by Stacy Reid
She quite liked the way he stared as if riveted by her. But why have you been avoiding me? And suddenly she knew she had struck the truth. He was not at all comfortable with their marriage either, but it flummoxed her why he hadn’t made some sort attempt to find comfortable grounds. He was a man so self-assured and powerful. She couldn't imagine he would shy away from getting close to her.
Unless...
She glanced at him. “Are you by chance in love with another, my lord?”
“I beg your pardon?”
She tilted her head back to look him in the eyes. “You heard me.”
He seemed bemused. “No... you are the only woman ever to capture my regard, Fanny,”
Delight shivered through her. She felt hot and achy and wonderful from that soft assurance. Flustered she withdrew the plates, delicately arranging a few edibles for their consumption. She handed him a plate.
“Thank you,” he murmured.
They ate in silence for a few minutes, and she hated how awkward it felt. She sneaked several glances his way, each time to find him chewing thoughtfully while he watched her. Fanny searched for a topic of conversation, a bit annoyed that he did not start some discourse.
“Your meeting earlier seemed unpleasant?” she asked, dabbing at her lips with a napkin.
A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “The other factory owners are not particularly pleased with me.”
“May I inquire why?” Fanny hoped he did not sprout some nonsense about it being an affair for men.
Her husband placed his half-eaten plate on the small table and hauled himself to his feet walking over to the bank of windows. “There isn’t any one reason,” he said gruffly. “It is complicated.”
The breadth across his shoulders seemed tense, and though he stood with his hands thrust into his pocket, she could sense the tension thrumming through him. She too lowered her plate, rose, and walked over to him. Fanny stood close enough so they touched, and she leaned her head against his shoulder. He jolted slightly but did not pull away. She had no notion why she did it.
“Perhaps there is some way I could help?”
He did not dismiss her offer.
“Look at them,” he murmured.
She lowered her gaze to the bustling street filled with detritus which men, women, and children skirted around, with a purpose in their steps. A street urchin stole an orange from a cart, and a flower seller leaned against a grimy brick building looking wary. This was a part of London she had never seen before, and she could not identify with the society below. But her husband did, and it was that awareness which prompted her to ask,
“What do you see?”
“People. The force that makes our city thrive, they are the working men, women, and children, men like me make our profits from. They are hard workers, filled with pride and a determination not to be swallowed by the metropolis. I pay my workers better rates than all the other factories, and recently I hired several doctors to look after the health of my employees in my various foundries. That saw dozens of other workers, mostly the women leaving the other factories and coming to me for work. The smoke and the pollution are hard on their lungs, and they deserve proper care. I've also ordered the construction of new housing in Manchester and Sheffield, made with better materials and with good sewage disposal. None of the other owners appreciate my forward thinking.”
How astonishing. “And that is resented?”
“It is.”
“I should think the other owners would model their work ethics from yours, not complain about it,” she said pragmatically. “And it is also a kindness that is needed.”
“Those cheap, greedy damn bastards only care about the money lining their pockets.”
She said nothing at his profanity, feeling a sense of pride that he would be so natural with her. They stood there for long minutes as he spoke about his work and how foolish it was to hire the workers flocking to his factories when he’d already bought the machinery that would make them obsolete. It struck her how kind he was, for she couldn’t imagine anyone of her society sacrificing for others.
“What will you do? Let them go?”
“No. There is a general fear that would lead to rioting. People are desperate for work to provide for food their families. While it is smart and will be more profitable to fire hundreds of workers and install smelting machines, it is also unconscionable.”
A pang went through her heart. These were never things she had had to worry about, how to put food on her table or how she would provide for her children. She rested a hand on her stomach, genuinely unable to imagine such a life. She peered at the flower seller with new eyes, wondering how many mouths she had to feed, and wondering what had placed that hopeless look on her face. “I've heard that you are a business genius,” she murmured, peering up at him. “Maybe you could invest in something new or start another business that would put these workers to use.”
He smiled. “I already have my team working on it. And Percy has helped with positions for several women I’ve had to let go recently.”
If she recalled his friend Percy Taylor owned several hotels, in London, and across the continent. “Perhaps you could also provide some severance package? Colin recently let go of a servant who had been in our household for years. He generously provided the man with a cottage, and enough money to live comfortably. You could do something similar for each worker you need to let go.” She warmed to the idea, her thoughts buzzing. “Perhaps you could go through their employment file, and base it on their years of service and position, and pay them enough money so their families will not starve or suffer until they find another position.”
He shifted to face her, admiration, and something sweeter piercing the gray shadows of his eyes. “Yes,” he murmured, cupping her cheek.
His touch was firm yet light and her body hummed with nerves and anticipation. Was he going to kiss her? His regard was delightfully warm and intense.
“This is an argument I presented to the other owners to their outrage. We hire hundreds of people. That will see profits cut drastically. My proposition did not amuse them.”
“You’ll not back down, will you?”
His face was suddenly proud and unyielding and a bit too ruthless for comfort. “Never.”
“And will you be in any danger for it?”
He was silent for long moments. “Perhaps I would have been before I was a viscount. I've learned it is not so easy to murder a peer. And if they were foolish enough to try, I can more than protect myself, at the cost of their lives if necessary.”
The cold logic of his statement made her shudder. “Sebastian!” To speak so casually of killing.
His fingertip stroked along her chin lightly. Her awareness contracted to that single touch. How was it possible to be so aware of him?
“I have another meeting soon, wife. Thank you for luncheon. I will escort you to the carriage.”
She nodded mutely, wishing to spend more time with him, liking that he shared so willingly with her as if he found her equal in wit and intelligence. "Have you been avoiding my bed?"
Fanny couldn’t say who the question appalled more. Their gaze collided. Shadows, doubts, and amusement danced in his, but he remained silent.
“Are you not to answer?”
He lowered his hands from her cheek, and she was bereft of warmth. He moved away from the windows and sat on the edge of his desk, his legs splayed with insolent grace. “Your forthrightness surprised me.”
She made her way to stand before him, acutely conscious of the hem of her dress brushing his boot. “And that is not an answer.”
His lips smiled, but his eyes remained watchful and a bit chilled. “I can enjoy your company without bedding you, wife.”
“How odd. Because we’ve only had dinner a few times in fourteen days, and we’ve made no social rounds together.”
“It seems I may have been doing you a disservice, my lady.”
“So, you have been avoiding my bed?�
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His head dipped once in a brief nod.
She drew a hitching breath. “Why?” she demanded bluntly.
“I had the notion exercising marital obligations more than once a month would be a distressing strain on your nerves.” His tone held a bit of self-mockery and some other indefinable emotion.
Still, she scowled in affront. “I am not a delicate ninny. And I would like to believe the way you made me feel extended to more than marital obligations, my lord,” she whispered.
“Are you saying, wife, you feel a need for me to be in your bed?”
Fanny blushed but refused to look away from his penetrating stare. “Even if we...we do not share intimacy, it was beyond lovely to sleep in your arms,” she said wistfully, recalling how empty, and cold, and lonely the silence of her bedchamber had been for the past several nights.
“Then it would be my pleasure to be in your bed, every night, Fanny.” There was a carnal threat in his voice that spoke to wicked deeds and not just sleeping. The hot memory of his lips licking her womanly flesh cut through her, and it took an enormous will to battle her mortification.
She failed abysmally from the amusement that lit in his eyes.
“How breathtakingly lovely, and sweet you appear.”
Her pulse jumped in her throat when he reached for her. Fanny willingly went into his arms, to stand between his open thighs, lifting her gaze to his. She swallowed when he lightly brushed his mouth across hers, slowly savoring.
“You need to go,” he said hoarsely as if he were in pain.
Not yet. “Why? I am enjoying your kisses,” she said shyly.
His breath exited in an audible rush. “The very taste of you is shattering every discipline I’ve ever used to govern my passions. I am tempted to splay you on my desk and make love to you.”
“But it is daytime.”
A huff of sound, which seemed suspiciously like laughter came from him.
A flush of desire swept along his cheekbones. “We can have carnal relations at any time.”
The soft words burned into her heating her body with chaotic hunger. It was as he placed a fingertip under her chin and lifted her gaze to his, Fanny realized she had been staring at his chest. They stared at each other silently, a question in his gaze, one she feared she understood but hardly knew how to respond.
Brazenly she lifted her arms and wrapped them around his back very tightly. It was all the invitation he needed to ravish her lips with deep kisses. Fanny parted her lips, moaning at the hot stroke of his tongue, and the warmth that filled her veins. How quickly he spun her senses and had hunger clawing to burst free. If she were still the same fanciful creature she had been several weeks ago, she would have fallen in love with her husband right then. It’s just passion. Somehow, he shifted them, and now she was the one sitting on his desk, her legs scandalously splayed, her husband between them.
Good heavens!
Sebastian slowly stroked upward to her hip. She felt exposed and terribly vulnerable but wanted more of his embrace. “How wickedly wanton you must think me,” she moaned breathlessly.
“I find you delightful, Fanny.”
Then another soft kiss feathered over her lips. And she sighed, loving his gentleness. His wicked fingers continue their path, the pad of his thumb was rough and warm; evoking such desperate need in her blood, she shivered.
Then he was there, at her sex, and her eyes flew open. Her husband was staring at her flushed face, capturing every nuance of her passion filled expression. She was exceedingly embarrassed. “Sebastian—”
He slid a finger deep inside her. That hard but wonderful sensual stroke robbed her of breath, and she stared at him helplessly. How indecent of them, with his outer office bustling with activities only a few paces away. As if he knew her thoughts, the devil smiled at her and dipped his head, so his breath feathered across her lips. “You must be very quiet.”
Her eyes widened.
Then he pulled back his finger and plunged them back into her clenching sex. Fanny fisted his jacket tightly, at the pleasure that punched deep in her stomach.
“I love how wet you get for me,” he murmured, kissing the tip of her ear. His lips dipped to touch the spot below her ear.
She buried her hot face against his chest, softly moaning when he added another finger. Thankfully there was no pain, only a slight pinch as her flesh adjusted to the tender invasion. He stroked her over and over, until hunger clawed through her, fighting to break free. The piercing sensation became so much, she bit into his chest, muffling the moans she was unable to suppress. He groaned, and nudged her legs wider, pushing his fingers diabolically deep.
Fanny bucked, released his clothes and flesh from her teeth and glanced up. His eyes raged with need and lust and tender emotions as he loved her with his fingers. She trembled as if fevered, and then the tight, exquisite feeling broke, and pulse after pulse of pleasure stormed through her. How utterly glorious. He kissed her ravenously as she writhed against his touch, drinking her cries, and caging her into the strong comfort of his arms.
He pulled from her and tugged her dress back down over her thighs. She was uncomfortably aware of the wetness between her legs, and how wickedly they had behaved.
Sebastian stepped away. “Are you well?”
Fanny sighed, feeling languid in the aftermath of such startling but wonderful pleasure. “Yes.”
“I will summon the carriage.”
She nodded wordlessly, her eyes widening at the visible bulge at the front of his trousers. A desire lingered within her to please him, but she could not bring herself to make love with him in his office! She relaxed when she realized he would not offend her modesty by asking or seducing her to it, which he could have done for she had been witless just now.
He opened the door and relayed orders for the carriage to be readied. Fanny lifted her chin and met his gaze when he turned around. His expression was a tight grimace of need and discomfort, and she marveled at his restraint. “I will see you at dinner,” she murmured.
There was the slightest of hesitation, then he said, “I have a prior engagement.”
“Of course,” she said politely, pinning the hair he had tumbled. “I’m to attend Lady Wembley’s ball tomorrow evening. I know you dislike such frivolities, but will you attend with me if you’ve no prior engagement?”
“You seem to be laboring under a grievous misapprehension. Anything you wish of me, Fanny, I will gladly oblige. You are my wife.”
Pleasure burst inside her, like the heat of the sun after a cold winter. “Thank you, Sebastian, I have also accepted invitations to several balls for the season. I’m sure we will be the butt of much speculations.”
“I’m not the sort of man to be afraid of rumors.”
Relief filled her. “I would appreciate breaking fast with you on occasion.”
He smiled. “Done.”
Settling her hat atop her head, she gathered the small basket and made her way from his office, conscious of his stare.
“Fanny?”
She paused, her hand on the doorknob, and glanced back warily.
“My previous engagement was a dinner affair at my friend’s house. Percy Taylor. There will be others. Actors and actresses, lawyers, artisans, and even a few rising stars in politics, not the general lot you socialize with. Would you like to attend with me and meet my friends?”
He had offered a bridge, and a lump formed in her throat for it was a connection to a world she had never explored, and one no doubt her family would be appalled to know of. For so long her life had been about learning how to become a lady. It finally dawned that being married to this man, she would have to dismiss some of the lessons taught by her mother and governess. Fanny wasn’t sure if she should be appalled or fascinated. “I would love it, Sebastian,” she said unable to stop the brilliant smile curving her lips. “Thank you for asking.”
“Thank you for accepting.”
He seemed bemused as if he had anticipated her
refusal, and she quite enjoyed that she had surprised him. Fanny sailed through the door, feeling hopeful, and astonishingly breathless. Footfalls behind her alerted her to her husband's presence. She remained silent as he escorted her down the steps and toward the carriage. Fanny paused at the flower seller, shocking the woman by offering her a ten-pound note for the entire cart with orders to deliver them to the hospital. Sebastian assisted her into the carriage and ordered the coachman to take her home and never return her to this part of the city. She gasped in outrage, but the equipage rumbled away before she could rebuke his high handiness.
Fanny smiled. He made her feel more in a couple of weeks than the marquess had made her feel in months of courting. This was a second chance to fall in love, and she did not want to shy away from it. In truth, that would be very silly when she was already married to Sebastian. Their union was permanent, and she felt the sweetest longings stirring in her heart for his touches, his smiles, and she would embrace them.
Chapter 9
Several hours later, Sebastian leaned against the window overlooking the gardens of Percy Taylor’s drawing room in Portman Square, watching his wife indulging in a rousing, raucous game of charades. Fanny was the most delightful creature in the room, and he couldn't stop staring at her. She wore a turquoise gown trimmed with gold embroidery and delicate golden slippers, and her hair was upswept high on her head with ringlets caressing her shoulders. A few times Percy arched a mocking brow, as many would consider his female companions to be of the demi-monde. Selina, a fair-haired beauty with a willowy frame, was an actress, and Josephine, dark-haired, and petite, with a large, vivacious personality was a French opera singer. Both women had excellent qualities but would not be considered acceptable to be in society. They seemed delighted and amused by his regard for his Viscountess. His other two friends, Richard Plymouth, a country gentleman of no small means, and Theodore Dunn, a solicitor seemed equally bemused by his enchantment with his wife.
