The Diary of Cozette (32 page)

“I seek no advantage over milady, but only to satisfy you most completely.”

His hands moved over my rib cage, upwards, gentle in cup ping my breasts, with unhurried caresses that made me faint with desire.

“Wear this for me,” he whispered, lifting a white silk tie to my view.

“Do you mean it for my hands?” I inquired, stretching forth my wrists.

He lifted the fabric to my eyes.

“I want to bring every part of you alive, Cozette. I want only your pleasure this night.”

He began to tie the scarf around my eyes and I smiled at Mr. Rodin’s scandalous manner. “Very well, I will play along with this ruse, my mystery lover.”

He kissed my neck, lingering there, tracing his tongue over the sensitive spot near my ear. I was most curious to confirm my suitor’s identity, but greater still was my desire to partake in this delicious charade.

The scarf held a scent of the musky scent of a man, but beyond that gave me no clue to his identity. Still, the design was indeed of Mr. Rodin’s signature quirks.

I placed my hands over the cool silky fabric covering my eyes. Breathless, I waited for what was to come next.

“You have not touched your food,” he whispered as though trying to disguise his voice. He turned me to face him or so I assumed.

I frowned, realizing how heightened were my other senses when I could not see. “There is a delightful plenty, sir, if you care to help yourself.”

“To have my fill of the sumptuous delights before me?”

His finger touched my cheek, and trailed, slow and with purpose of tantalizing me, down my throat, between the valley of my breasts and hesitated just above my lap.

“Here, take a bite of this.”

His fingers held my chin, as he offered me a bite. I opened my mouth and sank my teeth into a chocolate concoction, finding to my utter delight, a fresh strawberry beneath. The juices ran from my mouth, streaming too quick down my throat to capture it with my hand. He pushed my hand aside and with slow ease, licked the juice from my throat upwards, nearing my mouth. I could sense his warm breath hovering over my lips and I waited in painful anticipation for the kiss I knew would take me to heated pleasure.

“Now this.”

He lifted a glass to my lips and I sipped deeply of the contents recognizing the sparking froth of bubbles in the champagne. Whatever this ploy to tease me mercilessly, I prayed it was no dream.

“This is a lovely gown, but I find that it is in the way of what I wish to do next, do you mind?”

I swallowed at the dryness in my throat. “I trust, sir, you have taken precautions to secure the door?”

“Indeed, milady, all that remains for you to do is lie back and enjoy that I am about to make you forget every lover you’ve known.”

“Oh, my, and such confidence as well.” I smiled, as his fingers made quick haste to unfasten the buttons at my back. The chill of the room, lent itself over my shoulders as he drew my gown down, lifting me from my seat briefly to accompany its complete removal.

I wore a linen chemise and stockings and in truth little else, save the smile of anticipation. He lifted the thin chemise over my arms, his lips touching my taut breasts.

“Shall I not have the pleasure of touching you as well, my secret lover?”

“In due time, but for now, lie back and relax.”

My lip curled to a pout as I did his bidding.

“There now, milady, don’t be glum, I promise you won’t be disappointed.”

A soft brush of something touched my naked flesh, delightful in its musing over my breast and lighting over my belly to my curls. “Is that a feather?”

“See how well you play this game?” he chuckled quietly.

The sensual brush of the feather teased each of my sensitive rose tips, before trailing down my inner thigh and coming back up, in a motion meant to create agony, I am quite sure, as it neared my opening.

“There, my sweet, that is what I want to see, your juices glistening even as did the berry.”

A cool trickle of something wet drizzled between my breasts, followed by his expert tongue, again to my belly and he followed through. A second ticked by, seeming as though time itself stood still, and then the sensation of cool juice dripped between my thighs, tickling my rose.

My heart pounded fiercely, in anticipation and I nearly came undone when his tongue slid slow along my inner thigh and lapped gently at my waiting garden.

“Come for me, sweet woman,” his breath whispered over my flesh, just before his tongue dipped inside my juicy peach, coaxing until at last I was freed from my torment.

His chuckle was sensual, teasing and he pulled me to him, and kissed me hard, my juices mingled with berries on his tongue.

He took my hands, pulling me into his embrace and my body brushed against his bare chest. Resplendent in the sensation I moved against the solid plane, not aware of any familiar aspects to any other lovers I’d known. Nevertheless, it did not matter. He was true to his word. I’d quite forgotten anyone else.

“Taste this.” He placed a small pastry in my hand and I took a bite, savoring the sweet cream inside.

“Delightful,” I spoke my thoughts aloud.

“
That
is as sweet as you, Cozette. Sweet and creamy,” he whispered. “Are you ready for me?”

I smiled. “Sir, are you quite ready for me?” I countered.

“As always, Cozette.”

He took my hands and drew me with him. I sensed when he sat down and followed his guidance as he lifted my leg over his. My knees pressed into the soft cushions. From below, a waltz wafted upward, adding to the swirl of euphoric pleasure.

His lips teased my breasts as his thumbs brushed over my petal, spreading my soft lips. I placed my hands on his shoulders, but he kissed my forearm as he removed them.

“Position your hands above your head, milady. Allow me to do the rest.”

Hesitant at first, the dire need of my peach pushed me to comply. His hand cupped my bottom, the other spread me as he guided me onto his staff. My mind clouded in a sensual haze as I moved to take him in fully. I knew by his touch that it was not my master artist. But who then had such command of my senses?

“You should see how you look, milady, surrendering to your passion. It is unspeakable how beautiful you are,” he whispered over my flesh, his breath catching as our union was complete.

His hands were gentle, resting on my lower back. “See how well we fit, milady.”

“Indeed, sir, you are most worthy of this mysterious game,” I sighed, rocking my hips slowly against him.

He suckled my breast, kneading my hips and I turned my head into my arm, succumbing to the smoky darkness, thick and heavy coiled deep inside me. His mouth’s ministrations abetted the rise of need in my body, creating a frantic need.

We spoke no more, his sighs mingled with mine as I rode his member in glorious rhythm. Aided by the gentle brush of his thumb to where our bodies met, mine was released in a shattering climax. My mystery lover followed in his release, with muttering through clenched teeth, “I love you.”

My hands flew to the scarf, ready to snatch it from my eyes to see the man who would say such a thing. His hands held my wrists tight as his hips thrust thrice upward emptying his seed inside me.

“We had an agreement.”

“One not as cruel as this, you gave me no reason to believe that matters of the heart would be involved.”

“Do you believe then that lust can only be served à la carte and not within the confines of love?”

I stood and he held my hands following me.

“Do not fear that our passion tonight or my regard for you requires a similar response. Yet…”

He placed his mouth on mine, and offered me a slow, searing kiss, turning my bones to ash.

“Do not believe that you cannot have this for a lifetime with a man most worthy and capable of it.”

“You speak then of yourself?”

“My actions speak for me, milady. Now, I must excuse myself, I’m afraid. But realize there is nothing more that I would rather do than take you into one of these fine rooms and satisfy your every need until dawn.”

“Why can you not reveal yourself to me?”

He slipped my chemise over my head and I realized my hands were free to do as I pleased. Nevertheless, something prevented me even as his hands had. His request I would honor, though it tormented me to do so.

I heard the rustle of him dressing and without another word, I heard the door open and shut.

I flung the silk scarf from my eyes and blinked adjusting once again to the dim light. I dressed in haste and, clutching the scarf, made for the hall, hoping to catch up to him.

I spied a man entering one of the bedrooms and hurried to the room, finding the door ajar. I slipped inside to see a man and woman involved in a passionate embrace. With the hope they hadn’t seen me, I eased shut the door and turned headlong into Mr. Rodin.

“I was just coming up to see you, my dear and bring you a message from your mistress.” He tipped his head and gave me a strange look. “She wants you to know that the auction is going splendidly.”

He studied me closely, reaching out to hold my shoulders.

“Are you well, Miss Cozette? You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”

I held my hand to my head. “No, Mr. Rodin, not seen, exactly. I fear I am terribly exhausted, do you mind if we speak another time?”

Damn the phantom lover! I now had no desire whatsoever to engage in a round of passion with Mr. Rodin, most unusual since I had anticipated that very tryst all evening. I studied his face, certain that if it had been him, there would be some sort of disheveled appearance to his clothes. There was none.

“Of course, if you’re quite sure. I will see you to your room.”

“Thank you, Mr. Rodin.” I glanced about for a sign of my secret lover, but saw nothing. So much left unsaid, so much uncertainty, except how I felt inside.

Yet he called me his lady.

~C.

We buried the master a week after returning from Lady Graham’s ball. The physician believed it to be complications of pneumonia. My mistress wears her black dutifully each day since his death, but has requested on more than one occasion that I let out a seam to allow her greater movement. She has not revealed to me what I already know, for I am certain she is with child and I cannot help but wonder what she will do now.

Master Archibald’s legal counsel has sent word ahead of his intended visit regarding the master’s estate. He is to visit this morning.

“Here is some tea, mum.” I placed it on the table in the parlor as requested. Glancing over, I noted my mistress twisting and turning the kerchief in her hand. Even as a widow, she was quite beautiful. Her fiery red hair was swept up neatly with a single plain black comb. “Will there be anything else, mum?” I fussed with the napkins and turned the cup handles so pouring would be of greater ease.

“Cozette, I must confess I am afraid of my situation.” She held her gaze straight ahead watching the front entrance with intensity. “I beg you do not judge me for what I am about to say—”

Her gaze turned to mine.

“I am with child.” She choked out the last words on a sob. For reasons I cannot explain I too sensed a lump in my throat.

“I fear that monster husband of mine has tossed me out of his will and we shall have no place to go.”

I knelt at her feet, attempting to set aside the pain in my heart for I suspected whose child she carried. I took her hand. “Don’t fret, mum, it will be well, you’ll see. If you cannot stay here, I’m quite certain Lady Graham will know what to do.”

Her teary blue gaze turned to mine, but she could only nod.

Later, I walked in the garden near the gazebo, excused from the parlor while Lady Archibald and the lawyer discussed matters in privacy.

“Hello, my pet.”

I spun on my heel to find François, debonair as ever, staring at me from the opposite side of the gazebo.

“Is your mistress in? Tragic news of course, with regard to your master. I’m sorry I was unable to attend the service.”

He sighed as he kept his eyes to the ground and walked around the gazebo to face me. His gaze rose to mine. True, he was handsome as ever, but I saw now a cunning that before I’d been blind to. His eyes sent a chill through me.

“Lady Archibald accepts your condolences, Lord Deavereux. I’ll be certain to convey them. She is presently detained in a meeting with Lord Archibald’s legal counsel.”

“Indeed?”

His gaze followed his hand as it brushed over my shoulder and down the length of my arm. I stepped back.

“Now Cozette, you and I are old friends, are we not?”

“I had heard that you were happily married, milord.” I eyed him warily as I took another step to distance myself from him.

“Well, yes, married at any rate. But she doesn’t match you in the bedroom, puppet.”

His predatory gaze held mine. “You have a son, I’m told?” Perhaps the detail was misplaced in his haze of lust.

“Yes, it’s true. The little bastard will own all that I have one day. And while on that topic I meant to speak to you about whether you’d visited with the good lady of the house about the matter of certain property?”

I thrust my chin defiantly toward him. “Not if you promised me the world would I dare help you acquire Willow Manor or any part of it.”

“Pity.” His tone was calm. “I’ll have to place a petition with the courts when the land goes up on the auction block. It’s a step of drudgery I’d hoped to avoid, but no matter. Since there are no heirs, it should proceed with haste.”

I opened my mouth, nearly spilling the contradiction to his comment, though in my heart I knew the mistress had not bedded with the master prior to the accident.

He gave a bored sigh and his apathy to the situation caused me to look upon him with greater disdain.

“Since I suspect you will toddle after the mistress as you are quite loyal, that will mean that you too will be leaving the manor. Mark my word, Cozette, I once checked into the procedures involved. Willow Manor will be mine.”

He took my arm, squeezing it as he drew me hard against his chest. With a sneer, he clasped his other arm around my waist, holding me firm.

“A parting kiss then, my sweet Cozette,” he growled, forcing my face to his.

He ground his lips to mine, trying to force my acceptance of his tongue. Both hands fisted, I pushed hard against his shoulders, shoving with all my might, my eyes squeezed shut in my determination. His hand grabbed my breast, and unlike the gentleness I knew now was only deception, he pinched me with such force that tears leaked from my closed lids. I would not succumb to his brutality.

Once more, I shoved against him. By some miracle, his body flung away from me. I blinked at my own strength, only to see Mr. Coven standing over Lord Deavereux, his fists clenched, waiting for the shocked man to get up from the ground.

“Now stable boy, you ought to know better. Do not make me have to put you in your place. Why not go back to tending to your horses. And let Miss Cozette and I have our chat?”

“That was no chat.” Mr. Coven spoke low and even.

Lord Deavereux stood, leisurely wiping the grass from his coat. He glanced at me, just before his right arm came around with a swing to Mr. Coven’s blind side. Mr. Coven plowed his fist into François’s gut, expelling a whoosh of air from his lips. With a groan he dropped to his knees.

Mr. Coven appeared as calm as if swinging a horseshoe as he lifted François’s chin and planted a right hook that sounded with a crack against the man’s jaw, sending him to the ground in a heap.

Mr. Coven shook his hand with a grimace and his gaze rose to mine.

“You really should pick better friends, Miss Cozette.”

I hugged his neck.

“I’ll see you to ruin, Coven. Just wait,” François mumbled through his bloodied mouth.

“I will be, sir, anytime you think you are ready.”

We left him there as we walked to the back door. I lifted his hand. “Come, your knuckles are bleeding. Let me see to them for you. It’s the least I can do.”

We stood at the back of the house. His dark hair blew across his patch and I lifted my hand to brush it away. The sound of Lord Deavereux’s horse galloping away caught his attention.

“You are all right then, Miss Cozette?”

I nodded, opening the back door, expecting him to follow.

“I have a great deal to do in the stables. I have a mare close to her time.”

“Of course. Thank you, Mr. Coven.”

“Miss Cozette?”

“Yes?” I stood at the back door, aware that our futures were uncertain. Mr. Coven being a man of sound virtue would surely ask my mistress to marry if she would have him.

“You’ll be more cautious of your suitors in the future?”

I thought of my glorious lover at Lady Graham’s ball, realizing that I might never know his name. I offered a weak smile. “Yes, Mr. Coven, I will.” I shut the door.

I was assisting Mrs. Farrington with preparing lunch when we heard a crash from the parlor. Together we rushed in and spying the mistress’s teacup shattered at her feet, I dropped to my knees to retrieve the precious pieces. I glanced at her stricken face and deduced she’d received news of her worst fear.

The lawyer looked contrite, though in a stuffy manner still. “Mum, what is it?” Mrs. Farrington placed her hands protectively on the mistress’s shoulders.

“It’s Robert. He’s had his will revised…” Her voice trailed off.

“There now, mum, it will be well,” I reiterated as I continued to pick up the fragile shards. I stood, preparing to get a broom.

“He has a son.”

I could not hide the shock on my face any more than the cook as we both turned toward the lawyer. The visibly nervous man, alone in a room of women, glanced at my mistress. She nodded, going back into her trancelike state.

He adjusted the glasses perched on the end of his nose.

“One Mr. Ernest Henley, heretofore named for discretion ary purposes as one Mr. William Coven.”

The china pieces in my hand clattered to the floor.

The man continued as though it was most ordinary for him to upturn people’s lives. “Son of Willow Marie Henley and Robert Archibald, was born out of wedlock, August 4, 1847. Mr. Archibald’s parents would not permit the marriage and so Mrs. Willow ran away, had her child and attempted to make a life for them on her own. She took ill a few years back and the boy went to work at an orphanage. Miss Henley sought Master Archibald’s whereabouts but by then he’d married. Her illness was such that knowing she would not recover, instead she summoned Lord Archibald to her hospital bed and told him of his son. She then told him where to find the boy and asked him to care for him.”

Deep inside had I not known? His mannerisms, the books, his smile? Now he was to inherit his father’s estate and his stepmother was carrying his child! I thought my stomach would turn inside out.

I didn’t know whether to scream for joy or kill him with my bare hands. “May I please be excused, mum, on a most urgent matter?”

Glassy-eyed, my mistress’s gaze met mine. She nodded.

I ran as fast as my legs would carry me to the stables, bursting through the ivy-covered entrance, my gaze searching for Mr. Coven—Ernest. I was confused by which name to call for him.

“Mr. Coven!”

He sauntered from one of the stalls, dipping his hands into a bucket of water, and wiping his hands with a towel. “Miss Cozette? What brings you out here? Is Deavereux back?”

I had no control of the rage burning inside of me. I could think of one thing only—Ernest’s lies. Before I could think twice my hand reached out and connected with a sound smack against his cheek, making my palm sting.

Shock registered at first as he touched the spot now red with my hand imprint. His expression darkened in anger. That was fine. I had plenty left.

“Bloody hell!” he roared in response. “What was that for?” Fury etched on his face, his jaw ticked where the blush of my hand remained.

“How could you be so cruel?” I pushed each word from my lips. My teeth began to pound from the fury seething inside me.

“What the hell are you talking about?” He groped the side of his face, shifting his jaw as if I’d done greater harm.

“You liar! You know full well what I mean!” I went at him then with both fists, releasing my frustration on his arms, his chest, whatever was left unguarded.

He fought off my strikes, finally catching my wrists, but not my feet. I kicked him soundly in one shin and then the other yanking free of his grasp when he doubled over in pain.

“Is there a purpose to this unruly behavior?” he asked. “What have I done other than save your hide from the likes of Deavereux?”

“No more of lies,
Ernest,
” I shouted. My nails dug into the flesh of my palms. I held him with my heated gaze, waiting for the knowledge to sink in. If he denied the truth, I could not be responsible for my actions.

“I can explain—”

“Truly, Ernest? After all this time, you can explain?”

“Yes, I have my reasons…”

I closed my eyes, hoping to find some reason not to walk away from him. Yet my heart wouldn’t let me. “I have been under your nose for nearly two years and you’ve kept silent. Why? Why would you do such a cruel thing?”

He took a step toward me and I heeded his advance with a stern look of warning. “Don’t come near me.”

“If you will calm down, I can and will explain. My reasons are valid, if perhaps misguided in your eyes.”

“Valid?” I could not believe my ears! “I should hope they are, Ernest. Do you have any idea what I suffered those years I waited for you? And then I prayed you wouldn’t come, so that you wouldn’t see what I’d become.” My head throbbed with the swirl of emotions inside me. “And you have been
here
all along.”

“I am sorry, Cozette.”

I raised my hands to thwart his apology. “Save your apologies. I just want to know when you realized it was me?”

He rubbed at his jaw, staring at me as if assessing my mental state.

“That first night? The next week? For God’s sake, tell me the truth!”

He averted his gaze from mine.

“Look at me, Ernest, and tell me when.”

“The night you arrived,” he said quietly.

“God in heaven. If there is one,” I whispered in awe. My stomach churned. All the time that was wasted. Now it was too late to change all that had happened. Did he know he was going to be a father?

“Cozette, you’d changed.” Your face, your hair, clothes…You were covered with filth—I barely recognized you. I wasn’t sure at first, but your sharp tongue prompted a closer look. After you’d bathed then I—”

“A closer look? Was that little show delightful for you, Ernest?” The memory of his shocked expression that night appeared in my brain.

His expression went somber. “It was hell, if you must know.”

“Good,” I snapped. “I’m glad.”

“Cozette, I wanted to tell you, but I’d broken my promise to you. What right did I have to interfere in your life as it was now?”

“That is no excuse. You could have said something, anything.” Venom coursed through my veins. I didn’t want to forgive the hurt he’d dealt me.

“True, but I saw Deavereux coming from the laundry room that night. From the look on your face, I knew I’d lost you to him. There was no way I could compete.”

Neither of us spoke for a moment. He looked at me then, the anguish of regret etched on his rugged face.

“I knew you were sleeping with him. I told myself that you knew what you wanted. I thought perhaps we could build a new relationship, that in time we’d be friends—”

“Friends? Based on what, Ernest? Half-truths? I may have done many things that I am not proud of, but I have never lied to you.”

His head tipped with a questioning gaze. “Yet you would lie to yourself?”

“I don’t understand your meaning.” My heart ached as I realized the loss of the trust we’d once shared.

“Deavereux. I may have only one eye, but I could see how you pined after him. I knew he would use you. His kind always does.”

“So, you let him use me, instead of coming forward to warn me?” I wanted to hit something. Despite what I’d learned about François, I would not punish myself for my stolen moments of feeling desired. They were all I had. And sweet Mr. Rodin was the only man who’d come close to Ernest in my heart. Perhaps there was still time to go away with him.