Manor of Pleasure: An Erotic Historical Romance (11 page)

"So we were both foolish," Rebecca said softly. "We shall not speak of it again."

They each sampled their glass of wine and turned their attention to the plates before them.

Rebecca was very pleased. She hadn't realized the size of her appetite until the smell of the roasted chicken had wafted its way up to her nose. The tender breast melted in her mouth and the poulette sauce was the perfect complement.

She looked up at Desmond, saying, "Mrs. Pike has outdone herself. This is marvelous."

Desmond nodded in agreement. He added, "Oh ye of little faith. You suggested we were to starve." He smiled at her triumphantly.

Rebecca laughed. "We would have starved with the menu you had proposed."

"Oh, you're still on the menu, Rebecca," Desmond replied. He wiped the corners of his mouth and leaned forward over his plate. "I hope you don't think otherwise."

Several seconds passed before Rebecca answered. "My, you have a rather large appetite, Desmond," she responded. "Is there no satisfying you?" Rebecca took a sip of her wine and looked at him over the rim of her glass. Desmond smiled at her brazenly but said nothing. They continued to dine until their plates were empty.

Over the course of their meal, they decided that a four-week sojourn on the continent would serve them well as their honeymoon. Rebecca was partial to Italy, specifically Florence and Rome, while Desmond's tastes veered further south to the isles of Greece.

Over the fruit plate, he recounted the many benefits of secluded beaches, white silky sands and azure waters.

Privately, he longed to see the length of her lying on those sands, her skin drenched with the waters of the warm Aegean Sea. He would persuade her.

Desmond set down his knife and fork. "Are you quite done, darling?" he asked her pleasantly.

"Yes, thank you, Desmond," she answered, "Positively stuffed."

"Then may I suggest that we retire to my room for dessert?" Desmond rose from the table.

Rebecca dabbed at her mouth with her napkin and left it folded by the side of her plate.

Desmond pulled out her chair for her. She thanked him and made her way to the staircase. She looked behind her quickly and spied him smiling like a libertine.

She stopped at the foot of the stairs and leaned against the newel post, her hands at her back.

He came to her and put his arms around her waist. He kissed her lips, her cheek, and the side of her neck.

She laughed. "What is it?" he whispered against her throat. She draped her arms about his neck.

"I was just thinking about the first time we met," she said softly, smiling to herself.

"What about it?" Desmond murmured in her ear.

"You feared my parents were going to push me away from you," she said. "Yet here we are.”

They don't want me here with you and you're ready to carry me off to your bedroom. It is comical, isn't it?" She looked at him, her eyes twinkling.

Desmond stopped and looked at her. "You're comical, yes." They were both smiling as they kissed each other. The kiss deepened and Desmond pressed her against him. He gathered her in his arms and carried her up the stairs.

They had only fifteen minutes and they would make the most of it.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Lady Garway sat stiffly at the desk in the library as she waited for the others to arrive for dinner.

Her aristocratic bearing belied her Welsh roots. She had become the title that her dowry had made attainable for her; and, but for her accent, no one would have suspected her a born-commoner.

She was resplendent this evening, and there was no hint of the rough-hewn heritage that her daughter, Rebecca, so often derided.

The irony was – and it was clear – that Rebecca's stately beauty and poise came directly from her mother. And now, Lady Garway feared Rebecca had also inherited the hot-blooded boldness that had made her grandfather one of the wealthiest men in Wales. While that temperament may have served his purposes, its application in Rebecca's circumstances could prove to have quite the opposite effect.

Lady Garway rose from the desk. She had no heart to finish her letter to Owen. She had related to him the excitement of the wedding preparations and she had written of her concerns for Owen in these early weeks of his wife's pregnancy, but Rebecca's current tactic preoccupied her, and she could think of nothing else.

Rebecca had not yet returned home, and the dinner hour was almost upon them. She suspected that Rebecca was with him in a passionate rendezvous that they had arranged in clandestine fashion.

Lady Garway could appreciate very well that the alliance between Rebecca and Desmond was the best possible outcome for the family. However, that consideration, although substantial, should not outweigh all others.

It was uncanny to her that Rebecca should persist in this conduct when she had already brought the family to dishonor and ridicule with the Sir Isaac affair.

Abbott entered the library and Lady Garway looked to him. "The Countess of Delafield has arrived, ma'am," he announced. "Shall I show her into the drawing room, ma'am?"

"Yes, of course, Abbott, thank you. I will be there in a few minutes."

Lady Garway collected her thoughts and sorted her feelings. With a grand sigh, she headed towards the hallway. Everything, she had told herself, would soon settle to its rightful place, but things had not gone that way at all. Owen's indiscriminate choice of a foreign-born wife had been the first omen. And this affair between Desmond and Rebecca was yet another sign that things would never be the same again.

Lady Garway entered the drawing room, greeting the Countess with a polite apology. They exchanged pleasantries about the weather and the wedding plans.

Lord Garway soon joined them, and it wasn't long before the Countess commented on the absence of her two granddaughters.

"Louisa should be here shortly," Lady Garway replied. "As for Rebecca, who knows? She went riding this afternoon and, so far, hasn't returned." Lady Garway's mouth was set in a firm and unmoving line.

"Why do I sense that the issue here amounts to more than simply being late for dinner?" The Countess looked down the bridge of her nose to her daughter-in-law.

"I think she may be with Desmond," Lady Garway answered her. Her tone was veiled with displeasure.

"And what of it? The last I heard they were still affianced,” replied the elder countess. "If you ask me, everything is as it should be."

Abbott entered the drawing room, announcing the arrival of Mrs. Baines.

"Good evening, everyone. I'm sorry I'm late," Mrs. Baines said as she spread her smile among the group. "So Desmond is not here. I thought he might be."

"Have you no inkling of where he might be?" Lord Garway asked hopefully. "Perhaps working late?"

"Naturally, that was the first place I checked," Mrs. Baines nodded in Lord Garway's direction. "The office was closed. I'm certain he'll turn up. I've never known Desmond to completely disregard the hour without good reason." She sat down on the settee next to the Countess.

Lady Louisa chose that moment to enter the room and it was a fortunate distraction from Lord Garway's point of view. She greeted everyone cheerily and seemed eager to give an account of her afternoon. She had taken to assisting Colonel William Snider with his daily errands, Colonel William having lost the use of his right arm in battle.

As Lord Garway understood the arrangement, Colonel William had agreed to his daughter's assistance, provided he paid her a regular stipend.

According to Lady Garway, Colonel William was very clear this was to be a purely platonic enterprise, hence his invitation that Louisa be properly compensated for valuable services rendered.

The premise was unusual for a woman of Louisa's rank and social station, but Lady Louisa was a hard worker and she had been well-trained as a nurse's attendant.

All in all, Lord Garway was happy to see his daughter preoccupied in a pastime that she enjoyed with a gentleman employer whom he liked and respected.

His mother had another view. She was quick to caution her son and his wife on the dimmer prospects of this situation. "Are you quite sure this is an advisable position for Louisa?" She lowered her voice and continued, "She could very well turn out to be his wife, tied to a half-man for the rest of her life."

"Mother, Colonel William can hardly be classified as an half-man. He is a hero and nothing less," Lord Garway declared. "In any event, I'm assured that he has no interest in her that way."

"And so it begins," she replied smugly.

"Mother, please," he replied quickly. He smiled at her and sipped on his aperitif.

The Countess pursed her lips and smoothed her skirt.

The dinner bell sounded. Lady Garway hung back to speak to her husband and allowed the others to precede her into the dining room. She grabbed his arm. "It is no longer a matter for speculation. Rebecca is with Desmond," Lady Garway stated to her husband in hushed tones.

Lord Garway looked back at her blankly. "Evelyn, really, what did you expect? You created this situation when you imposed an unforgiving moratorium on their affection for one another. Is it any wonder that she's run off to see him?"

He raised his eyebrows towards her and said nothing further. He proceeded to the dining room and she followed in a huff. Her consternation was thinly disguised.

After everyone was seated, Abbott handed a note to His Lordship. Lord Garway, surprised, opened the note quickly. With a straight face, he addressed the table: "It appears that Rebecca and Desmond will not be joining us this evening after all. Rebecca accepted his invitation to dine with him at Clayton House tonight. They send their regrets." He placed the note beside his cutlery.

Lady Garway reached over and grabbed the note from its resting place near her husband. She read it quickly and turned to Mrs. Baines.

"Did you have any role in this?" she asked her pointedly, her words bound with anger.

Mrs. Baines turned to face her squarely. "Of course not, Lady Garway. I am as surprised as you are." Mrs. Baines looked away as she paused to consider this development. Desmond had placed her in a very awkward position.

"Now what do you have to say, John?" Lady Garway stared at him with fire in her eyes. Her husband returned her stare with a forbearance that gave no ground.

"You know how I feel, Evelyn, and now is not the time to discuss it. Please."

The Countess chimed in. "Really, I fail to see the strife in this. They are both respectable, mature adults. I quite admire them both." She looked at her son and then to his wife. "Rebecca could not have made a finer match if she had been engaged to a Royal. If anyone deserves the benefit of any doubt, it would be Desmond."

"Thank you, Madam," Mrs. Baines uttered finally. "We can agree on that score."

Lady Garway could no longer restrain herself. "Well, then. It will surprise you both to know that Rebecca and Desmond have already crossed that line," she announced sorely. "In this very house."

Lord Garway shook his head gravely. "Please, Evelyn," he said softly to her.

Lady Louisa, who had watched the exchange eagerly, set down her wineglass and said brightly, "Mother, be that as it may, Rebecca has done far worse than this. At least on this occasion, she is to be married."

The other four turned to her, each face bearing the same expression of absolute appall.

"Thank you, Louisa," Lady Garway said to her harshly. "You have said quite enough."

The room fell mute until the Countess sensed an obligation upon her to breach the awkward moment.

"Now, now. Let us all endeavor to maintain a reasonable and proper perspective. Perhaps they have acted precipitously, but they are to be married in less than a fortnight."

Mrs. Baines took a long
draft from her wine glass. There was much that she could say in this situation with the knowledge that Desmond had imparted to her about Rebecca's past.

But the better part of valor is discretion, she reminded herself. She chose the high road and began bravely, "You might expect that I would be terribly disappointed in Desmond here, but I cannot be. I am, and will always be, immensely proud of him." She looked at Lady Garway. "He survived the death of his beloved father at a very young age." She paused. "I imagine at his death he must have asked himself more than once if he would ever know love, if he would ever have that chance again." She looked at all of them. "So as much as I wish he had exercised more discipline in these circumstances, I, for one, will not pass judgment on them."

"Well said, Mrs. Baines," Lord Garway spoke out clearly. "I could not agree more." He glanced at everyone in turn.

The Countess appeared suitably moved by Mrs. Baines's words. "Hear, hear," she said softly. “I do have some news that will please everyone here. It seems Sir Isaac Evans is gone. He was in England one day; no trace of him the next. And no one who knows anything is speaking of it. The speaking instead was left to the ignorant and the ill informed. So, of course, the rumors are running unrestrained and being believed most willingly and without reserve.”

“You don't say! What such rumors?” Lady Louisa interrupted the old lady.

“
The most believed rumor is that Sir Isaac suddenly enlisted in the regiment in the north. But there were other whispers that he was sent to America to fight in the brewing war, another placing him at the losing end of a duel, and even a rumor that said he was off to marry a rich widow of forty four in New Zealand. But he is gone, and many a shopkeeper came forth to claim that he owed them this and that amount, and how he had trifled with some of their daughters.” The Countess released a deep sigh before continuing. “His reputation is done for. I don't see him being a worry to this household any longer.”

An eerie quietness befell the room once again. As for Lady Garway, she stared down at her plate in silence.

Lord Garway rang for Abbott. His appetite had returned.

At Clayton House, Desmond and Rebecca were entangled on his bed, both fully clothed. Desmond's hand was under her skirt, bracing her leg around his right hip as he kissed her. He stopped to look at her and moved his hand to her face. He held her cheek gently.

"Rebecca, I don't want this day to end. How I wish you could stay with me tonight," he said to her softly. "I am so utterly consumed by my love for you." His lips were shiny and wet from her kisses.

Rebecca's eyes burned with desire for him. "We don't have much time, darling," she reminded him. She sat up and removed her shoes. Next, she stood up, reached under her skirt, and pulled down her petticoat gingerly. She reached for Desmond then and pulled him up from the bed. As he stood in front of her, she began to undo his pants. While they kissed, she reached into his briefs and pulled him out. She began to stroke him gently.

He moaned. "Oh, Rebecca," he whispered. His knees went weak, forcing him to sit. She climbed on top of him, with her skirt lifted. He was ready and so was she. She lowered herself onto him until he filled her up. She gasped softly and began to rock her hips slowly.

"Oh, Desmond, I love you. I love this with you," she said softly.

Desmond was panting now. He lay back and stared at her as she moved to a steady, sultry rhythm. He reached under her skirt and felt the muscles of her thighs move as they worked on him.

Rebecca held his gaze and leaned forward, placing her hands on his chest. They each shifted their hips, bringing Desmond deeper inside of her.

"I'm very close now," she whispered to him, breathing quickly. She maintained her rhythm, relishing the fullness of him.

Suddenly, she reached for it, that final searing quiver that would undo her. Rebecca drew her breath in sharply twice and then again.

He watched her as she came and he felt her tremble. In an instant, his arousal reached its peak. He closed his eyes and thrust upward with the surge. All of his muscles gave way under the force of his rapture.

He groaned. He felt her lips on his and he opened his mouth for her. Their tongues met while Rebecca continued to sway on him until they were both spent.

Perhaps a minute had passed when Desmond stopped their kiss to look at her. He caught her gaze.

"Promise me that you will never leave me, Rebecca," he asked her quietly. "Promise me."

Rebecca raised herself on her arms and looked down at him. "My dear Desmond," she replied. "How could I leave you? I could not go on living without our love for each other."