by Gill, Tamara
"Will you be returning home with us, Josh?" she queried, ignoring his continued defense of his friend. How could she not try to change the subject? She had no defense against her brother's words, for everything he said was true.
Albert was wonderful and she was running away.
"I have ordered the carriage to be returned to the stable. We shall leave tomorrow and not run off like highwaymen in the night." Her brother sighed, coming over to her desk, staring down at her with something akin to pity. "Armstrong did you wrong, sister, but that does not make every gentleman after him ineligible or incapable of standing at the end of an aisle to marry you and mean every word that they say. To honor and love. You are Lady Victoria Worthingham, a duke's daughter and sister to one. Do not let that bastard late husband of yours ruin your future as well as your past. You do not deserve to live alone and without love.” He reached out and chucked her under the chin. “Let Melvin love you. I know he will not disappoint you.”
Victoria's eyes burned at her brother's words, and she blinked to clear her vision. Swallowing the lump that formed in her throat. "Even if what you say is true, Albert wants children. That is no longer a desire within me. I want to travel. He has an estate in Hampshire that needs to be overseen. We are not compatible even if I wished it so.”
"You want this solitary life so strongly, Victoria? Truly, because I fear if we leave tomorrow, Lord Melvin, after all your tutoring of him in the ways of courting a lady, will marry by the end of next season. He is an honorable catch. Are you willing to stand by when you return from your travels to see him settled and happy?"
The idea of seeing Albert so made her catch her breath, but this was for the best.
"I am willing to let him go and marry another," she heard herself say. And while her mind calmed, her heart was another matter entirely. It twisted to a painful degree, and she cringed, wondering if it would ever untangle itself to beat normally again.
Something told her it never would.
* * *
Albert returned to Rosedale late that evening, having decided to miss dinner and continue writing. So he was surprised when he walked into the foyer and found his butler waiting for him.
"My lord, the duchess and Lady Victoria are to depart in the morning. Her Grace wanted you informed the moment you returned."
"Of course. Thank you," he said. He had thought they would have gone today after Victoria returned to the house, and guilt pricked that he had not returned as host to dine with his guests.
He supposed he would have to apologize to them when they broke their fast in the morning.
The house was quiet, and he requested his dinner in the library. The fire burned brightly upon entering the room, and he was relieved to see Penworth had not waited up to speak to him. No doubt he would want to know why his clandestine courting of his sister had not worked.
He flopped down on a chair, kicking off his boots and warming them before the fire. The night was chillier than normal, and his stomach rumbled when the butler entered with his tray of roast lamb, vegetables, and his cook's delicious gravy.
He dismissed his staff, sending them to bed at this late hour, and ate his meal. Going over to the decanter of whiskey and pouring himself a hefty glass, he drank it down, deciding instead of pouring another, he'd just take the bottle over to where he was settled and drink as much as he liked.
The alcohol would numb the pain coursing through his heart. He had hoped and thought that with what had happened between himself and Victoria that she would come to feel something for him. More than benign friendship. That her emotions were not so injured from her previous marriage that she may come to feel something for him.
Were women able to hide their sentiments so very well? He had been schooled that they could not, that they were emotional creatures, likely to fly into a fit of rage or an abundance of tears.
But he no longer thought that way. Victoria was the opposite of such women.
He finished his meal and the sweet vanilla biscuits that were left on a side plate before pouring himself another glass of the amber, dulling liquid.
He lay back on the settee, watching the flames in the grate, sipping his drink. Well, at least he had tried, which was more than he used to do. Victoria had given him that gift at least. He could take what she had taught him, his newfound confidence that he would work on making stronger in the coming months before the London Season next year. He would return to London and try to find a woman who sparked his desire and challenged his mind. A rare gem and one who would not be Lady Victoria Worthingham. For no doubt, she would not even be there.
She would be living her dream life on the continent, seeing and meeting all kinds of people while guarding her heart from feeling anything for anyone ever again.
He poured another glass, the room spinning as he drank it down—until he saw and felt nothing at all.
Chapter 34
Victoria was foxed. A disgraceful act and one she was not proud of. Still, nevertheless, she had imbibed too much wine at dinner, followed by proclaiming she was going to bed early, only to then sneak out to the upstairs parlor where she found another bottle of brandy that had been sweet and tempting.
She wandered through the house, no longer caring who came upon her or what her brother and mother would say if they knew she was three sheets to the wind. That Albert had failed to arrive for dinner was her fault. She had made him feel unwanted and alone in his own home. By telling him of her wishes, breaking his heart, he had not been able to face her. She had made him feel a fool, unworthy of her.
Would he ever forgive her?
Albert was sweet, charming, and made her feel things no other man ever had. To throw him aside was not an easy choice. She hated that she had hurt his feelings. In truth, he should never forgive her for her callous actions.
The memory of his touch taunted her. His kisses, his warm body against hers, touching her, making her scream. His laughter and smile. She shivered, knowing that she would miss him even with all the adventures that lay before her. Adventures she would have alone with only her servants for company. Miles of travel, and no intimate interludes to make the distance shorter. No romantic strolls or dinners on foreign shores.
Alone. Alone. Alone.
She downed more brandy from the bottle, only to find nothing but a dribble left. She held it up to the moonlight coming in through large windows in the foyer and realized she'd drank it all.
Oh dear Lord, she would pay for her trouble tomorrow, and she had a carriage ride to endure.
Victoria stumbled into the library, the only light illuminating the room coming from the fire that burned in the grate. Her heart stopped at the sight of the sole occupant seated alone—a pensive look on his profile.
Albert...
Her stomach did a little flip, a nervous titter that he may not want to see her. That his inability to attend dinner had been purposeful. That he disliked her now more than anyone on the planet.
He ought to. She was a terrible person.
She hoped that was not the case. She liked him very much, even if their wishes for the future differed. They could still be friends.
Would he allow her even to ask?
Victoria shut the door and stumbled over to the settee. Having thought to be alone, Albert jumped at her less-than-accomplished appearance before his visage shuttered like a book.
Closed and read to completion.
"Leave, Victoria. There is nothing more to say between us. And need I remind you, should we be caught alone in a closed-off room, you will be my wife, and no matter how much you want your freedom, that will not happen after the fact."
His words were a little slow compared to how he spoke normally. She slumped down beside him, ignoring his warning, and met his gaze. His eyes were glassy and unfocused. "Are you foxed as well? It seems we both have drowned our sorrows into a bottle this evening."
He shifted away from her, and she hated that he did not want to be close to her. A little voice reminded
her this was a good thing. She did not want him for herself.
Even so, the move pierced her pride.
"I do not wish for us to be enemies, Albert." Victoria realized she was still clasping the brandy bottle to her chest. She placed it down on the floor. Albert watched her with quiet calm. More than what she could say for herself. Being near him again, alone and in the middle of the night, left her hungry for his touch.
There was something off about wanting a man for what he could do to her but not want the commitment of the action. Maybe one day, women could live life so, but she could not, and being here, she was risking her future alone.
She ought to leave as he said, but she could not make herself move an inch. "Please do not hate me. I could not bear that," she whispered.
He lay his head on the back of the settee, staring up at the ceiling. His throat moved as he swallowed, and she followed the lines of his jaw, the cutting edge to his handsome face, the stubbled jaw after a day of not shaving. He looked disheveled and handsome. And he was telling her to leave.
"I do not hate you, Victoria, but you do not want me. Do not be caught in here and then be forced into a union you do not want. I could not stand it if you viewed our marriage as bad as your first."
She understood all that he said, but still, she did not move. No one was up. They were perfectly safe. And while she did not want to be his wife, she did not want to be anyone's wife. That did not mean she did not crave his touch. His sweet, intoxicating kisses left her breathless, kisses that would keep her warm at night for the many years to come when she was alone.
That word again…alone.
"We can spend some time together before I leave tomorrow, Albert."
A growl of disapproval tore from him. If he meant to dissuade her, he was mistaken. The sound merely made her crave him more. "Do not say such things. They are unfair."
The despair she heard in his voice wrenched at her heart. She did not want him to be sad and disillusioned with her plight, but she also did not want to leave him alone. But she was unjust. Her actions these past weeks all had been.
Maybe you wish to be his wife and have adventures with him and not strangers in foreign places?
She met his gaze, and time stood still. Her body shivered with need, alive with want of him. His eyes burned with a hunger that ought to scare her away, but it did not. Victoria took a calming breath, steadying herself as much as she could as Albert watched her with a longing she'd never seen before.
"Even after your denial of me, I still want you. I am selfish enough to want to have you, even if I must let you go upon daybreak," he said, a deep gravelly plea. He reached out and traced her jaw with his finger, sliding his thumb over her bottom lip. She kissed his digit before he pulled his hand away, forcing it at his side.
The words, an appeal, called at a part of her no longer willing to adhere to rules. She wanted the man before her but without the constraints of marriage. What was wrong with that?
Nothing.
Victoria closed the space between them and kissed Albert. She sighed as their lips touched, meshed into a conflagration of emotions. His raw need matched hers and she clasped his shoulders, working to sit on his lap. His manhood jutted against her core. She undulated against him—teasing them until they were both gasping for breath.
He groaned, one hand gripping her bottom, grinding her against him. The feeling was exquisite, and she wanted more.
Cool air kissed the tops of her legs, and she didn't try to stop Albert when he fumbled with her dress, moving it out of the way. His strong, large hand slid up her leg, flexing against her muscle, tickling her inner thigh. She held her breath as his fingers came achingly close to her sex.
"Touch me," she pleaded, needing him there. Not just his hands, but all of him. "I want you, Albert." And she did want him, in her own strange way. She may not wish to marry, to have children, but she did want him. Who would not? He was everything a woman such as herself hoped for in a husband, a partner in life. He was nothing like Paul.
He grazed the curls at her apex before slipping deeper, teasing her aching flesh. She sucked in a hiss of breath, working herself against his hand. The feeling, too delicious to stop.
Victoria sat back, fumbling with the front falls of his breeches, needing him closer, wanting him inside her.
"Victoria," Albert gasped. He stilled her hand working him, he was harder than she'd ever felt him before. His penis jutted and thrust against her palm even as he tried to pull them back from the brink.
"We do not need to do this. There are risks. If you're so certain that you're not marrying me, you should not do this."
Victoria considered his words. Thoughts that had been racing around in her mind these past minutes. But she could no sooner hold back the sun on a new morning than stop what they were doing. "I want to give this to you. To us both."
His eyes flared at her words, but he reached up, clasping her hair at her nape, pulling her down for a kiss. "Just remember that I offered to stop."
She grinned, lifting herself a little and placing him at her core. "I'll remember everything," she said, coming down on him in one swift movement, taking his virginity. And if Victoria were honest with herself, her heart.
Chapter 35
Albert could not catch his breath. He held still, struck a little dumb as Victoria took him into her. He could do nothing but watch her. Her eyes closed, her long lashes fanning over her flushed cheeks. Her plump lips opened on a sigh of satisfaction that went directly to his soul. He shivered, fighting the urge to dominate, to take all that he could after the gift she had bestowed on him.
For so long, he had wanted her in this way, to do everything in the sketchbook they studied. The past weeks, the positions, the pleasure they had wrought on each other had led them here. To trust and give to each other fully. How was he ever to let her walk away now? The idea of years without the woman in his arms, of warming his bed, stretched endlessly and left him panicked.
How was it that she had remained immune to his love? He could not hate Armstrong more for the damage he wrought.
"Are you well?" he managed to ask.
She clasped his jaw and kissed him. “I am more than well.” Their tongues entwined, teeth clunked, and all thoughts vanished when she started to move. With the patience he did not have himself, she rose and fell on him, torturous, slow strokes that drove him insane.
Her breathy sighs puffed against his lips through their kiss as she fell into an agonizing rhythm. Demanding more from him with every minute.
"Albert," she panted between kisses, working him with her body. It was too much. Too good, and he wanted more. He wrenched the bodice of her gown down, taking her breast into his mouth as she fucked him. Took her pleasure atop his cock.
Albert moaned, he was close, but he did not want this to end. He clasped her close, flipping her onto her back, and thrusting hard into her sweet body atop the settee.
"Take me." She bit her lip, her eyes hooded with desire, gazed up at him. "Harder," she urged him on. She clasped the end of the lounge, pushing against him as he thrust into her, working him to a fever pitch.
He could not breathe.
She felt too good. So damn tight and willing. A little wanton in his arms. He could not have asked for more the first time he gave himself up to pleasure.
"I need to taste you." She clasped his shoulders, mewling her acquiescence as he kissed his way down her chest, seizing his opportunity to lathe her wet, glistening cunny. She tasted just as he remembered, earthy and sweet. He suckled on her little pleasure bud, fucking her with his tongue. She clasped his hair, undulating against his face, gasping his name over and over.
He pushed her close to her edge, but he did not want the night to end. He never wanted them to cease. Albert sat back, watching as her vision cleared and a question entered her eyes.
"What are you doing?" she queried, a seductive smile on her lips.
"Tell me if you enjoy this, my darling." He ran one finge
r over her mons, circling the little nubbin he had taunted relentlessly with his tongue. He pushed a finger into her heat, and pleasure flooded her features. Her body swaying to gain more satisfaction from his touch.
"I love that, Albert."
He teased her in that way for several minutes, sometimes dipping his head and lathing her flesh with his tongue. She slipped an arm over her mouth to stop her cries from becoming too loud.
Albert did not care who caught them at this stage. If her family discovered them, she would be his. Selfish as that may be, he wanted her above anything else. Even perhaps her own wishes.
"Albert, I'm going to come," she mewled, working herself against his hand.
He stopped, throwing her a devilish grin when she cursed him to Hades.
"What are you doing? Please, do not stop. Do not tease me so," she begged.
He came over her, kissing her neck, licking the delicate skin beneath her ear, electing a shiver through her. "Do you want to try another position in the book? I have one in mind if you're willing."
Her eyes met his, curious. "Which one?"
In a flash, he wrenched back, flipping her over onto her front. "Lift yourself up on your knees. Hold on to the chair and arch your back."
She did as he asked, no doubt remembering the position he mentioned. "Will this be enjoyable, do you think?"
He slipped her gown up over her ass, taking his time to admire her round bottom, her aching cunny that tempted him. "Oh, I think it will be," he said, coming up over her from behind, guiding himself into her wet heat.
Albert swallowed hard. Hell, this way was good, perhaps better than he expected. Certainly, he was deeper inside of her, and yet she still clasped him tight, milked him toward a climax.
She pushed back against him and took her pleasure as he gained his. He reached around, teasing her cunny, flicking the little bead between her legs, wanting her to shatter in his arms.
