Julia Justiss - The Regency Season - Forbidden Pleasures - The Rake to Rescue Her / The Rake to Reveal Her

Then there was that odd ritual at the mirror, during which, she fought her way from distress back to calm.

Alone.

So you had no one , the comment came back to him—a statement she’d neither affirmed nor denied. He recalled Lady Randolph’s description of how she’d been isolated from all her former friends.

Isolated, abused—but defiant.

Pity and admiration filled him in equal measure. And despite the danger of letting her touch his emotions, he couldn’t beat back the warmth he’d felt at seeing her glow of contentment when she’d awakened in his arms. Couldn’t help the need building within him to penetrate the impassive mask and bring that expression to her face again, in the full light of day.

He couldn’t give her back the eight years she’d lost, erase the suffering she’d endured, or resurrect the innocent, carefree girl she’d once been. But before they parted, he vowed to do whatever he could to convince her she was truly free to take up all the activities she’d been denied—painting, reading, music—and embrace life fully.

As he thought of that future, a small voice deep within whispered that she must share that new life with him .

Ruthlessly, he silenced it.

He was no longer a starry-eyed young man, confident that the future would arrange itself as he wished. In the dangerous matter of Diana, he would move one cautious step at a time, holding the reins on his feelings with as tight a grip as he could manage.

He’d need that knack immediately, for it was past time for him to return to Jane’s. Though he had the run of his sister’s house and might come and go as he pleased, his absence for an entire day would not have gone unnoticed. The all-too-observant Jane would be curious where he’d been, and he’d have to manufacture an unreadable expression to prevent her from teasing out of him that he was seeing Diana again.

The mere thought of the storm of scolding and possible hysterics that admission would unleash made him shudder.

It would be more prudent to time his return for when his sister was occupied with other matters. Though he did appreciate her genuine concern for his welfare, the matter of Diana was too complicated—and Jane’s animosity towards Diana too deep—to be quickly and easily explained.

He hadn’t yet brought Jane a hostess gift. Perhaps he’d stop by the jewellers and pick up a trinket to surprise her—and hopefully distract her from any pointed questioning over the curious absences of her brother.

Chapter Ten

Accordingly, an hour later, after a brief stop to bathe and change at the Crescent, Alastair was strolling down Bond Street, bound for the jeweller recommended by his sister’s butler. Jane loved flowers; an intricate silver vase or epergne for her table should delight her enough to give him a few days’ grace from scrutiny.

Just as he turned the corner, a woman exited the shop. The black cape that swathed her, hiding her face under the overhanging hood, instantly recalled Diana and the delights they had recently shared. He was smiling at the memory when, an instant later, something about the retreating figure made him realise the woman was, in fact, Diana.

A shockingly intense gladness filling him, Alastair set off after her. But by the time he reached the corner, the lady had disappeared. With a disappointed sigh, he turned back towards the shop.

Just as well he’d missed her. Anything he said or did with her on a public street would set tongues wagging. Though he didn’t think he was known to any of the pedestrians now passing by him, he’d not noticed any acquaintances in the park the first day he met Diana, either, and word of that encounter had begun circulating immediately.

Besides, he’d rather savour seeing her tonight, when he could undress her, caress by caress. Warmed by that thought, he entered the jeweller’s establishment.

Taking one look at him, the junior clerk who greeted him sent at once for the owner. Though he tried to extinguish his curiosity, after that gentleman had shown him several fine silver pieces, one of which he selected for his sister, he couldn’t help asking casually whether the lady who’d just left the shop had purchased something similar, so beautifully wrought were the vases.

‘I’m afraid she was selling, rather than buying,’ the owner replied with a sigh—before his eyes lit. ‘I bought from her a particularly nice pearl necklace. Truly, the piece is so fine, I don’t think I’ll have it for long. A vase is a charming gift, but ladies often prefer a more...personal item. Might your sister be interested in such a necklace?’

Jane might not, but Alastair certainly was. ‘Please, do show it to me,’ he replied, his curiosity tweaked even further.

Why would Diana be selling jewellery? Whatever the reason, he knew at once he would buy the necklace back.

Beaming, the jeweller disappeared, returning a moment later with a long double-twisted strand of perfectly matched pearls.

For a moment, shock displaced curiosity, as Alastair recognised the necklace. One of the few mementos Diana had of her mother, who’d died giving her birth, the pearls had been a gift to her from her father on her sixteenth birthday. She’d mentioned several times how special it was to her. He couldn’t imagine why she would part with it.

Glad he’d encountered the jeweller before the piece had been shown to some other customer, he said, ‘You are right. It’s exquisite. I shall take that, too.’

Purchases completed, he picked up the wrapped parcel containing the vase and tucked the velvet case with the pearls in his pocket. He’d give Jane the vase just before guests arrived for dinner, leaving them only a short time for conversation, then slip away when her party left for the theatre.

Already impatient to see Diana again, he was now even more eager for the day to fade into evening. He’d present her with the pearls immediately—and try to discover what circumstance could possibly have induced her to part with something that held such dear memories of her long-dead mother.

* * *

Alastair arrived at the rendezvous even earlier than the previous nights, then paced the parlour until Diana arrived. Though he’d intended to return the pearls to her immediately, the intensity of the kiss she gave him in greeting fired his simmering desire at once to irresistible need. Almost ravenous enough to take her right then and there, he restrained himself, barely, hurrying her to the bedchamber moments after she stepped in the door.

She seemed as ravenous as he was, kissing him urgently while she tugged at his neckcloth and made short work of the buttons of his trouser flap. Pushing him back to sit on the bed, she lifted her skirts and straddled him, guided him deep and rocked against him, driving them both to their peak within moments.

The next loving was nearly as swift, clothing scattered as it was removed in haste. Then after another, languid cherishing they both drifted into the sleep of the satiated.

* * *

Awaking sometime later with Diana tucked in his arms, Alastair smiled as he surveyed the chamber: candles burned low in their sconces, her gown tossed on the back of a chair, her stockings on the bedside table, his neckcloth flung into a corner. Sated for now, he knew that after they consumed the cold collation he’d had set out for them, he’d want her again.

He couldn’t seem to get enough of her. Underlying desire, this odd sense of impending loss throbbed in his head like a ticking clock, as if the hours they had together would be limited this time, as they had been before, by some malevolent fate.

Nonsense, he told himself, shaking off the feeling. Eight years ago, they had both been young, still susceptible to the demands of Society and dependent upon others for their support. With him the master of his own estate, she a widow, they now controlled their own destinies, alone and together.