Miss Foster’s Folly (9 page)

“Surely, no woman would turn down the pleasure of serving as the lady of the house at Derrington Manor,” Lady Mitford said.

“The Manor needs a lady in residence,” he said. “After my parents’ death, my grandmother prefers to live in her family’s villa in Italy.”

“Italy.” Miss Foster’s eyes flew open. “Your grandmother is Italian?”

“In part. It’s the family secret, not that anyone couldn’t discover it if they tried,” he said.

“Why on Earth would you feel to keep that secret?”

“The culture’s too rich for some people’s blood,” he said.

“But, that’s ridiculous.” Her hand settled on his knee, and this time, he left it there.

“I absolutely agree,” their hostess said. “Don’t you, Mitford?”

“Positively,” her husband agreed.

“I’m glad to hear you say so,” he said. “My grandmother added some Mediterranean flare to the manor. Statues, that sort of thing. Nudes. Not everyone approves.”

The hand on his leg inched just above his knee to his thigh. He glanced at Miss Foster out of the corner of his eye and caught her glancing back.

“The garden is particularly florid,” he said. “Just your taste in flowers, Mrs. Marlow.”

“Oh, I’d love to see it,” Lady Mitford said.

“And you shall. I’ll throw a house party this summer. We can explore the gardens, and Mrs. Marlow can expound on turgid blossoms to her heart’s content.” He set his hand on Miss Foster’s knee and squeezed it. She stiffened in surprise. What had she expected?

“Lord Derrington, I didn’t mean to beg an invitation,” the hostess said.

“Not at all. I should have extended it myself. I should have had house parties there long ago, but I’ve never had a hostess.” He gazed lovingly at Miss Foster and gave her knee a firmer squeeze for good measure. “So, you’re all invited to Derrington Manor this summer.”

Miss Foster gaped at him. “Summer? I’m afraid we’ll be gone by then.”

“Oh, but my dear, you could stay for a house party at Derrington Manor.” Lady Mitford clapped her hands in delight. “We’d love to attend, wouldn’t we, Mitford?”

“Absolutely.” Mitford looked every bit as delighted as his wife.

“I don’t think—” Miss Foster said.

He moved his hand up her leg to mid thigh and stroked her through her clothing. Slowly, up and down. She swallowed hard and clutched her spoon in a death grip.

“Blandings, you come too, and Lady Blandings, of course,” he said.

“After the baby’s arrived, she should be in better spirits,” Blandings said. “She may even be able to tolerate my company.”

“We should be able to find a single man to round out the party. The local vicar’s a handsome fellow.”

Miss Rhodes blushed. “Not on my account, I hope.”

“Oh, but we can’t,” Miss Foster declared. “We’ll be in Geneva by then. Miss Fletcher’s ill. She needs treatment.”

“Nonsense,” Derrington replied. “There’s no better cure for anything than fresh air and the English countryside.”

“Fishing and shooting,” Blandings said. “That’ll fix whatever ails you.”

Miss Foster stiffened and removed her hand from his leg. That only gave him better access to her thigh, and he inched his fingers closer to her sex. With all the layers of fabric covering her flesh, he had no way of knowing the exact effect of his touch, but it obviously had her flustered.

“Mil—that is, my cousin needs specialists,” she said.

Aha, she’d almost said her friend’s real name. Obviously, his caresses were having the desired effect. She pressed her legs together. Perhaps she meant to stop the progress of his fingers, but in reality, that inched them closer to their goal. He shouldn’t toy with her this way, but she’d begun the game. He’d only touch her once, and lightly. No more than to make the point that she shouldn’t start something she didn’t know how to finish.

“Specialists,” he said. “Nothing more than witch doctors with their potions and so-called ‘treatments.’ You’d prefer the countryside, wouldn’t you, Miss Fletcher?”

Miss Rhodes looked every bit as confused as her friend. She stared at Miss Foster, clearly seeing that something was going on she didn’t understand.

“A little rustication,” he went on. “We’ll make a side trip to Bath. You’ll take the waters.”

Lady Mitford reached over and placed her hand on Miss Rhodes’. “You’ll love Bath, Miss Fletcher. Do say you’ll try that rather than leave England.”

She gave them all a shaky smile. “Of course. If it makes you happy, Lady Mitford.”

“It’s all settled then,” Lady Mitford decreed.

The footman cleared away their plates, taking Miss Foster’s nearly untouched soup. He hadn’t eaten much either, as his hand had been firmly planted between her legs during most of the conversation. In a moment, the servants would bring another course, and he’d have to give off stroking her thigh or someone would comment on his lack of appetite. The time for bold action had come.

Using a firmer stroke, he worked his fingers closer and closer to her sex. She sat, rigid, the entire time, staring straight ahead of her as if in a trance. When he finally touched her, rubbing at his best guess of the location of her pearl, she jerked in her seat and let out a little cry. He immediately ceased his assault and raised his hand to the tabletop.

Lady Mitford gave her a quizzical look. “Are you well, Mrs. Marlow?”

Miss Foster stood so quickly she almost knocked over her chair. “I…I think I need some air.”

Miss Rhodes also got to her feet, and Blandings and Mitford did the same.

“I’ll come with you,” Miss Rhodes said.

“No!” Miss Foster motioned at her with both hands and took a few breaths. “That is, everyone, please stay where you are. I only need to catch my breath.”

She left the room at nearly a run.

He rose. “I’ll take care of this. I think I know what ails Mrs. Marlow.”

“Deuced if I do,” Mitford said.

Miss Rhodes pushed back her chair as if she’d follow him, but he pinned her with a commanding stare, and she resumed her seat.

“Excuse me,” he said and went off in search of Miss Juliet Foster.

Juliet found a secluded spot between some shrubs and the wall that circled the Mitfords’ garden. As far from the house as she could manage without leaving the property all together. Out here, only the dimmest light from the house penetrated her hiding place. She’d stay here and regain her sanity if she had to wait until long after the men had gotten out their cigars and brandy and the ladies had moved to the drawing room.

Oh, dear Lord, who would have guessed that one touch—even to that secret place on her body—could set a fire on all her nerve endings? The strokes along her inner thigh had been bad enough, but when he’d rubbed the spot between her legs, she’d felt as if she’d burst out of her skin. In front of all those people.

Footsteps approached, and she pressed herself against the wall. In darkness, the shadow of the yew should hide her.

Derrington appeared. She held her breath and did her best not to tremble, but he turned and spotted her.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” he said.

“How could you do that to me?” Her voice was shaking. “In front of all the others.”

He walked closer. “And what exactly had you planned to do to me? Your hand was on my thigh, too.”

Curse it, she couldn’t deny the fact. But her intent was to tease, to remind him that she had a few tricks of her own. “That’s different.”

“How?” After a few steps, he moved into her hiding place, blocking any escape.

“You’re a man, a rake. You’re used to that sort of thing.”

“You mean like sitting and making polite conversation with a fully erect member in my pants?”

Put that way, what she’d done did sound more serious than she’d imagined. “I hadn’t thought it through completely.”

“That’s an understatement.”

“But, yes.” She stared him straight in the eye. “That’s exactly what I wanted.”

That seemed to surprise him, as he took a half step backward. “Why, you little devil. You wanted to make my cock stand at attention at the dinner table?”

She wouldn’t have used those words. In fact, she couldn’t have spelled out exactly what she’d expected, but she had planned on teasing that organ. His cock. She might as well call it by its rightful name. Cock.

She lifted her chin and smiled at him. “Did it work?”

“It has now.” He took her hand and placed it at the front of his pants. He had grown hard. And thick. And very, very big.

“Is that what you wanted?” he said.

She measured the length of him, from the base to the tip. She gave that a little squeeze. “That’s exactly what I wanted.”

“Oh, dear God.” He gritted his teeth in an expression that looked like pain, but he didn’t move her hand.

“That’s what you did to me,” she said. She still throbbed between her legs. She still ached for something she couldn’t completely understand. But he did, the bastard. He knew what she needed, and he wouldn’t give it to her. Maybe now, she could push him past the breaking point. She’d never pictured her first time would happen hidden behind a shrub with her back up against a wall. But if fate had planned things this way, who was she to complain?

She stroked him again. “Will you finally frig me now?”

“Oh, I’ll do something.” He pushed her hand away and pressed his body against hers. Her back met the bricks of the wall behind her, but she’d scarcely registered that when his mouth descended to hers. His kiss wasn’t an exploration this time but, rather, a claiming. He took her face between his hands and held it so that he could plunder her lips at will. All the air rushed out of her as she hung onto him and took his harsh breaths as her own. Soon, they were tangled around each other, arms clinging, hands moving over flesh and clothing in an effort to get close and then even closer.

The force of the encounter might have frightened her if her own body hadn’t waited so eagerly for just this. When he did take her—and please God, let him do it now—he wouldn’t do it timidly. Not this man. He had too much fire in him for “please, ma’am” and “thank you very much.” He’d do exactly what he was doing now—demand and demand while she gave and gave.

He released her lips and trailed hot kisses over her jaw and beneath. “By God, you make me wild.”

“Oh, please…” She barely had the strength to whisper the words.

He nipped at her skin and sucked as he continued along her throat to her collarbone. No one had ever touched her this way. Even in her most heated dreams, no one had ever moved her so deeply. Her heart pounded erratically in her chest, and she had to cling to him for support as he kissed the top of one breast and then the other. The other night, he’d touched her, grazing her nipple through her gown. Would he do that again? Could she urge him to linger there longer? It had felt so blessed good.

Instead, he reached inside her dress, all the way down to the top of her corset, and pulled her breast free. It lay against his palm now, exposed directly to his fingers. But he didn’t stop there. He continued kissing her, running his tongue over her flesh and then flicking it against the nipple.

“Oh!” she cried. “I never…oh…”

The peak stiffened to a hard point, and he sucked that into his mouth. She had to clutch his shoulders as he rearranged her world with his caresses. She’d never imagined her body could respond like this. Weak but soaring at the same time. The banked heat between her legs burst into flame.

“Derrington,” she cried.

“David,” he said.

“David,” she repeated. “Please…I need…something.”

“I know what you want, and I’ll give it to you.” He bunched her skirt and petticoats in his fist and then burrowed his hand between her thighs again. Above her garter, his fingers drifted over her knee then upward to her thigh.

He’d touch her sex again, and he’d take her. She’d know him intimately, even accept that impressive cock inside her. Her body didn’t care about the circumstances of their coupling. It just needed him.

His touch moved over her as it had at dinner, but now, it would complete its journey. Up and down it went. Close to the aching lips there and away. Harder and softer, until she could have wept from frustration.

She pounded a fist against his shoulder. “Do it. Do it now.”

He moved his mouth from her breast and rested his face against hers. “In good time.”

“Now. Help me out of my drawers, and do it.”

His fingers found the petals of her sex and stroked them through the thin barrier. Language escaped her, as she let out a yip of pleasure and need.

“Wet already,” he murmured. “Even through the cloth.”

She had, indeed, grown moist. It should have embarrassed her, but she’d left shame far behind.

“I’ve scarcely touched you here, and you’re fully aroused,” he said. “Amazing.”

Bastard. He’d congratulate himself while she’d become as wound up as a spring. She hung onto him and whimpered.

“Poor thing. Here’s what you need.” He found her pearl and rubbed it. Even without direct contact, it responded lightning quick. The charge flashed through her to every sensitive spot—her nipples, her feminine sheath, even to the backs of her knees. Her legs gave out, but he held her upright, pinning her against the wall, as he continued his assault.

“Nothing excites a man more than a woman who craves his touch,” he said.

Then take me!
Her mind screamed.
Give me what I need.

Curse him. He made no move to remove her drawers nor to free his cock. Instead, he kept pressing and rubbing against her swollen nubbin, sending her higher. She slipped into a new reality—a place where nothing mattered but the heat of his breath on her neck, the pressure of his chest against her breasts, and the havoc he was wreaking at that spot between her legs.

Someone moaned softly. Her own voice, a carnal sound she hardly recognized. Then, little cries, each higher in pitch and louder than the last.

“That’s it,” he said. “Spend for me.”

Yes!
Her entire being went up in flames as her sex clenched hard and then burst into explosions. He kept stroking her as she shuddered with the force of her release. She hung somewhere in a world of sensation more powerful than she’d ever imagined. After long moments, she sagged against him. Limp, drowsy and sated.

He removed his hand from under her clothing and stroked her back. “Did you like that?”

Like? What a stupid word. She sighed deeply and nodded against his shoulder.

“If you marry me, you can have that and more—much more—any time you want.”

“I can’t think of anything right now.” Except, maybe, about the large instrument in his trousers. That swelling hadn’t gone away. She stepped aside so that she could measure its length again with her fingers.

He moved her hand away. “Oh, no. Not here. When I know you for the first time, I intend to do it properly.”

“When?” she demanded.

“On our wedding night.”

“Oh for the love of heaven, haven’t you given that up yet?”

He stepped back. Without the heat of his body, the chill of the night washed over her. She tucked her exposed breast back into her dress.

“I’m not your plaything,” he said. “If you want me, you’ll have to marry me.”

“You sound like a melodrama.”

“What’s wrong with you?” he said. “Any number of women would be thrilled to have my proposal of marriage.”

“So marry one of them.”

“But I don’t want them.” He was close to shouting now. “I want you, damn it.”

“Well then take me!” If he could shout, so could she.

“I swear to God…” He pointed a finger in her face and shook it, but no words came out of his mouth, only sputtering. After a moment, he calmed a bit and lowered his hand. “You’d best go back before someone comes looking for us.”

“What about you?”

“I need to stay out here. Clear my head.”

“All right, then. I’ll go.”

He moved back to let her pass. “Do it.”

She swept by him and headed back to the house. He’d scored a victory over her body this time, but he’d escalated their feud into a war. If she’d ever contemplated him as a husband, it would never happen again. He was her opponent, and in the end, she would win on her terms.

***

Juliet had almost made it back to the dining room when Millie intercepted her and pulled her off into the morning room.

Millie silently closed the door behind her and turned on Juliet. “All right. Tell me. All of it.”

“I felt faint, so I went outside for air.”

“And Lord Derrington followed you.”

“Exactly. Now, I’m back.”

Millie crossed her arms over her chest. “Where’s he?”

“He said something about clearing his head.”

“So, that’s it,” Millie said.

“More or less.”

“I don’t believe you.” Millie scowled. “What was his hand doing under the table?”

“Oh, no.” She grasped Millie’s shoulders. “You didn’t see that. Tell me you didn’t.”

“I only saw a wicked sparkle in his eye and the muscles of his arm working under his coat, but I had to wonder.”

“Do you think the others noticed?”

“I doubt it,” Millie said. “They were eating their soup, as opposed to the two of you.”

She moaned and dropped her arms. “How will I face the Mitfords again?”

“Calm down. They didn’t say anything after you left. You’re safe.”

“I’ll kill that Derrington,” she said. “I’ll do it with my bare hands.”

“Juliet, what did he do?”

No use to it. She might as well tell Millie everything. She’d never hidden anything from her friend, and she’d told her all about her plans for this trip. She’d just never imagined that things would get so complicated. She could thank Derrington for that.

She found a chair and dropped onto it. “He touched me.”

Millie got closer. “Touched you?”

Juliet didn’t answer with words but looked up at Millie and put the confession into her expression.

“Dear heaven, he touched you there?” Millie said.

“He stroked my thigh for a while and then that other place.”

“That’s when you jumped up from the table.”

“I had to get away before he did it again,” she said.

Millie went to a chair near hers and sat with a soft thud. “Whatever made him think to do such a thing?”

“I, um, touched him first.”

“Oh, Juliet. How could you?”

“I wanted to drive him crazy.”

“Did it work?” Millie asked.

“Yes and no.”

“Juliet, tell me the truth,” Millie said. “What happened when he followed you outside?”

“Well. I touched him, and he touched me again.”

Millie’s eyes flew open. “You actually put your hand on his…”

“His cock. Yes, but through his clothes.”

Millie leaned toward her. “Was it like the stories the older girls told at Sedgewick?”

“That and more. The details were the same, but the dimensions…the girls had no idea.”

Millie fanned herself. “Oh, my.”

“He’s really quite magnificent.”

“Oh, my, my.” Millie sat for a moment, as if the story had stunned her into silence. “So, what did he do?”

“He put his hand under my skirts and…” She flopped against the back of the chair. “Oh, dear, I can’t even tell you.”

“You should see the look on your face.”

Juliet touched her chest, tracing the path of fire he’d forged with his lips. “What do I look like?”

“Rapture.”

“That’s how I feel.”

“So, I gather he didn’t…well, you know.”

“No, he didn’t frig me,” she said. “But not because I didn’t want him to.”

“Why don’t you give in and marry him? He’ll frig you all you want then.” Millie straightened in her chair. She’d surprised herself with her language, no doubt.

“I’m not going to marry him,” Juliet said. She rose and paced a bit. “He’s a rake and a scoundrel. He can probably convince any woman that the sun rises and sets in her eyes.”

“Don’t you think you’re being too hard on him?”

“I do not. He’ll do anything to get his way.”

Millie humphed. “He’s like you that way.”

“No, he’s not.” She stopped moving and stared at Millie. “I’m honest about what I want. I’ve never lied to him.”

“Have you told him about your plan to sleep your way across Europe?”