The Duchess Takes a Husband, page 20
The original crystal chandelier overlooked it all, because he hadn’t been able to part with it or have it moved to another area of the house, even though he had no interest in hosting elaborate balls here. They only lit it on fight nights, so the candles were dark now, the room lit with gaslight sconces as Jacob swung at the heaviest sandbag, needing to feel the solid resistance against his fists. Anger and frustration drove each and every punch, vibrating the bag. He was only just starting to work up a sweat, which meant he’d be here for a while longer, at least until the urge to replace the bag with Christian faded. He still couldn’t believe how terribly the conversation with them had gone. Thankfully, they hadn’t followed him to the gymnasium.
“Jacob!”
He swung around to see Camille hurrying into the room from a side door that led to a corridor. It was an entrance usually only used by servants, as members generally came and went through the tall double doors that were the main entrance.
“Camille? What are you doing here?” Through the fog of his lingering frustration, he noticed that her face was very nearly euphoric. Her smile was brighter than he had ever seen it, and her eyes were lit with what might be joy. The anger raging within him smoldered, dampened the tiniest bit by her happiness.
He hadn’t seen her in days, and the effect she had on him was palpable. He felt her arrival in the tightening of his muscles, every sinew primed toward her presence. A wave of tenderness threatened to overwhelm him as he focused on her joy.
“I had the most amazing evening and so I came straight over to tell you about it.”
The shock of her arrival stemming somewhat, he glanced around the room to make certain no one else had come in since he’d last noticed. They were alone, which made sense because it was late. “Women aren’t allowed here.”
“I know.” But she smiled proudly and skirted the rowing apparatus before coming to a stop before him. “Mr. Kostas very helpfully informed me of that as I attempted to use the main entrance. That’s why I had to come in through the side door.”
He chuckled despite himself. “You should go.”
“You should allow women the opportunity to better themselves through physical activity.” She tossed the words out with a playful confidence that had them landing softly.
“We have a gymnasium for women.”
“True, but it’s rather small and doesn’t have half of this equipment nor does it contain a fighting ring.” She indicated the roped-off section that took up almost a quarter of the room.
“Have you come to tell me that my female members want to take up bare-knuckle brawling?” he asked, wiping his wrist across the beads of sweat gathered at his hairline and turning back to the sandbag.
“No,” she said easily, walking to stand on the other side of the bag to keep her gaze on his face. “Actually, I have no idea. They very well might want that, but separate quarters isn’t equality, and I thought it was worth mentioning.”
Her smile lingered as he took a swing, a rush of energy coursing through him when her attention dropped to his shoulders and then lower. He had taken off everything except his trousers in order to avoid rips and the inevitable sweat stains on his shirtsleeves. While the impropriety of the situation should someone come in played a warning in the back of his mind, he quite liked her attention on him.
“Noted. However, I already received a nasty letter from the Society Against Women’s Suffrage when we allowed female members. This might just push them over the edge and lead to picketing outside.”
She chuckled and a little more tension released from his shoulders. “Doing the right thing will never meet with full approval. It’s a lesson I’m learning, which is why I’m here.”
“Is that why you’re so happy?” he asked, hitting the bag in a swift double punch. “That someone will find fault with you no matter what you do? Thank you for sharing, but I am well aware of that.” Enough frustration lingered that he still imagined the bag to be his brother. He should have demanded they fight things out in the ring like they had done in the past.
“I’m getting to the good news, but your surliness is putting a damper on things. What’s the matter?” A little furrow emerged on her forehead.
He shook his head, disappointed that he had made it appear when before she had been so pleased with whatever it was that had sent her here. “Never mind,” he said, taking another swing.
“Something has happened to upset you.” She stepped forward and gingerly took the bag between her hands, forcing him to stand back. “Tell me. Please?”
“I finalized the contract with Turner.” It was only as he was saying those words to her, as he watched the emotions play across her face—happiness, uncertainty, melancholy, and then happiness again—that he understood some of his terrible mood was because of that. Because a contract meant stopping this arrangement with her and leaving her behind. The momentary sadness on her face meant that she realized that, too.
“I thought that was a happy occasion. Shouldn’t I tell you congratulations?”
His chest felt tight, so he forced a breath and nodded. “It will take a few days yet to arrange the financing and everything here at the club, but yes.”
“Congratulations. Now tell me why that is a problem.”
Her prodding smile was nearly his undoing, and he found himself opening up without even meaning to. “Unfortunately, Turner told Christian and Evan about it before I could and they didn’t take the news well.”
“Why not? It’s a grand idea for a club. I even plan to attend myself.”
He couldn’t bear the way she was looking at him. Her eyes were wide and concerned, the liquid brown shimmering with amber, like deep pools of gold. They had the power to turn the anger he felt into something raw and aching, forcing him to look away from them to catch his breath.
“Evan was upset I didn’t come to him for the investment. Christian doesn’t understand why I want to do this. Why I need to do this. They both saw it as some sort of disloyalty to Montague Club or disloyalty to them.”
She put her hand on his arm, and he was so wound up from battling his anger, frustration, and the sandbag that the feeling was amplified by what felt like a hundred percent. His muscle rippled under the effect, prompting her to smooth her palm over his bicep and squeeze him gently. When she spoke, his gaze went to her mouth, his body craving an entirely different sort of comfort from her.
“Did you tell them why you need to do this?”
“Yes, but they don’t understand how I could feel as if I’ve lived my life in the shadows. According to Christian, my life is charmed and I should enjoy it, never wanting anything more.” He couldn’t keep the bitter edge from his voice.
“I am certain it’s more that they’re hurt than that they cannot understand you. For years it’s been you and them against everyone else, hasn’t it? I’d wager not many people believed Montague Club stood a chance against so many alternatives in London. You can’t turn a corner in this city without some pompous entertainment or bawdy establishment trying to part a man from his coin.”
He laughed despite the ache in his chest, then he said, “You would win that particular wager. We did it because we needed the income, in spite of the many who believed we would fail.”
“Of course you did. It’s only natural that the three of you would become a single unit working together. Now you are trying to break it all apart and they are resistant to it.” Her words were very reasonable, but he still felt frustrated that they were not more supportive.
“It is not my intention to break anything. I want Montague Club to continue. I want to continue our partnership. I simply want this for myself. I’m almost thirty. I need to prove to myself that I can do successful things without them.” He didn’t like the way that desire made him feel like a child.
“I know that you do, and it’s a perfectly understandable need. You want to be seen as your own person and step out from under the shadow of your late father and your brother the earl.”
He stared down at her in awe. “How can you understand me so well when they cannot? I’ve known them for the majority of my life.”
She shrugged and gave him a shy smile. Her hand dropped to his forearm, and he noticed she made no move to stop touching him. He liked that very much and found himself turning toward her touch. “You’re not difficult to understand, Jacob. Not to me. Besides, in many ways I feel the same. I don’t want to be Camille of Hereford. I want to be known for myself, not the poor rich girl who was married off because her family wanted stature more than they cared for her.” She paused and breathed in through her nose, gathering herself before she spoke again. “I don’t want to be pitied as the girl who suffered abuse.”
There was that word. He had witnessed her response to it during their talk. It was accurate but it didn’t sit right with her.
Her statement was said lightly, but that couldn’t disguise the very real pain laced within its words. He couldn’t have stopped himself from taking her into his arms if he had wanted to. He took her head between his hands wrapped in cotton batting and let his thumb stroke her cheek. “You are very much not that to me, Camille. I see who you really are.”
She smiled. “I know that you do. That’s why I came to tell you my good news first.”
He returned her smile without even trying. “Then what is this happy news? I apologize for making you listen to my grumbling.”
“I don’t mind.” She stared into his eyes, and the current that moved between them was so powerful he had trouble taking a breath. “I came to tell you that I went to the suffrage meeting that Lilian invited me to attend, and I heard Victoria Woodhull speak. She’s the woman who ran for president in America. I was very much inspired by what she said, what they all said, really, and I intend to participate.”
The enthusiasm in her eyes was unmistakable. “I am glad you went.”
“This is the first thing I’ve felt excited about in a very long time. I believe that I could help make a real difference in the lives of women.”
“You already do that with your work at the London Home, but I agree, this could be another way to help.”
She smiled and his thumb drifted to the corner of her mouth, loath to stop touching her. “You’re right, and I enjoy my work there.” She took a breath and her bottom lip quivered ever so lightly. “But with this I feel as if I can stop other matches like mine. I can make certain that women aren’t sold for status or money or the million other reasons families arrange marriages. If women are allowed to vote, then they’ll be allowed to work, to divorce, to not marry for financial support, and with that comes freedom. True freedom. It means they can walk away from marriages that aren’t working more easily.”
Pain had crept in to mar her happiness, and he couldn’t take the way it crushed her smile. It made the ache in his chest and throat almost too much to bear. Closing his eyes, he kissed her forehead. It was supposed to be a gentle thing of encouragement and support. A perfectly chaste symbol of his affection, but somehow he found his way to her mouth, and she was kissing him back and clinging to him with her fingers in his hair.
He released her as soon as he realized what was happening. This was not the time for sex. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to actually step away from her. His hand lingered on her waist. “I’m happy you have found something that is yours.”
“Like you,” she whispered.
He wasn’t prepared for the way his heart leaped at her words or the way he loved how they sounded. Her need for him was a balm to a wound he didn’t know he had. She easily filled all the tiny crevices in his heart. By God, he could fall in love with her so easily.
The thought went through him like the blast from a gun and propelled him backward. His hand slid from her hip. This was becoming too real. He had felt it the other night when he had very stupidly tried to tempt her to spend the entire night with him. This could so easily traverse the ground from friendship to something more that he was momentarily breathless. It didn’t help that she only followed him, stepping forward to close the distance between them as if unaware of the crisis taking place inside him. Even his heart seemed to stop when she pressed her hand to his chest.
“I like kissing you.” There was no artifice about her. This was less a flirtation than an honest statement of fact. “Could we do that some more?”
God, yes. He wanted to devour her. His good sense took over and he forced himself to check the room again to make certain no one had crept in while he’d been occupied with her. It also gave him time to manage the emotions she evoked without even trying. “Someone may come in here, and we must have a care for your reputation. In fact, you should leave before that happens.”
She didn’t seem dissuaded. “Not here, then. Somewhere private. I’d like to try again.” Her eyes were hesitant but hopeful.
He immediately went rigid with desire. Every good reason he had for turning her away fled and he was left with nothing but need. She had too much power over him. Even as he told himself this, he knew he would not turn her away. A single touch of her finger was enough to have him abandoning all self-preservation. All except for one minor thing.
“We can’t go to my room tonight.” Having her there would make whatever he was feeling for her even worse. He couldn’t afford to have a repeat of the other night, and that would happen if she was in his space. She frowned in response, but he hurried on. “There is another room.”
Her eyes widened as understanding dawned. “The room?”
“Remember how I told you that I have an idea? I believe it might help you step out of your head, but it will only work if you trust me.”
“I trust you, Jacob.” She agreed so fast that it took his breath away.
He watched almost as if he was outside his body as she reached for his hand. With slow and gentle movements, she unwrapped the cotton batting from his fingers and then his palm. The length of fabric fell to the floor unnoticed. She traced the lines on his palm, making the fine hairs on his body stand on end in pleasure.
“If there is anything I know, it’s that you won’t hurt me,” she said, her eyes threatening to swallow him whole.
Christ, he hoped that was true.
Chapter 18
Camille’s heart pounded a fierce rhythm as Jacob led her through the back corridors of Montague Club. He was still in his fighting outfit, trousers and boots, but he had donned a black robe. It wasn’t attire that he could be seen wearing wandering around the club, which is why she assumed they were taking the servants’ route. They passed a footman and a woman wearing the apron of kitchen staff, but the twists and turns of the corridor were otherwise empty.
He made certain not to touch her, however. He had reached for her hand the second they had entered the hallway only to stop himself before making contact. She assumed it was because he was attempting to preserve her reputation, as if both servants they passed weren’t aware they were alone together or the reason. Still, she humored him and made no move to get closer to him, even though she wanted to touch him. She did trust him, but she also needed the reassurance of his arms.
Something was different about him tonight. She had only ever seen him with his charming exterior firmly in place. She had long suspected that it was a shield of some sort to keep people at length, and a very large part of her was glad to get a glimpse behind it to the real man beneath. But a very tiny part of her, one that she was trying to overcome, was a bit apprehensive.
Each twist of the corridor seemed to make her heart beat faster. She hadn’t intended sex tonight. She had simply been so overcome with excitement that she had wanted to share it with someone and he was the first person who came to mind. He would understand how she felt and why it was important for her. The idea of sex had seemed like a natural extension of that celebration, which was odd because sex had never been that for her. It had never been anything but an obligation before Jacob had showed her what was possible. Taking their joyfulness to something more intimate had seemed natural.
Now her heart was pounding in her ears when he stopped before a plain, white-lacquered door. There was nothing remarkable about it, except that it was at the end of the hall. He gave her a measured look that seemed to gauge for resistance, before turning the key in the lock and pushing it open.
The room beyond was dimly lit with a single sconce throwing pale yellow light over half the room. A large piece of furniture that appeared to be a round bed took up the center of the room. It was so large that she could have easily curled herself into the lush cushions for a night of sleep, although Jacob’s feet might hang off the side. She really didn’t think it was used for sleeping, however. It was covered with a simple white sheet, with a pile of pillows in the middle. Aside from that the room was mostly bare. There was no window and each of the four walls held a large gilt-framed mirror.
“This is that room?”
“Yes.”
“Really? I admit I’m disappointed. I had expected . . .” What had she expected? She didn’t know enough to anticipate the various apparatuses that one might need for adventurous sexual encounters, but she had imagined there would be more than a bed and mirrors.
“There are other items available if one chooses to use them, but I thought we might hold off on those.” A smile was in his voice, as his hand on her back gently guided her into the room.
She was only dimly aware of the click of the door closing behind her and the turn of the lock. He put the key in the pocket of his robe. Intrigued by the other items, she took a tour of the room in search of what he meant. Now that her eyes had adjusted to the lighting, she could see the walls were covered in a blue velvet so dark that it was very nearly black. It appeared soft and luxurious, drawing her hand as she made her way around the room. There were other details she had originally missed. Leather cuffs hung from a knob near the ceiling on the far side of the room, while another wall was empty save for a series of pegs where she assumed various accoutrements were supposed to go.
