by Brianna York
Minerva cocked her head to one side. “I have no complaints. It was lovely to see you enjoying yourself so thoroughly.”
Rob dipped his head to kiss her mouth gently, his tongue teasing along her full lower lip for a moment as he felt his body grow ready again. He wondered a bit at himself since he would usually not feel the need for sex again so soon. He felt Rosy skirting along the edge of his thoughts. She was, of course, the reason for all of this. He willed himself to forget her virginal wantonness and enjoy the pleasure of the skilled and familiar woman he was currently melded to both internally and externally. He felt Minerva’s eyes on his face as he battled with himself and opened his mouth to apologize again.
She reached up with gentle fingers and stopped the words before they could come. “There is no need to apologize again. I am not angry that she is here with us as we lay here.” She smiled at him fondly, cupping his cheek in her hand. “Use me as you would use her. Make me into what is in your thoughts.”
The generosity of this offer should have appalled Rob but he had been forcing Rosy from his thoughts for so many days now that he found it impossible to resist such temptation any longer. He allowed his thoughts to carry him back to the hour before, to soft young breasts eagerly pressed into his hands, the roughness of untrained open-mouthed kisses and taut and trembling flesh that no other man had known. He allowed Minerva’s pliant body to distract him from the lithe and quicksilver presence of a woman that his heart wished to possess but his mind wished to set free.
Minerva allowed the pleasure of Rob’s intensity roll over as they coupled this second time. There was something immensely wonderful about playacting the part of a woman she only knew a smattering of facts about and she rose to the challenge as she would a new part on the stage. She remembered her first few times in bed with a man and brought those memories with her as Rob made love to the woman who had driven him to such frustration before he made his way into her bed. This time, frustration set aside, Rob was as thoughtful as ever, but the tenderness he rained upon her body made her eyes wet with emotion. She wished that she had learned about the art of physical pleasure from a man who had loved her as Rob so clearly loved the woman he could not couple with tonight.
Chapter Eleven
Rosy lay in bed feeling very dispirited. She ached with a thousand desires that she could not attend to. She wished to go for a long hard ride on her horse but the day had dawned drizzly and miserable and not at all fit for riding. She longed to go back to sleep but a pounding headache had awoken her as the first light of dawn broke. She wished that she did not feel so helpless and confused. Most of all she ached for Rob, both physically and emotionally. The physical portion of the trouble she could have remedied but she lacked the gumption to do so. Beyond that, somehow doing so would feel like sullying the memory of Rob the night before and she wished to keep a hold of those moments for as long as possible. She wanted to feel the touch of his hands on her throbbing aches, not hers. The emotional aspect of her distress could not be easily remedied as she had more questions than answers, and no idea what he might do next.
Perhaps the only joy she had gotten from the rest of the evening after Rob left was Cecily’s intense fury with her for removing Rob from the dance floor and somehow causing him to leave the ball so abruptly. Rosy felt as if she were engaged in some elaborate game of chess with the other girl and she had made numerous moves last night that should cripple Cecily’s efforts to lock Rob check and mate into marriage.
“I will convince him to marry me,” she whispered aloud as the first rays of morning light crept into the room. “I shall not accept any other outcome.” She huddled into a small ball beneath the sheets and watched the world grow light as she re-lived Rob’s kisses for the thousandth time. She thought of the perfection with which his body pressed against hers and the way that they had seemed to fold into each other’s angles and curves perfectly. She thought about the smell of his cologne and the heady rush of feeling caused by his hands cupping her breasts. Most of all she thought about the tantalizing pressure of his velvety, hard flesh pressed against hers and longed intensely for the completion that she had been denied.
Her inward contemplations passed the hour or so until Hester knocked gently and entered the room with chocolate and hot water for washing. “You are up early,” the other woman observed mildly as she went about her morning routine. “Are you feeling poorly?”
Rosy shook her head and took a sip of her chocolate. “I just did not sleep very well,” she answered honestly. How to summarize any of what had come to pass the night before? And why should she confess such a dangerous thing to her maid? She chided herself for even contemplating doing so and held her tongue.
Hester glanced at her mistress from beneath her lowered lashes, pretending to be busy with her work. She knew well the look of the lovesick. Servant gossip had told her who was to blame for Rosy’s pallor this morning. She sighed inwardly and hoped that the man would come to his senses soon. Her poor mistress could not take much more of this.
“Shall I leave you and let you sleep some more?” Hester asked kindly.
Rosy shook her head and rose from the bed. She padded on bare feet to sit before her looking glass and allow Hester to begin her ministrations. “I shall not be able to. Might as well join the living now that I am up.” Her wan effort at a joke made Hester smile at her in the mirror as she began to brush out Rosy’s long dark hair.
“This arrived moments ago,” Hester said, pausing in her work for a moment. She held out a crisply folded piece of paper to Rosy.
Frowning a bit, Rosy took the paper. She turned it over and felt a thrill of trepidation when she saw Rob’s seal on it. She broke the seal with trembling fingers.
Rosy,
Will you allow me to call on you tomorrow?”
Rob
Rosy dropped the note on her dressing table and looked out the window. The day was turning fine now and a bit of sun was gilding the vines growing outside her window and glistening in the water of the fountain in the garden. She tried to still her racing thoughts and draw tranquility from the peace of the scene before her. What on earth could he want? Surely he would not ask to call on her simply to torment her further? She closed her eyes and sought in vain for some peace of mind. The life of an aging spinster was looking more and more appealing every day.
“I hope there is nothing wrong?” Hester said with some concern.
Rosy sighed. “I honestly do not know what this will mean for me, Hester,” she said softly. “We shall have to wait for tomorrow to find out if the Earl is going to be bearer of happy or sad tidings.”
“Ah, I see,” Hester said amiably, although she really did not see. Why must the fancy lot make everything so very difficult? She often thought that it was much more agreeable to be allowed the freedom to live her own small and simple life as a servant. While her income might be small and her prospects for marriage limited, she need not marry if she did not wish to. She winged a silent thank you to the heavens, then dismissed all but the task of dressing her mistress’ hair from her mind.
“Bring me some foolscap, if you please Hester,” Rosy said to her abigail after her hair was put up. “I should reply to this note that the Earl has sent me.”
Hester glanced at her mistress in the mirror. She wished that she might see some sign that Rosy felt somehow other than worried and fatigued with regard to the note. All she saw was the inward-turning look in her eyes and the tension pressing her lips into a thin line. She sighed and turned away to do as she was told.
Rosy pondered about what to say in reply to Rob while Hester was away fetching foolscap and ink. Should she tell him that he could not call on her? Should she postpone the meeting a few days? To what end though? No, she finally thought. It would not do to postpone. She would have to hear him out eventually. Better sooner rather than later. She cupped her chin in her hands and blew out a gusty sigh between her pursed lips. The only consolation she could keep in her mind while she
waited to hear what Rob had to say to her tomorrow was that the Season was nearly over. In a week’s time she would be safely tucked away in the country with nothing to worry about save her daily ride on Nyx and which book to read for the rest of the afternoon.
“Here, My Lady,” Hester said as she made her way back into the room. She brought the neat square of expensive paper to her mistress and placed quill and ink on the dressing table. “Is there anything else that I can get for you?”
“No, thank you Hester,” Rosy said quietly, her eyes trained down at the blank sheet of paper. “Just wait one moment if you please while I jot down this note.” She heard Hester moving about the room tidying up while she composed her thoughts. She supposed that she should think through what to say carefully but she suddenly felt a sense of inevitability drop over her.
Earl Coulthurst,
I shall expect you at 11 o’clock tomorrow. Please be on time. Do not leave me in suspense.
Rosalind Fenton
She realized that she was replying to his informal note with a stilted reply. She considered writing the note again without using Rob’s formal title, but then decided against it. Her mother would be livid if she saw any written note in Rosy’s hand that was as informal as the one that Rob had seen fit to send to her. Thinking of her mother reminded her that she would have to make her mother aware that Rob was going to call the next day. She stifled yet another sigh and turned on the stool in front of her cheval glass.
“Hester,” Rosy said, holding the note she had composed pinched between her first two fingers. “Please seal this and send it along to the Earl of Coulthurst’s address.”
“Yes, My Lady,” Hester said dutifully. She smiled at Rosy for a moment as she took the note. “I am sure all will turn out for the best.”
Rosy smiled at her abigail with fondness. “I hope that you are right, Hester.” She pressed the other young woman’s hand for a moment between her own as she passed her the note. She really was grateful to the servant for all of her quiet support. There was only so much that she could say to anyone about what she was feeling with regard to Rob or the Viscount. She felt as if her whole life had been turned upside down due to the two men in the past few weeks. She was not sure that it had all been for the best, and yet she truly had no regrets.
The door closed behind Hester and Rosy got slowly to her feet. She smoothed her skirts and adjusted the puffed sleeves of her gown. She looked at her reflection in the mirror, pleased with what she saw. Despite the circles beneath her eyes and the slightly drawn set to her face, she was pleased to see that her cheeks were still touched with a blush of health and her dark brown hair was shiny. Her emotions felt raw and bruised but in strange contrast, her body felt alive with sensations. She was very conscious of the weight of her skirts brushing against her legs and the tickle of curls of her hair on her neck. Her first experience of intimacy had made her appreciate her body and what pleasure it could provide her. She realized it was as if her body were an instrument she was just learning to play. She felt a small blush rise to her cheeks as she thought that she should very much like to have more practice.
“All things in due time,” she said aloud to herself. She turned away from the looking glass and descended to the breakfast room. She was not truly hungry but she supposed that she should try and eat something. Perhaps her mother would still be breaking her fast and she could let her know about Rob’s request to call on her.
When she entered the breakfast room, she found her mother sipping at her tea and picking at a plate of food on the table. Rosy greeted her and went to the sideboard. She considered a few options and finally settled on a breakfast pastry and her own cup of tea.
“How are you this morning?” her mother asked, a small frown of worry between her brows. “You look a bit peaked.”
Rosy smiled wanly. “I feel a bit peaked.”
“Have you taken ill, my dear?” Her mother asked, worry plain in her expression.
“No, no,” Rosy assured her quickly. “Nothing like that. I just slept poorly.”
Mary Fenton relaxed somewhat and took another sip of her tea. “That is far preferable to being ill in any case. Bad dreams?”
Rosy shook her head. “Not really. Just have had many things to think about of late. Sleep eludes me sometimes for thinking so hard.”
Mary nodded sagely. “You have been very busy as well. It will do us all some good to go to the country and recuperate.”
“Indeed,” Rosy agreed. She gathered herself. Nothing for it but to spit it out.” Mother, I have had a note from the Earl Coulthurst. He wishes to call on me tomorrow.”
Mary set her tea cup down on the saucer with a loud chink. “Oh Rosy! That is wonderful news! A bit unexpected I must say, but very welcome news.”
Rosy held up a hand to her mother. “I am not at all certain that congratulations are in order, Mother. The Earl and I exchanged a few angry words in the park a few days ago. Perhaps he just wishes to pay a call to apologize.”
Mary Fenton looked at her daughter skeptically. “Perhaps. He might just as well write to you if that were the case, my dear. Well anyway,” she waved a hand dismissively. “We shall receive him and hope for the best. Imagine being engaged this late in the Season! It is such fortunate timing as we could have all summer to plan the wedding!”
Rosy closed her eyes. “I can see how that would be helpful, yes.”
Her mother clapped her hands with pleasure. “Even if that is not the Earl’s intentions for his call on you tomorrow, you cannot take this visit as anything but a sign of his interest in you. I confess I had long hoped that at least one of the young men amongst our family friends would offer for you. It is ever so nice to have a son-in-law that one has known since they were in leading strings.”
Rosy smiled in spite of herself at her mother’s enthusiasm. “I have long held a similar wish, Mother,” she replied with honesty. At one point when she had been much younger, she had wished and hoped that Matthew might offer for her. She had thought of herself as Duchess Dunsaney and been very excited about the outlandish wedding she would have. As she had grown older, she had realized that Matthew and she would never suit.
Her feelings for Rob had arrived on quiet feet, sneaking into her heart almost without her realizing it. Rob was not cut from the same cloth as Matthew, who had a personality to match his physical presence and could attract the attention of the entire room simply by stepping into it. Rob was more the type to watch events unfold from the sidelines, waiting to see when and if he might be of use and happy simply to observe if his presence was not called for. This aspect of his nature had caused her not to notice at first how handsome and clever he was. While she had been worshipping the grandiosity that was Matthew, she had overlooked the quiet strength and intelligence that defined Rob. It almost seemed laughable to her now that she could ever have wanted to catch Matthew’s eye. She was not fond enough of attention to wish to gather so much of it simply through the presence of her husband. She, like Rob, rather enjoyed watching events from the safety of the fringes of a crowd. She and Rob also shared a sense that artifice was a wasted effort and that conversation and intimacy was better served by a casual regard for the affectations of society. Neither of them liked to skirt the point of an issue nor to pretend to feel in a manner they truly did not. Her wayward thoughts turned again to what had come to pass the night before and she felt her face grow warm. Clearly there was more than enough desire between them to satisfy that portion of the marriage contract.
“Are you attending to what I am saying, Rosalind?”
Rosy glanced up at her mother, hoping that her cheeks were not on fire with the blush that her thoughts had just caused. “I am sorry, Mother. I confess, I was woolgathering.”
Her mother smiled fondly at her. “I suppose that is to be expected. I remember when I was first being courted by your father. I was always slipping into my daydreams.”
Rosy felt her blush grow more intense and averted her eyes again,
staring into her tea cup. “Mother,” she said weakly. “I am not being courted by the Earl as of yet.”
Her mother chuckled. “Well after tomorrow, I am quite sure that you shall be.”
∞ ∞ ∞
Cecily sipped her chocolate and skimmed the gossip section of the paper. She had seen her own name in print enough times this Season to make it worth checking each day to see if the columnists had kept others abreast of her most recent doings. She knew on a practical level that such exposure was good for her ambition to marry well and soon but on a personal level it made her as proud as a peacock to know that she was the reigning Incomparable of this Season. Who would have thought that her beauty alone would be enough to make her the topic of so much interest amongst the members of the ton? She spotted her name and spread the pages flat so that she might read them more easily.
Miss Cecily Beaumont was a vision last night at Duke Norwood’s ball. All the young men were desperate to dance with her. She shared what appeared to be an intimate dance and conversation with the Earl Coulthurst early in the evening and tongues were wagging. Sadly, the Earl left the ball shortly thereafter and did not return.
Cecily felt her heart thudding in her chest as anger coursed through her. She knew exactly why the Earl had left. It had not been her fault, as the columnist seemed to want to intimate. It had been Rosalind Fenton’s fault. She slapped her hand down on the newspaper and shoved it away from her in irritation. She spilled some of her chocolate on her dressing table but ignored the puddle. Her abigail could clean it up later. Pressing herself away from the dressing table, she rose and paced back and forth in the middle of her room.
What to do to get the Earl’s attention back? It seemed that he did not want to marry Rosalind, and yet she was so besotted with him that she was apparently willing to ruin the chances of any other girl having him. Cecily felt her cheeks grow hot with anger and exertion and willed herself to calm down. She sat down on her bed with a thump and fanned herself with one elegant hand. Clearly Rosalind was so spoiled and privileged that she could not understand Cecily’s plight in life.
