Dare to Kiss

by Beverley, Jo

"I do hope so, Mistress Kingsley. I will do my utmost to make him happy. I hope you can persuade John of that."

  "The proof of that pudding will be in the eating, ma'am. And speaking of pudding, will there be any kind of wedding feast on Christmas Day?"

  "Heavens, I've no idea. I'll ask Sir Benjamin."

  Together they decided that the feast would be only for the family, and would consist of traditional Christmas fare.

  Lily edged carefully into taking control of the house, but she was determined on some changes immediately. She had a fire built and maintained in the hall and hired two extra servants from the village. One was a maid for the schoolroom to tend the fire there and fetch and carry. The other was an extra maid to help Leah and Becky with keeping up the house as it should be.

  She'd asked Ben's advice before hiring, but he'd told her to ask Mistress Kingsley. "Be careful of local politics, my dear. They can be as ferocious as anything at Westminster."

  The result was that one of Mistress Kingsley's nieces came to work in the schoolroom, and Ruth, a younger sister of Leah and Becky, became a house maid. Lily had worried that other families might resent this, but when she ventured into the village to take some mending to the local seamstress, she had the impression that everyone thought her hiring just as it should be.

  Local politics. Something she'd never had to worry about before.

  She dined every day with Ben, and now they talked easily of everything under the sun. Despite his quiet life, he was very well informed from newspapers, magazines, and letters from correspondents, some in foreign lands.

  When she'd realized how informed he was, she'd worried that he might have read something about her scandal, but clearly he ignored social gossip. His interest was in political affairs, and even more in botany and ingenious new machines.

  One day he showed her a new acquisition -- a box that opened to produce a plant that appeared to grow and bloom.

  "How is that done?" she asked.

  "Clockwork, but entertaining, don't you think? I asked a correspondent for advice. I thought to give it to the children for Christmas."

  "They'll fight over it," she had to say. "Better to keep it here in your library and allow them to enjoy it now and then as a treat."

  "If you think that best. You must tell me what they would like."

  She made up a list of modest items, for she feared he'd be too generous if left to his own devices. She'd not have her children spoiled, even if they were to grow up here in comfort and privilege. She frequently paused in her busy days to give thanks and pray that nothing would happen to spoil everything.

  Every evening they sat together in his library, he reading and she either reading or sewing. She found it delightful, but it worried her that he never tried to repeat his kiss. He probably thought that the decent thing to do, but what if he still thought her repulsed?

  So one evening, when she rose to leave and he rose, too, she went to him, touched his cheek again, and kissed him again. His arms came around her, holding her tight. She embraced him the same way. "Oh, this is so lovely."

  "It is?" he asked.

  "To be held like this. So strongly. To know that you are strong, that you will take care of me."

  He looked into her eyes. "I will, Lily. Trust me."

  "I do, more than you can know."

  I wish I were worthy of your trust.

  He stroked her cheek. "Why do you look sad, my dear?"

  "Perhaps I don't trust fate."

  "I will protect you even against fate."

  She kissed him again. As his lips were still parted she kissed the lower one, playing on it a little. She felt him inhale and pushed him gently back into his chair. She sat on his lap.

  "We're soon to be wed, Ben. Should we not become better acquainted?"

  She kissed his ear, licked it, nibbled at his lobe. He began to suck in breaths. She pulled up her skirts, took his hand and put it on her thigh. He tightened it there.

  "Touch me, Ben, touch me. I long for your touch..."

  He did, stroking and squeezing her thigh as she scattered kisses around his face and neck. She'd always been quick to heat, to her disaster, but this was her husband to be. She spread her legs, opening herself completely to him. When he hesitated, she guided his hand and pressed it there, arching at that touch.

  He pressed and circled and then, blessed relief, plunged his fingers into her, driving into her, meeting her urgent thrusts. She buried her face in his neck, mewling her desperate, agonizing need. He was kissing her now, neck, hair, gasping as wildly as she, bucking beneath her.

  Her relief came in violent, arching spasm, blanking her mind in flaming darkness until she returned, limp and sweaty in his arms. He was still gasping for breath. A touch told her he was still hard. Huge and hard.

  She undid his breeches, ignoring feeble protests, and released him. She positioned herself and slowly slid down onto him, filling her tender flesh with hot, hard heat.

  "Oh, God, oh God, oh God..." She couldn't seem to stop saying it, and it was a devout prayer. It had been so long.

  He groaned as if trying to control himself. She rose up and destroyed his restraint, watching him as he shattered. She loved this almost as much as her own ecstasy. Loved it more, because she loved him, and loved this, as passion swept over her again.

  Still breathing deeply, she leaned to kiss his brow. "My dear, sweet Ben."

  His eyes fluttered open. "My dear, sweet Lily... Though sweet is not quite the word."

  She grinned. "Can a Lily be hot?"

  "Clearly it can," he said, stroking her, grinning back, unconscious of his mouth in this moment. "There's the scarlet turkscap, which is quite fiery, and I've heard of a tiger lily in the east. I must try to obtain some bulbs to treasure in our garden."

  "Our garden. I like that."

  "Our paradise. Are you too good to be true?"

  She flinched, but hid it in a playful kiss. "Probably. Aren't we all?"

  "Perhaps. We're certainly not good. We should have waited."

  "Yes, but we didn't. You know the truth now, my darling -- I'm a lusty woman. I will be demanding."

  He closed his eyes again. "I am a very lucky man."

  When Lily left him to go upstairs, she paused in the corridor outside her room to go over what had happened. She hadn't planned that. She'd planned a kiss, yes, in order to reassure herself that all was well, but not the rest.

  She leaned against the wall.

  She'd not expected that. She'd not expected her desire to flare so violently, though she should have. She'd controlled herself so fiercely it had built beyond reason.

  She'd not expected him to satisfy her so completely.

  He was young. She'd not yet asked his age, but he was younger than she. Tom had been ten years older and so had Frobisher. She'd heard tales of young stallions but not thought them literal. She shivered, but with delight. To have that every night.

  It did feel too good to be true, but it wasn't. She was establishing herself here. The starchiest local people were thawing, probably because they saw how happy Ben was, but also because she made sure she and her children were modestly impeccable.

  The servants were content, and even John was coming round a little.

  Her children were thriving, blossoming as never before. Michael in particular was doing so well, gradually shedding his precocious responsibility, but maturing in other ways in the company of a caring man.

  After Christmas they'd have to consider a tutor or school, but for now he had all he needed. After Christmas she'd sleep with Ben, but for now she still shared a bed with her daughters, and she'd miss that, just a little, when it ended.

  Disaster arrived the next day.

  Chapter Six

  A knock at the front door was unusual, so Lily came out of the drawing room, which she'd been cleaning with the maids. She looked over the banisters and saw a cloaked man enter.

  "Good day, John. My cousin at home?"

  "Yes, sir. In the l
ibrary."

  The visitor shed his cloak and other outer clothing. "A fire in the hall? What's the world coming to?"

  "Changes, sir," John said, but to the visitor's back. He was striding without hesitation to the library door. He opened it without a knock. "Ben, changes? Tell me all!"

  Lily retreated, but not to the drawing room.

  Cousin? She hadn't inquired about Ben's family tree. Perhaps she should have. The visitor was in riding clothes, but everything about his voice and manner was familiar to her -- it spoke of court and Town, of the glittering sphere she'd once known, if only from the edges.

  She wished she could hide, but Ben would be bound to summon her down to meet his relative.

  She hurried to the bedchamber and looked at herself in the mirror. She didn't know that man, so they might never have met. On the other hand, Tom had moved in fashionable circles and sometimes brought cronies home.

  Then there was the trial. The beau monde had crammed in to enjoy the scandal. What would they remember? She'd dressed soberly, but not as soberly as she dressed now.

  For cleaning, she was wearing her oldest, plainest gown, which was good. Her apron was plain and functional, not the delicate, lace-trimmed sort worn as ornament. She exchanged her small cap for a larger mob cap that covered nearly all her hair.

  But her face, her face.

  She wished for paint now in order to dull her cheeks and lips.

  A knock. Becky came in. "Sir Benjamin asks if you can go downstairs, ma'am. Mr. Perriam's here."

  "Mr. Perriam? Who is he?"

  "Sir Benjamin's cousin, ma'am," Becky said with bright eyes. "A cousin a few steps off, if you know what I mean, ma'am. Mr. Perry's the son of an earl, he is, and such a one! Nothing bad about him, ma'am, but always one for fun and flirting."

  Perry Perriam!

  Lily turned back to the mirror to hide her expression. He was the sort of Town man that everyone knew about. A leader of fashion, an intimate of the great, known for elegance, grace, and charm. A memory stirred of someone saying, "Too clever for his own good." She shrugged that away. It could mean anything, and she remembered him being famous only for the cut of his coats, his elegant bows, and his witty bon-mots.

  He was a social butterfly, and though they had been at the same events at times, it had been in company with hundreds. He’d never have noticed her existence.

  But had he attended the trial?

  That would be disaster, but she could do nothing about it, except to hope that Perriam would never connect sober Mistress Gifford with Lillias Dellaby.

  "Thank you, Becky. I'll be right down."

  After fussing over her appearance for a few more minutes, she braced herself and went downstairs, repeating all the reasons Perry Perriam shouldn't recognize her. When she entered the library, however, she saw that he instantly did. It was only by a sharp, intent look, but it was clear.

  Almost, she fled, but perhaps calmness would make him doubt himself?

  Ben introduced his cousin, and she dipped a curtsy. "An honor to meet you, Mr. Perriam."

  "Mistress Gifford is my guest, Perry, but you'll have guessed that she's something more. Shortly to make me the happiest man on earth."

  Perriam's brows rose, but his smile indicated only delight.

  He was a courtier. His smiles could mean anything.

  He bowed. "What delightful news, ma'am. I look forward to learning all about you."

  Nothing in his manner -- nothing -- gave that a razor edge, but it cut anyway.

  Don't spoil this, don't.

  Can't you see how happy Ben is?

  She turned to Ben. "What a pleasure for you to have your cousin here, my dear. I'll leave you two alone."

  "No, no. Sit, love, and help me tell your tale. I was quite the hero, you know, Perry, if it can be called heroic to take a family up into a carriage."

  Ben moved a chair close to the other two, and Perriam deftly took it, leaving the two principal chairs to Lily and Ben. Too clever for his own good. Or anyone else's.

  Lily's heart was pounding, and she was sure she was pale, but she could only do her best.

  "You were a true hero to me, sir, for I fear at least one of my children would have perished on that icy night."

  "Lily has five children," Ben said, as proud as if he'd sired them himself. "All clever."

  Lily found a laugh. "That's doing it too brown, my dear. Susie will never become a philosopher, and I predict Tommy will always be more fond of action than books."

  "An excellent throwing arm for a lad," Ben said.

  "As he showed by almost hitting the glass house from the rose garden." She turned to Perriam. "But we must not bore you with such talk."

  "Not at all, ma'am. It is quite fascinating."

  His amiable face could have been a mask, for all she could read from it.

  Did he not see how beneficial the children were to Ben? Could he not see how innocent they were?

  Ben said, "The eldest lad, Michael, seems likely to go far. Can already converse tolerably in Latin, and what's more, he enjoys it, which I never did."

  Lily glanced around the library. "Surely you jest, sir."

  "Ah, but books about subjects that interest me are a different matter to Greek and Latin texts about wars and civic duty."

  "Then you must not let Michael bore you."

  "He never does. His enthusiasm for learning is enough." He turned to Perriam. "Plays a devilishly good game of chess as well."

  "Perhaps learned from his mother?" Perriam said, looking at her.

  She could chuckle in genuine amusement. "I've never touched a set. He was taught by a tutor at his school."

  "I warrant he gets his devious skills from you, ma'am, all the same."

  "Devious?" Ben objected.

  "Chess is all about deviousness, isn't it, mirroring politics, both of government and court?"

  "I leave all that to men like you, Perry. To me it's simply a game."

  "As government and court politics are a game to men like me."

  "A game?" Lily asked, angered by the cat and mouse game. "Shouldn't the fate of the nation be taken more seriously, sir?"

  "Games can be deadly serious, ma'am," Perriam said. "Contestants can die."

  "You make your life sound like a gladiatorial contest," Ben said with a laugh.

  "Morituri te salutant," Perriam responded, using the gladiatorial words -- we who are about to die salute you. He said it looking at her, but he wasn't predicting his own death.

  Lily rose. "I must go up and supervise the children's dinner, sirs."

  "Perry can join our afternoon walk," Ben said. "Give him a chance to meet them. He can only stay the one night. Always busy, always busy."

  "I'd have it no other way," Perriam said. "You must know how plants are different in their ways."

  "But none," Lily said, "are particularly mobile, sir, unless cut."

  She wasn't sure it made sense, but it was a good enough note on which to escape. She did hurry upstairs, but she paused outside the schoolroom door to collect herself.

  He knew. She wished she knew what he would do. What he was feeling, even.

  She knew his type, however, and she knew enough of the royal court and the highest levels of Town society to know dissimulation and conniving were the way of life there. She could never compete.

  All she could do was pray he would see how happy Ben was.

  And, perhaps, during the afternoon walk, he would realize how innocent her children were. How they should not be thrown out into the winter cold.

  ***

  As they sat down again, Ben considered Perry. "You're not quite pleased. I know the world would say I could do better, but I don't think so."

  "You could do better," Perry said in that pleasant tone that often concealed his more serious emotions.

  "That's rot. You speak as if I have the pick of the nation. Dammit, that sounds as if I've only chosen Lily out of desperation, and it isn't so. I love her."

 
"Do you know her well enough to love her?"

  "Is there a required time for it? Let's not quarrel over it. I'll not have any incivility."

  "Good God, when have you ever known me to be uncivil?"

  "You can be uncivil whilst smiling and praising."

  "Oh, in that situation it's easiest of all. I promise not to be uncivil to Mistress Gifford. If she'll make you happy, that solves all problems."

  "Thank you. She does, you know. She's not of a scholarly disposition, but we talk easily on many subjects. Of an evening, we sit together here. Sometimes I read to her as she sews. It won't sound exciting to you, but I like it."

  "I can see how you might."

  "I'm not one for gadding about and frolics, but I've been lonely. I hadn't realized how lonely until she and her family came here. And..."

  "And?" Perry asked.

  Ben waved the question away, but he knew Perry must guess what he'd almost said, not least from his blush.

  "Certainly a consideration," Perry said. "Plus, of course, you would like an heir."

  "Yes, I would. My duty, in fact."

  "A man should definitely do his duty."

  "You're laughing at me. Very well, she's a damned desirable woman."

  "Very. It would almost seem the gods blessed you when they put the Giffords in your path."

  "It feels like that. Enough of my mundane business, what concerns you these days?"

  "Trivialities."

  "I doubt that. Speak. I may want nothing to do with your world, but viewed from a distance, it fascinates me. Who has dueled whom? What petty squabbles rock the nation? Is the king sickening in body, mind, or both? What evil schemes do the French weave?"

  ***

  Lily managed not to fuss at her children about being on their best behavior. It could make them awkward and would raise questions in Michael's and Charlotte's minds. If they saw Perriam as a threat or enemy, they might do anything. By now, life here was precious to them, and they'd fight to keep it.

  Her desperate mind was throwing up more details about the enemy. Noblemen lived only part of the year in London, but he was the sort of younger son who was a "Town man." Tom had been of the same sort, though lower in bloodline and fortune.

  In the heat of summer, when the London smells intensified and disease spread, Town men reluctantly left for country house parties, but they returned as soon as problems eased. They would often declare that life elsewhere was tedium, some even that all other places on earth were dull.