Lord Eynsford summoned Boothby, who had long since become inured to dressing his master in the hated solicitor’s suit. He did so now with the frozen mien he always adopted when forced to undertake this distasteful task, and the marquess soon emerged in the part of Mr. Markham. Eynsford reflected that he would miss the solicitor; he had come to be rather comfortable in the role, and had enjoyed the strange sense of freedom that it had provided him. While Mr. Markham did not, of course, have the wealth and power of the marquess, he also did not have the attention of others fixed on his every move, and Mr. Markham had been able to befriend Lady Morgan where the marquess had been rejected.
Chisholm accepted his master’s appearance stoically, and sat silently as they drove to Kensington. Eynsford was too involved with his own thoughts to converse; he was wondering how exactly to broach the fact that he was a peer of the realm and an arbiter of fashion, and not a solicitor at all. “Pardon me, Lady Morgan, but I have been deceiving you as to my identity,” hardly seemed a promising opening, and “I beg to inform you that I am the Marquess of Eynsford,” was hardly better. He sighed. Chisholm gave him a sharp glance. So all was not well with the lovely gentlewoman? Well, his lordship could not say Chisholm had not warned him. The groom stared straight ahead, enjoying that certain glow that having been proven right brings.
Letitia started that morning feeling quite pleased with life. She had hopes that she might not see Dr. Wolfe again for several days, and her resolution of the afternoon before to go out into public more and meet more people still seemed well-advised. She wrote a short note to Isobel, describing the events that had followed her visit of the previous afternoon. Letty made it clear that, despite her consternation, she was able to find these amusing, and informed Isobel that she would be delighted to come to dinner at any time Isobel chose. “You may even,” she added, “invite others, including the dreaded Lord Eynsford.”
Letitia then repaired to the sitting room, where she set to work arranging the flowers Nellie had purchased at the market that morning. When Lord Eynsford was ushered into the room she presented a charming picture, her fair head bent over a grouping of lilies, her delicate white hands placing them just so, a look of concentration on her lovely face.
“Mr. Markham,” the maid announced, and Letitia raised her head, surprise in her eyes. Usually they met in the park, and then proceeded to her house. Not that she regretted his presence, she thought, as she eyed his fine figure. She felt a frisson of excitement wash over her.
“My lady,” he said with a bow. “I must apologize for intruding upon you.”
Letitia deserted her flowers and came forward, a smile on her face. “I am very happy to see you, Mr. Markham,” she said. “There is no need to apologize.”
“I am aware that visiting you uninvited is unconventional,” he ventured, “but I wished to convey my regret if I made you uncomfortable yesterday. It was not well done of me to speak so rudely to Dr. Wolfe.”
Letitia attempted to look stern, but an irrepressible smile peeped out. “If I were at all fond of Dr. Wolfe I might be upset with you,” she said. “But in truth I must admit that I find him very tiresome.”
An answering smile broke on Phillip’s face. He had thought that Lady Morgan did not like the bishop, and Lord Exencour had confirmed the suspicion, but he was glad to hear it from her own lips. He did not care for the idea of someone as delicate and gentle as Lady Morgan being subjected to the company of the insensitive Dr. Wolfe.
“I am glad you did not take offense,” he said. “I know it is not my place to interfere in your affairs.”
“Dr. Wolfe’s character would be enough to make many people behave far worse than you did,” observed Letitia. “I can only say that I was not offended, and I was even grateful that you interceded for me.” She gave another laugh. “He, however, is another story. I fear he found your behavior inappropriate.”
“Did he indeed?” asked the Marquess.
“Oh yes,” said Letitia naively. “He said that no solicitor he knew would ever behave so to him.” She paused. “I should not be repeating our conversation to you, but I do find him so annoying that it is difficult to resist.”
“You are betraying no confidences, I think,” said Eynsford. “He made it quite plain what he thought of me, after all.”
Letitia giggled. “He did, didn’t he? He looked as though he would pop! To be so appalled because I converse with a solicitor!”
Phillip smiled. Lady Morgan looked so lovely with laughter lighting her eyes that his breath was quite taken away, and he resisted the urge to pull her into his arms. It occurred to him that this was the best moment for him to broach the subject of his occupation. Their conversation had actually provided an opening, and in this merry mood she might be less distressed by the disclosure. He opened his mouth to speak.
“Of course,” continued Letitia, who had returned to the contemplation of the lilies, “I must be very happy that you are indeed a solicitor. For if you were a gentleman I could in no wise trust you. I positively believe that they are, all of them, deceitful wretches.”
Phillip closed his mouth. “It cannot be possible that they are all untrustworthy,” he protested.
“I was speaking in jest,” replied Letitia. “But I must say that I believe I mean it. My friend Lady Exencour was used to rail again gentlemen and their ways, and I always attempted to temper her feelings. Now I find I share them. Except for her husband, my experiences with the men I am supposed to admire and respect have been excessively disappointing. I cannot abide their way of thinking they know best and keeping secrets from me.”
Eynsford was silent. The conversation had taken a sudden turn that made any admission of his own deceitfulness unlikely to be received with approval.
“Have I shocked you?” asked Letitia. “I do not mean to sound so fierce. It is not that I dislike all men. I am very fond of Lord Exencour and you have proven a good friend to me. But the two of you have been honest with me, a quality I prize.”
“Honesty is, of course, very important,” agreed Phillip. “But are there not times when it is necessary to conceal information?”
“I will not say I cannot conceive of such a circumstance,” allowed Letitia. “But I do not think it honorable, and I would not care to be involved in such a situation. I have been so before and it was not pleasant. Even though I am a woman, I deserve to be treated with respect.”
“Naturally you do,” agreed Eynsford. “I hope your experiences will improve in the future.”
“But why am I haranguing you?” asked Letitia. “I have no cause to imagine you are deceiving me. You have been my very trustworthy friend, and I thank you for that. And now, Mr. Markham, tell me what you think of my flowers. I find them quite lovely, what do you think?”
Phillip turned to contemplation of the flowers, and managed to give them enough attention that Lady Morgan was satisfied. He realized to his dismay that it would be impossible to inform Lady Morgan of his true identity today without causing her great distress; indeed, he wondered if he would ever be able to tell her and retain her friendship. Her past experiences had caused her to not only distrust gentlemen of her own class, but also to abhor secretiveness. This quandary required further consideration if he was to untangle the problems he had caused by his deception. Surely there was some way to make her see he meant no harm by his actions.
Letitia, completely unaware of the concern that roiled her friend, turned towards him with a warm smile. “Was that apology the only reason you called on me?” she asked.
Phillip hesitated. She fairly glowed in the sunlight, and her expression was more than welcoming. If he followed his passions, however, he would only be compounding the problem. He hesitated, fighting back his desire.
Letitia raised an eyebrow. “Is something wrong, Mr. Markham?” she asked. She took a step closer to him, and he could smell her fresh scent.
He shook his head. “Not at all,” he answered. “I simply thought that the children would b
e about.”
“They are out with Violet, and should be gone some time.” She moved a step closer, and looked up at him flirtatiously. “Are you suddenly shy, Mr. Markham? What can I do to encourage you?”
Phillip caught his breath as she slowly raised her hands, cupping her breasts so that they swelled up in the neckline of her dress. “Would this help?” she asked.
He felt himself swelling in response to her overture, and took a deep breath, unsure whether it would be worse to reject her advances, or follow her lead. When she stepped closer to him and let one hand stray to the now-evident bulge in his pantaloons, saying, “I see that I have piqued your interest,” he gave up the fight.
Almost before he had realized it, Letitia had unbuttoned his breeches, and to Phillip’s surprise, she dropped to her knees before him, and grasped his now throbbing erection. “I think this might encourage you to stay,” she said, looking up at him teasingly.
A vague thought of protesting drifted through his mind, but when he felt the warm, wet caress of her tongue on the head of his shaft, all rationality fled, as he groaned in pleasure. He relished the grip of her soft palms on him, and the flutter of her tongue on the sensitive spot just below the bulbous head, amazed by her passionate assault. At the same time, he was flooded with tenderness for her, and gently pressed his fingers through her angelic curls, caressing her head soothingly before reaching down to tease the nipples that pressed tightly against the thin muslin of her bodice.
Phillip soon realized that he couldn’t take much more without release, and he gently pressed her away.
“Enough, Letitia, I want to please you as well,” he whispered.
He reluctantly withdrew from her mouth and then lifted her onto the settee, pushing her skirts up hastily, and undoing the tapes of her gown to loosen its bodice. He paused to lick and nibble at her breasts for a few minutes, before kissing his way down her stomach as one hand gently spread the golden curls that hid her secrets. He nuzzled at them lightly, and then leaned in to lick at her creamy slit.
Letitia abruptly clamped her knees shut on his head, and gave a squeak of surprise. “Mr. Markham—Phillip--what are you about?” she breathed as she attempted to push him away.
“You have done the same for me so sweetly, can I not give you this pleasure as well?” he asked.
“But a gentleman doesn’t do that to a lady, does he?” she asked.
Eynsford was stunned to realize that Morgan had apparently expected his wife to serve him so without reciprocation, and that she had never experienced this particular delight. At the same time, it increased his pleasure to know he would be the first to bring it to her.
“I think a true gentleman does, if he expects a lady to do the same for him, as you have so generously done,” he responded. “And I adore the taste and smell and feel of you, Letitia. This is no hardship, but my very great delight.”
He licked at her again, flicking his tongue against her sensitive bud as he slid one finger, then two into her creaminess, gently spreading and closing them within her rhythmically, as he continue to tease her with his mouth. Letty, after one more muttered protest, gave way to the waves of pleasure he was inducing in her, and leaned back, her fingers threading through his hair, tiny gasps of ecstasy escaping her parted lips. As Phillip felt the first flutters of her orgasm begin, he moved up to kiss her deeply, at the same time easing his impressive erection into Letty’s drenched channel. Seeking the exact spot and pressure that suited her, he drove in slowly, then moved back, as he watched her gaze blur with pleasure. A few more calibrated thrusts brought her to climax, and he allowed himself to tip over into satisfaction as well, feeling somehow intertwined with Letitia in ways that were entirely new to him.
Phillip held Letitia tightly, his breath coming quickly. He reached up to smooth the tendrils of hair from her forehead, and pressed another kiss to her lips, which she responded to eagerly.
“I wish I could carry you up to your room and we could spend all afternoon in your bed, where I would make you feel that many more times,” he murmured.
“That sounds delightful,” said Letitia, her eyes lighting up. She wrapped her arms around her neck and drew his face down to hers. “I don’t see why we should not.”
Phillip gave a shaky chuckle. “Do not tempt me. If you have no concern for your reputation, then I must think of it for both of us. Your servants must suspect that we are intimate, and it would not do for others to know. What if a friend paid a call, or the Bishop of Mainwaring decided to visit?”
Letty gave a gurgle of laughter. “Isobel would be pleased for me, once she got over the shock. She only wants me to be happy, and you make me very happy. As for the bishop—it might solve many of my problems were he to find us in this state.”
“I think there might be better ways to discourage Dr. Wolfe,” said Phillip, reluctantly sitting up. Letty watched with regret as he adjusted his clothing. “But none more enjoyable,” countered Letty. She reached for him again, but he reluctantly held her at bay.
“I know only too well the danger of our assignations, and if you do not mean to be sensible, I must be for both of us,” he said, nonetheless leaning forward to kiss the end of her nose.
“You are too sweet to me,” murmured Letitia.
Feeling guilty that she trusted him so implicitly while he continued to deceive her, Phillip turned his attention to fastening her bodice, though not without raining numerous kisses on the back of her neck as he did so. Finally he stood, gazing down at her as she reclined on the settee, her face still flushed from their recent activity.
“I must go,” he said without conviction.
Letty sighed and sat up. “If you must,” she said. “But do think of me from time to time. I will be waiting for your return.”
Phillip resolutely ignored the urgings of his body, and bowed over Letitia’s hand, reflecting ruefully that he was well served for his haughtiness. Here was a woman who wanted nothing to do with the Marquess of Eynsford, but was happy to befriend a solicitor named Mr. Markham. The thought was sufficiently humbling. And now the tangle would be even harder to unknot; his desire for her clearly overwhelmed his common sense, and he had no idea how he would repair the damage.
When Phillip returned to his curricle, Chisholm noted that the horses should be able to get to Kensington and back without direction, a pleasantry that the Marquess met with a cold stare and silence. The groom, not at all discomposed, grinned and looked straight ahead as they set off at a spanking pace.
Upon returning to his house, Lord Eynsford repaired to his library to write a very proper note to Lady Exencour, informing her that his solicitor knew of Mr. Markham and assured him of that gentleman’s good reputation. “I am sure that Lady Morgan will come to no harm from him,” he ended the letter, “and you may rest assured that she is being treated with proper respect.” He sealed the note with a rueful smile at what Lord Exencour’s reaction might be to the missive, and dispatched it with a footman.
Chapter 24
Isobel was delighted to receive Letitia’s note; she had started to wonder if her friend would ever regain an interest in Society, and was pleased to think of this as the first step in restoring Letitia to the world to which she belonged. It was all very well, Isobel felt, for Letitia to immure herself in Kensington and befriend solicitors while she was in mourning, but it would not do for her to continue on this path. She should take her place in the world and overcome her aversion to gentlemen of fashion.
Isobel, like many another happily married woman, was determined that her friend should know the same joys she did, and she felt that Letitia was especially deserving of them, having suffered so miserably at the hands of Lord Morgan. Although she thought of Lord Eynsford as the perfect husband for Letitia, she was willing to allow that there were other suitable gentlemen available; the only difficulty was getting Letitia to meet them. She sat at her desk, Letty’s note in her hand, pondering the dilemma.
It would not do, of course, for Le
tty to be gadding about London, but surely now that Alfred had been dead more than six months it would be possible for her to make the occasional public appearance. Isobel’s face brightened. She had the perfect solution. She sent to the stables for her carriage and, changed her frivolous morning dress for a delightful afternoon dress of a blue silk, with a deep figured ruffle at the bottom. The weather being a bit cool, she wore over it a long pelisse of white silk twill, with lapels and trim of a dark rose shade. It sported quite six inches of dark green knot work above the pink trim at the hem, and off center buttons from the high waist to the hem. Along with this staggeringly elegant ensemble, Isobel carried a paisley shawl in matching hues and wore a deep poke bonnet.
After the brief carriage ride she swept into Letty’s sitting room to find that lady half asleep on the couch, a book in her lax fingers. Her encounter with Mr. Markham had left her feeling both satisfied and exhausted.
“Goodness, Letty,” Isobel said, “Only see what living in Kensington has led you to! Napping in the middle of the day like...like a dowager!”
“But I am a dowager,” observed Letty complacently. “Or at least a widow, which is very nearly the same thing.”
“You certainly don’t look like one,” said Isobel promptly. “What a fetching dress, my love. Did you make that yourself? I wish I had your skill with the needle; but of course dear Madame Celine would be heart-broken were I to suddenly start stitching my own gowns.”
An Indecent Charade: Letitia's After Dark Regency Romance Page 15
