Mistress by Marriage (8 page)
“There.” She stood, fishing her torn gown from the floor and draping it about her as best she could. “You can go home now.”
Edward collapsed on the couch, his pants still down. He reached into a pocket, handed her a handkerchief and watched her delicately blot her lips. He tried to smile, but his facial muscles were as slack as his brain. “I think I had better reciprocate, don’t you?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Completely unnecessary. I am fully capable of attending to my own needs, thank you.”
“Is that how you spend your nights, Caro? With your fingers—or an object? I confess, I think I’d like to watch.”
She blushed. “You presume too much.”
He caught her hand and brought it to his mouth. The dress dropped to the floor again. She was still as he kissed each knuckle, then inserted her longest finger into his mouth, imitating her earlier act. He suckled until her blush deepened, circling her palm lazily with his hand. She soon buckled and fell into his lap.
“Maybe I have a lover,” she rasped.
He released her finger and pressed it against her slit. “Show me, Caro. Show me what you do.” He helped her get started, stroking over her hand until she was boneless, her head back against his shoulder. Her jasmine-scented hair tickled his throat. He wished he’d removed his clothing, but at least his cock was free, hardening and nestled in the cleft of her arse. His left hand was busy with her full breasts, teasing each nipple to pink marble.
He knew she was close. Her honey dripped, and he took his hand away. She went still instantly.
“Finish it, Caro. Come for me.”
She groaned in frustration. He chose that moment to nip her ear, then sweep his tongue inside. Clumsy at first, her fingers circled again as he’d taught her. He watched, riveted, heard her shallow breaths, felt her tremble straight through his skin to his bones. A wicked rose flush crept over her chest to her belly. He held her to him as she crested, crying out. It was too soon for him, but he needed to feel closer. Lifting her hips, he sank into her and concentrated on the way she contracted around him. He pushed her hand aside, touching her himself, pinching and stroking until she spasmed endlessly around him. Somewhat of a miracle, his own tension mounted and he experienced another orgasm nearly as strong as the first.
They sat in a mutual stupor, consciousness clouded, their hearts erratic. Edward glanced at the case clock. He’d not been there quite half an hour and he was wrecked. He should go home. But he had no inclination to displace Caroline from his lap, her scent of jasmine and sex drugging him to complacency. The couch was too narrow for them to sleep on; at some point he would have to let her go.
He had an early day tomorrow as well. Some last-minute minutiae before Parliament recessed for the season—if it would. Edward had heard rumblings that did not sit well with him. He longed for the sweeping green of Christie Park, Alice’s garden in riotous bloom, riding with his sons and daughter. He and Ned would visit the barony’s tenants, perhaps go so far as lending a hand in the mowing and haying, getting their backs brown from honest labor. Ned would have an opportunity to reacquaint himself with his neighboring cousin Amelia, and perhaps discover she was not so insipid after all.
Edward took his responsibilities seriously, as a member of the government and as landlord and manager of a considerable estate. But right now, all he wanted to do was drowse in Caro’s arms.
“Edward.”
“Mmpf.” His lips brushed her temple and she twitched.
“I really am very tired.”
“As am I. I find you quite exhausting.” He traced a pattern on her rounded stomach as she swatted him away.
“Be serious. I have an appointment with my publisher tomorrow, where I must plead for an extension for next month’s book. He won’t be happy with me.”
Privately, Edward wished Garrett Marburn to the deepest hole of unhappiness possible. The natural son of an earl, he had all the posturing but none of the paternity of his class. Marburn had been well educated, and chose to skewer his father and his friends with scandalous accounts of society mischief. Caroline’s
Courtesan Court
books were only a portion of his publishing empire, and the least salacious of the lot, which was saying something. Rumor had it that Marburn was desperate to acquire a Jane Street house for himself, but the closest he’d come was to inveigle Caroline into writing about it for him. Deeds to Jane Street passed only in the most special of circumstances, and so far Marburn had not qualified despite his personal wealth.
Courtesan Court
books were only a portion of his publishing empire, and the least salacious of the lot, which was saying something. Rumor had it that Marburn was desperate to acquire a Jane Street house for himself, but the closest he’d come was to inveigle Caroline into writing about it for him. Deeds to Jane Street passed only in the most special of circumstances, and so far Marburn had not qualified despite his personal wealth.
“Are you suggesting that I leave?”
“I am
insisting
that you leave. If you stay the night, we won’t get a bit of rest. A woman my age needs her beauty sleep.”
insisting
that you leave. If you stay the night, we won’t get a bit of rest. A woman my age needs her beauty sleep.”
“Don’t flatter me, and don’t fish for compliments. You’re holding up very well.”
“I’ve gained more than a stone. Perhaps even two.”
“I hadn’t noticed,” Edward lied. That explained the subtle difference—Caroline was softer, although her tongue was sharp as ever. He believed the extra weight suited her, made her slightly more mortal. She had lived like a goddess on a pedestal in his mind for too long.
“I need to get up. Please release me.”
“In a moment.” Edward shifted to retrieve Caroline’s dress. “Well, I’ll be damned. It’s—it’s
engineered
to come apart like that. You didn’t tear it at all.”
engineered
to come apart like that. You didn’t tear it at all.”
“Clever, isn’t it? And most effective.”
Edward laughed and set Caroline next to him on the sofa. “My God, you’re a witch. If you were a man, I bet you could have exiled Napoleon to Elba far sooner.”
“Poor man. I hear his treatment at St. Helena is a scandal.” Caroline took the garment from him and fastened it so she could go upstairs without undue curiosity. He supposed he’d better hike up his breeches as well—his long shanks made him a figure of fun.
“One reaps what one sows,” Edward said. He couldn’t squeeze out much sympathy for the man who’d upended the world for all of his adult life. “I shall see you tomorrow evening. For dinner, if I remember correctly.”
Caroline frowned. “Yes. You know you’re a bit of a tyrant. What if your dates don’t suit mine?”
“One must eat, Caro, even a skinny fellow like me, and so must you. I shan’t take up too much of your time.”
“Promises, promises,” Caroline muttered. She whirled away in a scarlet flash, leaving him to see himself out.
Tomorrow night, he’d get her upstairs, or enjoy trying. Whistling most unlike a Christie, he buttoned up his trousers and walked into the balmy London evening.
Chapter 7
There was nothing she liked so much as matchmaking, but Lady Laura lived alone, doomed to press her lightly-freckled nose against the glass and watch the world in love without her.—Lady Laura’s Lesson
T
he occasion called for diamonds, not as celebration but distraction. Caroline had only her engagement and wedding rings, and a simple spray of smallish stones set into a pin that had belonged to Edward’s mother. The major Christie jewels were locked up as they should be, waiting for the boys to marry and Allie to grow up. Caroline set the pin aside as not battle-worthy and picked up the topaz drop. Since her bronzy gown was cut conveniently low, it would do. She’d just need to be careful not to entice Garrett too thoroughly. He was getting more dogged by the day for her to break her vow of celibacy. Little did he know she had done so already with her husband.
he occasion called for diamonds, not as celebration but distraction. Caroline had only her engagement and wedding rings, and a simple spray of smallish stones set into a pin that had belonged to Edward’s mother. The major Christie jewels were locked up as they should be, waiting for the boys to marry and Allie to grow up. Caroline set the pin aside as not battle-worthy and picked up the topaz drop. Since her bronzy gown was cut conveniently low, it would do. She’d just need to be careful not to entice Garrett too thoroughly. He was getting more dogged by the day for her to break her vow of celibacy. Little did he know she had done so already with her husband.
She would ask Garrett’s opinion on the divorce, and show him the annoying communication from Sir William Maclean. Will had always been worse than Edward when it came to propriety. The barrister had been opposed to Edward’s second marriage, and made no bones about it. Caroline hoped if
he
ever married, justice would finally be served. His wife could bring him before Cupid’s court without mercy. Rob him of all his dry legal language until he blithered like a bedlamite. Imprison him in a cage of lust so he knew for once what it felt like. Caroline would love to sit on the sidelines and watch the great Maclean unmanned.
he
ever married, justice would finally be served. His wife could bring him before Cupid’s court without mercy. Rob him of all his dry legal language until he blithered like a bedlamite. Imprison him in a cage of lust so he knew for once what it felt like. Caroline would love to sit on the sidelines and watch the great Maclean unmanned.
Lizzie knocked quietly at the bedroom door. “Mr. Marburn is downstairs, Lady Christie. Shall I show him up?”
Caroline and Garrett often used her upstairs sitting room to discuss business, but she wanted the formality of the downstairs drawing room today. Then she remembered last night and its extreme informality and felt the heat on her cheeks. Soon there would be no room in her house that would be safe from Edward’s aura.
She couldn’t very well meet with Garrett in the kitchen, so she might as well stay put. “Yes, Lizzie, please. And bring up the lunch tray in half an hour or so—with whiskey for Mr. Marburn.”
Lizzie bobbed and did as she was bid. Caroline tucked herself in a corner of her plum sofa and fanned some papers to cool herself off. Her notebooks were stacked neatly on the table, not that Garrett would give her credit for order. He was likely to be very irritated with her indeed.
He strode into the room, looking every inch the gentleman. His light brown hair was perfectly arranged, the cut of his clothes exquisite. Evidently he felt she looked her best, too. Placing a hand over his heart, he grinned. “Caroline the Divine. How I’ve missed you.”
She had planned to wait for the topaz or the whiskey to take effect, but decided to get it over with. “I hope I stay in your good graces, Garrett. I’m afraid I have some bad news for you.”
Garrett lifted a groomed eyebrow. “Should I sit or stand ready to flee?”
She patted the sofa. A mistake. He sat too close and she felt it was not only the topaz which absorbed his attention. “I’ve had a bit of a setback with
The Harlot’s Husband
. I don’t believe it will be quite ready to publish on the usual schedule.”
The Harlot’s Husband
. I don’t believe it will be quite ready to publish on the usual schedule.”
Garrett waved a careless hand. “Let your public wait then. A delay will only serve to make them more eager. Are we talking days or weeks?”
“You—you’re not upset?”
“Caroline, darling, the only thing that would upset me would be if you told me you’d found your conscience and refused to write what we both know to be utter drivel.”
Caroline gave him a little shove, not half so hard as she wanted. “It is not drivel! I’ll have you know I work very hard assuring the quality of my stories!”
“Yes, yes,” he said dismissively. “Art and all that. It’s sex your public wants, and secrets. Let’s not put pearls on the pig.”
Caroline was vexed and sat up straight. While she knew she was not writing the great English novel, Garrett’s words stung. He reminded her quite forcibly of Edward at the moment.
She poked a finger into his chest, which was still too near. “
You
try churning out a novel a month!”
You
try churning out a novel a month!”
He inched backward a fraction. “Caroline, you aren’t trying to increase your advance, are you? Not that you’re not worth every penny. But summer’s upon us. The ton are leaving the city for their boring country estates and sales always drop. You have that husband of yours to support you. Hit the dullard up for extra cash if you’re short.”
“Oh!” Caroline stamped her foot, managing to clip the tip of Garrett’s boot. “Sorry. No, I’m not short of money. What I am short of is time. Something”—
someone
—“has come up.”
someone
—“has come up.”
“Caroline, I’m a businessman first. I’m not making a fuss that you’re failing your contractual obligation to me. Finish the damn book whenever. But I’ll not give you another penny unless you stop playing games with me and finally let me into your bed.”
“Oh!” Her foot came down harder. Garrett just laughed.
“Why are you paying any attention to me at this late date? You know I just like to tease you. A man like me can hope.” He cupped her chin.
Caroline blinked, but not soon enough. A tear splashed on her powdered cheek.
“Something’s riled you, and it’s not me.”
“Yes. No. Oh, Garrett.” She swallowed, feeling very like one of her stupid heroines. “Edward is divorcing me.”
Garrett’s steady brown eyes met hers. “Good.”
“Is it? I’ll still have this house, and I suppose he’ll settle some money on me, but—but—” She looked down at the diamonds twinkling on her finger. She would keep wearing them, even after.
“Good Christ. You still love him.” He stood up, angry. “I’ve never understood why a warm-blooded woman like you fell for such a dry stick. By God, he even looks like a stick, like some sort of mutant tree.”
“You’re just jealous because he’s taller than you. Edward is a very attractive man.”
Garrett shot her an incredulous look. “Don’t expect me to notice. I’m not Andrew Rossiter.”
Caroline shivered. “Unfair,” she whispered. “I’m sorry I ever told you.”
“Well, I’m not. I could kill them both with my bare hands for hurting you.”
Despite the seriousness of her situation, Caroline smiled. “You cannot kill a peer of the realm. But I would have no objection to you going a few rounds with Andrew.”
“A few rounds? Don’t be absurd. I’d flatten him in seconds, bastard to bastard. Caroline, what can I do to help? Do you want me to talk to Christie?”
“Good Lord, no. He wouldn’t see you at any rate.”
“I’ve got my ways,” Garrett said darkly. “He needs to be told.”
“No!” Caroline said, alarmed. “You promised.”
“That was when you were just an estranged wife. But if he means to divorce you—why, he can’t, can he? He’ll have to prove you were unfaithful.”
“Andrew will lie if the price is right. There are the letters, too. No one need know they predate my marriage.”
Garrett sat back down, gripping her hands in his. “Do you want this divorce, Caroline? If you do, you needn’t have anything to do with Rossiter. I can give evidence.”
The idea had some appeal. She would prefer she never had her name linked to Andrew Rossiter in any way. But Garrett Marburn was too good a friend, and the scandal could affect his business adversely. “Your reputation would be ruined, Garrett.”
He barked out a laugh. “Aye, illegitimate son that I am. And
in trade
, even worse. I’m already persona non grata. But people will still buy my newspapers and books, Caroline. They cannot help themselves.” He gave her hands a quick squeeze. “You know as well as I do some people think we’re lovers as it is.”
in trade
, even worse. I’m already persona non grata. But people will still buy my newspapers and books, Caroline. They cannot help themselves.” He gave her hands a quick squeeze. “You know as well as I do some people think we’re lovers as it is.”
She shook her head. “I know you mean well, but I cannot bring you into this any more than you are already. I wanted to warn you Sir William Maclean will probably contact you. Don’t lie for me, Garrett. We’ve done nothing to be ashamed of.”
“Not that I haven’t tried, Caroline. I wonder, does Christie even know what he’s giving up? You’ve never let me touch you, but I know it would be good between us. More than good. You’re light and fire, Caroline, meant for love. For life. For laughter.”
She did love Garrett, but not in the right way. Caroline pulled her hands free and wiped her face. “You are supposed to cheer me up, not make me blubber.”
“Well, I thought that was a very pretty speech if I do say so myself, and I expect to read it verbatim, if not in
The Harlot’s Husband
then in some other volume. What’s the name of the next one?
The Duke’s Doxy
?” He winked at her.
The Harlot’s Husband
then in some other volume. What’s the name of the next one?
The Duke’s Doxy
?” He winked at her.
“You didn’t mean one word! Oh, you are incorrigible.”
“Every minute of the day.” He moved his foot before she could stomp it again.
“There’s something else, too,” said Caroline, remembering. “Edward told me that Lords Pope and Douglass visited him the other day, threatening legal action over my books.”
Garrett laughed. “Cold Christie must have had a spasm entertaining those two. How I wish I had been there. I’d have set them straight.”
“I know you have legal representation, and you say we are safe, but—”
“We are, Caroline. Don’t add that to your list of worries. If it will make you feel any better, I can have one of my men move in to guard you.”
“Guard me! Surely it won’t come to that. We’re all perfectly safe here on Jane Street.”
Garrett frowned. “I hope so. You know there was some sort of incident involving Sir Michael Bayard. The watchman was knocked on the head.”
“There are two watchmen now, and Charlotte’s gone. The house is empty.” Caroline smiled. There was nothing left of her friend but some cupid dust in the garden. There was plenty of essence of angel to protect all the women who lived there.
A clatter at the door signaled Lizzie was up with lunch. Garrett went to the door and let her in. “Lizzie, my love, you get more beautiful every time I see you. That mobcap is rather criminal, though, covering all that golden hair.” In an instant, he plucked it off her head. Lizzie was openmouthed, the heavy tray preventing her from retaliation.
“I’ll take the whiskey back downstairs if you don’t give it back this instant.”
Garrett swept the tray out of her hands. “Indeed you will not. Caroline, you don’t insist your maid wear that ridiculous headgear, do you? Bad enough the poor girl’s all in black with an apron concealing her luscious curves.”
“Garrett!”
“Mr. Marburn!”
“Ah, the outrage. I’m a man. I have eyes.” He set the tray down on the small dining table. “And I’ve a powerful thirst.” He poured two fingers from the decanter into the glass. “To the ladies of Jane Street. May the future be bright for you both.” He tossed back the liquor as Lizzie fled the room.
Caroline came to the table and distributed the plates and cutlery. “It’s one thing to tease me, Garrett, but don’t be so cavalier with Lizzie. She’s had a hard year.”
Garrett popped an olive into his mouth. “Who says I’m being cavalier? I find her very fetching. She’s wasted as your maid.”
“She can’t go back to being a whore. Pope made sure of that.”
“Who said anything about her being a whore?”
Caroline put her fork down. “Garrett,” she said carefully, “what are your intentions toward my maid?”
Garrett speared a chunk of chicken and waved it across the table. “My intentions? Are you the girl’s mother?”
“She was brutally beaten. Her back is a mess and her spirits worse. Don’t toy with her.”
“Caroline, I don’t know if I ever told you. My mother was a Jane. Lived in Number Ten under my father’s protection. I have no objection to her former profession. I’m that rare thing—a true son of a whore. And I remember when your Lizzie was Eliza Reynolds, one of the most beautiful girls on the stage. Couldn’t dance well, but didn’t need to.”
“That was years ago. There were men before Pope, you know.”
Garrett shook his head. “You must decide whether you’re championing Lizzie or championing me. Leave it, Caroline.”
Caroline took a sip of wine. Could it be she was jealous? No, not at all. She didn’t want Garrett for herself, like some sort of trained lapdog who danced for his treat. He was her best friend at present, not a potential lover. But Garrett and Lizzie? She took another sip and choked. My word, it all sounded like a possible plot for a book—
The Bastard’s Battered Beauty
. It was too perfect for words. She might be able to get her digs in again against the wretched Randolph Pope. But no. Garrett wouldn’t publish such a thing, although perhaps he could live it.
The Bastard’s Battered Beauty
. It was too perfect for words. She might be able to get her digs in again against the wretched Randolph Pope. But no. Garrett wouldn’t publish such a thing, although perhaps he could live it.
“What do you think of Queen Caroline coming home?” she asked, changing the subject as requested. If anyone knew the latest
on dit
, it would be the man at her luncheon table. As Garrett ate and gestured, Caroline drifted off, plotting the next romance, one she had every intention of orchestrating from the ground up.
on dit
, it would be the man at her luncheon table. As Garrett ate and gestured, Caroline drifted off, plotting the next romance, one she had every intention of orchestrating from the ground up.
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