Her Saving Grace

by Catherine Winchester

  She met his eyes in the mirror and he could see the pain etched on her features.

  He stepped up behind her and took the brush from her hand, carefully taking over from her and brushing her hair. It wasn’t much but then, there wasn’t much that he could do for her, other than support her.

  He worked slowly and methodically, hoping that the repetitive action might lull her and after a few minutes, he could see her relaxing and her eyes closed as she released a contented sigh.

  “Lilly used to do this for me when I was a girl,” she said, a small smile appearing on her lips. “One hundred strokes every night and if I was good, sometimes as much as two hundred.”

  “You enjoy it then?” he asked.

  “Very much, it’s very soothing.”

  “Well, I hope you’re keeping count, because I didn’t know I was supposed to.”

  “For once, I’m not, I’m just enjoying it.”

  He continued until she opened her eyes and reached back to catch his hand. Turning on the stool, she took the brush from him, placing it on the dressing table, then she got to her feet and stretched up to place a sensuous kiss on his lips.

  He was a little upset that she pulled away before he could deepen the kiss but she remained pressed against him and as he opened his eyes, she gazed up at him with an affectionate smile.

  “I love you,” she said.

  His answering grin was so wide, that he felt he must look quite idiotic but he didn’t seem to care. He held her to him with such force that her feet left the ground and as he carried her over to the bed, he was very aware of her breasts, which were pressed against his chest.

  His lips claimed hers and there was no question of being gentle. Damaris returned his ardour but as he lowered her to the bed, he just had enough presence of mind to pull away for a moment before his baser instincts, which were demanding he make her his, took over completely.

  “Marry me, Mari,” he said.

  She looked a little startled by his words but not frightened, and it only took a moment for her smile to return.

  “Yes.”

  “You will marry me?” he almost couldn’t believe that after dancing around their feelings for so long, she had acquiesced so easily.

  “Yes,” she repeated.

  “Say it.”

  “I will marry you,” she laughed.

  Chapter Twenty Three

  When he thought back on this night, he would be glad that she wasn’t an innocent in the marriage bed because that first time, he seemed incapable of being gentle. She seemed to welcome his passion however, pulling her nightgown up and placing him at her entrance. He pushed inside her with little finesse but her hips matched his pace, rising from the bed to meet each thrust.

  He came quickly and collapsed on top of her, breathing heavily. Her arms encircled him and she stroked his back with long, languid strokes.

  When he had recovered enough, he raised himself up on his forearms and looked down at her.

  “I’m sorry.”

  She frowned. “What for?”

  “Being selfish. I couldn’t help it, I just wanted you so badly.”

  “I wanted you too,” she assured him, still seeming confused.

  “I know, but I cared only for my own pleasure. Trust me, it will be better next time.”

  “It gets better than that?” she asked.

  He realised that her husband obviously hadn’t introduced her to the art of making love. He didn’t really understand men who climbed on, thrust, then climbed off, but he also felt absurdly pleased that he would get to be the one to teach her.

  “Oh, Mari,” he said with a smirk. “It gets a whole lot better than that.”

  Something about his words or expression relaxed her and she smiled back. “You’re just saying that so we have an excuse to do it again.”

  “Trust me,” he said theatrically. “When I’m through with you, I won’t need excuses; you’ll be begging to get me back in your bed.”

  She laughed at his absurd overconfidence and he stole a kiss, before pulling out of her. They discarded their nightgowns, then he pulled the covers back and climbed into bed, gathering her in his arms.

  “So, when can I expect this demonstration that will turn me into a wanton woman?” she teased.

  “Usually I would need a longer rest but if you keep talking about being a wanton woman, I might just be ready in record time.”

  She raised her head and gave him a positively coquettish look. “Promises, promises.”

  He turned her onto her back with such speed that she cried out in shock, laughing as her initial surprise faded. When she looked into his eyes though, the look she saw there soon quelled her merriment, although it ratcheted her excitement up a few notches.

  He leaned down and began by kissing her neck, slowly trailing his kisses down to her breasts, teasing her nipples with his teeth and tongue, and then moving lower still. By the time he settled between her thighs and kissed her bud, she was half wild with desire, begging for a release that she didn’t yet understand but he nonetheless gave to her. As her orgasm crashed over her, she cried his name, causing his erection to throb painfully. He knew that she might be overstimulated however, so he was happy to wait for his own release.

  “I need you,” she said, grabbing a handful of his hair and pulling.

  He crawled back up her body and kissed her but she clearly had other ideas, reaching between them and placing him at her entrance.

  “I need you inside me,” she clarified, and he didn’t need asking twice.

  ***

  It was only sheer good luck that a commotion in the street the following morning, awoke them before the servants could.

  Damaris reached over him for his pocket watch on the bedside table. There was just enough light coming around the edges of the curtains for her to see by.

  “How long?” he asked through closed eyes.

  “That depends, are we playing it safe or living dangerously?” she teased.

  “The latter, definitely.”

  “Then, twenty two minutes.”

  “Oh, that’s not nearly long enough… and oddly accurate,” he complained, finally opening his eyes. “How do you feel?”

  “Well I’m not about to berate you for taking advantage of me, if that’s what you mean?”

  “Well… only partly. Mostly I mean, are you happy; do you have any regrets?”

  She smiled. “None, and my answer is still ‘yes’.”

  “Good.”

  She leaned forward and kissed him. “Now, as pleasurable as last night was, I actually don’t like living dangerously, so please don’t be upset if I leave now.”

  “Oh, showing concern for my feelings,” he teased. “Careful, Mari, or people might start to think that you care.”

  “I think they might get that impression when we marry, don’t you?”

  He pretended to consider her point for a moment, then shrugged. “Well, they’ll probably say I’m marrying you for your money.”

  “You’re already wealthy.”

  “But you can never have too much money, at least in some people’s eyes.”

  Damaris gave a long-suffering sigh. “Then I suppose there is just no choice, we shall have to be dreadfully inappropriate in public.”

  “Good idea,” he agreed. “Then people are left under no illusions that I’m only interested in your body.”

  She swatted his shoulder. “You are a very bad man!”

  “Me?” he sounded offended. “You were the one demanding a repeat performance at gone midnight.”

  “And you were the one who was willing to perform his duties three times!”

  They shared another kiss.

  “And don’t think I don’t know that you are just trying to distract me and keep me here,” she gently berated him.

  “What can I say? I never want to let you go.”

  “Or you want us to be caught, so that we must marry at the earliest opportunity.”

  “Toda
y?” he asked. “We are in London, and obtaining a Special License will only take a few hours.”

  “That would be lovely,” she sounded wistful. “Alas, I’m also rather fond of your family and as much as I dread the pomp and circumstance of a Society wedding, they would be hurt if they couldn’t attend.”

  “Very well, you win,” he acquiesced. “But I’m having the banns read this Sunday and we are marrying three weeks on Monday.”

  “When did you become so bossy?” she demanded.

  “I think it was about the same time that you accepted my proposal.”

  “Ah, so I’m responsible for this hubris, am I.”

  “Absolutely.” He smiled. “And now, since my spotless reputation will surely be tarnished should you be discovered in here, I must ask you to leave.”

  She narrowed her eyes but her good humour rather spoilt her scowl. Nonetheless, he was right and she slipped from beneath the covers and pulled her nightdress on.

  “I’ll see you soon,” she said, as she blew him a kiss from the doorway.

  ***

  After breakfast, they all three headed out for a walk along Piccadilly, as Annabelle wanted to visit her favourite modiste and order some gowns for their next, longer trip to London, as well as pick up some interesting ribbon and lace that her lady’s maid could make use of.

  Neither Damaris nor Nathaniel much enjoyed shopping for clothes, so while Annabelle was being measured and choosing designs and patterns, they ventured out to peruse the surrounding shops. He was surprised to learn that she enjoyed browsing, but she explained that these shops carried items from all over the Empire, and there were some fascinating things to see.

  The strangest and perhaps the best collection was in the Burlington Arcade on Bond Street, which was lined with shops. Among others, it had a pet shop, a watchmaker, a stick seller, cabinet-makers, tobacconists, an ivory turner, a goldsmith, a few milliners, a glass manufacturer, an optician, a bookseller, a stationer, a music seller, a wine and spirits merchant, and an engraver.

  They went into the pet shop first, which as well as pedigree dogs for well-to-do ladies (mostly small breeds) also had some exotic animals.

  A wall of cages on the right side of the shop housed some of the most colourful birds that Nate had ever seen, although he felt sorry that animals built to soar, were being kept locked in small cages.

  The puppies were housed in crates below the bird cages. In the middle of the shop sat shelves of supplies, such as food, treats, bedding, collars and grooming apparatus, while the far wall had larger cages and the more exotic animals. There was a tiger and two leopard cubs, four small monkeys and many animals that Nate couldn’t name.

  “What are they?” he asked, mostly rhetorically.

  “That’s a wombat,” she explained, pointing. “These are sloths, that one with the big ears is a fennec fox, the monkeys are Capuchin and those fist sized creatures with what looks like a shell, are Armadillos.”

  “How do you know all that?” he asked.

  “Etchings in nature books mostly,” she explained. “Although I have seen an adult wombat before, preserved and displayed in a museum.”

  “Do people really keep wild animals as pets?”

  “They do,” she assured him, although her tone said that she disapproved of the practice. “Most of these aren’t large enough to cause much injury but keeping big cats is madness.”

  They continued shopping and Damaris bought a few trinkets, while Nathaniel picked up a few items he thought his mother and sister would like.

  They returned to the modiste to collect Annabelle, then browsed a little longer, stopping into a tea shop for refreshments and a snack, then Damaris spotted a bookseller and spent a while choosing some books. As well as factual titles, which were all she had been reading recently, she also browsed the fiction section, choosing a few novels that she liked the sound of.

  They returned home mid-afternoon and were surprised to realise that they had visitors. Not expecting to entertain while in London, they hadn’t brought the butler, hence it was a rather flustered footman who told them that His Grace, the Duke of Wellington; the Lord Chief Justice of the King's Bench, Baron Tenterden, Lord Abbott, and the Lord Chancellor, Lord Scott, Earl of Eldon, were awaiting them in the parlour.

  Annabelle took Damaris’ purchases for her and after sharing a worried look, Damaris and Nathaniel headed into the parlour.

  Wellington stepped forward as they entered and made the introductions.

  “Do not look so fearful,” he said, taking her hands and guiding her to a sofa. “I confess that last night, I was ready to bay for blood but after conferring with these esteemed gentlemen, we are unable to pursue charges of treason at this time.

  “Unable to?” she asked.

  “Charges for High Treason must be brought within three years,” Lord Baron Tenterden explained. “We have discussed all the exceptions to this but unless we uncover a plot to assassinate the King, it is hopeless. Even supposing that we were able to bring charges, the law states that we must have two witnesses at trial and unfortunately, we are only sure of one traitor. If he gave us the names of those involved, we may possibly be able to ‘turn’ another one of them to act at witness for the King but given the three year rule, it is a moot point.”

  From being fearful of torture and a brutal death sentence for her brother, Damaris now felt rather worried that they would escape justice completely.

  “Have you discussed how to proceed?” Nathaniel asked.

  “We have,” Wellington assured her. “There is of course the murder to be prosecuted, and no doubt other crimes were committed while they were engaged in espionage. Depending on the role each man played, we believe that we can ensure justice, albeit limited. To that end, we have arrested your brother and detained his wife,”

  “You arrested Christopher!”

  “Yes. Runners were dispatched a few hours ago and your brother is likely in the Tower as we speak.”

  “The Tower of London!” Given its rather gruesome history and the fact that her brother hadn’t been taken to a normal prison, she felt that the trace of hysteria in her voice was not untoward.

  “Rest assured, your brother will be fine. We ordered him to be detained there so that we could best keep his imprisonment a secret; we don’t want his accomplices fleeing before we have their names.”

  “Can I see him?” she asked, not believing that he wouldn’t be harmed.

  “I’m afraid not, and I must ask you not to tell anyone of his detainment.”

  “And if he gives you a confession?” Nathaniel asked.

  “We will arrest those he names and they will proceed to trial.”

  As they discussed the legal proceedings, Damaris felt as if she was listening to the conversation from a great distance, and her mind was assaulted with images of her brother being beaten (if not tortured) for a confession.

  Yes, he had been involved with the murder of her father but no matter what he had done, Charles Howard was not a punitive man. He believed in reform and would not wish to see his son suffer, under any circumstances.

  There were 220 crimes that were punishable by death and no matter how minor the crimes with which Christopher might be charged, given that he was a traitor, he would likely not be shown the leniency that many were.

  His only chance was to be tried by his peers, who were usually lenient with other aristocrats.

  “Can he be tried in the House of Lords?” she asked, unknowingly interrupting Wellington.

  Wellington looked to Lord Abbott, who answered her question.

  “Unfortunately not. While of noble ancestry, neither your father nor your brother is a peer of the realm. He must be tried by the Court of Assizes.”

  As Lord Chief Justice, Abbott was head of that court. “Can I beg you to show leniency to him? Flog him, banish him, imprison him if you must but please, do not kill him.”

  Abbott rolled his eyes and she could guess his thoughts, probably that women wer
e too emotional to be involved in justice.

  Although she felt stunned, she got to her feet.

  “Lord Abbott, I realise that you hold the highest office in our judiciary and I respect that. In return, I am asking that you respect my knowledge of my family. My father was a Christian man who believed in repentance and the idea of rehabilitation. He would not have wished his son to be sentenced to death and since I uncovered his crimes, I feel responsible for any punishment he receives. I also know my brother and he is as stubborn as a mule; fear and violence will break him eventually but not quickly.” That was a lie, he would probably talk after one night, but she hoped that they couldn’t see her deception. “If you will agree to show him leniency, I will make certain that my brother confesses and implicates the others who were involved.”

  Abbott looked to the other two men.

  Lord Scott remained silent but Wellington gave a small nod. “Lady Wellesley was well regarded by my cousin and her father spoke often of her character. In recent years, she has also made something of a name for herself in the sciences and is respected by many learned gentlemen. She does not give her word lightly.”

  Lord Abbott looked indecisive. “Might we confer for a few minutes?” Although phrased as a question, it wasn’t.

  “Of course.” Damaris got to her feet. “Ring the bell for a servant when you have decided.”

  She and Nathaniel left the room and went to a smaller drawing room opposite, and Damaris went to the window, although she saw little of the street below.

  “Are you sure about this, Mari?” Nathaniel asked. “If they do agree to leniency, your brother might never be brought to justice.”

  “What is justice?” she asked. “Perhaps knowing how and why will give me peace.”

  “You don’t really believe that?”

  “No, I don’t. I want to claw his eyes out and make him suffer, like I have suffered, but that won’t bring my father back and as appealing as the idea of his pain is to me, resorting to violence would make me no better than he.”

  “You will never be like him.”