The Unmasking of Lady Loveless (4 page)

The Night Before Christmas

Getting to know her own husband over the past fortnight, Melicent reflected, had been a delightful experience. Christmas this year was far exceeding her expectations. Together she and Alex had collected holly and mistletoe to decorate the house. They had visited the nearby village of Fortune’s Folly to buy fuel and candles and a Christmas turkey (a great improvement on the pickled scrag end of mutton that Mrs. Lubbock had been planning to serve on Christmas Day), they had taken long walks through the snowy countryside and they had attended church together, where the gossip about the arrival of Lady Melicent’s handsome husband, and his clear devotion to her, had barely died down sufficiently to allow the rector to deliver his sermon. They had taken dinner with the Duchess of Cole and with Major and Mrs. Falconer and had been very merry in company, for Mrs. Durham was so miraculously restored to health that she was even prepared to indulge in a game of Christmas charades. Alex, on seeing Melicent’s raw and chilblained hands, had bought her some rose-scented hand cream and a pair of exquisitely soft kid gloves, and had offered to help her with her household chores, which Melicent considered a sign of
true
devotion.

Alex had already written to his agent to arrange for Mrs. Durham’s removal to Bath and for the appointment of a lady companion for her. Which, Melicent thought as she knelt to light the fire in the drawing room on Christmas Eve, only left the problem of Aloysius. She wondered what they were going to do with him. He had no obvious talents, unless it was for the wasting of money, he had no aptitude for study and he was too lazy to join the army. She moved over to the desk to light the stand of candles, smiling a little as she remembered the unceremonious way in which Alex had woken Aloysius up on the first morning with a can of hot water and the words “I hear that you are too idle to help your sister with the household duties, Durham. Well, if you want a fire in your bedroom in future, you will have to lay it yourself.”

Aloysius had sworn at Alex and thrown the can of water at him, but he was still up and dressed and shaved in time for breakfast, which was in itself something of a miracle, and he had helped clear the dishes afterward, albeit with an ill grace. Her little brother was thoroughly spoiled, Melicent thought, but he was also frustrated and angry in some way. Alex, with his own experience to draw upon, seemed to understand that, and his firm but fair approach was slowly yielding results.

The candles were good quality beeswax rather than the tallow they had used before Alex had arrived. By the golden light Melicent could see a couple of sheets of paper lying on the carpet beneath the desk. Alex had been writing letters earlier and she assumed he must have dropped the papers. She picked them up and glanced at the writing.

“He took the feather in his hand and trailed it tantalizingly over her plump cleft, plying it with little teasing darts and strokes until she was begging for surcease…”

Melicent gave a tiny shriek of shock and collapsed backward into a chair as she read the blueprint for her seduction.

Alex had been looking forward to this moment all day. In his pocket was the pearl necklace that he had brought with him as a Christmas gift for his wife. He knew it was customary to exchange presents on Twelfth Night, but he could not wait any longer. With each day that had passed he had watched Melicent blossom as they grew to know one another. They talked all day, and at night they lay in her little narrow bed and made the most perfect, passionate love. She was so beautiful in his eyes. He wanted to give her the pearls as a token of his regard for her. He paused with his hand on the doorknob. Hell, whom was he trying to fool? He had fallen head over heels in love with his wife and he wanted to give her the pearls as a sign of his love for her. And he was going to tell her so, too.

He opened the drawing-room door…. And was confronted by a termagant brandishing sheets of paper in his face.

Melicent was very pale, her eyes burning with fury. “Is this yours?” she demanded. “Did you bring this…this
smut
with you as some sort of guide to seduction?” The sheets shook in her hands as she started to read.

“‘The feather skipped a wicked path across the soft skin of her inner thigh and tickled her most secret place….’”

Oh dear. Alex grimaced. He had almost forgotten about Lady Loveless in the pleasure of getting to know Melicent properly. Now, though, he rather thought that some difficult questions were heading his way and he was not at all sure he wanted to answer them. He could see his perfect, new domestic bliss disappearing faster than Aloysius’s money in a gambling hell.

Melicent looked up, her eyes wild. “Alex, did you
write
this?”

“Of course not,” Alex said. He had the feeling that things were going badly awry. “Of course I didn’t write it,” he said. “You did.”

“What?”
Melicent shook the papers again. The words danced before his eyes.
Caressing…breasts…pert and round…tight pink nipples…
Alex swallowed hard and tried to concentrate.

“You think that I wrote this filth?” Melicent demanded.

“It isn’t filth.” Alex felt moved to protest. “It is very well written and extremely erotic.”

“I can see that!” Melicent snapped. She read a few more lines and a hint of color came into her cheeks. “Well, yes, perhaps I was wrong. I can see that it is rather sensuous and stimulating, but…” She frowned suddenly. “You said that you thought my writings were inspiring,” she whispered. “You said they were exciting!”

“And so they are,” Alex said. “They are nothing to be ashamed of, sweetheart. You write very vividly.”

“But I write architectural guides to historic houses,” Melicent said. “They are not in the least exciting.”

She put the crumpled sheets down on the desk and took a step toward him, eyes narrowing. Alex’s heart turned over. He knew what she was going to ask next.

“Did you come here because you thought I was Lady Loveless?” she asked. Then, when he did not answer immediately, her face crumpled.

“Damnation take it,” she said. “You did!” Her voice was bitter. “There was I thinking that you had come because you wished us to be reunited, when all along you were here to unmask me as the author of erotic literature!” She glanced at the sheets of manuscript. “You used what you thought was my own writings as a manual to ravish me! That first night when I thought you really wanted me for myself alone, when I thought that everything was open and honest between us, you were simply following a calculated plan!” She stalked away from him across the room. “When were you intending to spring this on me?” she demanded. “Were we to have selected readings over Christmas dinner?”

“It wasn’t like that,” Alex said. He rubbed his forehead, trying to think straight. All he knew was that he could not risk losing Melicent for a second time. He would not countenance it. So there was nothing for it but the truth.

“Yes, I came here because I thought you were Lady Loveless,” he said, “but as soon as we started to get to know each other I forgot all about it. I don’t care about the books. You can have written a library full of erotic literature for all I care! All I want is you. I swear it, Melicent.”

He stood waiting, his heart in his throat, as she looked at him. He could see she wanted to believe him, but she was not quite ready to capitulate yet.

“I cannot see,” she said in a small, hurt voice, “why you thought I could possibly be Lady Loveless in the first place. The idea is absurd.”

“I heard in London that Lady Loveless sent her manuscripts from Peacock Oak, under the name of Mrs. Durham,” Alex said. “The publisher let the matter slip. And then when I arrived here I found some sheets of Lady Loveless’s latest manuscript stuffed into the drawer over there. What was I to think?”

“Hmm. I suppose you would think it unlikely that Mama was your mysterious erotic author,” Melicent conceded. She tapped the sheets thoughtfully. “But if it is not Mama and it is not me, then there is only one other possible candidate, and I do not mean Mrs. Lubbock.”

They looked at one another.

“Aloysius,” Alex said.

“I can scarce believe it,” Melicent exclaimed. “He is only a boy!”

“A boy who spends a great deal of his time in the local gambling dens and brothels, unless I miss my mark,” Alex said grimly.

“I didn’t know there were any,” Melicent said, perplexed.

“That,” Alex said, taking her in his arms, “is because you are as innocent as I had always suspected, sweetheart.”

The door opened as though on cue and Aloysius Durham walked in.

Alex loosed Melicent and they exchanged a look. Melicent saw her brother’s gaze fall on the manuscript, saw him swallow hard and the color leave his face.

“What we were wondering, Aloysius,” she said politely, “is where you get your ideas from?”

Aloysius gulped visibly.

“Best not to ask,” Alex said, a wicked smile curving his lips.

Aloysius shot him a look of gratitude. “I did not realize that anyone knew,” he muttered, suddenly sounding very young.

“I fear you are unmasked,” Alex said pleasantly. “I must congratulate you, Durham. You have talents that no one would ever have guessed at. Your sister and I were wondering if you would care to move to London and set up in business properly?”

“Alex,” Melicent gasped, “surely you are not suggesting that Aloysius should continue his career as an erotic author?”

“Unfortunately I think that Lady Loveless’s career is over,” Alex said. Some steel entered his voice. “We do not want your sister’s name or your mother’s bandied about London as the author of these tomes, do we, Durham?”

“No sir,” Aloysius stammered.

“However, in return I am prepared to set you up in a small publishing business of your own,” Alex said. “I mean
reputable
publishing, Durham, though what you do in your own time is, of course, entirely your business. What do you say?”

After Aloysius had shaken Alex fervently by the hand and gone out, no doubt to celebrate his good fortune in the gambling houses and brothels of north Yorkshire, Alex pulled Melicent back into his arms.

“Which only leaves you and I,” he murmured against her lips. “Come along. We are going out.”

They walked through the snow down the lane that led from Meadow Cottage toward Cole Court. The sky was clear and the moon was bright and white, shedding its cold light over the glistening landscape. Everything looked enchantingly pretty and on the night air soared the faint sound of carol singing.

Melicent’s hand was warm in Alex’s. She was muffled up in a thick coat, scarf, gloves and boots, but she was so happy that she felt as though she was floating along in a ball gown.

“I suppose I have forgiven you for suspecting me of being Lady Loveless,” she teased Alex. “And poor Mr. Foster! When Mama said that he was the guiding light behind my work I am surprised that you did not call him out!”

“I did feel like planting him a facer,” Alex admitted, drawing her to him, “but thank goodness I did not. The man would have thought me mad when all he had done was ask you to work on his architectural guides.”

He kissed her, his lips cold against hers. “We are here,” he said drawing her down the path to Peacock Cottage. “Mrs. Falconer was understanding enough to allow me to borrow the house when I said that I required some time alone with my wife. It is not let at present. Meadow Cottage is very small and too full of people, and there are things that I need to say to you in private.”

Inside, Peacock Cottage was blissfully warm. Melicent shed her boots and coat whilst Alex lit the candles. A sumptuous cold meal was laid out, and two beautiful crystal glasses stood waiting for the wine.

“Are you hungry?” Alex asked.

“No,” Melicent said. Her throat felt dry with nervousness. To be alone with Alex, here, now…She did not intend to waste the opportunity, but even after all they had shared, when it came to initiating their lovemaking she still felt a little shy. She started to unfasten her gown, and saw Alex’s eyes widen in surprise and darken with sudden lust. An answering spear of need sheared through her, making her fingers shake so much on her laces that after a moment she was forced to admit defeat. “You will need to help me,” she appealed. “I must shamelessly beg you to undress me and make love to me.”

Alex made an involuntary move toward her, but then held back for a moment, his hands urgent on her shoulders. “Melicent, I need to talk to you—”

“Later,” Melicent said, reaching up, against his lips. She felt his body harden into powerful arousal as he returned the kiss, and desire swept through them both, hot and fast, deep and fierce.

“I expect there is a very big bed upstairs,” Melicent whispered when they stopped kissing for a moment in order to draw breath.

“Later,” Alex said, his fingers urgent against her breast, his lips tender on the soft skin of her throat.

As it turned out, the wide, cushioned sofa in front of the fire proved to be a very acceptable substitute for the bed, and when they rolled off that, the rug was soft enough. By that time Melicent had lost the last of her inhibitions and pushed Alex onto his back and straddled his thighs, glorying in his harsh gasp of torment as she eased her body over his, sliding down, taking the whole hard length of him tightly inside her. A wash of exquisite pleasure pierced her and she cried out, and then he thrust his hips upward and drove into her, turning her so that she was beneath him and he possessed her utterly, body and soul.

Later he carried her up the stairs to the enormous bed and they made love again, falling apart at last in blissful exhaustion.

“When we were first wed,” Melicent said, dreamily, “we were so
bad
at this! What changed?”

“When we were first wed we did not desire each other,” Alex said. A shadow touched his eyes. “I tried to be gentle with you, but I was still angry and confused and I think that you must have realized…”

“I did,” Melicent said, snuggling close to him. “I knew that no matter how tender you were with me, deep down you hated to touch me because you had been forced to wed against your will, and so I withdrew and was cold and reserved with you even though I loved you desperately.”