Retreat From Love (14 page)

Your Devoted Servant,

Bertie

* * * * *

Anne rolled over onto her back on the blanket spread across the grass. She had had quite a bit of wine and was feeling extraordinarily happy. She watched a cloud lazily stroll across an impossibly blue sky with a smile.

“I love it here.” She felt as lazy as that cloud, with a full stomach and the warmth of the day flowing through her. When they’d reached the pond, she discovered that Freddy had had a veritable banquet prepared and laid out by the staff from Ashton Park. They’d eaten at a table set with china and silver, the wind a cool, gentle caress against her back. The wine had been crisp and refreshing, the food delicious, and the staff dismissed as soon as they were done. Freddy had produced a soft blanket and spread it on the grass and they’d been lounging here desultorily for a while. All in all, it was a perfect picnic, and unlike any picnic Anne had enjoyed before.

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Brett sat beside her resting back on his hands, his legs stretched out and his ankles crossed while Freddy lounged on his side at their feet, leaning on one arm with one knee bent.

“I can see that.” Freddy smiled languidly. “Bertie’s letters mention the pond.”

Anne lifted her head and looked at Freddy as she blushed. “Do they? Hmm, I forgot about that. Well, skip those parts.”

Brett laughed. “I think I should like to read those parts.”

Anne looked at him, but Brett was staring out across the pond with a thoughtful look on his face. At least he wasn’t grim anymore. He’d been alarmingly skittish around her today, which was not what she had anticipated or wanted. After their exchange yesterday she’d half expected to be ravished when they got here. But she’d had no such luck. Well, if a woman wanted to be ravished, Anne supposed she had to take matters into her own hands. She brought her attention back to the conversation.

She sighed theatrically. “Well, I suppose the fact that Bertie relieved me of my maidenly innocence here under that very bridge,” she pointed, “is no secret to the two of you.”

Brett coughed next to her as if he was choking, but Freddy grinned mischievously and slid his hand around her foot and up to her ankle.

“No, not a surprise,” Freddy agreed. “I had deduced that from his letters, although he never mentioned it to me. Brett, did he tell you about it?”

Freddy gently pulled Anne’s slipper off and pressed his thumb deeply into the arch of her foot. Anne groaned with pleasure and Brett’s head whipped around to stare at what Freddy was doing.

“Brett?” Freddy prompted.

“I…” Brett cleared his throat. “I’m not sure I should…that is, I don’t think it is appropriate to discuss that in front of Anne.”

Anne gave him an incredulous look. “Why ever not? I’m the one who brought it up.”

Brett actually blushed. Good lord, he was a man. Surely he was conversant with sex? She’d thought he and Freddy were lovers, just like Mr. Westridge and Mr. Schillig.

She was quickly re-evaluating that conclusion. “Now be honest, Brett. Surely Bertie told you about the two of us?”

Brett sighed and gave her an annoyed look. “Yes, he told me. There, are you happy?”

Anne smiled devilishly. “What did he say?” Just then Freddy rubbed her foot in exactly the right way. “Oh God,” she moaned. “Freddy, that feels divine.”

Freddy chuckled. “In my experience women always need a good foot rub. You all wear the most uncomfortable shoes. I don’t see why you can’t get a good pair of boots from Hoby.”

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Anne laughed as she lay back again and stared at the beautiful blue sky. “First of all, I couldn’t afford a pair of boots from Hoby were he so inclined to make them for me. Secondly, boots hardly display a woman’s dainty feet to advantage. But I don’t want to talk about boots. I want to know what Bertie said about me.”

She closed her eyes as Freddy slipped her other shoe off. “Well, Brett, I tried to distract her. There’s nothing for it, old man. You have to tell her what Bertie said.”

Anne opened her eyes slightly and saw Brett sit up. He bent one knee and rested a forearm across it. He’d plucked a blade of grass and was running it between his fingers restlessly.

“He simply mentioned it, that’s all,” Brett hedged.

Anne laughed. “Well, I knew Bertie well enough to say that’s a story, Brett Haversham. He talked more than anyone I’ve ever met in my life. He never merely mentioned anything. He could talk my ear off about the most mundane things.” She sat up abruptly, leaning back on both hands. “Are you telling me he thought our time together was less than memorable?”

Brett was equally astonished and horrified to judge by his expression. “No! No, that’s not what I meant at all. You’re right, Anne. He talked about it endlessly, particularly when he was in his cups or right after he’d gotten a letter from you. It was his favorite memory of home.”

Anne grinned satisfactorily as she lay back down. “Good. That’s what I thought.”

She waited a beat. With a sigh, she prompted him again. “And?”

“And?” Brett responded helplessly.

“And what else? What did he say?”

Brett looked positively pained. “You can’t want me to tell you in detail, Anne, surely.”

Anne gave up. She didn’t wish to make Brett uncomfortable. She wanted the exact opposite, actually. She sighed again. “Fine, Brett. You don’t have to tell me.”

He recognized the disgruntlement in her voice. “Didn’t he tell you how he felt before he left?” Brett sounded hopeful.

Anne waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, he said all the things men think they’re supposed to say. But how do I know he meant them?”

Freddy spoke up as he stroked his hand over the top of her foot and then around her ankle to knead her calf. It felt so good Anne groaned. “He meant them, Anne. I can hear it in his letters. I can tell he cared for you deeply.”

Again Anne waved dismissively. They simply didn’t understand. “Of course he cared for me. I’ve never questioned that. But you see, I believe Bertie felt the same way about me that I felt about him. And I wanted to know if I was right.”

Brett shook his head, obviously confused. “What do you mean?”

Anne stretched her arms over her head and arched her back. It felt good. In spite of the soft blanket and thick grass, the ground was hard. But she also knew that it pressed 71

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her breasts up against the low neckline of her gown until the mounds were near to bursting out. This conversation was important, but she hadn’t forgotten that she was determined to seduce the two of them today. Freddy’s hand paused on her calf and his grip tightened. Beside her she heard Brett catch his breath. She slowly relaxed the stretch, bringing her hands down to lie across her stomach. She raised the knee of the leg that Freddy was not holding, hoping her skirt was hiked up enough to give him a view of her ankles and lower legs, perhaps even more. The thought made her breath catch and her sex clenched once before she felt it swell and flood. In the next instant Freddy’s hand traveled up to her knee, pushing her skirt up as he went. He stopped when he reached her garter. Anne chanced a glance down and saw him watching her with sharp, intense eyes. When she made no protest he slid his fingers under the garter and started to pull it down. Anne licked her lip and then bit it, and a flush spread across Freddy’s cheeks.

“I loved Bertie very much,” Anne said softly. “He was my best friend. But I was never in love with him.”

Anne’s statement shocked both men. She could see it in their faces.

“Anne!” Brett gasped.

Anne shook her head. “That’s just the way it was. I think we drifted into our engagement because it was easy. I…I had sex with Bertie because I was curious and young, and he was safe. And when he insisted on marriage, I let him, for the same reasons. I believe Bertie was influenced not only by his behavior but the fact that he was leaving. He was scared, and he wanted to make sure someone here missed him, someone was waiting for him.” Anne sighed. She was afraid she’d ruined the day, but there was something inside her that said it was important to tell them this before things went any farther.

She rose onto her hands again. Freddy hadn’t let go of her leg. That was a good sign. But beside her she could feel the tension radiating off Brett. “When he returned I was going to tell Bertie that I couldn’t marry him. But I didn’t want to tell him while he was over there. I think I knew how important our relationship was to him while he was on the peninsula. But I also knew that if I married him, we would both regret it eventually. I had already seen too many marriages entered into without love that later dissolved into hate. I didn’t want that for us.” Anne shook her head. “No, I was never going to marry Bertie. And in the end, he knew that.”

Freddy resumed what he’d been doing, removing her garter matter-of-factly and then pulling her stocking off. Brett stiffened beside her when he noticed but otherwise gave no indication he’d seen it. “How do you know that he knew that?” Freddy asked as he reached for her other leg.

Anne lifted the leg and gave it to him as she tilted her head. He pulled the stocking off that leg as well. “In his last few letters he alluded to it. He told me that he wanted me to be happy, no matter what that took. That he would always think of me as his best friend, very like he thought of Brett.”

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Brett jerked next to her, as if startled. “He talked about me in his letters?”

Anne couldn’t help it. She laughed. “Of course! His letters were full of Brett this, and Brett that. Why do you think I feel as if I know you?” Anne reached out and put her hand on Brett’s where it rested on the ground. “You were so good to him, Brett. You were his rock. I would have worried more about him if you hadn’t been there to take care of him.”

Brett flinched and Anne furrowed her brow in consternation. Why did that upset him? With an inner sigh Anne remembered their conversation that first day, when Brett had told her it should have been him.

“I don’t blame you, Brett,” she told him softly, squeezing his hand. “I told you that.

I really don’t. Things happen. Good, wonderful people die. That is life. We can’t blame ourselves. Don’t blame yourself.”

Brett shook his head, saying nothing as he gazed out over the pond. His jaw was tight, but he turned his hand and squeezed Anne’s back.

“So because you and Bertie were not in love, you don’t think the sex was good?”

Freddy asked conversationally.

She chuckled darkly and Brett’s grasp tightened. He immediately let go as if burned. Anne determined that he was interested, but he needed a little persuading before he gave in. It seemed as if Freddy was up to the task.

“Not at all,” Anne purred. She felt like rolling around on the two of them, rubbing their scent all over her. She loved this feeling. She loved everything about sex, and she knew that with these two men it would be better than anything she had ever experienced. “I’ve had enough sex to know that what Bertie and I did was very good.”

“What?” Brett barked, scandalized.

Anne gave him an arched brow. “Have you forgotten how we met? I was

practically begging you to fuck me, Brett, without even knowing who you were.” She got a little annoyed. “Do you think women don’t get lonely? Did you think I’d have sex with Bertie, good sex, and then be content to wither away without the touch of a man ever again?” She shook her head. “I’m not like that. I crave it. I enjoy sex. There, I’ve said it. I’ve only ever had it with strangers, besides Bertie. Perhaps that’s why sex with Bertie was better than anything I’ve had since. Perhaps sex with men who I know and am attracted to will always be better.” She looked at him. “What is your experience?”

“I…I do not know,” Brett whispered. He seemed reluctantly fascinated with the conversation.

Anne nodded. “Then you’ve only had sex with strangers too?”

Brett nodded, not even bothering to speak. Anne’s heart ached for him. She ached to be the one to show him the difference, to show him what sex could be between people who cared for one another.

“I have had sex with someone I know, a friend,” Freddy said softly. He was running his hand up and down Anne’s bare leg. He pushed her dress up and over her 73

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knee and it bunched in her lap, exposing her thighs. Freddy gently ran his hand over her knee and caressed the top of her thigh. Anne didn’t try to hold back her little whimper. God, his hands felt good. She’s imagined his hands on her just like this. His long, elegant fingers and smooth palm gliding along her leg. She shivered at the sensation and he stopped for a moment to grasp her thigh in acknowledgement, then he resumed his caresses. “The sex was better. It was sweeter, slower. It meant something.”

That got Brett’s attention. “Who?” The question burst out of him, and he

immediately looked as if he’d like to take it back.

“Simon,” Freddy murmured, running his index finger down to the crease where Anne’s leg met her hip. She shivered again, at the implication of his words and at his touch. Freddy had had sex with a man. At least, she assumed Simon was a man.

“Simon?” Brett exclaimed. “You had sex with Simon? When?” He was angry, which Anne found interesting. Were they lovers then? Freddy’s next comment answered the question.

“Several months ago. When I began to realize that no matter how much I wanted you, you were not going to take me to bed.”

Brett started to rise, but Anne instinctively reached out a hand to stop him. Just as she’d known it was important to tell them about her true feelings for Bertie, she knew this conversation was just as important.

Brett’s body was rigid with displeasure. “So because I respected your youth and inexperience, you leapt into bed with a man who has fucked half of London.”

Freddy sighed and stopped rubbing Anne’s thigh. She missed his touch but said nothing. This exchange was too fascinating.

“Hardly leapt. You claimed I was too young and you didn’t want to corrupt me. So I thought I’d see what exactly you were afraid of.” Freddy looked at Brett impatiently.