For the briefest of moments, the sound of his beating heart thundering in her ear gave her comfort, knowing she had done well. She finally knew what it meant to be intimate with another, and appreciated, but now he wanted to pleasure her. She should not allow it, but they had already gone too far. “What would you have me do, my lord?”
He chuckled, his bed shaking in response. “Absolutely nothing, my love. If you have no qualms about removing your shift, I would be able to delight you even further, but please only do so if you wish. I will still be able to pleasure you with or without the gown.”
After a moment of contemplating her—their—situation, Emily removed her frock, tossed it to the floor, and laid back.
“That is a good girl. You are beautiful, love. Every inch of you is meant to be worshipped.” He rose above her and bent down, gently pressing his lips to hers. The man tasted sinful. She could not help but feel lost with every swipe of his tongue. Yet too soon, he moved to the crook of her neck then through the valley of her small breasts.
That is when his ministrations began.
While his lips closed in around her pert nipple, he slid a hand down the curve of her waist to the apex of her thighs. His touch lingered there while he sucked. His fingers parted her curls and plunged into the warm dampth of her womanhood.
Lord Avonlea’s fingers penetrated her inner folds, and the sensation, so new to her, made her shudder. She felt hot, wanton, and unable to control the ridiculous sounds she had begun to make. Lost in the moment, Emily grasped straws, trying to make sense of what was happening to her.
Is this even normal? She yearned for him and could think of nothing else other than this pleasure. Her head swam with nothingness, other than her body reacting. Somewhere in the midst of enjoying his touch, she imagined them together—like this—now and forever. Shame on me for thinking such thoughts. T’was an affliction brought on by his scandalous talent. But such a wondrous talent should never go to waste.
A kittenish sigh slipped from her lips, and she breathed heavily. Her insides contracted and released in short waves.
“You are almost there, love. Ride it out. Give in to the pleasure and its offerings,” he whispered to her in the middle of the haze of lust.
His fingers continued to slide in and out of her while he confused her senses and emotions with his mouth. He had already sucked on both of her nipples and now nibbled on the sensitive flesh beneath her breasts.
Emily’s breath shortened, and her insides tensed. He made her mindless with desire. Her heart thundered in her chest, and her skin was ever so sensitive to the earl’s heavenly touch. She was blinded by bright light and empty-mindedness. Then, the bed sank next to her when his lordship lay down.
“And that, love, is how a real man pleasures a woman.” He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close. “Mind you, there are more sinful ways to explore, but we shall see what the future holds for us first before I indulge you, my sweet.”
For now, all she cared about was being in the arms of this sweet man her brother called a friend. If anyone found out about this mischief, she surely would be locked away. And this riveting man would be called out. She would never let anything happen to him.
* * * *
Charles was out of his mind for indulging the whims of his host’s sister. Hell, Nathaniel would have his arse strung up for being such an ungrateful guest. But Emily tormented every fiber of his being, to the point of being uncomfortable in his own clothing. The damned gel made him want to romp around nude all day and demonstrate how wicked he really could be with her. But Emily needed a husband more than a tarnished reputation.
The only possible way to rectify their carelessness was to get married. Married.
Now the devil had truly done it. He could not simply walk away and pretend this never happened. The thought of moving forward without Emily was simply no longer an option. In one night, their passionate embrace had shown him that there was still life after mistakes.
As to the bethrothal, it had not yet been announced. Now was the time to persuade her to marry him, and somehow keep her meddlesome mother out of his plans. Nevertheless, it was clear the Duke of Downsbury would not bow out without a fight.
Anger simmered slowly beneath the surface of his thoughts. Her mother and the duke would never agree to dissolve any existing marriage contract between the two, whilst Emily was left in the dark. However, if they knew of our scandalous night together, what would they think then? She would be whisked away. So far out of reach, not even Nathaniel would be able to see her. And he, who knows? But Emily was worth the risk. She would be his countess, one way or another.
He awoke shortly after daybreak to an empty bed and a newfound appreciation for the unfamiliar emotion of loneliness. He wondered if anyone had caught her leaving his room, or if they’d even recognize how disheveled her hair had been by the time they were done. Lord, have mercy on us all.
Visiting Stoughton Hall had been a mistake. He would never be able to sit at dinner with the marquess again, not without his thoughts wandering back to last night. Or to how truly beautiful Emily had been with him.
He rose from the bed and strode toward the washstand. Tossing on a change of clothes, Avonlea left his chambers. If he stayed on another day, it would be ruinous for all. Stalking down the hall, he found two servants whispering in a corner. His stomach flipped for a moment before he stepped off the staircase. They could not possibly know, or they would have dragged me out of bed.
Following the direction of servants leaving the kitchens to the dining hall, he walked, taking his time. The last thing he desired was to enter the room, whilst the others were mid-conversation.
The dowager countess’ shrill voice protested from the other room. “I am sure there is something wrong with this tea. Duncan, where in damnation are you!”
He walked in and took the nearest seat available to his old school friend.
“Avonlea, how good of you to join us this morning. You must have slept like the dead. We sent a servant more than an hour ago to wake you, and you did not even stir.”
“I slept well, Lord Thompson, thank you for your hospitality. I hope you did not stall your breakfast as a direct result.”
“Not at all. We do not stand much on formality here, though my mother would otherwise object.”
Emily smiled at him. A blush swept across the apple of her cheeks and down her neck. Her bright blue eyes beckoned to him once again. To embrace her, to touch, to scandalize. Thoughts of their evening made the blood rush to his cock.
The dowager countess swatted her. “Quit making a fool of yourself, Emily. Lord Avonlea, have you no manners? The gel is not available for the plucking. Show some decency, you ungrateful clod!”
“Mother!” Nathaniel shouted from the end of the table. “You will not address my house guest as such.”
“Well, if you were not too busy admiring the marchioness’s scandalously exposed bosom, you would have noticed your guest was making suggestive glances at your sister. Whom, do I need to remind everyone, is soon to be engaged to the Duke of Downsbury. She’s to be a duchess and deserves—demands—to be respected as such.
“If no one in this God forsaken house can give it, then I will have her removed immediately and brought to the duke’s estate until they’re married. I will not have her debauched in any way, shape, or form.” Yes, she does demand to be respected, but she’ll be no duchess. That you can be sure of, Lady Thompson.
Both the marchioness and Emily threw their napkins and rose from the table.
“I have had quite enough of the insults, Nathaniel. If your mother cannot learn to be civil, then I will be in our chamber until she decides to depart.”
Emily did not say a word as she disappeared from the dining hall.
“Well, you’ve gone and done it now, you wretched woman. Be sure that you are gone from this house when I return downstairs. I will not have you upsetting everyone. Or have you forgotten you are a guest in this house, as we
ll? You may have been lady of the house once upon a lifetime ago, but my marchioness will not be disgraced and insulted in her own home. Dining with us is a privilege you’ll have to earn again, Mother.”
Nathaniel stormed out the door, leaving Charles with a woman who detested him as much as he did her.
The countess growled and gritted her teeth. For the briefest of moments, the sour woman reminded him of a rabid dog.
There was a reason Avonlea admired his friend. The man had conviction and was not afraid to call anyone out on their misgivings. He gave everyone the benefit of the doubt before passing judgment. And best of all, he loved his wife like no other man.
Charles doubted he would fall to such an affliction, but somehow envied Nathaniel’s position. What would it be like for him and Emily if they could marry? Would she love him the same way Isabel did Nathaniel? And would they have as harmonious a home?
Not once over these last few years had he considered the thought of marrying. It was not until last year did he notice how much of beautiful young woman Emily had turned out to be, despite her antics. A house full of children would benefit from a mother who knew how to have fun, but also knew when they were getting into mischief.
He had not much experience in playing with other children as a child, unless his mother took him to tea parties and such. His father, who had passed untimely due to illness before he turned the age of ten and three, did not do much with him either. The man had spent hours pouring over his accounts and on social calls with the other gents in his circle.
On occasion, he was invited to learn how to play cards whenever his family entertained. Sadly, those were the only interactions with his parents he remembered.
Their love for each other had been evident in everything they did and said. Not once had he heard rumors of his father straying, and every time his mother attended society events, his father was right beside her. They had always made a united appearance, and much to the ton’s dismay, they could never find a scandal to touch his family name.
“Duncan, my good man. Breakfast was excellent. It has been a long time since I have eaten here, and I am pleased to say it still tastes as great as I remember it. Can you please have my horse readied? I will be leaving at once.”
“Yes, my lord.”
He went to stand, but the countess smacked her palm on the table and glared daggers at him. “Do be seated, Lord Avonlea. I am not quite finished with you yet.”
Good grief, how could she not be finished when he was quite done with her and her idiocy? “My lady, not to be rude, but I have important appointments I must keep.”
“And I do not give two figs about your appointments. I will only speak my peace once, and the rest will be up to you to decide whether you care or not. You will never be good enough for Emily. She was born to be a duchess, and if you so much as compromise her position in society, there will not be a hovel large enough to hide you. I will find you and ensure your body is never recovered. Now, do what you will with the information, but I have it on good authority, this will be the last time you set your eyes upon my Emily before she becomes a duchess.”
“If you are quite done, I will not stand to threats by you or the duke.”
The gravity of the situation was becoming quite apparent. The dowager countess was hell bent on elevating her status, and she was using her naïve daughter to do so. Emily would not be safe—not until she was his.
The revelation rippled through his mind. Charles was furious and shocked. Emily would be his. And no matter the cost, he had to expose the duke for the fraud he truly was.
Chapter Six
The Duke of Downsbury paced in his office, shooting his man of affairs a glance. He paused at a sideboard to pour himself a hefty dose of port. “Has there been any word from my solicitor?”
“No, sir, other than his original missive advising Signore Trovatelli was at the dock, waiting for his next shipment.”
The duke stifled a groan. He had not expected to be engaged so soon, and he most certainly had hoped another girl would have been ready by now to send off to the Italian pig. Were it not for their previous arrangement, and the possibility of others knowing of their dealings, he would have had the foreigner anchored to the bottom of the Thames.
He swallowed back his entire drink, belched, and returned to his desk. Reaching for a sheet of vellum, he scribed.
Be prepared to send our visitor packing. And do be sure this one will keep him busy for a while. My future bride will not be ready for some time, and I do not want him returning until we send for him.
Be cautious with the delivery as well. Absolute discretion in your next meeting must be key. Neither one of us is prepared to deal with a scandal of this magnitude.
The duke sealed his message with wax, and held it out. “See that he receives this immediately. I am growing terribly impatient with his inability to meet deadlines.”
“Right away, sir.”
The quiet, middle-aged servant hobbled out of the room to see the missive’s delivery. Were it not for his dreadful fall from a horse last year, the duke would have sent the man out on many more duties, as he trusted the man with his life. But fate, as it were, was determined to hinder his success in any way possible.
What he needed was time, and he was running out of it. The quicker he had Emily’s dowry, the sooner he would send her packing and buy the Italian out of his own business. He did not like the idea of working for anyone, let alone some foreigner.
Richard swallowed hard. Fate had gifted him with his wife’s tragic accident. She would never learn of his dealings with the chief prosecutor, nor would she ever discover that they were on the verge of losing their estates.
Until this deal with the Italian was finished, he had to keep up appearances. Once he owned all sides of the business, his debts would be paid, and he could return to sampling some of the tons talented ladies.
Thompson’s sister would be a problem, though. Considering she lacked experience, his threshold for patience would be tested. Perhaps he would try the same method that he introduced Cordelia too. He remembered her resistance at first all too well.
“Come my dear, I have a friend I would like you to meet.”
“Richard, it is late, and it is highly improper to entertain at this hour.”
“My dear, you will learn very fast that nothing is improper in my house. Now, come. That is an order.”
She walked toward him warily. Stopping dead center in the hall, she appeared to be listening for which direction a conversation between a man and woman were coming from. When they reached the room, Cordelia questioned her entrance with a glare.
Downbury waved his hand for her to enter. The moment she opened the door, her shriek rang throughout the house. What was supposed to be a discreet liaison with their guests would surely now be speculated by his staff.
“Come now dear, let us not pretend that the thought of the four of us is not exciting.” He took her hand, pressing it against his cock. “I promise darling, once you have tried, you will never object to entertaining more than myself.”
His duchess broke out into tears. Winston nodded at the Cyprian to approach and console his naiive wife. At first glance, the embrace had been meant out of friendship, but when the woman slipped Cordelia’s gown down and began to kiss her, he had been most impressed. He loved watching two women caressing each other. Their delicate kisses, embraces, and touching countered the hard fuck they would earn.
The duke had such high hopes for his duchess. Though, when she failed to produce an heir, what else was he supposed to do? Bedding her became boring, too predicable, and her moods irritated him so. His affairs were meant to serve as a distraction for what waited for him when he returned home.
When he first learned of her own dalliances, he desired nothing more than to call out each and every one of the lords that dared touch his property. Then, much to his chagrin, he discovered her condition. The wench had to be dealt with. He could not have his reputation ruine
d, which was why her exile to the country would have been perfect. Needless to say, things worked themselves out.
* * * *
Charles leaned back at his chair at White’s, carefully scrutinizing the way his somber, gray-eyed friend stared at amber liquid swirling around in his glass. “The brandy is meant to be drunk, or have you lost the taste to drown your sorrows?”
His friend smirked, closed his eyes, and shook his head. “I need to move on, Avonlea. This,” he held up his drink, “will not bring her back from her watery grave.”
Then, Wycliffe set it down and stared at him. “Why are we really here? I am sure you did not want to meet me to hear about my problems. Though, I do owe you an apology of sorts and my thanks. You did the right thing in dragging me out of Martine’s establishment.”
An uneasy feeling settled in Avonlea’s gut. He had thought of that night many times over and how his friend spoke of the duke. If only he had any knowledge of how troublesome the duke was, he might be able to prove to Lady Thompson that marrying her daughter to his grace was a mistake.
“No thanks is needed, my friend. That is what friends do. And even in the lowest of times, to pull a man up and carry him home is required upon occasion. I do have questions, but not related to your private business with the duchess.”
Wycliffe raised his eyebrows then lifted the glass to take a swig. “Carry on then.”
“You mentioned that night that the duke meant to do something to her, but instead sent her to the country. What did he intend to do to her, and do you think he’s likely to try it again?”
“Good grief, man, I thought you said it was not directly about Cordelia. Christ.” He leaned forward and gripped the glass ‘til his knuckles blanched. “I have it on good authority the arse was going to put her on the next ship to the continent and sell her to an Italian brothel.
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