Sweet Torture

by Dayna Quince

  “Dearest, I would like to introduce you to someone.”

  Lydia turned to find her mother standing with an older gentleman she had never seen before. She smiled politely.

  “It is my pleasure to introduce my lovely daughter, Lady Lydia.” Lady Covington beamed with pride as Lydia executed a perfect curtsy. “This is Lord Caverly, Earl of Blankwort. He resides here in Hampshire and is well-known for his extensive collection of ancient Greek literature.”

  “How do you do, Lady Lydia?” Lord Caverly took her hand and brushed a chaste kiss across her knuckles.

  “Very well, thank you. I hope you are enjoying the fine weather today.” Lydia glanced at her hand still clasped in his.

  “Very much so. Lady Covington has told me so much of you and your accomplishments that I insisted on an introduction at once. It is an honor to be acquainted with such a virtuous young lady.” He beamed.

  Lydia smiled back tentatively. Lord Caverly had to be somewhere around her mother’s age. He stood just a couple inches taller than Lydia, had salt and pepper hair, and creases around kind grayish blue eyes. He must have been handsome as a young man. Instead of letting himself go as older gentlemen of privilege did, he looked remarkably fit, albeit a little soft around the middle. Lydia looked to her mother inquisitively and wondered how they knew each other. Her mother’s delight was palpable, and Lydia was perplexed. Was her mother looking for a husband?

  “I have not seen you around town, Lord Caverly. Do you favor the season?” Lydia carefully took her hand from his and folded her hands in front of her.

  “I do not. Much too crowded for my tastes. I prefer the quiet of Hampshire, where I can stay close to my books but still have the city near for the necessities. I do frequent London but not for social occasions. That duty fell to my wife, God rest her soul as she passed two years ago.”

  “You have my sincerest condolences, my lord.” Lydia grew uncomfortable. Usually, she could pick up the meaning behind introductions her mother brought to her, but she was only growing more confused.

  “Lady Caverly was a friend of mine growing up, dear. It was only recently I came across Lord Caverly, while shopping on Bond Street, and became reacquainted. How fortunate he should come here today.” Lydia’s mother beamed at both of them. “Lord Caverly is also an excellent huntsman and has agreed to participate in the archery contest. Isn’t that just delightful, Lydia? We must do all we can to show him that life is considerably more tolerable outside his books. Perhaps, if you are there to cheer him on, he will take first prize!”

  Outwardly, Lydia smiled politely at her mother and Lord Caverly, but inside alarm bells started ringing. A widowed man of Lord Caverly’s age only had one reason to attend a social gathering such as this, and it wasn’t to win archery contests. He was in need of a wife and most likely an heir to his title.

  “That would be delightful,” Lydia responded. It appeared her mother was of the idea Lord Caverly would make a suitable spouse for her daughter. He wasn’t bad looking, but he certainly wasn’t the stuff young girls dreamed of when picturing their future husbands. An image of Devon popped into her head. She could not stop herself from comparing the two men. Devon was young, strong, and beguilingly handsome. He oozed charm and sinful wit. Lydia knew from experience that underneath his fine gentleman’s clothes, his body was muscular and lean. She could feel it when she had her body pressed against his and her arms around him. Lydia dropped her head to hide her blush but was unsuccessful.

  Sensing her discomfiture, her mother took her hand and gave it a gentle pat. “We won’t keep you, Lydia. I can see your friends have arrived. Why don’t you go greet them?” She turned to Lord Caverly. “My Lydia will make an exceptional hostess for her future husband, whomever that may be.”

  Oh, dear God. Lydia quickly curtsied to Lord Caverly and made her escape. Her cheeks were practically boiling in embarrassment as she turned around and saw Olivia and Devon coming across the lawn. Her eyes instantly connected with Devon, and it seemed as if he were all she could see. She turned and walked away from the party, heading toward the folly and its seclusion. She could not control her emotions and feared that if she stayed and tried to put on airs of serenity, she would fail miserably. Her stomach was tied in knots, and her mind jumbled with thoughts and feelings she couldn’t harness. She hurried away from the sounds of guests and reached the folly, collapsing onto a cushioned bench. It opened to the water where a swan gracefully glided across the surface. The sun bounced off the water, creating cozy warmth inside the folly, and cast wavering streaks of light across the walls. Lydia exhaled in relief and put her hand to her brow. What in the world was she going to do? Until now, she had never given much thought to the man she would marry, but it would appear her mother had, and if her mother made the choice for her, what was she to say?

  Lydia remembered their last conversation about marriage, and it suddenly made sense. She would choose an older gentleman for her own daughter and expect not even a peep of disobedience from Lydia. Why would she? Lydia has always done exactly as told, and never once voiced her own opinion or complained to her mother. It seemed a marriage of convenience would be her fate, and as for love and passion? Well…

  Her traitorous mind produced an image of Devon. His smile, his eyes, the feel of his lips… A marriage bed with Devon in it would be far from frightening. He could soothe each fear with a kiss or with the touch of his hands. But Lydia could never marry Devon. Her mother would never allow it, nor would she be able to marry any young handsome gentleman, unless he could prove himself as moral and virtuous as a priest. Such a man did not exist. Lydia would have to accept a life and marriage as coolly tempered as her reputation.

  The thought alone made her want to cry. A mere week ago, she probably would have found the idea acceptable but now? Now that she knew what she could feel in the arms of a man just from mere kisses, she would know what she was missing every day for the rest of her life. Perhaps if she married a man like Devon, she would at least feel that incendiary passion for a little while before his fickle attentions moved on, or maybe, just maybe, she would be enough for her husband, and he wouldn’t have the need to stray.

  Lydia could hear footsteps coming down the gravel path and quickly smoothed her skirts, sat up straight, and clasped her hands in her lap. She gazed at the water and composed her expression to one of contentment. A figure came around the corner and stepped into the folly. Lydia looked up and found Devon gazing at her with a frown.

  “I did not think you were a coward.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Lydia replied quizzically.

  “I saw you run away. The formidable Lydia ran to ground instead of facing her adversary. Am I that intimidating?”

  Lydia didn’t know how to respond. Nothing was the same, including her own mind. Everything she thought she knew about herself and her world was upside down. How could one even begin to explain that? She could confide in him. In fact, he was one of the few people she could be herself around. That had to mean something.

  “It wasn’t you I was running from, I was just…overwhelmed, I suppose.” She smiled blandly and slid over on the bench. “Would you like to have a seat?”

  “It still isn’t like you. Is something amiss?”

  His brow creased with concern, and at once, Lydia’s heart gave a hard thud. She looked into his eyes and fell into them. He cared for her; it was true. Maybe he didn’t know it, and perhaps it wasn’t the true love she dreamed of, but he did care for her, and in that moment, she wanted him to kiss her, to hold her. In that moment, she wanted to believe that they could be together, and in his arms, she would find that passion and fire that his kisses alluded to. She hadn’t even realized she reached for him until her fingers threaded into his hair, and her gaze moved to his lips. He would not deny her, and true to form, he dipped his head without question and gave her what she wanted.

  Their lips brushed and then clung. Lydia brought her other hand up to his hair and held him to her as if an
y moment they could be ripped apart. Devon brought one hand to her nape and held onto the bench for balance with the other. His tongue swept across the seam of her lips, and she gladly opened to him. They tasted each other with searching caresses, exploring and satisfying. Her fingernails bit into the skin of his scalp. He pulled away until they broke apart. Lydia turned away and looked out over the water. She gently touched her swollen lips with her fingertips.

  “What are we doing here, Lydia? It can’t go on like this.”

  He broke the silence and began the very conversation Lydia had thought of only moments ago. She was not sure what she needed from him, but she wasn’t ready to let him go.

  “I was going to ask you to meet me here so we could talk, but you found me anyway. I wanted to ask you the same thing.” She turned to him and found the same painful confusion in his eyes. It seemed the torture was mutual.

  “I won’t deny I want you. I can’t explain how it came to be. I just suddenly… And there you were.”

  “I don’t understand it either but… I don’t want to deny it. I know I can’t expect marriage from you, and I am not asking it of you, but I won’t be treated like some…mistress. I want to know what this is… I want to experience this before I become some docile proper wife. Is that horrible?”

  “Being a docile and proper wife? Yes, that sounds absolutely horrendous,” he quipped.

  “You know what I mean.” Lydia elbowed him in the ribs, but he had succeeded in making her smile. “I will not be your play thing or just some conquest.”

  “Is that what you think I feel, like playing with you?” He scowled. “If you believe I could treat you that way then you don’t really know me at all.”

  “No, I don’t believe that, but it needs to be said. You have quite the reputation, and I want no part of it. No one must know of this—whatever you call it—affair?” She looked at him dubiously.

  He stared back at her dumbfounded. “Lydia, do you know what you are saying?”

  “Yes and no,” she replied honestly.

  “I need to know how you feel about me before any of this can continue. Do you want me?” he asked firmly.

  “I don’t even know what that means, Devon, to want someone.” She blushed furiously and looked down at her hands in her lap.

  “It means you want to kiss me and want me to kiss you. It means you want to touch me and I, you. It means you want to give yourself to me.”

  Lydia felt those last words snake down her spine. She could feel goose bumps rising on her skin and her nipples hardening under her bodice. She felt so wanton and shameless, but yes, that was exactly what she wanted. Did she have the nerve to say it aloud to him?

  “Yes, I want that,” she whispered.

  Devon was silent but a powerful energy radiated from him, warm and alive. His breaths grew quicker and louder, and then he spoke. “But what will it all mean? You made it clear you would never marry a man like me. Am I just a champion stud? Will I be paid for these services?”

  “That is cruel, Devon. You know I don’t see you that way, and you know I cannot marry someone with your reputation. My mother has made it clear. I don’t have a choice in the matter. I will be married off to some aging gentleman of good means, who will never be anything more than a breakfast companion. That is the life that has been chosen for me.” She stood and faced him. “What I want is to know what I am feeling for you, and to experience it before becoming that cold placid wife that I will spend the rest of my life loathing. Can you understand that? As a man, you have the right to live and experience passion and desire. I do not. I just want the chance, Devon. Now here you are kissing me and touching me, and I’m discovering that I like it and I want it. I want you.”

  “That’s settled then, but how far are you willing to go?” He stood and pulled her closer. “The road to paradise can be long, with many exciting and satisfying stops along the way, but it must end somewhere. It all leads to something. Are you prepared for that? Will you greet your future husband without your innocence intact?”

  “I can only go so far, Devon. Can you accept that?”

  “I will agree as long as you agree to follow my lead. In this arena, I am the master and you are the pupil.” He smiled tensely.

  He was clearly not happy but relief flooded her. “I agree. Now that’s settled, we should return to the party separately. I will go first.” She paused and looked to him. “I don’t know what to do from here,” she admitted.

  “Just follow my lead, you can trust me.”

  Lydia nodded and left the folly. She had already spent too much time away from the party. She felt dizzy with anticipation, but whatever happened next between them would be up to Devon. As she merged with the outer edges of the party guests, she could see her mother parading Lord Caverly from group to group. It reaffirmed her resolve. Lord Caverly wouldn’t necessarily be her future husband, but he was the exact type her mother expected her to marry. She spotted Olivia holding court next to the refreshment table and headed in her direction. Olivia beamed excitedly when she drew sight of Lydia and waved her over.

  “I’ve been searching for you. Where ever have you been?” Olivia looped her arm through Lydia’s, and turned her toward the group.

  “Oh, here and there, mostly avoiding my mother,” Lydia confessed. She smiled in salutation to everyone present in the surrounding circle.

  Olivia gave her a speaking glance then changed the subject. “Mr. Kinhart was discussing the symbolic use of angels in art. I think they are tediously overused, personally.”

  “Lady Olivia has made her opinion of celestial beings quite clear,” Mr. Kinhart chuckled. “While I cannot say the same for cherubs, I do believe angels portrayed as women can add a depth to the piece, depending on the concept of the work.”

  “I see what you mean, Mr. Kinhart. Would you please excuse us? I need to discuss traveling plans with Lady Olivia.” They nodded graciously and parted from the small group. Stepping away from prying ears, Lydia pulled Olivia aside. “What do you know?”

  “Nothing!” Olivia’s eyes widened. “I did, however, have the pleasure of being introduced to your Lord Caverly.”

  “Oh dear, he is not my Lord Caverly. I only met him today, as well.” Lydia groaned.

  “Well, it certainly seems your mother wishes for a much closer connection.” Olivia scanned the crowd.

  “Is that your impression or the general impression my mother is giving to everyone?”

  “I cannot say. He didn’t seem a bad sort, but I could have been reading between the lines. Your mother does seem to be setting the stage for something.” Olivia smiled sympathetically.

  “She is of the mind that he would be good husband material for me. She has not said as much, but I suspect she will as soon as we enter the carriage to go home.” Lydia spotted her mother again. It seemed Lord Caverly had finally escaped her clutches and was—hopefully—running for the hills. “I’m to cheer him on during the archery contest. I cringe when I think of what sort of gossip that will fuel. I have never given preference to any single gentleman in society. How will it look when I start now?”

  “It will look as if you have decided to take a husband,” Olivia confirmed her fears. “Why is she encouraging an older gentleman? Surely, a younger gentleman would suit you just was well?”

  “Why do you think? A young man will only break my heart and humiliate me with his scandalous behavior,” Lydia said cynically.

  “You don’t really believe that, do you?” Olivia frowned.

  “No, but I can see where she is coming from. She is trying to protect me, and I cannot argue with that.”

  “That’s preposterous. You are much too intelligent to marry a man undeserving of you. I don’t see how you can throw away a chance at love for a safe marriage. An older gentleman is just as capable of hurting you.” Olivia shook her head in disbelief. “What about love, Lydia?”

  “What chance at love do I have, Livie? What good would it do me to love a man who will hurt m
e and betray me? Young men are fickle, selfish womanizers,” Lydia said coldly.

  “Like my brother?” Olivia folded her arms across her chest and scowled.

  Lydia felt her cheeks color with embarrassment. “You deny your brother’s reputation?”

  “I deny that he could behave with such cruel intentions. He is an honorable man and would not betray his wife.” Olivia blushed angrily.

  “I’m sorry, Olivia, but you cannot deny that we both have different views of your brother. I agree there are many honorable qualities about him but… I don’t know… Life was easier when we were children.” Lydia turned away. She didn’t want to fight about Devon; he already spent too much time in her thoughts as it was. What could she say? She agreed to a dalliance with him moments ago, and now she is going to criticize his character? The truth was, much to her own surprise, that if it were not for her mother, Devon would be the man she would set her cap for. She could foolishly fall in love with him, if she didn’t know better—but unfortunately, she did.

  “The point is moot. There is no love between your brother and me, so it makes no difference. I will honor my mother’s wishes when it comes time for me to marry.”

  Olivia shook her head sadly. “I want the best for you, Lydia. You are my dearest friend. I hope you find great happiness.”