Sexual Hunger

by Melissa MacNeal

  “I thought it best to be sure you were awake, milady,” the butler repeated. His gaze wandered along the curve of her hip. “You were having a rather…spectacular dream. Probably not something you’d want to explain to Mrs. Booth.”

  Her cheeks prickled with heat. The brazen bastard knew damn well what she’d been doing, yet he showed no sign of leaving so she could get out of bed. “Perhaps you’re recalling what you and Jemma did yesterday,” she countered. “I saw the way you kissed her in the garden at Wildwood—”

  “Then you also know Jemma sprang at me, and not the other way around.” His tone sounded defensive, but then he relaxed. “And yes, I got what I was hoping for. Thank you for allowing me to escort you yesterday, milady. If I may be of assistance—”

  “You may leave now, Quentin,” she insisted. “There’ll be hell to pay if I keep Lady Darington waiting at LeChaud Soeurs. And I do not require your help getting dressed, thank you. If Jason finds out you’ve been coming to my room—”

  The butler smiled knowingly, bowed, and then took his leave.

  Maria scratched her head. What was real, and what had happened only in her dream? The man in the pirate garb still toyed with her senses: the musk in her bed was a blatant reminder of how she’d spent the last several minutes. If only she knew with whom.

  “Jason, you’ve got to come home,” she muttered as she swung her legs over the edge of the bed. “Or you must at least send word. I’m losing my mind without you—not to mention all rational control of my body.”

  She listened. But her lover didn’t reply.

  “This gown looks so lovely, Miss Palladino. Perfect with your dark hair and dusky coloring.” Camille LeChaud Bentley smiled as she smoothed the shoulder seam and then clipped a stray thread. “Thank you for requesting a design that defies the current mode. I so love a challenge, and together we’ve met it!”

  As Maria gazed at her reflection in the shop’s large cheval mirror, she felt fully alive for the first time since her wedding day. The aquamarine brocade shimmered seductively where it dipped into the crevice between her breasts, leaving her shoulders and upper back exposed before draping suggestively over her hips. Gone were the bustles and layers of lace that had once covered a woman’s attributes: this gown revealed her best features and played up the colors of the butterfly pendant that rested at her collarbone.

  And while she sensed Lady Darington’s envy, and Jemma’s irritation because she had not been singled out for the designer’s praise, Maria refused to let these women irritate her today. Perhaps her morning’s sexual satisfaction had invigorated her, or at least made her feel Jason’s presence in a fleeting way. “Thank you, Camille. You’ve done a wonderful job, as always—”

  “Yes, and we’re so happy to provide such finery for Maria,” Dora cut in, “even though the man she was to have danced with Saturday can’t be present.”

  Maria sighed. Would these Darington women never let her forget she was beholden to them? “Yes, I’m grateful to you as well,” she murmured. “You’ve been most generous, providing me a home and the means to enjoy a social life despite my…predicament.”

  “And such a shame that is, too!” Colette Bentley looked up from her ledger to smile compassionately at Maria. “Has there been no word at all, then? No response to Lord Darington’s telegrams?”

  “Nothing,” Dora replied with a pathetic sniff. “It’s as though the heir to the family name and estates sailed off the edge of the earth, to disappear without a trace.”

  “I’m so sorry, milady. Please accept our prayers for your son’s return.” Camille stood beside her twin, remarkably pretty in her advanced state of pregnancy. “I can’t imagine surviving from one day to the next without my Heath.”

  “Nor I without Hadrian,” Colette added, rubbing her extended belly. She fingered Maria’s jeweled butterfly. “I hear our Aunt Meriweather has not enjoyed the same sort of luck in love, however. When she discovered some of her jewelry missing, she sent that charlatan Polinsky packing!”

  “Oh really!” Jemma blurted. She turned at the mirror, admiring the way her new sky blue gown displayed her waist and hips to such advantage. “That tidbit should set her hen friends to cackling!”

  “Jemma! We mustn’t mock those who become the victims of trickery.” As Lady Darington joined her daughter before the mirror, her preening took on a studied intensity: the scarlet gown was striped with black, symbolically declaring dismay over her missing son while dramatically displaying her sleek features.

  “Indeed,” Camille remarked sadly. “The poor dear was so happy to have a man in her life again. This whiff of scandal sets her off as a gullible old fool.”

  “Let’s hope it serves as a warning to her friends,” Maria remarked. “Everyone who meets Mr. Polinsky seems to fall under his spell.”

  “He recently conducted a séance at Esther Grumbaugh’s home. And I hear Martha MacPherson has requested a personal consultation as well.” Camille stepped behind Lady Darington for a final inspection of her gown. “Perhaps you’ll hear more at the Galsworthy ball this weekend. By then Colette and I will be remaining at home, as our time draws near. You must keep us informed!”

  Was it her imagination or had Dora held her breath during these revelations? Maria noted a rise in her color and a feline shine in her eyes…a turning of her head to hide a sly smile. “Oh, indeed we shall,” Lady Darington replied. “Just as we shall spread the word about keeping one’s jewelry—not to mention one’s reputation—safely locked away. Desperation is such a despicable state. It drives us to do things, or to leave things undone, hoping to attract what we need in a…dark moment.”

  And what did Jason’s mother mean by that? The creak in the floorboard above them reminded her that her brother lived in the apartment overhead, and Maria had the urge to discuss these newsworthy items about Polinksy with him. It would look too obvious, however, if she went upstairs while Jemma and her mother were present.

  “Perhaps you should entrust your jewels to me then, Mumsy.” Jemma flashed her mother a wicked little grin. “Mr. Polinsky never spares me so much as a glance, so I could flaunt your finery without any danger of him—”

  “That’s quite enough out of you for one day!” Dora turned, a signal to the Bentley twins that the fitting was finished. “You shall have my gems in good time, when I’ve no further use for them. And meanwhile, you must earn your own! Like the rest of us!”

  18

  “Here we are once again, arriving as each other’s escorts,” Maria said with a sigh. Even the sight of the magnificent Galsworthy home, with lights in every window and music drifting on the breeze, failed to raise her spirits. “You could’ve enjoyed this ball with someone more romantic—”

  “How can you say that?” Rubio hugged her shoulders as he gazed at her. “You’ll be the belle of the ball, and I’m pleased to be seen with one so lovely! I only wish Jason could be here to enjoy it with you.”

  “You could’ve come with—”

  “But I didn’t want to! Truth be told, I’m using you as a social shield,” he confessed quietly. “A few of my clients have become…suggestive, of late. Insisting I have as much appeal and charisma as Yosef Polinksy—”

  “Oh, you’re far more appealing than he!”

  “—so by doing the honorable thing, bringing you tonight, I’m also avoiding amorous, assertive ladies who might become…more trouble than they’re worth.” When her brother smiled, the ring in his nose winked at her. “Please don’t take offense, Maria.”

  “How could I? You’ve always taken such good care of me, Rubio.” Why was it that as she watched other guests in their finery, laughing as they entered Lord Galsworthy’s home, she felt inexplicably sad? Not even her unique gown of palest aquamarine made her smile—not even when she caught the admiring glances of those walking by. “And here comes Jude, with the illustrious Miss Remington. What must Sarah be? At least ten years older than he! Gathering dust on the shelf because she refused so many eligible
suitors, back when—”

  “Shall I fetch you a saucer of milk, kitty? He’s putting on a respectable show, same as we are.” Rubio waved to the couple, so Maria did, too.

  But her heart wasn’t in it: had an evil spirit snatched it away and left a lump of coal in its place? Of course Jude had brought someone else! With his twin missing, all eyes were on the heir-in-waiting—and on her, the bride left unwed. So discretion was best.

  Wasn’t it?

  Jude was such a caring, considerate lover…

  Her brother’s hand tightened on her bare shoulder. “You have reason to feel downhearted this evening, you know. A month ago today we were at the church, awaiting your Jason.”

  “A month? Some days it feels like a year.”

  “Change is in the air. Major change,” the medium murmured as he steered her forward again. “While I’m not receiving any direct messages from Jason, my guides—and my instincts—inform me the sun’s about to break through the clouds of your despair—”

  Maria’s eyebrows rose.

  “—but this revelation will set another crisis into motion. Something involving…the Darington family.”

  “Doesn’t everything? If no crisis presents itself, Jemma and Dora create one.” She put on a smile as they reached the main doors, where the evening’s guests waited to be welcomed. It was a fine summer night, balmy with a light breeze that whispered in the manicured hedges. Maria recalled other balls last year, on Jason’s arm, when she’d felt like dancing before the orchestra began to play. Yet Rubio had just hit upon something, hadn’t he?

  “I—I had a strange dream a few nights ago, and every night since,” she murmured so no one else could hear. “It always involves a pirate—a lover coming to my bed. I want to believe it’s Jason…yet in so many ways, it’s not.”

  Rubio’s eyes shone like hot coffee. “What does this pirate say? Or do?”

  Maria focused on Lady Galsworthy when their hostess clasped her hands in greeting. “How lovely you look this evening!” she cooed. “That shade of blue accentuates your eyes.”

  Once a sought-after beauty, Rowena batted her thin lashes. “I’ve resurrected this poor old thing yet again,” she said with a whimper in her voice. “Reginald claims it’s his favorite, but he’s so tight he squeaks when he walks. He’ll like the looks of you, though, Maria! No word of Jason, I assume.”

  “No reply from Lord Darington’s partners on the American coast, nor any clue to his whereabouts.” She held her smile steady, as it would be her best ally tonight. Again.

  “Except, of course, what Mr. Polinsky and your brother share with us from their spirit realms.” When Rowena gazed knowingly at Rubio, Maria got the distinct impression she might be one of those potentially troublesome clients he’d mentioned.

  Her brother bowed over her wrinkled hand to kiss one of her rings. “I’m confident Jason will turn up,” he declared, loudly enough that guests turned their heads to listen. “I predict he is not only alive but…thriving. The Darington heir was never one to shrink like a violet or bemoan whatever hand Fate has dealt him. And he has Maria waiting for him! What more could any man want?”

  Maria caught Jude’s gaze from the ballroom doorway, where he stood with Sarah Remington’s hand tucked in his elbow. When she held his attention to share the hope Rubio’s prediction kindled, he winked at her behind Sarah’s back.

  “Well, some men want to ingratiate themselves with well-heeled women,” their hostess continued in a quivering voice. “And they’re coming up short when they open their jewelry boxes—which is why I’m so relieved the man in question declined our invitation! And so pleased you are here, Mr. Palladino.” Rowena fluttered like a fan as she gazed up into Rubio’s eyes.

  “Rowe! For God’s sake, the guests are lined up outside!” Lord Galsworthy called from the top of the stairs. “Save your stargazing for when Palladino can earn a little something from your nattering!”

  Their hostess withered. “So lovely to see you,” she murmured before smiling at the couple behind them.

  Rubio guided Maria upstairs then, so they could exchange pleasantries as the small orchestra on the dais tuned their instruments. Maria recognized most of those who socialized in this circle: she’d written of their soirees in her column…which seemed her best survival tactic for an evening of questions that had no answers. An evening when the man she wanted to dance with was nowhere to be found.

  As always, she made a mental note of the colors and fabrics the ladies wore, not to mention which gentlemen circulated the ballroom with their wives at the evening’s beginning and which ones slipped away—and with whom—during the course of the ball. Was it no coincidence that the wives who never wore the same gowns twice, who regally displayed their stunning gemstones, were married to the sly foxes who provided the same gifts for secret lovers?

  She considered this as she chatted with peacocks of an echelon she might never attain. As Jason Darington’s wife, she would eventually find acceptance among most of these couples—although it would take a grandchild or two to convince Dora she had much worth. But now, as an unattached female, Maria felt like a loose end waiting to be tied.

  “…and they say he lasted only two days at Esther’s, before she caught him rifling through her bedroom safe!”

  “No! Is he that intelligent? Or does his spirit guide tell him the combinations to locks, too?”

  Girlish laughter rose above the strains of a Strauss waltz as Maria eavesdropped on the conversation behind her, at the punch bowl. Helena Farquar strolled up to make it a trio of twittering birds. “No doubt he’ll be heading out on the proverbial rail, tarred and feathered, if he continues such blatant behavior!” she chirped. “Why, I hear he had the most revolting calling cards printed! With a picture of his—his—”

  “Why, Helena, I’ve never seen you blush, dear!”

  “And he was wearing a jeweled ring on it! Can you imagine?” Helena finished breathlessly.

  “I’d have to see it to believe it. But for all we know, he made up his name to go with that bulge in his trousers. Pole-insky.”

  Maria nearly spewed punch as the ladies laughed aloud. This newest voice in the mix belonged to none other than Dora Darington…the Pandora so fond of letting secrets out of the box. The woman Yosef Polinsky singled out of a crowd with his penetrating eyes.

  Dora’s younger son waltzed by then, and as he guided Miss Remington in a tight turn he gazed directly at her. Had Jude taken the photograph his mother and her friends were gossiping about? It seemed the epitome of arrogance for a man to want a likeness of his cock, but what did it say about Jude for making it? He couldn’t have just stumbled across Polinsky while his pants were down…with his camera at the right height…

  “And what might you be contemplating, Maria? That’s the wickedest grin I’ve ever seen, young lady!”

  Maria gripped her punch cup to keep from dropping it. Phillip, Lord Darington, stood before her, expecting an answer—although she sensed a rare glint of amusement in those direct gray eyes. But how could she reply that his wife had been discussing another man’s pole? The ladies behind her moved away from the table, no doubt because Darington’s daunting height and disposition tended to quell any merriment. “I—you must excuse me for overhearing some gossip, milord,” she stammered. “It’s hard to avoid at gatherings like these.”

  A grin flickered across his face, gone almost as soon as she saw it. While Jason’s father had always been cordial—and he had allowed her to remain in the town house indefinitely—she had often wondered how his sons had turned out so…easy to get along with. So accommodating and compassionate. She straightened under Darington’s scrutiny, uncertain whether his lingering gaze meant he liked her new gown, or he was lost in his own thoughts and no longer really saw her.

  “Had I met you thirty years ago, my life would be drastically different,” he murmured.

  What a startling remark! Had she heard it correctly? Maria’s mouth opened but she didn’t dare re
mind him that thirty years ago, she hadn’t been born. No, a man whose gaze smoldered, tinged with such aloof arrogance, wasn’t thinking about age.

  He’s hiding behind his arrogance. With a wife like Pandora—

  “Will you dance with me, Maria?” he asked with another of those lightning-strike smiles. “Damn shame that the most fetching woman in the room has nothing better to distract her than catty tongues.”

  When he extended his hand, she set her cup on the table and followed Lord Darington to the dance floor. The orchestra struck up Beethoven’s “Minuet in G,” and he smiled defiantly. “May I have the honor of a waltz?” he insisted. “Much more suited to enjoying the way that gown becomes you, Miss Palladino.”

  “Thank you, milord. I—yes, I much prefer the waltz myself.” Why was he paying her such close attention? Was it pity, because her man was absent?

  Not likely. Lord Darington felt sorry for no one.

  Was he interested in her, then? In a way she’d not considered before…a way he’d not shown even at home, those times she’d been in his company with Jason? As he swung her easily into the three-quarter rhythm, Maria felt the gazes from around the Galsworthys’ ballroom: while the other dancers followed the pattern of honors and step formations for the minuet, she and her not-quite father-in-law blithely twirled face-to-face.

  And Phillip Darington looked as delighted as she’d ever seen him. The lines around his eyes and mouth relaxed as he ignored whatever disapproval or speculation this waltz might provoke. “Mrs. Booth tells me your bridal portrait now graces the hall,” he said in a voice that reverberated beneath the music. “I shall come and admire it soon.”

  She took the opportunity he’d just supplied. “You knew Jude made that likeness before the wedding, didn’t you? He’s an avid—and very able—photographer.”