Lady of Sin

by Madeline Hunter

  He barely reacted, but a subtle surprise affected his expression. “He was ill for most of your marriage, Charl.”

  “I told myself later it was the illness beginning, or that whatever problem existed was not with me. I always knew there might be another explanation, however. Now there is a boy in Durham who proves it was not any lack in my husband.”

  “I believe you are wrong. If time proves you are not, that is how it will be. This is not about begetting an heir. And, since others will whisper, let me emphasize that it is also not about obtaining your fortune.”

  “We both know that if you wanted a fortune, an estate waits for you that requires much less disruption to your life than taking on a wife.” Alluding to that caused a jolt in her heart. “Oh, my. If we discover that Harry’s mother was indeed married to Philip, a marriage to me will close that path to you forever. A man of the Church could not have a wife stained by the scandal of bigamy, even if the fault were not mine in any way.”

  His response was a knowing smile. “I thank you for clarifying the cost, Lady M.”

  “You should have waited to make this proposal,” she said, distressed by the implications that had not been foreseen. “You should have seen what transpired tomorrow first. You have said that you believe there was no lawful marriage, but—”

  “Should you marry me, Charlotte, I will take great pleasure in laying down a few laws. The first will be that you do not tell me what I should do, or whom or what I should protect.”

  His scold left her chagrined. Of course he had seen all the eventualities and costs, long before she had.

  He spoke more gently. “I do not care what is learned tomorrow. I will not allow the truths of another man’s past to create the truths of my future. I know it is harder for you, and I do not expect an answer now. I am only making my intentions plain so you do not doubt my loyalty or misunderstand the nature of my interest.”

  It was an astonishing declaration. An enormous commitment. He would stand by her no matter what was learned, and what scandal resulted. Her entire past might become the subject of gossip and public investigations, but she could anchor herself to his strength through it all.

  His hand had turned, and he was holding hers. A sweet, wonderful ache filled her chest.

  She could not answer until she knew what they faced. She had to do her own weighing once she saw all the costs. Until then, until tomorrow, she would not deny the profound emotions saturating her, however.

  As always, he understood. He knew exactly what she was thinking, she did not doubt it.

  “Shall we retire, madam?” He spoke almost formally, but his gaze said so much more. The whisper from the afternoon was in his eyes, seducing her to much more than pleasure.

  Jump with me.

  She both thrilled with and cringed from the sensation of being poised on the brink of an unknown space, whose mist promised both wonder and danger.

  They walked up the stairs in silence. She felt him behind her, benign in step and manner but not entirely in spirit. A caution, such as she had experienced the first night in Elmcrest, slid through her. The difference was that her vulnerability was not physical or sensual this time.

  A loss waited in the mist as well as a gain. She had forever been separate, even in her prior, peaceful love. She had only relinquished a part of her essence to little Ambrose, not to any man.

  It made her shy suddenly, that aura of decision behind her. For all their comprehension of each other, for all their knowledge of each other’s games and each other’s bodies, she became more virginal than she had ever been. Giving one’s favors was one thing. Giving one’s heart was another. Giving oneself was fearsome. She did not know if she had the courage for that ultimate selflessness.

  She did not look at him when the door closed on the chamber. While he lit two lamps, she began unfastening her dress. He came up behind her and helped. His vitality encompassed her even though his hands barely touched as he tended to these practical matters.

  She closed her eyes to both fight and absorb his energy, but it stirred all her senses and intuitions, provoking again the instinctive sense of danger that he had always called forth, and that had given rise to every other sort of provocation in turn.

  “I am afraid of you,” she said, admitting to herself what these reactions had always meant. “I am afraid of how I respond to you, and what it might mean.”

  He turned her around so he could see her face. “And I am a little afraid of you. But not enough, anymore.”

  He continued to undress her, his fingers calm and firm on the hooks and ribbons. His confidence unnerved her. Jump with me. He had made his decision, but she still experienced a visceral wariness.

  Loud, dramatic music, Vergil had called great passion. He had also been describing Nathaniel the man. Such men drowned out the people around them with their mere presence. One had to struggle to avoid becoming a mere echo of their symphonies.

  She barely knew who she was anymore. Revelations and new emotions kept remodeling her like so much pliable clay. If she allowed herself to love him, fully love him, she might lose any clear distinction. She might become a girl again, unformed and vague.

  She stopped fumbling with her garments and allowed him to finish. He swept away her dress and petticoats, and released her stays. Sly fingers skimmed her drawers over her hips and they fell to her feet. She stepped out of them, wearing only her hose.

  He embraced her from behind and the submersion became physical. That helped. His embrace had always defeated her hesitations. His physical strength comforted in ways his presence did not.

  His embrace also aroused her more. She had been excited all day, all week—a long time, actually. Long before they ever found common ground, she knew now.

  His hands moved wonderfully over her breasts and down her stomach. Warm, slow strokes caused her to sink against him. Into him.

  “You are beautiful, Charl.” His palms circled her breasts, sending luscious shivers down her stomach to her vulva. “You haunt me, day and night. I do not want to scheme at having you. I do not want the calculation and the deception.”

  Neither did she. Right now she did not want anything except his hands on her every day. That is what he did to her.

  She turned and helped him, as he had helped her. Impatient now, the familiar craving beckoning, she plucked at his shirt buttons while he shed coats and cravat. She almost rent the linen to get to his warmth. When his chest was finally bare, she laid her cheek against it to feel him and smell him and hear his heartbeat.

  He held her. Enclosed her, and his wrapping arms were a physical reminder of all the enclosures he might cause.

  She assessed the incredible comfort she felt, and also the alarming excitement. A poignant sweetness drenched her. She pressed her hands and lips to his skin. Her heart smiled at her confusion and spoke its silent words.

  She loved him. That was what this was, this lovely ache in her chest. She looked up to find him gazing down, waiting. Soulful trust poured through her, as it had at that party and so often since. He might know her game, he might know she was helpless against all of his strengths, but he would never use them against her.

  She could not help smiling, almost laughing. Her heart had already jumped. She only had to admit it, and allow her mind and will to follow.

  She wondered what it was like to make love to the man with whom you shared both love and earth-shaking passion.

  Her fingers sought the closure on his trousers so she could find out.

  They made quick work of his garments, and their next embrace was all skin on skin. Her hands moved slowly over the hard lines and taut strength of his body. Pride of possession tinged her pleasure. Love gave her rights greater than any law’s.

  He carried her to the bed and laid her down. “Muslin and a lumpy mattress,” he said as he joined her.

  “It could be a rocky beach and I would not care tonight.” She could not stop smiling. The sweet ache inside her had turned to joy. “I had
no idea there were choices in these things, Nathaniel.”

  He covered her with his body, his skin warming her length and starting a hundred little happy shivers. He rested his weight on his forearms so he could look at her. “What choices have you made, Charlotte?”

  She hesitated only a moment. Trust conquered her shyness. “I suppose I chose to admit to myself that I love you, Nathaniel.”

  “As I love you, Charl.” His gaze carried the old amusement along with a beautiful warmth. “We have done this backwards, haven’t we? First a bond of the spirit, then one of pleasure and passion, then declarations of love. Perhaps, in the future, vows of marriage. It normally goes the other way.”

  “I think I have enjoyed our way better.”

  “For us, perhaps it was the right way, if it brings us here now.” He kissed her so sweetly her heart sighed. “I would not have wanted to wait on your choices to have you. I might have waited forever then.” His kisses sought her neck and shoulders. “However, I am glad for your choice, Charlotte. This is too right to deny what it is.”

  Very right, and so beautiful. He seemed to feel the new power within the passion, just as she did. His hands moved over her body very slowly and deliberately, wringing every emotional nuance out of the sweet pleasure. His mouth praised as much as aroused when his tongue teased at her nipples and his lips gently drew on her breasts. She held him to her then, her fingers stretched through the hair on his crown, while euphoria joined the desire that claimed her mind and body.

  The passion could not be contained, but it never eclipsed the love. She lost herself in both, but the part of her that relinquished itself to love would never be reclaimed. She sensed that even as it happened. They both gave and took in that sharing, trading parts of their souls so they would be forever linked.

  There were no erotic games this time. He took her like the virgin she had been on entering this chamber, his desire waiting for her at each step. She realized there had been love within the pleasure before, potent but unnamed. The power of this passion had always come from its seeds and growth.

  The pleasure was sweet, but soon it would not do. It was not enough. She reached down and closed her hand on his phallus, near its base. She guided him to her, so he would fill her.

  He looked down at her. Everything was in his gaze. She had never seen so much before. The essential things about this man, about the two of them, were visible.

  He returned to her embrace. She held him during the long, beautiful union. His strength dominated her small size completely and his thrusts claimed new rights unmistakably, but she felt no threat and no loss. She absorbed him just as he entered her, and their comprehension of each other became complete.

  They did not speak afterward. She felt no need to tell him how she had been moved. He knew, she was sure, just as she knew what was in his heart. His embrace was as encompassing as his spirit, holding her close as he fell asleep.

  She looked into the night while snuggled in the security he gave. She understood much now, far more than he guessed. She suspected she knew why he had proposed today, why he wanted his intentions made clear. She understood why he did not want her meeting with Yardley in the morning, and why he had so quickly compromised when the inquiries touched on her life.

  Love could be senseless in its desire to protect. Senseless and selfless. He did not count the cost to himself, and she would not count the cost to herself either.

  She turned in his arms so she inhaled his breath and felt his skin on her cheek. Another choice was coming, about that proposal. Her love would make the decision easy, inevitable, even if it led to a new grieving that would never end.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY

  If you are determined, then let us do it now.” Nathaniel rose and offered his hand. He had spent the last hour gently trying to dissuade Charlotte from calling on Yardley, to no avail.

  It was not that he feared her learning the truth. He merely did not want her hearing the truth. Yardley could end up being like those witnesses in trials who dithered and meandered in giving the facts, and ended up revealing irrelevant, unwelcome, and damaging details amidst their verbal excess.

  He would like to believe his love would make all discoveries insignificant, but he had no secure confidence about that.

  She took his hand. Her eyes and smile said that she knew he wanted to protect her and she appreciated it. However, she would never let him shield her the way he wanted. His soft little Charlotte could still be the vexing Lady M.

  The carriage waited outside the inn. Once it began moving, he explained the plan he had concocted in order to control events somewhat. “I will ask him the questions. If you do, he may try to dissemble.”

  “Are you saying I should be seen but not heard?” Her tone, while pleasant enough, carried a sardonic note that he chose to ignore.

  “Exactly. Be there if you must. Listen to your heart’s content, but I will direct the conversation.”

  Her mouth pursed with amusement. “You do not lose any time laying down those laws you spoke of yesterday. I am too besotted from last night to mention that it is premature to attempt such mastery of me. I will agree to your direction, but only because you are an expert at asking questions, and will no doubt do it better than I would.”

  He doubted any attempts at mastery would be well timed or very successful. He looked forward to having the right to try, however. It promised to be as much fun as their prior skirmishes had been, but with much more pleasurable truces.

  They entered a large village five miles west of Hertford. As they drove down the main lane, Charlotte peered out the window at the thatched roofs and cross-timbers that they passed.

  “What a charming and picturesque place. Is this our destination?”

  “Yardley is the vicar of the church here.”

  “He has done well for himself. How did a tutor come to such a living?”

  She would have to ask. “The living is controlled by Mardenford. I assume once the young men were grown, it was arranged to give their tutor this income.”

  “I do not recall seeing anything in Philip’s letters about this. Indeed, the few I did see from Mr. Yardley were not posted from this village. On the rare occasions that Philip mentioned him, it was not even by name. He was ‘my tutor’—a servant from the past and not a fond old friend.”

  So much for controlling events today. He hoped he would have more compliance from Yardley. “He received the living later, from James.”

  She did not say that was odd, but a woman too clever by half would see that it was. There was the small chance she had been so well pleasured and loved last night that she was not thinking straight. That would be convenient.

  “When did James give him the living? How long ago?”

  Damn. “Four or five years, I believe. Soon after James inherited the title. No doubt he thought his brother should have provided for Yardley better, and rectified matters.”

  “Perhaps.”

  The carriage stopped. He handed her down and they approached the vicarage door.

  The housekeeper took his card away, then returned to escort them to a little drawing room. It was too early to be making calls, but it appeared Yardley would receive them. Nathaniel assumed that meant Yardley knew who Nathaniel Knightridge was and what he might want. Which in turn suggested that Mardenford had been in communication with the tutor. If so, that would make this harder.

  Charlotte waited calmly, perched on her wooden chair, exuding the formidable presence that far exceeded her size. She was not at all too besotted to think straight. He doubted she would miss the implications of every word spoken today.

  Love and pride momentarily distracted him. He would forever thank heaven she had been so rash and so bold as to attend that sinful party.

  Yardley entered the drawing room abruptly, as if he had paused in the wings to compose himself first. His long gray hair, receding at the brow, and his spectacles initially made him appear older than he was. A smooth oval face
and spry step suggested he had barely passed his fortieth year.

  He beamed exaggerated welcome and pleasant curiosity. Nathaniel recognized him at once as a fellow actor. This would be interesting.

  “How can I be of service to you, Mr. Knightbridge?”

  “Knightridge.” The mistake with his name had been a nice, befuddled touch. “This is Charlotte, Lady Mardenford. You once served as tutor to her late husband, the sixth Baron Mardenford.”

  Yardley advanced on her with sympathy and deference. “I am undone to meet you. Your husband was a dear pupil of mine and, dare I presume to say, a dear friend.”

  “I am sure he would not have considered it a presumption. He spoke very highly of you.”

  Her warm acceptance of his greeting encouraged him. He sat nearby, as if he had found an ally.

  Nathaniel did not sit at all. Donning his courtroom demeanor, he moved close enough so he would tower above Yardley. “We apologize for the intrusion, but Lady Mardenford has learned of events in the past that trouble her, and she desires some information.”

  Yardley cocked his head at her. “Events? Information? I am sorry, but I cannot imagine—”

  “I think you can,” she said.

  An awkward moment pulsed. Nathaniel let Yardley contemplate just how awkward.

  “There is no delicate way to broach this. The lady has cause to think that as a young man, while on his grand tour, her husband formed an alliance with a Spanish woman. She would like to learn what you know of this.”

  Yardley displayed true dismay this time. He may have been warned that a man named Knightridge had inquired about an old tutor, but he evidently had not been informed about the reason. That meant that Mardenford was not sure of the inquiry’s purpose either.

  He is afraid of something. Charlotte’s observation repeated in Nathaniel’s head. If not revelations about events in Spain, then what? The pit of his stomach soured as he tried to ignore the question.

  Yardley bent toward Charlotte with great concern and appeasement. “Madam, you say you have some cause to think. Surely you have misunderstood or—”