’s expression changed again. The sun was low against the sky and the sky heavy with cloud. It was not the most ideal of situations, but should certainly serve for a quick assignation of the most casual sort. Why, if he had his wits about him, they could tussle together for five minutes, getting all the necessary bits done, and then be back inside well in time for the first course.
“Everyone likes what, Lady Paignton?” Joel asked. His voice sounded carefully bland. Carefully . . . that was the bit that alerted her. “Lifting your skirts for a quick tumble or just coupling in general? I find I’m confused about which. You can understand that, can’t you?”
The deportment of a pig, that much was more than clear.
Here she’d made the simplest, most pleasant of offers, and this was his response?
“Captain Elliot,” Bernadette said, refusing to run screaming into the house. She never screamed, not unless it would add to the moment. “I seem to have offended you.
I do apologize.”
He did not look appeased. Well, what was to be done?
She’d behaved beautifully and he’d mangled the entire thing. Odd behavior, even for an American.
“Captain Elliot,” Katherine said, refusing to back down.
She’d come this far, made her offer, and she was not going to ruin it all now by sobbing. Not unless she thought it might help. It didn’t look likely. “I fear I have shocked you.
Shall I apologize?”
By the look on Jedidiah’s face, an apology was not going to be enough.
“I’m afraid I don’t know the protocol, Lady Richard,”
Jedidiah said, looking quite grim, which did not hamper his attractiveness in the least. She did think he was her best choice for a quick assignation. Weren’t seamen supposed to be rather more willing than not to indulge in sultry liaisons with women all over the earth? What was wrong with her that even a man like Jedidiah, a sailor and an American, found her wanting? “You seem to have more experience at this than I. Why don’t you do what seems best to you?”
That was most assuredly an insult. How could he have failed to understand the high compliment she was paying him? Did he think she lifted her skirts for anyone?
Actually, he might have done. What did he know of her?
Nothing. It was partly for that reason that she had chosen him. He was a stranger, and would remain so, even . . .
after.
Coupling with Richard had been quite nice. He had been clean and pleasant, saying all the correct things, but more importantly, not saying anything to give offense. That had been very important to her, and it still was, but why had it been the important thing? Richard had said everything beautifully, and he had behaved abysmally. He had dressed well and ridden well and looked entirely proper upon any occasion, and he been a vain, thoughtless, selfish man.
But the coupling had not been a problem. She’d liked that well enough. Oh, it was not anything to inspire a son-net, but it had been . . . fine. Simply fine. He had been very clean. That made a good bit of difference, in everything.
Jedidiah looked very clean, his blue eyes and light hair adding to the impression. Richard’s hair had been brown, his eyes brown; nothing at all remarkable, but pleasant enough. Jedidiah did not look pleasant. Ever. He looked something else entirely. What, she wasn’t quite certain, but it was not pleasant. Clean, though. She did like that.
“Captain Elliot,” she said, taking a step nearer to him.
He might have wanted to back away from her, but he was in between the window and a corner of the room. She’d caught him nicely, if she did say so. For someone so new to this, it could have gone a lot worse. “I have done what seems best to me. I am a widow, of which you may or may not be aware, and I . . . find you to be a very fine-looking man. I had hoped you might find me . . .”
How to say it? That she expected him to find her beautiful? A most awkward thing to say. However did Sophia manage it? This luring men into seductions was most difficult.
“Willing?” Jedidiah supplied.
A definite insult. This truly was not going at all well.
Nineteen
It was going well. Of course, nothing had actually happened yet, but he was with her and seemed eager enough to. . . .whatever it was that he wanted to do. What Jane wanted was to be kissed, and even, if conditions were right, to be fondled. Everything that had already happened to her, only more so. This was her perfect opportunity, and Edenham was her perfect man . . . no, no, that’s not at all what she meant. What she meant was that Edenham was the perfect man for this.
Because she would never see him again.
Because he seemed eager to do it.
Because he also gave every appearance of being very, very good at it.
That one kiss had been quite remarkable. Nothing at all like Nathaniel Talbott’s cool lips pressed tightly against her own. What would it be like without light and sound distracting her? All those eyes watching them; she had lost herself in his kiss, but not to the point of forgetting. Only to the point of not truly caring.
There was power in a kiss like that.
But where to do it? A house full of guests, every candle lit, every room occupied. Her brothers about somewhere.
Perhaps Edenham didn’t even realize what she wanted of him. It was mor
e than likely. She had been rather abrupt with him, more than once, too. Men did like a certain level of warmth from a woman, there was no secret about that.
On the other hand, he kept coming back, didn’t he? That bespoke a certain level of interest, a very high level.
Jane nearly preened. She didn’t want Edenham, but since everyone else thought he was the most handsome, the most desirable man of the Town, it wasn’t entirely unpleasant to be hotly pursued by him.
“I don’t suppose you want to tell me about Ezekiel Biddle,” Edenham said as they walked casually, or as casually as they could with everyone staring at them, across the room toward the door to the stair hall. “A woman throws a man’s name about like that, it inspires more than a little curiosity.”
Good. Although Ezekiel Biddle, with his very average looks, if one discounted his crooked nose, was no Duke of Edenham. And she wasn’t referring to his title. No, Edenham was easily the most handsome man she had ever seen.
In that, women of both England and America were in firm agreement. He was tall, fully as tall as President Washington had been, his hair was a pleasing shade of dark brown, his eyes were a tantalizing color, both green and brown at once, and his features were most pleasingly arranged. His nose was not crooked. Not even after Jed taking a fist to the face once or twice. That had been a good bit of luck. For him, certainly, not for her. She didn’t care what happened to his nose. She was leaving the country, after all. She’d never see his face again, no, nor any other part of him.
She could see Ezekiel Biddle any time she wanted.
The thought did nothing to cheer her. It never had.
“Mentioning him distresses you?” Edenham said, leaning slightly to look into her face as they passed into the stair hall. The stair hall was not deserted. She had hardly expected it to be, but what were they to do here?
“No, not at all,” she said.
“He did not break your heart?”
Jane smiled. “Of course not. I protect my heart very well, which is no secret to Mr. Biddle,” she said.
“Ah, you beat him,” Edenham said, nodding, a smile teasing his mouth. His bruised, cut mouth. Her heart skipped a beat, perhaps two. “Did you use a cudgel or did your brothers do your beating for you?”
