Lady Harriet's Unusual Reward (10 page)

He captured her lips this time, sliding them slowly across hers, using his tongue to probe for access to her mouth. She opened to him, welcoming the invasion of his tongue and the clash of his teeth against hers. She pushed her hands into his curls and allowed him to carry her away on the bliss of the togetherness they found whenever they let their lips meet. All too soon he was pulling away.

She leaned against him, catching her own breath, wondering at what point since she had met Lord Stephen Charville had the perfectly competent Lady Harriet Weatherby’s brains turned to pudding? Why was it that when she saw him she became weak at the knees and unable to think about anything but his kisses and the feel of his strong hands on her back and in her hair? Perhaps she had been too harsh on William. Falling in love made one unable to think rationally and only able to react with one’s body. No wonder he had sought out Mary at every opportunity.

Stephen pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “We have to stop,” he said, his own breath slightly ragged. “If not, I shall ruin you.” He moved his mouth back to her ear. “And yes, Harriet. It is hard—as stone and it is your doing, my beautiful innocent bride to be. Now, come let us go and sort out your brother and the other bride-to-be in this household.”

****

William was beginning to feel a little uneasy. He had butterflies in his belly and it had nothing to do with Mary sitting beside him, her head on his shoulder as she dozed, her hand lying protectively over her tummy. He still could not see anything.

He had plenty of money but the driver they had hired had given him a couple of funny looks when he had said he had wanted to go to Scotland. The driver had said it would cost to change horses in coaching inns and tonight was not looking good for driving through the night. William had accepted they would have to spend tonight in an inn. So Scotland was two days away. What did it matter? They would still be married quicker than if they waited the week and Charville would still be pleased.

When the driver had said he was not sure, William had pulled out his purse and asked how much for the whole journey up front. That had made the difference. The driver had calculated it, William had managed to get the driver to reduce the amount by a few shillings and they had both been happy with the result and William and Mary still had plenty of coins for inns and horses and to pay the blacksmith at Gretna Green.

But now they were out of the hustle and bustle of the city, he was no longer so sure of himself. Yes, he was an earl and grown up. But he had never been truly on his own. He had Mary of course. But he understood enough to know that Mary was like him and neither he nor Mary was clever and people could take advantage of him. What if the driver had already taken advantage of him?

He looked at his betrothed and at her belly. A tear welled up under his lash and he swiped it away. Damned tears. Grown men didn’t cry. But what if he could not look after them? What if he failed? He knew people in the
ton
thought he should be in some institution for imbeciles. What if he and Mary became too much for Harriet and Stephen when they had a family of their own? Stephen did not know but that was what Cavanaugh had said before he had insulted Mary at the garden party. And William had been too scared to talk to Stephen about it.

He pressed his nose against Mary’s head, breathing in the smell of her freshly washed hair as his tears dripped onto it. He had to make this work. For Mary as much as for himself.

****

“Should we open the door?” Harriet asked as they stood outside Mary’s bedchamber.

“Christ, Harriet, the time for being prim and proper is over.” Stephen felt bad about his blasphemy but he was ready to wring William’s neck. “Oldbeck, are you in there?” he hollered through the door.

Harriet raised both her eyebrows, her hands on her hips as she glared at him. He had a feeling this was going to be the face he got whenever he was in trouble.

“Try the handle. Surely they would lock the door if they were doing anything untoward.”

Stephen gave her a dubious look.

“He did impregnate her in a hayloft if you remember.”

Harriet sighed. “Really, my lord. Do you have to be so… so…”

“Honest?”

“I was reaching for vulgar, but honest will do.”

Stephen reached for the door handle and turned. He opened the door, his eyes half shut, dreading what he might see, but the bed was made and the room appeared to be empty.

A sigh behind him made him smile at his companion’s innocence.

“My darling, there are other places than the bed to make love. Besides, if they are not here, then where?”

“Oh!”

“Quite.”

He moved into the room, which was obviously completely empty. He checked behind the door of the dressing room—also empty. Though had they been there, he suspected he would have heard something. Having slept in a room near William for the better part of a week, Stephen knew that the earl snored like a coach and six crossing a wooden bridge at speed.

“Come, let’s search the house.”

It did not take long to search the townhouse with all the servants looking too. There were not many places that two adults could hide. When they reached the library, Harriet stared at the envelope on the desk. In a scrawled childish script was her name. She clutched at Stephen’s wrist.

“Oh no, what has he done?”

“Now Harriet, do not panic until you have read it.”

She picked up the letter opener and cracked the seal, pulling out the sheet of vellum.

Dear Harriet and Stefen

I no you want Mary and I to be marryd as quiclie as possible. So we have
hyre
hired a coach and gone to Skotland. I no it will tayke a day or too to get theyre but it is still
qu
faster than waiting a weak. Stefen said he coold not wait for us to be wedd.

Pleese do not be angry. It will be a grate advenchure just like Robinsin Krooso.

Yours
afect
affektioniteltly
William, Earl of Oldbeck

Your brother

(I love you Harriet. And Stefen, please tayke good cayre of Harriet until we get home).

Harriet’s hand covered her mouth and she sank against Stephen’s body as the hand holding the letter trembled.

“It will be all right,” he said, his mind whirring. How long had they been gone, how long would it take to catch up to them and convince them to return to London? Could he convince Harriet to stay here? Of course he couldn’t. He would have a better chance of convincing the tide on the Thames not to come in.

“How will it be all right, Stephen? He thinks Scotland is a couple of day’s journey away. He thinks Robinson Crusoe is a great adventure. In the last bit of the story that you read to him the idiotic young man had been captured by pirates.”

“They cannot have much of a head start. I shall get Theo’s best coach and team. William will have a hired coach and horses. They shall be a team of old nags ready for the knacker’s yard. Theo is a snob when it comes to his cattle. We shall catch them in no time.”

“Fine. You go to Halimead House and arrange for the coach. I shall send a servant to your house for a valise of clothes for you and get a maid to pack clothes for me. I shall arrange for a picnic hamper of food for us. What about Phoebe?”

“Miss Paton can take her round to Halimead house after her lessons. She can stay with Theo and Lizzie,” said Stephen. He bent and pressed a quick kiss to her lips. “I should forbid you to go, but I suspect I would be wasting my breath.”

“You would. Besides, Mary may need a woman there.”

“Possibly, though I doubt she is in danger from William.”

“No, but can he protect her properly?”

Stephen considered it, then nodded. “I think he would die trying. Come, let us make haste before that theory is put to the test.”

****

“Guvnor!”

William looked around at the coach driver who was scratching his chin and looking a little concerned. “Yes.”

“I don’t mean to butt in nor nothing, but may I suggest that you ask the innkeeper for a private room for you and your lady to dine in. She seems like quite a finely dressed young lady and I don’t believe the taproom is the place for her. She got some funny looks at lunchtime.”

“Oh. A private room.”

“Yeah. They’ll have a few in here. It’s a good inn. I use it regular, like. I also suggest you ask for adjoining rooms. You have no chaperone and no ring. May I suggest you use your surname and say you are Mister and Missus? Pretend to be married, like. I assume you’re eloping since we’re going to Scotland.”

William smiled. This driver was very clever. He nodded.

“Oh we are. I love her very much. We were to marry in London but Scotland is quicker. I even have the special licence right here.” He tapped his coat.

“You don’t need a special licence in Scotland, Guvnor.”

“Oh.” Well the trip to see the grumpy old Archbishop had been a bit of a waste, had it not? Never mind. Stephen had got his special licence too.

But he would do as the driver had said. He would tell the innkeeper they were Mr and Mrs Weatherby and he would ask for a private room in which to dine. Harriet would be proud when he told her about it. Again that gnawing feeling came back. An uneasiness. He missed his sister already. She annoyed him when she told him what to do and nagged him not to use rude words in front of ladies, but she really was a good egg when all things were added up.

Chapter Thirteen

Harriet sat up straight as Stephen poked his head back in the carriage door. Even in the darkness she could see the shake of his head.

“They have not seen them, not that they are willing to say at least, but I believe them.”

Harriet could feel the now familiar prickle of tears at the back of her eyes. Fear warred with the sense that William had been brought up well enough to be able to cope in most circumstances. And Mary should be wise enough, should she not?

“What now?” she asked, knowing the answer full well.

“There is no moon and it is beginning to drizzle. We cannot take a chance of hurting the horses or damaging the carriage. I will not put men or you in danger. William has money. He should have been able to afford a room at an inn.”

“As long as he has not been set upon by highwaymen,” she said.

“Aye, as long as that has not happened. Harriet, they only have one room left. I told them we shall take it. I told them we were Mr and Mrs Charville.”

His hand was reaching for hers in the dark, fumbling for her acquiescence and for her to understand their predicament. She turned over her gloved hand, clasping her fingers around his.

“What do a few days matter? There is no one to see us and even if there are, we have our special licence.”

“I have no reputation with which to be concerned and as far as I am concerned, we shall be wed by this time next week. Therefore it is in your hands. I shall sleep in the servants’ quarters if you say no, my love.”

“I want you to share my room.”

“As you wish.”

As he helped her climb down from the carriage, a knot formed in her belly. Excitement and nervousness coiled into each other. Would he ruin her this evening? Was this the night she would become a proper woman with all the knowledge of which Elizabeth had talked. It had sounded so decadent and wonderful and intimate.

Stephen organised the bags and led her into the inn. By the time she saw this courtyard again, she would no longer be an innocent lady. She snuggled deeper into her pelisse and quickened her step.

****

“Is it not to your liking?” Stephen asked as Harriet pushed the beef around her plate absentmindedly. She was only vaguely aware that he had spoken.

“Sorry? Oh I apologise. I really am not particularly hungry.”

He scowled at her plate and she looked at the food piled high. It really was not the nicest inn she had ever stayed in and the food was edible at best.

“I do not want you becoming ill, Harriet.”

“No, I suppose you do not. That would never do,” she said, moving some peas to join the piece of beef she had just moved. She was sure you could saddle a horse with the meat it was so tough.

Stephen stood and walked a few paces away from the small table in their bedchamber. He had arranged for supper to be brought to them because of the late hour and she really did appreciate it. But now she was tired and out of sorts and worried about William and Mary.

“They shall be fine,” he said eventually.

“You do not know that.”

“Harriet, if two imbeciles had been set upon by robbers on the Great North Road, you can bet your life that the story would have reached every inn from London to Gretna Green.”

Harriet gasped. Stephen had never called William an imbecile, far less Mary. He had always been too much of a gentleman.

“Does William know you call him an imbecile behind his back?”

“No, because I do not. I never have. But that would be the story that would have carried far and wide. We would be aware of it. My love, you know that anyone who meets William knows that he is not, well, I do not need to spell it out. And Mary hardly comes across as a bluestocking. They may be easy pickings but they would also be easy to spot. Which would mean any ill that had befallen them would have quickly travelled. I apologise. Please do not be angry with me. I care for William and Mary and want to see them safe as much as you do.”

And he did. Harriet knew that he did. The signs were obvious in the creases around his eyes and mouth and in the way he had barked instructions at the driver. And yes, even in the way he had just lost his temper with her.

She walked towards him and placed her arms around his waist. And Stephen enveloped her in his embrace.

“Are we going to make love now?” she asked, breathing in the spicy scent of him, as she moved her cheek over the silk of his waistcoat.

Stephen pulled away slightly and frowned down at her. “No, my love. We share a bed tonight because there is no choice and your reputation will be damaged if we are caught but I shall not take your innocence. Not until our wedding night.”

“But you said this morning if I touched you, you would… You talk of pre-empting our wedding vows. You suggest that you would like to… tup me.”

“Those are just words borne of frustration. My body may want to but it is not right.”

“You have had other women… since Sarah.”

“Actually, no, I have not.”

“I thought men always had mistresses and courtesans.”

“Most do but not me.”

“I see. Well… I do not see, but there my argument runs out. I can hardly be jealous when you have not had other women.”

“I suppose not.”

She moved away from him, walking towards the dressing table, pulling pins from her hair.

“And you are able to…”

“Yes.”

“It is just that Elizabeth said…”

“Elizabeth says more than her prayers. Do you need a maid?”

“Not if you undo the buttons at the back of my gown and the laces of my stays. Can you do that?”

“You would not be the first lady I have undressed.”

“I am not sure whether to be relieved or dismayed at that information.”

Harriet was not sure that this was the kind of intimacy she wanted with Stephen. He was now trying to haul off one of his boots. She turned, grabbed the heel of the offending item and tugged. They were well made and snug. It took a few hard yanks until the boot began to slide off over his heel.

She adjusted her stance in time to stop herself from falling on her derriere. Then she wiggled her fingers to indicate he should lift his other foot. In another few minutes he was standing in his stocking feet slowly tweaking the buttons of her gown loose.

She held her breath as he pushed the fabric of her carriage gown off her shoulders. Then she stepped out of the garment and laid it over the chair. When she straightened, she was more aware of Stephen than she had been of him at any other time this day. His hot breath on her neck as he swept her hair forwards over her shoulder again, the slight scrape of a fingernail as he caught up the ribbon, the heat of his body, the smell of his shaving soap.

“It is knotted. Wait a moment. Ah there.” Her stays loosened and Harriet hauled in a welcome breath as the small bones released her ribcage.

“Better?” he said, his fingers massaging her side, under her arms and round underneath her breasts.

“Much,” she said, almost sinking back against him. Suddenly he crossed his hands in front of her, drawing her fully against him, then kissed her on the cheek.

“You are far too tempting, Lady Harriet Weatherby.”

“Soon-to-be Lady Stephen Charville.”

“But not yet.”

“As near as makes no difference.”

“It makes a difference to me.”

“Should it not be me who is all missish about this?”

“I am not being missish. I am being a gentleman. Now go into that dressing room and get on your nightrail and I… bloody hell.”

“What?”

“I do not even own a night shirt. I sleep in the nude.”

“Well then, it looks as though I shall at least see your naked form before our wedding night.” An ache settled between her legs at the mere thought. Was he muscular like the farm workers when they took off their shirts? Did he have hair on his chest?

“I shall wear my shirt. It is quite long enough.”

And I shall wear my shift. I never travel with a nightrail. It is easier to get dressed if there is an emergency in the night if one is simply wearing a shift.”

“Really?” The look of horror on his face made her laugh.

“It is practical. I thought men liked practical.”

“We do. But tonight it is not practical.”

She undid her petticoats and stepped out of them, turning to him and smiling.

“It looks as if we are both ready to retire then.” She picked up a ribbon and tied her hair loosely at the nape of her neck, then walked over to the bed. “Is it all right if I take this side?” she asked hesitantly.

He moved to the other side, sat and waved a hand over his shoulder as he bent to remove his stocking. She climbed in and tried to look uninterested as he unbuttoned the fall of his breeches.

“Devil take it,” he muttered as he straightened, scowling at the fire. He walked over to it and began to bank it for the night. Harriet’s gaze roved up his strong, hair-covered calves, then his thighs, which she had so admired in breeches as they had caressed the sides of his horse only yesterday. His shirt covered his modesty but she wondered how far up the hairs travelled.

“Are you enjoying the view of my arse, my lady?” he grumbled as he set the fireguard in place.

Harriet pursed her lips, trying to look sombre and failing miserably. “I am sure I do not know what you mean, my lord. And I would appreciate if you would moderate your language in front of me.”

“Really?” He walked around the room, snuffing out all the candles but the one at his side of the bed. “And this from the young lady who asked me to tup her in the library earlier this week. Tup is such a crude word, would you not agree? Was it not you who chastised your brother for using that very word when we first met?”

“That was different.”

“In what way?”

“It just is. We were not in private then. And now I have finished with this conversation, my lord. Good night.”

As she turned away from him to lie on her right side, she felt the other side of the mattress depress. Good lord, they were in bed together, like man and wife. Just his shirt and her shift separating their naked bodies. Why could she not breathe? She could not hold her breath all night.

When he placed his hand on her bare arm and pressed his wet lips to her shoulder, she let out her breath on a sigh.

“Do not go to sleep when you are vexed with me. For the most part I was teasing.”

She rolled onto her back and into his arms.

“I am only slightly vexed with you. I am more vexed with myself for being foolish enough to think that you were interested in me over and above the honourable promise you made me when I saved Phoebe. That you can wait and you were only teasing about not being able to wait shows me how truly innocent and naïve I am. I really was foolish enough to believe that you burned with passion for me as it states in all those lurid novels that I read.” She let out a little self-deprecating laugh.

“I suspect you should be more vexed with me than you are for I have not explained myself well. I was not teasing when I said I want you. I really do burn for you, Harriet, even if I would not quite put it like that. It is such an over-dramatic phrase. I was teasing when I said I would take you though. I will not allow myself to have you even though I want you very much and tonight, lying so close and not being able to make you mine in every sense of the word shall be pure torture.”

“Then have me.”

“No. Harriet, until I put that ring on your finger, you must have the option of changing your mind. If I ruin you, you have no option but to marry me.”

“I shall not change my mind. It was I who asked you to marry me.”

“It matters not. You are the one who cannot go back once the deed is done.”

“You are a very stubborn man, Lord Stephen Charville.”

“And you are a very stubborn woman. We shall have an interesting marriage.”

He pressed his lips to hers and she opened immediately, eliciting a deep groan from the back of his throat as he moved slightly atop her. Stephen was in no hurry and the passion he exuded was leisurely as he massaged her lips slowly, dipping his tongue in and out of her mouth, tasting, tickling, licking, rubbing. Harriet moved her hands slowly up and down his spine, not daring to explore further, not wanting to remind him of his promise not to ruin her. If he did remember, he may stop kissing her.

One side of his muscled chest pressed against one of her soft breasts, his thigh against one of hers. Eventually he withdrew his mouth and smiled. His gaze was hooded with lust and he trailed the fingertips of one hand down her side, ticklish yet sensual.

“Just because I refuse to ruin you does not mean I cannot show you pleasure, my beautiful bride-to-be. I may be fit for Bedlam by the end of tonight but at least you will know the pinnacle of ecstasy.”

“I do not quite understand…”

“Do you have another shift with you?”

“Yes. One for tomorrow. Why?” She gasped as he moved under the sheet and caught one of her nipples in his mouth through the thin cotton of her undergarment. In seconds the material was damp with his saliva. “Oh Stephen.”