by Julia Tagan
“Oh no. You see, the dressmaker is adding a wide matching sash around the waist.” She demonstrated with her hands.
“But won’t doing so ruin the line?” She eyed her companion, seeking reassurance.
“Oh no. When I was in France, Josephine wore sashes at every ball we attended. And before long all of the ladies did so as well.”
“You mean Josephine Bonaparte, Napoleon’s wife?” stammered Mrs. Wetmore.
Mrs. Delcour laughed. “Of course. Who else?”
She gave Benjamin a triumphant glance and left to change out of her dress. Benjamin waited as the dressmaker brought out Mrs. Wetmore’s dress, and listened as she demanded he make a wide sash to go with it, and have it ready by tomorrow morning.
Benjamin assumed Mrs. Delcour was waiting in the back for the ladies to leave, but when she didn’t emerge from the dressing room after they’d scuttled out the door, he became worried. He swore under his breath. He imagined her weeping on the floor at the snub she’d received. Benjamin called out for her, but there was no answer. The dressmaker went into the back of the store, where the dressing rooms were located, and returned with his hands turned upward.
“She’s gone, Mr. Thomas,” he said, looking at him quizzically. “Mrs. Delcour appears to have left out the back door.”
* * * *
Catherine was breathless as she stepped across the marble lobby floor and asked the clerk the way to Percy Bonneville’s office. She hadn’t planned on running away from the tailor’s shop, but the combination of Mrs. Wetmore’s taunts and the sight of the back door, which had been propped open, were too much. Catherine was humiliated, and she wanted to speak with Percy right away. She couldn’t afford to wait a moment longer.
At the door to Percy’s office, she knocked.
“Come in.”
Percy was leaning against a bookshelf behind his desk, leafing through a thick book. He had fine, even features and thin blond hair and stood with a studied ease. At the sight of her, he broke into a wide grin.
It was the kind of reception she hoped she would receive. “My dear Mr. Bonneville.”
Percy came from around the back of the desk and took her hand. “You look lovely, Mrs. Delcour.” He guided her into one of the chairs in front of the desk and took the other one for himself. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere, and was told you’d been whisked off to the country house. Was the warm weather too much for you? I hoped you’d write.”
“I’m so sorry, there hasn’t been time.”
“Something’s wrong, I can tell. You’re upset.” He patted her arm. “Don’t worry, no one will interrupt us. Now tell me what’s been going on. I’ve missed you.”
“I missed you too. You know you’re one of the few friends I have in this town.”
“And you are such a delight. The other denizens of New York don’t know what they’re missing.” He laughed. “It drives my family crazy, but I am my own man. I don’t care what other people say.”
She gave him a weak smile. “That’s very kind of you. I’m afraid I have rather bad news. Mr. Delcour is under the impression you and I have been having an affair.”
“That’s ridiculous. We’re simply good friends.”
“Of course. But I should never have agreed to meet you without Theodosia or Mr. Delcour present. I realize that now. In France, it wouldn’t have mattered, but here I appear to have made yet another serious misstep.”
Percy grew serious. “What’s he done?”
“It’s been terrible. He has me under watch all hours of the day. I was barely able to escape to see you.”
“There, now.” He touched her knee, then withdrew his hand. “I’m sure with time he’ll calm down. If you like, I’ll speak with him and explain our friendship is entirely innocent.”
“How kind of you. But I’m afraid the situation is even more grim. He is planning to ship me off to the West Indies when he gets back from his business trip. He’s going to get rid of me and replace me with someone more acceptable.”
Percy furrowed his brows. “He’s saying he’ll send you away?”
“Yes. And I have no doubt he has every intention of doing so.”
“But he can’t. You’re his wife.” He laughed. “If shipping off one’s wife were legal, most of the wives of New York would be down in the West Indies by now.”
“I’m not his wife.”
“What?”
“I haven’t told another soul what I’m about to tell you. I’m doing so because you’re an attorney, and might be able to help.”
His eyes widened. “I assure you, whatever you say will be held in strictest confidence.”
“We were married at sea on the way to France,” she said. “The captain did the ceremony. I thought it was valid. But a few days ago my husband informed me that ceremonies performed on a merchant vessel aren’t legal. I didn’t know.”
“Sly devil. That way he had a way out, if the marriage displeased him.”
Relief surged through her. Percy understood, and perhaps he’d be able to help. “As you can imagine, I have no money of my own. Not a cent. So I’m completely at his mercy.”
He sat back and rubbed his hands along the arms of his chair. “And you’ve come to me.”
“Yes, I’ve come to you. I was hoping, with your legal knowledge, you might help me find a way out of this mess.”
“What was the nationality of the captain of the ship?”
She thought back. “French. He said he was from Calais.”
“That’s not good. If he’s French, we can’t bring him here to testify you were misled.”
“So there’s nothing to be done?”
He leaned forward, his face somber. “You need someone to take care of you right now.”
His sympathy was unnerving and caught her off guard. She took a handkerchief out of her reticule and dabbed at her eyes. She shouldn’t break down in front of him, but she was so lost.
“Please don’t cry.” He placed his hands on her knees. “I can’t stand to see you so upset. Even if I can’t help you legally, perhaps there’s another way.”
She waited for him to continue.
“You know I would marry you in an instant if I could,” he said. “I’ve had strong feelings for you since the day we met.”
“What on earth are you talking about? You’re already engaged to be married. And I have no desire to marry anyone else, I assure you. I’ve already tried it once. Or thought I had.” She gave an awkward laugh.
“Of course, of course,” he said.
“In which case that is the strangest non-proposal I’ve ever heard.” She stood. “What are you getting at?”
Percy rose and put his hands on her waist. “If you can wait for me.”
“Wait for you to do what?”
“Wait for me to get married. Once I do so, I’ll have more than enough money. I’ll be able to arrange everything you need–gowns, a home, a horse and driver. You’ll be well taken care of, I assure you.”
Catherine tried to step back, but he gripped her waist more tightly.
“And what would you get in return?” she asked.
He pulled her toward him and kissed her, hard. She pushed him away and touched her mouth with her gloved hand.
“So you would have me be your whore?”
He frowned. “Don’t say that. Many men here in New York have a similar arrangement. It’s quite common. You and I get along so well. You’re a beautiful creature. I’d marry you if I could, but I’d be cut off. It would ruin me.”
“So instead you’ll ruin my reputation.”
“I think that’s already happened.”
She flinched at his harsh words and slapped him across the face. The thought of touching or being touched by him made her shudder. This man was no better than Morris. He only wanted her as a possession, a toy.
Percy rubbed his cheek. “I would recommend against making a hasty decision. I’d help you any other way if I could, but Mr. Delcour is a powerful man. It wouldn’t
do.”
“I refuse to rely on another man again. I’ve already made that mistake once already.”
“You may say so now, but perhaps later you’ll change your mind.”
“You underestimate me.”
Catherine fled, not caring she was attracting attention as she ran out of the office. Once outside, she turned blindly onto Maiden Lane.
A light rain was falling. Catherine grasped at her skirts and picked up the pace. She must figure out what to do next. Perhaps it would have been better if she’d never left Bridgeport, and instead worked as a maid for the rest of her life, never knowing what she’d missed. All of the grand balls, the sumptuous dinners, the beautiful clothes—it all meant nothing if she was treated as if she belonged in the gutter.
She had nowhere to go, and no family, other than her dear sister, Sophie, who had probably forgotten her by now. When Morris had first dazzled Catherine, she’d believed a silk gown or an ostrich plume fan was all it took to be happy. And she’d been wrong.
“Mrs. Delcour!”
Catherine turned around. She didn’t recognize any of the faces in the crowd. Only when she heard her name called a second time did she realize the voice came from her carriage, standing a few paces behind her in the street. Mr. Thomas jumped down, strode over and, without ceremony, lifted her up and placed her inside.
7
The moment the carriage moved forward, Catherine leaped on Benjamin with a frenzy of punches. Her embarrassment at being swept off the street turned to anger. “How dare you manhandle me in that way. You will never, ever touch me like that again.”
The carriage swayed and she fell hard on top of him. She didn’t care she was almost straddling the man, and let out her fury with her fists. She was livid with Morris and Percy for making a fool of her, and with herself for thinking either man would treat her with dignity. And now here was yet another male trying to subdue and control her. A blinding rage surged through her, one she’d never let loose before, and her blows rained down on Benjamin. At first he blocked them but she was too quick and squirmed out of his grasp. Finally, as she tired, he grabbed her and pinned her arms to her sides. She panted from a mixture of frustration and exhaustion.
She was still straddling him in the most unladylike fashion, her hair had come undone and she was breathing hard. But Catherine didn’t care anymore about being ladylike. If she was no better than a scullery maid, she might as well act like one and stop putting on these silly airs.
“Are you finished?” He lifted her off his lap and placed her on the seat beside him. The sound of the rain on the roof grew louder.
“How did you know where to find me?”
“I had a feeling I’d find you wherever Percy Bonneville was.”
“Percy.” She averted her eyes. “Yes.”
“And how did your tete-a-tete go?” Benjamin didn’t seem to be teasing her. He seemed interested.
“Not well, I’m afraid.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Yes, it appears I am on my own.”
“I’m sorry.”
Catherine had held her head high this past year, through the snubs and Morris’s tirades and now Percy’s proposition. The sympathetic tone of Benjamin’s voice broke her spirit completely. No one had cared for her, and no one would care what happened to her. This unexpected act of kindness, particularly when she’d just been attempting to beat him senseless, overwhelmed her and she wept.
Benjamin held out his handkerchief.
“Please, put down the curtains,” she said through her tears. “I can’t bear for anyone to see me like this.”
He closed the curtain next to him, and then reached across and drew the other one. His face was inches away and she noticed his eyes were a greenish brown, surrounded by thick lashes. Her breathing quickened, and she sensed his breath was short as well. Neither moved for a second, and a thrill went through her body. She pressed her mouth to his.
His lips tasted salty and warm, and she opened her mouth, welcoming his tongue. He grabbed her and lifted her back onto his lap. Catherine ran her fingers roughly through his hair. She had never wanted a man so badly.
“We should stop this right now,” he whispered.
The rain beat down even harder, blocking out any of the sounds of the street. Catherine pulled the top of her dress down, exposing one breast to the air.
Benjamin dropped his head back. “No.”
She grabbed a handful of his hair and made him look at her. He drew his fingertip around her nipple, making her gasp with longing, before taking the nub between his finger and thumb. She arched her back so he could reach her breast with his mouth. It was a kind of exquisite pain, as he teased her and sucked the nipple until it became hard and tight. He pulled back and covered her entire breast with his hand.
“You’re beautiful.”
Benjamin’s quiet strength made her want to possess him, and be possessed by him. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking, and it drove her crazy and intrigued her. She wanted to know him, and be touched by him. She’d never felt this with Morris. And certainly never with Percy, who had lunged at her with a surprising lack of grace.
But this was a sweet anticipation. Catherine moved against his body. She hated having so many layers of skirts between them, and wished dearly she could lie down and feel nothing but his skin against her own.
Benjamin’s hardness beneath his breeches pressed against her. She touched it with her hand and he groaned in response. She pushed her pelvis into his. His body was strong and muscular and she grabbed his shoulders. The pleasure was building up. He placed his hands on her hips and wet his lips.
The carriage came to a stop. She scrambled off Benjamin and landed with a thud on the seat beside him, straightening her dress as the footman opened the door of the carriage.
“This way, my lady,” said the footman, holding out his hand.
Catherine glanced over at Benjamin. “We’re here.”
In response, he leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. Catherine desperately wanted to climb on top of him again. Instead, she allowed herself to be led out of the carriage and up the townhouse stairs, her legs quaking with desire.
* * * *
Benjamin sat for a moment in the carriage, recovering. Catherine was not only beautiful, but she was also impulsive. There was something about her eyes and manner that was different from any other woman he’d met. She didn’t sit back and let the world pass by and admire her. Instead, she took an active role in her own life, whatever mess she made of it. He wondered how she’d ever ended up with a man like Delcour. And where she came from.
He’d been suppressing his attraction to her since the evening they’d first met, and it had built up in a dangerous way. When Catherine had set upon him with anger in the carriage, he hadn’t been able to help his reaction to her proximity and her passion, and the fact he couldn’t control himself shocked him to the core.
Benjamin walked in the front door. The day’s mail lay in a heap on the rug, and Catherine and Mrs. Daggett were at each other’s throats. Catherine held a letter in her hand.
“Why would you hide this from me?” Her hand was shaking.
“I was only acting on Mr. Delcour’s orders,” said Mrs. Daggett. “He told me to pass any of your correspondence on to him.”
“But how could you?” Catherine asked. “Were there more?” She advanced toward Mrs. Daggett, and Benjamin stepped in front of her.
“I’m sure Mrs. Daggett meant no harm. As she said, she was only following orders.”
Catherine stared at him as if he had spoken in tongues. “You have no idea.” She turned and ran up the stairs to her room.
Benjamin helped Mrs. Daggett pick up the rest of the mail. “I assume it was from Percy Bonneville?” he asked.
Mrs. Daggett didn’t answer for a moment. “Not exactly.”
She left before he could inquire further. Of course, it wouldn’t surprise him if Catherine had more than one para
mour. Delcour hinted at it during their first meeting. Benjamin should’ve taken the letter from Catherine there and then, but he was still reeling from the carriage ride, and with Mrs. Daggett watching, he hadn’t been able to make any kind of demand of Catherine. He had to remember he was dealing with a woman who was not to be trusted. Even though Benjamin was wildly attracted to Catherine, it was imperative he put a stop to his desires.
* * * *
That evening, Mrs. Daggett had the night off, and she’d set some cheese on the sideboard for Benjamin and Catherine, along with a platter of cold meat in a jellied sauce. Benjamin filled his plate and sat at the dining room table, and watched as Catherine did the same. She seemed preoccupied and edgy, and poured a large glass of wine. He took a bite of the meat and almost gagged.
“For God’s sake.” He spit the gristle into his napkin. “Is that woman trying to poison us?”
Catherine pushed her own plate aside. “Wait until she serves you her omelet one morning. I’m not sure what’s in it, but the smell alone is frightful.”
Benjamin rose and threw his napkin on the table. “Follow me.”
He picked up their glasses of wine and marched down to the kitchen, Catherine trailing behind him. A couple of maids were scouring pots in the washbasin, and he sent them off to clear the dining room. The kitchen was small but well equipped, with a large Dutch oven in the fireplace and a half-dozen iron pots hanging nearby. Benjamin placed their wine glasses on a small table near the window.
He dug through the icebox and pulled out some roast beef, then selected parsnips and beans from the pantry. He found a large knife and began chopping the parsnips. Catherine joined him, efficiently snapped off the ends of the beans. He handed her a slab of butter and sliced the roast beef while she sautéed the vegetables, neither of them speaking. It occurred to him that she seemed more at home in the kitchen than in any other part of the house.
Working side by side made it easier for him to address the subject that hung uneasily in the air between them. While he spoke, he focused his attention on the blade of the knife as it slid through the meat. “I’m sorry for my earlier conduct. My behavior was untoward.”
