by Kerryn Reid
“And then there’s the rest of the family. There stands poor Jack, his attics completely to let. And Miss Wedbury—yes, there she is—whose passion for a red coat makes her forget the honor due to her family.”
A handful of boos followed. Gideon ignored them.
Keep going, brother. Let’s see how many people you can alienate.
“Sir John spoke at copious length about honor. My brother’s honor, his bride’s honor, even the honor of the love child born so dishonorably early.
“Now, honor is a tricky thing. It’s lauded in song and society, in poetry and politics. But honor is boring. Honorable men are dull men. Don’t you agree, ladies?”
A few giggles sounded amidst the grumbles and shuffling of feet.
“My brother, Lewis, is such a man. I was never more surprised in my life than the day I learned he was to marry a chit who— Well, you understand me. How, I ask myself, did my honorable brother achieve so dishonorable a result? There is also the troubling question of how such a dishonorable fate befell his so-honorable bride. Could it be another immaculate conception?”
Lewis had heard enough. Every muscle screamed to do violence.
Perhaps there was a better way. One hand on Jack’s shoulder, he turned his back on his brother.
“Let’s get something to eat, Jack.” He spoke in a normal voice, but it sounded very loud in the quiet room.
“Oh, yes!” Jack replied. “I’m hungry.”
As they crossed to the door in the farthest corner of the room, it was easy to make a conspicuous exit. And with no more than a word here and a nudge there, the mass of guests followed. The chatter grew as the tension waned.
Gideon’s voice rose above it, a whine of pique. “Whither goest thou, Lewis? I haven’t reached the good part yet.”
Lewis sheltered Anna in the circle of his arm and moved through the doorway with all the others. He didn’t look to see how many remained to hear the good part.
The empty champagne bottles stood in rows on the sideboard, the platters cleared of everything but a curl of parsley, a rind of lemon. Crystal in all shapes and sizes cluttered every table.
As the guests trickled away, Anna’s strength did too. She must go to Doris, but Doris would have to wait a few more minutes.
Only their particular friends remained, standing in the dining room that had been jammed with people. The Wedburys, the Redferns, Mr. Lindale and Captain Fuller. Plus Lewis’s parents, of course. Mrs. Aubrey looked as spent as Anna felt.
“Did anyone hear the end of it?” Lewis said. “Did Gideon ever get to the good part?”
Mr. Lindale answered. “No. He was too busy puling and moaning. Don’t think it would have mattered in any case. Nothing more than sour grapes, that’s what people were saying.”
Anna gripped Lewis’s hand and pulled herself up tall. She had friends. Yes, they had belonged to Lewis first, every one of them. But they were now hers, as well.
She said, “I want to thank you all for what you’ve done for me…for us. I’ll try to be brief, though each of you deserves a long letter.
“Sir John, you saw how deeply your words moved me today. If I say more, I’ll cry again. Lady Wedbury, for your kindness in London and your unflinching support under difficult circumstances. Oh, Cassie, thank you for making me your friend. I treasure you like a sister, I think, though I never had one. No, don’t hug me, I shan’t be able to finish.”
Cassie laughed, rather watery, and a few others chuckled. Anna took the moment to regain her composure.
“Mr. Wedbury… May I call you Jack, at least this once? You’ve been Lewis’s best friend forever. He needed you, and he still does.”
Jack gave her no opportunity to refuse his hug. “You can call me Jack whenever you like.” She feared her ribs would crack. He danced back to his spot, a big grin on his face. More laughter.
“Captain Fuller? Again, for London. And for making Cassie so happy. Mind, if you take her away I won’t be so pleased with you.”
“Mr. Lindale, I’ve known you only a few days, but I know how highly Lewis thinks of you, and you’ve proven your bravery by coming to the Dales in January to lend us your support.”
When she turned to the Redferns, her tears overflowed. She rushed forward and took a hand of each. “What can I say? For taking me in and welcoming Doris and me into your wonderful family, for teaching me so much about motherhood, for…oh, so much more. I’m sorry, I can’t speak.”
Lewis appeared by her side to hand her his handkerchief. “What’s one more?” he said, to general laughter.
Mrs. Aubrey stood next in line. Almost finished. “My dear new mama. I love you already, and our friendship will only grow stronger. You have much to teach me about courage.” She made this hug quick to keep the tears at bay. Only Lewis remained…
But there stood his father, scowling and alone. “Mr. Aubrey.” There was nothing to say, yet she must say something. “We’ve had a difficult beginning. Yet without you, there would be no Lewis, and without Lewis where would I be? I thank you for that.”
She returned to Lewis’s side. Cassie and others came forward but she held up her hand. “I’m sorry, I’m not quite finished. If I thanked Lewis for everything he’s done for me, it would take a lifetime. Fortunately, I’ll have a lifetime to do it.” She faced him and took his hand, drawing strength from his touch.
Gently, he tipped her chin up. “You don’t need to do this.”
“I do, Lewis. My husband. Thank you for your kindness and friendship through the most difficult times I can imagine surviving. Without you, I would not have. For finding me when I wished not to be found, for bludgeoning me with the truth when I needed to hear it, for giving me hope when I had none. My hope now is that I live to deserve you.”
Blushing, he shook his head. “No, Anna.” But she persevered.
“I never dreamed of finding a man like you because I never knew such a man existed. A man who gives nothing less than everything for love…and yes, Sir John, for honor.” She looked his way as she spoke his name. Cassie was crying, and her mother too.
“Most recently, Lewis, thank you for the handkerchief.” Relieved laughter. “And for finding a graceful, bloodless way out of the drawing room. I was so afraid—”
He cut her off with a kiss, his arms wrapping around her, tight and wonderful. “Hush, sweet girl. You’ll have me bawling like a baby. Speaking of which…”
“Heavens yes! Poor Dorrie. Will you come up with me?”
“I’ll do better than that.” He picked her up and carried her from the room, tossing a “Be back soon” over his shoulder.
“My God, take your time, old chap,” one of the men called out.
Lewis laughed and started up the stairs. “I wish we could do what Fuller has in mind. How many more hours must I wait?”
Chapter 48
Later, when the last of the guests had left, Lewis had a tray delivered to Anna’s room and stayed to dine with her. But the prospect of food had nothing to do with his heart, already beating an impatient rhythm as he approached her door.
Her hair hung loose about the shoulders of her dressing gown—wool, not the silk one he had chosen for her. He could see nothing intimate, but he recalled every touch, every part of her that had ever come in contact with any part of him.
Her hand on his arm or resting in his as they danced. Even the breath of space between them during the waltz had made his skin tingle.
Her cold lips on his cheek, the barest graze of a thank you.
His accidental brush against her breasts as he lifted the baby from her arms, the delicious weight of them on his forearm as she slept on the way home to Wrackwater Bridge. How hard it had been to let her go!
Beside him in the chair at the vicarage, kissing him until he bled with desire for her. He’d dreamt about that chair last night, about Anna on his lap with her skirts rucked up to her hips, his fingers slipping inside…
She welcomed him to their room with a kiss. “Come si
t down. I’m famished.”
Lewis sat in one chair while Anna sat in another. Not the arrangement he’d had in mind.
He had to clear his throat before he could speak. “Did you rest?”
“I slept more than an hour. I think I could dance all night.”
Not the exercise he’d had in mind, either. “The next time we get married, we’ll have a ball to celebrate.”
She chuckled. “Silly goose. I don’t need a ball.”
“Good. I wouldn’t want to share you on our wedding night. Not for even one dance.”
She applied herself to dinner while he watched her, nursing a glass of wine. Eventually, she noticed.
“You’re not hungry?”
“Not for food.”
She stared at him a moment before catching his meaning. Her lips formed a captivating “Oh” as a blush colored her cheeks. She ducked her head, but he saw the dimple beside her mouth. If she ever finished eating, he would kiss her. Right there.
“What’s been happening downstairs?” she asked. An attempt to deflect his attention, no doubt, only partially successful.
They had drunk another toast to her, he said, and talked about Gideon.
“Where is he?” Anna asked. “Does anyone know?”
He shook his head. “No, but he’ll be back. He left his valet behind. Off to drown his grievances in drink, I suppose. Maybe he’ll ride off a cliff and break his neck.” At the moment, he didn’t care.
“Really, Lewis. I think he’s learned you’re a man to reckon with. What you did today, and those bruises when you came back to Leeds… You fought him, didn’t you?”
He grimaced. “I didn’t want you to know.” Inevitable that she would figure it out, however.
At last, Anna wiped her mouth and laid her napkin aside. He set his empty glass on the table with a click.
“Whatever he may or may not have learned, until he’s truly gone you will lock your door whenever you’re in your room, and not leave it unless there’s someone with you.” Raising his hands to fend off her objections, he added, “It’s only a precaution.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I feel like a prisoner.”
“I know, love. But for now…”
“For now?” She came to stand in front of him, her knee touching his thigh as it had done before, on the sofa, the window seat, the carriage. This was different. This time, she was his.
“For now,” she repeated, “we’re going to forget about Gideon. Doris too. She should be fine until midnight.”
“Oh, I hope so.” His throat felt tight, his trousers tighter. If he leaned forward just a bit, her breasts would be right there…
She bent over him, her hands on his shoulders for support. He looked up and there it was. A smile, this one of mischief.
He pressed his mouth to that perfect spot and the pleasure of it knifed straight down to his groin. “They should sanctify that dimple.”
She gurgled with laughter and he kissed it again, flicking out his tongue to taste it as he separated her dressing gown. He forgot about the dimple. Because the nightdress underneath was silk. Silk so fine it was almost not there at all.
No need to feel for her waist, he could see it. No need to guess at the exact contours of her breasts, he could see them. Don’t rush it, Lewis. Things could easily go much faster than he wanted them to.
“You’re wearing it, after all.” He hadn’t meant to whisper.
“I changed after Putnam left. It shocks her terribly.”
“Putnam’s not the one wearing it, is she.”
He risked a tentative hand on her hip. Anna sat on his lap, eliciting a groan he never felt coming.
She took hold of his cravat, drew it from his waistcoat, and went to work on the knot. He grinned, watching her, her brow furrowed in concentration, as the knot tightened around his neck. A brief distraction from his other discomforts.
“Let me do it, love, before you choke me. Your valet skills need some work.”
She gave a little snort of laughter and tackled the buttons of his waistcoat. Both garments dropped to the floor.
Facing him, she drew one leg across and straddled him. He couldn’t breathe. That heavy dressing gown interfered with his mindless quest to position her where he wanted her. But then it didn’t matter because she was kissing him.
“Lewis?”
“Hunh.”
“Can we get a chair?”
“A…a chair?” His brain had gotten lost somewhere. Aren’t we on a chair?
“Yes, like the one at the vicarage.” She rested her cheek on his shoulder, her breath feathering his cheek. “You remember it. The big one with—”
God yes, he remembered it. “It’s coming soon.”
She kissed him again. “I should have known. You’re too smart.”
He didn’t feel smart at all, but he knew one thing. “There’s a bed.”
And another thing. “Get rid of this damned dressing gown.”
He got rid of it for her and carried her to the bed. Gripping the bedpost for balance, he tugged off his shoes and dropped them anyhow.
“Take off your shirt too.”
As he swiveled to the bed her gaze rose from his waist, up his chest, and finally met his. He could not have described her expression if his life depended on it, but he knew damn well no woman had ever scrutinized him that way before.
He lay down beside her and she turned until her breasts pressed against his chest, full and firm, only that wisp of silk separating skin from skin. He kissed her cheek, the soft spot beneath her ear, the point on her neck where her pulse pounded.
She pushed herself up onto one hip, wriggling to pull her nightdress free. Drew it over her head and dropped it to the floor. Her neck, her shoulders, her smooth, beautiful back with her honey hair hanging down. The swell of her hips. He sat behind her and stroked his hands down her spine, up over her shoulder blades and down again to settle at her waist. So soft, so like his dreams, yet so unlike. Warm and real.
He pulled her against him, slid one hand around to cover her belly, the other up over her ribs to stop beneath one breast, respectful. Her pulse beat there, hard and fast.
He’d have been happy to linger a while in that secret place. But she stretched an arm up, running her hand round the nape of his neck, and somehow her nipple was centered in his palm, hard as a pebble. “Mmm.” He kissed her temple, felt the pulse there too.
He’d advanced deep into foreign territory now, with nothing to guide him but Thomas Rowlandson’s bawdy cartoons. A few dreams, or maybe a hundred. And the lewd conversation of the bucks he knew. Did their advice apply to wives? To his sweet, fragile, passionate Anna?
Her body quivered with… Was it excitement? Anticipation? Desperation? He pulled off his trousers and tossed them across the room. He laid her down in the candlelight, stroked the front of her as he had the back, his fingers finally easing their way between her legs. With a gasp and a shudder she opened herself to his touch.
“You must tell me what feels good. I’m no expert.” He didn’t recognize his voice.
Panting, she shifted his hand a fraction of an inch. Her head back, her lips parted, she moved against him until, with a soft cry, she came off. The shudder, the spasm of her muscles inside—surely he could not be mistaken. He withdrew his hand and placed it on her belly, watching as she slowly returned to him.
If she had been content, if she had slipped directly into sleep, he would have set his own desire aside for another time. She’d had a long, upsetting day.
But her eyes opened, met his, and dropped to his mouth. The tip of her tongue peeped out to wet her lips. She said his name.
It had become such a habit to conceal his desire, even from himself, that it felt like something forbidden, primal, animal. Imperative.
Slow down, you fool.
But she moaned, and wrapped her legs around him, and thought disintegrated. He was left a shuddering wreck, with Anna wrapped close in his arms.
Anna’s bre
asts hurt, compressed between Lewis’s chest and her own, but she dared not say anything. He would move, and she did not want him to move—ever. Everything else felt so very good.
This was Lewis, who loved her, whom she trusted so deeply. He proved himself every day—and starting now, every night. Gideon had talked about intimate relations, but already Lewis had taught her that love, shared, gave intimate relations their intimacy, their meaning.
His hand rubbed her thigh where it draped over his hip, frenetic at first but slowing along with his breathing, his heartbeat.
“What time is it?” she mumbled, sleepy and sated. “We should get dressed.”
He grunted his disapproval but clambered out of bed and padded across the floor to fumble through his clothing for his watch. So thin she could see his bones, yet strong, like wire. She could see his muscles too, in his arms and shoulders, his thighs and buttocks. Mmm.
“Just after ten.” He dropped her nightdress over her head, pulled a folded nightshirt from a shelf for himself, and slid in behind her.
He curled his body around hers and wrapped an arm about her, slipping his hand between her waist and the mattress. Anna sighed and laid her arm atop his.
He placed a light kiss on the nape of her neck. “We might as well get a little sleep before the baby comes.”
But they didn’t. They had far better things to do.
By rights, she should have been tired the next day. Yet elation carried her floating through the multitude of callers—every woman who had been there yesterday, it seemed, and surely some who had not. Some of the men, as well.
They came to congratulate Anna once more, “For in all that crush it was impossible to do the thing properly;” to thank Lewis’s mother for “A spectacular, memorable party, my dear;” and to glean whatever tidbits they could for the gossip mill. It was like London, except that she always had a friend in the room. Sometimes Lewis, sometimes Cassie, and always her new mama, enjoying herself, proud to show off her daughter to her neighbors. Anna’s own mother had never been proud—not of Anna.
