Maiden Lane

by Lynne Connolly

  But for James clearing his throat I might have been the one to take matters further. As it was I found that I’d put my hands around his waist, under his coat, ready to slide them under his waistcoat at the back and drag his shirt clear of his breeches. My lamentable desire to seek skin had led me astray more than once. But only one man’s skin, only one man’s touch, could ever satisfy that need.

  Richard drew away with a laugh and without embarrassment, took my hand and led me to the vestry, where we signed the parish register. James and Gervase followed us to witness our signatures. Richard only let go of my hand so that I could sit down to sign the book, while he explained to the vicar, “If our first marriage remains uncontested, then this service is an affirmation of our vows. If not, then you may be required to show the register as proof of our marriage.” The clink of gold coins followed and the vicar’s unctuous assurances that the register would be carefully guarded and shown to any official who required it, but not to the casual passerby.

  Richard helped me to my feet after leaning over me to add his signature to mine. Unlike the first time, my name flowed from the pen and I marvelled at how accustomed I had become to it. At one time I had considered becoming Richard’s mistress, when I thought there was no other way I could have him. His hand pressed my shoulder before he raised me up, and once again, heedless of the squawks from the religious behind us, kissed me with the same fervency he’d done before. This time I regained a semblance of my sanity and drew away first, to see his softened, fond smile. The one I saw most mornings now.

  “I am so glad,” I said. He didn’t need to know what I meant. He knew it already.

  “I will marry you again and again, if need be. I think my mother saw the glimmer of escape, but not my father. He sees the advantage of the bird in the hand.” He released me but slipped his hand into mine.

  The snort of laughter came from Gervase. “Our father is a pragmatist, but I think some of the romantic remains despite all our mother’s efforts to suppress it.” I gave my hand to him and he kissed it, brushing the back in the approved manner.

  I released Richard’s hand to give my brother a hug. “Hopefully this is just a precaution. You’re not to worry.”

  “I don’t. All I ever wanted was for you to be happy, and you’ve achieved that.” He glanced at Richard. “Although I had my doubts that such an exquisite was the right husband for my hoyden of a sister.” I laughed and touched my simple, though highly fashionable gown. I didn’t have to say anything.

  AT HOME I FED THE INNER child—or children—and Richard remained at my side, sharing my impromptu meal. Once he never would have considered ordering something quick and tasty like fresh bread and cheese, but I’d taught him to appreciate simple pleasures, or so he assured me when I offered to order a more substantial meal for him. I didn’t trust the way his eyes glinted when he offered me a glass of wine, and I was right not to.

  As I made to pass him after we’d eaten in the breakfast parlour, he reached out his hand, which I took without conscious thought. “Should you rest now, sweetheart?”

  I stared at him doubtfully. “I don’t feel particularly tired.”

  He paused, looked up at me and smiled, then without warning pulled my hand so I overbalanced and fell into his lap. His protective arms about me, he kissed me. “You shouldn’t stand so close,” he murmured, “Or be so beautiful.”

  I laughed, knowing better than to remonstrate with him. “And what if someone comes in?”

  “They’ll know how much I love you, but since most of the upper servants are aware of that already it won’t come as a shock to them.” He drew me to him again.

  I couldn’t really object since I found it so agreeable, so I put my hand behind his head and returned his kiss with interest.

  “Every morning,” he said eventually, “I wake up and when I see you beside me I look forward to the day. It’s the first time I’ve felt like that since I was a boy.”

  I smiled. “And you’ve made all this so easy for me, made me so happy. Don’t you think I know how much you spoil me?”

  “It’s my pleasure. I wish I had more, so I could give it to you.” He dropped kisses on my nose, my lips and my chin, working down my throat.

  “We have more than enough,” I answered him, little gasps punctuating my words. “Sometimes I feel guilty that I spend more on a gown than some people earn in a year.”

  “It’s the way of things,” he said lightly, but I knew he cared, perhaps not as much as I did, but he noticed it too. “But if you want to…” he paused and laid a gentle hand on my stomach, “…after the baby, you could find a cause to support. Many ladies do so. Mr. Coram’s orphanage is always looking for patrons.”

  “Yes.” I’d seen the orphans walking two by two in their uniforms, especially on a Sunday, a church day. I wasn’t sure they were happy, although they were cleaner and better fed than some of the happier children I’d seen darting about the streets. It might be worth investigating, though.

  The baby chose that moment to aim a hefty kick at Richard’s hand, which still rested on my belly. After a sharp intake of breath he laughed and felt the swelling with a gentle hand, feeling the other movements as the babe—or babes—settled down again. “A miracle.”

  “One you had a hand in,” I reminded him.

  “More than a hand.” He smiled and drew me to him for another kiss. This one was deeper, more penetrating, and we both found ourselves short of breath when we finally surfaced. His eyes sparkled, and he lifted me off his body with a new purpose. “It’s our wedding day, tesoro mio, so we need to celebrate.”

  He got to his feet, lifting me with him and then lowering me down his body. Anyone who imagined that his elaborate toilette and lean body signified weakness should have seen him then, his control so absolute that he could stand up as if I weighed nothing, which at this stage of my pregnancy was far from the case.

  We went upstairs. The household was probably used to our unusual starts by now, because they kept out of our way. When we reached my bedroom only my maid remained, and Richard dismissed her and undressed me himself. He loved doing that, and I loved for him to do it. No one else kissed me as each garment fell, lavishing attention on each fresh part of my body that appeared to him, as if I were a banquet for his delectation.

  And I had learned my way around the clothes of a man of fashion, which were no less elaborate than mine, except that Richard wore little under his fine garments. I’d heard of gentlemen wearing stays to obtain the necessary trim waist, and padding their calves to make their legs appear to advantage. Richard needed none of that. I loved uncovering him, but his directions, “Turn around, sweetheart, now back again,” could sometimes prove an impediment to my purpose. Today we didn’t rush. Not many people have the chance for a second wedding night. Our first had been delayed by a few weeks, but this one could follow directly on the wedding.

  He kissed my hand and the finger that held the rings he’d given me, twice now. Both of us naked, we stood in the midst of our discarded clothes as if they meant nothing. Here, now, they didn’t. They were what we had to wear to fulfil our roles outside this room. In here, we had each other. Nothing else mattered.

  He led me to the bed and drew back the covers for me, watching me climb in. I lay back against the pillows and held out my arms to him, but he stayed where he was, standing by the bed, and gazed at me. His blue eyes were clear and bright in the light streaming through the windows, perceptive. They took in all of me, my altered shape, from my toes to my eyes. He didn’t look away, but the slow smile that curved his lips warmed me to my soul. Everything I had belonged to him. I knew I’d remember this moment forever, and his appreciation of what he had, what I was giving him. I could feel nothing but fully one with him though we weren’t touching.

  Climbing on to the bed, he lifted his hand and slowly brought it down to rest on my belly. “You’re warm enough?” The words, although mundane, displayed the love and care he always showed to me.


  “Not even Gervase would credit how open you are here.”

  He gave a self-conscious laugh and spread his arms wide. “What do I have to hide?”

  “Yourself.” I put my hand on top of his and enjoyed the sight before me. Deceptively broad shoulders that made his tailors weep with joy gave way to a strong chest and a beautifully flat stomach that at present I envied, and then down to his slim hips and the proof of his manhood, currently stiff as a result of his perusal of my naked body. But we were in no hurry. We had all the time we needed. “You could appear in public stark naked and still conceal the truth of what you are.”

  “Which is?”

  “Many men. But you only show me this side of you and I think this is the Richard with everything else stripped away.” I’d never found myself capable of explaining it before. “But you shed your outer self with those.” With my free hand I indicated the clothes we’d cast aside so heedlessly. “Inside everything else, inside the man of fashion, the powerful aristocrat, the businessman, there’s Richard Kerre. I think Helen and I are the only people to see that man.”

  He shook his head, still smiling. I thought I’d wrecked the mood, but it seemed not. The inner man could be difficult, sometimes impossible to reach, especially in words. He could show me easier than he could articulate his needs and his wants. “Even Helen only sees a part of me. I’m her father, I have to be careful to remain strong and calm for her. I can trust you with everything. I might have done that with Gervase before I was breeched at seven, but after that our parents separated us, treated me as the son and heir, gave me preferential treatment. It’s to Gervase’s credit that he never wavered in his support of me.”

  “Do you think your parents tried to push you apart?”

  “Yes, undoubtedly. It would have been easier to control us apart. We never obliged. But even he hasn’t seen all of me. You have. I have nothing to hide from you, my love.”

  “Nothing?”

  “No, nothing. Ask and you shall receive.”

  His eyes blazed into mine and I knew what he wanted me to ask. I separated my thighs. “Then make love to me, my husband, my only love.”

  His smile broadened and he leaned forward to cover my body with his. Careful to keep his weight off my ripe belly, he took his shaft in hand and eased it between my legs. It entered my body as if coming home. I felt it in the same way. “I never feel completely whole unless you’re there.”

  He lifted his gaze from my lower body. “I’m always there, my sweet. The first time I made love to you it felt so right that I knew only you would do from now on. Only you. Everyone else faded and now I can hardly remember them. I don’t care to.”

  I loved that he felt he could talk about his admittedly colourful philandering before he met me. Every time I entered a room I confronted yet another of his old mistresses. After his parents sent Gervase abroad instead of supporting him, as Richard felt they should have done, he went through the society that would have condemned his twin, with revenge rather than philandering on his mind. Although he regretted it, he could hardly go around apologizing to each one. Instead, he tried to help them if they needed it and demonstrated that he’d decided to become a respectable member of society.

  Perhaps that was exaggerating somewhat.

  And in any case, at present he hardly felt like a respectable gentleman. Thank the Lord.

  I folded my arms around him, smoothed my hands down his back to his buttocks and gripped them hard, urging him to enter my body as deeply as possible. He laughed and obliged, and I lifted my legs to hook them around his upper thighs. I loved the feel of his skin against mine, his legs rough with hair. As physically close as we could get.

  “You look so beautiful like this. Rose, you’re my life.”

  Sometimes he scared me when he spoke so fervently. But this time I loved his words, adored him assuring me how much I meant to him because I reciprocated every word. I understood. “Never leave me.”

  “Never. Everything I have is yours, everything I am.”

  I arched my back and moaned as he began to thrust into me, but he paused, seized a pillow and pushed it under my buttocks. Then he slid deeply into me once more and proceeded to carefully, methodically, drive me out of my mind. Hairpins scattered over the pillow as I arched and reached for him, dislodging the neat coiffure my maid had so carefully dressed my hair into this morning. Sweat beaded his brow and wildness entered his eyes, displaying his need to bring me to climax before he found his own peak. I knew the signs now and it made him more dear, more loved. As we knew each other better, our lovemaking, in fact every aspect of our partnership, improved. We grew closer every day.

  The warmth he was stroking inside gained in intensity, spreading to an unbearable prickling tension invading my body, but so welcome. I grasped his shoulders, cried out and experienced that perfect moment of nothing before everything exploded within me and wave after wave of passion flowed over me. My sex clenched around his and I tried to control it, tightening my inner muscles to milk him of everything he could give me. I took and he gave.

  His breath caught in his throat and he gave a strangled cry before he dropped his head and rested it against mine, breaking eye contact briefly before he raised his gaze again and we watched each other as we flowed into mutual ecstasy. At that moment I was closer to Richard than to anyone else, before or since. We shared our love, and I remembered what he’d said to me early in our marriage, heard his words as if he spoke them now. “Let me teach you all I know so that we can go on together.”

  Now I knew what he meant. We were still learning, but now as equals in love, as in everything else.

  Chapter Eight

  WE HAD THOUGHT TO HAVE a pleasant evening at the theatre, before the crowds of the season proper overwhelmed it and the audience could no longer hear what the actors were saying. I had a fondness for a good play, well acted, but sometimes even David Garrick failed me, and sadly, this was one of those nights. My previous enjoyment of Mr. Garrick and his interpretation of various roles kept me in place, as many in the audience would note the fact that I left early, but sometimes I could use my pregnancy as an excuse. I was thinking of doing just that when several new entrants in the box opposite to ours kept me riveted to my seat.

  I had hoped for a pleasant evening, despite the disappointment of the play, since tonight Richard and I had invited Gervase and Ian to accompany us. Ian’s trenchant observations, spoken sotto voce to us as the play progressed, had amused me more than I’d thought when it became obvious that Mr. Garrick’s mind was elsewhere, certainly not on the character of Lusignan.

  “Did you know he’d bought a house in the country?” Ian murmured from behind me.

  Gervase chuckled. “The troubles of a landowner affecting the purity of his performance? Perhaps he is wondering if a Roman temple would suit his land. He does keep glancing at the backdrop when there’s no need.”

  But my attention finally left the stage when I saw the newcomers. John, sporting a blue coat and waistcoat, which, as luck would have it, was the precise sapphire shade of the one Richard wore tonight. The man seemed to want to make blue his signature colour. In the pit, several sets of eyes went from us to their box and back again. “I’d like to know who got them a box immediately opposite ours,” I replied.

  “Oh don’t worry, I’ll find out,” Richard said, with a menace that promised retribution to whoever had acted so rashly. “But we’re fixed here for the duration. If we leave, the audience will see it as a snub, and at present we’re avoiding direct public confrontation. Damn the upstart. Oh my God, will you look at that.”

  John had escorted two ladies and a gentleman into his box. Julia Drury could be expected to stir up trouble where Richard was concerned, so her presence didn’t surprise us. However John had brought his sister, Susan. The other gentleman must be Susan’s beau, Sir Andrew Davies. He appeared in portly, middle-aged prime, but we already knew that although I had never seen him before. I generally met Susan at Thompson’s,
because for obvious reasons Richard couldn’t be seen entering and leaving her place of work. Neither could she visit us while there was supposed to be no link between us. It had worked well. Giving her the money had helped to assuage Richard’s strong feeling of guilt that he should have done more during their miserable childhoods. Not that he’d even known they’d existed during that unfortunate period in their lives.

  John had just blown all that apart. He’d made his claim for Richard’s attention blatant, if not explicit. He hadn’t, as far as we knew, told anyone that he was Richard’s son. He’d let them draw their own conclusions, and society had done so. Even more now. The similarity between the brother and sister couldn’t be denied by anyone seeing them together. John sat next to her and once he’d settled her, she lifted her head and gazed about her.

  When she saw us she didn’t pause. Her eyes widened—I saw the flash from where I sat—as her chest rose and fell with a quick gasp, then she moved on. John stood and bowed to his father, low enough to show the obeisance required of a noble sire. Richard had no choice. He inclined his head in a regal nod, and I followed his example as best I could. Acknowledging someone that I’d met but who had not made a particular impression. We couldn’t cut him without revealing a breach between us. Then society would have meat to go with its gossip, and our aim was to reduce the gossip, not add to it.

  “I shall speak to my father,” Richard murmured.

  “I’ll be there,” Gervase said from behind him.

  “No,” Richard answered sharply but without heat. “We’ll do this in stages. If we both confront him, we’ll set him against us. He’ll feel obliged to take our mother’s side.”

  “Are there sides, then?”

  Richard sighed. “I think so. Our revered mother is taking his side. A shocking volte-face, I know, but she was ever thus. I think she means to control me this way. Threaten me with him.”

  “As you say, ever thus. Divide and rule, it’s always her way.” Gervase sounded resigned. In his place I’d have been angry, but Gervase had found fortune in his travels and was now worth a great deal of money. And he’d escaped from his mother’s constant opprobrium and his father’s indifference for over ten years. That probably counted for something.