A Husband's Wicked Ways (16 page)

“Let me show you the rest of it,” Greville said, lead
ing the way to double doors on the left of the hall.

She followed him into a reasonable-size drawing room, high ceiling, attractive moldings, a lovely Adam’s fireplace. Long windows looked onto the street and there was plenty of light. The furniture was fashionable, not particularly ornate, the draperies neutral as befitted a leased house. But with books and pictures, and a few little decorative touches, it could be made quite personal. But did Greville own such personal objects? Somehow she doubted it. He wasn’t a man who spent much time in any one place.

“What do you think?”

She turned back to him. “It will do you very well. In your place I’d move things around a little, make a few adjustments, add a few personal touches, but…yes, it seems perfect for your purposes. Not too large for a bachelor, but plenty of room for entertaining.”

He stroked his chin thoughtfully as he looked around, seeing the room with fresh eyes. “I’m not very good at making places seem like home. Could you do that for me?”

“Do you have any books, pictures, ornaments…anything like that?”

He laughed. “No, my dear girl, I do not. What would I do with such fripperies…carry them around in a knapsack as I jaunter around the world?”

“Of course not.” She shook her head. “You’ll need to buy a few bits and pieces.”

“Would you consider acquiring them for me? In the interests of our enterprise.”

“Certainly. I’d enjoy it,” she said frankly. “Tell me how much you wish to spend and I’ll happily make a nest for you. Obviously, since it’s only for three months or so, you won’t wish to be extravagant, but I’m sure I can find a few odds and ends for a relatively small sum, and we need only work on the public rooms.”

He nodded, but made no other response. “Let me show you the rest of the house.”

They toured the ground floor, and Aurelia had no objections to the dining room or the cozy library at the rear of the house. It would be a perfect house for herself and Franny, she thought, looking around the library, imagining her own books on those shelves. “How much is the lease?” she asked suddenly.

Greville looked surprised. “Twenty-five guineas a week. Quite reasonable for its size and location I thought. Why do you ask?”

She frowned at him. “This pension I am promised as payment for my services…you have not told me how much it will be.”

“Oh, I understand.” He nodded his head. “You will be wanting your own establishment of course. Unfortunately I cannot give you an exact figure as yet. The issue is being considered by those whose job it is to consider such things. But I could make a recommendation if you care to give me an idea of what you need.”

“I’ll have to think about it.”

“Do that and let me know.” Simon Grant had agreed in principle to pay a pension to Frederick’s
widow, both in recognition of Frederick’s services to his country and in payment for his widow’s forthcoming services. But practical matters tended to slide out of Simon’s overworked brain, and he would need reminding and a gentle prod to sign the necessary authorizations.

Aurelia felt a little surge of satisfaction as she went up the stairs. Twenty-five guineas a week would probably stretch her finances too far, but there was also that not inconsiderable sum in Frederick’s back pay and prize money that Greville had said would be paid to her. That might bridge the gap. The idea of paying her own way through the sweat of her own brow was eminently gratifying. No one could control that money or dictate how it was spent. She was answerable to no one, finally free of Markby’s yoke. And all she really had to do was pretend to have a romantic interest in a most attractive man. Not a particularly arduous task. Not in the least.

She almost flew up the stairs, her step powered by the swift and exultant tumble of her thoughts. She arrived on the landing a few steps ahead of Greville. “So, where does the master of the house lay his head?”

Greville paused just below the top step. Something in her voice arrested him. He looked up at her, his eyes narrowed, and slowly her expression changed, her eyes looked startled, as if by a sudden, extraordinary thought, and her mouth became different, sensual and inviting. The air around them in the silent, deserted house seemed
suddenly to come alive. The very emptiness of the space around them became charged with significance. She held out a hand to him and slowly he took it, coming up the last step to stand beside her.

He drew her in front of him, his hands resting on her shoulders as he looked into her eyes, deep golden brown eyes that held his gaze, and he felt the hard certainty that ruled his every moment, informed his every action, losing shape, becoming fuzzy around the edges. Then Aurelia smiled at him, a slow smile that brought a luminous shimmer to her eyes, like sunlight on a forest pool.

“Heaven help me,” Greville murmured. “This is madness, and I am helpless against it.” He lowered his mouth to hers, crushing her against him as he devoured her mouth, ran his hands down her back, pressing her to him, his hands hard on her hips, fingers digging into the soft, yielding curves. She murmured against his mouth, caught his bottom lip between her teeth, pressed her loins into his. He moved her backwards, his mouth still cleaving to hers, along the corridor to the double doors to his bedchamber. He reached around her waist and flicked up the latch, propelling her into the room.

Only then did he step back from her, but his eyes remained locked with hers as he loosened his stock, throwing it from him as he shrugged out of his coat and waistcoat, sending them in the same direction. In shirt and britches he caught her up by the waist. He held her
above him and she laughed down at him in sheer exultation, her eyes deep and sensuous as the richest brown velvet.

He carried her to the bed and dropped her into the middle of the deep feather mattress, then lifted her feet one by one onto his thigh so that he could unbutton her boots. He tossed them unceremoniously to the ground and slid his hands up the silken length of her stockinged legs, molding her knees into his palms, fingertips dancing in the soft hollows behind her knees.

Aurelia unbuttoned her pelisse, her fingers clumsy in their haste. Urgent need filled the hushed silence of the empty house, her loins were hot, the deep furrow in her body moist with anticipation. She struggled to free her arms from the pelisse, and Greville half lifted her, pulling the confining garment away from her. Her gown was a simple jonquil crepe affair that clung to her bosom and hips. She tugged at it, yanking it up to her waist, her legs curling around his hips as her fingers struggled with the buttons of his britches.

He reared back for a moment, looking down at her flushed face, her glowing eyes, her parted lips. Then with a swift motion he yanked loose the ties of the lawn drawers she wore beneath the thin crepe, pushed a hand beneath her to lift her so that he could pull the garment clear over her hips. She lifted her hips high on the bed, her legs still curled around his waist, pulling him into the hot cleft of her body.

But with a wicked smile he held back, just inserting
the tip of his penis within her, holding himself there, moving slowly, stimulating the exquisitely sensitive opening of her body before finally sheathing himself within her. She sighed as she took him deep inside her, and he lay still, feeling himself enclosed in the silken warmth, content for the instant to feel just that.

Aurelia moved her hand down his back, stroking the hard-muscled curve of his backside, pressing her hand against him as he began to move within her, setting up a slow rhythm that increased in pace as their passion grew. The silence of the house around them added to her excitement, they were alone, utterly private, no one knew where she was, no one, not even her dearest friends, could guess at what she was doing.

She arched her back, rising to meet his thrusts, tightening around him, her hands pressing into his buttocks, and he gave her what she wanted, his head thrown back, the strong column of his throat bared, his hips plunging, his penis so deep within her it touched her womb, and she cried out, a triumphant, exultant scream of delight as the world spun off its axis, and she clung to him as to a lifeline as his own cry joined with hers.

Afterwards, as Aurelia came back to herself, she realized that they were lying entwined in a tangle of clothes. Her drawers were around her ankles, her gown and petticoat caught up at her waist.

Greville hitched himself onto both elbows above her and shook his head in a dazed wonder. “I can’t remember when I last made love in my boots.” His britches were around his knees, his shirt half-unbuttoned.

Aurelia only smiled weakly. There were no words to describe how she felt. Sated with delight, astounded at the suddenness of that excess of pleasure, stunned at the realization of how much she had missed the simple act of love since Frederick had sailed away.

Greville slid backwards until his boots touched the floor again and he could stand upright. “What a gloriously immodest sight you are.” He chuckled, bending over her to kiss her, one hand resting over the damp mound of her pubes, twisting a dark curl around his forefinger. “Put yourself together, before I ravish you again.”

“I’m willing to be ravished,” she murmured, making no attempt to cover herself.

“Clearly, you don’t know much about the harsh anatomical realities of the male.” Greville hauled up his britches. He did up the buttons before bending over to take her hands and pull her to her feet.

He held her with one hand, pushing up her chin with his other. He said nothing, but something in his eyes penetrated her daze, sending a little chill into the warm aftermath of loving. Then he released her and the moment passed.

Aurelia bent to pull up her drawers. She adjusted the light folds of her dress over her hips and sat down to put on her boots. What had been behind that strange, almost
forbidding look? Should she bring it up? But she realized she didn’t want to. She didn’t want to analyze what had happened between them, not at this moment.

“Will you move in here soon?” It was such an ordinary question after the intense communication of the last half hour, but it was all she could think of. The world was back, and there were questions and situations that had to be discussed.

“As soon as possible,” Greville said. “But I’ll need to hire a staff.”

“You’ll need a housekeeper, and cook. And a butler, valet…batman…don’t army officers have batmen?”

“Regular army officers, yes.” Greville bent to the low dresser mirror to retie his stock. “But by no stretch of the imagination do I fall into that category.”

“No, I suppose not.” She nudged him away from the mirror so that she could see to her sadly tumbled hair.

“I’m quite accustomed to taking care of my own needs,” he said, stepping back to pick up his waistcoat.

“You can cook?”

“Probably better than you.” He pushed his arms into his coat.

Aurelia gave a rueful laugh. “That would not be difficult. I don’t know the first thing about cooking.”

“Frederick learned.”

“I assume because he needed to. I don’t see how, in this play of ours, that I should ever need to.”

“No,” Greville agreed. “Shall we continue the tour of the house? You need to know the layout, since we’ll be
using it as a base for operations.” He walked over to a door in the far wall and flung it wide. “This bedchamber belongs to the lady of the house.”

Aurelia came up beside him and glanced around the room. It was similar in size to his own, unexceptionably if unimaginatively furnished. “Pleasant enough.” She walked through the room and opened the door to the boudoir. This would suit her admirably, she thought longingly. If she could afford a house like this, she and Franny would want for nothing.

“You’re thinking how much you would like this for your own,” Greville said, catching her chin on a fingertip and turning her face towards him.

“Is it that obvious?” Her smile was faintly rueful.

“I’m aware that finances are much on your mind.” He traced her mouth with his thumb. “And where you and your daughter are to live. It’s not difficult to read your mind in such an instance.”

“No, I suppose not. But I’ve always had my own sitting room, my own private room, and I think I would find it hard to live in a house without it.” She gave a slight self-deprecating shrug.

“I would have thought a bedchamber and a drawing room sufficient,” he said, sounding genuinely puzzled. “Why would one person need so much space? I’ve lived for many years with nothing to call my own but the clothes on my back, and what I can carry on my back. I count a solid roof over my head a luxury.”

“Well, you are a rather unusual individual,” Aurelia responded with more than a hint of irony. “I’m sure your mother had her own sitting room.” Even as she said it, Aurelia realized it was the first time she had touched upon his personal history. And Greville didn’t know that she had had some tantalizing inkling from Mistress Masham.

“Oh, yes,” he said, his voice suddenly cold and distant. “She had an entire wing of the house to herself. She was not one for company.”

Well, that fitted with what little Mary had let fall. But it still told Aurelia nothing of any significance. However, it meant a lot more than the surface words implied, Aurelia was convinced. He looked utterly forbidding, his tone icy, his eyes like gray stones, and she could no more bring herself to question his statement than she could swim the English Channel.

“It’s time we left.” Greville moved past her and strode down the corridor to the staircase. Aurelia followed more slowly. It was difficult at this moment to remember the passion they had shared such a short time ago.

In the hall, he went to open the front door, but stopped before doing so. He held out his hands to her and she walked forward, placing her own in his. He clasped her hands tightly and drew her towards him.

“I find you irresistible, Aurelia,” he said softly. “Somehow you’ve slipped beneath my guard, and it makes me a little uneasy. If that causes me to behave curtly, or to distance myself, then I ask your forgiveness and your
understanding. I would not make you unhappy for the world. And I don’t want your anger or annoyance, I want your warmth and your passion, and that lovely smile. We will work well together, and all the better for what happened this afternoon. I believe that. Will you forgive me?”