Manor of Pleasure: An Erotic Historical Romance (6 page)

CHAPTER TEN

The night was black when they arrived at the house. They were astride Desmond's horse with Guinevere tethered behind them. Rebecca lay against Desmond's chest, barely conscious.

True to his word, Abbott stood at the entrance of Pinhope Manor as they approached. Rebecca was soon settled in her room and Dr. Elkins had been summoned.

After the doctor had completed his examination, he joined the Garways just outside of Rebecca's bedroom. He closed the door quietly behind him.

"It's nothing serious, although it might have been if Desmond had not found her when he did. It is a mild case of hypothermia and dehydration, nothing that a day in bed will not cure."

"May I see her?" asked Desmond.

"She's sleeping now, Desmond. You best wait until morning," Dr. Elkins answered.

"Go home, Desmond. Get some sleep." Lord Garway said to him.

"You're certain she's in no danger?" Desmond looked to the doctor.

"I'm quite certain of it. She'll be fine," Dr. Elkins assured him.

"Shall I send for the carriage, Desmond?" Lord Garway asked him.

"No, thank you, Lord Garway. I'd much rather walk. I'll see you in the morning then. Goodnight."

The cold night air was bracing and Desmond welcomed it. He needed to clear his head. That she would break off their engagement at all was unthinkable. But to break over a scheme of Sir Isaac's would be utterly preposterous.

Surely he could make her see that. He had to make her see that because he could not now fathom a life without her. If she were to leave him, she would sail across the Atlantic, he was sure of it. The break would be absolute and final.

He wondered how he would survive it this time, having lived this dream of her for the past two days. His heartache would be unimaginable. He tried not to think about it but it followed him home like a specter.

The next day, Desmond woke up unsettled. Then his recollection of the prior day's events fell upon him. His morning rituals gave him some respite; they per-occupied him and applied a veneer of normalcy to his day.

At breakfast, he gave his mother a watered-down version of the events, omitting references to Sir Isaac to the possible rupture between himself and Rebecca. There was much that was left unanswered.

"So for reasons known only to her, Rebecca rode out and fell asleep in a cottage."

Mrs. Baines gave her son a regard of pure disbelief. "That's nonsense, Desmond. What are you not telling me?"

"Mother, it's not my story to tell," Desmond set down his cup. "Besides it may no longer be our concern." He stared out the window.

"Not our concern? She is your
fiancee and my future daughter-in-law." His mother went and sat next to him. "Desmond, you come downstairs plodding like a gravedigger. You tell me the oddest story of Rebecca running away." She rose from the table. "Are things settled between you and Rebecca or not?"

Desmond let out a sigh of resignation. One way or another, she would soon find out. Better that it should be from him than from that wretched tongue of that rake, Sir Isaac. "You'd better sit," Desmond advised her.

After he finished his rendition, his mother did not appear the least bit shaken or surprised. "Things are never as they seem on the surface," she stated as a matter of fact. "When did you learn of this?"

"Rebecca told me several days ago when I proposed." He added, "If it had made a difference to me then, I would never have asked for her hand. She doesn't seem to think so."

"So you love her still?"

"Mother, I have always loved her. Almost from the very first day that I set eyes on her." He gave her a sideways glance.

"Very well, then," Mrs. Baines said as she rose from her chair. "Wait here."

Within a minute, Mrs. Baines returned to the dining room. She dropped a small gray velvet case in front of Desmond.

"What is this?" he asked her. Upon her urging, he opened it. The tiny box contained a gold ring bearing a oval garnet of scarlet red at its center. The gem itself was encircled by tiny diamonds. It was elegant and flawless.

Desmond looked up at his mother. "It's lovely. Wherever did this come from?"

"Your father gave it to me before we were married. It's a promise ring," she answered. "It's been awhile since it fit me. I want you to have it to give to Rebecca."

"That's a risky proposition, isn't it, in the circumstances?" questioned Desmond, his eyebrow arching slightly.

"I think not, Desmond," his mother reassured him. "Anyone who has seen you and Rebecca together would have no doubts." She smiled. "You know I had brought it out once or twice when you were courting that clergyman’s daughter. She was a dear girl. Then something would happen to shake my confidence and I would squirrel it away again." She shrugged slightly and smiled.

"You're not shocked by Rebecca's conduct with Sir Isaac?" Desmond asked her warily.

"Desmond, I was not born yesterday and neither were you. There are a good many skeletons in the bedroom closets of the upper class. None of us are perfect." Mrs. Baines looked at him plainly. "Rebecca has proven her worth and character in other ways that have satisfied me."

Desmond looked at the ring one more time before closing its case. He was impressed by his mother's discretion and by her confidence in his future with Rebecca. He wished that he had the same degree of faith in Rebecca's love for him. But their record with one another had not been stellar. He was nervous.

"Now go fetch your coat," his mother urged him. "You have business to tend to."

Abbott greeted Desmond at the door and after relieving him of his coat and hat, quickly ushered him to the staircase. "I understand she's waiting for you, Mr. Baines."

Desmond acknowledged Abbott with a nod of thanks and directed himself up the stairs. He could feel his heartbeat quicken as he approached her bedroom. He rapped lightly on the door.

"Come in," he heard her say.

He entered.

"Good morning, Rebecca," Desmond smiled faintly. "I hope you're feeling better."

Rebecca was sitting up in her bed, supported by an assortment of pillows. Her dark hair was tied back by a length of red ribbon. The pale pink of her cheeks had returned and her lips were cherry red.

It was quite obvious that she was waiting to see him and she had attended to some preparation for his visit. He could not tell if that was a good sign or a bad omen.

She nodded and smiled. "I'm better, Desmond. Thank you." She patted her hand on the bed. "Please come and sit."

Desmond's stomach was in knots. He went and sat down on the edge of her bed. Neither of them spoke. She reached out slowly and grabbed his hand. She pulled it toward her and began to lightly caress his fingers. She laced his fingers with hers and looked up.

"How are you?" she asked him softly.

He still could not fathom her intention. "Well, that depends," he answered.

"On what?" Her voice was quiet.

He pulled his hand away. "Rebecca, don't play with me. Yesterday, you asked me to break with you. And now you ask me how I am?" He stood up and paced across the room. He stared out the window. "What can you be thinking?" He shook his head.

Rebecca didn't speak.

He continued with an increasing degree of bewilderment. "We have shared things, done things to each other that only the most intimate lovers do. Does that not mean anything to you?” Desmond turned to face her. His eyes were dark, accusatory. "Do you want to me to end our engagement? Do you really?"

Rebecca's eyes welled up. "Don't be angry with me, Desmond, please."

He approached her, uttering, "I tell you this, Rebecca. I will not end it. If you want me to leave and leave forever, I will but you must tell me that is what you want. I will do as you ask." He turned from her and waited.

She spoke resolutely in hushed tones. "Desmond, once my story is published, I will be a pariah. You must ask yourself if you can live with that. Can you see yourself married to an outcast…a whore? Who knows what people will say about me, about you?"

"I see myself married to you." Desmond turned to face her. "What others may say means nothing to me. I know who you are. And I know who I am."

Rebecca rose from her bed and went to him.

"Then you must know this…that you are the very air that I breathe. Do you think I said those things lightly yesterday as if they meant nothing? I feel as if my soul had been ripped out from my very core." She turned away from him in an effort to hide her tears.

Desmond grabbed her by her shoulders, forcing her to look at him. His manner was intense and focused. "Then you must never say such things to me again. Do not even think them. Do you understand me?"

He let her go and dropped his arms to his side. He turned and sat down on the settee by the fire. He lowered his head into his hands and ran his fingers through his hair.

He looked up. "Come here," he commanded softly.

He held out his hand. She went to him and sat down. "So, are we agreed?" Desmond asked.

Rebecca nodded wordlessly. She swallowed.

"You must say the words, Rebecca," Desmond urged. "You must promise."

He cradled her cheek in his right hand and lowered his lips to her mouth. He was poised to kiss her.

"I promise," she whispered.

"Go on," said Desmond, waiting. He scrutinized her hair, her eyes, her neck. He felt like an addict after the longest driest spell and she was his vice. His longing for her already consumed him.

Rebecca started again, "I promise never to say…" He kissed her lightly on the lips. "…or think…” He kissed her cheek. "…such things again." He kissed her neck and lingered there.

"Ever," Desmond whispered against her throat. "Ever," she repeated, breathlessly, her eyes closed.

"All right then." Desmond murmured in her ear.

His lips traveled back to her throat while his hand wandered slowly to her breast. As he squeezed her firm round flesh, he could feel her nipple stiffen against his palm through the thin cotton fabric of her nightdress.

"Desmond, no…" she whispered, panting softly. "Nora will be here soon." Desmond stopped and looked up at her. "You're right," he said, licking his lips. "You must get back to your bed." Desmond looked out the window in an attempt to cool down.

Rebecca settled herself back against her pillows, fixing her hair, adjusting her gown. He smiled at her and sat down at her bedside.

"I almost forgot. I have something for you." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the small gray velvet box. He grabbed her hand and placed the box in her palm.

Rebecca smiled. "What is it?" she asked him, her eyes bright with pleasure.

"Open it," he replied.

She flipped the tiny case open and drew in her breath. "It's beautiful, Desmond."

"My father gave it to my mother and now I'm giving it to you." He reached up to caress her hair. "Are you pleased?"

"What do you think?" Rebecca looked at him, smiling. She placed it on her ring finger and stared at it. "I love it, Desmond."

"Good. Then maybe later on tonight, you can show me how grateful you are." Desmond grinned. "Get some sleep. I will see you at dinner." He kissed her on the forehead. "I love you, Rebecca. More than anything."

He closed the door quietly behind him. He felt sure that the storm had passed.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

It was quiet in the back courtyard after the clamor of the morning deliveries. The cobblestones were wet, slick and dirty. Tobias enjoyed the cold moist air of the late morning, almost as much as he enjoyed the warm sharp taste of his cigar.

Life had been good to him since Charles Wexley's illness made him bed bound. He was now the valet to Lord John Garway. True, his ascension to the position may only be temporary, but he was no worse for wear. And he had to look out for himself, didn't he? Any position for however long it lasted was never a bad thing, particularly if you were a working class lad.

Mrs. Hewitt, Lady Garway's personal maid, approached him from behind and interrupted his mental assessments. "Penny for your thoughts?"

"They're worth more than a penny, aren't they, now? I'm valet to the Earl of Delafield." Tobias replied smugly.

"Don't be puttin' on airs with me." She took out a cigar. Tobias was quick to give her a light. "Not unless you want to find yourself in my
cross-hairs." She took a quick drag off her smoke.

"So what about Lady Rebecca then? Did she throw him over?" asked Tobias, smiling to himself.

"She can't have been that daft. I saw Mr. Baines here earlier for a visit." Mrs. Hewitt replied. "She's lucky to have him, if you ask me. She's lucky to have anyone."

"Well, that's no thanks to us," Tobias remarked. He took his time before he asked her, "Do you ever regret it?"

"Regret what?" challenged Mrs. Hewitt.

"You know very well," Tobias said quietly. "If it weren't for us, no one would have been the wiser about that Sir Isaac. It would have all blown over as quick as you please." He flicked his ashes and added, "She might have had her pick of a dozen princes."

"I suppose. Sometimes I wish I could undo things for Lady Garway's sake." Mrs. Hewitt took another puff. "Other times, I'm of the mind that Lady Rebecca should enjoy her just desserts, the heartless minx." She flicked her cigar ash. "Anyway, there's nothing to be done about it now."

"Isn't there?" Tobias asked but it was more of a statement than a question. "If you could, Mrs. Hewitt, wouldn't you set it straight? If only to spare Her Ladyship a scandal?"

Mrs. Hewitt didn't reply right away. But, she told herself, it was food for thought. Her debt to Lady Garway was one that she could never repay. She took one last drag from her cigar and tossed it off against the wet stones. Tobias did likewise. "We'll see about it," she finally countered. "I'll do my diggin' and you do yours. Between the two of us, we may come up with something."

Mrs. Hewitt did not have to wait long before she arrived at her first opportunity to unearth information about Lady Rebecca. Her mistress had social visits in the village in the afternoon. The preparations would be rigorous since Her Ladyship wished to make an impression. That meant Mrs. Hewitt would have that much more time to extract the most pertinent details from her. Not that she needed the extra time. It was Mrs. Hewitt's special talent that she could coddle and finagle news and
maneuvers from Her Ladyship in a matter of minutes.

Mrs. Hewitt chose her moment as Lady Garway sat at her vanity, putting the final touches to her hair. They were trying out a number of different combs and ornaments.

"The staff were very concerned last night, ma'am, with Lady Rebecca gone for so long and arrivin' in such a state," Mrs. Hewitt began.

"Thank you, Mrs. Hewitt." Lady Garway nodded. "It was awful."

"She's all right, then?"

"Yes, she's fine, thanks to Desmond," her mistress replied.

"That's a grace, isn't it, ma'am? The marriage is to go forward." Mrs. Hewitt smiled graciously at her.

"Of course, it is. Why wouldn't it?" If it was possible for Lady Garway to scowl, she managed it then.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, truly I am. But the entire staff is aware of the ill-founded rumors circulatin' in London and elsewhere." Mrs. Hewitt continued her ministrations. "But certainly, those aren't in play anymore, what with Mr. Baines and Lady Rebecca's engagement."

"If only that were true," Lady Garway fiddled with the cluster of combs before her on the vanity. "I'm afraid Sir Isaac may still wreak some havoc." Her lips set themselves in a firm straight line.

Mrs. Hewitt's face showed not the least bit of surprise at the mention of the older gentleman. "Lady Rebecca never really gave a care for him, ma'am, you can be sure of it. He's no threat to Mr. Baines."

"That's not what I meant," Lady Garway sighed. "He's a
politician, Mrs. Hewitt. Rumors and scandal are his bread and butter." She looked at herself in the mirror. "Thank you, Mrs. Hewitt. That's perfect." She rose from her vanity for the next stage in her preparations. Lady Garway didn't need to say anything more. Mrs. Hewitt had what she needed.

By the end of the day, Rebecca was quite herself again. All the same, she took extra care in her preparations for Desmond's return. She chose a pink gown, hoping it would add some color to her cheeks. She stood before the mirror. It brought to mind his first visit to her room. Her white naked curves against his black dinner jacket. The warmth of his hands on her breasts, his lips against her throat.

A heated surge rushed from her center down to that cleft between her thighs. The sensation was lush, hot and delicious. He would come to her again tonight. She would see to it.

Rebecca stood at the door with Abbott as Desmond and his mother entered the manor. "Mrs. Baines, so happy to see you," Rebecca said as she kissed her on the cheek. She turned to Desmond and grabbed his hand. "You look well, Desmond."

"I should say that to you," Desmond replied, "although you look a great deal more than well."

Rebecca felt his eyes traverse her face and body. She so hoped that she pleased him.

"Rebecca, I hope you're feeling better?" asked Mrs. Baines.

"Much better, thank you, Mrs. Baines," replied Rebecca with a smile.

Desmond interrupted their exchange. "Would you excuse us, Mother? I have something rather important that I wish to discuss with Rebecca."

"Certainly, Desmond," Mrs. Baines replied and she turned to Rebecca and smiled. "Rebecca, we'll talk later. Be sure that we do." Mrs. Baines followed Abbott to the drawing room.

Desmond grabbed Rebecca's hand and led her to the east library. Once in private, Desmond turned to her, "You are absolutely captivating tonight, Rebecca.” And with his hands at her waist, he pulled her to him.

Rebecca wrapped her arms around his neck and their lips met in a long and sensuous kiss. "You have plans," he whispered against her lips. "I can tell."

She ran her hands down his chest and under his dinner jacket. "The seduction of Desmond Baines," Rebecca replied softly, looking up at him. She placed her hands on his hips and pressed herself against him.

"Mission accomplished." Desmond smiled. He grabbed her hands. "Come and sit with me," he said and led her to the nearest settee. Desmond held her hands in his. "I've spent the afternoon thinking about us, about our future." Rebecca tilted her head and looked into his eyes expectantly. He continued, "I've decided. I cannot wait until June to marry you." He searched her face for some sign of agreement. Rebecca's lips broke into a shy smile.

He looked down at her hands. Her fingers were so soft, elegant and slender. She wore the ring he had given her earlier that day. The gems sparkled and the garnet seemed a darker red against the paleness of her skin.

"When I am away from you, I long to be with you. And when I am with you, I dread the moment when I have to leave you." He shrugged his shoulders. "I have never felt this way with anyone. I guess I always suspected that it would be like this...with you." He looked at her. "So there it is. Then there is that other matter."

"Other matter?"

"Rebecca, I know you do not want to think about it, much less talk about it." He stood up and walked to the window. "I can't help it. Even now that he's gone, he has this power to torment you. It's maddening. I want to wring his bloody neck." He turned and looked at her. "I'm sorry, Rebecca."

"Don't be." She joined him and linked her arm with his. "I'm quite over it, you know. You've made me stronger. I feel like I can face anything now as long as you're with me."

Desmond turned to her. "That may be and I'm happy for that. But our marriage will send him a message. You are out of his reach. His threats are meaningless. He can't hurt you any longer." He put his arms around her waist. "So let's do it, Rebecca. Let us be wed as soon as we can."

"I agree," Rebecca replied with a sure smile. "I think that's a lovely plan."

"I hoped you would agree." Desmond reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece paper.

"What is that?" Rebecca asked him.

"What do you think it is? It is our marriage
license." Desmond grinned. He gave it to her and she opened the folds to read it.

Rebecca brought her hand up to her mouth. There was no doubt of her pleasure. She returned the paper to Desmond. It was one step closer to a reality that she never dared dream of.

"So when are we to marry?" she prompted. Her smile was radiant.

"In four weeks?" suggested Desmond. "That will allow for the publication of banns. We can be married on the fourth Sunday." He brought her hand up to his lips and kissed it.

"Four weeks it is then," rejoined Rebecca, smiling still. "Mother will go into shock." She laughed. She placed her hands about his neck, leaning back and pressing her lower torso into his hips. "Can I see you later tonight?" she asked of him demurely. "We can celebrate."

Desmond looked down at her, smiled and said nothing.

"Desmond?" she chided.

He held her gaze and grasped the back of her neck in both of his hands. What power she possessed over him. Did she even realize it? He lowered his head to hers.

"Would you like me to come to your room after dinner?" he asked her softly. Then he kissed her. His tongue slipped between her lips and ran along the rim of her tongue.

Rebecca felt faint with desire. She melted her curves against the hard straight lines of his body, her hands on his shoulders.

Desmond slid his hands down her back, stopping at the side of her hips. He pressed her against him as they kissed. He was already hard.

She caught her breath. "Yes, Desmond."

The dinner bell sounded. Desmond touched his forehead to hers. "We'll see."

He took her hand in his and led her out of the library.