by Merry Farmer
She finished her explanation and peeked up to see what Mrs. Ainsworth thought. The older woman wore an expression of surprise, and a fair amount of amusement. “Well, we can’t go telling the housemaids that story,” she said, setting down her tea. “Could we tell them that you and Lord Helm have been acquaintances for quite some time, and that unbeknownst to us, arrangements were already in place for your nuptials at Mr. Croydon’s house party? Heaven knows it wouldn’t be the first time Lord Helm has left the rest of us in the dark.”
Lavinia’s mother would probably faint at the frank way Mrs. Ainsworth spoke, but Lavinia found herself smiling broadly. “If you think that would be best, then you have my permission to share that version of things. I am glad I told you the truth, though.”
“And I’m glad I can be here to ease what I’m certain is a startling change,” Mrs. Ainsworth said.
In spite of her smiles and delight, Lavinia was seized by the sudden urge to cry. What would her life have been like if her own mother had been as understanding and compassionate as Armand’s housekeeper? It was a heady feeling to be embraced so warmly. Perhaps her mother had unintentionally done a wonderful thing by pushing her into Armand’s arms. And perhaps her friends were right when they hinted that she could be just as happy and free married under the right circumstances as she could maintaining a stalwart, single life.
“Mrs. Ainsworth, Mrs. Ainsworth,” the youngest maid, Cherry, said, bursting into the room. The moment she saw Lavinia, she nearly shrieked in fright and froze on the spot.
“Is that a proper greeting for your new mistress?” Mrs. Ainsworth scolded her, but not with malice.
“I’m sorry, my lady,” Cherry said, dipping into a low, clumsy curtsy. “Good day, my lady. At your service, my lady.”
“Hello, Cherry,” Lavinia greeted her.
Cherry snapped straight and turned to Mrs. Ainsworth. “We’ve guests, ma’am. They’ve just arrived. Unexpected like.”
Lavinia’s heart squeezed to a stone in her chest. It couldn’t be her mother, could it? She wouldn’t dare show up on Armand’s doorstep less than twenty-four hours after Lavinia broke away from her.
Her fears were eased somewhat as Mr. Bondar marched into the room. “Lord and Lady Tavistock are here to call, my lady.”
A whole different sort of panic filled Lavinia. “Lady Tavistock?” She set her tea on Mrs. Ainsworth’s desk and stood. “How does she know I’m here?”
“Begging your pardon, my lady,” Mr. Bondar began, “but she doesn’t. Lord Tavistock informed me that he and his wife were simply passing by as part of a day trip, and they thought they’d stop by to see if Lord Helm were home.”
“We must invite them to luncheon,” Lavinia said, taking charge on instinct. “Lady Tavistock is an important woman in political circles in London.”
Mr. Bondar and Mrs. Ainsworth exchanged looks, then turned to Lavinia for guidance.
“If she is someone whose favor you wish to gain, we’ll do our best to impress her,” Mrs. Ainsworth said.
They all set to work. Mr. Bondar returned upstairs to assist Armand in whatever way butlers assisted their masters while Lavinia ran through a quick course of action with Mrs. Ainsworth and Mrs. Piper.
Exhaustion didn’t matter. The impossibility of entertaining Lady Tavistock within hours of arriving in a new home and within days of assuming a new title and position in life was irrelevant. Lavinia had a duty to her husband to fulfill, and she was determined to do it to the best of her ability. As soon as things were settled downstairs, she rushed to Armand’s bedroom, tidied up her hair and clothes, made sure she was presentable, then flew back downstairs to the sitting room where Armand was entertaining the Tavistocks. She smiled and greeted Lady Tavistock with modesty and as much grace as she could muster, answering her surprise and delight over finding Lavinia married so unexpectedly with every appearance of felicitation and ease. When luncheon was served, she drew on every lesson in how a titled lady should deport herself to see that her guests were happy and satisfied.
By the time Lord and Lady Tavistock departed, Lavinia was beyond exhausted and she couldn’t stop shaking as she thought of the disaster such a sudden call to entertain could have caused. But there was little time to think about it. Mrs. Ainsworth had questions about her wardrobe and how to send for the rest of her things from her mother’s house. And while Armand had the look of a man who wanted to spend time with his wife, they barely had a chance to see each other before Lavinia practically fell into his bed that night. She was so worn out that she couldn’t bring herself to care that she was sleeping with a stranger yet again.
Fortunately, Armand seemed as exhausted as she was and in no mood for awkward intimacy.
“You were dazzling today, you know,” he said as they settled into the large, oak bed and its voluminous quilts and featherbeds.
“Hardly dazzling,” Lavinia said, too tired to measure her words. “We had guests. I did what I was supposed to do to make sure they felt welcome.”
“I would have made my apologies and turned them away,” Armand said, sounding more like he was talking to himself. He plumped the pillow behind him, then flopped onto his back, pulling the covers up to his chin. “How did you know exactly what to do for the Tavistocks?”
Lavinia’s answer was delayed by a long yawn. “Mama spent years drilling social etiquette into me. Lord Tavistock is a peer. We are in the country rather than town. Cold meats and soup wouldn’t have been my first choice, but they were sufficient based on what we had on hand. If we host a supper party, service should be a la Russe, with two kinds of fish, three savory vegetable dishes, a roast….” Her words faded into half-asleep rambling as a gentle darkness closed around her.
She snapped awake again at the sensation of Armand’s arm closing around her, pulling her back against his chest.
“Is this all right?” he asked, snuggling against her.
Lavinia was suddenly wide awake. The heat of Armand’s body encircled her like a teasing promise. The firmness of his muscles was both a curiosity and an unexpected temptation. The part of him she’d found curiously delightful as it invaded her on her wedding night nestled against her backside in a state of half-excitement. She caught herself wishing he’d move his hands just a smidgen higher, toward her breasts, or a little bit lower, towards the part of her where a curious ache was growing.
“It’s fine,” she said quietly.
“Good.” He nestled further against her, and his breathing slowed. “It was lovely seeing you blossom in front of our guests today,” he said, evidently not ready for sleep yet.
“I would hardly call it blossoming,” she said, wanting to wriggle her backside against him but not daring to. “I was simply doing as I’ve been instructed to do.”
“Hmm.” Armand adjusted the blankets over them. “It seems to me that you’ve had far too much instruction and far too little amusement in your life.”
An ache in her heart joined the one growing in her core. “Perhaps.”
Armand was silent for a moment, long enough for Lavinia to wonder if he’d fallen asleep, before surprising her by saying, “Are there things that you’ve wanted to do that your mother has forbidden?”
She could have laughed. “A great many things,” she said, letting herself relax at last and soften against him.
“Such as?” he asked.
She thought for a moment as sleep tempted her once again. “I always wanted to ride a horse, but she would never let me. Never mind that some of the grandest ladies in England are accomplished equestrians, she believed it was too dangerous and that riding negatively effects a woman’s ability to conceive.”
As soon as the indelicate words were out of her mouth, Lavinia winced. Had she really brought up conception at a moment like that? It didn’t help matters when she felt that part of Armand twitch against her. He cleared his throat and shifted as though looking for a more comfortable position, then went very still as that part of him continued to expand.
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“It’s settled then,” he said, his voice slightly rough. “As soon as possible, once we’re rested and the duties of the house had been taken care of, I’ll take you down to the stables and teach you to ride.” His body tensed in enticing ways. “A horse,” he clarified. “I’ll teach you to ride a horse. Your mother would love that.” He paused, then repeated, “Your mother,” almost nonsensically.
For some reason, that eased the tension she could feel radiating from him. His member softened, and before too long, his breathing had steadied out into sleep. She, on the other hand, lay awake for a while longer, cursing her mother for reasons she couldn’t quite put her finger on.
Chapter 10
A few days later, Armand awoke to the quiet sound of one of his maids setting the fire in the fireplace at the other end of the room. The knowledge that someone else was in the room while he lay in bed, Lavinia in his arms, was enough to knock the sleep right out of him. He lay as still as he could, sheltering Lavinia with his body and wondering if the presence of the maid bothered her. Anyone who had lived in any sort of fine home should be used to maids slipping in and out at all hours of the day and night to do their duties, but there was something intrusive about a third person bearing witness to what was undeniably a sensitive moment. Especially when the evening before had been spent in another awkward, unsatisfying attempt at love-making. Servants had a way of guessing exactly what was going on with their masters by the way the bedcovers were wrinkled.
But Lavinia slept on, and soon the maid was gone. Armand relaxed, and his thoughts turned to how perfect his lovely, young wife felt against him. He’d had such good intentions the night before. The days since returning to Broadclyft Hall had been busy and tiring as they both settled into their roles as lord and lady of the manor. He’d intended to make love to her far more enticingly than he had on their wedding night, but they’d both been exhausted, and while things had gone more smoothly than the first time, his performance had left much to be desired. Already, he was thinking forward to when he could try again.
His thoughts had a physical effect. They’d shifted during the night so that now he lay on his back with her snuggled against him. It was a blessing, because as the blood of arousal rushed to his groin, he wasn’t poking her. Not that he wouldn’t like to be poking her. Practice made perfect, after all, and they definitely needed practice.
A rush of giddiness at the thought had him shaking with repressed laughter. Few things could be more ridiculous than lying in his bed with a swiftly-growing erection while his beautiful, accidental wife snoozed softly against him. If they knew each other better, he would have nudged her to the side, swept off her nightgown and awakened her by making love to her tenderly. As things stood, he was fairly certain that if he tried that, she would probably wake up screaming. The maids would have something to say about that.
He attempted to relax. A few more minutes’ sleep would do him a world of good. But neither sleep nor relaxation was in the cards. Lavinia stirred, her body undulating against his as she dreamed on. Her breasts pressed against him, only a few layers of cotton keeping him from touching her skin. His cock ached in response, begging him for relief. She was his wife, after all. It was only natural that the two of them should enjoy intimacy whenever the need struck.
He couldn’t do that to her. He was next door to a stranger to her, one who had inadvertently implied he regretted being forced to marry her just a few days ago. He would be the blackest sort of villain to push himself on her now. So instead, he carefully slipped away from her, trying his best not to disturb her as he crept out of bed.
With his nightshirt tented in front of him, he hobbled across the room to the painted screen, behind which sat a convenient chamber pot. As soon as he was hidden from view of the bed, he bunched his nightshirt at his waist and took himself in hand. It was far better to quickly take care of things himself than to impose on Lavinia. And while a part of him felt guilty for closing his eyes and imagining her luscious body laid bare for him, her legs parted, revealing her glistening cunny, ready for him, her nipples taut, and her eyes beckoning as she licked her lips, the vision did the trick.
He swallowed the groan of pleasure that escaped from him and stroked himself feverishly, enjoying the act a little too much. He was as bad as a schoolboy playing with himself for the first time, but the Lavinia of his imagination was a siren that had him primed and ready to come. Someday soon, he prayed, they’d be close enough for him to feel her tightness around his cock instead of his hand, and to hear her pleasured moans mingled with his panting. Adding sound to his vision of her ignited the cannon of his climax.
“Armand?” Lavinia’s soft question came just as he did. The heady relief of orgasm pulsed through him at the same time as the jolt of being caught. Of course, he hadn’t exactly been caught, not yet.
“Just a moment,” he said, his voice far too winded to be innocent. He leaned against the wall, letting his nightshirt fall back over his spent member. Sweat dripped down his back and dotted his forehead. He mopped it away with his sleeve, but the flush he was certain reddened his face wasn’t going to go away as soon.
“I’m just going to pop down the hall to wash and dress for the day,” Lavinia said.
Armand jerked straight at the sound of her climbing out of bed and padding across the carpet. He stepped out from behind the screen and attempted to greet her with a calm, unsuspicious smile.
He failed.
Lavinia blinked when she saw him. “Is something the matter?” She changed directions to approach him, touching the back of her hand to his forehead. “You’re flushed.”
“I’m fine,” he said, still not completely recovered. He took her hand away from his forehead and rested it over his heart—which wasn’t the best thing to do.
“Your heart is racing,” she said, her expression full of concern. “Are you certain you shouldn’t call a doctor?”
“I am a doctor,” he reminded her. “And I’m fine.”
She bit her lip, studying him with concern. “Perhaps you should go back to bed for a while.”
Images of her in bed with him, the two of them tangled and sweating, ignited the whole process he’d just embarrassed himself to complete minutes ago.
“There isn’t time to go back to bed,” he said, stepping away from her and heading to the window to throw it open. The burst of cold air did just what he needed it to do. “I’m going to teach you to ride today,” he said, then quickly added. “A horse.”
She watched him with puzzlement. “What else would I ride?”
Visions of her atop him, breasts bouncing as she impaled herself on him scattered Armand’s thoughts. “Nothing,” he said, feigning innocence. He needed to get his imagination under control, and he needed to do it soon. “Let me know if there’s anything you need and I’ll have Mrs. Ainsworth direct the maids to fetch it at once.”
“All right.” She smiled and started for the door, but turned back to him as she reached for the handle. “You would tell me if you were ill, wouldn’t you? Or if there were anything I could do to make you feel better?”
She could strip off her nightgown and leap back into his bed, but he wasn’t about to ask her for that.
“Of course I would,” he said instead, managing a genuine smile for her kindness. “But for now, you’ll want to pick out the most appropriate dress you’ve brought with you for riding.”
“Yes, right away.” Her smile grew excited and she opened the door, rushing out into the hall.
As soon as the door shut behind her, Armand sagged against the broad windowsill. He shook his head. He was shocked with himself for being so suddenly consumed with desire for his wife. Was it the fact that they’d escaped the meddling of Winterberry Park? The comfort of home? It wasn’t as though he’d never had lovers, though it had been a while. Or was it simply that with every new surprise Lavinia had for him, every revelation of her character and her kindness, the impulse to make her his wife for genuine reasons and no
t just because a dozen other people had wanted it was taking over his body? Or was that his heart? He hadn’t thought of India for days.
He stood with a sigh, heading to his washstand to clean himself up. Whatever the reasons, he owed it to Lavinia to be a steady, undemanding husband and not one consumed by lust. But that didn’t stop him from hoping that there might come a time when she was consumed by lust for him as well.
* * *
He was hiding something from her. Lavinia was absolutely certain that Armand was hiding something crucial from her. He couldn’t have been more suspicious if he’d tried when she’d awakened that morning to find him using the chamber pot. Was he ill? Was that the reason he’d been so moody at Winterberry Park? Of course, anyone would be moody if they’d had a surprise marriage sprung upon them. But perhaps he’d been willing to go along with the marriage because he knew his health was delicate and he wouldn’t be married long.
But no, that was ridiculous. Armand was as healthy as an ox. He hadn’t had the air of a sick man at all. Quite the contrary. There’d been something alluring about him, something enticing and a bit naughty. It’d left her unsettled, but in a good way. She’d surprised herself by enjoying what they’d done the night before, although it had still been frustrating and inadequate somehow. And the teasing glimpses of his chest, arms, and legs through the gaps in his nightshirt just then, the way the cotton garment was almost thin enough for her to see through, had made her want to lift up the hem and—
His hand brushed hers as he swayed closer to her on their walk down to the stables, and she nearly stumbled. It was as though an electric shock had gone straight from her hand to her unmentionables.
“Are you all right?” Armand asked, reaching out to steady her.
“I must have stepped on a stone,” she lied, sending him an apologetic smile.
“Yes, I imagine the ground is a bit uneven after those storms a few days ago,” he said, offering his arm.
