Marguerite Kaye - Regency Surrender - Scandal And Deception

He smiled, as if he had discovered a secret. ‘It is just as I thought. Your beauty does not need gilding, but a touch of your own handiwork makes you all the more alluring. Now promise me that the next thing you make will be a gift for yourself.’

‘Yes,’ she whispered. It was an answer to a question he had not asked.

‘Very good,’ he said and stood up again. Then he yawned as he had the previous evening. ‘And now, if you don’t mind, this conversation has put me in a mood to retire early.’ Perhaps he had understood, for the smile he gave her was warm and so full of confidence that it made her blush. ‘You may join me at your leisure.’ When he turned to leave, he barely needed the support of his cane.

She waited until she was sure he had gained the stairs before beginning to pack up her work for the night. She would lie with him tonight, if he wished it. She could not play the role of wife to him without submitting to his desires. It was what he expected. Montague expected it as well. But what had she wanted, when she had first come here?

Nothing more than to be left alone. She wanted to be able to decide for herself what her future held. Instead, she had become an obedient servant to another man. He was kinder than the first. More handsome as well. They shared interests. And they understood each other, or would, if she allowed him to know more of her.

But if she allowed him to know all? Then whatever they shared would be over, as quickly as it had begun. His gentle seduction and caring ways would disappear once he realised that she was another man’s cast off. Worse yet, that she was still that man’s property, set in Will’s house as a spy.

She set the needlework basket beneath her chair, where it would be ready for the next night. She took one last glance at the bit of lace that Will had held, before closing the top of the basket to hide it. It would be wise to shut her dreams away as well, for they would only lead to heartbreak in the end. She would lie with him tonight, as he expected. He deserved her obedience for what he was doing to help Margot, even if he did not understand the urgency of it. But there was no point in investing the act with hopes and plans that would all come to nothing.

Chapter Twelve

She went to her room and summoned the maid to prepare her for bed. She looked at the simple gown laid out for her and thought with distaste of the more daring garments she had left behind in Bath. It was something of that sort that Will expected to see. If this charade continued, she would purchase new ones that were free of memories of her old life.

She donned the gown and refused the nightcap, since he had expressed his dislike of it the previous evening, and requested only a loose braid in her hair. All things would be as he wished. Then she dismissed her maid and went through the door connecting their rooms, shutting it softly behind her.

Tonight, he was just as he had been the night before, leaning against the headboard and waiting for her. He smiled as she entered the room, and moved on the mattress to give her space. As she approached, he gave a single disappointed glance at the gown she was wearing.

Without a second thought, she removed it, draped it over the foot of the bed and climbed naked into the bed beside him. Then she very deliberately rubbed her bare leg against his in a way guaranteed to arouse him.

She felt him start and pull away. For a moment, it almost seemed that he would climb from the opposite side of the bed to get away from her.

She made to withdraw. ‘If you do not want...’

‘No,’ he said. ‘I mean, yes. Stay. Just like this.’ He had relaxed again, drawing her closer, wrapping his arms about her so her breasts pressed into his side. ‘It is just that, as I have told you before, there is no need to rush.’

‘Oh,’ she said, trying not to sound vexed. In her opinion, just the opposite was true. The sooner they were done, the sooner she could put aside the disquieting feelings he raised in her, and restore peace to her mind.

He took a breath. ‘And I must be truthful. After last night, I am somewhat concerned about the way things might proceed this evening.’

‘Did I do something to displease you?’ she said, searching her brain for an answer.

‘No,’ he said hurriedly and touched her chin with a fingertip, tipping her head up to offer a long, slow kiss. When they parted, he spoke again. ‘Perhaps I did not make myself clear this morning. Last night, you were all I could have hoped for. It is obvious that you know how to pleasure me.’

She nodded in agreement. She had taken a portion of the day to search his rooms for some clue to the diamonds. She had found nothing exceptional, other than a collection of rather risqué etchings in the table by the bedside, that might serve as instruction should she need to maintain his interest in her.

‘I am ashamed for ever doubting you,’ he said. ‘Your beauty is unparallelled. Your devotion to me unwavering. And last night? Your touch was heaven. Though I cannot remember what was in our past, I have no trouble imagining our future together.’

‘Then you have no reason for concern,’ she said, trying to empty her mind of anything but the moment. Tempting as it was, she dare not think such things herself. If she stayed, disaster was almost inevitable. But there was something very unnerving about the way he reached to the core of her heart when he spoke.

‘I do,’ he insisted. ‘While you know just what it is that I enjoy, I still cannot remember the details of our life together.’

‘What do you wish to know?’

‘For example, I do not know if you prefer the left side of the bed, or the right.’

‘The left,’ she said automatically. Then she remembered that it would have been better to allow him to choose.

‘Which is where you are now,’ he said, satisfied. ‘Perhaps I do remember, for it feels very natural to have you here.’

He was probably confusing her with someone else who had shared his bed. The thought was strangely annoying. But if he was happy, then what did it matter?

‘And last night,’ he said cautiously. ‘We have done that before, I assume.’

‘Something similar,’ she admitted, not wanting to think how she had gained her knowledge of the male anatomy.

‘It has been some time since I have truly felt myself. You must forgive me if, for any reason, I am not the man I was.’

‘It will not matter,’ she said and then lied through her teeth. ‘You are still my husband.’

‘As your husband, I owe you what you have given to me,’ he said firmly. ‘I am sorry,’ he said with a sad smile, ‘that I cannot remember the details of it.’

The conversation was beginning to worry her. If their bed became a place for talk, and the sharing of secrets, she would soon make a slip that could not be explained away. Better to distract him with her body, as she had last night, and save conversation for breakfast, when she had her wits about her. ‘The past does not matter,’ she said. ‘Only the present. And your happiness.’ She gave him what she hoped was an encouraging kiss and ran a hand down his body to be sure he was ready. Then, she stretched out on her back, legs sprawled, waiting.

He remained, propped on his elbow, watching her. Then he cleared his throat. ‘This is embarrassing to admit. But you will know soon enough, so I had best simply put it out there. I do not remember how to love you.’ He had paused before he said it, sounding almost sincere in his apprehension.

She rolled on to her elbow to stare back at him.

‘You have forgotten how to...’ Was that even a thing that could be forgotten? How was she to describe it to him without resulting to crass gestures and words that no lady should know?