Nicholas was being rather puckish and abominable that night, making Lavinia wish Julius had kept him chained up in his dungeon. Through her kid gloves, she dug her nails into his arm as he escorted her into the main ballroom. Nicholas held his head high as if to annoy her.
They both stopped their childish games when they saw Helena. She was gorgeous, dressed in a stunning turquoise blue with cobalt underskirts, her mother similarly attired in sea green and deep forest, pendants on either arm of a smiling Julius Christopher. Lavinia heard Nicholas suck in a fortifying breath.
“Steady, Nicky,” she cautioned quietly.
But she smiled graciously as the trio came forward. “Julius, how lovely to see you.” She nodded. “Mrs. Phillips. Miss Phillips, congratulations are in order, I hear.”
Helena looked away with a blush, biting her lower lip. “Thank you,” she said almost inaudibly.
The two men barely looked at each other as they muttered polite hellos.
“Lavinia, dear, I wonder if you could do me a favor,” asked Julius abruptly.
Always wary where it concerned her old lover, Lavinia kept her cool and merely answered, “I will try my best.”
“It seems Mrs. Phillips is feeling a little faint and I thought it a good idea she have a lie-down. I would like to take her upstairs to the third floor. Some fresh air from the balcony and a rest would enliven her, wouldn’t you agree, Ramsay?”
Nicholas stared at his employer. “A glass of cool water as well, I should think.”
Julius nodded his response and returned his attention to Lavinia. “Would it trouble you much to take Helena under your charge while I attend to her mother?”
Lavinia seethed. “Not at all, Julius,” she responded as if nothing were wrong. “I would love to spend some time with Miss Phillips. Wedding chatter, you know.”
Sophia looked quite distressed but was nimbly whisked away by Julius before she could utter a word.
Lavinia’s anger was mollified by the sight of Nicholas and Helena gazing at each other in awe. Just then, Penelope Hardcastle approached, her demure smile at odds with her gown. The lace edging on her square-cut neckline gave the illusion of modesty, when in fact quite a bit was on display.
“Lady Foxley-Graham, what a beautiful dress,” she said as her eyes flickered toward Nicholas.
“Miss Hardcastle, thank you. My dressmaker is right near that hat shop. I should give you the address.”
“Please.” Her gaze did not waver from her target. The girl clearly had far more invigorating topics on her mind than dresses. “Dr. Ramsay,” she greeted him casually.
“Hello, Miss Hardcastle. Very nice to see you.” Like a boy trying to choose between a puppy and a pony, Nicholas seemed overwhelmed.
“It occurs to me that the two young ladies might not have been formally introduced,” announced Lavinia. “Miss Helena Phillips, may I present Miss Penelope Hardcastle.”
The two young ladies greeted each other as young ladies ought.
“Miss Phillips is engaged to be married, Miss Hardcastle,” Lavinia taunted.
“Are you?”
It worked. Helena and Penelope began to chatter away as if they had known each other for years. Lavinia nudged a besotted Nicholas.
“You know what that cad is going to do to her upstairs, don’t you?” she hissed.
“Lavinia, please don’t remind me,” he groaned under his breath.
“Well, I’ll see how I can make it worth your while, darling.”
“Dr. Ramsay,” came Penelope’s sweet voice. “May I inquire if you will be free for a dance later tonight?”
Lavinia could see the distress on poor Nicholas’ face. “Perhaps later, Miss Hardcastle,” she offered. “I fear he has been requested to look after Miss Phillips for the time being while her fiancé is otherwise occupied.”
“Of course. I’m sure Miss Phillips needs a bit of protection from those men who do not yet know of her engaged status.” Penelope shot Nicholas a sly, knowing smile as she took her leave.
Relieved of the distraction of Penelope, Nicholas and Helena once again gazed admiringly at each other, all the while trying desperately to not be too obvious.
“Nicholas, be a dear, the waltz will begin soon. Partner Helena, please?” She turned to the young lady in question. “I’m sure you won’t mind a dance or two with Dr. Ramsay? I fear he’s still getting his ballroom footing after having been away for some years.”
Helena looked absolutely thrilled at the prospect. “Yes, Lady Foxley-Graham. I would love to dance with Dr. Ramsay.”
Lavinia smiled graciously. “That would be most appreciated. But please, one moment, I would like to confer with my companion.” She stood on tiptoe to whisper in his ear. “Take her outside during the dance, Nicky. No one will notice. There’s the grotto in the back corner of the garden to the left.”
Lavinia’s heart was jubilant as she watched Nicholas and Helena, their faces glowing joyfully, walk arm in arm to the dance floor.
* * * * *
Dancing with Nicholas was a welcome respite from the horrid nightmare of her engagement to Dr. Christopher. And an amazing opportunity to put her plot into action. The Hawkhurst mansion had a third floor absolutely full of bedrooms.
As she clung to him, Helena looked out onto the crowd fringing the ballroom. So many couples still on the dance floor would mean the upstairs would be empty…
“I feel somewhat deprived of your full attention, Miss Phillips. Is there another man you’ve set your sights on?”
Mortified, Helena looked up at Nicholas, his eyes twinkling teasingly. “I was just admiring your companion, Dr. Ramsay. Lady Foxley-Graham is quite beautiful tonight.”
Nicholas grinned at her. “I think she would be supremely flattered if you told her that.”
“Me?” Helena envied the woman who was such a special friend to Nicholas. The woman who saw him naked, who was free to touch him, who enjoyed his attentions in bed—
“You are one of the most beautiful women to grace London this Season, Miss Phillips. Surely you know that?”
Helena blushed. “Thank you, Nicholas.” It felt good to be waltzing in his arms, almost familiar, and yet so new. “You know, we’ve never danced together before.”
He pressed his hand more firmly against her back. “I was wondering when you would realize that. Now that you are an engaged woman I suppose you may dance with whomever you choose.” He leaned in a little. “We should dance together more often,” he murmured.
Helena flushed at his flirtation. “We should. You’re quite good.”
“Thank you,” he said, whirling her about handily.
She giggled and he did it again.
He pulled her more closely to him. “Are the turns making you dizzy, Miss Phillips?” he whispered conspiratorially in her ear. “So much so you must repair to the garden for a breath of fresh air?”
His insinuation made her giddy. “Dr. Ramsay, please, no more,” she complained aloud. “It is a bit warm in here, and I’m afraid I need some air.”
“Of course, Miss Phillips.” He offered his arm and escorted her off the dance floor.
Once out on the flagstone terrace, they became like any other couple escaping under cover of moonlight, arm in arm, seeking a tête-à-tête. They quickly descended the stone staircase leading down into the garden.
The cool air was refreshing against Helena’s heated skin. Her closeness to Nicholas set her ablaze, letting loose a flood of fantasies, fantasies still stoked by the fire of her last visit to Dr. Christopher’s office. Blindfolded, she had imagined Nicholas as her lover, his sensual ministrations torturing her exquisitely. She bit her lip. Did Nicholas think of her when he touched himself? Oh God. Just the thought of him touching himself…
He guided her to a dark corner of the garden where they were very much alone, then slowed his pace. He took off his gloves and laced his fingers through hers.
Grateful that her glove concealed her sticky palm, she squeezed hi
s hand and turned to him.
He put a finger to her lips. “Not here. Come.”
The moonlight and the dim glow of lanterns revealed his destination—an exedra, a large semicircular vault encrusted with shells, pebbles and bits of glass looming majestically before a pool with a softly splashing fountain. The famed Hawkhurst grotto. Lots of shadowy corners and far from the crowds. Helena bit her lip again. Better than the third floor.
Nicholas led her to a low bench running along the curve of the vault and chose the darkest spot for them to sit. He took both her hands. “I hoped I would see you tonight. I never envisioned being with you like this ever again.”
“Like what?”
“Alone.”
Helena’s heart skipped a beat. For a moment he looked as if he were going to kiss her. Instead, he wrapped her in an arm and pulled her back against him.
“How have you been, love?” He gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze.
She sighed. “Nicholas, I don’t know why my mother chose Dr. Christopher,” she said quietly. “He’s not at all what my parents had wanted for me.”
“Surely she gave you some explanation?”
“Not a reasonable one. I think she’s fallen in love with him. Or his machine.”
His breath hitched at the mention of the device. “I fear your mother is being deceived in some manner.”
“I think something is amiss as well. It is she who spends so much time with Dr. Christopher.”
He bent down to her. “You don’t call your fiancé by his Christian name?” he asked in surprise.
“I don’t feel comfortable calling him ‘Julius’. It feels strange.”
“And yet, you no longer call me ‘Dr. Ramsay’.” He nuzzled his nose against her neck.
“That’s because you kissed me,” she said shyly.
“He hasn’t kissed you yet?” Nicholas was incredulous.
“He says I should remain completely chaste until my wedding night.”
“Oh God.” It was said with a measure of disgust. “Be cautious around him. Never be left alone with him. No doubt he has some debauchery planned.”
The thought chilled her. “Well, we still have to wait for Papa’s consent. I hope he—I know he won’t approve of such a match! Dr. Christopher’s only a baronet. If I’m allowed to marry a doctor, why can’t it be you?”
He chuckled. “Well, first of all, I’m not even a baronet.”
“Can’t you be made one?”
“I suppose. But I am descended from earls. I think that’s a bit better.”
“Earls?” Helena jolted back to face him. “Are you in line to be an earl?” Please let it be true!
He chuckled. “Probably at some point. It’s my cousin who’s the earl.”
“Oh.” It was really too remote to satisfy her parents.
“And,” he squeezed her again, “I haven’t asked you.”
She looked up at him smiling down at her, obliged to the night for hiding her flush of abashment. He tenderly touched her heated cheek with the tip of a finger, tracing tiny circles along her jaw to her chin. She desperately wanted to kiss him. Could a girl do such a brazen thing?
She reached up to press her palm behind his head, then drew him down toward her.
A giggling couple scurried along the path on the far side of the fountain.
Nicholas pulled back. “Darling, there’s a far more private place.”
He stood and gallantly offered a hand, then guided her behind the grotto’s vault to a set of stone stairs leading down into the earth.
She held on to him as they descended into the pitch blackness together, their eyes adjusting slowly to a view of a magnificent underground chamber. Beams of moonlight and lamplight shone through small holes in the ground above, creating a starlit canopy over the subterranean space.
He led her to a stone bench carved with ancient motifs. There they sat and looked up at the false stars, the sound of the fountain above echoing faintly around them. She leaned into his welcoming embrace.
It was dark and quiet. And they were truly alone. Perfect for lovers.
Helena snuggled deeper, reveling in the comfort of his body surrounding hers, the rhythm of their breaths and the tempo of their hearts merging in unison. He bent and kissed her neck, then nuzzled his nose against her shoulder. “I love being with you like this. Just the two of us in the dark.” He chuckled, his breath hot against her. “It always seems to happen when we meet.”
“It does, doesn’t it?” she agreed with a giggle and a realization. Each time had been a step forward, each time she had seen more of him, touched more of him, kissed more of him. But this time, she didn’t want a furtive fumble with a quick return to the ballroom. This time she wanted all of him and wanted to give him all of herself, a desire that verged on desperation, inciting her, emboldening her. “Nicholas,” she said, turning to him, “I think of you often…how we were together at the Quimbys’, when I touched you, your response to me.”
He threaded his fingers through hers. “I feel the same. I can’t get you out of my head. I think of you frequently. Far too frequently,” he confessed. “Even when I make love to Lavinia, sometimes I imagine you.”
Helena swallowed her excitement at his admission, but it welled up, refusing to be tamped down inside her. “My body hungers for you. In my bed at night, when I pleasure myself, my thoughts are filled with images of you, and I find myself no longer alone.”
He pulled her more closely to him as he inhaled deeply, the fine linen of his shirt warm, his shirt studs cool against her bare shoulders. His slow exhale jittered with emotion. “Helena,” he murmured morosely. “I have to know. His machine, would it be enough to keep you from me?”
How does he know? She turned to face him. “Did he tell you?”
He took another deep breath. “I saw it. I was supposed to have rescued you, but everything went awry. He locked me in a closet next to the examination room. There was a sort of peephole…”
“You watched me?” The very idea was astonishingly arousing.
“You’re not completely appalled?” His forehead crinkled in disbelief.
Perhaps a girl could be brazen after all. She pecked his luscious lips, agape and slightly smiling at her enthusiasm for his voyeurism.
The peck turned to passion as he held her head steady and melded his mouth to hers. He pulled back, panting. “Where have you been all my life?” he murmured with a chuckle. “Darling, I saw you in ecstasy. I cannot express what that did to me, still does to me.” His gaze flickered as he caressed her face. “Would I be enough for you?”
“Yes,” she answered quickly. “Yes, oh, yes.” She traced his lips with a finger still imprisoned in a glove. “All the pleasure I felt with the machine cannot compare to the pleasure I feel when I am in your arms.” She licked her lips. “Nicholas, I want to give myself to you.”
“Oh God.” His head fell into his hand.
She placed a palm against his chest. “Nicholas?”
He lifted his head and looked into her eyes. His tears glistened in the pale light. “I burn for you, Helena. I cannot tell you how much I burn for you.”
His mouth descended on hers, their lips and tongues merging and twining urgently, frantically, perfectly. Somehow, after only two encounters, she knew what he wanted, what he needed and how to give it to him. And he understood her desires before she even knew them herself. Their quick familiarity reassured her that when he made love to her it would not be shocking and disagreeable as she had been told at school but liberating and sublime, the stuff of poetry.
He clutched her closely, humming his satisfaction against her mouth. She threaded her fingers through his hair to hold his head steady as she dared to break free and kiss his cheeks, rough and masculine under her delicate lips.
His mouth trailed down her neck, sizzling against her tingling skin, his lips searing her shoulder, not stopping, his fingers working the buttons at her back. She sighed when he kissed the tender flesh of her
bosom, shuddered as his tongue flicked under the neckline of her dress. Her bodice loosened and slipped from her shoulders, exposing the layers of fine undergarments. His hands slid along her waist to gently cup her breasts, pushing them above her corset, pulling aside the cambric corset cover, the linen chemise, exposing her naked flesh to the night’s chill.
She gasped when his thumbs teased the tender peaks and discovered a new thrill when he drew an excited nipple into his mouth, a thrill that shot all the way to the most intimate of places between her legs, now hot and moist like the tongue tormenting her.
She now knew what her body craved when she pleasured herself.
Him. Inside her.
She arched her back, inviting further invasion. “Nicholas, my love, I want you. Now. Please.”
He suddenly stopped, his labored breathing burning her décolletage. “Oh God, Helena, darling,” he whispered against her. “We both know we should not be doing this.”
“Do you want to do this?” His lips and tongue met her heaving chest with every inhale.
“God, yes. This and so much more.” He lifted his face, his expression like a guilty, needy boy.
She placed her hand on his thigh. His muscles tightened and tensed at her touch. He stared at her apprehensively. She slid her hand along the fine wool until she found the heated hardness between his legs. Nicholas sucked in air as she glided her thumb up and down the wondrous length.
“Is—is this what you want to do to me?” she asked brazenly.
“Yes.”
She grasped the shaft thick with lust. “Will it make me faint?”
“Faint?” he queried unsteadily.
“Like in the books.” Each stroke of her palm elicited a sigh of masculine need. “I mean, will it hurt?”
“No. It feels wonderful.” His voice was rough and hoarse.
He shifted, moving one leg until he was straddling the bench. Helena kept her hand on his crotch, exploring with utter fascination. She looked up at him, questioningly. He nodded.
With a boldness she had never imagined, Helena took off her gloves, unbuttoned his trousers and drawers and pulled up his shirt. His erection jutted forth, its smooth tip inviting touch. She hardly knew what to do and fingered him tentatively.
ThePleasureDevice Page 17
