Chapter 11
D rury Lane was alive and vibrant, the theatre packed to the rafters now that the social season was in full swing. The performers of The Maid of Artois were not particularly talented, but as the opera was in English, the audience was more attentive than it usually was for the Italian operas.
Simon did not include himself among their number. His attention had been wholly taken up by Hannah, who had been looking forward to tonight since they had received the invitation, and he wanted it to be perfect for her.
And perfect for him. Tonight, Simon was trying his best to woo Hannah as Rothsay suggested, but he was uncertain about his success.
The private box had delighted Hannah along with finding Cat, the Bellas, and Lady Balfour already seated in it. Simon had been her faithful escort all night, but it had been difficult to court her as she kept being drawn into discussing the latest gossip with the ladies.
The headline was that four hasty engagements had been born from the Partridge ball last Friday, which was a record for the ton . That Lady Partridge was of impeccable moral reputation only made the events of her ball even more scandalous. It was said Lady Partridge had taken to her bed before the ball had even ended and had yet to emerge all these days later.
The ladies had only just finished placing wagers on when Lady Partridge might emerge when the opera had begun. Hannah had become enthralled by the performance, which had enthralled him.
Sapphire eyes shining with delight, the apples of her cheeks pink with excitement, her smile radiant, Hannah was in her element here. She sat tall in her chair, occasionally leaning forward to comment to Cat about the performance.
The Hannah that sat beside him was a different woman than the one he had journeyed to London with. That Hannah had hidden herself away at Cosburn Park, the blow of losing John making her insulate herself from the world in the hope that Fate would not strike out at her again.
The Hannah that sat beside him tonight fed off of people and excitement and socialization. She was meant to be a member of the ton , attending the plethora of events and playing hostess herself.
And Simon had been the one to bring her into the world where she belonged.
Not John. Even as the heir to a title, John had no love for London or any place beyond his family estate. If Hannah had married him, he would have wanted to keep her hidden away in Kent in his pastoral life.
A life she might not have enjoyed as much as the one she now had.
As the second act concluded, Hannah sat back in her chair, applauding and excitedly grinning at Simon.
“The arrival of the marquis was quite impressive. I wonder how they got the prow of the ship on the stage.”
“I believe it is a leftover from the last performance of The Tempest ,” Simon told her.
“Oh, I would have loved to have seen it.”
“As someone who did, you would not. The actor who portrayed Prospero was foxed and fell off the prow, leaving the doll of the infant Miranda to bounce off the stage and horrify the ladies in the front row.”
Hannah tossed her head back as she laughed, snorting twice in quick succession before she clapped both hands over her mouth. Simon laughed at her, and she composed herself enough to swat his arm.
“You should not make me laugh like that,” she admonished him. “You know I snort when you do that.”
“And that is exactly why I do it.”
“You are incorrigible!” She gave him another playful swat to the arm, but this time her hand lingered on him, her fingers delicately tracing the seam of his coat sleeve as she leaned closer to him. “Does it make me incorrigible that if I had witnessed that doll bounce across the stage, I would have dissolved into snorting laughter even if we were sitting in a duke’s private box?”
The jasmine perfume she had dabbed on her neck filled his nose, and he had to blink several times before he could answer. “Not incorrigible. It would make you a wicked girl.”
Desire flashed in her sapphire eyes as she gazed at him. It was a bittersweet sight, knowing that there was nothing he could do to indulge it while they were in public.
All he could do now was play the perfect gentleman suitor and offer to retrieve her refreshments. With the added bonus that it would put distance between them in case he forgot propriety and indulged her desire right here.
“Allow me to bring you a drink,” he said, and he moved to where a servant waited with a bottle of champagne and requested a glass.
“Mr. Langley is the picture of attentiveness,” one of the Bellas remarked, trying to keep her voice low, but neither of the young girls excelled at modulation. “I do hope I am lucky enough to find a husband so thoughtful.”
“I hope you are as well,” Hannah replied. “I hope all ladies are lucky enough to find a husband like Mr. Langley.”
It was encouraging to hear she hoped the girls would marry men like him. That must mean she was softening to him, or at the least, she thought him a tolerable husband.
Or was it simply that she hopes the girls are lucky enough to find a husband who does not beat them?
No, he would not allow himself to be swallowed up by disquiet tonight.
Ladies wanted a confident man, not an anxious man.
He returned to his seat next to Hannah, handing her the glass as the performers took their places on the stage to the pit’s applause. The tenor who was portraying Jules lay his head in the lap of the contralto portraying Isoline as the orchestra began the final act of the opera.
The contralto sang, her notes filled with such longing, drawing the audience away from their conversations and into silence as they listened to her lament the dire state of her beloved as they struggled through the bleak desert.
Simon glanced at Hannah and was arrested upon seeing the tears that streaked down her cheeks. He reached for her hand, taking it in his own, palm to palm, offering her silent comfort. Her fingers threaded through his, linking herself to him as she turned to meet his gaze.
Tears shimmered in her eyes, along with an inner light that made his heart pound in his chest. There was a warmth there, but different from the heat of desire she had gazed at him with earlier.
She had looked at him with affection before, but it had always been innocent. Platonic. Even familial at times.
Her expression now was entirely different from that, unfamiliar but comforting, like sinking into a hot bath after a long journey.
Might it be romantic affection? Was his plan to court her working?
He lifted the hand he held so he could press a kiss to it, and she smiled dreamily at him.
Perhaps it was.
They held hands through the end of the opera, only letting go to applaud the singers once they took their bows.
Stagehands struck the set and began to install a new one for the next performance; meanwhile, more lamps were lit to allow the audience to mingle. It was the perfect time for those in the boxes to visit each other and it was not any surprise when Caroline and her mother appeared in the Vaughan’s box.
“I spotted you sitting in Lord Vernon’s box,” Hannah said to Caroline. “Are you his guest tonight?”
“His mother’s,” Caroline replied. “Which is a friendship I may have to let whither. Lord Vernon is as entertaining as a cold.”
Hannah gave her a sympathetic pat on the arm. “I am sorry. I knew you held high hopes for him.
“He is so handsome,” Caroline said with a sigh. “It is wrong that someone so handsome should be so absolutely dull. The Good Lord should not allow it.”
“Handsome men, in my experience, do not need to develop a personality like the rest of us,” Simon remarked.
“Nonsense,” Hannah said. “You perfectly illustrate that men can be handsome and possess personality in spades.”
She said it offhandedly, but Simon felt as if he were ten feet tall. It was not the first time a woman had complimented him, but it was the first time the compliment had come from the only woman he ever wanted to hear them from.
“You flatter me.” He grinned at his wife. “Which is exactly as I deserve.”
Hannah laughed. “Indeed you do. And Caroline deserves to find a husband as good as you.”
Another compliment that made her cheeks warm, and he noticed Caroline looking thoughtfully between the two of them. Had she noticed the change in Hannah as well? After all, Caroline had known her forever. Who else better to notice a change if not her dearest friend?
Should he find a chance to ask Caroline in private if she noticed?
No, absolutely not. That would be the mark of a desperate man.
Ladies wanted a confident man, not a desperate man.
Caroline shook her head. Whatever she thought, she was not ready to vocalize. “I did not see you in the Park today.”
“I called on a neighbour today,” Hannah explained. “Lady Mount. I sought her assistance with the mystery of the letters I told you about.
“The letters you found in your house?” Hannah nodded. “Was she familiar with the writer?”
“Unfortunately, no. She did tell me that the house has been let many times over the decades. Which means it could be anyone who wrote the mystery letters.”
“Mystery letters?” Miss Arabella interjected into the conversation as she leaned forward in her chair. “You wrote mystery letters?”
“I did not write them. I found them.” Hannah related to Miss Arabella the story of stumbling across the letters, drawing the attention of the other ladies in the box as she detailed their contents.
“I initially read them with the hope of finding the owners so that I might return them. However, they were so compelling, I could not help but read them all. They were love letters to the woman his brother was courting.”
“Oh, how romantic,” Miss Isabella said with a sigh. “Did she jilt his brother and run off with him?”
“I do not know. There were no names in the letters. No addresses or postmarks. The seals had dried up and cracked by the time found them. It is impossible to tell if the mysterious Miss P received them. For all I know, I am the first one to ever read them.”
“He must have delivered them,” Caroline said. “Otherwise, he would have destroyed them. Only the lady who received them would keep them.”
“Yet she hid them away in the wall,” Miss Arabella said. “She would only do that if it went wrong. If she chose the writer over her brother after reading the letters, she would have cherished them. She must have rejected the writer.”
“But why hide the letters?” Cat asked. “Would she not destroy them if she rejected him in favour of the brother?”
“She would only destroy them if she was disgusted or angry at him,” Hannah asserted. “She must have saved them because she was sympathetic to him. The letters show that Miss P considered him a friend. She likely cared for him and was sad she could not love him back the way he wanted. One cannot force the heart to love someone it does not.”
Simon may have felt ten feet tall before, but Hannah’s words had him shrinking to even smaller than his normal size. Yes indeed, one cannot force the heart to love someone it does not love, regardless of gestures or overtures made.
Just as Miss P could only love the unnamed brother, Hannah could only love John.
Just as Isoline had grieved for her Jules, Hannah would always grieve the loss of her John.
Hannah’s heart only belonged to John and was not capable of loving anyone else.
Simon had been a fool to think that sitting in a duke’s box or promenading in Hyde Park might somehow change that fundamental truth. He and Hannah might now be bound together in the eyes of God and men, but it meant nothing beyond a forced marriage.
He needed to abandon any foolish notions of making her fall in love with him. He should be grateful that he at least had the privilege of being with her in what capacity he could.
She welcomed him into her bed and enjoyed him as a friendly companion. He was a faithful lapdog to her, just like Lady Mount’s pugs.
He needed to take what he could get and be happy he had anything.
***
The night had been a long one, and Hannah stifled a yawn as she climbed into the carriage. A gentleman courting one of the Bellas had invited them to a late-night supper at his family home after the theatre. It was a seven-course meal, and they only bid goodnight to their hosts as the sun brightened the sky.
Lady Rothsay promised to call on her with the Bellas soon so they might discuss the mystery of the hidden letters further. Throughout the night, various theories about the hidden letters were put forward by different people. Lady Rothsay posited that the Officer hid the letters because he feared his brother would find them. Miss Isabella was convinced that the Officer had called out his brother before he proposed and he had won the duel, but was apprehended before he could flee the country with Miss P.
And Miss Arabella devised a tale featuring the Officer’s elderly and eccentric aunt, who had been a Crown spy in her youth. Discovering the letters during a bout of delirium, the aunt mistook them for communications from the Napoleon sympathizers she was watching. She promptly stashed them away, ensuring they would remain safe until she could turn them over to the Home Office.
Although that theory was the most absurd, it appealed the most to Hannah. She liked that her new friends were as imaginative as her.
Yet despite their active imaginations, she was uncertain how deep into the investigation she wanted to invite them. The idea of sharing the Officer’s words with others made her uncomfortable. He had poured his heart out to his beloved and imagined no one but her would read his letters.
The carriage shifted as Simon climbed in next to her, knocking on the roof to signal they were ready to head home.
He had been silent throughout most of the supper. Perhaps he found her conversations with the ladies somewhat childish, and his silence could have been a subtle way of concealing his boredom from her and the others.
“I apologize that the ladies took my attention away tonight,” she told him. “I feel as if I was inattentive to you after the theatre.”
“Not at all,” he said. “And you need never apologize to me for enjoying your friendships.”
“You did not provide your usual critique after the theatre and you were very quiet at supper,” she said. “Is something troubling you?”
He settled his head against the back of the bench and sighed. “I suppose I was lost in my thoughts.”
“What were you thinking about?”
He turned his head to look out the carriage window. “It will take some time for us to reach the house with the early morning deliveries.”
Indeed, the streets were filling with wagons and carts going about their early morning routes and would make for slow going.
Simon drew the curtains over the windows, blocking out the morning sun and dimming the noise from the streets.
“Our travel time is what you were thinking about so earnestly?”
“No.”
In the shadowy interior, she struggled to make out his features, only seeing his feral grin when he pulled her into an unexpected and passionate embrace.
My, my, he knew exactly how to overwhelm her…and she welcomed it every single time.
Strong arms banded around her, the spicy scent of his frankincense cologne enveloping her as he kissed her. She was pliant and opened to him immediately, meeting every stroke of his tongue with her own, nipping at his bottom lip and grinning when he groaned in response.
She climbed over to straddle his lap, but her skirts bunched up around her hips, preventing proper contact. She let out a frustrated breath, breaking their kiss to paw her skirts out of the way. Simon helped her with them, his hands as frantic as hers as they pulled aside the fabric.
When his hands found her skin, he hummed in satisfaction, gently stroking her thighs just above the top of her stockings, goosebumps blooming in their wake.
Heat burned through her, swirling tight, concentrating in her core as if she might burn from the inside out with want for him.
Her hand went to his nape, fingers threading through his hair and then gripping tightly. She pulled his head back so she could meet his eyes, amber pools that smouldered with desire. Hannah held his gaze as she settled firmly in his lap, her bare mound cradling his linen-covered hardness.
He groaned, his grip on her thighs tightening as his pupils widened until his eyes were black, as solid and unyielding as his manhood.
“Was this what you were thinking about?” she asked, circling her hips, and he bucked up into her in response.
“Not quite,” he panted in reply. Confusion barely settled over her before his hands left her thighs to free her breasts from corset and dress so they were displayed to him. He grinned as her nipples pebbled in the cool air. “These were.”
He took one in his mouth, licking and sucking, teeth stripping along the stiff tip, making her tremble. Her hands in his hair no longer pulled at the strands, instead stroking softly as she encouraged him to feast on her sensitive flesh.
His thick fingers threaded through the glossy curls between her thighs to find her swollen bud, circling it firmly and drawing a keening wail from her. Simon was truly gifted with his fingers, knowing exactly how to draw out such wicked pleasure. Every time they came together, he would work her into such a frenzy, thought was no longer possible.
As much as she wanted her own pleasure, that was not what she intended for tonight.
“You always do this,” she chastised him, ending on a moan when one of his thick fingers entered her. “You overwhelm me and do not let me pleasure you first.”
He licked along the length of her throat, teeth nipping at her shoulder as he slipped another finger inside her. Her inner muscles clenched around the digits, and she felt him grin against her shoulder. “If I let you please me first, I would not be a gentleman. Ladies first is proper manners everywhere, including the bedchamber.”
“But we are in the carriage.”
Her contradiction earned her a laugh from him as he continued to stroke her heated flesh with purpose, determined to make her climax.
While she appreciated his consideration, she wanted to please him as well. She fought through the haze of pleasure and dropped her hand between them, palming his manhood and squeezing. His hips rose to meet her hand as he groaned.
“You will not win this,” Hannah told him with a chuckle as she made quick work of the buttons on his trousers. She wrapped a hand around his thick shaft, squeezing him before sliding up the length of him. “I will have my way with you.”
“You want to have your way with me?” She nodded enthusiastically. “Very well. Then ride me, wife.”
She held the base of his manhood, keeping him steady as she lifted herself above him. They both hummed in pleasure as his swollen head slipped through her wet folds before lining up with her core.
She slowly lowered herself, relishing every inch as he filled her, drawing out the sweet ache until she firmly settled in his lap, taking him to the hilt. She pressed her forehead against his, their panting breaths mingling in the small space between them, luxuriating in the sensations. The pull of her inner thigh muscles, the fullness that stretched her core, the slip of wet flesh pressed together.
He ran a hand down her throat to her chest, stopping between her breasts. He must feel her heart hammering against his palm where it rested. She tentatively rocked her hips, testing her own pace as she began to ride him.
Her movements were jerky at first as she tried to find a proper rhythm, lifting and sinking back down again and again. Simon allowed her all the time she needed to learn, sitting back and watching her experiment on him.
She finally found the proper angle when she leaned back, her hands braced on his knees, canting her hips up just right so his member hit a sensitive spot. Then she began to ride him in earnest, bouncing on his lap as she panted and gasped.
Simon’s gaze was two smoldering coals that raked over her body. “You make a beautiful portrait riding my cock, wife.”
He sent a hand between them, seeking her sensitive bud again. When he stroked her, she cried out, inner muscles gripping down on him as she pumped her hips.
“Am I pleasing you, wife?” he asked her, firm thumb moving in tight circles.
“Yes, yes, yes!”
“No one else can make you feel this way, can they, wife?”
“No, no, no!”
“Only I can. Say it, wife. Tell me!”
“Only you can! Only you, Simon!”
She cried out as she careened over the edge, her core squeezing down on him, triggering his own release. He thrust up into her, filling her as they came together within the confines of the carriage.
She rested her head against his shoulder, as the only sounds were their heavy breathing and the shouts of the drivers outside. Simon was already softening inside her, yet his arms stayed tight around her.
“Do not move yet,” he said, pressing a kiss against the side of her throat. “Allow me to enjoy my victory. You came before I did.”
She smiled. “You do know that eventually you must let me win.”
He chuckled. “I am quite happy to compete with you as much as you want. Although I warn you, I always try my hardest no matter what.”
She sighed contentedly, snuggling into him. “And I warn you that I do not like to lose. One of these days, you will let me win.”