Chapter 20 #2
Victoria looked at him, her face softening.
She stretched her arm as if trying to reach him.
He took it as a cue to stand up and approach her.
Why were they sitting so far from each other?
Was he protecting her, or was he protecting himself?
Her palms rested on his coat, pressing against his stomach when he was near enough.
“I am a heroine of my own story, Richard—”
“Of that I have no doubt,” he interrupted, closing his eyes to feel her touch more closely. More potently.
“Ah. Then, you know that I am a sensible one.”
He looked down at her, then. She had been looking at him all along, her gaze intense.
He could think of so many things he should tell her—like that if something happened to her, he’d be left in an empty void.
That he would be reduced to nothing. However, he deemed those words too dangerous. So, he kept quiet.
But he did the next most dangerous thing. He bent down to kiss her lips. Her hand reached for his jaw, returning the kiss.
It had become so natural between them, these kisses. For him, it was a language in itself.
“Please be safe. That is all I ask,” he groaned against her lips.
Her smile lit her face, and her eyes sparkled with quiet joy. He lowered himself, pressing a soft kiss to them, tasting the gentle moisture of her tears, and felt something fragile and precious stir between them.
Not all their moments together were quiet, though. They also had to attend social events as if they had nothing to worry about. The Hereford soiree was their next test. As usual, it was an event of color, sound, and scent.
Victoria remembered how her entrances during the past were met with smirks and upturned noses.
Those reactions could be for anything: her loud ways, her pushy mother, or the way she did not meet the expectations of society as a whole.
When she had her twenty-first birthday without a fiancé in sight, it got worse.
Tonight, people still watched her when she walked by.
This time, though, Richard walked beside her.
Not only that, she knew that he was truly with her.
His hand was always touching her elbow or the small of her back.
She wondered if she would again be banished from society if people thought they were inappropriate in public.
She could not help but smirk at that.
Not everyone had a titled and handsome husband as she did. Of course, they would complain about his touches when their husbands were too cold, too distant, and probably hiding a mistress in the countryside while they gossiped about other people’s lives.
Victoria loved how Richard walked as if he did not have a care in the world for anyone there. Yes, they were surrounded by aristocrats, but he was among the few who had truly mastered wearing a mask of indifference while also knowing where and how to scan the crowd.
“They are staring,” she whispered behind her pretty fan, adorned with purple lace flowers. She only lowered it whenever she smiled at the other guests.
“Oh, let them. We know how they are,” Richard drawled. “There are plenty of reasons to stare at you, duchess. One, they may still be gossiping about what should already be old chitchat. Two, and most importantly, you look beautiful. Devastating.”
She blushed at that. She had to control herself from swatting her husband. There was nothing wrong with flirting with her own husband, but she knew that she must project a blameless facade.
When a waltz began, Richard brought her to the center of the ballroom.
He was making a statement. It was a dance that only the bold were comfortable participating in so far, but the two of them made it easy.
At this point, they knew each other’s bodies and movements well enough.
Victoria no longer had to count her steps.
By following his lead, the two of them danced fluidly together.
After a moment, she began to be more aware of the whispers.
“The duchess looks radiant,” a dowager said boldly, not caring if anyone heard.
“And the duke had never been this attentive. He looks smitten! Perhaps the rumors about the child being his are pure gossip. I heard the child was his cousin’s …”
“Yes. It does look that way. Can you imagine dancing like that with your spouse if you knew of their infidelity?”
Success. People were now widely accepting their story. Unfortunately, the night was not perfect. It was close to becoming one, but as the night started to fade, they encountered Lord Penwike near the grand staircase. The man did not even hide his displeasure.
“Your Graces,” Penwike drawled.
Victoria could feel the oiliness beneath the polite greeting. It made her skin crawl.
“It’s a remarkable evening, isn’t it?” he continued, as the couple watched him warily.
“Another event with the two of you out and about. Does it mean that your little addition does not affect the way you live your life? Then, it looks like everything is just dandy. It is, after all, very generous of the two of you to take care of a child of uncertain origins.”
Victoria felt the heat the dance generated dissipate quickly. Penwike had brought a cold that she could not shake off easily. Everything around her felt suddenly frigid, and Richard had frozen, as well. Then, she felt him step forward.
“Richard,” she warned in a volume only meant for him.
Her hand moving towards his was also meant to be just as stealthy and comforting. “Don’t.”
She wanted to tell him that the marquess before them was nothing more than a small man who was trying to feel big. She believed that he was not worth the effort, even though he could be menacing.
Her husband’s gaze remained fixed on Penwike, but his fists unclenched not long after her touch. Victoria took it as a sign to step forward. This time, she met the marquess’ gaze straight and with her chin tilted.
“Lord Penwike,” she said in a clear voice, not too low and not too loud. “One should concern oneself less with the faults of others and more with one’s own. Good evening to you, my lord.”
She turned, leading her husband away. He let her, and she appreciated that he was not offended by her making a decision for them. It was a small victory that had Penwike sputtering, but she was not that naive. This was not the end.
Their carriage rides were either full of silence or tension. Tonight, they were learning toward tension. Victoria kept quiet, respecting Richard’s need for it. The adrenaline she felt during their second encounter with Penwike had simmered down.
As soon as they entered Hawksford House, she felt more of the difference between their public and private personas. In the comfort of their own home, Richard no longer waited for Mr. Hawthorne to take his coat, simply nodding at the butler.
“Get some rest, Hawthorne. We are fine. The rest of the servants can retire.”
“Thank you, Your Grace.”
The couple went upstairs, their steps in sync with each other. Victoria wondered why she did not have to second-guess her actions with him anymore. Her feelings were a different matter, though.
In her bedroom, the atmosphere became more heightened. Yes, she still felt protected by his presence, but the air and her shallow breathing gave way to a different feeling—something more primal.
Victoria stood, the anticipation growing stronger as she realized Richard was staring at her. He didn’t call for the maid to help her with her gown, or his valet to bring hot water to the tub. It looked like he could not wait to devour her.
“You were magnificent there,” he murmured. He was so close she could feel his warm breath. “You were a warrior. A lioness.”
She giggled at that. She was not used to people giving her compliments.
Even her siblings often called her a hoyden when she was younger, affectionately, of course, but she was never expected to be a warrior like Marianne or a beauty like Elizabeth.
She was not as much of an intellectual as Wilhelmina or an obedient and malleable talent like Daphne.
She was the rebel, and perhaps, a lioness was an appropriate description. It was apt. She liked it.
“I learned from you, but you are a quieter warrior,” she praised back, smiling at him.
Her eyes squeezed shut when she felt him unravel her clothes one string of lace at a time.
Her breath hitched at the agonizingly slow torture.
Anticipation pooled in her lower belly. She was so focused on the sensations he was giving her that she was almost startled when she felt her dress fall to her feet.
Victoria shivered. She was now merely in her chemise, and Richard was tracing her shoulders with his thumb. How could he do that? He was not even touching her in her most sensitive places, but he was setting her skin on fire anyway.
His hands framed her face as if all he was interested in were her wide eyes and open lips, and not the body that was almost completely bare before him.
Hunger was apparent in the way his eyes flared, and she wanted him just as badly.
Her eyes followed his every movement as he stripped off his clothes and threw them to the floor.
He had a magnificent body, one that sculptors would love to shape in any material.
Plaster. Wood. Marble. He would still emerge as a god with hard muscles.
Even though Richard made certain to pleasure her as much as he could, the want kept building instead of waning; it must be because he still kept lovemaking out of reach. He had an iron control. He could kiss her all over with a heavy erection, but still not take her.
Each time, his passion was evident. Tonight, his tongue tangled with hers, tasting of sweet sherry instead of brandy.
She almost giggled against his mouth, at the thought that he was thinking of doing this even as he chose his drink.
He rested her on the chaise lounge instead of the bed, spreading her thighs to make room for his body.
Victoria reached for the hem of her chemise in an attempt to strip her clothes, but he stopped her gently with his hand. She was, to her horror, very much disappointed, and she could not even fix her face to look less so.
“I—I need your chemise on. I don’t know how else I can control myself,” he confessed.
His words made her blush. They also made her feel relieved that she was not alone in this.
He wanted her too, so badly, but he had strong principles he abided by.
She wanted to tell him that she didn’t care about the rules of decorum anymore, and that she’d always find ways to get what she wanted, and at that moment, she wanted him.
“All right,” she murmured, almost falling out of the moment.
However, his weight on her gave her a delicious pressure. He knew just what to do, his hands everywhere—the swell of her breasts and hips. He also knew how to tease, his hands staying away from the pulsing part between her legs.
“Please,” she begged, even though she didn’t know what she wanted him to do, when he couldn’t do what she craved the most.
He pulled down her chemise, enough to free one breast for his mouth. He pulled her nipple in and sucked. Why did he have to do this, make her burn in heat, but not consummate their marriage?
She rocked her hips against his erection, their bodies separated by her chemise. He rocked back, rubbing himself against her clit, letting her see stars beneath her eyelids as his tongue, teeth, and hard length gave her the invasion she needed—or at least close to what she needed.
He let her nipple go with a pop and pulled back to look at her with a blend of restraint and reverence that made her want to cry. He rested his forehead against hers as they both panted.
“Not yet,” he grunted out, “but soon. I want you to be certain when it does happen. Your mind, heart, and body should be ready.”
Victoria wanted to scream that she was ready for anything now, but she wasn’t certain what a new baby would be like. She was not like her older siblings, who dreamed of children even when they were young. Instead, she wanted adventures. The struggles with Melody were still fresh in her mind.
But she did want a baby with Richard, that she was clear about now.
“I understand,” she whispered.
Then, he resumed assaulting her senses, one hand slipping under her chemise to caress her wet heat. He slipped a finger into her, moving in the familiar rhythm meant to give her release. His hips moved at the same rhythm, and their hearts pounded as one.
“I can hear you here,” he said, his breath warm over her breast, right before he sucked her nipple hard over and over, in sync with his probing fingers. He did so until she could no longer keep the pressure within her.
She exploded into a jarring blast of pleasure, crying out loudly. To her surprise and glee, he cried not long after, his warm seed spilling over her chemise.