Lady Dearing's Masquerade (31 page)

A bold and shocking idea came to her. “Do you mean—is there something I could do for you? Like what you did at the folly?”

“I’d never ask such a thing!”

“Let me try.
Please.
I want to,” she whispered.

He let out a rough breath, then picked her up and lifted her onto the bed. Together, they removed the rest of his clothing, and she took a moment to drink in the sight of him, beautiful and vulnerable in his arousal.

She reached her hand down and touched him. He let out a deep groan, then lay still, staring up at the top of the bed canopy with a tortured look. She touched him again, savoring the velvet hardness of him, then stroking the length of him. She kissed him again and worked both hands over him, stroking and circling, more muffled groans proving the power of her unpracticed touches. Soon he jerked, crying her name, and filled her hands with his seed.

She watched as he lay for a few moments, eyes closed, face blissfully serene. When his eyes open she smiled down at him.

“Now
I
feel as if I have a new toy.”

He grinned mysteriously. “It is my turn now.”

She lay back, wondering. He gazed at her for a heartbeat before kissing her. Then he trailed kisses down her neck to linger at the hollow of her throat, just long enough for her to yearn to be touched elsewhere. Then he kissed her breasts in turn, causing her to gasp in mouthfuls of pink-scented air. When she could bear it no longer, he shifted and surprised her by kissing her navel. A moment later he moved down the bed. Surely he wasn’t going to? . . .

Then he did. The gauze of his bandages brushed her thighs as he opened her up and kissed her. She flushed and her body arched in protest as she sensed a climax coming; it was too soon.

He lifted his head; she gave out a beseeching moan, and he lowered his mouth to her again. She continued to resist as he held her open, tickling the insides of her thighs with his dark curls, his hot breath on her. Each feathery touch, each deeper kiss brought her higher until she twisted and cried out, caught in an updraft of exquisite pleasure.

She floated for a while, barely aware of Jeremy shifting on the bed to lie beside her again.

“
That
was brazen,” she murmured, when she could speak.

He laughed. “I have been longing to do that—and many other things I’ve only heard about—for months now.”

He put an arm around her again, and his bandages rasped lightly against her skin.

“I had nearly forgotten!” she said contritely. “Do your hands pain you very much?”

“What hands?”

Amusement lurked in his eyes, and something else. Hunger, and a question.

Smiling, she opened to him. Carrying his weight on his elbows, he lowered himself carefully over her. With a soft cry, she lifted her hips, put her arms around him and pulled him in. And he was there, filling her, and it was just what she had yearned for, since the night after his lovemaking in the folly. This closeness. This bond.

She twined her legs around his. He lowered his face to kiss her, withdrew and returned with unnecessary gentleness. She kept time with his slow movements, her hunger building until she could bear it no more. Then, boldly, she moved her hands down to cup taut buttocks and pull him deeper.

He paused, eyes dark with surprise and arousal. Murmuring words of entreaty, she pulled him in for another harder thrust. His breath grew louder, his thrusts more powerful, and she met each one, moaning, no longer in reassurance but out of longing for the new peak building within her.

She closed her eyes. Her womb tightened and she cried out as her body pulsed around him. He let out another groan, and she opened her eyes to see his face contorted with rapture.

They clung together for a moment, then he rolled to one side. He pulled her close and she rested in a sweet nook she found in his shoulder. A tear escaped her eye to splash onto his chest.

“What is it, Livvy?” he whispered, tightening his arm around her. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, yes. It is just that—it was just how I imagined it would be when . . . when I was seventeen. No, even
better
.”

“I’m so glad.” He let out a shuddering sigh. “So do you believe this is real now?”

“Not at all.”

He shifted to look at her, narrowing his eyes.

She gave him an impish grin. “You will just have to prove it to me again in the morning.”

His laughter rumbled through the bedchamber. “Do you truly believe I can wait so long?”

Epilogue

August 1813

The Archbishop concluded a benedictory prayer and dug a bit of ceremonial dirt from the area marked out for the branch hospital’s foundation.

A cheer went up. Jeremy kept a restraining hand on Robbie’s shoulder to keep the scamp from rushing out with his own little spade. A moment later, the Archbishop invited the assembled Governors, benefactors and their families to join in, and Jeremy released Robbie. The boy darted off to the excavation area with the other children.

“Well my friends, it’s a day of triumph for both of you,” said Bromhurst, emerging from the crowd to beam at him and Livvy.

“For all of us,” Jeremy replied quietly, smiling down at his wife.

She had an odd, faraway look as she stared out at the field where their children were happily digging. Aunt Louisa, Tom and Charlotte had joined them, holding little Nicholas’s hands. Although the babe could not walk yet, he seemed to enjoy toddling between his parents in the sunshine. A few feet away the Debenhams kept a close eye on Annabel.

But Jeremy suspected Livvy was picturing what he did: the several hundred children who would be playing on these fields once the commodious new building was ready to house them.

“Lady Dee! Lady Dee! We want you to come dig with us!”

Robbie’s voice came piping over the hum of conversation around them.

“Excuse me, I think I shall join the children,” she said.

“Are you certain you feel up to it?”

“I promise you I’ll only pretend.”

She smiled up at him; he drank in the sight of her bright eyes, her rosy complexion, the lush swell of her belly. She’d awoken bursting with energy, but he couldn’t help worrying that she would overexert herself.

“I’ll go with you, then.”

“Could you stay a bit?” asked Bromhurst. “I’ve something to tell you, and it won’t take but a few minutes.”

So he pressed a kiss to Livvy’s cheek and let her go.

“I never thought things would turn out so well,” said Bromhurst, smiling after her. “But I’ve never been so happy to have been wrong.”

Jeremy returned the smile. He knew his friend harbored lingering regret for his actions of a year ago. Although they’d long since mended the rift, a reminder today felt right.Bromhurst cleared his throat. “I have some good news.”

“Yes?”

“Cranshaw has just told me he is altering his will. Pettleworth and his wife are to receive an annuity sufficient to support them in comfort, but the bulk of Cranshaw’s fortune shall go to the Foundling Hospital.”

“That
is
good news.”

“You and Livvy can take much of the credit.”

Jeremy smiled, recalling how, during the early months of their marriage, she had charmed Cranshaw and the others. There had been a burst of gossip, inevitably, but Cranshaw’s support in the City and the romanticized tales Lady Bromhurst and Lady Debenham had spread of their marriage and Livvy’s heroic behavior during the fire, had ultimately resulted in an increase in donations.

Jeremy’s eyes narrowed as he detected a shadow crossing Livvy’s features. For a moment, her face seemed unusually blank, then she smiled down at Robbie again. Perhaps the sun had gotten into her eyes.

“To think you’ll be seeing your own babe soon!” said Bromhurst. “When was it that dear Livvy expects to be confined?”

“In about two weeks, according to Knighton.”

Livvy seemed perfectly well now, again making a show of digging with the children. Perhaps he was foolish to worry so much about her upcoming confinement.

He watched her, remembering the time when unlooked for joy had stolen up on them, when her courses were late, first by days, then by weeks, and a slight morning queasiness confirmed that she was in the family way.

Dr. Knighton had a glib explanation; marriage to a kinder husband had had a harmonizing effect on Livvy’s constitution. Whether or not he shared Jeremy’s radical opinion or not, the popular accoucheur could not afford to even suggest that Dearing had somehow been incapable of fathering a child.

Whatever the case, Livvy had remained serenely happy throughout her pregnancy, sweetly refusing to follow anything but her own inclination regarding diet and activity, while he had worried incessantly.

Jeremy’s stomach clenched. Livvy had turned his way, and there was an odd expression on her face: part doubt, part excitement. No. It could not be.

“Are you feeling tired?” he asked, hurrying to meet her.

“I think—I am nearly certain my pains have begun!”

“But Knighton said it would not happen for another two weeks!”

“He never claimed his predictions were exact.”

“What is going on here?” Lady Bromhurst asked, hurrying up. “Livvy, have your pains begun?”

“I think so.”

“I knew we should not have come!” he exclaimed. “We should have stayed in Russell Square, within reach of Knighton. It is my fault! I should have—”

Livvy placed a hand on his arm. “Don’t worry, my love. I am sure everything will be well.”

“How can I not worry? What are we to do? It’s a full hour and a half drive back to London from this godforsaken place. Three hours before Knighton could possibly come here!”

“Calm yourself, Jeremy,” ordered Lady Bromhurst, then looked toward her husband. “Bromhurst was in just such a state when our first came, but he can assure you that it took ages. If you leave now you may very well reach London in time for Dr. Knighton to attend Livvy.”

“What? Submit her to the bouncing and swaying of a carriage for all that time?” Visions of having to deliver the baby by the roadside tormented him.

“No, I would rather not go so far,” said Livvy. “Jeremy, I think we should go back to that village we passed-South Houghton, was it?—and see if perhaps a surgeon or a midwife could be summoned.”

Aunt Louisa bustled up to them, Nicholas wrapped around her hip. “What is happening?” she asked excitedly. “Has Livvy’s time come?”

“Yes, we think so. We are going back to South Houghton now.”

“Well, what are you gaping and standing about for? Get Livvy to the carriage, and don’t worry about the children. We will take care of them.”

Pains seized Livvy twice before they reached the village. Jeremy was relieved to find the Red Lion a clean and comfortable hostelry, and the landlords more than willing to dispatch stable boys to the surgeon and midwife. Just after he’d seated Livvy in a chair in the best chamber, more carriages were heard below. Minutes later, in burst his aunt, Charlotte, Lady Bromhurst and Lady Debenham, all chattering excitedly. He did not know whether to be annoyed or relieved.

“Is there anything you need, Livvy?” Lady Debenham asked, while the other ladies inspected the room.

“I—oh . . .” Livvy broke off, gripping the arms of the chair.

They all watched with bated breath until she relaxed again.

“A fierce one, was it?” asked Lady Bromhurst. “You should not worry, dear. It is a sign things will go quickly.”

“Quickly! There is no one here—not Knighton, not that blasted surgeon, nor even the midwife!” he protested.

“Jeremy dearest,” said his aunt sternly. “Since you persist in frightening Livvy, we must ask you to leave!”

He bowed his head, appalled that he might have made things worse with his worries. But if he left, and something terrible happened . . . this might be his last chance to see Livvy.

Her cheerful voice penetrated his misery.

“No, I want Jeremy
here
,” she insisted to the other ladies.

He glanced down to see her gazing up at him with loving concern, as if
he
were the one suffering those horrible pangs.

After a spirited exchange between Livvy and his aunt, Jeremy was permitted to stay, though the ladies’ following reminiscences of their respective ordeals made him not a whit more comfortable. But Livvy seemed glad they were here.

A few minutes later, she moaned, her face contorting with pain.

“Is there nothing that can slow this?” he begged.

The ladies turned to look at him as if he were demented.

Minutes later, mercifully, the landlady entered, followed by another woman of middle age and tidy appearance.

“Dr. Perry was not at home, m’lady,” she said. “This is Mrs. Hodge.”

Jeremy eyed the midwife dubiously. She seemed competent and respectable, but still . . . what if something went terribly wrong? Then he noticed Livvy smiling at the woman, and decided it was no use saying anything. Mrs. Hodge seemed to be their only hope.

Lady Debenham and Lady Bromhurst excused themselves a moment later, then Mrs. Hodge asked him to help Livvy onto the bed so she could check the progress of her labor. Having done so, and given Livvy a kiss on the forehead, he went to a corner of the room away from his aunt and Charlotte, feeling lumpish, morose and completely useless.

Livvy submitted to Mrs. Hodge’s gentle examination, uneasily aware of Jeremy brooding in the corner. He worried so much; perhaps memories of his tiny daughter’s birth made it difficult for him to believe in a happy outcome. She wished there was a way she could reassure him.

Though more dreadful than anything she could have imagined, her pains felt natural. Purposeful.

“It won’t be long now, my lady,” said Mrs. Hodge. “Are you quite comfortable?”

“I should like to sit up,” she said.

“Let me plump your pillows,” said Charlotte, rushing up to help her. “If only we had a proper birthing bed for you. I so wish you could have used the one where Nicholas was born!”

“It was so kind of you to offer, Charlotte.”

“Well, this bed should do,” said Mrs. Hodge. “Most of my mothers get through the business in my chair, but I did not think you would fancy it, being Quality.”