“I am told that you dida great service to Miss Pennifold.” Hawkeswell’s casual observation came out of nowhere. It had absolutely nothing to do with the conversations being enjoyed in Castleford’s library.
It effectively ended all the others, however. Two other pairs of eyes joined Hawkeswell’s in settling on Jonathan.
Old friends could be a damned nuisance sometimes. “Hardly a great service. I extended a small help. That is all.”
“To hear my wife tell it, you probably saved her from dying of fever.”
Lights of curiosity danced in one glassy pair of eyes. “You saved a woman? You do your blood proud. Her name is familiar to me too. Do I know her?” Castleford’s brow furrowed while he pondered the matter.
Castleford had wandered by the library and seen the rest of them by accident. It being a Friday, Summerhays and Hawkeswell had called on the duke’s guest, not the duke, but the duke had inserted himself anyway, despite being thoroughly foxed and half-undressed.
To make a complicated social situation worse, Jonathan was not really the duke’s guest anymore. He had come to inform Castleford of that, and to thank him for his generosity. Through the kind of coincidence cooked up by hell, however, Summerhays’s and Hawkeswell’s cards had arrived before he could do so.
Which had brought all four of them into this library, on an afternoon when Jonathan needed to be doing something else entirely.
“I only ensured that she returned to the house near Cumberworth safely. The ladies’ gossip has made it more than it was.”
“Pennifold. Pennifold ...” Castleford muttered, thinking hard.
“They say that delivery was in the earliest hours of the morning. I do not envy your sleeping in that inn in Cumberworth, even if only for a few hours,” Hawkeswell said. “Summerhays and I were stuck there one night and it was too rustic for me. The bedbugs like it, though.”
Summerhays smiled slyly. “As I hear it, he did not sleep in an inn.”
“No? Is it true? Were you allowed into the cloistered area of the convent?”
That caught Castleford’s attention. “Convent? Have you discovered a good country brothel and not told me, Albrighton?”
Silence fell. Everyone looked at him. Castleford smiled back at them, oblivious.
Hawkeswell’s lids lowered heavily over his blue eyes. “He is speaking of The Rarest Blooms, Castleford. The house where my wife lived for two years, and Summerhays’s wife for a spell as well.”
“Ah, you were using the word metaphorically, but not metaphorically in that way. My apologies, although my misunderstanding was not without cause. You should be more careful.”
Summerhays glanced at how Hawkeswell still glared. “Castleford, shouldn’t you be in your chambers? Whoever is there must be getting impatient for your attention.”
“No one is there. She who was there left hours ago.”
“Then should you not be resting up for tonight’s exertions?”
“You may have to rest before such things, Summerhays. I am always in fine form.” Castleford squinted at nothing while his mind drifted. “Haven’t I been to this place, The Rarest Blooms? I seem to remember, vaguely . . .” His eyes opened. “Now I remember. They allowed you to sleep there, Albrighton? Hell, I was not even allowed in the door.”
“That is because he aided and protected one of their members, and you would only seduce and abandon them all if given the chance,” Hawkeswell drawled. “And after you did, two of the men sitting here now would pay dearly with their domestic bliss.”
“Love has made you almost unbearable, Hawkeswell. What is more, we do not know for a fact that Albrighton did not seduce at least one of them while he was there. I don’t know why you assume I would be a scoundrel while he would be a saint.”
“Don’t you, indeed?”
Jonathan just looked at Castleford. Castleford looked right back, innocently.
“I am not saying that you did seduce any of them, of course,” Castleford explained. “I merely point out that they”—he gestured to the other two—“do not know for a fact that you did not.”
“Of course he did not,” Hawkeswell said. “He would not put two friends’ heads on their wives’ chopping blocks by misusing one of their dearest friends. Furthermore, Mrs. Joyes, the owner of that house, has a pistol that she is itching to use in just such a circumstance. He was good enough to help Miss Pennifold when a little quest of hers went awry, and we would have heard about it in the worst way if he had behaved badly.”
“Pennifold. There it is again. Why is that name nudging me so?” Castleford frowned.
Summerhays pointedly turned the conversation to an upcoming lecture at the Royal Society, but Jonathan suspected that Summerhays had noticed that the only man who could know the truth had not actually denied a seduction.
The two guests took their leave shortly thereafter. Summerhays offered to get Jonathan into that lecture, and Hawkeswell said an invitation to dinner would be forthcoming from his wife. After they departed, Jonathan sat down to take his own leave of the remaining person in the library.
He expressed his appreciation for the duke’s hospitality, and explained that he now had chambers to which he would move.
Rather suddenly Castleford did not appear very drunk at all. Sly intelligence showed in the gaze he settled on Jonathan.
“I just remembered where I had heard that name. Have you gotten yourself entangled with that Northrope woman’s daughter?”
“I have come to know her, obviously.”
“I think perhaps you know her very well, if you are playing white knight to her damsel in distress. I think she is the one who threw you over. If that left you without a bed—” He looked to the door. “Our good friends are going to be angry when they find out. Hawkeswell will thrash you soundly if his wife is the least distressed by this.”
“Then perhaps you should not share your unfounded and unproven suspicions with him.”
“I will try, but he goads me, and it would be a pleasure to rub his nose in how wrong he is.” He stood. “At least I now know why you have been so tediously virtuous. Enjoy whatever it is while you can, since it cannot last long.”
“That is not necessarily true.”
“With your ambitions, it is most definitely true. I am sure she knows it, and you will be spared a scene. Her mother would have taught her that, along with the rest.” He yawned, stretched, and strolled to the door, presumably to rest at last for the upcoming night’s games.
He stopped before leaving. “Speaking of your ambitions, Thornridge will be coming up to town soon. The Tory leadership requires his attendance at some meetings next week. He will not be able to avoid me once he is here, so gird your loins for whatever battle you think to fight.”
Chapter Twenty-two
“The morning grows old. I mustgetup,” Celia said between giggles.
Jonathan ignored her and continued the tickling kisses along the curve of her side.
“Why must you rise? Are wagons of plants coming today?” he asked finally, not missing a spot from the effort.
“Not until Tuesday.”
“Then you can stay as long as you like.”
“It is too decadent, Jonathan. Bella and Marian have been up for hours already.”
“They will both understand, especially when they hear you moaning soon.”
They probably would understand. There no longer was any pretense about what was going on in this house. Marian even made bawdy jokes about it. That was one of several ways in which things had changed with Jonathan’s return.
“It will have to wait for tonight.” She threw back the covers. “I have matters to attend to today.”
“What matters?” The kisses had reached the side of her breast. His hand on her hip kept her in place.
“I do not only store plants. I also need to find sellers for the summer flowers we will have. I would rather not stand in a market and hawk them myself, so I need to find a man who will take them wholesale
.” His hand moved off her hip, down to where he could do wicked things to her. She took the opportunity to slip away.
He caught her ankle before she made a total escape. She looked back at him while she balanced on one foot.
“Come back,” he cajoled, with a devastating smile. “You know you want to.”
Indeed she did, but they had hardly left this bed in the three days since returning from Cumberworth, and there were things she needed to do.
“Tonight, I promise.”
“You promise what?”
She laughed, and tried to squirm her ankle free. “Whatever you want. Now, allow me to wash and dress.”
He released her. She went to the door and opened it. Two buckets of water waited on the other side. Now, that was new. She could hardly blame Marian. Why carry Jonathan’s up to the attic when he woke right here? Still, those two buckets symbolized things that went beyond practical convenience.
She dipped her fingers, then carried both to the washstand. “They are warm. You should use it now, if you are wise.”
He swung to sit on the bed’s edge. “That is convenient.”
“Isn’t it? You can shave when you go abovestairs.”
“You go first. Cool water does not bother me.” He stood and came over. He poked at her cloths and smelled her soap.
She poured water into the basin. “I will tell Marian not to do this in the future. I do not know what she was thinking. It is silly for you to have to wait.”
“I do not mind. I think it will be charming to see you wash.” He stepped behind her and took the soap. “I can even help.”
“I don’t think—” But he was already wetting the cloth, his arms circling around to the basin. With languid strokes he wet down her arms, then squeezed the cloth so a drizzle sprayed on her shoulders and chest and formed rivulets down her curves.
He reached for the soap. “This is fun. I have never washed a woman before.”
“You are getting the floor all wet.”
“I will be more careful.” His voice and breath tickled her ear as he reached around to soap his hands. “Whatever I want tonight?” His slippery caresses ran up and down her arms.
“That is what I said.” Her voice faltered a bit, due to the distraction this washing was creating. Shoulders now, and back and bottom and—She startled, and looked over her shoulder at him. “You are being most thorough.”
“I would not want to serve you poorly.” He stroked again. A wonderful tremble traveled to every part of her. Deliberately now, he touched to arouse her, and standing made the sensations incredibly intense. He stepped closer then, and pressed his erection between her thighs and up against her heat.
She had to lean against him for support. Her body pulsed savagely around the pressure and she could barely breathe. He soaped his hands again, and slowly caressed her torso, and finally her breasts.
His chin rested against her temple while his hands moved in luxurious circles on her breasts. She bit her lip so she would not moan, but it was in her, so loud that the whole street would hear if it escaped.
“Whatever I want. Let me think.” He tortured and teased while she squirmed against his hardness. “I want you in one of those satin dresses. You should be in bed already when I come to you. With pillows. Lots of pillows. I want you already aroused when I get there. Like you are now.”
She closed her eyes and saw what he described, and herself waiting in erotic anticipation. His fingers squeezed her nipples gently, sending jolts of sensation down her body.
“And then?”
“Whatever I want, as you said.” He separated from her then. All of him.
She grasped the edge of the washstand to steady herself. “You aren’t just going to leave me like this!”
“I thought you had things to do today.”
“Jonathan.”
He laughed. His arm circled her body, her feet left the ground, and she landed on the bed. He braced himself over her and thrust into her hard.
He lifted her leg and thrust again, deeper. Marvelous tremors came alive in response to the force of it. She bent her knees to her chest so it could be deeper yet, more filling, more complete. Rising above her on taut arms, his severe face angled so he watched what he did to her, he withdrew slowly and entered hard in a joining that left her gasping, frantic, lifting her hips impatiently.
It turned savage, and the force and power commanded pleasures she could not control. The tremors broke free and flowed all through her in a fast wave of perfect sensation. It did not end there, but happened again and again, in perfect echoes of fulfillment that made her body cry repeatedly. It went on forever, it seemed. Finally his own tremor broke so physically that it shook the bed.
He collapsed on her with a groaning sigh. She embraced him as closely as she could, sharing all that she could. She let her soul flow within the bliss, and did not care if it was reckless to allow herself to love him the way she did now.
“You plan on dallying every day until almostnoon?” Marian set the plate in front of Jonathan, then folded her arms. “I need to know, so I don’t bother cleaning the pans if I’ll be making breakfast again this late.”
He tried to appear chagrined. Celia caught his eye while she tended some plants near the window.
“I expect most days it won’t be quite this late. My apologies if I have disrupted the household.”
“Oh, you’ve disrupted this household plenty, Mr. Albrighton. Come fair weather when the windows are open, you may be disrupting the whole street.”
Marian went back down to the kitchen. Jonathan finished his food, then went over to Celia, who clipped weak leaves from a broad-leafed plant.
He embraced her from behind as she worked. “I have disrupted your day as well as the household. It was bad of me.”
“Very bad. Nor have we heard the last of it. Wait until Bella tells Marian about the mess we made with the water. There may not be enough rags in this house to mop it all up.”
There had been a lot of washing and caressing and soapy play besides his first service to her. Her screaming climax on the bed had been a beginning, not an end.
He tucked her warmth against him, and again felt the soft strokes of the cloth as she dried him less than an hour ago. He saw her golden crown lower, and his mind and body knew again the unbearable pleasure she had created with her mouth.
The memory made him harden once more against her. She turned her face so he saw her profile. “I would have thought you’d had enough,” she teased.
Not enough. Never enough. He noticed a subtle distraction in her, however, as if for all the intimacy of this embrace, her mind considered other things.
As would his own, when he permitted it. Eventually he must. He was glad for the morning’s joy, however, and the excuse to delay all that.
He released her. “Will you be going to Mayfair for these errands you must do? I will take you in the cabriolet, and tether my horse.”
“I think that I will wait until tomorrow for those errands, and take care of some household matters closer to home today.” She reached up and patted his jaw. “You have not yet shaved, anyway. If I am to accomplish anything today, I must leave sooner than you will be able to.”
He kissed her, and went up the stairs to shave and finish dressing, but he paused and looked at Celia through the doorway before the stairwell swallowed him. For all her luminous smiles and intimate gazes, she had left some of her fresh joy in her chamber. Now she pondered that plant while she snipped, as if it contained the answers to life.
Celia stopped her carriage in front of a brick building in the City. A boy lingered near the front door, and offered to walk the horse while she was away. She gave him a few pence, and approached the door while the carriage rolled away.
She plucked a letter from her reticule. It had been waiting when she came down from her bedchamber today. It had arrived in the morning mail, and had been lying there in her house, waiting to ruin a day begun gloriously.
She ent
ered the building and found the chambers of Mr. Harold Watson, Solicitor.
Mr. Watson had requested she call at his chambers at one o’clock. It was now beyond half past one. She rather hoped that she had come too late. She would not mind a few days to prepare for this, although she doubted there were any way to do so.
What was going to happen was inevitable. Jonathan had made sure it would when he seduced her, hadn’t he? And she had allowed it, for all her drama in making her big decision. Now, instead of a life of security, she would have the memories of a wonderful passion that gained her nothing, enjoyed for a few weeks when she was young.
Ten years hence, what would she think of the trade she had made, and the affair that resulted? That she had forgiven Jonathan his deception too easily, in order to enjoy the power and excitement? That pleasure had so ruled her that she forgot to be sensible? When she was with him, she set aside thoughts of their inevitable parting so that would not ruin the joy, but she was not so stupid as to ever really forget it.
A clerk ushered her into Mr. Watson’s private chamber. She stood there in shock while the door closed behind her. She barely heard the greeting of Mr. Watson, who was a wiry, short man with graying hair and an unfashionable beard. The guest who had been sitting with him commanded all of her attention.
“You did not say in your letter that Mr. Dargent would be here, Mr. Watson.”
“I advised him to attend, Miss Pennifold. As his solicitor, it is my duty to attempt an amiable solution to the disagreement about the property.”
“There is no disagreement,” Anthony said, impatiently. “I keep telling you that. You have seen the papers, Watson. You know my claim is solid.”
“Mr. Watson is trying to spare you the scandal if full meaning of that indenture becomes widely known, Anthony. Is that not true, Mr. Watson?”
Mr. Watson’s expressive tilt of his head was more acknowledgment than agreement. “It is my experience that if two parties in a dispute speak fairly, a brief can be avoided.”
Sinful in Satin Page 24
