His Hand-Me-Down Countess: The Lustful Lords, Book 1

by Sorcha Mowbray

  Chapter 11

  Theo sat in the back row of seating for the Swintons’ soiree. Where could Stone be? He had departed the house, leaving her another hasty note that told her little about what caused his unexpected departure. Had he discovered that the Swinton affair was a musicale? He had insisted early on there would be no musicales on their social calendar. As a result, she had resorted to omitting such facts when she described the various invitations they received. There would be too many missed events if she adhered to his demands. It simply wasn’t done.

  But still he had not arrived. Had something happened to one of his friends? Or perhaps his mother? The dowager countess had only recently come out of mourning, and at her age, anything could happen. No, his note had indicated he would join her that evening. Still, she’d been disappointed not to make her grand entrance in her new gown. The sapphire color with navy trim was simple but elegant, with pleated edges, a vee-shaped neckline, and an overlap detail on the skirt that created a wrapped effect. Without a doubt, it was her new favorite when paired with her sapphire necklace. And her husband’s conspicuous absence had her forgetting about her clothing and worrying about him.

  “Lizzy where could Stone be?” she whispered as the first performer took her seat at the piano.

  “He’ll come. No need to worry pointlessly.” Lizzy turned to listen to yet another halting rendition of Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata.”

  Theo repressed the sigh that strained to escape. Then a warm presence settled into the empty seat on her right. Startled, she looked up to see her husband’s dark countenance. He said nothing as he stared at her with a mixture of brooding worry, confusion, and a spark of anger. Annoyance over her omission of the nature of the evening’s events should not have resulted in such a swirling mix of emotions.

  Something was wrong.

  But then his gaze drifted over her gown and the stones at her neck, and his expression cleared. He reached over to pluck her hand from her lap and tuck it under his arm. It was as if he’d pulled off a mask and replaced it with a more pleasing version. Theo was mystified.

  They sat—suffered, if her husband was to be believed—through six more mediocre performances of voice and instrument. Once the gathering was free to move about, he guided her into the gardens for a breath of fresh air.

  “Good evening, Theo.” His gaze roamed over her person in an intimate caress.

  “Hello, Stone. Where did you run off to tonight? As I recall, we were to arrive together.” Curiosity got the better of her. If he dubbed her a nosy harpy, then so be it.

  “You remember the Earl of Brougham? He requested I join him at White’s for a bit. He came across some investment information he thought would interest me.”

  “Really, Stone. And you’d have me believe such information would compel you to rush off and leave me a cryptic note in explanation?” She arched a brow in disbelief. “Honestly, if you do not wish to tell me where you went, you simply need only say so.”

  He sighed. “Very well, I had an urgent errand to run, and I do not wish to discuss it.”

  “There, now, was that so hard?” Though still curious to the point of agitation, she was much happier with the honesty of his latter statement than the untruth of the former.

  “No, in truth, it wasn’t.” He hesitated as though considering something. “Theo—”

  “There you are, Lady Stonemere.” Lady Swinton glided into the garden. “We are organizing a second round of music. Would you honor us with a song?”

  Theo flushed. Dear God, was the woman mad? Obviously, the marchioness had never heard her sing, which wasn’t surprising since she did not sing in public.

  “Oh—Lady Swinton, I—” Theo pressed her fingertips to her temple in distress.

  Stone intervened, to Theo’s relief. “Lady Swinton, I’m afraid my wife is not feeling just the thing. I brought her outside for a breath of fresh air. If you will excuse us, I believe I shall escort her home.”

  “I am sorry to hear you are not well. Of course, you should retire for the evening. My cook has a wonderful tisane I simply could not live without. May I fetch the recipe for you?”

  Theo winced. “That is very generous of you, my lady. However, Mrs. Beats has her own recipe she swears by. I can only imagine the uproar if I appeared with another formula.”

  Lady Swinton nodded sagely. “Too true. Staff can be so difficult to manage at times. Well, off with you. Perhaps next time you might honor us with a performance.”

  “I shall consider it,” Theo demurred and latched on to her husband’s arm. Whereupon he ushered her into the house and out through the front door.

  Safely tucked into their carriage and headed home, Theo tried to study her husband by moonlight. In the last hour, he had swung wildly from dark and brooding to pleasant and amenable to solicitous and caring. Her head spun with the effort to keep up with him. “Thank you for intervening with Lady Swinton.”

  “It was clear if she had pressed, you would have been forced to do something drastic, like fake your death. Am I to understand you are not musically accomplished?”

  She couldn’t see him very well as the moon had slipped away into the dark, but she could hear the smile in his voice. “I daresay I am an accomplished assassin of all things musical. And yes, faking my death was a consideration.” Theo couldn’t suppress her mirth.

  “Well then, as your husband and protector, it was my duty to save you from such drastic measures. What remains to be seen is how you shall escape in future.”

  The carriage pulled to a halt. “Why, don’t you see the obvious solution?”

  “I’m afraid I don’t.” Stone exited the vehicle and turned to help her.

  “I shall not attend any musicales in future.” Theo grinned and swept past her husband to enter Denton House.

  His chuckle followed her into the house.

  * * *

  His wife was full of surprises. Perhaps she would understand his sullied past? Perhaps she even shared some of his proclivities? The notion appeared so far-fetched, he discarded it before it even fully formed. No, things were best left as they were. Even if she had become aware of his history, there was no reason to air the details and potentially embarrass her. Or worse, repulse her.

  Upstairs, they retreated to their separate rooms. Once naked, he slipped his robe on and approached his wife’s chamber. Sinking his cock into her depths might go a long way toward easing his concerns and doubts.

  She called out for him to enter, and he found her in a delectable state of dishabille. With her hair tumbled about her shoulders, her chemise proved the only barrier to her many charms. And there, still encircling her neck, were the sapphires he had given her. Yes, tupping his wife would ease his concerns. Or so he hoped.

  From where he stood, he beckoned her over with the curling of one digit, which she responded to effortlessly. “Remove my robe.”

  A silent nod preceded the requested action. Nude beneath the now-missing garment, he watched as her gaze roved over his chest and then lower. Her breath hitched in the sweetest demonstration of his effect on her. Then her hands followed the path her gaze had traveled, punctuated by the occasional press of her lips to his skin.

  Desire flared through him. “Wife, I do not think I can be gentle tonight.”

  “I don’t recall asking you to be gentle, husband.” She continued to explore his body, pausing here and there to caress each battle-carved scar that pocked his skin.

  He wanted to push her away from the sight, but her touch was so sweet, he could not make himself end the delicious torture. Not yet.

  “What have you done to your body?” Her concern poked at the soft spot deep in his core.

  How did she slip past his hardened defenses so easily? He groaned as she kissed and nipped at his stomach, then down his hips. When her hand wrapped around his turgid length, his hips pumped forward in an instinctive twitch. He shook with the desire to push his cock past her honeyed lips and thrust into the source of such sweet
ness.

  The first swipe of her tongue caused his heart to stop and restart. Never had he imagined his wife doing such a thing. It was scandalous enough that he had kissed her so intimately, but he had not anticipated such reciprocation. Then he thought no more as her mouth opened wide and covered the tip of him.

  He moaned. “Oh God. Feels. So. Good.”

  And with each word of encouragement, she pushed lower onto his shaft, taking more of him into her warm, wet mouth. Then her hands decided to explore. Her dainty fingers trailed down to his inner thigh and over his stones. The flicker of sensation jolted him, and he fisted his hands, all the while curbing the desire to sink them in her silky hair. Because once there, he would hold her head as he pumped into her mouth in a debased mimicry of sex.

  His body hummed with a need he could not have prepared himself to control. In a last-ditch effort, he pushed her away from his cock, felt the loss of her heat when she was pried off the tip. She dropped to the floor, where she lay sprawled in surprise. Wild with the need to be inside her, to mark her, he flipped her over onto her hands and knees, knelt behind her as he shoved her chemise up, and plowed into her from behind like the animal he knew himself to be.

  He gave the beast some leash and thrust into her over and over again until the slap of flesh on flesh punctuated by an occasional grunt was the only sound to be heard. He gripped her hips and buried himself deep with each long stroke. She moaned and pushed back into his hips as her form started to shake. Her climax slammed through her and reverberated into him as her channel clutched at his cock in a fierce paroxysm.

  Their bodies slickened with sweat as he pounded into her until she was spent and could barely hold herself up. Then he allowed his orgasm to take him over the edge. Pleasure zipped up from his balls to his fingers and toes, causing them to curl. With each pulse of his climax, he howled with pleasure as he came deep inside her. His limbs still tingled with the effects of his release as he lay with his chest plastered to Theo’s back and struggled to catch his breath.

  Once reality pierced his lustful haze, he cursed silently. What had he done to his wife? How would she ever forgive him for treating her so roughly? He withdrew from her quim and helped her find her legs as she stood. When he saw the rug burns on her hands and knees, he could not contain his self-disgust.

  “Oh Christ, Theo. What have I done to you?” he muttered, and then hefted her into his arms. He deposited her on the bed and helped her slip between the sheets.

  “Stone? It was lovely what you did.” And then she drifted off to sleep, exhausted from such strenuous lovemaking.

  And it was all his fault. The baseness of his needs and the desire to control, to dominate his partner. His wife. He was a wretched man unfit for a woman as fine as she. And with her attempt to ease his fears, she confirmed he was also corrupting her with his taint. Women like Theo were not raised to be handled so forcefully, but they were taught to accept their husband’s demands. Her willingness to accept his rough treatment must be some corruption stemming from him. She certainly wouldn’t actually enjoy such attentions.

  He strode from her bedroom and shut himself away in his chamber. He shook with the realization that he could not control his lusts enough to make proper love to his wife in a dignified manner. In an attempt to claim her, to allay his own fears, he had instead opened Pandora’s box.

  Chapter 12

  Theo hesitated at the top of the stairs on her way down to the breakfast room. She ached everywhere—her knees, her thighs, and deep in her core, where she was sure Stone had left his brand on her body. The stairs were daunting, but she smiled and pushed through. Weakness was not to be tolerated. She’d loved every minute of her night with her husband. How he’d let her explore the terrain of his frame, then flipped her over, and finally shoved into her body. Her center heated and softened at the memory.

  The first step down resulted in a medley of aches flickering to life. Her legs seized and her breath stalled. After that, each step got easier as she worked the kinks out of her muscles. Finally, at the bottom, she swept into the morning room to find it deserted. Double damn. She had been disappointed to wake in the dark of night alone. But she had cheered herself with the notion of sharing a cozy breakfast.

  She had been thwarted, and it was not an experience she relished.

  Her frustration had simmered as she sat down to breakfast, but by the time she ate and set out to run her errands, she had pushed her turmoil aside. And when she stood outside her pride and joy—the one thing in all her life that she she’d done right—nothing else mattered.

  The children who were fortunate enough to have found their way to The Benevolent Foundling Home for Boys and Girls were those who had been thrown away by Society or otherwise forgotten. Usually, Mrs. Richter, her headmistress, got word of a child in need, but occasionally one simply appeared on their doorstep. Theo had once considered establishing a board to help fundraise and otherwise oversee the home, but every time she attended a function thrown by the women of Society, she knew it would be a mistake. So, she continued to sponsor the home herself, and thanks to a number of wise investments, she had more than enough to cover the home in addition to her other personal expenses.

  A boy scampered across the paltry space they called a yard and tripped over a small bush he couldn’t see as he tried to catch a ball. Theo took a step toward him, worried he might have injured himself, when he popped up from the ground with the ball in hand. “I caught it, you blighter! You owe me half your dinner portions tonight.”

  Mrs. Richter walked out in time to hear the boy’s announcement, and his foul language. “Jimmy, we’ll not have such talk here. And Harry will eat his own portions. Neither of you have need of more.”

  The two boys looked at her, one with a smile and the other looking very put out. Theo had to work hard to curb her amusement.

  “Lady Stonemere!” Mrs. Richter spotted her standing on the sidewalk and bustled over.

  For a moment, Theo wasn’t sure to whom she was speaking. She was still adjusting to her new title, as well as to her new husband. “Good morning, Mrs. Richter. I see the children are doing well.”

  “Indeed, they are. Quite well, in fact. Our younger class is inside having lessons while the older children are exercising off some energy.” She took Theo’s arm, and they started toward the front steps of the house.

  But Theo stopped their progress. She couldn’t help but stare across the fence at the open land that remained unused. “Has Mr. Hafferty had any visitors by to look at his land, by chance?”

  Mrs. Richter shook her head. “I and the staff have kept an eagle eye for visitors, but nobody comes by but the caretaker once a month.”

  “I promise, Mrs. Richter. I will get that land for us. I am bound and determined those children will have an open area to run and play where there aren’t hazardous bushes and too little space.”

  “I know you will, Lady Stonemere. Perhaps now with your new title, he’ll consider your offer?”

  Theo grinned. “What a capital idea! I shall take another run at the old goat today. Now, tell me how the children are doing. Are the new clothes holding up better?”

  * * *

  As promised, on her way home, Theo made a point to stop by the Hafferty Brothers’ Mercantile. How two brothers who barely spoke could work together escaped her, but somehow they managed to do just that. She spotted the elder Hafferty brother directing the shop assistant on a ladder against the wall of shelves. He was assisting a customer, so she simply smiled and waved at him as she went in search of the younger Hafferty. Although she thought of them as older and younger, they were both ancient by anyone’s standards.

  Determination pushed her forward as she approached the younger brother, the one she’d labeled an old goat. “Good afternoon, Mr. Hafferty.”

  The old man looked up at her, a smile flitting about his lips until he recognized her. “You again. Lady Lawton——”

  Drawing up to her haughtiest tone, one she’d
heard her mother use with unruly staff, she stared the man down. “If you don’t mind, it is Lady Stonemere now.”

  He frowned at her interruption. “Young lady, I would not care if you were the queen herself. I am not selling that land to you.”

  Frustrated beyond good manners, Theo demanded, “Whyever not? I have made you a fair offer. Is my money not good enough for you?”

  The old goat snorted. “Women have no business doing business. They belong at home. I will not sell to you or your man of affairs. My ridiculous brother may choose to encourage such hoydenish behavior, but I shall not. Besides, he had no business selling our family home.”

  “Mr. Hafferty, it is not as if I tore your family home down. I have repurposed it, filled it with children, laughter, and love.”

  The old man’s face turned beet red. “You have filled it with rabble.”

  “Have you no heart? They are children!” Theo turned on her heel and stormed from the store, frustrated that he refused to sell to her for such heartless and chauvinistic reasons.

  Furious that she would never be able to give her children the space to run and play, she stomped into her carriage and ordered the driver to take her home. She was in no mood to make social calls or shop.

  * * *

  Stone sat at his desk working his way through the stacks of correspondence that came with his duties in Parliament. Theo had been home only a few days, but her presence was often felt in the house. Today turned out to be no different. The front door slammed shut with a furious bang and then his wife barged into his study. For minutes, she said nothing directly to him. Instead, she simply paced the floor and muttered to herself until she stopped and drew a deep breath. “Why is it that men see women as little more than domestics?”