The Disappearing Duchess (11 page)

‘I do not fear you,’ Lucinda said, looking at him earnestly. ‘It was a part of the reason I hesitated to accept your offer, Justin. I wondered if I might not be able to respond, but when you kissed me I discovered that it made me want to be in your arms. If you are patient with me, I shall try to respond as you would wish.’

‘You need do nothing but be yourself,’ he said softly
and bent his head to caress her mouth with his own. His kiss was sweet and tender, drawing an instant response from her. She put her arms about his neck, her fingers moving at his nape, her lips parted on a breath of pleasure. ‘You are so sweet. You taste like honey and wine and you smell divine.’

‘I want to please you,’ Lucinda said and touched his cheek. ‘Show me how to be all the things you want, Justin—in bed and in the life we lead. Help me to make you proud of me, teach me what your duchess should know.’

He gave a little groan. ‘I was a beast to say those things to you, Lucinda. Please forgive me. I was hurt and struck out, but I do care for you. I want you and—I am proud of you. You managed everything faultlessly this weekend, with little help from me.’

‘Hush, forget it and love me,’ she murmured. ‘I want so much for us to be as we were before…’

Justin moaned softly and bent to lift her in his arms. He carried her to the bed and laid her down, untying the strings of her robe and letting it fall open so that his eyes could feast on her beauty. Her skin was creamy and soft, unblemished despite the child she’d borne, her nipples dark, her breasts full and firm. Watching her at the ball as she laughed and danced with the bevy of admirers she had gained so swiftly, he had felt jealous and envious of the way she smiled at her friends—especially Andrew Lanchester.

She seemed so at ease with him, laughter lighting
her eyes as she looked up at him. It had pained Justin to see the laughter fade as she met his own gaze. He had realised then that he had demanded too much, crushed her spirit, hurting her by his harshness when all he wanted was to hold her and kiss her, to lie with her as his wife.

‘It is all I want,’ Justin said and discarded his robe. He kneeled on the bed beside her, lifting her to help her out of the satin robe so that she lay naked amongst the sheets. Then he bent his head and began to kiss her breasts, caressing them with the tip of his tongue so that her nipples peaked and hardened. Lying beside her, he stroked the smooth arch of her back as he pulled her towards him. His hand moved down her thigh as he caressed and fondled her, his lips seeking hers in a long hungry kiss.

Lucinda did not flinch from him, though she did not reach out to caress him in return. Justin longed for her to touch and stroke him as he stroked her, but she lay quiescent, trembling a little in his arms as he loved her, though once or twice her lips parted on a sigh.

When his hand moved between her thighs she stilled, her eyes opening. He saw the fear she was trying to hide and he kissed her, moving his fingers slowly, gently, giving her time to discover that a man’s intimate touch could be pleasant rather than a humiliating punishment. Gradually, she relaxed again, a little sighing moan leaving her lips.

Lucinda would not deny him if he took her now, but
despite his hunger and the burning need in his loins, Justin knew that if he took their loving all the way that night he might lose something precious. He wanted her to be eager for his touch and he suspected that she was nervous, steeling herself for what was to come, though determined not to refuse him. In his haste to make love to her he had neglected to consider her feelings sufficiently. Because of what had happened to Lucinda when she was sixteen he must take great care not to hurt her.

‘I believe we shall need a little longer to know each other,’ he said. ‘Tonight I shall pleasure you, but I shall not enter you, Lucinda. You must learn to trust me and welcome my touch before we become truly one.’

‘I do trust you,’ she said and pressed her face against his chest. ‘I’m sorry if I am a disappointment to you, Justin.’

‘Hush, my sweet. Do not weep. Let me show you that there is pleasure in loving and many ways to please the one you love.’

Lucinda lay looking up at him with wide eyes as he bent his head and began to kiss and caress her with tongue and lips and the sensitive tips of his fingers. As Justin kissed her breasts, her navel, licking delicately at the tender flesh between her thighs, and then the most secret centre of her femininity, she quivered and trembled, giving a little moaning cry. Yet still her hands lay unmoving by her sides and she did not touch him.

As she lay trembling in his arms, he saw tears on her cheeks.

‘Forgive me if I have distressed you. I wanted only to show you that it is not usually the way it was for you that night. I wanted to teach you how to find pleasure in the marriage bed.’

‘I wish I could be the shy virgin bride you wanted,’ she said in a muffled voice, her face against his shoulder. ‘I must be such a disappointment to you.’

‘No, my love, you are not,’ he said and drew her close to him, stroking her back. ‘Hush, Lucinda, do not weep. I am sorry. I should have waited until you were ready.’

‘I shall forget,’ she vowed, her words distorted because she had buried into his side like a little kitten seeking comfort. ‘I shall make you proud of me. I shall learn to be the wife you need.’

‘Go to sleep,’ he said and kissed her hair. ‘We shall do much better when you are used to me.’

* * *

Lucinda lay still beside him and after a while realised that he was sleeping. He had one arm over her, holding her to him, and she found that comforting, but she was afraid she had let him down yet again. Justin had been kind, but he needed more from her. Something she had not known how to give.

His kisses and his touch had made her feel that she wanted him to love her, but then she’d lain like a block of wood not knowing how to respond. Her father had called her a shameless hussy and her grandmother had ridiculed and beaten her for showing any emotion other than contrition.

Justin had been gentle and patient with her that night,
but she knew he’d wanted something more from her. His touch had made her cry out, giving her an exquisite pleasure, but she had given him little in return. She sincerely wished to be a good wife and please him in all ways, but something inside her had held back, perhaps because she feared to be hurt, not so much physically but in other ways.

She loved Justin, wanted him to love her, but she knew she could not measure up to his high standards. He expected so much of her and she had failed him in every way.

If he discovered that she had lied to him about her daughter, if he knew that she had been visiting her daughter in the woods or guessed what she meant to do now, he would be so angry.

* * *

Lucinda lay sleepless as the first rays of dawn penetrated the crack in the curtains. It might be better if she took Angela and ran away again. Surely Justin would be relieved to be rid of a wife who could never be what he wanted? He might be angry or hurt for a time, but then he would be glad she’d gone; he would divorce her and marry again.

A little voice inside her urged her to leave before it was too late and her husband discovered what a wretch she was, yet she could not bear to leave him. She bent over him as he slept, her fingers itching to stroke his body as he had stroked hers. She had longed to touch him, to kiss him and tangle her legs about him as he gave her pleasure, but she was afraid that he might think
her wanton. If she showed desire and need, Justin might think she was shameless, as her father had called her.

It might have been better had they never met. Tears trickled down her cheeks. She loved the man she had married and, as he kissed and caressed her so tenderly, giving so much and taking nothing, she had felt that he was once more that man. Her guilt at deceiving him was sharp. Justin did not deserve to be cheated and lied to—and that was what she was doing by bringing her bastard into his house.

If he discovered the truth, he would never forgive her.

Lucinda crept from the bed and went into the dressing room, where she put on a simple gown that fastened in front and needed no assistance from her maid. She looked back at Justin, who was still sleeping as she left the room, closing the door carefully behind her.

Trying not to feel guilty, Lucinda put her regrets from her mind. She must fetch Angela and Nanny before most of the servants were up and about. Once they were installed in the attics Alice could tell people that the child was Lucinda’s cousin’s. In time Justin might discover what she’d done, but perhaps he would believe the story.

‘She seemed a little better last night,’ Nanny said. ‘It was warmer, of course. I think once she is in a dry place she will soon begin to thrive. She has already begun to fill out, Lucinda—it is just her chest. The damp of this cottage does not suit her.’

‘The attic rooms I have found for you are warm and dry. When the nights are cold, perhaps I can move you into the nursery where you can have a fire.’

Nanny frowned at her. ‘You have not told your husband. Do you not think he will be angry when he discovers what you’ve hidden from him?’

‘Yes, I fear he may. It may be that we shall have to leave Avonlea and find somewhere else to live, but then we shall look for a small town and I shall take up the trade of seamstress. Justin has given me a generous allowance each month since our marriage, which is paid into a bank and I have hardly touched. I dare say he would not ask me to return it if we separated.’

Nanny shook her head doubtfully. ‘This is not like you, Lucinda. You have always been honest and candid in your dealings with others. I know you care for this man. It might break your heart to leave him.’

‘Would you have me abandon my child to others?’ Lucinda’s eyes pricked with tears. ‘I thought she had died at birth and I mourned her, though I had accepted it. When I first saw her—so pale and thin and ill treated, I could not bear it, Nanny. She was born of a cruel rape, but she was not to blame. Yes, it would break my heart to leave Justin, but he does not need me as Angela does.’

‘I cannot deny the child needs you. When she is well she plays happily enough for hours, but when she is feeling unwell she cries for you. I try to comfort her, but it is you she wants.’

‘We must go quickly,’ Lucinda said. ‘If we are swift,
no one will know you are in the house for a while and perhaps I may persuade Justin to let me have my cousin’s child stay with us.’

‘You should ask him sooner rather than later,’ Nanny warned. ‘If he truly cares for you, I do not think he would tell you to abandon the child—but a decent house with servants and warm dry accommodation might be provided somewhere.’

‘Somewhere I would not be able to visit very often,’ Lucinda said and her head lifted, an expression of determination in her eyes. ‘If Justin cares for me, he should accept my child. I would have told him if he had been more reasonable at the start.’

‘Well, you know your heart best,’ Nanny said, but shook her head.

‘Bring your bundles and I shall carry Angela,’ Lucinda said and went up the cottage stairs to lift the sleeping child from her bed. Angela stirred and murmured something, but did not wake as she was carried down the stairs and out of the house.

* * *

Justin woke and slid his hand across the bed. Lucinda was not there and the sheets were cold. She must have risen some time earlier. Her perfume lingered and haunted him, but he wanted to find her warm soft body lying close to him, to make love to her again in that first luxuriously sleepy moment after waking. He knew that she was still nervous of the act of love, which was understandable after what had happened to her, but she had responded to his touch. Little did she know what it
had cost him to refrain from taking his own pleasure of her. He was not sure how long he could control his need to bury himself in her sweet warmth, but perhaps she might be ready to accept him next time?

Rising, he went into the dressing room. She was not there, but he thought that a cloak she had left lying over a chair had gone. Where was she? It was not yet eight o’clock.

Had she gone for one of her long walks? He was thoughtful, edgy and frustrated as he went through his own dressing room into his bedchamber, his mind beginning to search for answers to so many questions. What did Lucinda do on her walks? She had mentioned meeting Andrew Lanchester on more than one occasion, but did she go to meet him or someone else? Did she have a lover? Was that why she had lain unresponsive, not rejecting his touch, seeming to welcome him and yet giving little of her inner self?

Justin had been patient with her. He did not wish to hurt her after the torment she must have endured the night she was raped. He had refrained from the final act because he wanted her to welcome him with no reserves. It would be wrong to force her when she was clearly not ready.

Perhaps he should have waited longer before attempting to make it a true marriage? Watching her at the ball had made him realise how much he wanted her, but he had expected too much. Women had always been eager
and responsive to his touch, but Lucinda had suffered in a way that most could not contemplate.

He was a clumsy fool. If he wanted the shy trusting girl he had wed to return to him, he must be gentle with her. He must take his time, court her and make her love him again. He must curb his impatience and think of her needs, not his own, because he cared for her more than he’d realised. He’d been angry and harsh because he was disappointed in her lack of trust when she ran away. Now he must curb his temper and show his wife that he admired and cared for her; he must teach her to love him, but slowly and with infinite care.

Dressing in riding clothes, Justin went downstairs to the hall just as his wife entered the front door, which was held for her by one of the footmen. She gave the man one of her delightful smiles, which made Justin irrationally jealous. His good intentions fled. Once, those smiles had been reserved for him, but now it seemed she smiled at everyone except her husband.

He spoke more sharply than he intended, ‘Where have you been? I woke and you were gone.’