The Substitute Countess

by Lyn Stone

  An elderly fellow and a portly woman, both in black stepped forward, bowed and curtsied.

  Mr. Hobson cleared his throat. “Mr. Trimble, the butler, Your Grace,” he said to Jack. “And Mrs. Mundy, housekeeper.”

  “Welcome to Elderidge House, milord, milady,” Trimble intoned in a sonorous voice. He gestured for them to proceed down the receiving line and took over introducing each staff member by name.

  Laurel tried to absorb it all as each bobbed in turn, but knew she would not remember. Still, she held a smile, met every eye and kept her chin up. Jack would not fault her for timidity this time, not if she could help it.

  “Milord, supper will be served in half an hour if that is acceptable,” Trimble announced.

  “Quite, thank you, Trimble,” Jack replied, taking Laurel’s arm. “Mrs. Mundy, if you would be so kind as to show us to our chambers?”

  The woman dipped and turned to lead the way up the winding marble staircase.

  Laurel determined she would not act impressed no matter how grand were their rooms. She figured they could hardly surpass the opulence of those at the town house anyway.

  She discovered she was wrong. The countess’s chamber was nearly twice the size and dressed completely in white with accents of periwinkle. Even the furniture had been painted white. The dark polished wood of the floor contrasted beautifully with the patterned rug of blue and white. The windows were nearly floor to ceiling with gorgeous toile hangings.

  She raked off her bonnet and looked up at Jack to see his reaction. He wore a frown.

  “This will do nicely,” she said in a blatantly bored tone. His lips quirked as if he were suppressing a sudden smile.

  As in the town house, a dressing room similar to the one in London separated the two bedchambers. The housekeeper led the way, opening the doors for them as she swished through. “Milord,” she said as she moved aside for him to enter his own room.

  Laurel followed. His room was a great deal larger, but decorated in greens and browns, much like the other in the city. She supposed those to be the former earl’s favored colors.

  Fires had been lit in both rooms but the warmth had not yet extended to the perimeter. It brought memories of the big chapel at the convent that was too large to warm with two fireholes blazing. She shivered just thinking of it.

  “Ooh, milady, you must be freezing! Come, let us change,” Betty whispered. Laurel jumped. She hadn’t realized that Betty had followed. But of course she had. That was her job. Behind her stood George, waiting for them to move so that he could attend Jack.

  Lord, would she and Jack ever be left alone again?

  She turned and went back into her own room, where a footman was depositing her two brand-new trunks full of the dresses and things she had purchased. Laurel also noticed the old tapestry bag she had brought all this way from the convent.

  Betty closed the dressing room door and shooed the footman out the other. Then she turned, fingertips to her lips as she giggled. “Have you ever?”

  Laurel shook her head, unable to pretend ennui a moment longer. “No, never,” she whispered as she looked in wonder around the room that was to be hers.

  “You must change now, mum,” Betty said, dropping to her knees beside one of Laurel’s trunks. “Let me shake out a gown for you. The pale pink one, you think?”

  “The sapphire,” Laurel answered, thinking of the livery worn by the help. Perhaps they would appreciate a lady who had taken note of the colors of Elderidge. One must begin somewhere.

  A half hour later, she entered the cavernous dining room on Jack’s arm. He escorted her to one end of the thirty-foot table and seated her, then proceeded to the other. Obviously someone had given him instructions on where to sit. Neville, probably.

  Laurel sighed. Mr. Hobson was not present, but then he was probably having a much more casual meal elsewhere, lucky man.

  Except for their servers, she and Jack would dine alone and probably in silence unless one of them decided to shout at the other down the length of the table. She could not even see him unless she leaned to look around the massive floral centerpiece.

  The London house began to seem cozy by comparison, Laurel thought as she ate methodically. She was cold in her bare-shouldered, nearly bare-breasted frock. Her head had begun to ache from holding her chin as high as possible. And her stomach roiled after eating the cold fish soup.

  Before the next offering was served, she started to wonder whether she would be expected to excuse herself shortly and allow him to remain by himself to enjoy port and a cigar. She fervently wished that she and Jack could dash upstairs hand in hand, blow out the lamps, huddle together and pretend they were not here in this grand old mausoleum.

  But perhaps he was enjoying all of this or felt he would come to do so. Laurel sighed when the next course was presented and it did not appear to be dessert. Her corset was too tight to allow more food anyway. She held up a hand and shook her head, refusing it.

  “Madame would care for something else?” the server murmured.

  She blinked hard and shook her head again. “No, madame is finished.” Then she pushed back her own heavy chair and stood.

  Jack rose immediately. “Laurel, are you unwell?” he asked as he quickly walked the length of the table to where she was. His brow furrowed as he reached for her hand.

  “I am very tired. Please excuse me and enjoy the remainder of your supper.”

  “Nonsense, I will accompany you upstairs and see that you aren’t ill.” He turned to the nearest server. “Send someone for Bet...Thornwhistle.”

  The footman looked confused.

  “Lady Laurel’s maid,” Jack clarified impatiently.

  Then he hurried her out and to the stairs. “Are you ill, Laurel?” he demanded as they ascended.

  “No,” she replied. “Only tired. It has been an exhausting day and the food was entirely too much for so late in the evening. We will gain two stone within the month.”

  He laughed softly and added in a near whisper, “I hope that was only the cook’s attempt to impress us and this won’t be an everyday affair. Dreadful, wasn’t it?”

  “Do you think we could order up a tray for every meal? I loathe that dining room,” she admitted.

  “Surely there is a more intimate arrangement to be had other than for formal occasions and I certainly hope there are few of those required.”

  “So do I!” Laurel began to enjoy their quiet conversation and the camaraderie fostered by their peculiar situation. She wished he had not sent someone to fetch Betty.

  How perfect it would be if he simply took her to her room and stayed on. The scent of him, the feeling of his warm hand linked with hers and his concern for her stirred Laurel’s need for further closeness.

  “I must meet with Hobson in a while,” he said, as if he had read her mind. “Shall I look in on you later?”

  Laurel smiled up at him and nodded, afraid to speak for fear a spoken invitation might seem too forward.

  “Later then,” he said as he opened her bedroom door for her and saw her inside.

  Finally, she thought as she pulled the pins from her hair, he would come to her as a husband. It was high time and she felt ready to become a wife in truth. She knew it might prove awkward but he would know what to do. There had been precious little physical affection in her life thus far and she hoped to find that with Jack.

  His kiss had stirred something that had lain dormant within her and his frequent touches, innocent as they had been, warmed her to near melting. The memory of his mouth on hers had not diminished at all, and he had such wonderful hands. She had been held in his arms of necessity a time or two. Now she wanted his embrace for real, not prompted by protection or comfort, but by desire.

  He kept delaying for some reason, but she knew that he wanted her, at least some of the time. Perhaps she would choose one of those times and become the instigator. One thing she did know, she was heartily tired of waiting for life to sweep her along this way and th
at.

  Her father had sent her away. The nuns had secured her employment. Jack had spirited her away and arranged their marriage. Perhaps it was time she chose a direction for herself instead of waiting for things to happen to her and trying so hard to react correctly when they did.

  She smoothed her hands over her breasts as they swelled beneath the blue silk of her bodice. Would he touch her there? Laurel felt uncomfortably confined in the tightly laced corset and gown.

  Jack had told her that her mother was not of good repute. She had been labeled a cyprian, one of the fashionable impure. Laurel wondered if perhaps she had inherited her mother’s wanton ways. If so, at least she could satisfy those leanings within the married state, and no one but Jack need ever know.

  He might not see her as wanton since he had probably never had a highborn lady in his bed. His experience had likely been with women who earned their living by offering pleasure. She would not be adept at it, given she knew so little about such things. But then, Sister Josephina had always remarked on how quickly Laurel learned new skills.

  The thought made Laurel smile. She wrapped her arms around herself, fell back onto the white silken counterpane and waited for Betty to come and undress her.

  * * *

  Two hours later, that was how Jack found her. He almost left her to sleep, but couldn’t bring himself to do so this time. Hadn’t that wordless welcome in her eyes qualified as a near demand? Well, perhaps not, but it certainly gave him a good excuse to see whether she was serious about it or simply testing her flirting skills.

  She came awake slowly as he removed her slippers. “Jack?” she murmured as she rubbed her eyes. “La, I’m still dressed!”

  “I didn’t mean to wake you. Betty can’t be found and neither can George.”

  She sat up. “They’re missing?”

  He nodded as he set her slippers aside and sat with her on the bed. “I suspect it’s on purpose.”

  “An assignation?” she asked, biting her bottom lip to keep from smiling. “I hadn’t noticed an attachment.”

  “Neither have I, but that seems to be the case.”

  “Whatever should we do?” she asked, and again he saw the invitation he thought he’d imagined earlier. He figured she would not have that slumberous look in her eyes if she were still indisposed and wished him to leave.

  Chapter Ten

  “We might have to fend for ourselves tonight,” he said, pulling a fake frown. “However on earth will we manage?”

  Laurel pursed her lips and shot him an inquisitive look. “Do you mean to undress me yourself?”

  “Oh, very well, I’ll help you out, but I’ll need instructions,” he said with a sigh. “And I suppose you’ll have to do for me, as well.”

  “Only fair I should,” she replied as she slid off the bed and stood with her back to him. “Laces, please.”

  Slowly, enjoying every small tug, he drew the blue woven cord through the four embroidered eyelets until it came completely free. With his thumbs, he slid the sleeves off her arms and the blue gown puddled on the floor around her stocking feet.

  “There now,” he crooned, smoothing the length of her arms with his palms. “And what is this contraption?”

  “A torture device obviously invented by a man who hated all females,” she informed him with a breathless little laugh.

  “We should divest you of it immediately, hunt down this fellow and hang him,” he said, his voice soft and deep. “Allow me.”

  He untied the petticoat attached to the corset, then repeated the unlacing, a bit faster this time. They stood so close, the lilac scent of her had enveloped him in some sort of erotic spell. He did not want to hurry, and yet he did want to.

  She liked the teasing nature of his seduction, and Jack was glad. This could prove uncomfortable for the both of them if she turned shy and frightened. Her mood seemed almost playful. Odd, for a virgin, but he appreciated her courage.

  He bowed to kiss her shoulder. She leaned to give him better access, and he trailed his lips to her neck, tasting the smooth creaminess of her skin. Her slight shiver felt more like anticipation than fear.

  Jack peeled the corset from the wrinkled shift she wore underneath and tossed it aside. Her body felt warm beneath his hands as he slid his palms over her waist and ribs, soothing away the garment’s constriction. “You are so slender, you need no enhancement,” he whispered close to her ear. “So beautiful.” He tried to bite back the word that had angered her before, but it had slipped out.

  She did not seem to mind it this time, he thought with a satisfied smile. He continued to caress her, slowly moving to the underside of her breasts, then cupping them, teasing the tips. He felt her inhale sharply, so he changed direction and palmed her abdomen instead. Her body undulated slightly. “Ticklish?” he asked, his mouth against her ear, and followed with a nibble there.

  “No.” She turned her head, seeking his mouth, and he complied, kissing her softly as he turned her body around to meet his. Fire caught in his belly as her tongue met his in bolder exploration than expected. Not too fast, his reason warned, and Jack drew away from her slightly, ending the kiss.

  He smiled down at her as he plucked the pins from her hair and dropped them to the floor one by one. Her pale tresses tumbled around her shoulders and he stroked that sweet scented silk with the back of his hand. “Eagerness becomes you. Have a care you aren’t ravished.”

  Her eyes widened and she ducked her head, but he framed her face in his hands and lifted her lips to his again, varying the intensity, shifting the connection, tasting her fully, then nipping softly at each lip. She made a sound of impatience and he smiled inwardly.

  He felt her hands on his shoulders, fingers plucking at his coat. “Ah, so it’s my turn,” he murmured against her mouth. He loved that she made no secret of her need. No coy posturing, no pretense at all.

  When he released her, she placed her thumbs beneath his lapels and pushed the coat off his shoulders. He let it drop to the floor and watched her face as she examined his neckcloth, then untied it. Next she unbuttoned his waistcoat and slid her hands beneath it to embrace him again.

  Her cheek brushed against his shirtfront. For a long moment, he simply enjoyed the feel of her warm breath at his chest and the way her breasts pushed against his body.

  If he didn’t have her soon, it would be a swift coupling when it did come about.

  He took her arms and moved her away so he could remove the waistcoat and slip the shirt over his head. Her hands immediately returned to slide over his chest and shoulders as he bared them.

  It was as if she had never seen a man unclothed before, and Jack knew that must be true. Where would she have done? Again he reminded himself she was an innocent, dependent upon him to guide and instruct, protect and pamper.

  By her own admission, she knew little of what this event would entail, possibly not enough to fear it. “Shall I explain what we will do?” he asked softly.

  “Show me,” she murmured, her attention and fingers now on the buttons of his trouser flap. Jack almost laughed at his estimation of her. She might be untried, but she definitely was not shy in this regard. However he did not want his trousers trapped around his ankles, so he removed her hands, raised them to his lips and kissed them. “Boots first,” he explained.

  She watched as he sat in her desk chair and tugged off his Hessians. He removed his stockings, as well, all the while keeping an eye on her reactions. Her hands were fisted in the fabric of her shift. Perhaps she was a bit apprehensive. “You aren’t afraid, are you?”

  She shook her head, still watching avidly every move he made.

  He stood and shucked off his trousers, allowing her to look as she would. Only fair that he should let her become accustomed before she bared everything to him. Jack had never been overly modest, but he did feel a bit self-conscious at the moment. He expected she would be a little frightened since he was in a full state of readiness.

  She turned away, fingertips pr
essed to her lips. “My. That is not at all as I envisioned.” Her voice faltered a bit. Was she laughing? Gasping?

  “What?” he demanded, approaching to turn her back around so he could see her face. And so that she could not view him naked again with that expression. He wasn’t certain if her wide-eyed look had been one of wonder or horror. “What did you expect, then?”

  She bit her bottom lip and shook her head again before answering. “I saw this statue,” she said finally, brushing against him. The soft material of her shift raked his erection. “At the hacienda. It had, well...less.” The back of her hand touched his member. He almost lost control. Was this teasing deliberate or a product of her innocence and curiosity? The question incited him even more.

  “You play with fire,” he warned, smiling as he closed his eyes, inhaling the wonderful scent of her, loving the very sound of her breath and how uneven it was at the moment. And her touch, deliberate, or so he thought. “I think you are seducing me and I had such plans....”

  Her tentative laugh was as soft as her skin. “Do you still think to carry them out?” she asked.

  “Indeed,” he groaned.

  A knock at the door jerked him out of his trance. “I will throttle whoever that is,” he muttered. Then he shouted, “Go away!”

  She jumped at his sudden exclamation and stood apart from him as she glanced at the door.

  Jack strode naked to the portal and turned the key in the lock with a loud snicking sound. He marched to the dressing room door and did the same, fully aware that she was following his every move with undivided interest.

  When he turned back to her, she was covering her mouth with her hand, laughter in her eyes. Minx. He returned to her and grasped the hem of her shift, divesting her of it immediately. “There now.”

  She covered herself with her arms and hands.

  “You’ve seen me,” he challenged. “Fair’s fair.”

  She ducked her head, then looked up at him. “I’ve not even seen myself but twice.”