An Absent Wife (14 page)

Annoyed and restless, Lysander sat in Evie’s parlor.  He didn’t want to be there, but things would only get worse the longer he left it, and he’d left it long enough as it was.  He’d had to buy her a trinket to mollify her displeasure at having been ignored.  But the truth was that he didn’t want to be there.  Evie was pacing, ranting at how embarrassed she felt at being completely overlooked.

It was her passion and liveliness that had drawn him in the beginning, but he’d grown tired of the dramatics, even before he’d left for India.

“You will, of course, be divorcing her,” Evie said, her russet curls bouncing as she sharply turned.  “Have you started proceedings?  I was so happy for you when the news came that she’d died.  And then for it not to be true.  How fate is cruel.”

“There had been a misunderstanding on behalf of the Colonial Office,” he said, but he wasn’t sure why he was justifying it.  He didn’t want to talk about Adele with
Evie. 

“You are a saint letting her stay in your house.”  He hadn’t told
Evie that was the case, which only went to prove she knew more about his life and goings on than the things he told her.  “You should free yourself of her at the earliest opportunity.  You deserve so much better.” 

He knew full well that his wife’s death had been seen as nothing but an opportunity to
Evie, who fully intended to do everything in her power to take on the position herself.  He didn’t want to hear Evie’s opinion of his wife.  Neither she nor Harry had a true understanding of the relationship between them—not that he could claim to understand their relationship either.

“While she is here,” he said.  “It is only right that I not
dishonor her.”

“
Dishonor her?” Evie said, completely astounded.  “She ran off with another man and you had to go retrieve her, and you are worried about dishonoring her?  Lysander, darling, you are too soft-hearted and foolish for your own good.  You cannot let yourself be deceived by her; she will say anything to have influence over you.  Can’t you see that?”

Taking a last sip of the drink
Evie’s housekeeper had given him, he bristled at the characterisation of both himself and Adele.  “Irrespective, I will not be delighting in your company while my wife is in situ.”

Evie
stopped her pacing and turned to him.  “You cannot be serious.”

“While my wife is in my house, I will not
dishonor her,” he repeated, standing and placing the drink he was holding on the side table.

“I might not be
here when you decide otherwise,” Evie said tartly.

“As you wish.”
  But he knew it wouldn’t be that simple.  Evie saw a chance for marriage with his divorce and she wouldn’t give up on that fact until the bitter end.  “By your leave.”  He left, feeling relief as he exited her house.  Sadly, Evie wasn’t done—it would never be that easy, and she would play on his guilt and courtesy for everything she could.  He would never marry her—not for the fact that she wasn’t unsullied, because, unlike some, he truly didn’t hold that against her.  He just didn’t like her enough to want to spend each day with her.  But that wasn’t an outcome that Evie would accept.  Again he wondered why nothing was simple when it came to women?

His thoughts left
Evie behind with notable speed, and he turned his attention to the troublesome woman in his house.  What he’d said was right; he didn’t feel right dishonoring her while she was here in London and he certainly wouldn’t engage with other women while they were to conduct intimacy.

Lysander found Adele pacing around in the garden.  When they’d first arrived back in London, he’d forbidden her from leaving the house.  In hindsight, it was perhaps a brutish request, but he just wasn’t sure he could trust her to return.

Clearing his throat to catch her attention, he walked toward her.  “You may go to Hyde Park if you wish,” he said and she nodded her acknowledgement.  Again he felt brutish, exorcising his power over her.  She didn’t strictly have to comply, although compliance was expected in a wife, but he supposed he was testing her.  “I have given your proposal due consideration,” he said.  Her eyes sought his,
then she lowered them to the ground, placing a barrier between them.  “As you know, an heir is a requirement for someone in my position, so it would represent an eventuality that would please us both.”  Her eyes came back to him and he saw hope and relief there, while noting his own reaction to having pleased her.  Looking away, he cleared his throat again.  “You will have to leave your door unlocked for me in the evenings.”

“Yes,” she said. 

Feeling goose bumps, he reacted in a way he could neither describe nor justify.  Suddenly, he felt distinctly uncomfortable.  He was far from a prude, but this felt extremely awkward—perhaps because the purpose of this was conception and not pleasure.  But that didn’t change the fact that since their brief stay in Venice, he’d had forbidden thoughts about what it would be like laying with his wife.  Unwanted thoughts returned to what he’d done when he’d first found her in Adelaide, but he dismissed the uncomfortable and confronting thoughts, ones that countervened the man he wanted to be—the man he thought he was.  He did hope she had forgiven the trespass.  “Unless it should prove too confronting for you.”

“I am a grown woman; I think I shall manage.”

The statement actually pleased him more than he’d expected, having worried that he’d deeply damaged her through his actions. 

Exhaling, he left a weight lift off him.  He’d dealt with the proposal and they’d agreed on a course of action.  He had probably left her a little too long without an answer—not on purpose; he just hadn’t been ready to completely give himself over to the issue—including the fact that he would have
to acknowledge his wife publicly in the process.

He didn’t bother lighting more than one lamp, making his study darker than he usually kept it.  Supper had been an uncomfortable and drawn-out affair, but it might have had more to do with his own tension than anything untoward with the actual meal.  Adele had been flushed throughout—giving her a lovely countenance—which had actually made his tension worse.

Taking a deep swig of his drink, he wondered what she was doing.  He expected that she would be anticipating him tonight.  He was more ne
rvous than he cared to admit and he tried to rid himself of it for fear that he may not be able to perform his duty.  But the excitement and anticipation flowed in his blood no matter what he did, and he needed to take care in case he drank too much.  Being unable to perform would be highly embarrassing. 

Unbidden, the spectre of Lieutenant
Ellingwood moved around his consciousness like mist.  As much as he tried not to think of it, Adele would compare him to her lover—someone she cared about, likely whose touch she craved.  Not even his anger could compete with his nervousness tonight, but there was no use sitting there and deliberating.  He wasn’t one to shirk something due to discomfort.

The knock on her door sounded louder than it was in the quiet house.  Trying the door, it gave readily in his hand and he paused for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts and get his breathing under tighter reign.

The room was dark, only
a single candle lighting the space and he found Adele sitting at the head of the bed, her hair undone and flowing around her shoulders, covered by a white nightgown.  He paused for a moment.  She looked almost ephemeral like a wood sprite, sitting there with her legs tucked under her, her hands resting in her lap.  Her eyes were large and bright as she saw him.  He had an irrational urge to run over to her and kiss her, but turned to close the door silently behind him.

“Am I unwelcome?” he asked when he turned back to her.

Something crossed her brow for an instant, but he couldn’t tell what it was.  “No,” she responded.

Feeling
a moment of hesitation, he moved closer to the bed, praying to whatever god it was that saw to such things—that his member would remain hard this evening and not embarrass him.  His member had been anticipating the evening since he’d returned to the house in the afternoon, but it hadn’t become fully ready and he knew it wasn’t right now either—the tension of the situation creating a dampening effect.

Not entirely sure how to proceed, he sat down on the bed
after removing his vest.  Adele moved herself along the bed to lie down, her knees tightly together and her ankles crossing as she did. 

He’d never seen his wife naked, but
then he’d never seen her in any state of undress, with the exception of their wedding night, which he didn’t actually remember well due to the copious amounts of drink he’d had in his anger and frustration.  The white nightgown showed her curves well.  Her breasts were full and firm, and his body responded to the sight.

There would be no comfortable or fluid way of doing this and he just had to get on with it.  Moving, he kneeled half way down the bed, unsure exactly how to proceed.  Adele moved as well, positioning herself toward him, pulling
her nightgown up her legs, automatically drawing his eyes to the revelation of skin along her thighs.  For a moment, he was transfixed.  As it turned out, there were no issues with his body achieving a proper state.

The noise of every moment sounded against the walls in the otherwise silent room as he
freed himself and moved to the right position.  Drawing a breath, he proceeded to push into her.  Her body yielded slowly to him, allowing him into its delicious heat, divesting him of any other thoughts or concerns but the sensations that started flowing through him.  Perhaps it was the length of time since he’d been with a woman or the provocative feeling that he was doing something forbidden, but he couldn’t seem to muster his usual control.  His body acted on its own, pushing into her with smooth, hard strokes, without him being able to exercise much control over himself.  A shuddering release overtook him quickly and surprisingly, making him strive to get himself as deep into her as possible.

He didn’t feel right laying down on her, even though he struggled to stay stable as the tension and resolution drained him.  He felt disappointed.  It had all happened so quickly; he felt
that he hadn’t even started accomplishing the things he wanted to—like a secret garden had been opened to him and he’d just rushed through it.  But at least he hadn’t embarrassed himself; he’d completed the task and had proven himself strong and resolute in the process.

Carefully, he withdrew from her, feeling sorry it was over so quickly.  As he did, Adele pushed down her nightgown over her thighs—depriving him of any real look at her.  He hadn’t even laid a hand on her throughout the entire process.  But he wasn’t here to look or to explore; he’d completed his task and with a nod, he turned and quietly left.

Still undressed, Adele sat at her dressing table, brushing her hair with slow, fluid movements.  The mild morning sun shone through the windows as she prayed for her own fertility.
  With excitement, she realised it could be that she was with child already.  Their time together the previous evening had been uncomfortable and awkward, but there was still something in her that responded with pride.  After all those years of being untouched and rejected, her husband had lain with her.  It had been quick and to the point, but that was how her husband was in most things, she’d learnt.  Again, she told herself not to read anything into it, just as she’d told herself the previous evening.  It was a necessary interaction and she was grateful that he’d agreed to it.  The temptation had been strong to delve into her long-standing and discarded infatuation for him—steeling herself for falling into the mindset that had caused her endless misery.

Feeling a sense of excitement, she looked toward her wardrobe.  Not only was she potentially growing with child, but he’d also given her permission to venture out to Hyde Park, and she was going to take advantage of her new freedom this morning.

Sitting in the
parlor upstairs, Adele heard as Lysander arrived in the afternoon.  She hadn’t quite achieved an understanding of his schedule and she felt herself tense as she heard him move up the stairs toward her.  The door opened, and she put her embroidery aside.

“An invitation has arrived for a night of cards with Sir Allworth and his wife.  I would like us both to attend,” he said, staying at the doorway.

“Of course,” Adele responded with a nod, not quite understanding the change in their circumstances.  As for his actions, she’d assumed that he wouldn’t take her anywhere, or introduce her as his wife—but if they went, he would have to.  Again, she wondered at the change—whether it signified some real change in his attitude toward her.

The calm excitement at the future that had instilled in her that morning was now fading.  She’d never
traveled in his society and knew full well that she was a notorious woman.  Nervousness gripped her insides, but she wasn’t about to cry off.  If he wanted her to present herself, she would—even for the purposes of ridicule and derision if she must.  She had no illusions that she would be welcomed into his society with open arms.

“It is necessary,” he said. 
“For the child’s sake.”

Adele hadn’t even considered the implications for the child, but of course he was right.  It was important that the child’s paternity wasn’t in question.  She felt a stab of disappointment that his request had a completely practical purpose, having nothing to do with a change in consideration toward her.  As he left, she chided herself on falling back to her old tendency of seeking his approval and admiration.  He was never going to change and she would serve herself better to never forget that.  Her attention should exclusively be on the wellbeing of this child—
as his was.

Sitting in the carriage as it drove through Mayfair, in one of the more formal gowns the staff had retrieved from Devon, she tried to still her hands and hide the nervousness she felt.  Her situation was her responsibility and she should be prepared to bear its consequences.  Having chosen to run off with a man that wasn’t her husband, she should be prepared to face the consequences of her action, and now was the time to do so.

It was hard to make out Lysander’s thoughts in the dark of the carriage, but he’d surveyed her gown and countenance as she’d descended the stairs earlier, and said nothing.  He hadn’t look dismayed, so she’d assumed that her efforts had been sufficient.

She steeled her resolve as the carriage door was opened by an attending footman on their arrival at their destination.  Lysander stepped out, turning to help her out before leading her up to the entrance.  Smiling timidly, she followed at his side, trying to hide the uncertainty she felt.

“Madame Allworth,” he greeted the evening’s hostess.  “It is an
honor to accept an invitation to your lovely home this evening.  May I introduce you to my wife.”

“Ah, Lady Warburton”
Mrs. Allworth said.  “The elusive wife.  We’ve always known you had one, but had always wondered what manner of sprite you hid away in the country.  And here she is—a lovely creature.”  The woman smiled, but there was a certain tightness to it as her traveling gaze held a hard edge.  At least politeness kept their opinions at bay, Adele thought.

Lysander turned slightly.  “Harry, you remember Adele.”

“Of course I do,” Harry said, not quite looking her in the eye.  She’d met him a few times and she’d never liked him; he’d called her frail as a bird the first time she’d met him and she hadn’t quite warmed to him since—not that there was much to warm to; he’d dismissed her as readily as her own husband had.

As they walked into the
salon, Adele prayed that Lysander wouldn’t leave her on her own.  There wasn’t a single person in this room that liked her and that included the two men standing next to her.  She smiled bitterly at the thought.

“Would you like
a refreshment?” Lysander asked.  She nodded, but regretted it as he moved away to the table serving refreshments, leaving her in the company of Harry.

“How is it, being back in London?” he asked without much intonation in his voice.

“Hyde Park is a gem,” she said with a smile, while noting the whispers and attention she received from the other attendants.

“Bit of a walker, are you?”

“Yes, I suppose.”  And with that, they had nothing further to say until Lysander returned to the relief of both.

“I think the evening went well,” Lysander said as they traveled home again.

“Yes,” she agreed, thinking back on the uncomfortable evening she’d suffered through.  People’s curiosity about her was consistent, even though they did try to hide it.  She wasn’t much of a card player, so she’d stood by when Lysander had accepted the obligatory game—it had after all been the purpose of the evening.  They were the first to leave, but it was already late.  Society in London tended to run at
a later schedule than elsewhere.  “I think I shall retire for the evening.”

Leaning her head back, Adele congratulated herself on surviving her first foray into society. 
And without incident, too.  She didn’t deceive herself into believing she was accepted, but neither had she been cut. 

The carriage ride wasn’t long and Lysander took her hand when he helped her out.  She felt the contact much more than the mere touch justified and wondered if he’d come to her that evening—not feeling comfortable asking. 

She would prepare in case he did, telling herself sternly not to let her mind attach undue meaning to these intimacies.  After returning to her room and undressing, she combed her hair, trying not to feel the anticipation running through her body.  The previous night hadn’t, by all accounts, been a riveting encounter on its own merits, but their history made it important beyond the mere mechanics of it.

Stopping the slow strokes of her hair, she listened to the movement in the house.  Lysander was coming up the stairs and she waited to hear what he did.  A slight knock on her door made her breath hitch.

“Am I unwelcome?” he asked when he moved inside the door, in exactly the same way as the previous evening. 

Placing her brush down, she turned toward him.  “No.”

He nodded slightly and looked around the room as the moment of awkwardness stretched.  Adele moved to the bed and placed herself on the covers, tension making her body feel heavy and stiff.  She couldn’t help herself watching as he took his jacket off and continued to undress, his movements slow and meticulous.  She was nervous again, anticipating what was to come—and with a more pronounced hint of curiosity along with dread and resignation. 

He left his shirt on and she would see that he wasn’t entirely unprepared for the activity to come.  As he kneeled on the bed in front of her, she couldn’t help feeling heavy anticipation as she spread her thighs for him.  Unlike the previous night, he didn’t position himself immediately; instead letting his eyes linger on her for a moment.  Adele felt a spear of concern that he’d changed his mind and regretted his decision to seek her out that night.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked. 
More than you’ll ever understand
, she wanted to say, but knew he was referring to the previous night.  “If this will be uncomfortable for you, we can forego and recommence another night.”

“No, I am fine.  I wish to proceed.”

With a nod, finally, he moved, shifting to position himself between her thighs.  His entrance smoother this evening; her body seemed a little more willing to accommodate him, and she felt herself stretch as she yielded to him, taking him with some effort.  Biting her lip, she tried to sort the things that were going through her mind, and the mismatched signals from her body, purposefully quelling any sensations that were unnecessary. 

Withdrawing, he pushed into her again and she felt the jolt of sensation as he buried himself
deep inside her.  She’d discovered the pleasure of a man’s bed, but in another man’s bed.  She couldn’t afford to pursue that here, with him, because there were such complexities between them.  Lysander was going to divorce her and she couldn’t afford to spend another ten years pining after him, dreaming of just this.  She closed her eyes.

His movements grew firmer and she felt the pleasure of it
caress her insides, refusing to feed its gentle insistence.  His body drew nearer; until now he’d kept his distance as much as practical.  She felt his hand on her hip, urging her hips closer to his.  His groan of pleasure drew one of dismay from her; she wanted to just give herself over to this primal, base undertaking.  Keeping her eyes firmly shut, she tried to distract her mind.

Then she felt his lips on hers, the merest touch as first, growing firm.  The touch unlocked something in her, which she unwillingly lost control over.  He deepened the kiss and it broke through every barrier she’d ever managed to place.  Her body flared with fire; sensation stealing through every part of her.  Her whole body tensed around him, urging him deeper with desperate need.  Her tongue met his exploration and her body suffered shocks of deep, piercing pleasure as his thrusts came to full
emersion.

She needed more, much more; her hands ripping at the buttons of his shirt, giving way by force to reveal more of him, his
chest and skin.  Warm, hard muscle met her hands as she let them roam over his chest and along his back.  He slowed, and again Adele felt a spear of concern that things had gone too far for him, that he was unwilling to be touched by her.  She sought out his eyes, but couldn’t make out any meaning in them.  He was staring down at her in stillness.  Her core still pulsed around him in belated response.

Slowly, he leant down and kissed her—his lips soft and parted.  Adele felt the pleasure of the kiss suffuse her mind and push away the confused apprehension she felt.  She felt the tip of his tongue run along
the sensitive inside of her lips.  Mentally, she begged him not to stop; her body was wracked with painful tension, and he seemed to hear her beseechment, because his hips ground into hers, sending sharp waves of pleasure through her.  His hands traveled along her backside, holding her to him, increasing the driving friction between them.

H
er body moved in unison with his, meeting each thrust, drawing as much sensation and friction out, as small moans escaped when it became too much and she started to violently convulse around him.  He slowed again for a while as her body completed a series of writhing convulsions, then he kissed her again, leaving her no room for air or peace.  His tongue demanded entrance and explored her mouth, before moving to her neck, teasing her skin as the hardness of him inside her slowly ground into her.  Her release hadn’t even addressed the painful tension she felt.

His hands urged her arms up above her head, where his other hand gently held her wrists as his
fingers ran along the sensitive skin of her underarm, eliciting small moans from her as he teased her with gentle but ardent undulations from his hips.  She could barely breath, feeling completely undone both physically and mentally.  This was everything she’d ever wanted—being desired by her husband, having her body worshipped by him.

More forcefully, he moved into her, drawing out the friction between them, sending new and powerful sensations
cascading through her.  She was completely at the mercy of this, every bit of her body in tune with his movements and ministrations.  His hand still holding hers above her head as his movement became more forceful, driving into her, to a new, shattering release.  Arching into his release, his groans filling her ears and her mind as shudders wracked him.

His weight was completely on her when
her mind gained some semblance of order.  Her limbs tangled in his and she felt like crying, but also too uncertain to move.  He withdrew from her, pushing himself back to sit on the edge of the bed, looking confused and maybe even dismayed. 

Adele turned on her side, away from him.  She couldn’t quite get a handle on her own emotions as all her feelings seemed to have rushed back, leaving all her work to get rid of them for nought.  He shouldn’t have kissed her; it was the kiss that had done it—undone her.  She refused to turn and acknowledge him as he rose and left.