SoundsofLove (7 page)

Lady Stonesworth had been more than comfortable. Cathryn set
down her cup with a clatter and glanced around for Violet. It was madness to
consider an affair when her own future was so precarious. Julian was
overpowering, but she needed to be practical. She was not independently wealthy.
She needed to marry, and Percival was already slated to be her next husband.
Her eyes teared at the thought of abandoning her liaison with the dashing Lord
Ahlquist, but she stiffened her spine and resolved not to be emotional about
this. She barely knew the man.

Her course with Percival was set, and it might be a fine one
if she gave it her full attention. Julian was a dangerous distraction who would
likely ruin her.

Why did ruin seem such an attractive alternative?

Cathryn lay in her large bed three hours later and emitted a
loud sigh as she finished reading
Fanny Hill
.

Fanny finally found her true love, a respectable gentleman
who combined delirious pleasure with tender affection, and she summarized her
wisdom gained from years of debauchery. “In the bosom of virtue, I gathered the
only uncorrupt sweets: where, looking back on the course of vice I had run, and
comparing its infamous blandishments with the infinitely superior joys of
innocence, I could not help pitying, even in point of taste, those who,
immersed in gross sensuality, are insensible to the so delicate charms of
VIRTUE, than which even PLEASURE has not a greater friend, nor VICE a greater
enemy.” Virtue was the enemy of vice, and Cathryn had always thought herself a
virtuous woman. Pleasure and virtue belonged together, but being a mistress was
not a virtuous undertaking, particularly when contracted to another man. Virtue
and vice, “the one, parent of health, vigour, fertility, cheerfulness, and
every other desirable good of life; the other, of diseases, debility, barrenness,
self-loathing, with only every evil incident to human nature.”

Cathryn imagined writing such a warning in her advice
column. She believed these words. The erotic antics depicted in
Fanny Hill
had been arousing and instructive, and she cherished the new knowledge she’d
gained about her person and the ways of men. But she could not in good
conscience continue on the path to self-loathing with a man such as Julian
Ahlquist.

The introductory words of Frances Hill haunted her. “My
foundation in virtue was no other than a total ignorance of vice, and the shy
timidity general to our sex…this is a fear too often cured at the expense of
innocence, when Miss, by degrees, begins no longer to look on a man as a
creature of prey that will eat her.”

Cathryn had been dreadfully naïve for a married woman.
Fanny
Hill
opened her eyes. Beyond the titillation found on nearly every page,
the author wove a tale of redemption and a warning to all ladies not to allow
themselves to be eaten alive by men such as the Earl of Trenchford.

Cathryn hoped for a great love affair at some point in her
life, a hope spurred on primarily by the foreign novels she and Violet read in
their beds at night; lush novels about love and hope and happily-ever-afters,
darker novels about foreign places and harems and sultans seducing innocents.
Geoffrey disapproved of such fluff, but Cathryn craved such romantic fiction as
much as she did clotted cream. Both added joy to her life with little penalty,
or so she had rationalized.

A glorious bouquet had appeared at her doorstep shortly
after she arrived home from church with a card that read,

With deep affection,

Julian,

Until tomorrow.

He filled her thoughts as the heady scent of the flowers now
filled her bedroom, a pervasive assault on her senses.

He wanted her, and she wanted him, but it was wrong.

Virtue was the answer. Within the marriage bed, a couple
could find bliss. A liaison would lead to self-loathing and destruction. She
already felt a rush of shame every time she considered his invasion of her
private place and her brazen reaction to him.

She had craved debauchery. What did that say of her
character?

And what of conception? She would die of shame if she
conceived a bastard child. Her father’s scholarly reputation would be ruined,
and her brothers would likely shun her.

Percival Hedges might not be Sir Galahad, but he was the
virtuous alternative. She owed him and herself the courtesy of a sincere visit
to determine if she could bear to be his wife.

She dreaded telling Julian of her change of heart.

Julian was in his breakfast room at nine when his butler
handed him a package. Setting aside his half-eaten meal, he opened the blue
cloth and found
Fanny Hill
and a note within. His blood began to heat as
he read the neat writing.

My dear Lord Ahlquist,

Thank you for the loan of this
text. It was most informative, but I am forced to concur with the protagonist’s
conclusions. Virtue and honor are both in peril if we continue on our current
path. It’s best that we cancel our outing today. I will send word after I have
visited Oxford.

Truly,

Cathryn Sibley

She was dismissing him? And she questioned his virtue and
honor and used his family motto against him in the process? The first woman he
ever seriously considered marrying? The injustice rolled over him in waves.

He had never been dismissed.

Heedful of the nearby footman, Julian tamped his anger as he
rose from his chair and strode across the hall into his study. He turned to the
last few paragraphs of
Fanny Hill
with a sense of foreboding.

Virtue would lead to “health, vigour, fertility,
cheerfulness, and every other desirable good of life”, and vice such as he’d
promised would bring “diseases, debility, barrenness, self-loathing, with only
every evil incident to human nature.”

“Bloody hell,” he muttered. “I’d forgotten the ending.” No
one read the entirety of such a book, at least no man did. He sank down into a
leather chair and his chest tightened uncomfortably. He’d lost her before he’d
expressed his new intentions. She was a woman worthy of marriage, and he’d
offered her only pleasure. This very day he planned to tell her of his change
of heart.

A proposal in the midst of the Elgin Marbles—what could be
more romantic to a Greek scholar?

To lose her to a man such as Percival Hedges especially
irked him. He’d attended Eton with the man, who had a cruel streak Julian
abhorred. Such a nature rarely repented, and such men made terrible husbands.

A trickle of resolve began to course through his veins. He
should tell Cathryn that he found her worthy of the ultimate gesture, and he
would handle Hedges on her behalf. He wondered again briefly about the lack of
children from her first marriage, but Sir Geoffrey failed to produce an heir in
a previous marriage as well. Perhaps he should wait to propose until she
carried his child. She had all the signs of a fecund woman—fine skin, ample
curves…desire to match his own. His prick thickened and he wished her with him
so he could begin testing her fertility. She was a remarkable female.

Her barrenness was a risk he was willing to take, although
he knew his mother would disagree. Over the years, the marchioness had paraded
one female after another under his nose, the only requirements being a history
of male heirs and a title above earl in the immediate family. Perhaps if she
had added good hygiene and a hint of charm, one of the women might have
captured his interest. But none had, and he tired of that hunt.

Now that he had caught Cathryn’s scent and found her so well
suited, he would not give her up without a battle.

His resolve hardened when he considered his adversary.
Hedges was in for some unpleasant encounters. Julian would enjoy tearing the
man apart. He was glad to have the power to deny him access to the Philological
Society. If it came down to it, he would challenge him to a duel, something he
had never done before. His heart pounded erratically at the prospect, and he
patted his damp brow with his handkerchief. He had found a woman worth fighting
over. And a man worth defeating.

Slipping her note into his breast pocket, he rose to inform
his butler of the change in plans. He would need his carriage early. Fifteen
minutes was enough time to inform Cathryn of his intentions and steal a few
kisses. He meant for her decision to be as easy as possible.

He would offer her virtue, honor…and pleasure.

When Cathryn heard the knock on her front door at eleven,
she hurried to the window and saw the Ahlquist carriage at her curbside. A
touch of anger at Julian’s refusal to obey her wishes was quickly displaced by
trepidation. He was likely upset over her note, and he would either scold her
or try to wear her down with physical advances. Waldemere’s warning over
Julian’s temper came to mind, and a stab of fear straightened her spine.

On the other hand, her virtue might be in imminent jeopardy.
That thought warmed her body.

Lewin opened the parlor door a moment later. “Lord Ahlquist
is here to see you, milady. Shall I show him up?”

She nodded, straining to appear composed with such conflict
looming. “No tea today.” He left and she rushed to the looking glass.

Two nights with little sleep had taken a toll; she looked
positively haggard. Pinching her cheeks and wishing for some rouge, his comforting
words came back to her,
I’ll not do wrong by you, Cathryn. Whatever happens
between us, I’ll take care of you.

Julian appeared behind her in the doorway and caught her eye
in the mirror as she finished her preening. He was dazzlingly handsome, and she
froze as he approached her. He had a wild look about him, as if he intended to
devour her. A frisson of fear crept up her spine, setting her on alert.

“The book was a gift, not a loan.” His voice was rough as he
set a bundle down on the table beside her.

By the time she turned, he was so close that her skirts
brushed his boots. Her voice came out a raspy whisper. “I meant no offense, my
lord.” The blood thrummed in her ears and her hands clenched at her sides,
although she had no true defense against such raw power.

“I’m afraid I took great offense at your note, Cathryn.” He
leaned closer and his eyes sparked. “I am unaccustomed to being dismissed.”

His intoxicating scent filled her space and she leaned in
for more in spite of her fears. His face hovered inches from hers, but she did
not see anger there. He appeared more wounded than irate, more aroused than
incensed, and she softened her approach. “I didn’t dismiss you… I only need to
settle my affairs before…”

He stepped closer and cupped her cheek. “You canceled our
outing to the museum.”

His touch nearly melted her resolve to avoid him. “We
shouldn’t be seen together, my lord.”

“Julian,” he said as his lips came down on hers. Full lips
kissed and nibbled at hers, sending all thoughts of resistance fleeing.

He backed away slightly but still held her cheek. “We are
colleagues on a scholarly endeavor.”

She smiled. “No one would believe that for a moment, my
lord—Julian.” She could not resist nuzzling her cheek against his palm. If this
was how he expressed his displeasure with her, she could take a lifetime of
such a temper.

“The truth is often an unreliable alibi,” he admitted. “I
only thought to examine the dictionaries of the world to search for words such
as
murr
.” He stroked her earlobe with his thumb, and a cascade of
pleasurable sensations washed over her.

“I’ve been considering Sir Percival’s character,” she said.
Julian’s hand stilled. “And I’ve realized I have no desire to anger the man.”

He nodded slightly as he backed away from her. “I knew him
at Eton. He’s one I’d rather keep at arm’s length.” He took her hand and led
her over to the fire.

This was an interesting wrinkle. “What do you know of him?”

“He mistreats servants and those with less power than he.”
He drew her down beside him on the settee.

“Yes, I recall the same.”

“I plan to deny his request for membership to the society.
His work is mediocre and he hasn’t published a translation in years.” He now
held both her hands. “Was he the only reason you canceled?” She was at a loss
for what she should tell him. “You mentioned virtue and honor.” He glanced at
the bundle of books. “I confess I’d forgotten the ending, or I would have torn
that page out.”

She laughed lightly, and his chuckle warmed her. “You know
why I canceled, Julian. You challenge my virtue at every opportunity.”

That seemed to please him. “Do I?”

“Indeed, the very thought of you tests my honor.” She was
beginning to throb, and she prayed he would dishonor her soon.

Instead, he backed away slightly and eased off the settee
until he was on one knee before her. Her heart nearly stopped.

He kissed the knuckles of both her hands as he gazed at her,
his golden eyes bright with promise and passion. “Cathryn Sibley, I should like
to place my honor and my virtue in your capable hands. I know you have another
offer, but I would like to court you as well.”

This was impossible. He couldn’t be proposing marriage. The
blood pounded in her ears as she struggled to understand his true intent. “As
your mistress?”

His head snapped back as if she’d slapped him. “No, of
course not. As my betrothed, the future Countess of Trenchford.”

Her mind exploded in turmoil. What did she really know of
this man? A wealthy earl, a minor scholar, a magician with his touch—in short,
one of England’s most desirable bachelors.

“Why me?” She searched his face and found only perfect features
and an air of disbelief.

“What?” He shook his head as if that was the last question
he’d expected.

“Why have you chosen me for this position? Because, I warn
you now, I’ll not have a philandering husband.”

He straightened and she thought she’d gone too far. “I chose
you because of your character, your intelligence and your beauty.” The air
sparked between them. He slowly kissed her knuckles again. “I chose you because
I believe you will help me become a better man.”

That was an endearing concept, but she needed to stay on
alert. “You believe you could be faithful to me—to any woman?”

His chin rose. “I do not plan to wander, Cathryn. I find you
most agreeable in that regard. From our limited interactions, I thought we
would be well suited as marriage partners.” She considered his words, and he
continued, “I only want one woman at a time—that has long been my preference.
At this moment, I want you. If we are well paired, I would not stray.”

Wasn’t that all she could ask of a man? In any case, she was
suspicious of his motives in moving so quickly. “We’ve only just met. What
could you know of my character?”

His voice warmed. “I know you volunteer at the poorhouse and
have the sense to use funds for practical matters. I know you sing in a women’s
chorus and write uplifting articles to inspire people. You tended your husband
during his illness and mourned him respectfully.”

“How did you know about the chorus?”

“I arrived to deliver the flowers just as you were returning
from church. My coachman asked your hackney driver where you had come from.”

She knew that must have involved some fancy maneuvering and
couldn’t help a smile.

He seemed comfortable enough on his knee, so she couldn’t
resist. “And my intelligence?”

“Your article in the
Women’s Advisor
echoes many of
my sentiments on social issues, and my quoting your words seemed prophetic.
Your translations of Sappho’s poems are the finest I’ve seen. Frankly, I am in
awe of your skills. I should like to see you complete your work. I quite like
the idea of a scholarly countess.”

This was an even greater boon. Her chest swelled in pride. “So
you want me for my brain?”

He sprung at her and pinned her gently to the settee. “I
want you for your bold ways when we’re alone.” He rested on his elbows above
her and shifted so he settled between her legs, his lips hovered inches from
hers. She hadn’t known lips could ache for contact, but hers did. “I want to
pleasure you until you whimper that you’ve had enough.” He glanced at the door
before he resumed his position on one knee.

She took a deep breath and wished him back on top of her.

“You warm my blood with your beauty and charms.” He took her
right hand in his, and she began to tremble as he removed her white glove. “I
should have let you stroke me yesterday with these beautiful hands.”

Pulses of pleasure coursed through her as he stroked her
palm.

Enough. She would have this man and suffer the consequences
gladly. “Go lock the door. Violet is away, and I told Lewin not to serve us
tea.” Julian gave her a questioning look but did not budge, so she explained. “I
thought to tell you I could not be your mistress, and that you would leave
posthaste.”

His eyes crinkled in amusement. “Before I lock the door, I
would have your answer.” He shot her a dazzling smile. “Cathryn Sibley, does my
petition trounce my rival’s?”

She nodded and tears filled her eyes. “Yes, darling. Yes.”
She was to be Lady Ahlquist, the Countess of Trenchford. She wanted to shout
her elation over winning this magnificent man and announce her triumph to all
of England.

Julian rose and lifted her to stand in front of him. “I’ll
do my best to keep your trust.” His kiss ignited her and his hands began to
roam all over her body, adding new flames wherever they tarried. Her breasts
grew heavy with desire, and she tore at his jacket, needing to be closer to
him. He began to work on the row of hooks down the front of her dress, all the
while ravishing her mouth. With a growl, he broke away suddenly and made his
way swiftly to the door, removing his jacket along the way. “We’ve only a few
minutes.”

He turned the key, and the sound spurred her into action.
She fumbled with her hooks and managed to free a few before he returned. It
didn’t seem possible that this was happening to her, here in her parlor with
the servants below, in the revealing light of day. Her breasts and sex ached
for his touch and more—he promised so much more.

It seemed an eternity before she was exposed to his hungry
hands, and he squeezed her gently, sending waves of desire crashing over her. “Oh,
Cathryn, you have glorious, big breasts, love.” He stroked her lightly. “The
finest caliber.” She watched enthralled as he rolled her nipples between his
fingers. “Beautiful, responsive…perfect.”