by Jen YatesNZ
‘Do you think you might ever marry again?’
Fran twisted the stuff of her gown between agitated fingers, then muttered under her breath and smoothed the cloth over her knees.
‘I never used to but—recently—’
‘Recently—you’ve been thinking about it? Who?’
Jassie sat upright and pulled the sheet up under her chin.
‘B—Bart Matthews kissed me last night.’
‘And?’
She’d been right to push them towards each other!
‘And—I liked it! Now you know my most terrible secret so you have to tell me yours. Did Windermere give you a climax?’
Jassie covered her hot cheeks with her hands but grinned openly at Fran.
‘He did that. A few times now. So you see it’s not all bad. In fact that part is—I can’t describe it! But it’s amazing. I couldn’t bear it if that’s all I’m to have. It’d be so unfair.—Oh Fran, what am I to do?’
‘Why don’t you go up to London and talk to Addy? Or better still, talk to Madame Lady Bouvier.’
‘Madame Lady Bouvier. T—talk to a—Madame?’
Jassie felt her eyes growing wider at the thought.
‘Yes. Addy says Lady Bouvier is a true lady. I only met her once but I would have to agree. She seemed really—nice. Addy says she really cares about her girls and their clients and that if any of the—clients—have issues or problems—like Windermere, I guess—she will talk with them and help them. Maybe she can help Windermere?’
Jassie felt something inside her shift; something dark and obscured was suddenly flooded with light.
‘I’m so glad you came to live with me, Fran. You have often shown me the way when I’ve been hopelessly mired in ignorance and fear. Maybe Madame Lady Bouvier can help me! We’ve seen those books in the library but still they don’t really tell us what to do—how to p—pleasure a man—how to love him—physically. If you wanted to seduce Bart Matthews, would you know how?’
Fran stared back at her, blue eyes bright with laughter and cheeks as rosy as apples.
‘Good heavens no! Such subjects did not feature in the curriculum taught by Miss Golding, our governess at Abingdon—nor at Mrs. Rabone’s either!’
Jassie laughed outright.
‘Even trying to imagine that is beyond me!—But I really think it is too bad that we’re expected to go into marriage knowing nothing! I just know Windermere meant what he said. He’ll do all in his power to stay away from me after last night. But I also know that if I knew what to do he wouldn’t be able to refuse me. That’s what happened on Neave Tor. But I more or less fell off the horse and into his arms then and he was still recovering from the shock of what I’d just asked him. If I were to slip into his bed when he was asleep—what would I do then?’
‘Addy would help you with that, I’m sure. But it’s really Lady Bouvier you should talk to about Windermere’s problem. She’s totally discreet.’
‘Thank you, Fran! You’re wonderful. I’ll need a new gown for the ball so I shall go to London and visit La Callista to order the finest she has to offer—and while I’m there I shall pay a visit to a very exclusive bawdy house!’
‘What about all the planning for the ball and the opening day?’
‘I’ll spend this afternoon planning everything with Lady O and travel up to London tomorrow. I can take all the lists with me and can write invitations and deliver them much easier there than here.’
At last Fran’s brow cleared and she allowed herself to be cajoled.
‘Would you mind very much staying and helping Lady O?’ Jassie asked.
Fran nodded.
‘I’ve no love for London. I admit I’d far rather remain here at the Abbey. But will you be all right on your own?’
‘I’ll have Ruby with me—and Windermere.’
Fran made a comical moue.
‘You think?’
‘I intend to make my visit to Lady Bouvier my first priority and then I intend to seduce Windermere. The less people in the house the better. And I shall ensure that the footman, Randall, accompanies us so he will occupy Ruby! She seems to enjoy his company.’
‘Then you’d better get up,’ Fran said in her best school ma’am imitation. ‘Shall I send Ruby to you? The sooner she starts packing the better.’
‘Yes,’ Jassie agreed, bouncing out of bed. ‘Before you came in I was thinking I’d just hibernate here all day. Everything seemed so hopeless. Now—I can’t wait to be in London! Write down your measurements for me and I’ll bring back a ball gown for you too. What color do you want?’
Fran’s eyes went dreamy then she said, ‘Deep rose pink. I had a gown in that color once and I always felt—beautiful—when I wore it.’
Jassie smiled.
‘I can just imagine it with your dark hair and soft coloring. Barton Matthews won’t be able to resist you!’
Fran flushed deeply and hurried from the room.
It was late afternoon of 26th July when Jassie stepped down from the carriage into Berkeley Square in London and sighed with relief for the end of the journey.
‘Here at last, my Lady,’ Ruby said, surreptitiously stretching the kinks from her back. Relief was stark in her maid’s voice and Jassie felt much the same. But any relief she felt was deeply overlaid by the anxiety that gnawed at her stomach as she wondered whether Windermere was at home and how he’d react to her arrival.
Randall appeared at the door and let the steps down, offering Jassie his hand to alight. As her feet met the pavement she drew a letter from her reticule.
‘As soon as you’ve brought in all the luggage, would you deliver this for me please, Randall, and wait for a reply?’
‘Certainly, my Lady,’ Randall responded, with a nod of his head.
Deacon, Windermere’s long serving town butler, met her at the top of the steps.
‘Welcome home, my Lady. We’re all very happy to finally be able to call you Lady Windermere.’
Jassie smiled up at the very correct and formal appearing butler.
‘Please don’t go all formal on me, Deacon. I’m still the same Miss Jassie you caught sliding down the banister during my first season. And I might just do it again. It was fun!’
Deacon’s stern dark brows twitched.
‘I really would prefer not to have to explain to his Lordship how you came to break your neck in the hall, my Lady.’
Jassie grinned openly and tapped his arm with the glove she’d just removed.
‘Don’t be so stuffy, Deacon. I’m sorry I didn’t send word of my arrival but there was no time. So please don’t throw the staff into a fanfare. Any room that is ready will suit me just fine.’
‘Your Ladyship’s rooms have been readied since your engagement was announced. Mrs. Beecham will show you up. If you’ll just wait a moment while I fetch her.’
Randall and another footman had gone ahead with the luggage, Ruby accompanying them. Her skirts had just disappeared into the hallway above when Deacon returned with Mrs. Beecham.
‘My Lady!’ the plump housekeeper cried. ‘We’re so pleased to have you here. And may I congratulate you on your marriage.’
‘Thank you Mrs. Beecham. I pray I’ve not put you out by arriving unexpectedly.’
‘We’ve awaited your arrival on a daily basis ever since the wedding,’ the housekeeper responded with a sunny smile. ‘It’ll be ever so good to have some life in the old place.’
Jassie turned back to Deacon.
‘Is my husband at home, Deacon?’
‘No, my Lady. He went out after luncheon as is his habit and we do not expect him home until quite late. Though if he knows you’re here—’
‘He doesn’t,’ Jassie quickly intercepted. ‘And I’d prefer that you not enlighten him on that point.’
Deacon’s stance stiffened and his eyebrows rose. Her gaze flitting from one to the other of these trusted retainers, she said, ‘Please. I’m sure there is very little you’re unaware of that concerns yo
ur master and so you’ll probably know marriage was not really in his plans. He’ll not be best pleased to find me here and I’d rather apprise him of that fact in my own time—and my own way. I intend for us to have a real marriage and we won’t if it’s left up to him.’
Neither retainer batted an eyelid at her very personal disclosure. They’d become used to her outspoken nature and grown very fond of her during her first season spent in Windermere House under the old countess’s sponsorship. Nor had Jassie ever doubted their loyalty and affection for their master and his mother. They’d do anything to promote the happiness of either.
‘The master has been deeply troubled for many years,’ Mrs. Beecham opined softly as they mounted the wide marble staircase. ‘And if anyone can help him overcome that trouble, it be you, Miss Jassie—my Lady.’
‘Thank you Mrs. Beecham. It’s kind of you to say so. I certainly hope I may live up to your belief in me. I certainly intend to try.’
‘You will, my Lady, you will,’ said the housekeeper as she ushered Jassie into the Countess’s suite. ‘This is your private sitting room and your bedroom is through there. There is a door from your dressing room that connects with the Earl’s rooms.’
Jassie looked into the bedroom to find Ruby already sorting through the trunks and hanging her clothes.
‘Thank you Mrs. Beecham. I would so love a bath if it could be arranged. And if Windermere is not expected home for dinner perhaps Ruby and I could just have a tray up here? No fuss. Just something simple followed by a pot of tea.’
‘Certainly, my Lady.’
Chapter 10
Having donned a soft violet dressing robe over her ivory silk nightgown, Jassie was partaking of a solitary breakfast at the small table in the bow window of her sitting room next morning and happily perusing the invitation from Lady Bouvier to a private luncheon with her at Half Moon Street the following day, when her sitting room door crashed open and Windermere strode in.
‘What the devil are you trying to do to me, Jassie? Do I have to leave the country to keep my distance from you? You know what I’m capable of now. Why do you do this to me? To you?—To us?’
With the last two words his voice had lowered, the dark angry slash of his brows softened and he was almost pleading.
Jassie came abruptly to her feet, not yet used to confronting Windermere in a temper. That she had the awareness to slip the letter into the pocket of her robe she’d marvel at later, for by his very presence she was thrown into a fever of conflicting emotions. There was fear and that she knew and understood but there was also excitement, a wild carousing of her blood that surged through her veins in an agony of anticipation although she couldn’t have said precisely what it was she anticipated.
But she did know what she wanted and that she must ruthlessly suppress that wanting if she was to have any hope of reconciling her husband to her presence in London for at least a few days without him haring off back to Windermere or to another of his estates entirely.
She busied her hands drawing her robe more closely about her body to keep from reaching out to caress the black frown from his forehead, coax laughter into the deep blue eyes, press her lips to that chiseled mouth and feel it move against hers. She wanted, in the worst way, to feel his arms about her, his body pressing urgently into hers, showing how much he desired her—as she desired him.
Smoothing her hands down the all-enveloping robe and then folding them firmly across her abdomen, she tilted her chin and fixed him with a steady glare. Perhaps if she could convince him she was unaffected by his presence he would be also.
‘Both Fran and I are in need of a new gown for the ball and there are very few days in which to accomplish that. I have invitations to the house party which I intend to deliver personally. It’d also be a very good thing if we were to be seen at an event or two while I’m here to allay the gossip that will surely have us estranged as soon as we’re wed. To that end perhaps we could attend the theatre or the opera this evening. That would serve to show people we’re in town and garner some calls and invitations. There’ll be no shortage, I should imagine, as the best hostesses will be falling over each other to be the first to have us attend their affairs since we’re probably the latest on dit. We need only accept a couple, just so we’re seen about together.’
Jassie snapped her mouth shut, astonished at her own inventive thinking. She hadn’t expected Windermere so early in the day nor really thought through what she’d say to him. Her mind had been too taken up with the discussion she meant to have with Madame Lady Bouvier.
Windermere had come to a halt just inside her door and was staring at her as if she’d suddenly sprouted an extra head.
‘You want to go to the theatre? Or the opera?’
‘Well, yes! That surely is not so horrifying? Your mother still keeps her box at the theatre. The season is almost over so there shouldn’t be too much of a crush. It’d look very odd, Rogan, if it became known we were both in town but were never seen together—anywhere.’
As she watched, he seemed to consciously calm himself, flexing his shoulders, sliding his hands into his trouser pockets and rocking back and forth on his heels. Turning abruptly for the door, he said, ‘Very well then. We shall attend the theatre tonight. I’ll see you at dinner.’
He left almost as precipitately as he’d arrived and Jassie found herself staring at the empty doorway and wishing Fran had come with her after all, so she could share her moment of triumph. She was going to the theatre with Windermere, her husband. She could only hope she would be able to focus on the play, whatever it might be. Edmund Keane was sure to be acting and she longed to see what all the fuss over the actor was about.
Hugging herself to keep from flinging her arms out and dancing about the room, she returned to the table and settled herself on the chair. She couldn’t afford to lose her focus now. She must steady her nerves and concentrate on her visit to Madame Lady Bouvier. If there was to be any hope of a normal marriage with Windermere she had to keep her mind on the goal, not on the immediate gratification of all her desires. Desires that were so much more defined and urgent, now she’d finally broken through her husband’s carefully shored up walls of resistance. For while there were aspects of being a wife to Windermere she definitely didn’t want to perpetuate, there were others her body hummed to experience again.
Her thoughts roamed back to their encounter of a few minutes before. Where had he been going? In typical understated Windermere fashion, he’d been dressed for the city. Slate grey pantaloons and waistcoat, snowy white linen and a blue superfine cutaway jacket should have softened the hard masculinity of his body, the harsh angularity of his cheekbones and jaw, and the searing blue of his gaze; the woman-clenching impact of his total maleness.
But it didn’t. Jassie felt again the magnetism as he’d stood just inside the door, every fiber of her being yearning towards him. While her eyes drank in the height, the breadth, the burning glitter of his luminous blue eyes, her heart had stuttered at the obvious tension holding him rigid.
She understood that terrible tension all too well; understood that his desire for her was as deeply entrenched as her own for him. Also, she now understood what her presence did to him; her determination to overstep the bounds he’d set for them, all those years ago. The torment she’d unleashed on Rogan she’d visited equally on herself.
The wonder of it was she’d managed not to launch herself at the cruelly tempting masculine feast that was her husband.
Her husband! Dear God, such exquisite torture after all the years of hiding and suppressing her feelings for him, to finally know the intense gratification of shared sexual freedom and release. She couldn’t countenance the agony of trying to return to that repressed self, of trying to stuff all the Pandora-like ecstasies and horrors back into the darkness and confinement Windermere begged of her.
But she would—for a while longer at least—until she’d talked to Madame Lady Bouvier. Fran had painted the woman as some kind of
counsellor in the realms of bedroom activities and she was pinning her hopes on Fran having it right. Today must be put aside for a visit to the modiste, La Callista, for there was little more than a week until they needed the gowns for the ball. But Madame Lady Bouvier had agreed to see her tomorrow.
And she must send a note round to invite Sheri and Aunt Gussy to dinner and the theatre thereafter. She could only hope they weren’t irrevocably promised for somewhere else tonight. They’d provide the perfect distraction for her and Windermere and maybe they’d be able to get through the evening without destroying one another completely.
Where had his demure Jassie gone? In all the years since she’d emerged from the schoolroom, she’d never been one to flaunt her feminine charms. In fact he’d been intensely grateful for the fact she’d never worn the style of evening gown to display more than it concealed or succumbed to the foolish fad for wearing dampened muslin gowns that clearly exposed the feminine form within. But she was now his wife and, apparently, no longer felt constrained by the need for maidenly modesty. The expanse of ivory skin with the satin sheen of rose petals shown off by the low décolletage of the bronze silk gown the exact shade of her eyes, was alluring.
More than alluring. Mesmerizing. Notwithstanding they were seated in a box at the theatre with more eyes trained on them than he cared to contemplate, he wanted to touch that skin, experience the silkiness of it, not only with his fingers but with his mouth. He wanted, in the worst way, to expose the soft peach nipples he knew lurked just below the neckline of the gown that was beaded with crystals reflecting the light of a thousand candles.
Devil take it! Where was Wolverton? And Baxendene? They’d both maintained they’d attend the theatre tonight for the express purpose of making their bow to his wife. He leant forward to scan the milling patrons below, wishing himself anywhere but trapped in this box with Jassie. Or so he told himself. Parts of him were very pleased indeed and he couldn’t help wondering how long his mind could hold out over the demands of his body.
