The Merry Widow (4 page)

He pushed away from the door and walked towards her, his heavy footfalls echoing in the quiet space. “I think an apology is in order for my untimely visit at such an early hour. But eager to see you again, I could not bear to wait until the evening hour.”

Her heart raced as he closed the distance between them. When he moved to sit down, she swept her skirts aside to allow room for him. “No need for an apology….” Phillipa paused when his thigh brushed against hers. “Today is the agreed-upon date.” Emboldened by their intimacy, she added, “and what are a few hours when I too looked forward to sharing your company?”

“You make me a happy man to hear you say such.”

Phillipa looked away when his smile broadened into a boyish grin. It was bad enough he was so devilishly handsome, but when he smiled, his good looks were almost too beauteous to behold. Needing a neutral diversion, she played the role of a proper hostess.

“Have you eaten this morn? I can ring Beatrice, and she will prepare something for you.”

She made to rise, but his hand on her arm stopped her. Phillipa shivered at his touch. It seemed to burn her skin through the lightweight satin of her robe. Only when she resettled herself did he finally remove his hand from her person. Affected by him in more ways than one, she surreptitiously wiped her sweaty palms on her skirts.

“I’ve already broken my fast,” he said. “However, do not let my presence keep you from doing the same. Whilst you eat, I will peruse the
Evening Marlborough
. I have a certain fondness for Lady Cherbourg.”

Phillipa felt her spine stiffen. I can’t be jealous, she thought. He is only a rentboy! A well dressed one, but still a man for hire. So why should she care if he saw another? Even though she had no answer for this unexpected surge of jealously, she was unable to forestall her wayward tongue from voicing her mind’s curiosity.

“Is Lady Cherbourg one of your clients?” she asked, seeming to busy herself with her breakfast. Leaning forward, she picked up the teacup and brought it to her lips. She gasped. His hand had slid around the back of her neck, his thumb lightly caressing her spine.

Phillipa held her breath when he leaned into her, his broad chest utterly masculine against her rounded fullness. “You wouldn’t happen to be jealous, Widow Jones?”

Her eyes fluttered closed when his breath stirred the hairs at her temples. “H-h-how did you know I was a widow?” She turned her head to look at him and noted she’d missed pressing her lips to his by a hairsbreadth. Of its own accord her head tilted to the side, so if he kissed her their noses would not be an impediment. “Lady Cherbourg? Your client?”

Something flashed in his eyes, but it languished before he cleared his throat and spoke. “My employer, Madame Valant, makes sure that all of us are well-versed in our client’s history and their particular nuisances. As for your earlier question, no, Lady Cherbourg is not a client. I simply enjoy reading her column.”

Her eyes widening in amazement, she pulled back from him slightly. “You like women’s gossip?”

“Of course. It’s a welcome respite from the arduousness of my day-to-day business.”

“I’m sure whor—I mean, your vocation can be very arduous,” she quipped, unable to keep the cattiness from her voice. The very idea of him servicing a multitude of women turned her stomach. “I’m sure you have many clients you have to please.”

He sat back against the pillows with a sigh. “Contrary to what you might think, Phillipa, I have no clients. I have put aside all other pursuits to court only you.”

“Court!” she scoffed. “Save your flattery for another. You forget I’m a paying client.”

“Have I taken any money from you? I believe I left my payment behind.”

Phillipa opened her mouth to refute him, but snapped it shut when she recognized the validity of his argument. “Well, that is neither here nor—” She paused when an odd expression shadowed his handsome features.

“What in the bloody…?” he muttered, adjusting the pillow behind him.

The blood drained from her extremities as she watched him reach behind the pillow. To her horror, he pulled out Harry’s gift.

“What’s this?” he asked, moving to open the lid.

“Give me that!” Phillipa snatched the box from his hands. But since she’d used more force than was necessary, the box flipped up and spiraled through the air. Her long skirts made her slower to her feet, but his agility could not prevent the box from opening and its contents from spilling out.

If she weren’t made of stouter stuff, she would have surely fainted as he caught both the box and the dildo.

As if nothing untoward had happened, Phillipa resumed her seat and sipped at her tea. Yet she kept her eyes averted as he retook his own seat. The ticking of the clock on the mantel behind them boomed like cannon fire as the silence stretched between them.

At last he spoke. “You would share your morning meal with this, but not me?”

She gasped when he reached out and pulled her against him. The empty teacup rattled to the rug unforgotten as he pushed her back against the couch pillows.

“Don’t you realize that I alone want to give you pleasure?” He took her hand and pressed it against the front of his trousers.

Biting her lip in angst, she gripped him, thinking, this bulge would surely split her in two! But deep down she knew she’d welcome every inch of him.

“Obviously you are not ready to admit what you really want. And that is my cock bedded deep inside you.” He shifted slightly. But before she knew what he was about, he’d untied her robe. “Did you reach your woman’s joy?” he whispered while his sly fingers trailed up the inside of her thigh.

When she shook her head, several pins came dislodged, spilling her long dark hair over her shoulders.

“Well, it would be ungentlemanly of me to not help you out, since my untimely appearance was the reason for it.” He then lowered his head and captured one of her nipples in his mouth. As he suckled greedily on the bud, his hand nudged her thighs apart. She tensed upon feeling the warm glide of the ivory dildo over her sex. When he found her opening, he positioned it. Instinctively she spread her legs wider.

Recognizing her open invitation, he plunged the dildo up to the hilt.

A cry exploded from deep within her. Arching her back, she opened her body to his masterful thrusts.

“Lift your legs and place them on my shoulders.”

She moved to obey him. But when she settled her legs around him, she almost swooned as the dildo sank even deeper. Needing to maintain a hold on reality, she reached for him. Her hands settled onto the dark head suckling at her breasts and her fingers slipped through his unruly curls. An almost imperceptible shiver passed through his body. She smiled to herself, for she wasn’t the only one affected by their love play.

“Phillipa,” he said in a low voice, “your affect on me is incomprehensible. Never before have I lost my facilities with a woman I haven’t yet bedded. You have me shooting my seed like a boy in knickers! Therefore it is only fair that you will gush your excitement as I have done.”

His thrusts increased with lightening speed. Phillipa clutched at his shoulders. She tossed her head to and fro as her inner walls began to spasm around the warm ivory and her release bubbled in the pit of her stomach. Seeing her release within her grasp, she bucked her hips up against his hand.

“Oh… oh… oh….” she gasped.

“Let go! Let go, ma petite fille!”

She squeezed her eyes shut and with his encouragement, cried her release. While she drifted between reality and that shadowy realm that brought the human body immeasurable joy, he shifted their positions so that she lay draped over him. The dildo was still embedded in her sex. But Phillipa didn’t mind. She didn’t want to part with the delicious toy just yet.

“You and I will suit,” he murmured against her hair. “Yes, you and I will suit very well.”

He eventually drifted to sleep on top of her while she remained awake, dazed and trying to decipher the meaning of those words.

That afternoon, Phillipa was still considering his words and wondering what they meant. Surely he didn’t—

The man seated across from her desk cleared his throat. “So I think it best for the company’s interest if we look into buying another ship, Mrs. Jones, especially if we plan on keeping up with the present demand. If ye want, I can start looking at several of the new designs out there. And I’ll have ye a few estimates by the end of the week.”

Phillipa looked at her dock foreman and knew from the expression on his face that for the second time this afternoon, she’d not heard one word he’d said. Sighing heavily, she removed her glasses and placed them on the desk in front of her. “Mr. Hadley, I’m sorry. My mind has not been in the right place this entire week.”

“I truly understand, ma’am, ye have a lot of things on yer plate. It’s a pure marvel how yuv been able tah keep them all straight for as long as ye ‘ave, especially wit’ ye being a woman, tight corset and all,” he enumerated in his soft Scottish brogue.

Phillipa smiled ruefully at the irony of his observation. Her being a woman was exactly why her business had flourished, because she’d never taken for granted the opportunity that had been bestowed upon her by her late husband. However, it was this same feminine nature that now interfered with the proper running of her business. Not to mention being the cause of her sudden inability to concentrate on anything else but her evening with Reggie.

Thankfully a knock at her office door saved her from further embarrassment. Hadley rose. “Well, ma’am. I will get those estimates for a new ship to ye by the end of the week. Considering yer state, are we still invited for tonight? My Martha just loves yer quarterly dinner parties.”

“Of course,” Phillipa said automatically. She watched him unfold his long frame from the seaman’s chair as her mind processed his last statement. And then it suddenly struck her. Tonight was the quarterly dinner party she hosted for her office staff and ship captains to reward them for their hard work.

“Of course we’re still on for tonight!” Phillipa exclaimed with an excess of enthusiasm as her mind whizzed over all the preparations she’d been too occupied this morning to confirm with Beatrice.

The foreman nodded. “Good. We will see you later this evening then.”

But as the door closed behind him, she jumped up from her chair and hurried over to the hat tree in the corner. She snatched the gray top hat off the wooden rung and shoved it down on her neatly placed curls. While she was pulling on her black kid gloves, her office door suddenly burst open and Lucy bounded in, her cheeks flushed.

“He’s here again, Mrs. Jones.”

“Who’s here, Lucy?” she asked, draping her reticule over one wrist.

“It’s Viscount Bellomont. Supposedly he was in the neighborhood, and he thought you might join him for afternoon tea at the Surrey Tea Room.”

Phillipa stiffened with indignation. “While we talk business, of course. That man’s tenacity is boundless! I would rather eat dinner with the Whitechapel murderer than the honorable viscount.”

“Ohhh, don’t say that, Mrs. Jones,” Lucy gasped, her hands coming to her throat. “That murderer is straight from hell, methinks. Right from the belly of the beast! Nothing like his lordship.”

“I’m sorry, Lucy, that was a bad analogy.” Phillipa sighed, knowing how on edge the entire city was while that monster remained on the streets. “Could you please tell Viscount Bellomont that I thank him for his invitation, but unfortunately, I have to leave early this afternoon to take care of pressing matters at home. I need to see if everything is in preparation for our quarterly dinner party this evening.”

“Oi! I plain forgot meself! I will dispatch him posthaste, ma’am. Do you want me to send for your carriage?”

“That won’t be necessary. Mr. Hadley is still here. He can do that for you on his way back to the docks.”

***

“You should ‘ave sent for yer carriage, Mrs. Jones. It isna safe for a woman to be riding in a hired coach by herself.”

Phillipa patted Mr. Hadley’s arm as they walked down Leadenhall. “No need to worry, Mr. Hadley. I assure you I can take care of myself.”

When they reached the end of the block, he stepped to the curb and raised his arm. “Are you sure ye do not need me tah accompany ye home?” he asked, a worried look passing over his face.

“Mr. Hadley, I will not hear of it. After you procure me a cab, you will go home and bring your wife to my dinner.”

Then they were interrupted. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Jones.” Reggie reached up, swept the black felt bowler covering his dark curls from his head, and bowed at the waist.

Although it was midday in the midst of August, Phillipa knew it was more than the afternoon sun that had her overheated under the collar. Her gaze swung to the confused-looking Mr. Hadley. “Mr. Hadley, I thank you for your help, but I think that will be all.”

“Are ye sure? I hate to leave ye alone. This one looks a ne’er-do-well. Well-dressed, but ne’er-do-well all the same.”

Phillipa pursed her lips at Mr. Hadley’s summation. “He is, but all in all he’s harmless. In fact,” she improvised, “he is a partner in another shipping company.”

Dubiously, Mr. Hadley sized up Reggie for several moments before shrugging. He tipped his hat at her and turned on his heels.

“What are you doing here?” she hissed when she was alone with Reggie. “I didn’t know you did business in this neighborhood.”

“I don’t, but I have friends who conduct business here. I had come to see if they would be able to partake in afternoon tea, but they were otherwise occupied. You wouldn’t happen to be free for the rest of the afternoon, would you? I would hate to have come this far and wasted my time.”

Phillipa gave just a moment to imagining what he had in mind. Then she shook herself together. “I would love to, Reggie. But I fear I cannot. I’m hosting a dinner party this evening and must get home to oversee the arrangements. Perhaps we can meet for tea another time?”

“Yes, perhaps another time,” he murmured.

Was that disappointment she read in his tone?