by Merry Farmer
“Turpin will rue the day he tried to come between the two of us,” he said, hoarse with longing.
“He will rue the day for more than just that.”
There was a triumphant gleam in Marigold’s green eyes as she stepped deeper into the room, toying with the sash of her robe. She hadn’t needed to put it on in the first place, assuming her intentions were what he thought they were, but the anticipation of waiting for her to shed the useless garment only made Alex harder.
“As it turns out, Turpin may have been too much of a villain for his own good,” Marigold said as she neared the edge of the tub.
“How so?” His heart pounded with the need to reach out and pull her into the bath with him, even though he was thoroughly enjoying simply looking at her.
She reached the edge of the tub and sat. Her robe opened enough to give him a glimpse of her bare leg and thigh. Supper suddenly took second place to other activities.
“The information Lady Stanhope gave you was about a former maid of Turpin’s named Ruby Murdoch,” she said, more businesslike than flirtatious. “I haven’t had much time to study it, but from what I gather, Turpin got the maid in trouble.” She glanced down and away with a flash of embarrassment before going on. “She is in St. Pancras workhouse now with her infant, but she was sent off to work at a place called the Black Strap Club first.”
Disgust and fear for the woman he didn’t know shot through Alex, flattening his growing erection and dousing his fire. “The bastard,” he growled.
Curiosity pinched Marigold’s face. “I made Able drive me past the Black Strap Club on the way here, and—”
“You did what?” Alex sat up, sloshing water close to the edge of the tub.
Marigold had the good sense to blush and look ashamed. “Able warned me that it was worse than a brothel, and yes, the place felt sinister to me. I saw a girl in one of the windows….” She swallowed, but didn’t go on.
Alex placed a wet hand on her thigh, both to comfort her and to remind himself that she was there with him, under his protection, and that evil like the kind Lord Shayles peddled couldn’t touch her.
“It is a brothel that specializes in deviant sexual practices,” he told her, needing to be honest, even though it killed him to damage her innocence that way. “Although the man who owns the place denies it, many believe the women who ‘work’ there are not at liberty. That is part of the appeal for the wretched souls who frequent the place.”
A horrified look twisted on Marigold’s face. “You mean, that woman I saw in the window was enslaved?”
Alex’s stomach twisted. “Possibly.”
“I should have done something.” Marigold stood, in a panic. “I should have called the police or gone to her rescue somehow.”
He took her hands as she moved to wring them, pulling her back down to sit. “My darling, it wouldn’t have done any good. The police are aware of the establishment, but either afraid to do anything about it due to the influence of the men who patronize the place or are being paid off by its owner.”
“But that’s appalling.”
“It is,” Alex agreed. He didn’t like the direction the conversation had gone in, and was no longer comfortable as he twisted in the tub, digging his knees into the side, in order to continue holding Marigold’s hands. Something had to be done. “Why don’t you join me, and we can wash away the filth that you’ve had a brush with?”
Marigold’s anxious look softened as she focused on him. It was clear that she wouldn’t forget what she’d just learned about the darker side of the world, but also that she was strong enough to rise above it.
“We must do something about Ruby,” she said, squeezing his hands.
“The maid?”
“Yes. I haven’t told you the full story yet,” she went on. “Between the time she spent at that horrible club and St. Pancras, she was arrested for prostitution. Which means that even though she did find a way to escape from that place, she fell out of the frying pan and into the fire. And while the workhouse may be a step up, those places are wretched. We need to do something.”
Alex let go of one of Marigold’s hands so that he could shift back to a more comfortable position and frowned in thought. Katya had given them Ruby Murdoch’s story for a reason, not just to shock Marigold. If Turpin truly had impregnated his maid then sold her into slavery at the Black Strap Club, and if all of that could be proved and made public, a scandal would be the least that would happen. If the case were presented right, Turpin could end up in prison. But only if they were careful every step of the way. And the first bit of care they needed to take was to get Miss Murdoch and her child out of the workhouse and into safety and security.
“I’ll send Phillips to fetch her from the workhouse as soon as possible,” he said, deciding on a course of action as he spoke. He glanced to Marigold. “We can keep her here, under our employ, if that’s what she wants, while the whole matter is investigated further. And if she feels secure enough, she might be willing to share her side of the story.”
Relief burst through Marigold’s expression, her shoulders sagging. “Thank you, Alex. Even if Turpin can’t be brought to justice for his crimes, I’ll feel better knowing Ruby is cared for.”
Alex met her smile with one of his own. There was a slim chance that hiring a notorious maid would upset his staff, but if worst came to worst, he would relocate Miss Murdoch to Winterberry Park.
“Now,” he said, his hand sliding from her hand to her thigh, fingering the hem of her robe in an effort to expose more of her leg, “why don’t you take off that silly robe and join me while the water is still warm?”
Marigold’s smile turned impish, and she stood, tugging at her robe’s sash. “Don’t you like this lovely bit of frippery my sister Flora gave me as a wedding gift?”
He was so grateful the mood had shifted back to where he wanted it to be that it made him reckless. “I like what’s under it more.”
She was close enough for him to grasp one end of the sash. He tugged before Marigold was ready, the sash untied, and her robe fluttered open, giving him a spectacular view of her luscious body. The skin of her stomach and thighs was pink and creamy. Her breasts were generous but still pert, and her nipples were large and a tempting shade of dark rose. The curve of her hips had blood rushing back to his groin, and the bush of curls that hid her womanly treasure left his fingers itching to explore her.
There was still a hint of nervous excitement in her eyes as she let the robe slide from her shoulders and tossed it aside. As responsive as she’d ended up being the night before, he forcibly reminded himself that she had virtually no experience and wasn’t ready for the full fire of his passion yet. That didn’t stop him from reaching for her waist as she stepped into the tub and drawing her down to straddle his thighs.
She made a fetching sound, somewhere between a gasp of awe and a squeak of discomfort, as she settled into the water with him. “What a strange sensation.”
“Don’t tell me you’ve never had a bath before,” he teased, having a hard time focusing on levity with her breasts so close to his face. He splashed warm water, fragrant from the soap he’d used earlier, up her sides and closed his hands over her breasts.
“No,” she laughed, moving uneasily above him, almost as if she were afraid to let her cunny rub against his growing erection. “But never with someone else.”
“I think you’ll find it’s rather delightful,” he teased, circling his arms to her back and swishing more water over her. “Although I’m not as nimble as I once was, so don’t expect fireworks.”
“Fireworks in the water?” She arched one eyebrow.
Desire shot through him. She was too inexperienced to know what a simple, teasing look like that could do to him, but she would learn in a hurry. He nudged her to lean forward enough for him to kiss her while still lounging against the back of the tub. She caught on, grasping the edge of the tub as their lips met.
Her lips held so much sweetness that
he closed his eyes and reveled in their touch. Between the warm water, the depth of his exhaustion, and the glow of desire filling him, he felt no need to rush. Gently, he coaxed her mouth open and began a slow exploration with his tongue while his hands smoothed down her back to her hips. He kissed her languidly, subtly urging her to relax and bring her hips into full contact with his. He would let her take the lead this time, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t impatient to feel her heat against his cock.
“I like kissing you,” she said after they’d been at it for several long minutes.
“How fortunate for us both,” he murmured. “I hope you enjoy other things as well.” He shamelessly circled his hands around her backside, guiding her to grind against him.
She drew in a quick breath and whispered, “Can you do that in the bath?”
“With enough effort, you can do that wherever you’d like,” he replied, teasing her with his most sultry grin.
Her already pink cheeks flushed deeper, and sparks filled her eyes. “Show me how,” she whispered, moving awkwardly against him.
“I’m not sure how comfortable it will be for your knees in this tub.”
“My knees are not particularly concerned at the moment,” she said.
He chuckled, adjusting to what he hoped would be the most comfortable position for her. “You’ll have to do most of the moving,” he explained, positioning her hips above him, then taking hold of himself to guide his way to her entrance. “Go slowly until you get the hang of it, then at whatever speed feels best to you.”
She nodded, excited but hesitant, until he arched into her. She sucked in a breath, her expression turning heavy-lidded with pleasure as he penetrated her. The look made him want to thrust hard and repeatedly into her until she was crying out with orgasm, but he stayed as still as he could, moving his hands back to her hips and guiding her to press down, taking him in farther.
“Oh, my,” she gasped, taking in more and more of him until he was lodged so deep he thought he might lose his mind. That feeling only intensified when she tightened her inner muscles around him, biting her lip, and clearly enjoying the sensation of sheathing him.
“You can move now,” he choked out, hands still on her hips.
“Like this?”
She pulled back, and Alex caught his breath at the friction. He stopped her just before he slipped out, shifting the pressure of his hands to show her what to do.
“Oh, I see,” she said with a shuddering breath and drew him in again.
She was a fast learner, although it was torture just to lay there, feet braced against the end of the tub, holding her hips while she slowly taught herself to ride him. He had to promise himself that, if he could just be patient now and let her have her way with him, he would make love to her the way he wanted to later, when they were in bed. Now it was her turn to find pleasure in him, and there was something sinfully sweet in letting her inexperience play itself out.
“This is nice,” she panted as she picked up her pace. She still gripped the back of the tub on either side of his head for purchase, but had leaned forward to the point where her breasts brushed his chest with each thrust. “This is exceptionally nice.”
“It is,” he agreed with a moan, not sure how long he could hold out. He didn’t think for a moment that he deserved the sensual sweetness of his young wife riding him in a way most society wives would never dream of. But as long as she didn’t mind learning to make love like a mistress instead of the way polite and stuffy advice manuals told women they should engage with their husbands, then he wasn’t going to complain.
He let her continue at her own pace until her soft moans and cries hinted she was frustrated at not quite being able to reach release. Then he tilted her back just a bit, sliding his hand between her curls, his fingers seeking out her folds. She gasped when he reached and rubbed her clitoris, and the energy in her thrusts was renewed. Suddenly, they were working for a common goal, and she arched into him, truly striving for it.
The sight of her body, wet and arched back, her breasts bouncing in the water, her nipples hard, her head thrown back with pleasure, was so potent that he almost couldn’t hold out until she came. It was a blessing when she gasped and cried out as her inner muscles contracted around him. He burst a moment later, letting out a fierce cry as the water in the tub splashed every which way in response to their combined movement.
All too soon, the magical sensation passed, and they both let go of the last of their energy, sinking into the cooling water. He grabbed the edges of the tub as she let go, sagging against him. A deep sense of contentment, like every last bit of the frustration and disappointment he’d had to deal with that day was worth it, filled him.
“And now,” he panted, stroking one hand down her back to squeeze her backside, “supper sounds like a good idea.”
She lifted herself up to stare at him, blinking. “Will your appetites never be satisfied, my husband?” She then burst into giggles that left him buzzing with happiness from the inside out.
He arched a brow, stealing a kiss. “With you as my wife? I don’t think they will.”
But he was ready to spend as long as it took attempting to find out.
Chapter 9
After a rocky start, Marigold settled into what she considered a triumphant married life with joy, and more pleasure than she ever could have bargained for. Alex was passionate, patient, and inventive in bed. She was embarrassed to look back on those first moments of her wedding night and how terrified she had been. Lady Stanhope had been right about how delightful sexual relations could be, and for the first six weeks of wedded bliss, not a day went by when Marigold and Alex weren’t wrapped up in each other, sweating and panting as they experienced well beyond twelve steps of carnal bliss.
It left Marigold in a triumphant mood, especially when it came to tackling the situation of Ruby Murdoch.
“Are you settling in well?” she asked Ruby as the young woman brought her hat and gloves to the front door, where Marigold was waiting for the carriage to be brought around to take her to the Palace of Westminster. It was late July, and Parliament was closing for the summer at last. She and Alex were heading to Winterberry Park, Alex’s country house in Wiltshire, the next day, but Ruby, who had been rescued from the workhouse within days of Marigold and Alex’s wedding, would be staying at Croydon House.
“Well enough, ma’am,” Ruby answered with a curtsy, her eyes downcast.
Marigold fastened her hat to her elaborate hairstyle, studying Ruby as she did. The young woman had been in a terrible state when Phillips had brought her back from the workhouse. Her skin had been pale and clammy, her face sunken, and she’d flinched at even the slightest advance any man made toward her. Except, perhaps, Phillips. She’d clutched her baby—a tiny girl named Faith—close, refusing to let Mrs. Clifford take her away to be washed and fed properly.
“It’s because the workhouse tried to take her away,” Phillips had whispered in Marigold’s ear as she’d watched, puzzled and horrified by the situation.
“I thought mothers were allowed to keep infants with them in the workhouse,” Marigold had whispered back.
“They are, ma’am, but the administrators were certain little Faith would die anyhow and didn’t want Ruby distracted from her work because of it,” Phillips had said.
The thought of Ruby losing her baby under such uncaring circumstances had horrified Marigold so much that she had allowed Ruby to have a room of her own with Faith instead of sharing a room with another maid, and she had instructed Mrs. Clifford to ease Ruby into her duties as housemaid, and to be kind to her. In addition, she had personally seen to it that a physician came to tend to Faith. She’d even spent an hour here and there cradling and cooing over the baby while Ruby attended to her duties. Those hours had made her own longing for a child so powerful that she engaged in her and Alex’s nocturnal activity with exceptional vigor.
The one thing neither she nor Alex, nor even the ever-patient Phillips, had b
een able to get Ruby to do was talk about Turpin or the Black Strap Club, or anything that would help Alex bring about the end of Turpin’s career and interference in Parliament. But there was still time.
“I plan to return as soon as the session is over,” Marigold explained to Ruby as the young woman handed over her gloves. “Although I expect Alex will stay a little longer. Lady Lavinia Prior and Lady Stanhope will be coming for supper this evening, then we are all going out to the theater one last time before everyone decamps to the country. Do you think you’ll have the oriental parlor tidied up by then?” she asked, even though it was a ridiculous question. Of course the parlor would be tidied. That was Ruby’s job, and she was surprisingly good at it. But the more Marigold could engage the shy woman in conversation, the closer she might come to talking about what they needed her to divulge.
But all Ruby said was, “Yes, ma’am,” and curtsied, still not looking her in the eye.
The footman, Long, cleared his throat and moved to hold the door open, indicating that the carriage had arrived. Marigold sent one last smile, one she hoped was confident and caring, Ruby’s way.
“I’m so glad you’ve come to work for us,” she said. “I know things will get better for you from here.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” Ruby curtsied and ventured a tremulous smile in return, but she didn’t say more.
Marigold tried to hold back the twist of frustration the maid’s reticence caused. They could force her to talk about Turpin, to bring the whole thing to a close so that the matter could be dismissed quickly, but that would have done more harm than good. And until Ruby spoke, the most Marigold could do to help Alex advance his cause was to appear on his arm at official events, smiling and well-turned-out, and to go out of her way to be sure he was satisfied at night. While there was nothing wrong with either duty, and while she took immense enjoyment in the latter, it wasn’t what she’d thought married life would be like. Her nights were dazzling, but her days felt much longer and somehow lacking.
