Regency Society
‘Then why do you not go to the source of the problem and talk to him? Why do you think it necessary to harass me over the state my marriage?’
‘I have been to him,’ her brother ground out through gritted teeth. ‘I took what I learned to Folbroke, just now. He was already drunk, though it was barely noon. And he showed no interest in my company, nor your presence in town.’
Drinking again? She frowned. Adrian had seemed sober enough when they had been together the previous evening. She had hoped that problem, at least, was in abatement. ‘And that was your only fault with him?’ For there was a significant matter that her brother had not mentioned.
‘Other than his damned stubbornness and bad temper. He barely looked at me the whole time I was there. As though, if he ignored me, he would not have to answer to me.’
‘I see.’ Her poor brother would be even angrier than she had been when he learned of the trick. ‘I expect he liked your interference no better than I do.’
‘Is it truly interference to wish that my oldest friend and my dear sister would find happiness with each other, instead of behaving in ways that are a scandal?’
Emily thought of the things that had occurred in these rooms, which, while exciting, were probably some of the least scandalous things her husband had done since their marriage. ‘Perhaps we shall. Perhaps I have my own plans to rectify the breach. You must trust that I can manage this. You are not married, and cannot understand what goes on between a husband and wife, even when they are not happy.’ She thought for a moment, and smiled. ‘Especially when they are not happy. Although it might not seem so, I find that I am quite capable of managing Adrian, now that I have set my mind to try.’
Her brother shook his head. ‘You had best manage this quickly, then, for my patience with his behaviour is nearing an end. If you cannot bring him home with you, by God, I will drag him back home by the ear. I cannot stand by any longer and watch him destroy himself, Emily. I simply cannot.’
She could see, by the look in her brother’s eyes, that his interference came not from a desire to control, but sincere pain at the way his friend was likely to end. She gave him a pat on the hand. ‘Trust me. A little longer. It will be all right. You will see.’
There was the sound of yet another guest, and Hendricks walked into the room, unannounced, as though he were perfectly at home there.
And Emily saw the narrowing of David’s eyes, as he came to a conclusion that was not evident to her. ‘Mr Hendricks?’
‘Mr Eston.’ There was a similar narrowing of Hendricks’s eyes behind his glasses, as though he answered some unspoken challenge. Then he looked to her. ‘My lady, I bring a letter from your husband.’
‘Do you, now?’ David said, as though he assumed there was some ruse in play.
‘I believe he wrote it at your suggestion, sir,’ Hendricks said innocently.
‘And you were able to deliver it here so quickly without stopping first to find Emily at my town house.’
‘Oh, really, David,’ she said. ‘Mr Hendricks knows the location because he helped me to let it. And if there is a letter from Adrian, you must assume that we are more simpatico than you know. Now, if you will excuse me, I wish to read the thing in private.’
‘Very well, then.’ He shot Hendricks another suspicious look. ‘But if I do not hear of a meeting between the two of you within a week, I will go back to Adrian, and tell him what I have seen here. I suspect he will find it of interest.’
When he had left, Emily looked down at the paper in her hand, thoroughly annoyed with her brother for spoiling what she hoped might be a pleasant read. And then she noticed that it was addressed to Emily, and written in the hand of his secretary. She glared back at Hendricks. ‘So my lord finally summons me, does he?’
‘Yes, Lady Folbroke. And he asked after you. He seemed most interested in your status, and rather ashamed of the length of time since he has last seen you and the fact that he has hidden his blindness.’
She sniffed. ‘The pangs of a guilty conscience, more like.’
‘He had just received a visit from your brother, and was concerned about the reason you removed from the Eston town house. Mr Eston thinks a gentleman is involved.’
‘Too rightly. And with your sudden arrival here, he has concluded that the gentleman is you. What nonsense.’
There was a long pause as Hendricks tried to decide how to respond to his change in status from servant to Lothario. ‘Of course, my lady.’
‘And my husband’s response to this rumour?’
Hendricks held out the letter to her again.
‘I see that. And that it is written in your hand. What, in your opinion, was his reaction to rumours of my infidelity?’
‘In my opinion?’ repeated Hendricks, as though he wished to make it clear that he did not speak for her husband. ‘He is jealous, my lady.’
She felt a brief moment of triumph, followed by annoyance. ‘So what is sauce for the gander is not sauce for the goose.’ She tapped the letter with her nail. ‘And has he set an agenda for this meeting?’
‘He means to tell you of his problems.’
‘And I already know of them. What is meant to come after this grand revelation?’
‘I think he means to come to some understanding between you.’
She tossed the paper on to the fire. ‘In which I am more discreet and he does not change at all. If that is the case, then I hardly need to stir myself, for I am having no part of that.’ She smiled at Hendricks, trying not to look as smug as she felt. ‘I am enjoying myself far too much to stop now. And if the thought of my happiness without him causes him discomfort, then all the better.’
‘Do you wish to send him a message to that effect?’
‘No.’ For some reason, Adrian’s sudden need to see her had angered her to the point where she could hardly speak, probably because she had worked hard and long to quash any hope that it would ever happen. ‘There is no message. If he asks, tell him I have refused. Since he has waited years to summon me, he should not be surprised to find me otherwise engaged on the night he is ready to unburden his soul.’
‘Very good.’ Hendricks frowned at her as though he did not mean it.
And he was right. It was not good. Her behaviour was foolish and childish. It should have been welcome news to find that he worried about her, pined after her and had worn the paint from her picture through constant handling of it. Instead, it reminded her of all the time that had been wasted. She resented being the afterthought to her husband’s infidelities, almost as much as she enjoyed receiving the attention from them. She sighed. ‘I am sorry, Hendricks, that I cannot make this easier upon him. His wife is quite out of patience with him. But I will wait upon him here, tonight, as I have done before. Perhaps he will be more free with his thoughts to his lover.’
Chapter Thirteen
Adrian arrived at her rooms that evening, so full of anger and indignation that he did not need to speak to show his mood. It was there in the set of his back, the tightness of his gait, and the staccato rapping of his cane against the parquetry floor. After a moment’s hesitation, she went up on tiptoes to kiss him, and he responded with a perfunctory peck upon the cheek.
Then he brushed off her advance as though he could not be bothered with it, tucking his cane under his arm so that he could tug the gloves off his hands, then tossed them into his hat with unusual force.
Emily stepped away. ‘I thought, after this morning, that I would receive a better greeting than this. What is the matter?’
‘It has been a trying day,’ he said with a glare, tapping about the hall to feel the bench beside him and landing the hat on it with a flick of his wrist. ‘When I am home, I prefer peace and quiet, uninterrupted by changes or surprises. But today it was impossible. Someone had taken it upon themselves to give me a pianoforte.’
‘Do you like it?’ she asked, although she could see by his expression what the answer was likely to be.
‘Have I given you any reason to think that I would?’
‘You had said that you were idle most days. And I thought, if you had something to occupy the daytime hours, then at night you would not need to go out.’
He closed his eyes and gave the frustrated sigh of a man pushed beyond the edge of his temper. ‘Did I not promise you last night that I would not carouse?’
‘While we were together, yes. But I am concerned that, once we are parted, you will forget your promise.’
‘Once we are parted?’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘Have you grown tired of my company so soon?’
‘It is not that at all,’ she said.
‘Or perhaps, after only a day or two, you think you have some claim on me, that you would reorder my life to suit you?’
‘A single gift is hardly an attempt to reorder your life,’ she said.
‘And a large gift it is. A large gift placed in a small space. When you know me better, you will find that I do not like the furniture rearranged once I have taught myself the lay of it. And your pianoforte presents more of an obstacle than an opportunity.’
‘That is because you have not tried it, I am sure,’ she said. ‘You do not need your eyes to play it. Once you learn the scales, you will find that you can make music with your eyes open or closed.’
‘So it is a gift of charity to the poor blind man, is it?’
‘Only if you choose to see it so,’ she coaxed. ‘Some people quite enjoy playing an instrument.’
‘I had quite enough of it, as a boy.’
‘You took lessons, then?’ For she did not remember hearing of them.
‘One or two. And then, in one of my father’s rare shows of sense, he fired the music master and freed me from the duty of it. He bought me a fine jumper, instead.’ He smiled as though he were remembering. ‘And a beautiful beast it was. He could take a fence as easy as walking, and went over the stone walls at the bottom of the yard as though we were flying.’
‘But you cannot do such as that any longer,’ she said.
‘Thank you for reminding me,’ he answered. ‘Neither can I shoot, for it would be a torture to the animals I hunted, more than a sport. From my father and grandfather I learned the dangers of pretending to be a gentleman—I no longer bother to try. And without your help, I have lasted longer as a rogue than either of them.’
She put her hand on his arm. ‘You might think I am showing a lack of faith in your abilities, but we both know that it is a matter of luck and not skill that has brought you some of the way. It is not that I have a claim on you, so much as I would not wish the fate you seek on anyone.’
‘And I have no desire to be led about on a pony, as though I am an infant. Nor do I wish to spend the rest of my life in the parlour, playing scales. Next you will be encouraging me to weave baskets or make buttons. Or maybe I can learn needlework, like an old lady. I swear, you are as bad as those meddling souls that incarcerate the sightless and train them like dogs.’
‘Hardly,’ she said. ‘And I have been to the blind school here, if that is what you mean. It is not so bad.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘It is not a school, my dear. Call it by its right name. The Blind Asylum at Southwark.’
‘It is called an asylum only because it is meant as a place of safety.’
‘Is that what you think? For I went there as well, while I could still see the place. And to me, it seemed as though it was meant to keep the sighted safe from the presence of those of us who are less fortunate.’
‘The children there are clean and well cared for.’
‘And taught to do simple trades as befits their intelligence, and their station in life.’ He sneered at her. ‘They are not taught to read and write and study.
They are made useful, and the training is done by men almost as common as they are themselves. My father would have ended his life before getting me, if he had thought that this was the only future that waited.’
‘And I am sure he is much more proud to think you gambled and drank and whored your life away, rather than finding some valuable way to occupy your time.’ His stubbornness infuriated her. But it was not without cause. Adrian had been a vigorous youth. And one by one, the things that gave him pleasure were becoming impossible. ‘If you do not like the pianoforte, then you need not play it,’ she said, in a soothing voice. ‘I will send someone to remove it tomorrow and that will be the end of it.’
But she could tell by his expression that he was not mollified. She put her arms around his neck and added, ‘If that is all that is bothering you.’
‘It is not,’ he snapped. And then muttered, ‘But the rest is no concern of yours.’
‘I see.’ She gave an audible sigh to let him know that she was pouting, surprised at her desire to try feminine wiles that she was sure must be long withered from disuse.
‘It was just that the damned instrument was followed by a visit from my brother-in-law, come to trouble me about my wife’s misbehaviour.’
‘And of course it annoyed you,’ she said with sympathy, stroking his arm. ‘It was rather pointless of him to bother you, since you do not care how your wife behaves.’
His head snapped up, as though he had been struck. ‘Do not dare to presume what I feel about the woman I married.’
‘I presume nothing,’ she said with a little laugh of surprise. ‘You told me how you felt not twenty-four hours ago. That it did not bother you what she did, and that you had no claim on her fidelity.’
‘But that was before she took up publicly with another,’ he answered. ‘And to think that I trusted the man. It upsets me that he can lie to my face. And it upsets me even more that he does not do a better job of it. I might not be able to see my hand before my eyes, but I can see through him like a piece of tissue.’
‘And who might he be?’ she asked, for it was clear that Adrian had formed an opinion.
‘Hendricks, of course.’
The idea was so ludicrous that she laughed out loud. ‘Are you still going on about him? I have met the man, and it hardly seems likely.’
‘Oh, I am almost sure of it. He has admitted knowing of her lodgings, and visiting her there. And he is quite clearly uncomfortable around me, as though he is afraid of being caught in some secret.’
‘And have you asked your wife what she has to say on the matter?’
‘I would have asked, had I been able to persuade her to visit me. I requested her presence this evening and she ignored me.’
‘So that is it,’ she said. ‘You are angry with her and everyone around you must take the blame for it. But you take no part of the fault for yourself, of course.’
‘I?’ He disentangled her arms from his neck.
‘If you had spoken honestly to her before now, she might not have chosen another. And you would be telling her of your displeasure, not some woman that you barely know.’
‘That is not true at all,’ he argued. ‘In my experience, I am doing nothing so unusual. Few men speak to their wives. When they wish to discuss things of importance to them, they seek the company of other men.’
‘And when they wish to unburden their souls?’ she pressed.
‘Then they go to their mistresses. When a woman is paid to do as she is told, she is less likely to disagree. A wife, though she might swear at the altar to be obedient, seldom is. Emily has proven thus. And I would have thought her the most tractable female on the planet. Until today.’ He stared up at the ceiling with a furrow in his brow, as though, for all his fine talk, he had never really believed her capable of leaving him.
‘And suppose you find yourself with a woman who owes you no obedience at all?’ She reached up to touch his face, putting a hand to his forehead and smoothing the lines with her fingers.
‘Then I would have a mind to show her a new use for her pianoforte.’ He kissed her palm.
‘Do you mean to invite her to your home, so that you might play a duet?’ she teased.
‘More likely I would be inclined to bend her over the stool for her impudence, and love her until she was more agreeable.’ His voice was husky, and he pulled her close, kissing her hard until his anger began to dissipate.
She opened her mouth, and let him convince her, marvelling at how little effort it took him to arouse her. A word or two, a kiss, a touch. And she wanted to be his. She pulled away, slow, almost drowsy, and murmured back at him. ‘You presume too much, my lord. Do you think you can force all women to submit to your every wish?’
‘Not all women,’ he whispered back. ‘Just you. Because you do not want chaste duets in the drawing room any more than I want to play a pianoforte. We are physical creatures, you and I. Not made to sit tamely to the side while the rest of the world dances.’
Emily had never thought of herself in that way before. But it was true. She was happier walking his land, visiting cottages and farms, meeting the stock and the people than she would have been sitting with her needlework in the drawing room, waiting for her husband to favour her with a visit. And when he talked to her, rough and low as he was doing now, she felt like a sybarite. The things he suggested made her flush with eagerness and not embarrassment. Instead, she focused her mind on more innocent pursuits. ‘If there is music, you would rather dance than play, my lord?’
He considered. ‘I have never tried. There has been scant little music in my life, these last few years.’ He swept her into his arms as though he heard a waltz and spun her once, bumping her into a chair.
She felt him hesitate, gripped his hand tighter and said, ‘A moment, please.’ Then she released him, righted the furniture and pulled him into the doorway of the salon. ‘Now try again.’
He began more slowly this time, and they took a few steps without incident. ‘I will lead,’ he said, ‘but you must guide me.’ He turned her again.
They were nearing a table now. ‘Left. No. Right.’ The turning had confused her for a moment, and they moved past it, rocking the china ornaments upon it, but not breaking them. ‘Now straight back for a bit. And turn again, another right. And there is a circuit of the room.’
He gave her a final flourish and her silk skirts sighed about her legs, and then settled.
Adrian nodded, as though satisfied with their success, and then dismissed it as unimportant. ‘Of course, there is no orchestra to keep the beat. And we did not have to navigate a room full of people.’
‘Dancers with all their sight cannot manage as well as you have done. It seems I cannot escape a rout without crushed toes and bumped elbows. And I am sure you would find a dance, with lines and patterns, to be easier. A drunken idiot can manage the Sir Roger de Coverley.’
‘Thank you for your confidence in me,’ he murmured sarcastically. ‘But dancing in a crowded room would not be quite so pleasant as holding my partner close like this when we are alone.’ He had her now, in his arms, swaying as though he still heard a tune. But they were far too close to be waltzing, their bodies rubbing together until she could feel them both becoming aroused.
‘I do not think what we are doing now can be called dancing,’ she said a little breathlessly, brushing her breasts against the front of his coat and feeling the roughness of the net bodice against her nipples.
‘What would you call it, then?’ he asked. His hands bunched in her skirt, pressing their hips together, but his lips brushed lightly against hers.
‘I think you are trying to seduce me again.’
One of his hands found the pocket slit in the side of her skirt, and reached inside to press his palm against the bare skin of her leg. ‘Am I likely to be successful?’
She rubbed her cheek against his. ‘I think you might be.’ She swayed against him, letting him urge her closer, slipping one of her legs between his and drawing her foot up the inside of his calf. He caught her leg between his, tightening his muscles, and she felt the now-familiar rush of feeling, knowing he was close to her, knowing what would come next between them.
She rubbed herself against him with a little moan, and he pushed her back against the edge of a desk, getting some distance between their bodies to put a hand down the loose bodice of her gown. ‘You are a most welcoming woman, my dear. Bare under your dress again tonight. I think, if I had a mind to, you would let me take you here.’
‘Yes,’ she said with a groan, thinking how wonderful it would be if he would lose control.
‘I could just hoist up your skirt …’
‘Yes …’ He was kissing her, short sharp bites on her lips, down her throat.
‘Undo a few buttons …’
‘Yes …’ One hand, tight upon her breast, the other in her skirt, squeezing her leg.
‘And I could be inside of you, before anyone was the wiser.’ He was holding her body a tantalising inch from his. And she pressed herself down onto his thigh.
‘Show me,’ she whispered back and pushed her hands between the buttons of his vest, searching to touch skin and not clothing.
‘Wait.’ He laughed. ‘Wait. There is time. We do not need to rush. Let me take you into the bedroom.’
But if they took their time, he would be careful. And while it would be wonderful, it would not be what she truly wanted. ‘No. Here, now. Quickly.’ She kissed him, deep and wet, pushing her tongue into his mouth, sucking his back into hers.
And for a moment, he stopped resisting her and pulled her hips forwards, wrapping a hand around them to lock her sex to his, grinding against her through their clothing. She wrapped her arms around his neck, lifting herself onto her toes, making it easier to join with him.
Then he pulled his lips from hers and gave a shaky sigh. ‘No, my sweet. Let us go lie down and treat each other properly.’
‘And suppose I do not wish you to be proper?’ she said. ‘Suppose I wish you to be rough with me, and finish with me quickly and carelessly, in a public room, because you cannot stand to wait?’ She ran her leg up between his thighs until she could feel his manhood and pressed hard against it, rubbing her knee against him until he groaned.
Then he unwrapped her arms from his body, trying to part them. ‘You do not understand,’ he said. ‘It is not that you do not tempt me.’
‘Then give me what I want,’ she demanded and lifted her own skirt to bare herself, pressing her naked sex against the front of his trousers, so close to him that she wanted to weep with frustration.
Without thinking, he swore and his mouth covered hers again, and his hand fumbled to open his trousers, pushing the cloth away until they were skin to skin. He parted from her, just enough to mutter, ‘Lean back, just a bit.’ And now he was resting between her legs, rubbing himself gently against her and peppering her lips with desperate little kisses. ‘Just for a moment. Just a taste of you. I will be careful. I promise.’
She smiled, trembling, waiting for the delicious shock of sensation that would soon come. ‘You do not have to be careful with me. Never with me. I am yours, Adrian. I love you.’
And then it was over. He jerked away from her so fast that it was as though she had burned him, hurrying to do up his buttons although he was still obviously in need of her. ‘I think, my dear, that we had best take supper. Suddenly, I find myself in need of a cooling drink.’
Emily held out a hand to him, remembering too late that he could not see it. But neither could he see her crimson cheeks, or the beginnings of tears. Then she smoothed her skirt back into place and wrapped her arms around herself as a shield against his rejection. ‘Do you really? Do you think I will forget my feelings for you? Or do you wish to distract yourself?’
‘Both, perhaps.’ He looked older than he had a few minutes ago. His face was serious and lined with stress, and his posture stiff and unnatural, as though he was guarding himself from her as well. ‘I do not think you understand what you are saying to me, and I do not mean to take advantage of a generosity that is based on lies and suppositions, no matter how pleasant they might be. You do not love me. You cannot.’