She went upstairs before him, and after an agony of indecision, she finally slid into the bed they had once shared, quaking as though she were a bride. She had no idea what his reaction would be when he saw her, but she didn’t have long to wait. He came upstairs, stopping short as soon as he saw her.
‘What’s this? Pity for the poor patient, or are you trying to hasten the end?’ he said sarcastically.
‘Ben, don’t be so full of hate,’ she whispered. ‘Please – can’t we give ourselves another chance?’
He was silent for a moment, then he spoke coldly. ‘No, I don’t think we can. It’s best that we carry on as we’ve been doing for the last few months. I’ve discovered that a life of celibacy suits me.’
‘And what of me? Or aren’t women supposed to have needs and feelings?’
The fact that he didn’t want her spurred her to anger. She was as good as sacrificing herself, and he was tossing her aside.
‘My love, if you’ve such need of a man, then I suggest you go and find one. I’m sure there would be plenty willing to oblige,’ he taunted.
She leapt out of bed and struck him hard across the face. If she opened up the scar, she wouldn’t care. If she killed him, she wouldn’t care… he pulled her into his arms and kissed her cruelly on the mouth, and the passion he had once shown her was all hate. There was nothing else.
Morwen gave a dry sob and rushed from the room. All she wanted was to be alone, to bury her head beneath her own bedcovers and try to forget the utter humiliation of Ben’s rejection. She tasted salt in her mouth as bitter tears stung her bruised lips, and if it was the wickedest thing she did in her life, she prayed that this situation wouldn’t go on for much longer. She couldn’t bear it. She simply couldn’t bear it.
* * *
Another Tremayne echoed the same words the following day, but for a different reason. Venetia had agreed to come to Freddie’s rooms for afternoon tea that day, and he had been drinking to give himself courage.
He was trying to put the memory of his visit to Madame Tania’s out of his mind, while wrestling with another problem that was allied to it. He knew now how stupid he had been. Some men might be able to find relief in the arms of a whore, but it hadn’t been relief he sought. It was merely knowledge, so that he wouldn’t disgrace himself with his beloved Venetia.
And now that it had failed, he was wondering how he could possibly ask her to marry him, unless he confessed everything. The shock of his first glimpses of sexuality, the brutal insults of Neville Peterson, his fear of impotence over the intervening years; the desperation that had led him to Madame Tania’s.
He couldn’t bear to live with the knowledge that physical love might never be possible for him. But Freddie was too honest a man to go into marriage with this lovely girl without hinting to her of the risks, at the very least. It could all be a farce, and if it was, their future life would be unbearable.
In Freddie’s large family, his own parents had set warm and loving standards. In the nature of things, he expected, like the rest of them, that in time he would marry and be the father of children. He went cold all over, wondering if he was to be denied such a basic pleasure.
Venetia was made of the same stuff as his sister, Freddie thought, as he made clumsy attempts to make his table as elegant as anyone’s. She was strong and spirited, and quite ready to defy convention whenever necessary, as long as it didn’t affect anyone else. Otherwise, she would never have dreamed of coming here today without a chaperone. But she was coming very soon, and Freddie knew he owed her the truth, whatever the outcome.
He heard her light step on the stairs leading up from the rear entrance to his rooms, and dried his damp palms on the sides of his trousers as he went to open the door for her.
‘Freddie, how lovely!’ she exclaimed at once as she saw the neatly-laid table, with small cakes and slices of bread and preserves, and a pot ready for the tea. ‘A bachelor’s lone existence is obviously a useful background for a married man!’
She teased him, her grey eyes sparkling as she removed her bonnet and cape and allowed him to span her waist with his hands. There was no guile about her. This was the man she loved and wanted to marry, and it enchanted her to know that his feelings matched hers exactly.
But after a very satisfactory kiss, she looked searchingly into his eyes. It was a look that instantly reminded Freddie of Morwen. She too, sensed things with uncanny accuracy, and was just as perceptive.
‘What is it, my love? Is something troubling you? Are you regretting inviting me here for our little tête-à-tête? I promise you, I shan’t tell, if you don’t, and I’m sure that my reputation will be quite intact!’
His hands tightened on her waist. For a moment his voice was bitter. ‘Yes, sweetheart, I’m very much afraid it will.’
She looked at him in astonishment. She had expected a deliciously flirtatious afternoon, perhaps more daring than previous meetings with this tall handsome man. They considered themselves already unofficially betrothed, and even if the ultimate happened, it would make no difference to her respect for him. It was hardly something a young lady could tell a gendeman in words, of course, but surely Freddie must know… didn’t men instinctively know these things?
‘Are you going to tell me what’s wrong, or are we going to play guessing games all afternoon?’ she said lightly. ‘Let me see! Your brother Matt has insulted you by not wanting to stay here with you; or young Cresswell’s looked down his nose at your being a mere shopkeeper, odious little wretch; or it’s none of those things, and something far more personal.’ She paused for breath, still in the circle of his arms, her last words seductive and inviting. Freddie heard her breath quicken and felt her heartbeat against his, and ached for her.
‘It’s far more personal,’ he said slowly.
She caught her breath. ‘You haven’t fallen out of love with me, have you?’ She gave a shaky laugh.
He didn’t laugh back. He merely held her closer, as if the words wouldn’t come immediately. And she saw that this was something very serious after all. Not some fatal illness, she thought fearfully. Or a previous attachment that meant they could never marry. Or some close family relationship between the Hockings and the Tremaynes that had come to light, preventing their marriage…
Venetia moved out of his arms and sat down on the sofa, looking up at him.
‘Why don’t you just tell me, Freddie? I can’t do anything to help unless I know what the problem is.’
He sat heavily beside her, not touching her.
‘I never wanted to tell you. It’s too embarrassing to tell anyone. But I can’t marry you unless you know—’
Her stomach churned. It must be some ghastly affliction to make him so agitated. She couldn’t bear to see him like this. She loved him so much… she took his hand in hers.
‘Whatever it is, Freddie, the worry will be halved if you share it with me. And who better to share it with than someone who loves you? Please, darling, don’t make me think it’s something terrible. Please tell me.’
‘Just promise me one thing. That you’ll listen until the end.’
‘I promise I’ll sit still without interrupting – if you’ll only begin.’
He gave a short laugh. ‘I’m not going to shock ’ee with words, my dearest, just wi’ my inadequacy.’
She twisted her face to look at him. She wasn’t stupid, and knew instantly what he meant. That bitterness alone would have told her, even more than the words.
‘I don’t believe it,’ she said, but his embarrassment was becoming hers too, and she found it difficult to explain. ‘I mean, I’ve had proof, Freddie. When we’ve been close – I know you’ve been – I’ve experienced—’
Even Venetia’s outspokenness deserted her now. How could she say that she had felt his body harden against hers? How could she say she knew what it meant for a man to be aroused by a woman, and had been thrilled by the knowledge that she could do this for Freddie?
‘You mean you k
now that I’ve frequently had an erection?’
Without warning, the crudeness of the word was there between them, and she nodded dumbly. Did he think such a natural bodily function was so wrong? She was blindly aware now that whatever his imagined shame, it was fundamental to both their lives, and that the time for teasing was long past.
‘You’ve been around horses, Venetia. You know that even animals can get erections that never get past that stage.’
‘Freddie—’ she said faintly.
He was suddenly furious with the whole rotten business. He was furious with himself for going to a whore and proving the worst. He was furious with Venetia for being the catalyst that shamed his very masculinity. He’d have been better to remain celibate – which was undoubtedly what he was destined to be – without ever half-discovering the delights of a woman…
‘Look, you want to know what’s wrong, so I’ll tell you,’ he said savagely. ‘I warn you, it’s not pretty telling. It started when I was a very impressionable thirteen-year-old, and hoping to go away to a posh London college on a scholarship, since my teachers thought I was so bright—’
‘Really? How exciting. And did you go?’ Venetia said. He glared at her.
‘You promised not to interrupt. No, I didn’t go. They couldn’t have dragged me there.’
He expected a comment then, but she said nothing. Her thoughts were spinning, trying to anticipate what he was going to tell her, so that she wouldn’t appear too shocked after all… she could see that Freddie’s nerves were very fragile at the moment, and she tried to keep her face expressionless. Inside, she wept as the tale unfolded, and she could see that Freddie lived through it again in the telling.
‘I assumed the memory of him and his insults would go in time,’ the words were flooding out now. ‘It never did. Even then I thought it would make no difference to me. It seemed only a matter of time before I found a woman to love, and then marriage and children would follow.’
He looked directly into her eyes now, and Venetia was filled with pain at the agony she saw there.
‘But?’ she whispered, when he seemed unable to continue.
‘But then I had more doubts,’ the harshness was back in his voice again. ‘I love you more than life, and I want you physically. God knows how I want you. But I fear failure so much. I’m not sure if I can take the risk of marrying you and not be a proper husband to you.’ Christ, but it sounded so weak, and Freddie hated himself even more.
Venetia rested her head on his shoulder. He could smell the flowery scent of her hair and the musky warmth of her body.
‘I would have taken that chance, Freddie—’
‘I know. But I wouldn’t. That’s why I had to know – to find out—’
This was the moment when she would really despise him, he thought fatalistically. But she had to know all of it, and he had to tell it. He said it as clinically as possible, leave nothing out. He told her of the excitement as well as the shame, and the final humiliation…
Her face was white when he had finished, and then she took his hand and cradled it against her cheek. Her voice was muffled, and passionate with emotion, and he could only just make out the words.
‘I’m glad you told me. I’m even glad you went to a whore and discovered that you’re not the kind of man who does no more than the beasts in the field can do. You’re a finer man than that, my love.’
He gave a bitter laugh. ‘There’s nothing fine about me!’
‘I won’t hear you say such things. I’ve no intention of marrying a weakling, and I have every intention of marrying you, Freddie Tremayne.’
Something inside him seemed to relax at her words. It was as though he had been constricted for half of his life by a band of steel that suddenly gave way, releasing him from all the tensions that were crushing him. And there was a new kind of exultation coursing through his veins.
‘You still want to marry me, even after hearing all this?’ he said huskily. ‘You’re willing to take that chance?’
Venetia swallowed. Very gently she moved Freddie’s hand from her cheek to cover her breast. He felt its softness beneath his palm, and the flickering response of the inexperienced nipple. There was no brashness of the prostitute in her innocent movement, no crudity of over-intimate surroundings. Venetia’s voice was breathy, her whole body an invitation.
‘Freddie darling, I don’t know anything about making love either. But I do know that the most important thing is that we should learn together. I don’t want a man who’s had a string of lovers showing him the way, and nor do we need any instruction. We just need love.’
The room was warm with the heat of the fire. The carpet was soft, and the tea things waited. And Freddie Tremayne proved beyond doubt to himself and his beloved, that he was a man after all.
* * *
Lord Cyril Hocking was still getting used to his new title. It was inherited from a distant cousin, but if the truth were told, he’d still rather be running his humble riding school for the children of the gentry, than living in this fine house and being obliged to entertain them. Still, he owed it to his girl to take up residence at Hocking Hall and give her every advantage of the new status that had come their way.
Though if she’d fallen for one of these chinless wonders who called themselves the huntin’, shootin’ and fishin’ set, he’d have had serious doubts about agreeing to it. His girl was a normal, healthy young woman, and she needed a real man, not a rich Daddy’s puppet, which was what Lord Cyril considered most of the ones he’d seen.
To his relief, Venetia had met up with this sparky young fellow, Freddie Tremayne, at one of his house bashes for the local dignitaries and tradespeople. Mixing them all together had become one of Cyril’s new delights, and seeing how the bigwigs were obliged to make polite conversation with the rest. He still chuckled at the memory. And he’d also made it his business to learn a lot about Freddie Tremayne during that evening.
It didn’t matter a jot to him that some of them looked down their noses at the Tremaynes and their upward progress in the world. He admired them for that. It made more sense of a man’s own ability than having grandeur thrust on him the way it had happened to himself. And if Freddie Tremayne was the man of his girl’s choice, then he’d be only too happy to hand her over to his marital keeping.
Besides, Lord Hocking had his own eye on a nice little woman who kept a needlecraft shop in the town, and if that was going to throw a few more hens in the pond if he decided to make her his Lady, he’d have a chuckle over that as well.
He hadn’t expected to see Freddie today. His daughter had gone into Truro on some errands, and said she’d probably have tea in a tea-room. Cyril considered himself a shrewd old boy, and if Venetia’s heightened colour meant an assignation with the young man at the chandlery, then good luck to her. Everybody had a right to their secrets in his opinion.
But now here they were, whirling into the drawing-room of this barn of a place, with Venetia glowing, and Freddie looking as though he’d just won a fortune. And it wasn’t all that hard to guess why…
‘Daddy, Freddie wants to ask you something,’ Venetia burst out at once. ‘Perhaps I should go and leave you two alone for a few minutes—’
‘There’s no need, my dear,’ Cyril said dryly. ‘Not if it’s what I think it is. And good afternoon to you, Mr Tremayne.’
‘Good afternoon, my Lord,’ Freddie said, praying that he wouldn’t go all tongue-tied now that the moment was here, and this spectacular girl was as eager to marry him as he was to have her. There was just this little hurdle of her father, and the uneasy thought that Lord Hocking might well want someone better-connected for his daughter…
‘Let’s have it, then. What’s this great question you’re about to ask me?’
Freddie squared his shoulders. He had overcome one great hurdle today. Two, really. The telling, and the doing. This was the third, and he wasn’t balking at it.
‘I want to marry Venetia, Sir. I know I’m not a
rich man, and we haven’t known each other long, but we love each other very much, and we both think that’s more important than material things. I’m not a pauper, but we shall obviously need a proper family home if you agree to our marriage, and it will be my first priority to find us a suitable house.’
He dried up, but the thought was in his mind that no splendid surroundings could ever be more dear to him that the warmth of a small room above his shop, where Venetia had become part of him. And a family home had a special meaning for him now.
‘Daddy, you will agree, won’t you?’ Venetia broke in. ‘If you don’t, you’ll have me around your neck for the rest of your life, because I shall never marry anyone else if I can’t have Freddie!’
Lord Hocking laughed. He walked briskly to a side table and poured three glasses of porter and handed them around before he said anything.
‘Then you’d better have him, my love. And you, young man, I hope you realize what a bossy young woman you’re taking on. Do you think you can handle her?’
Freddie looked over the top of his glass into his beloved’s eyes, and the love that flowed between them shut out everything else for a few blissful moments of remembering.
‘I know I can,’ he said softly. Venetia put down her glass after one sip, and flew into her father’s arms.
‘Oh Daddy, thank you for being so marvellous. We want to get married very soon. I do so want a June wedding, and if we haven’t found our house by then, we’ll live in Freddie’s rooms above the shop. Say you’ll agree to it all, please!’
‘I wouldn’t dare disagree.’ Cyril laughed at her excitement. ‘As for the house – choose it at your leisure, but it will be my wedding present to you.’
Freddie bristled at once. ‘Oh, no. It’s too much. We can’t accept a house—’
Family Ties Page 26
