AgeofInnocence (3 page)

Once inside his carriage, they wound through the streets of
London to Whitfield House.

“I’m so glad you made it to the wedding,” she said. There
was no chiding in her statement and she did smile a bit. They had had no chance
to greet each other. He had determinedly avoided her since he’d proposed, for reasons
she would not understand.

“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”

“The flowers you sent were lovely. And the ring too.” She
held her fingers at an angle, admiring the emerald.

“Oh, it was just something I picked up.”

“Thank you,” she said.

“Lettie, there is something I need to explain.”

“No, there isn’t. I know it was all very sudden and that you
had no immediate wish to marry.”

“You are correct about the immediacy, however, I have never
been opposed to marriage. I had hoped for a favorable union. Someday.”

“I hope you have found that with me or that you will find
it. Someday.” Her gaze was shimmery, as if there were some heartfelt emotion
behind her words.

The longer they talked, the more his thoughts skimmed to the
night ahead. There would be houseguests, enough that they would be kept busy
for several days. And possibly nights. Ferd would make sure they were all
properly entertained.

He had no plans to enter his wife’s bedchamber while anyone
resided in the home. Postponement was a temporary strategy, one that a
non-virginal wife might not appreciate. It was also why he had made no
arrangements for an excursion to the Continent or to the country. He was not
ready to be alone with his wife.

Ferd had thought about his new life’s condition. “I do not
think we will make each other unhappy.”

“I have loftier goals, Ferdinand Ford. You see, I intended
to be deliriously happy. And I hope you will be happier than that.”

She gave him one of those bright smiles again before
glancing away and staring out the window. Happier than deliriously happy? For
him, that was only going to happen if he could sustain an erection long enough
to impregnate his wife.

Flowers.

Green eyes.

And a happy spirit.

Peace was a strange emotion. He hadn’t felt it in six weeks,
but after hearing her declaration and sitting across from the woman who now
bore the title of Mrs. Ferdinand Ford, he did know for sure they would not be
unhappy. In fact, he thought they might already be closer to the middle than at
either end. For how much more did he dare hope?

Outside Whitfield House, a fabulous gift from her ducal
husband, the carriage rolled to a stop and Lettie glanced out the carriage
window to see all was in order. Several of the guests had already arrived and
their children were waiting outside to shower them with flower petals as they
exited the carriage.

There were more than flowers. The petals rained down,
someone released several doves and then there was the sound of several popping
fireworks.

The cacophony made her husband smile while she clapped her
hands, as delighted as any of the children. She did feel strangely happy.

Lettie gripped her husband’s arm as he led her up the marble
stairs and into a foyer teeming with guests. Perhaps it was the joyful chatter
of the crowd or the loud and laughing children that seemed always underfoot,
but the mood in her home was astoundingly festive and continued thus throughout
the day.

She understood the mood as many of her friends kissed her
cheeks or clutched her hands and said, “I hope this time it lasts.”

It was a strange, sad sentiment amongst the well wishes.
Deep down, where doubts and fears resided, she desperately hoped it lasted too,
because staring at her new husband made her feel as if she would lose something
precious if it happened again.

The doors had been pushed wide and the dance floor had been
arranged with tables and chairs while the far walls were lined with colorful
decorations and one long table that held mounds of food—sweets and cheeses and
fruits along with breads and jams, cured hams, rashers of bacon and hot plates
that covered several egg dishes.

The toasts began almost as soon as Lettie and Ferd had taken
their place at the head table. His brothers toasted with naughty rhymes, his
sister teared up and couldn’t finish what it was she wanted to say. Lettie’s
only brother had waved away the attention, not wanting to say a word.

She rode the tide of emotion that swept her up and down
throughout the morning and into the early afternoon. Ferd had disappeared into
the crowd and when she had started to miss him, he turned up at her side.

“Ferd,” she whispered. “It feels as if this is the first
time I’m getting married.”

“Me too,” he said with a boyish smile. “Come, you need to
meet my great aunts.”

“I thought I’d met everyone in the kingdom.”

“Not everyone. My aunties seem to think the world revolves
around them. I don’t think they would mind if you greeted them as Your
Highnesses.”

“Then I shall.”

Ferd charmed them, which reminded her how he always seemed
to dance with the dowagers at
ton
functions and how he never seemed
interested in the younger, single women. He also managed his mother and father,
mostly keeping his mother from becoming overly excited when a punch bowl was
dropped on Lettie’s hard wood floor.

Her mother hung on Ferd’s every word, but since Papa had
died, Mama had loved male attention no matter the source.

By late afternoon, most of the guests had departed. Ferd had
removed his jacket and had retired to the billiards room with Randall
VanLandingham, the Duke of Pelham, Charles Standifer, the Earl of Archer, and
Edward Chase, the Earl of Redding. They were the gaming sort who could never
pass up a competition, not when the stakes were high and the occasion so worthy
of celebrating.

It was finally an opportunity to slip away and change from
her wedding dress. She had her lady’s maid search for a more comfortable pair
of shoes as well.

When she returned to her guests, they seemed to have
congregated in small groups and Lettie visited with them all, her first chance
at intimate conversation the whole day. She supposed that was why Ferd remained
closeted with his friends. His brothers had also made their way to the
billiards table and the noise and shouting penetrating the walls of the room
indicated much merriment and drink.

Knowing men, there would also be myriad suggestions for Ferd
once he was ensconced with her. She suspected he would be red from one ear to
the other.

Her mother and Lady Ford had also relaxed, no longer
bothered by the slightest mishap or worried that it would be the thing to ruin
the day—“Just ruin it,” as Mama had said several times. Mama was without her
shoes. Lord Ford had found a chair in the corner and he snoozed in spite of the
activity occurring about him.

The servants shuttled throughout the rooms—warming tea,
filling sweet trays, sweeping up after one child or another stomped on a
biscuit and spread it around the room.

Lettie wondered if they forgot the purpose of this
auspicious occasion. The crowd lingered until the children finally started to
fall asleep in laps. Had a honeymoon been planned, they could be well away from
the noisy and inconsiderate family that cluttered her rooms and couches. She
wanted to shoo them out the door or at least ensure they were secure behind
closed doors so she could have privacy with her husband. She was mildly
surprised that Ferd’s friends had not carried him up the stairs to his
bedchamber, such was the revelry in the billiards room.

When the house grew silent except for the occasional shout
from that quarter, Lettie made her way to her room where her lady’s maid had
prepared a bath. She had picked out a perfect pink gown with a see-through
rail. It displayed her body very well.

All was ready in Ferd’s room. His belongings had arrived in
the morning and the servants had hung his clothes, laid out his shaving
utensils and shelved his private books.

She opened the door between their rooms and found her bed,
pulled the blankets to her chest and left one candle burning.

Lettie did not see Ferd again until the next evening at
supper.

Ferd’s great aunts were up early the next morning, so he
breakfasted with them and then he had a carriage brought around to see them
home. Last night, with the help of one of the servants, he’d finally inched his
way to his room and silently closed the door between his room and Lettie’s. He
breathed a sigh of relief that he didn’t need to provide any embarrassing
explanations.

He did not sleep immediately. Just the simple idea of
bedding his wife caused a painful arousal and a deep well of anxiety he knew
would prevent his sound sleep. He handled his cock as he always did when he
felt such a strong urge. He was pleasantly surprised that his arousal was a bit
slower and the experience more intensely pleasurable, which he could attribute
to a night of drinking. He did not feel safe drinking prior to his consummation
with Lettie. The results could be even more disastrous than he already
imagined.

Thinking of his wife was strange indeed. He had a wife.

His thoughts had escaped some carefully controlled mental
prison and he could not stop thinking of her. Not as she had been, dressed in
blue, looking like a virgin, but as his man’s mind wanted her to be—naked.
Naked. Yes, that is all he wanted when he thought of her.

Lettie was a powerful force—the idea of having a wife as
sensual as she—well, it made his climax sweet indeed. She wasn’t mad. He was.
Only a madman would allow a woman such as his wife to remain alone in her bed.

He’d agreed to ride with Archer this morning. They’d both
brought horses into town that needed proper rides, putting them through their
paces including several jumping exercises that had man and beast exhausted.
After that, the day just seemed to have wings and more demands than one man
could meet.

When he returned to the house—he wasn’t ready to call
Whitfield House his home—Lettie was hurrying down the stairs wearing a
green-and-white-checked day dress with a scooped neck and fat sleeves from her
elbows to her wrists. He met her at the bottom step, her breasts near level
with his eye line.

“Oh good, you’re home. Everyone is champing at the bit,
waiting for supper. There is warm water in your room and clean clothes laid
out.” She took the last step and then stretched to her toes and placed a kiss
to his lips before hurrying away.

If she was going to kiss him, that was the way to do it. He
had no time to think, only react. The touch had been quick and warm and he’d
responded or at least he thought he’d responded well. He stared at her swaying
bottom as she hurried away.

She turned at the door to see that he was still standing
there—gawking.

“Hurry,” she said again.

If only she knew that hurry wasn’t his problem.

Tonight it was mostly family. They stayed at the dining
table longer than usual, allowing the older children, six of them in all, to
sit with the adults. Ferd had never enjoyed the company of family so much.

Lettie’s gaze settled on him once too often. He hoped his
discomfort wasn’t obvious.

Would he get by with another week of avoidance? If her stare
was an indication, he’d be lucky to make it through this evening but the needs
of the family came first and Ferd stayed up until the last man departed for his
bed.

The following night was the Peleseys’ ball. Lettie was happy
to stay home, Ferd insisted that the ball was too important to miss. The ball
was underway when they arrived. Rather than torture himself with anticipation
about their first dance, he swept her into a waltz, holding her close while he
endured the effects of her scented hair and flowery perfume and clean body. The
warmth of her made him dizzy with need. The result was the undeniable knowledge
that he wanted his wife. The price for his infatuation would be the
embarrassment he would have to suffer when he couldn’t perform. Was it worse
that she’d had two husbands to which to compare him? He hoped their wicks were
bent.

A virgin would have been better. They could have stumbled
through the awkwardness of the first bedding, both of them being embarrassed by
the performance. Instead he would have to wonder how she was evaluating his
presentation. Would the size of his cock matter, if he couldn’t do anything
with it except wag?

They were out until four that morning. Lettie had fallen
asleep on the way home and barely moved when he’d plucked her from the
carriage. For the second time he endured the heat of her body. It soaked
through him as if it moved through his blood. He left her on the bed where her
lady’s maid quickly relieved her of her gown and stays.

The next morning he ran out of excuses as the last of the
family departed for their homes.

When the door shut behind her mother, Lettie beamed and then
wrapped her arm in his. “Alone at last.”

“Yes.”

“I had Cook prepare a picnic basket for lunch. Would you
care to join me for a jaunt to Hyde Park?”

Ferd couldn’t open his mouth, let alone say no.

“Thank you for being so wonderful during this. No man should
have to put up with so much family during the first week of his marriage.
You’ve been very understanding.”

Lettie had been his wife for four days. She’d adapted as if
she’d done this before. Multiple times.

He didn’t know her. He didn’t know his wife in any way that
mattered.

And if he understood the law correctly, he had to consummate
the marriage for it to matter to those who mattered.

“A picnic sounds lovely.” He shouldn’t be so dazzled by her
but how could he not be when her smile lit fires in his groin?

“I’ll get my things. A half hour?”

“Take as long as you need.”

“Fifteen minutes then.”

Ferd wondered how long he could suffer wanting her and how
deep his embarrassment would be when he couldn’t have her.

* * * * *

Lettie sat close to Ferd as the open carriage rattled along
the street to Hyde Park.

“Where should we spend the summer, do you think? I have an
estate in Kent that is lovely through the fall, with superb hunting and a
well-stocked lake. I’m sure you would enjoy it and it would be a vast
improvement over the crowds in London. Or Scotland perhaps?” Lettie asked.

“Or Wales?”

“Wales would be lovely. Is it a favorite of yours?”

“I’ve only been there once, so no, I can’t say it is a
favorite, but very enjoyable certainly,” he said.

“Where do you normally go?”

Ferd smiled this time. “There never seemed to be a lack of
invitations and inevitably I would get swept up with some group doing this or
that and find myself in a new part of the country. Never the same place twice
it seemed. And you?”

“Oh I love Brighton. And Somerset.”

“I have a home in Brighton,” he said.

“Can we go?”

“If it is your wish, but be prepared that it won’t be up to
the Duke of Burnham’s standards.”

“What about there?” She pointed to a grassy place near the
water. “A perfect spot. A shade tree. A little privacy. What do you think?”

Lettie hoped she wasn’t trying too hard to please him, but
she did want him to view her as capable and generous and perfectly happy to
spend time with him. She tried not to dwell on the fact he had made no attempt
to bed her. Immediate consummation seemed such a time-honored tradition. It had
been with her first two husbands—the first one awkward, the second one dutiful.
Disappointment weighed in her heart. She had hoped for something more moving
and meaningful with Ferd.

Ferd drew back the reins and the horse halted. Then her
husband jumped from the carriage and hurried to her side, setting his hands to
her waist and lifting her down. Lettie’s hands were secure at his shoulders and
when her feet sank into the soft grass she stayed on her toes, pressing her
body against his. She threaded her fingers through his soft curls, now
windblown.

“Would you kiss me, Ferd?”

He tensed at her suggestion, even his hands at her waist
tightened, keeping her from drawing any closer.

“Is that a good idea? Here? In a public place?”

“It’s always a good idea.” She nudged him, using her hand at
his shoulder to draw his face toward hers. His eyes were closed, but that
didn’t discourage her. Kissing was a wonderful part of marriage. She’d wondered
why it was so wrong to kiss before the betrothal, but she had to account for
the fact that each time she had just wanted to kiss, it had always led to
something more. Perhaps that is why the strict mamas of the
ton
kept a
close watch on their daughters.

She pressed her lips to his, lingering on the firm warmth
before nibbling at his lower lip and then teasing him with her tongue. His
hands moved quickly to cup her head, his fingers digging into her scalp. He
held her while his mouth searched over her lips much the same way she had done.
His breath came hard.

Opening her mouth under his tentative caress, she touched
her tongue to his and then felt Ferd’s aggressive taking of her mouth. She
could feel a smile trying to interrupt his kiss.

Only it turned out to be another carriage that intruded.

He jerked away from her at the sound and then walked to the
horse, patting her head, collecting the reins and grabbing her harness as he
tied the animal to a sturdy sprouting shrub.

The carriage went on by.

“It’s a beautiful day, Ferd. We couldn’t have asked for
better.”

“Indeed.”

She grabbed the blanket from the small open boot behind the
seat. When she found the perfect spot, she unfolded the blanket, snapped it
overhead and let it settle to the ground. Ferd followed with the basket and set
it on one of the corners.

Lettie toed off her shoes, stepped on the blanket and found
a seat as her skirts billowed around her. She patted a spot beside her. “I hope
you are hungry. Cook was very generous with the sweets.”

Ferd swept off his hat and tossed it aside.

“You might as well remove your jacket, else Clark will
mumble about all the wrinkles.”

She opened the basket and removed everything, sorting things
in front of her.

Finally he sat beside her. “I’ve never understood the appeal
of the picnic. I can never be quite comfortable on hard ground, expecting that
an ant colony might find its way up my trouser leg.”

“But food tastes better when prepared by an adoring wife,
the sun shines brighter when shared with one’s life companion and I am happiest
knowing that every carriage that passes by will see me lazing the afternoon
away with my handsome new husband.”

“So you intend to stir all of the single maids to jealousy?
I wouldn’t have thought you to be so cruel nor I a man to rouse such raptures.”

“You don’t know that half of it.” She sliced a roll and placed
a hunk of ham and cheese in the middle before folding it in half and handing it
to Ferd. “If I were to tell you of the enraptured sighs and wayward hearts who
dreamt of Ferdie Ford—”

“I beg you to stop before my appetite is ruined,” he said.
Still, he did smile, which encouraged Lettie to continue her teasing.

“If it wasn’t your dashing good looks and impeccable manners
that were discussed, it was the quiet talk of your secret lover. A liaison so
discreet no one knew her name.” She gasped and set her hand to her chest. She
had not given it a thought before today. What if Ferd truly loved another? “Oh
Ferd! I have not ruined some grand love you have for another woman?”

Ferd stared at her. “Another woman?”

“I never thought. Oh Ferd, there isn’t someone else is
there?”

Lettie had been so set upon having him as her husband, she
had not considered the likely possibility that a certain part of the gossip
about him was true. It could explain certain facts, such as his delay in
bedding her.

She bit at her lip and then stared down at the bread roll in
her hand.

He gripped her wrist, his thumb brushing against the soft
underside. “There is not another woman, nor will there ever be.”

* * * * *

No amount of persuasion could convince Lettie they should
attend a ball tonight. Ferd’s body and mind were keyed on her behavior and
everything suggested that his wife was done waiting for him to bed her.

The kiss was reason enough to believe she’d welcome him.

The kiss was still humming through his veins, dancing a
lustful song along his thighs and cock, tracking a line up his chest and into
his throat.

He’d stayed in the library, where the very best liquors were
stored in a polished walnut cabinet, until Lettie had bid him good night. He’d
promised he’d be along shortly. Instead, he poured a healthy dose of scotch and
stood at the window looking out to the darkened garden. The outline of a
waist-high maze was just visible. A fountain trickled water during the day.

A full hour had passed while he stood staring into the
darkness.

He poured another drink and then padded up the stairs to his
new room, tugging at his cravat as he went. If his belongings had not been
spread about, he would have had a hard time staying in the spacious, lavish
room. Of course he did not have to stay alone. He could invite his wife into
the room and into his bed.

Clark was nowhere to be found. Had Lettie dismissed him?

There was no way to steady his hand or slow his racing
heart.

He set aside his drink, pulled the tails of his shirt from
his trousers and then yanked it over his head. His bootjack was near the door.
His boots were off quickly and he strolled to his bed where he found his robe
and slipped it on.

As much as he hoped Lettie was abed, he knew she wasn’t
sleeping. But he could not bring himself to cross into her chambers and crawl
between her thighs. His cock was hard in his trousers and difficult to
ignore—as difficult to ignore as his wife.

At the far side of his room, the overstuffed chair beckoned
and he sank deep into it. He propped one leg, bent at the knee, onto a
footstool.