Justin held her tightly as his orgasm came on the crest of hers, and together they crumpled to the floor, tight in each other’s embrace and secure in the knowledge that each was where they needed to be.
* * * *
They awoke with a start as they heard the first stirrings of the servants in the basement kitchen.
“Quickly!” Justin pulled Cressida to her feet, seizing the discarded French letters, which he deposited into Cressida’s reticule before buttoning himself into his breeches, smoothing his wife’s tangled hair with his fingers. They ran up the back stairs to Cressida’s chamber, where Cressida collapsed, laughing, onto the bed.
“Fugitives in our own home,” said Justin, sliding in beside her at her invitation, still fully clad, and cradling her in his arms. He smiled wryly when she saw him gazing down at her.
Blinking rapidly, Cressida exhaled on a sigh, thinking of her long, emotional, eventful night. Justin was here by her side, where she needed him to be. She had his love and support and always would, now.
But there were others not as lucky as she. Others who’d helped her achieve such fulfillment but who were condemned by fate and penury to exist in a twilight world, shunned by the society that once embraced them. Madame Zirelli was just one. Cressida owed her friend and Justin’s past mistress a huge debt of gratitude, and Cressida’s sense of justice was keen. She could not shirk her responsibility. Not when the means were so within her power.
As she drifted in and out of contented slumber, she thought of the many men and women she’d rubbed shoulders with, albeit briefly, and wondered why she’d been chosen to enjoy the bounties of life. Surely she should use the power and privilege she had to help redress the balance, where she could.
At noon, when they’d both slept off the excesses of the previous night, Cressida raised herself onto one elbow and smiled down at her husband as he stirred into wakefulness. She could hear the birds singing in the garden outside and saw through a chink in the curtain that the sun was high in the sky. What did it matter what the servants thought? It was surely better they knew their master and mistress to be in love than to have cause to whisper suspicions of anything else that certainly was not true.
“Cressy.” He reached up and stroked her cheek with his forefinger. Her heart hitched as she saw the softening of his expression and thrilled to his deeply sincere admission, “I must be the luckiest man alive.”
She thought she might cry. “A loving marriage is the greatest gift a woman can hope for in this life, Justin.” She tried to think of any other woman who was as happy as she, but could not. “I have you, and I realize how lucky I am in a world where so many women suffer such great unhappiness through husbands that neither love, want, nor appreciate them.”
“I’ve always wanted you, Cressy.” Justin drew her down beside him and began to stroke her hair. “From the moment I saw you, it was love at first sight. You were so beautiful, but it was more than that. I saw such sweetness in your expression. Such kindness. I wanted to make you mine and to look after you…so that you’d be safe and protected from what can be a harsh world. I had no idea that such careful protection would lead to such happiness and then…ultimately to the opposite.” His expression was so sincere, and his silent pleading for forgiveness so poignant she had to fight to hold back the sentimental tears.
“You are the best of husbands. You mustn’t blame yourself for what I could not and did not know. But now I have Madame Zirelli to thank for making it clear to me.”
He was silent, as it was clear she wanted to elaborate, and she went on, “Madame Zirelli explained so much that I needed to know, but her own sad story is a reminder that we women are completely at the mercy of forces beyond our control. Justin, what do you know of Mr. Richard Pendleton?”
“Richard Pendleton?” He frowned, as if he had no idea where such a question had sprung from, while he continued to stroke her face. “A diligent, if retiring, young man. May I ask why you wish to know?”
“Didn’t you once say you thought he was marked out for great things? He’s very clever, isn’t he?”
Justin rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling, looking as if he had not the slightest idea where Cressida’s questioning was leading, though he continued his gentle stroking as Cressida went on, “I believe you have influence in the direction of his career? If he’s so clever, why is he working in some—no doubt dark and musty—corner, living on a hundred a year, or something similar? Surely you’ve guessed why I’m asking you? It’s because Mr. Pendleton is the man to whom Madeleine Hardwicke has lost her heart.”
A look of dawning realization crossed his face, but his answer was disappointing. “Connections count for more than talent, though of course talent will generally be recognized, particularly if a young man is forceful and persistent enough.”
Cressida rolled over onto her stomach and raised herself onto one elbow. Idly, she stroked Justin’s chest. It was a strong, hard chest with well-defined muscles dusted with fine, light hair, and in the aftermath of their loving, her body pulsed with the thrill of knowing this man to be hers. Snuggling up to him, she added thoughtfully, “Which clearly means Mr. Pendleton is not. Justin, Miss Madeleine Hardwicke is, as you know, Madame Zirelli’s daughter, and she is to be married to Lord Slitherton next week.”
“A fine catch for a girl with such a meager dowry.” Justin’s tone was cautious. He spoke only the truth.
“Her mother…that is, the woman who took on the role of mother…is dying and needs the comfort of seeing her daughter settled, for it is true that Miss Hardwicke cannot marry for love if there is no money to support them. But, Justin, Miss Hardwicke loves Mr. Pendleton. I saw them together last year when she was presented and so was shocked when Catherine told me she was to marry a man nearly three times her age”—she felt indignation rise—“because he can support her and Mr. Pendleton can’t. Don’t you see, Justin? You have the power to change that. You can pull strings, see that Mr. Pendleton receives the recognition he deserves and consequently is assured of an expectation that will enable him to offer for Miss Hardwicke.”
The patience in Justin’s smile as he fiddled with a lock of Cressida’s hair did not have the ameliorating effect for which he obviously strove when he objected, “My dear, Miss Hardwicke is to marry in three days’ time. For all your good intentions, three days is not nearly long enough to affect the necessary steps to achieve your undoubtedly well-intentioned plan. Besides which, the girl can’t possibly renege at this late stage. Think of the scandal.”
Cressida understood her husband’s sentiment. She herself had at first not considered that Miss Hardwicke had an option when it was her family’s decision to see her marriage to Lord Slitherton, with all its obvious benefits, go ahead. Now she understood the importance of making a stand for the sake of happiness.
The tone of her objection, however, was mild. “Would you condemn this poor young woman to a life of disappointment when a judicious word in someone’s ear could see her as happy as…well, us?”
Justin sent her a look she’d never seen before—lust and calculation laced with a good dose of humor. With deliberate movements, he raised himself, carefully straddled her and then, when he’d caged Cressida with his body and she could feel his hot, heavy erection pushing into her stomach, he lowered his head and whispered hotly into her neck, “After last night, Cressy, you might confidently say that I’d be willing to put myself out a great deal to advance Miss Hardwicke’s happiness, and the collective happiness of your entire sex.”
Chapter Eleven
Some days later, after a great deal of legwork—both in the bedroom and in the course of the duties that Justin had undertaken on Cressida’s behalf—Cressida stretched luxuriously and regretfully as she heard the chime of the late hour, and sighed. “I wish we could stay in bed all day, but we have a wedding to attend.”
“What time does Mary bring you your breakfast chocolate?” Justin sounded groggy, as well he might, having expended s
uch efforts lately on Cressida’s pleasure.
Without opening his eyes, he took her left nipple into his mouth while he gently stroked her belly and hips.
Cressida drew in her breath at the familiar surge of sensation to her groin, closing her eyes and twisting in his arms in order to offer Justin her other breast. With difficulty, she managed to croak, “My very discreet lady’s maid will know by the dancing slippers I placed outside my bedchamber door that this is one morning she is not to bring me my customary hot chocolate.”
Justin regarded her with feigned shock through one opened eye. “I should be surprised at nothing concocted by my wife, ever again,” he murmured. “Now, my dear, did you not say we had a wedding to attend today?” His look was inquiring as he drew his finger through the slick wetness between her legs. “Should we perhaps concentrate on the happiness of the very fortunate Miss Hardwicke, rather than our own?”
How quickly he could whip her into a state of desperate desire. Cressida, though, was equally conscious of his erection jabbing into her thigh as he continued his languorous pleasuring of her.
“I think we should certainly make a plan to be out of bed in…” She stopped on a pause, which became a squeak. “Ten minutes, Justin, if Mary is to make anything passable out of my hair, which rather resembles a bird’s nest after the activities of last night.”
“I envy the lucky bird who makes it its home, then,” Justin said, playfully. “In either of your little nests,” he added, tickling her between the legs.
Cressida squealed as Justin threw himself on top of her and captured her mouth with his.
Lord, but her husband knew how to kiss. She knew now the heavy roiling sensation she felt in her womb was not attributable to the possibility of a living creature growing inside her, but to the primal need to be joined as one with this man.
As his tongue thrust inside her mouth, the ache at the juncture of her legs became unbearable, but he seemed insensible to her wriggling, for he refrained from entering her. Did he not know what she wanted?
Finally, he dragged his mouth away long enough to rasp, “Cressy, darling, the hour is growing advanced. We should be mindful of our responsibilities, both to Miss Hardwicke and to ourselves. You know I love you too much to burden you with another little angel so soon.”
“We took precautions twice last night,” she reminded him, archly, “and of course, we’ll do so again. Justin?”
He shook his head, sadly, as he rolled off her. “Our precautions are working overtime, and there are none that can be used right now, if you understand my meaning.”
“Please, Justin,” she begged hoarsely, “I want to feel you inside me. I want to make up for all that I’ve missed these long months.”
“We’ll spend a lifetime making up for that,” he murmured, kissing her lingeringly on the mouth. “We’ll enjoy every moment we have together, because our splendid union has been blessed in a way few others are, my darling.”
She caressed his smooth cheek with her fingertip, which she then laid gently upon his lip. “We conquered what kept us apart by bringing it into the open.”
“And we learned it was nothing more than fear. So insubstantial—”
“When words and this can heal all the hurt.” Cressida finished her sentence with energy before she shimmied down beneath the bedcovers, clearly catching him by surprise, judging by his response as she took him into her mouth.
“You do like it, don’t you?” she demanded, coming up for breath.
She was more than reassured by his groan, though before too long, he was once more on top of her, grinding out through clenched teeth, “You don’t know what you do to me, Cressy, my darling. Right now I could refuse you nothing.”
Supporting his weight on his forearms, he raised himself above her and looked down, his expression grave and deeply reverential, and in the brief silence, she felt her brain and body swirl with love and longing before craving for the physical held sway, and she arched her pelvis up to meet his.
“Then come to me, Justin,” she whispered, closing her eyes, for now she had the comfort of knowing there were a variety of ways to reduce the risks of pregnancy, and that was good enough for her. “I want to feel you inside me. I want to revel in you as you revel in me. I’m not afraid like I was before. I know so much more and you can withdraw. Oh—”
For without further preliminaries, he had taken her at her word, and in an instant her body was filled with him as her world was once again dominated by the man who’d stolen her heart so many years before.
It was a more gentle possession than the passionate couplings of the previous nights. Gentle, thorough, intense and deeply erotic as he thrust into her, his movements in tandem with his tongue, leaving her gasping, exulting in the exhaustion that came from the energy expended in loving him.
Every nerve ending quivered at the contact as she thrilled at the now familiar but so deeply missed feeling that began at her toes and spread its all-encompassing wave of sensation up throughout her body before engulfing her in ecstasy. Only her husband had this power over her, and she gladly offered him everything she had to give.
Her climax was deep and intense, racking her with shudders as he withdrew upon a groan to spill his seed beside her.
No, there would be no little angels joining their siblings in the nursery for a while, though, should it happen by chance, Cressida felt strong enough to embrace a timely addition. The control and responsibility Justin shared with her and the reinforcement of his love were her reward for the pain that had gone before.
* * * *
Justin was waiting at the foot of the stairs when Cressida emerged wearing a fashionable gown of primrose lustring beneath a white fur-edged pelisse.
“Good morning, king of husbands,” she said softly.
“Good morning, queen of wives,” he murmured, holding out his hand and indicating the open door with a flourish. “Shall we go? I believe the time has come to show our support of the love match—a great institution, for all that I was skeptical of the merits of succeeding with your little scheme when I anticipated the damage to the reputations involved occasioned by the advanced timing. I am surprised Lord Slitherton was so easily appeased when it is well known Mrs. Hardwicke could not have offered anything in the way of financial or meritorious recompense.”
Cressida looked sly as they descended the steps to their waiting carriage. “Then you clearly are unaware of the efforts I expended with a certain co-conspirator behind the scenes to ensure that matters of the heart would prevail.” She put her hand on Justin’s sleeve to explain. “There’s something about happiness that makes one want to see it enjoyed by the whole world, when one’s been blessed by it, oneself.”
“A co-conspirator?” He looked intrigued. “Catherine?”
Cressida laughed as the footman handed her up, and Justin joined her inside the carriage. “Now you’re being ridiculous. However, I am rather buoyed up by my success with regard to Miss Hardwick and Mr. Pendleton.” She chewed her lip thoughtfully. “Don’t put it past my abilities that I might yet see Catherine bask in the glow of mutual love and adoration. I’ll have her eating out of my hand, one day.”
“Just as you’ve had me eating out of yours since the day I set eyes on you.” He leaned across and chucked her under the chin as the coachman cracked the whip and they lurched forward.
Cressida returned his smile, her heart filling with happiness as she watched the playful glint in his eye be replaced by admiration. “Isn’t there a wealth of surprises hiding behind the innocent visage you present to the world, Cressy? By God, I’m a lucky man, and you know I could refuse you nothing.”
His voice had lowered to a suggestive growl by the end of this statement, and Cressida, still glowing, seized the unexpected opportunity. “If you truly mean that, my darling,” she said earnestly, “there are a few matters I would urge you to take up.”
Justin looked so concerned at this that Cressida giggled. “Oh, nothing to do with your
quite extraordinary prowess in the bedroom,” she replied throatily, feeling ridiculously naughty for voicing such things aloud, even though they were cocooned in a moving carriage with no possibility of being overheard. On a more serious note, she went on, “It’s about the girls I met at Mrs. Plumb’s—”
“Please don’t talk about the experiences you were subjected to on account of my dereliction of duty—”
It was Cressida’s turn to cut him off. “You don’t understand, Justin. It was the most liberating experience of my life. Well, almost,” she amended with a knowing smile. “The outcome of what occurred as a result of our association with Madame Zirelli was the most liberating experience of my life, but meeting the young women who worked there and learning of the sad and terrible events which had led them to Madame Plumb’s is something I can never forget. I feel that something must be done about it.”
Justin sighed and took her hand. “You wish for the impossible, Cressida dearest. I, too, share your outrage on their behalf. Truly I do. But it will take a hundred years to change attitudes toward these women who have, through no fault of their own, become society’s detritus.”
“Through no fault of their own, that’s correct, Justin.” She pushed her shoulders back and removed her hand, prepared to do battle, so strongly did she feel. “However, their falls from grace are generally as a result of a man who can behave with impunity!”
“Not all men believe they have that right, Cressy,” Justin soothed.
“Of course not, Justin, and aren’t you living proof?” She touched his cheek and smiled. “However, you are in a position to help some of these women. I met four of them at Mrs. Plumb’s. One was a parson’s daughter. Yes, can you believe it! A parson’s daughter, just as I am. She became separated from her godmother during her first visit to capital and was tricked by an evil old woman who…used her for her own ends. Now this poor parson’s daughter can only hope her parents believe her dead as her fate would appear—in their eyes —worse than death. She can never go back for the shame, she believes, will kill them.” She drew in a shuddering breath. “Tell me, Justin, is that right? Is it the fault of this country girl who knew nothing of London’s wicked ways and was tricked when she was barely out of the schoolroom? Is it right she can never go home because of the scandal it would occasion her parents?”
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