by Matilda Hart
He was a man who took his pleasure where he willed, and he had always had the pick of the ladies to grace his bed. But now it seemed he had lost that desire to graze freely among fields of willing female flesh. He only appeared to want one woman’s flesh, and it could never be his. He wondered idly, as sleep eluded him, if Lottie had had sufficient a change of heart as to want him as desperately as he was beginning to want her. He told himself it was a foolish desire. He admonished himself for being so immature, like a child who wants the sweeties in the jar the more he is denied them. Lottie was out of bounds, and he was a man of honor, despite his reputation.
Having secured a book from the study before retiring, and finding himself unable to sleep, he got out of bed and sat in the armchair by the fire. Might as well do something else, he thought, and began to read. It was a dry-as-dust tome, but he waded through it, until a sound made him listen more keenly to the silent house. It was muffled, but very clear. Someone else was awake. Rising, he dropped the book on the chair and walked to his door to listen. The hall seemed quiet, but he opened the door anyway and stepped into the hallway.
There it was again...groans. Was someone in pain? He moved toward the sound, passing by his cousin’s suite. the groans grew louder, and a second set of sounds could be heard...mewling, like a cat in pain. Suddenly, Ryde knew what he was hearing. The sounds rendered him at once impossibly hard and unreasonably angry. He wanted to be the one between the lady’s legs. He wanted to be the one groaning into her mouth. He wanted to be the one making her moan in passion.
Turning sharply on his heels, he retraced his steps and retrieved his robe before closing the door again and making his way swiftly down to the study. It was on the far side of the house...no chance of hearing anything there. He would wait for an hour or so before returning to his own rooms. Helping himself to his cousin’s best whiskey, he did his best to refrain from thinking about what Snowley and his wife were doing above stairs. That way lay madness.
Chapter 5 -- Charlotte
Gray light suffused the room as Lottie finally dragged herself out of bed. It was too early to be stirring, but she had tossed and turned for hours and found no rest. Her husband, true to his word, had come to her in the night and taken his fill of her body. She was sore and hurting, the worst of the pain being centered in her chest. She rubbed it absently as she wrapped her dressing gown around her and settled herself in the chair by the fire. She had hoped that their intimate relations would have been easier to bear this time around, but she had been wrong. While the physical pain had been significantly less, she had not wished to submit herself to his hard body, but she knew her duty, and when he had thrust into her hard she had managed keep the sounds she made to quiet moaning.
Had anyone heard them? The question had played over and over in her mind as John took his pleasure, and though he spoke kind words to her, there was no pleasure in his touch. He seemed to want something from her that she was unable to give, most likely because she was ignorant as to what it might be. Eventually, he had reached his fulfillment, grunting and sweating above her, his groans so loud in her ear she was mortified to think that anyone could hear them and know at once what they were about.
The thought that Ryde may have heard made tears spring to her eyes. She dashed them away furiously. She had no business caring what he thought, or wishing she had lain beneath him a few hours before. She was married to another, and it was her duty to find ways to give him pleasure, in thankfulness for his kindness in bestowing the largesse of his holdings and his name upon her. And yet, the ache persisted. One moment in Ryde’s company last evening, one dance, and she had been all aquiver. Why could she not have those same feelings for John, who was kind and caring, and whose name she bore?
Sighing heavily, she waited for her maid to appear so she could wash the stink and sweat and juices of her husband, now thankfully dried, off her body. Her cheeks colored as she realized that if she could smell the sex on herself, then no doubt so would Alice. There was no cause for embarrassment...she was married to the man who made her smell like an unwashed chamber pot. Was that how she was supposed to smell? How thoroughly unpleasant, she thought, and ran through the fragrances she had bought, trying to decide which she would add to her bath water and rub into her skin after. And what would she wear to hide the signs of congress between her husband and herself from the too-knowing eyes of all assembled, and especially of Ryde?
Thinking of him made her more melancholy than before. How would she face him at the breakfast table? She couldn’t cry off this morning. She was as fit as a fiddle. Her thoughts whirled around in her head, and she found no satisfactory solution to anything but the scent she would use to remove the odor of sex from her person. Alice came and was dispatched to fetch water for her bath, and while that was being arranged, she chose her gown for the morning After her bath, Alice helped her dress in a demure gown of primrose yellow, and arranged her hair in tidy knots atop her head. when she felt ready to face the world, she asked,
“Is everyone already waiting, Alice?”
“No, Your Grace. Lord Ryde and the master have gone riding.”
“Very well. Thank you, Alice.”
Lottie made her way down the grand staircase and found the others making their way to the dining room.
“Ah, good morning, Your Grace,” Bates said, spying her as she walked through the door. “His Grace has instructed that we start breakfast without him. He and Lord Ryde have gone into the village.”
“Thank you, Bates. Good morning.” She turned her brightest, most charming smile on the group, and took her seat. Although the thought of food made her feel nauseated, she managed to eat a boiled egg and some bread and fruit with her tea. After breakfast, she visited with the ladies, who all asked after her health.
“I am perfectly well this morning,” she said. “It must just have been a case of exhaustion. I had not slept well the night before.”
“Nor last night, either, by the look of things,” Lady Farley said, smiling slyly at her. The other women tittered, even her mother, and Lottie fought not to blush. She knew they could have heard nothing, so the woman’s comment was idle speculation, which she would ignore.
“Do you know what your husband and cousin have gone off to do in the village?” Regina asked, coming to her rescue.
Lottie shot her a grateful glance. “No, I can’t say. Perhaps it has something to do with the meeting between the millers and the weavers?”
“I think you may be right,” her mother said, “though why your father is not with them escapes me.”
“Perhaps they wanted to meet with cooler heads first, Mama,” she replied, only half joking. The look her mother shot her might have made her quail in the past, but now she was married, she returned it with a level stare. “In any event, we shall all be here for dinner, except for the Farleys, who must return home today.”
Lady Farley scowled, as though she did not wish to be reminded of her soon departure. “Why men can’t plan their business to be more in tune with their social engagements I cannot fathom,” she complained.
“They can be quite heedless,” her mother intoned, and the other women nodded sagely.
None seemed inclined to take up their embroidery, and when Lottie suggested a walk, only Regina seemed interested. She supposed the others would remain gossiping about whatever took their fancy, and she hoped she would never become so bored with her life that she was reduced to speculating about other people’s marital relations.
She took herself off with Regina, who turned out to be quite an interesting and amusing companion. They talked of politics, a subject Lottie stayed away from in the company of men. Regina was of the opinion that the Luddites were a real threat that the gentry needed to pacify.
“They do have rights, you know, and we do depend on their workmanship. Besides, how are they to feed their families without the means to make the money?”
“You are right, of course,” Lottie agreed. “But it seems clear to m
e that the millers do not wish to share the spoils. They want to keep most of it for themselves.”
Regina eyed her closely. “Your own father is a miller. Is that his intent?”
“Oh, no doubt,” Lottie agreed. “It has ever been the way in my house...always the money to be made.”
She could still feel Regina’s eyes on her. “So, what do you think of Ryde, now that you know him a bit better?”
Lottie felt the color climb up her cheeks, and she turned her head away, to give herself time to get in control.
“He seems to be…” she struggled to find a word to describe the man she was having such unruly thoughts about. “...quite pleasant,” she ended.
“He seems to be quite taken with you, as well,” was Regina’s comment.
Lottie stopped in her tracks, looking at the woman who also stopped. “What do you mean ‘as well’?” she asked.
Regina laughed. “Ryde has never paid as much attention to any woman as he has paid to you in the last two days, my dear,” she said. “At least, if the rumors about him are to be believed. And you are as easy to read as the morning papers.”
Striving to keep her color and her tone even, Lottie said, “I wasn’t aware that he was paying any special attention to me.”
“No one else is, either, for which you should be thankful. John is a very unassuming man, but he will kill Ryde of he ever makes a move toward you. John keeps what’s his.”
Lottie was speechless. She hunted around for something to say, but nothing came. Regina continued, as if sensing her distress.
“It’s such a pity that you did not meet Ryde first,” she said. “I am sorry for the two of you, my dear.” Her smile was genuinely sympathetic. “Now then, let’s go back indoors. The morning has turned chilly.”
For the rest of the day, Lottie fretted over Regina’s words. How has she managed to get herself in such a fix that a stranger could see she had feelings for Ryde? What would happen if John found out? Her father? She shuddered as she got ready for dinner, and was so tense all throughout that she barely managed to eat anything. Thankfully, no one seemed to notice, for which she was grateful. After dinner, she sat with the other women and let their talk flow over her. Again, she was grateful for their inattention, and though she recognized that she was being a poor hostess, there seemed little that she could do about it. Thankfully, the odious Lady Farley and her poor husband had left earlier, so Lottie did not have to suffer any further embarrassment from her indecorous comments.
Later, after Alice had left and she was alone in her room, she wondered of Ryde knew of her interest. If Regina knew, then surely he must, too. How humiliating it would be if it were not reciprocated! Sensing yet another sleepless night ahead, she went once more to the study, this time for another volume of poetry. She could do without the awful effects of too much brandy. Taking a well-worn tome from the shelf, she made her way cautiously back to her rooms, and was about to open her door when Ryde stepped into the hallway. She made a startled sound. The very sight of him was doing things to her that she seemed unable to control. She hurried into her room, closing the door behind her.
Sleep was elusive, and all she managed to do was doze for an hour or so, before her husband was telling her he would be back in three days, and enjoining her to be safe until he returned. A gentle kiss on her cheek, and he was gone. She dozed a little again, and then Alice was there to help her get ready for her day. The Arnesses were leaving later in the day as were her parents. That left Regina and Ryde. After lunch, her mother kissed her goodbye and reminded her that she was due for a visit soon. Then the carriages drove away with more house guests, and Lottie found herself alone in the sitting room with Regina and Ryde. She told Bates there would be three for dinner, and wondered how they would spend their time. Ryde excused himself and disappeared into her husband’s study. Regina, surprisingly, pulled out some needlework.
“I don’t mind if you spend a little time getting to know you cousin better, while I’m here, you know,” she informed Lottie calmly as she began to work on the needlepoint.
“He seemed to wish to be alone,” Lottie replied. “Besides, what excuse would I give for barging in there?”
“Who says you need an excuse, my dear? This is your home. You are free to go where you will, when you choose. Dinner won’t be for a few more hours. I’m sure he won’t mind being disturbed for at least part of that time.”
“Perhaps, after I exchange this book for something less weighty,” she hedged, and Regina laughed.
“As you wish, my dear.”
Heading to the study, Lottie tried to rehearse a suitable speech to explain her temerity in barging in on Ryde. Squaring her shoulders, she reminded herself that this was her house, as Regina had pointed out, and she could do what she wished without having to make excuses. With a false sense of bravado, she opened the door, and closed it quietly behind her. Ryde appeared to have left, and she decided that the feeling in her chest was relief, not disappointment. Searching the shelves, she found a slim book titled Self Control by Mary Brunton. She needed to learn more of that, she thought, and turned to make her way out.
Ryde stood by the doorway, his arms across his chest, watching her.
“What have you chosen, Lottie?” he asked. “John’s collection doesn’t seem to have much in it to interest a young woman of your quick wit.”
Lottie blushed; she could not stop herself. “It’s just a slim volume, to keep me company at night, when I cannot sleep,” she said, avoiding a direct answer.
To let him know she was reading about self control would give away far more information than she was prepared to let him have. But when he moved away from the door and approached her, she knew the game was up.
“Let me see,” he said, and reached for the book.
Lottie handed it to him and sank into the chair next to the desk, her legs feeling suddenly quite unable to support her.
“What could a young woman like you possibly need to know about self-control, Lottie?” he asked again, placing the book on the desk. “You are the epitome of cool reserve and decorum.”
“Looks are often deceiving, as I’m sure you know,” she replied demurely.
“But why should you wish to deceive anyone? What do you have to hide?” He had moved as he spoke, and now he stood directly in front of her. She could feel the warmth of him across the space that separated them, and smell the soap he used to wash himself.
“I am not hiding anything,” she protested, and stood up, unable to bear this proximity a moment longer. She wanted him to hold her, to take her mouth in a kiss of passion, to show her what the feelings he stirred up meant.
“I think you are fooling yourself if you really believe that,” he said. “Why would you do that? Are you prone to subterfuge?”
His tone was amused, but there was something else there that she could not name. She raised her eyes to look him in the face, and saw his own flare as if in recognition of some truth he saw written on hers.
“Would you be affronted if I told you that I have longed to taste your lips since our wedding day, and that the desire intensified two nights ago when you greeted me as I arrived?” he asked, leaning close to whisper in her ear.
His breath tickled her earlobe, and she shivered. He spoke again before she could reply. “Remember, you have just told me you are not hiding anything. You can be open with me.”
His words were the ultimate temptation. Lottie was not versed in the ways of men with women, but she knew she was being seduced by an expert.
“I would not,” she replied, still shivering from the feel of his breath on her ear.
“Then may I also say that I would wish to sample the delights of those lips, were it not for the fact that they belong to another?”
His breath was now upon the lips in question, his eyes boring into hers relentlessly. He demanded the truth, and she gave it to him.
“You may,” she whispered, and closed her eyes.
Chapter 6 -- Bar
rington
Ryde watched Lottie close her eyes, and groaned at the power of her innocent seduction of his senses. He knew what her words were, the double meaning of them, and he had no choice but to give in, if only for a moment, to the desire that flowed between them. He touched his lips to hers, licking each in turn and tasting her. She was the sweetness of ripe fruit, and her plump lips begged to be sucked. But he was still in sufficient control to remember that she belonged to another, in whose house he was presently a guest, and that the master had placed his wife’s well-being in his keeping. He could not take what she was clearly willing to give. She did not know what was at stake...he did.
