Christine Merrill - Regency Surrender - Wicked Deception

‘It is very practical,’ he said, politely.

She had a sudden memory of lying with Montague, wearing the sheer lawn he preferred. And then there were the nights he expected her to come to him wearing nothing at all. She could not help the sudden shudder of revulsion.

He lifted the blanket and bunched it around her shoulders. ‘As I told you before, old houses are cold. But you may trust that I will keep you warm when we are together like this.’ With two fingers, he plucked the nightcap from her head and dropped it on the floor beside the bed. Then he blew a warm breath against her ear.

This made her shiver as well. But it was accompanied by a sigh of delight that surprised her and drew a satisfied nod from him. Then he spoke again. ‘I am curious. You take the time to make masterpieces for your friends. They could talk of nothing else but the cleverness of your work. When I did not see lace trimming on your gown during the day, or at dinner, I assumed I would see some tonight.’ He glanced down at the cap on the floor and shook his head in disappointment. ‘Why do you not wear the finer stuff yourself?’

She had a sudden memory of the chest her mother had kept. It was as big as a wardrobe, the outside inlaid with intricate tracings of sulphur, the inside smelling of beeswax and cloves. You will have it some day , she had said. For your trousseau.

How long had it been since she’d thought of it? After Montague had come to her, she’d realised that marriage was a lost dream. That had been the day that she’d set the items she’d already made aside, so that Margot might have them.

Her husband was waiting for an answer.

‘It is nice to see others happy,’ she said.

‘I would like to see you happy as well,’ he replied. ‘You would be most attractive in a gown trimmed with the lace you were making tonight.’ He drew a finger across her bodice, as if to indicate where it might go.

She shivered. ‘It would not be very modest. You would see...’ She stopped. She could imagine her nipples, poking through the lace.

‘I know,’ he said, with a smile, his hand pausing dangerously near to one of them.

‘If you wish, I will remove the gown,’ she said, squirming under the covers to draw up the hem.

He covered her hand with his to stop her. ‘You misunderstand me.’

Perhaps she did not. ‘You do not wish to see my body?’

He gave a nervous laugh. ‘I wish to. Very much. I am sure I enjoyed the sight of it before and I look forward to seeing it again. But there is no reason to rush.’

‘Of course not,’ she said, stretching beside him again and pressing a hand to the middle of his chest.

In response, he stroked her hair. ‘It is quite embarrassing to admit this, but I do not know if I have the strength to perform. The day has been tiring and I am still weak as a kitten. I am likely to shame myself, should I attempt to be intimate with you.’

When she glanced down, his body said otherwise. She could see the beginnings of arousal growing beneath the bedsheet. ‘We will do whatever you wish,’ she said, surprised to feel disappointment.

He closed his eyes and sighed, as though it were a relief. Then he said, ‘Then we will go where the mood takes us. And I do enjoy your being here, with me. The sound of your voice is soothing. I was told you read to me, while I was unconscious.’

‘I did,’ she said. ‘Only novels. Nothing of substance.’ She smiled. ‘It seems we share an interest in them.’ It had been a chance to indulge a guilty pleasure of her own, while pretending to help him.

‘I do not remember the words,’ he said. ‘But I think I remember the sound of you. You must speak more often for I love to hear it. Your voice is like music.’

‘Thank you,’ she said.

He closed his eyes, and leaned back into the pillows. ‘You have listened to me all night. Now you must speak. Tell me of yourself.’

Her hands froze on his chest and she hoped he did not feel her go rigid with panic. What could she say that might not trigger the very memories she did not want to awaken? ‘What do you wish to know?’

‘How did you become so clever with your hands? Did your mother teach you?’

She relaxed a little, for that topic was harmless enough. ‘It was a skill of hers. But much of the work I taught myself. She was carrying my sister when my father died.’ The words almost stuck in her throat and she hurried past them. ‘After the birth, she was so very weak.’ Memories of her mother were equally painful. ‘When Father had been with us, she’d been young and happy. But without him, she’d go days without speaking, staring out of the window of our tiny apartment, her beauty fading a little each year, until the life was gone from her.’

Will must have recognised the fact, for his hand tightened on her shoulder, as if he could lead her away from the past. ‘But you still have your sister.’

‘Her name is Margot,’ she said, relieved. ‘She is in school.’

He opened one eye and glanced at her. ‘At this time of year?’

‘She spends summers and holidays there as well,’ Justine said. ‘I have no money to help her and must tend to my own work. It is better that she remain there, if there is nowhere for her to stay.’

He had opened both eyes to stare at her now. ‘You have somewhere now,’ he said, shaking his head in disappointment. ‘You are mistress of a house that is more than large enough to hold a young woman, no matter how extravagant her needs might be. Tell me, how old is little Margot?’

‘Nearly twenty,’ she admitted.

‘And still in school?’ he said, surprised. ‘Is she not out yet?’

‘There was no money for a Season.’

‘There is now.’ He settled back into the pillows again, as though there would be no further discussion. ‘She will stay with us until we can arrange for her come out. Let Penny settle everything. She might appear to be a wallflower at times, but she is quite good at organising things. And she is a duchess, after all.’

‘Well...’ she said, running through the list of reasons that such a trip would be impossible, to search for one that made sense.

Will was staring at her again. ‘You want to see her, do you not? There is no estrangement between you?’

‘I want to see her more than anything else in the world,’ she admitted, feeling the tightness in her heart when she thought of her sister ease a little.

‘Then you shall write to her first thing tomorrow and we will have her here, while the weather is still good.’

‘Thank you.’ She would find a way to change his mind in the morning.

But then it occurred to her that she didn’t have to. She could summon Margot and have her in Wales before their guardian knew a thing about it. Once she was part of the duke’s family, he could not threaten her or attempt to remove her without admitting who he was. If he attempted it, Justine would threaten to sacrifice herself and reveal what he had done. She did not know much of chess, but she suspected this was what players called a stalemate.

She looked at William Felkirk again, a smile spreading slowly across her face. He had that slightly puzzled expression she associated with men in the jewellery shop who had been surprised when a word or gesture held more significance than the gems they were offering. With one casual suggestion, the man in the bed beside her had the power to reorder her world. ‘Thank you.’ She said it with more feeling so he might know she was truly grateful. Then, to stop further conversation, she leaned forward and kissed him on the mouth.

She had been kissed often enough. It had been unavoidable. But had she ever kissed a man before? Certainly not like this. It was wet and open mouthed, as though her happiness could not be contained behind closed lips. His mouth was surprisingly sweet, as though the ice cream he had rejected was still on his lips. She tasted the flavour. She quite liked it and the feeling of his firm lips against the tip of her tongue.