A fresh set of nerves raced through her as he moved into position and slowly spread her legs apart. His gaze shifted to her most intimate places. Grace closed her eyes, unable to watch him as he stared at her nether regions.
“You are the most exquisite creature I’ve ever had the pleasure of laying eyes upon,” he said, his tone full of reverence.
And then his fingers, having danced their way from her knees, up her thighs to the curly hair that guarded her most private place, found that most private place. Grace sucked a breath in between her teeth as he toyed with her, first spreading her apart and then delving one long, slender finger inside her. It wasn’t until he withdrew that she realized how slick she was, but it was as if her juices were pouring out of her, more and more with every dip of his finger, soaking her mound of hair.
“Dear God,” she whispered, feeling as if she might splinter any moment.
But before she could, Evan withdrew his finger and lowered his head between her legs. Grace was too fevered with passion to feel embarrassed. She needed this—she needed him. She needed to know the pleasures of this base act that she’d only heard about from outside a drawing room window.
Evan kissed her there, and even that simple gesture caused her body to flinch involuntarily. But when he spread her with his fingers and tasted her with his tongue …
“Oh, Evan!” she cried, feeling as if she were losing all control.
He gave a little laugh and then growled against her as he began his ministrations. He laved at her, up and down, slowly. Whenever he reached the apex of her womanhood, he drew the little nub between his lips and sucked gently, before returning to her entrance. Over and over he licked and nipped and tasted, sometimes even forcing his tongue into her tightness and then replacing it with a finger to lick and taste again.
Just when Grace thought she couldn’t take it anymore—when she was trembling with the force of her desire—he drew the nub between his lips and sucked until she exploded into fireworks of ecstasy. She bucked and gyrated against his mouth, as he wrapped his arms around her hips and drew her even closer to him.
“It won’t…end!” she cried, wondering if her heart might expire from the waves of ecstasy washing over her, stealing her breath away.
Apparently, Evan found this rather funny, and was forced to slow his pace due to laughter. She could see the humor in it too, now that she was coming down from her cloud of desire. She was giggling when he pulled away and crawled his way back up to her, hovering over her again with those deliciously sculpted arms.
“You are the most delightful creature, Grace Gilford, inside and out,” he said, his pale blue eyes dancing with love and amusement.
Grace reached around him and pulled the ribbon from his hair. She’d never seen it unbound, and as it fell around his shadowed jaw, desire sparked anew within her. “And you are…” She couldn’t even think of a word to describe him. Dangerous didn’t seem to apply anymore, not knowing that so much love and generosity existed within him. Handsome wasn’t good enough. Beautiful wasn’t manly enough. “Virile!” she finally announced. That was it. He was most definitely virile.
Clearly, her choice of adjective pleased him, for he moaned with pleasure and then plunged himself, without further ado, inside of her. Grace gasped, taken slightly off guard, but not at all upset about it, and then pulled him down to her so they were chest to chest.
It took mere moments for Evan to find his climax, and he roared with the force of his orgasm as he spilled himself inside her passage. Grace smiled up at him, her virile Greek-god of a husband, quite satisfied with herself. It hadn’t been an easy road getting here—she’d given up hope completely just a couple of weeks ago—but here she was, married to him, the Duke of Somerset. It all felt so surreal and so very right at the same time.
“What are you grinning at?” he asked as he removed himself from her and then pulled the covers over them as he nestled in beside her. She gladly burrowed into his arms, hoping she’d never have to leave them. Ever.
“Oh, nothing,” she sighed, closing her eyes and breathing in the clean, woodsy scent of him—her husband. “Just that I’m glad you finally came to your senses.”
Evan gave a little chuckle.
She was so very exhausted, not just from today, but from weeks of worry and frustration over this man. Now that she was his, now that she was safely ensconced in his arms, she could rest peacefully. She barely heard him when he said, “So am I, my love. So am I.”
Eighteen
In the little time she’d had to prepare for her marriage to Evan, Grace hadn’t had any time to think about what her life might be like after the wedding. She’d not really given a single thought to the fact she was going to be a duchess or what that might entail. But she was learning quickly. If she’d thought her social calendar was full before as the poor relation of a Wetherby, she had been sorely mistaken. Now she knew what full meant. By the end of her second week as the Duchess of Somerset, after countless soirees, balls, afternoon calls, suppers, luncheons, and being kept up most of the night to engage in physical activity with her husband, she was positively exhausted.
However, she wasn’t exhausted enough to miss out on the meeting she’d been waiting to attend for the last two years at her sister’s house. She nearly burst with the anticipation of joining the ladies today, and she’d even invited her sister-in-law. Hannah had just arrived at Somerset House and Grace greeted her in the foyer.
“Don’t take off your bonnet,” she told her. “We’ll march right next door.”
Hannah smiled nervously. “Are you certain I should join you?”
“It will be great fun, I assure you.” Grace lowered her voice. “Mrs. Finch is quite knowledgeable.”
They stepped out into the bright sun and Grace linked her arm with Hannah’s as they set off for next door.
“Well, perhaps she can help me figure out how to make my husband stay faithful to me.”
Grace’s heart tugged a bit at the sadness in Hannah’s tone. Maybe she shouldn’t have invited her to this meeting, after all. Part of her felt guilty that her own husband was so devoted and generous. It didn’t seem fair that Hannah had to endure someone so very awful when she was quite possibly the most pleasant person on earth. And how would she feel hearing the other ladies talk of their kind-hearted, devoted husbands?
Blast, she really hadn’t thought this through. “Well, one cannot control the actions of others,” Grace said, for lack of something better to say.
“I’m certain I know that better than anyone.”
They arrived at Chloe’s front door, and it swung open immediately, so there was no time for her to respond.
“Right this way, ladies,” Geoffrey said, leading them to the drawing room, as if Grace hadn’t lived there for the last two years.
Grace and Hannah were the last to arrive, which was a bit unnerving, seeing as it was her first time. She glanced sideways at Hannah, whose cheeks were just as red as hers felt. She began the introductions and hugged the women she’d come to know so well, outside of these meetings, of course.
There was Katherine, the Duchess of Hart, Phoebe, the Marchioness of Eastleigh, Becky, Viscountess Hastings, and, of course, Chloe. Mrs. Finch sat in the high-back, pink-striped chair, her cheeks ruddy above a wide smile. Her blonde hair, that seemed to have a mind of its own, stuck out at all angles, and her kind brown eyes danced with merriment. Grace had heard her deliver bawdy details through the open window for the last two years, and she knew her quite well as the Wetherby House housekeeper—so why was she so uneasy?
“Welcome, ladies!” the woman said excitedly. “I told your sister it’ll be fun to have fresh blood.”
Now Grace’s cheeks were positively aflame. How could she be so nervous for something she’d been waiting so long to be a part of? Perhaps it was because now she actually knew something—well, many things—about the marriage bed. Could she really share them, as the rest of the ladies did? What would Evan say if he kn
ew she was telling all these women—including his sister—about what they’d done?
Panic rose to her throat. Goodness, but this was a bad idea. She wished she could run from the room and never return. But even as that thought crossed her mind, she allowed her sister to lead her to one of the sofas that faced Mrs. Finch.
“Shall we begin?” Katherine asked.
“Have at me, ladies,” Mrs. Finch said and followed up with a hearty laugh.
The ladies all tittered as Chloe poured the tea, to which Mrs. Finch added a healthy dose of sherry.
“Surely the new duchess among us must have something to share…or ask?” Phoebe batted her wide brown eyes at Grace.
“Yes, come now, Gracie,” Chloe piped up. “You’ve been begging me to join these meetings for years now. I imagine you were storing up all sorts of questions during that time.”
Questions that have already been answered. Oh, heavens. It hadn’t occurred to her that none of them knew she’d been eavesdropping all that time, and that any question she might have had back then had been answered either by them or by her new husband. She rather thought herself an expert on the topic of lovemaking now. But she couldn’t tell them that.
She was about to open her mouth—to say what, she didn’t know—when Hannah blurted out, “My husband is a philanderer!”
A chorus of gasps went around the room, not because it was so unusual her husband was unfaithful, but because no one had quite been expecting the meek Lady Beeston to make such an adamant declaration. Now Hannah looked as though she wanted to crawl into a hole.
“I’m sorry,” she said, shrinking back into the cushions of the sofa. “I-I didn’t mean to blurt it out like that.” Her cheeks flamed red and she wouldn’t make eye contact with anyone. “I was just hoping…well, thinking, really…that perhaps it’s my fault. And wondering if you could teach me how to…”
“Make him stop?” Mrs. Finch offered.
Hannah nodded, still refusing to meet the pitying faces of the women around her.
“Lady Andrew,” Mrs. Finch said, standing from her chair. “I wonder if there’s a place Lady Beeston and I could talk privately?”
A couple months ago, Grace would have been sorely disappointed for this interruption to the meeting, but as it was, she felt quite relieved. Besides, her new sister-in-law needed Mrs. Finch’s help far more than she did. Grace was rather satisfied in the bedroom, to say the least.
“You may use the library,” Chloe told the woman. As soon as Mrs. Finch closed the door behind her, the women once again descended upon Grace.
“Do you have any questions?”
“What was your wedding night like?”
“Is his lovemaking satisfactory?” This last came from Katherine, of course, the boldest of the group, and it brought a screeching halt to the conversation.
“Heavens, Katherine,” Phoebe laughed as she swatted her sister-in-law on the shoulder.
Katherine looked affronted. “What? It’s a fair question.”
Grace got over her shock rather quickly and burst into laughter at the absurdity of this meeting. She’d always thought of it like a secret society—something to aspire to—but it was really just a bunch of women who wanted to gossip about things they’d never be able to gossip about in polite society.
“To answer your questions,” Grace said at last, “No, I don’t have any questions, our wedding night was splendid, as have been the nights—and afternoons, and mornings—ever since, and yes, Katherine, he is a kind and generous lover…” She cleared her throat and added, “Which is something I discovered quite some time before we were married.”
Another collective gasp filled the room.
“No!” Phoebe cried. “Am I the only one who wasn’t bedded before I’d been wedded?”
“We are quite the scandalous bunch, aren’t we?” Becky laughed, her green eyes dancing, perhaps with memories of her pre-marital meetings with the viscount.
“That may be so,” Grace replied, “though I think my sister wins the prize for most scandalous, since Lord Andrew managed to impregnate her before they’d been wed.”
Chloe’s cheeks turned a bright shade of crimson. “Thank you for reminding everyone of that fact, dear sister.”
This elicited more laughter, and as the sherry-tea flowed, so did the scandalous conversation. Though in the back of her mind, Grace wondered what was happening with Hannah and Mrs. Finch. Could the woman really help her sister-in-law repair her marriage?
It was quite some time before Mrs. Finch returned, but she was alone.
“Where has Hannah gone?” Grace asked, her brain just the tiniest bit fuzzy from the spirits.
“She’s gone home, Your Grace.”
Your Grace. Grace might not ever get used to that. But…“She went home?” She blinked up at the woman.
“She didn’t feel much like a party, and I’m afraid it’s time for me to return to my usual duties, ladies.” She turned to Chloe. “I hope you don’t mind I spent all my time with Lady Beeston today. She was rather in a state and I didn’t feel right about leavin’ ‘er high and dry.”
Chloe leaped from her seat. “Of course not, Mrs. Finch. We can manage scandalous conversation on our own just fine.”
“Well, then I’ll see you all next week.” Mrs. Finch bid everyone good day and then quit the room to attend to her housekeeping duties.
Grace, being concerned for her sister-in-law, announced she’d be leaving as well. She said her goodbyes and left immediately. Once she arrived home, she called for a carriage. She stood on the steps of her home, bouncing up and down on her toes, waiting for the coach to arrive from the mews. It took far too long for her taste. She’d never be able to catch up to Hannah if it took much longer.
Finally, John drove the rig up before her and she darted down the path and climbed aboard.
“I’m going to visit Hannah,” she told him. “But I need you to hurry, John. It is of utmost importance.”
The driver nodded, shut the door on her, and within moments they were off toward Marylebone where Hannah and the beast lived. Grace kept the curtain pulled back, searching as they drove for the equipage with the Beeston crest. She was about to give up hope of spotting it when she saw it in the distance, turning a corner onto Marylebone Street. Grace called up to the driver to follow the carriage, and he obliged. Another few minutes and they were turning onto Tottenham Court Road.
Where is she going?
Surely, she would stop soon. They were quickly descending from the proper part of Town into an area that would land them both a scolding from their husbands—if it didn’t land them in the gutter first.
When they crossed the border into Seven Dials, Grace’s heart began to race. The streets were not nearly so civilized here, boasting drunkards and street urchins, along with all matter of creatures from pigs to rats. Heavens, what was Hannah thinking in coming here? Had Mrs. Finch given her the idea to do so? Too many questions rattled around in Grace’s head, and she had no answer to any of them, blast it all.
Finally, the carriage pulled to a stop in front of a rundown storefront, and Hannah alighted, not even aware her brother’s conveyance sat almost directly behind hers. Grace watched as her sister-in-law disappeared inside the tiny shop, and then she waited. And waited. And waited. What on earth was going on in there? She was about to jump out and barge into the store when Hannah emerged at last. She kept her head down as she made a beeline straight to her carriage, a parcel tucked under her arm, and within moments, they were off again.
Blast. Grace slumped against the squabs. She had no more information than she’d started with, other than the knowledge that her sister-in-law had spent a quarter of an hour inside an unmarked shop. Hardly anything to write home about.
Very well. She would just have to try and pry it out of her the next time she saw her.
~*~
Evan and his new relations, Lord Andrew and the Marquess of Eastleigh, along with Viscount Hastings, sat around a table
at White’s, drinking scotch and speculating about what their wives might be saying about them at their little meeting. Of course, Evan knew quite intimately what went on in their meetings, but he didn’t want to be the one to break the news to the other gentlemen, so he remained quiet on the subject.
The Wetherby men were rather amusing, poking fun at one another whenever the opportunity arose, with cutting wit and obvious good humor. The viscount was a bit more serious, and nursed his scotch much more slowly than the rest of them.
All in all, it had been a nice afternoon’s divertissement, but if truth be known, Evan wanted only to return home to his wife. So, when the time felt right, he stood and tipped his hat to his companions.
“Going so soon?” Lord Andrew asked, a boyish smile on his face. “I was just going to suggest we head over to Cockford’s for some real fun.”
“And by fun,” the marquess put in, “he means playing two hands of Hazard and then going home to his wife, who would have his head if he played anymore than that.”
Lord Andrew smiled and nodded. “He speaks the truth.”
“As much as I’d love to, gentlemen, I’m afraid I have some things to look over before my wife returns home,” Evan lied.
“Afraid of a little friendly competition?”
Damn and blast!
He turned on his heel, his jaw tight, to face his brother-in-law. “Beeston.”
“Gentlemen,” Beeston said, slurring the word slightly. “I’d gladly take you up on a trip to Cockford’s.”
Of course he would.
“I’m afraid I must bow out as well,” Hastings said, coming to his feet.
Lord Andrew nudged his brother. “Come now, Benjamin, do say you’ll join us.” There was more than a hint of desperation in the man’s tone. Clearly, he didn’t want to be left alone with Beeston. Evan couldn’t blame him.
The marquess looked as if he’d rather have all his teeth pulled, but finally acquiesced to his younger brother. “I suppose I could indulge you for an hour or so.”
The Temptation of the Duke (Regency Romance) Page 17
