Miss Winthorpe's Elopement

by Christine Merrill

  ‘Or two,’ he prompted.

  ‘Then I am free to do as I like?’

  ‘We both will be. The marital obligations are fulfilled. Gossip is silenced. We can go our separate ways, as planned, even while remaining under the same roof.’

  ‘Like everyone else.’

  ‘If we wish.’

  He was right, which made it all the more maddening. After the initial display of temper, he had presented his case most rationally. He was not asking more than an average husband would expect. She had been the one to make the unreasonable request. But he was quite upfront about his willingness to return to her plan, once the niceties were performed. Other than the absolute terror she felt, when she thought of what they would do together, she could find no flaw in his logic.

  She stared at him. ‘And you are willing to…with me.’

  ‘Of course.’ He said it as though the fact somehow answered her question.

  ‘But when we married…there was no plan to… I never expected that you would want…’

  He smiled. ‘If I had found the idea repellent, I would never have agreed to continue with the marriage. And I will admit, as we have grown familiar with each other, I have been giving the matter some thought. I have no wish to force you, of course. But neither can I stand idly by while you take a lover.’

  If he was to be believed, he had been faithful to her, despite opportunity and temptation, for the brief duration of their marriage. And it must be true, for he would gain nothing by lying, since she did not care.

  But if she did not care, then why was the idea so flattering? As was the idea that he was seriously considering… She looked at him, sitting beside her, with the candlelight in his eyes, and the beginnings of a beard shadow on his pale cheek. He was the most beautiful man she had ever seen. She could not help an uncontrollable attraction. It was why she had learned to look at him as little as possible, much as one learned not to stare directly into the sun.

  ‘Are you planning to answer today?’ he asked. ‘Because you have been quiet for a very long time, and I find it unnerving. If you wish more time to consider, I will understand.’

  ‘No. No, really I am fine.’ Tim had said she should let him charm her. And he was only asking her to do what she had secretly wanted for quite some time.

  ‘And?’ He made a gesture, as if to coax more words out of her.

  ‘Oh. Yes. And… Well… Although I did not expect it, I do not see anything unreasonable about your request. You are right. I will inform Tim, if he should flirt with me again, that his attentions are inappropriate. And I will…’

  He raised his eyebrows, and gestured again.

  ‘Accede to your request for…’ she searched for a word that was not too embarrassing ‘…collaboration.’

  He smiled. ‘Thank you. Shall we begin?’

  ‘Now?’ She slid down the couch to be as far away from him as possible.

  ‘I fail to see why not.’ He slid after her to be near to her again, and covered her hands with his. ‘I do not mean to take you here, if that is what frightens you. Now that I have your consent, it is not as if we need to rush.’

  ‘Oh.’ Her heart was hammering as his hands stoked up her arms, to touch her shoulders.

  ‘But I do find you quite fetching this evening. Which gave rise to the jealousy of a few moments ago. I feared that other men had noticed what I was seeing in you. For how could they not? Can you forgive me?’

  She blinked.

  ‘It was foolish of me. You should not have to bear the brunt of my mercurial temper.’

  She blinked again, and took a shaky breath.

  ‘I am afraid I have an overly passionate nature. But as such, it would be most out of character for me if I did not try to steal a kiss or two, to celebrate our last night in London and your successful entrance into society.’

  ‘A kiss.’ The words came out of her mouth on a sigh. And she nodded.

  ‘Or two.’ He reached behind her, to undo the hooks of her gown.

  ‘Then why…?’ She started forward, which only brought her closer to his body, and his hands worked to loosen her stays, proving again his knowledge of lady’s underthings.

  ‘I have been told that, although they are lovely, ballgowns tend to be rather constricting. It will be easier for you to relax if we undo your lacing.’

  ‘Oh.’ Perhaps he was right, for it was becoming difficult to catch her breath, especially when he held her the way he was doing now.

  He felt her trembling, and rubbed his cheek against hers and whispered, ‘You have not been kissed before?’

  ‘You did, once. When we first came to London.’

  He reached out, and took the glasses off the bridge of her nose, folding them up and setting them aside. ‘This will be very different, then.’ As his lips moved from her temple down to her mouth, she quite forgot to breathe. And her sudden gasp for air pulled his tongue into her open mouth, which, judging by the way he was using it, seemed to be his object, all along.

  He pushed her back into the cushions of the couch, and the kiss became harder, and he sucked, to bring her tongue to him, urging her to stroke and lick in return. This was no ordinary kiss, for there was no sweetness in it, just raw desire. And she opened herself to it, loving the feel of him, wanting her and claiming her for his own.

  And suddenly she realised the true reason he had opened her gown, for in her movements under him, her breasts had slipped out of the low bodice, and he was massaging them with his hands, and teasing the tips with his fingers, until she squirmed under him. Then his kiss travelled from her chin, to her neck, to her bare shoulder, before his hands cupped her breasts to bring the nipples, one by one, into his mouth. He settled his head against her, and began to suckle at them, the stubble on his chin rough against them, and the hair of his head, so very soft in contrast. His mouth pulled hard upon them, until she was arching her back, and moaning in pleasure. And then she felt the feeling rush through her body until it left her trembling in his arms.

  As he looked up and smiled at her, the clock on the mantel struck three. ‘That is enough for tonight, I think.’

  She tried to ask him what he meant, in stopping, but the words that came out of her were unintelligible.

  ‘Technically, I think I have fulfilled my promise.’ He was still smiling. ‘For that was one kiss. Two at most. I don’t recall stopping at any point in the last hour. Do you?’

  An hour? Had it been so long? She shook her head.

  ‘I could go longer, but it is late, and we are travelling tomorrow, as I promised. But your initial response was most favourable. I think it bodes well for our future together.’

  Their future? If tonight had been an indication of things to come, then she hoped the future was not distant. ‘When?’

  His smile broadened. ‘I am not sure. There is an art to these things. I would not want to hurry, but neither am I willing to wait too long. Some time after we have gone home, and can lie in our own bed for as long as we like, taking pleasure in each other.’ His hand dipped to her skirt, and he raised the hem. ‘You may let me know when you are ready.’ His fingers trailed up her leg, until they were above her knee and had searched out the top of her stocking. He ran his fingertips lightly along the bare skin above the silk, before untying her garter. The stocking slipped, and he pressed the pad of his thumb against the naked flesh of her inner thigh.

  She felt her legs trembling at the touch, and moaned in response.

  ‘Not that way, although it is music to hear, darling.’ He pulled the ribbon down her leg and waved it in front of her. ‘You will be ready when you are brave enough to take this back from me.’ And he tucked it into his coat pocket, and offered her his hand. ‘Now sit up, so that I may put your clothing back together, and we will go upstairs to let the maid take it apart again.’

  Chapter Sixteen

  The next day he sat across from her in the carriage, watching as she watched the road. She was not the uneasy traveller that had returned
with him from Gretna. As the city passed away to be replaced by villages and open road, he watched her taking in the changing landscape, returning to her book time and again, only to gaze back out the window. She was as happy in leaving London as a normal woman would be to go there.

  He shook his head and smiled to himself. Last night’s conversation had been more than strange. If it had been any other woman in the world, the solution would have been easy. The merest suggestion on his part, and an assignation would have been guaranteed. That he should have to explain the obvious, quietly and politely to his own wife, and then wait for her assent, was an idea beyond comprehension.

  But he had not realised, until last night, that their plan to remain apart was a disaster in the making. It had never occurred to him that his wife might have favourites, just as his friends’ wives did. That he had no right to expect her fidelity nor method to encourage it had struck him like a thunderclap.

  And to see his best friend at her side, so far from the ballroom, had churned up all the feelings of guilt that he had been trying to hide. If only Tim had told him not to be an idiot when he’d questioned him. But he had laughed it off, and given him a knowing look that said, ‘It would serve you right.’

  Adam must nip it in the bud immediately. He was not without charm. He had been told he was surpassingly handsome. And he was a duke, damn it all, which should be more than sufficient for even the most selective of wives. He would bring the sum total of his experience to bear on the problem and the inexperienced printer’s daughter would melt in his hands like butter.

  Was already melting, come to that. He’d felt her kisses the previous night, and seen the stricken look she had given him when he’d stopped.

  This morning, she sat there, her lips swollen and chapped from his kiss, and watched him when she did not think he would notice. This was much more of what he expected. She had not noticed him before, and he had not realised how it had annoyed him.

  Now she was aware. Sexually aware of him. Watching his hands and thinking that they had touched her. Watching his mouth and knowing that it would kiss her again. And wondering about the garter that lay coiled in his pocket, and what she might be willing to do to get it.

  He had wondered about that himself. He had imagined her response would be stiff and awkward, and perhaps a little cold. But the image of warm butter was more apt. Hot and delicious.

  He licked his lips, and she followed the movement of his tongue with fascination, before looking away and feigning interest in her book.

  It would not be too very long before she was as eager to give herself to him as he was to take her. He would do as he willed with her for as long as he liked—for a lifetime, if necessary—and there would be no more of this nonsense about taking lovers and leading separate lives.

  And it all would be settled before the first snows fell, and his wife realised that her main sources of entertainment for the long winter months would be visits from his brother Will, and their good neighbour, Tim. He would have no peace in his own home if he could not trust the woman he had married when she was out of his sight. And while he wished, in many things, he could emulate the fine character of his friend, he had no wish to marry for wealth, only to have the woman put horns on him and make him the laughing stock of London.

  They pulled into an inn yard for the evening, and he helped his wife from the carriage and told Jem to arrange food for them, a private sitting room, and a single bedroom.

  The servant could not hide his brief look of surprise, and followed it with an insolent glare before doing as he was bid. Later, after Penny was safely inside, he caught up with his wife’s servant, slouching the baggage toward the rooms. ‘Here, fellow. I wish a word with you.’

  Jem turned and set the bags on the floor and then straightened. For the first time, Adam noticed the bulk of the man, who stood several inches taller than he did, and was broad and strong of back, despite his advancing age. The servant glared down at him, too close for a bow in the enclosed space of the hallway, and touched his forelock. ‘Your Grace?’

  ‘Just now, in the courtyard. I did not like the look you gave me when I gave you instruction.’

  ‘So sorry, your Grace. I will endeavour to improve myself in the future.’ But the man was still looking at him as though concluding that one good slap would be all it might take to send the title to Will.

  Adam straightened as well, putting on the air of command that served him so well in the House of Lords. ‘It is no business of yours where your mistress sleeps. Or if we might choose to put aside the ridiculous arrangement created by Penny in favour of something closer to sanity. From this point forward, we will be acting as other couples do, and not as two strangers pretending to be married.’

  Jem’s eyes narrowed, and he said, ‘Very good, your Grace. Because all intelligent people aspire to a union that is the current mode of the day: full of luxury, casual carnality and pretence, but devoid of any sincere feeling between the parties involved. Unless one is to count the contempt you seem to have for one another. My mistress has never wanted more than her parents had: a true meeting of the minds and a deep and abiding affection, strong enough to transcend the bonds of life itself. When her father died, your Grace, it held no fear for him, for he was convinced that his wife waited for him on the other side. That is what my mistress expected. When she found she could not have it, then she wanted to be left alone, and in peace.’

  The servant looked down upon him again, as if he were still face down in the muck of the inn yard. ‘And in the end, she will have to settle for you.’ He picked up the bags that he had dropped, balanced them easily on his shoulders, and started down the hall. ‘This way to your room, your Grace.’

  She was waiting for him, there, in the tiny sitting room that connected to the room where they would sleep. A supper had been laid for them on the low table: cold meat pies, cakes, ale for him and tea for the lady.

  And as he came to her, she hastily set down the mug of ale, and wiped some foam from her lips. She looked down, embarrassed. ‘I’m sorry. You must think me frightfully common.’

  He smiled. ‘For doing something that you enjoy?’

  When she looked back at him, there was fear in her eyes. A desperation to please him that hadn’t been there before the party. She hadn’t given a damn for what he thought of her then. But things had changed. ‘I suspect the wives of your friends do not steal ale from their husband’s mug when he is not looking.’

  He sat down next to her. ‘They do things far worse.’ He tasted the ale. ‘And this is quite good. We can share it, if you like.’ He set the mug between them, and reached for his plate. His sleeve brushed against her arm; instead of shying from him, as she once might have done, she leaned to be closer.

  And when she did it, his heart gave a funny little leap in his chest. He covered the feeling by taking another sip of ale. Not knowing how to proceed, he said, ‘I spoke to my brother last night as the guests were leaving. Apparently, you told him how your work was progressing.’

  She gave a little shake of her head. ‘I am afraid I am not very good at small talk. I’m too little in public to have the knack of it.’

  ‘No,’ he corrected quickly. ‘It was all right. More than all right. He was most impressed by you, and told me so. Still a little surprised, of course, that I found a woman with a brain who would have me.’

  She laughed. ‘What an idea, that the Duke of Bellston could not attract a woman of intelligence. I used to read the papers, and imagine what it would be like to meet you. I was sure that your wife would need her wits about her at all times if she were to speak to you at all.’

  ‘Then you must have been sorely disappointed to find so little challenge…’ He stopped. ‘You used to imagine me?’

  She put her hand to her temple, to hide her embarrassment. ‘There. The truth is out. I sat at home reading Greek, and shunning society, spinning girlish fancies over a man who I would never meet. I assumed, by the wisdom of his speeches, he
must be long married, and perhaps already a grandfather. I would never dare speak to him. But perhaps, if I could ever find the nerve, I would write to him with a question concerning his position on something or other, perhaps pretending to be my brother, or some other male, and he might deign to answer me.’

  ‘And then you found me drunk in the street, and I hauled you to London and ignored you, and then forced you to dress in ribbons and dance with my friends, while I sat in another room, playing cards.’ He laughed until tears came to his eyes, and when he noticed she was still pink with mortification, he pulled her close, and hugged her to him until he felt her laugh as well.

  Then he buried his face against her neck, and murmured, ‘I hope we are close enough now that, if you have any questions, you will not feel the need to submit them in writing.’

  She said, ‘I…think whatever I meant to ask you has gone quite out of my head.’

  ‘Speak of something you know, then. For I do love the sound of your voice.’ He breathed deeply, taking in the scent of her hair.

  ‘Do you want me to ask for my garter, now?’ It was the barest whisper, fearful, but full of hope as well.

  And it tugged at his heart, to know how hard she had been trying to be what he wished, and how little he had done to make it easy for her. ‘No games tonight.’ He put his arms around her. ‘Come. Sit in my lap. Tell me about your work. What is it about this Odysseus fellow that makes him worth the attentions of my Penelope?’

  She hesitated at first, and then did as he said, wrapping her arms around his neck and whispering the story to him. He relaxed into the cushions of the divan, and thought what a great fool Odysseus must have been to get himself so cursed that he couldn’t find his way back, and to waste time with Calypso or Circe when everything he needed was waiting at home.

  When she finished, it was late. The fire was low and the candles were guttering. She lay still against him for a moment, and then said, ‘I have talked too long.’

  He stroked her head, and pulled a pin from her hair. ‘Never. But it is time for bed. Let me help you.’ He pulled more pins from her hair, uncoiling braids and combing them out with his fingers. He had never seen it down before, and the softness surprised him. He ran his fingers through the length of it, and closed his own eyes. ‘Silk. I have never felt anything so soft.’