A Duke for Diana, page 27
She stopped his hand before it could go any higher. “You’re not still—”
“Oh, no. It ended when she found out I was fourteen.”
“Fourteen! Good Lord, you started young.” When he tried to move his hand, she tightened her grip. “How many of these dalliances did you have while you were sowing your wild oats?”
“A few.”
She arched a brow. “Perhaps I should sow my own wild oats to catch up.”
“You wouldn’t do that,” he said softly.
“What makes you so sure?”
Her hand still gripped his, so he had a fairly good suspicion this was a test. But the answer was the same either way. “Because my oat-sowing was finished long before I met you. I would never have a dalliance now. I love you. And people who love each other don’t have affairs with other people, especially once they’ve vowed in a church to cling only to each other.”
That must have been the right answer, because she released his hand. As he moved it up to stimulate her where he knew women liked it most, she murmured, “Your oat-sowing does explain why you’re . . . so good at this.”
“Are we going to talk?” he whispered in her ear as his cock thickened. “Or swive? Because in less than an hour we’ll be changing horses, and I don’t think you want to be doing this then.”
“No more talking,” she said and kissed him boldly.
He fondled her, loving how it excited her. And once he could feel her warm wetness coating his fingers, he shifted her onto the seat next to him just long enough to unfasten his trousers and drawers and slip them down to his knees.
“All right, sweetling,” he said, “time for you to straddle me.”
“What?” she asked, her face filling with confusion.
“This will be easier if you ride me. You don’t even have to remove any clothes. Here, I’ll show you. You put this leg on this side and the other leg—”
“Oh. Straddle. I see now.”
She straddled him at the middle of his thighs, and his cock got bigger and bolder. He loved that she was such a quick study when it came to bedsport. She drove him wild with her enthusiasm.
“Now,” he said, “if you’ll just place your knees on the seat and rise up . . . Not too high! Don’t want you bumping your pretty head.” Or his other head, for that matter. “Good, good. Now come down on my . . . on my . . .” He refused to call it a “pencil” ever again.
“The fallen females call it a ‘cock.’”
His would begin to crow if she kept talking that way. “I think those fallen females of yours aren’t very reformed.”
“Why? What do you call it?”
“A cock.” He went a little insane when she adjusted him so she could come down on him. “And you must . . . never say that word . . . in polite company unless you’re talking about . . . chickens.”
“Ooh, a naughty word. So, let’s see . . . I come down on your cock . . .”
Just having the tip of it inside her was driving him to distraction. “Farther down, my love. More.” He threw back his head. “Oh, God, more. Yes. Exactly like that.”
“What now?”
“You move . . . up and down. As we did before, but in reverse.”
Her face brightened. “Oh, I see!” And she began to move, hesitantly at first, and then more enthusiastically as his measured thrusts gave her the rhythm of it. “Geoffrey . . . that is . . .”
“Incredible? Because that’s how it feels . . . to me.” His blood pumped through him, a potion giving him energy, making him feel fierce, reminding him he was alive, as heat surged in him.
And it was all due to her . . . his goddess Diana making him feel this rush of excitement. She rode him like an Amazon queen of old, who needed no crop but her luscious body to get him racing.
“Your cock is so . . . hard . . .” she whispered.
“As it should be.”
She grabbed his hands and pressed them to her breasts, making his cock even harder. He caressed her full breasts through her gown and shift as best he could, glad that she wasn’t wearing the type of corset that covered her nipples. “Next time we do this, sweetling . . . you’ll be naked so . . . I can see you . . . in all your glory.”
“Oh, yes,” she choked out, throwing back her head as her eyes slid closed. “I would like . . . I want . . . I need you . . . my love.”
He could feel her muscles tighten around his cock, spurring him to find his release with her. This time, as he poured his seed into her, he prayed that it did take root. Because he wanted nothing more than to have a child with her, one life brought into the world to replace the one who chose to leave it too soon.
Clutching her to him, he kissed her bold chin and firm jaw, which showed her strength . . . and the rapidly beating pulse at her throat, which showed her vulnerability. A sudden flood of peace washed over him as she nuzzled his hair and his temples, her breathing still quick, but the pulsing of her muscles down below slowing.
She drew back from him with a contented smile. “Now, aren’t you glad you brought me along?”
“Gladder than you can possibly know. I wish I could remove your gown and take down your hair. I still haven’t seen you that way.”
“You know you can’t.” When she smoothed back his hair, he smelled her strawberry scent, but mixed with something else. Jasmine? He couldn’t be sure.
“You always smell so good,” he said.
“So do you.” She sighed. “I brought my sponge in my bag. But I forgot to use it again.”
He chuckled. “Why do you think so many women have so many children when some of them know how to prevent it?” He tilted his pelvis up against her. “Because we randy fellows are so good at this that we make you forget.” Then he sobered. “I love you, my sweet goddess Diana.”
“I love you, too, Your Grace.” When he frowned, she released a peal of laughter. “I love you, Geoffrey Brookhouse, whether you’re a duke or an engineer of bridges or an ironmaster. Although some day you’ll have to tell me what an ironmaster is.”
In that moment, he realized she hadn’t said she loved him until now. Well, he might have taken her love for granted in the past hour, but he would never take it for granted again.
Past hour? Damn. The hour was up.
The carriage was already slowing as it approached the inn where they would change horses. “Better get back into your seat, Diana. It may take you a few moments to straighten your clothes.”
“Oh,” she said dreamily. Then her eyes went wide as she, too, could feel the slowing. “Oh! Damn.” Throwing herself onto the seat across from him, she started putting her clothes into some semblance of order.
He laughed as he wiped himself with a handkerchief and restored his clothing to its former state. “I see I’m having a very bad influence on you.”
She tucked in her fichu with a saucy smile. “No more than I’m having on you.”
Only with difficulty did he resist the urge to sweep her back onto his lap. “I need to get out when we stop,” he said. “We have to make sure we’re on the same road as they are.”
She nodded and patted her hair. “Do I look all right?”
“Yes. You look like a woman who has been well-pleasured by a stalwart fellow.”
“Geoffrey!”
“I’m joking, I swear! You look fine. Why?”
“I want to go to the necessary while we’re stopped, that’s why.”
“Just don’t take too long. We don’t know how far ahead of us they might be.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Diana returned to the carriage feeling a bit more presentable. She had sprinkled strawberry water on the pertinent places and dabbed on some of the precious Floris Jasmine scent she’d bought the week before. She only hoped that if . . . when they caught up to Winston and Rosy, nothing of her and Geoffrey’s behavior showed. It would be hard to lecture the pair if she and Geoffrey smelled of sex.
She wasn’t terribly surprised to find Geoffrey still talking with the ostler as she approached.
“Here she is, sir.” Geoffrey pressed a coin into the man’s palm. “Thank you for your help.”
Once they were back in the carriage and on their way, she asked, “Any news?”
“We’re not as far behind them as I feared, perhaps even as little as an hour apart.”
She let out a breath. “What a relief. Surely we can catch up to them if that’s the case.”
“I should hope so. And they are indeed in a rented post chaise, so it’s good to have that confirmed, too.”
“Who did you tell the ostler that we were?”
“Husband and wife, of course. But Mr. and Mrs. Brookhouse because he’d remember a duke. It isn’t much of a lie—we’ll be marrying as soon as it can be arranged. I’m assuming your sisters will take on the task of planning our wedding?”
“I beg your pardon? All three of us will plan our wedding. And I might even let you put in a suggestion or two.”
“The only thing I want a say in is the food. I’ve sampled a number of Lady Verity’s dishes, and I am prepared to list them all in descending order of preference.”
“Let me guess. Marzipan anything is at the top.”
“Exactly.”
The conversation stalled as she tried to think of a way to ask him her most burning question.
“Out with it, my love,” he said.
“So now you read my mind, too?”
“Sometimes.”
She decided to just march right ahead with it. “What made you change your mind and decide to pursue marriage to me, despite all the gossip still swirling in Newcastle and the deplorable behavior of your distant relations?”
“Hmm. Well, first of all, four whole days spent not seeing you.”
“Oh, spare me that nonsense. You avoided me for three weeks after our first kiss.”
“Ah, but I hadn’t yet been ‘inside’ you, as you may remember saying.”
She felt heat rise in her cheeks. “True. Although we also barely saw each other after that.”
He held up a finger. “But not on purpose. And I lived for those glimpses of you. They were one reason I got up the courage to tell you the truth.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “After which, you gave me a lecture and chided me about not telling my sister and mother.”
Her heart began to pound. “Oh, no. Is that why Rosy ran off with Winston? Did you tell her?”
“I told Mother and Rosy, yes. And I don’t regret it. Thanks to that—thanks to you—I learned things I didn’t know. Like Rosy knowing more than I realized. And the fact that Mother had already heard gossip in town about the laudanum. Granted, she’d thought he’d had an accidental overdose of laudanum, but she did say my father was a fool for thinking an apothecary and a doctor would keep laudanum use a secret. At least she knows now that there was nothing she could have done. He’d been planning it for a while, apparently.”
“And Rosy? How was she?”
“Upset. Angry that he entrusted me with his secret and not her, too.”
“That’s to be expected. I think she gets tired of you getting all the attention and her getting none.”
“So she did this to get attention?”
“I don’t think so. I think she did it because she’s in love with him.” Reluctantly, she told him about her encounter with her second cousin at Almack’s. She waited for his reaction.
“So you think he might also be in love with her?”
Surprised he hadn’t condemned her for not telling him about the conversation, she said, “I do. Or at least infatuated enough with her to want to treat her well. He’s not a bad man, you know. He just sowed his wild oats a bit longer than you did.”
“To be fair, he didn’t start at fourteen, I would imagine.” He looked as if he was at least considering the idea of Lord Winston with his sister. “And you’re sure he’s not a fortune hunter.”
“Well, a fortune would certainly allow them to live more comfortably. Last week, I saw his grandmother while I was shopping with Eliza. We chatted a bit, so I asked what his marriage prospects were. Once I assured her I wasn’t asking for myself, she said they were good. He has a healthy allowance from his father, although he’s unlikely to inherit the title. But I already told you that, and I can’t promise that his brother, the heir to the title, will continue his allowance. It vastly depends on how their father’s will is written.”
“Did she say how much the allowance is?”
“I personally think it’s not enough to live on in London.” She told him the amount, and Geoffrey agreed. “But when paired with her dowry, they should do well. How much is her fortune, anyway?” When he told her the amount, she gaped at him. “You mean, all this time you’ve been worried about fortune hunters and her fortune is that little?”
“W-e-e-ll, I thought it was large when Father set it up. But yesterday, I received the bills for the gowns.” He winced. “Between that and your fees, I realized that a large dowry by Newcastle standards was a fairly small one by London standards, especially London nobility standards.”
She gave a rueful laugh. “No wonder neither Rosy nor your mother ever told us how much it was.”
“They couldn’t. I never told them.” When she frowned at that, he added hastily, “I was worried they would tell people indiscriminately, and we’d have fortune hunters beating down our doors. How was I supposed to know it was practically a pittance compared to the expenses of living in London?”
“Speaking of that, if they try to live in London on that little money, they would always be in debt, I fear, especially if they tried to live the lives they’d been living heretofore.”
“Do you think he’ll be faithful?”
“How can anyone predict that? I assumed my mother would be the faithful one in my parents’ marriage, but I was wrong. If you can find a way to determine that ahead of time, let me know. Elegant Occasions would make a fortune selling that secret.”
His brow was knit in a frown. “Actually, I might have a way to make it less likely that he’ll cheat. But we’re getting ahead of ourselves. We haven’t caught up to them yet.”
“Yes, and once we do, we won’t be able to discuss anything concerning your father. So I need to know what you mean to do about that. Because if you still intend to wait a while to marry—”
“No. Actually, Mother said something that got me thinking—that Father dreaded the possibility of being considered non compos mentis and feared having people think him insane. That’s why he went to such great lengths to make it appear to be an accidental overdose. He wanted to die, but also wanted not to be considered a suicide.”
“And it might also be why he preferred to frame his death as a possible felo-de-se by leaving you that letter.” She took a deep breath and reminded herself that he needed to hear this. “Perhaps—and I’m just saying it’s a possibility—your father might have been manipulating you for his own purposes.”
“Do you think so?” he said dryly. “Yes, that has occurred to me. After years of watching me side with my maternal grandfather, Father might have felt abandoned. This was his way to keep himself ever in my mind even after his death.”
“Exactly. In your mind and trying fruitlessly to find a way out of the box he’d put you in. Forgive me, but he sounds like something of an—”
“Arse. Yes, I realize he does. But honestly, he spent most of his life trying to fight his way out of melancholy. That’s why he drank, which only seemed to make it worse. Not that you could tell him that.”
The bitterness in his voice was laced with something else. And she recognized it, having been through something similar when her own family was shattered. “You haven’t yet really mourned him, have you?”
He sat there, clearly stunned by the observation.
Her heart hurt for him. “You’ve been so busy trying to meet his impossible requirements that you haven’t taken time to mourn him.”
“It’s just . . .” He scrubbed one hand over his face. “I don’t want to be like him. I don’t want to . . . lose my will to live.”
“I’m not saying you should throw yourself into the river over it. I’m merely saying you should make your peace with the fact that he’s gone. And with who he was.”
“A melancholy man deep in his cups, you mean?”
“And a man who cared about your mother in his own peculiar way.” She folded her hands in her lap. “By the way, melancholy is one of those things they consider when looking at whether someone is non compos mentis. If you have evidence—other than the letter—that proves his spirits were often depressed, you could use that to help have him declared non compos mentis. If it comes to that, that is.”
“I still say it’s better that it not come to that.”
She sighed. “True, but if it does, at least you will only suffer the awful gossip and the scandal of it. As far as gossip goes, people will talk. I know that better than anyone. You just have to take your life in your own hands and find a way around them. Rosy once told me you were considered quite the eligible bachelor in Newcastle. And you’re a success in your field, who has to be one of the more exalted graduates of Newcastle-upon-Tyne Academy. I suspect you’ll find more people to champion you than think you guilty of murder. I say you just brazen out the gossip.”
“Like you and your sisters did.”
“Yes. Like we did.” She reached over to seize his hands. “Honestly, there’s no real evidence to imply that you killed him, is there?”
“No. I did dispose of the other empty laudanum bottle in the Tyne. But if it ever did turn up in the river, no one would connect it to me.”
“Perhaps it’s also time you consult a solicitor or even a discreet investigator, who can find out if anyone is even taking seriously the rumors of your murdering your father. Or perhaps ask a friend in Newcastle. Surely you have some there.”
He smiled. “A few. I would hope none of them would believe me capable of murder.”
“And you did say that the dukedom came to you long after he died.”
“Yes, but that doesn’t prove anything. They’ll say that anyone paying attention to the title would know Father was next in line.” He squeezed her hands. “That’s what I get for not paying attention, I suppose. But don’t worry about it.”
