A Good Rake is Hard to Find (22 page)

“Easy,” Freddy said, moving his attention to her other breast, then to her relief, sliding his hand down over her gown and raising both it and the petticoats beneath. She was nearly trembling by the time his hand touched her inner thigh. Then, with aching slowness, he moved his hand up and stroked a finger over her aching quim.

The pleasure was so intense, she nearly wept. And when he sucked her breast and stroked his finger into her, one, then the other, in a steady rhythm, Leonora had no choice but to give herself up to it. Again and again, he sucked her, stroked into her. And she moved in a desperate rhythm against him until, finally, something broke within her and she felt herself break apart into a million tiny shards of light and fly up into the universe.

She came back to herself some time later, collapsed against Freddy's chest. A lassitude unlike anything she'd ever known weighed down her limbs until she felt like she'd never stand again.

“Are you all right?” he asked, leaning his head back to look at her as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I rather think that might have been your first time to experience
le petit mort
.”

Though she'd lain with the father of her child, she'd not known when she was with him that it was possible to feel this way. She'd just assumed that it was the way of things. Men enjoyed lovemaking, but women didn't.

What had just happened was more than she'd ever thought possible. Perhaps Freddy was just more skilled at such things than her first lover had been. He was certainly a better man.

“That was my first time,” she admitted, lowering her lashes. “I have put … that is to say, I've touched … myself, before. But that's a bit different, isn't it?”

Her voice was low and she felt absurdly embarrassed for all that he'd just had his hand up her skirt a moment before.

When she looked up, she saw that his eyes had darkened to an almost navy blue. “I would like to see that sometime,” he said in a hoarse voice.

“Oh,” she gasped, suddenly aware of the hardness of him pressed against her thigh. Blushing, she continued, “What about your…?” She gestured in the general direction of his rampant body.

He smiled crookedly and pulled her hand up to his mouth and kissed it. “Not your problem,” he said with a laugh. “We'll deal with that another time.”

It was far more than she'd expected, and Leonora was reminded for the second time that afternoon just how different Freddy was from Anthony. She knew with certainty that Freddy would never make demands on her that made her uncomfortable. Nor would he put his own needs before her own, as Anthony had.

Tears gathering in her eyes, she kissed him. They lay there together for a bit, a comfortable silence between them.

“Tell me what happened,” he said suddenly, his expression turning serious.

For a moment she thought he was talking about Anthony, and she racked her brain to figure out how he'd found out her secret. Then she realized he was talking about the incident earlier in Hermione's carriage.

“It was terrifying,” she admitted, shameful relief washing over her at the realization her secret was safe.

“But Hermione handled it admirably,” she went on, focusing on the topic at hand. “I was so proud of her.”

“Remind me to send her a new whip or gloves or something,” he said, linking their hands together. “She proved herself an outstanding driver today, though I don't know that any thanks I give her can be enough.”

“You aren't really going to challenge your cousin, are you?” Leonora asked in a soft voice. She wanted desperately to repeat her admonition that he not do so, but their betrothal—for all that it had brought them closer together—was still a faux one. What had just happened between them notwithstanding. And she had no right to demand it of him. All she could do was ask. “I truly would not wish for anything to happen to you.”

“Neither would I,” he replied firmly. “But my cousin seems to be under the impression that he is allowed to place other people in danger at his own will. That is unacceptable.”

“Could you not, perhaps, have a discussion with him?” she asked, hating how tentative she sounded. “I mean, warn him off without engaging in fisticuffs or a duel or anything?”

“I could,” he replied. “And I'll probably do that first.”

“But?” she asked, not liking the direction this was going in.

“But,” he replied, “that would hardly teach my cousin the lesson he so richly deserves. In fact, I think he deserves to feel my sword against his throat for what he did to you this afternoon.”

“If it was him,” she said softly. “We don't know that yet.”

“True enough,” he said with a nod. “Which is why I won't challenge him just yet. No matter how much I might wish to.”

She pulled back from him and looked into his eyes. And was thrilled to see that he was sincere. “You don't know how relieved I am to hear you say that. I don't think I could bear it if something happened to you because of me.”

“Let's get something straight,” he said, his expression serious. “Any fight between my cousin and me would be between my cousin and me. Not you. He is responsible for his own actions. So, if I were to fight him, it would not be your fault. Do you understand?”

“I suppose. Though I still hope you'll not duel with him all the same.”

“I can't make any promises,” he responded. “But what I can promise is that I will not do so without warning you first.”

“Will you also agree to let me continue to work to find some way to bring him to justice for Jonny's sake?” she asked carefully.

It was clear that he'd been expecting this. “I won't banish you,” he agreed. “But you must promise to do what I ask when I think your life is in danger. I've known my cousin since we were children and I understand on an intuitive level just what he's willing to do in order to get his way. And unfortunately, there isn't much he won't try.”

Relieved, she nodded. “I will not needlessly endanger myself. Especially not when your cousin is involved.”

“I suppose that's all I can ask for,” he said with a sigh.

Then, turning the subject, he said, “I want you to know that I intend to marry you, Leonora.”

Her heart constricted. Unable to look away from him, she saw in his eyes that he was serious. It would always come back to this, she feared.

And the danger was that she was losing the strength to resist him.

“Freddy,” she said, pressing a staying hand against his chest. “I'm not sure I can—”

But he stopped her with a kiss. “Don't answer now,” he said. “I can see I'll need time to persuade you.”

It was more than that. So much more than simply allowing herself to be persuaded.

But it had been an eventful day and she was willing to linger in the sweet in-between space where they were now.

“All right,” she said, finally. “We can wait until things settle down a bit.”

The clock down the hall struck the five o'clock hour. Realizing how much time had passed since Hermione and Mainwaring had left, Leonora scrambled off Freddy's lap and straightened her gown.

She must have been mad to get so carried away with him right here where anyone in the house might have stumbled in upon them.

“Quick,” she hissed, “tie your cravat before Greentree comes looking for me!”

An amused glint in his eye, Freddy tied his neckcloth in a loose knot and wordlessly turned her so that he could refasten her gown.

When they were once again decently clothed, they sank back onto the sofa.

They were still sitting too close together for propriety, discussing Frederick's plans for Mainwaring and the Duke of Trent to look into some of the other club members, when a cough sounded from the doorway.

“I beg your pardon, Miss Craven,” said George, the first footman. “This invitation just arrived and Mr. Greentree said I was to bring it to you at once.”

She gave Freddy a speaking glance then took the invitation from the young man.

“Thank you, George,” she said with a smile. “That will be all.”

When he was gone, Leonora took the heavily embossed page from him and opened it. She'd expected an unremarkable request for her presence at some fete or other—the season was in full swing, after all—but to her surprise, when she opened the folded page, a glance at the bottom told her it was from Sir Gerard and Lady Melisande.

“Look,” she said to Freddy, who had gotten up when the footman entered and now studied the fire as if it held all the secrets of the universe within its flames. “Your cousin and his wife have invited me to a house party at their estate on the south coast. And it says that they've extended an invitation to you, as well.”

That got his attention. “Estate? I was unaware that there was such a thing as a Fincher estate. Clearly there are more than just the funds he uses to furnish his house and clothe his wife in my cousin's bank account.”

Leonora showed him the letter. “It's called South Haven,” she continued. “Could it have been something that Melisande brought to the marriage? One of her father's unentailed properties perhaps?” Gerard's wife was called Lady Melisande because her father had been the Earl of Belhaven and her dowry had been quite large. It wasn't impossible it had included an estate, as well. “Or maybe Sir Gerard purchased it with her marriage portion.”

Freddy looked up from the invitation. “I don't know,” he said thoughtfully. “My mother will know more about the settlements than I do. I was out of the country when they married. And even then, it's not the sort of thing I'd have paid much attention to. Gerard has never been my favorite topic of conversation.”

“And here I thought there was such an abundance of family feeling between you,” Leonora said with an arch look. “If that is the case, then perhaps we should decline this generous invitation.”

“Not a chance, Nora,” he said, leaning down to kiss her. “Pack your bags and prepare yourself for a journey to the coast.”

“Just as easy as that?” she asked, a bit startled by his haste. “Don't you need to make preparations or something?”

“We won't leave until the day after tomorrow,” he said with a shrug. “And by then I'll have had time to make all the arrangements necessary. I hope you won't be one of those tiresome ladies who lingers over her every choice of bauble.”

“Hardly.” Leonora laughed.

“So,” she continued, sobering. “Does this invitation mean your cousin wishes to remove us from our friends and family so that he can do away with us?”

Freddy shook his head. “It's more likely he's going to attempt to persuade us that he's not the monster he's painted. And I believe I heard a couple of the other men talking about this party at the fight the other day. Now their discussion makes more sense.”

“All right then,” she said with a nod. “I'll ready myself for a journey.”

She only hoped it would get them closer to prying a confession out of Sir Gerard.

For she feared if she spent much more time with Freddy, she'd lose what little willpower she had left.

 

Sixteen

The drive to Basildon was a relatively short one from London, only a day and a half in Freddy's coach and four, which he had borrowed once again from Archer.

Leonora and her aunt Hortense, who was acting as chaperone, rode inside while the ladies' maids and Freddy's valet followed in another coach with their bags. In keeping with his role as a member of the Anarchists, Freddy led the procession in his curricle.

The weather was, thankfully, good, and they stopped only to change the horses despite Aunt Hortense's complaints, which Leonora was forced to endure inside the carriage. Freddy suggested trying to persuade the older lady to ride with the servants, but Leonora had shrugged off the offer. Her aunt's complaints, though they did seem to annoy Leonora, did not seem to be enough to induce her to ride alone.

Freddy wondered fleetingly if that was because she feared he would choose to come inside the vehicle instead.

She needn't have worried, however. It had been a long time since he'd been able to drive any measurable distance, and it would have taken a great deal of inducement to force him inside on such a fine day.

They turned into the rambling drive of South Haven late in the evening a couple of days later, when the sun was just on the brink of dipping into the horizon. With a keen eye, Freddy watched as he drove past his cousin's lands. They looked to be well-tended acres of farmland and once again he was surprised at his cousin's seemingly boundless supply of bounty.

When finally the poplar-lined drive ended and a half-circle drive before a grand Roman portico took its place, he saw that they were one of many guests arriving that evening.

“Cousin!” shouted Sir Gerard from the top step as he waved in Frederick's direction. “Well met! How pleased I am you've come.”

Saluting the other man with his whip, Freddy leaped easily to the ground, and hurried to open the door to the carriage so that he might help Leonora and her aunt down.

“You must get me away from her,” Leonora said in a low hiss. “She talked the entire journey. I never knew one woman could possibly find something to discuss about every subject in Mr. Webster's encyclopedia. She read aloud from it.”

“I vow, Lord Frederick,” Aunt Hortense declared as she stepped down from the carriage, “I believe you did not slow for a moment all the way from London. Were you aware that you were carrying an elderly passenger with aching bones and sensitive nerves?”

Despite her complaints, the older lady climbed nimbly up the front steps of South Haven and fell upon her maid who had hurried from the servants' carriage, which had stopped not far behind them. “Ah, Johnson, I should like a bath and a glass of sherry at once. Sir Gerard, Lady Melisande, I hope you will not mind my insistence upon resting these old bones, but when one reaches a certain age great respect must be paid to them or else they intrude at the most inconvenient moments.”