Chapter Twenty-One
Jennie had invited the daughters of one of her friends to stay, and the four girls were now deep in discussion over some fashion drawings. It was never too early, Jennie said, to learn about the importance of appearance.
Harriet and Prudence looked up at Grace with smiles and eagerly shared their ideas on the new dresses they would need—Ormsby being so stingy.
Grace wanted to remind them that money was in short supply but didn’t have the heart to ruin their excitement.
There had not been much to look forward to recently.
Jennie took her arm in hers. “Let us get you ready for Vauxhall,” she said, “and then you can show the girls.”
There was another new dress laid out on the bed, and this one was plum colored with white lace on the hem and sleeves. The bodice was quite low, but Grace thought she looked rather fine, and although her hair was drawn back in a chignon, curls danced about her face and softened the severe style.
“Isn’t Vauxhall rather bawdy?” she asked.
“Perhaps,” Jennie said with a shrug. “But it is a masked ball so no one will know you. Now where is my mask . . .?”
A masked ball? That was the first Grace had heard of that. She had never been to a masked anything.
Jennie reappeared with the item in question, and they tied the ribbons behind Grace’s head. The red velvet mask only covered her face from the nose upward, but it was strange how much of a stranger she suddenly looked.
“I might be anybody,” she said. The idea that she could walk amongst others and be unrecognized was very appealing. She wished she had thought to wear a mask before.
When she came downstairs to show Prudence and Harriet, they jumped up with exclamations of delight.
“Grace, you are beautiful!” was one of the cries, as if they had never imagined she could look so fine.
Grace decided it was good for them to see a woman dressed well instead of in shabby hand-me-downs.
That life wasn’t always about scrimping and saving, but sometimes it was about having fun.
“You must enjoy every moment of it!” Prudence informed her as if she were completely grown up.
“Yes, and you must tell us all about it,” Harriet added.
She promised to do so, hugged them goodbye, and then Rory was leading her to the coach, and the Mayfair house faded into the distance.
“Jennie will make sure they do not sit up and wait for you,” Rory’s voice came from the dim corner opposite her.
“Oh.” She wasn’t sure what to say to that, other than that her husband had read her mind.
“This night is for the two of us,” he added, making sure she understood.
“Oh.”
“I’ve missed you,” he went on, sounding slightly awkward. “I understand why you have been busy. I’m not saying I am sulking because my wife does not pay me enough attention, but I didn’t realize until now how much I have grown to look forward to your company, Grace.”
It was flattering, and she smiled at him warmly. “It has been a difficult time for us all,” she said. “I am sure my sisters will begin to settle soon. When we have somewhere of our own to live and—”
He cut her short. “Here we are,” he said, as the coach drew to a halt.
Vauxhall Gardens were known as a place of pleasure, with pavilions set up for viewing the various entertainments, and the sprawling gardens with their narrow walkways and secret arbors.
Tonight, the masked ball was well attended.
Rory and Grace wandered about, commenting on the other guests and the music.
“Do you recognize anyone?” she asked him.
“No, but that is a good thing,” he said, with a grin. Rory was wearing a black mask also covering half of his face, but she thought the color of his hair made it obvious who he was. To her, anyway.
They danced several dances, ignoring the other couples, just enjoying being together.
Grace felt her tension begin to ease. Rory was right—she had needed this.
She had needed him. His arms holding her close, the whisper of his breath against her temple, and the rumble of his laugh in her ear when they saw something that amused them.
Could it always be like this? How wonderful it would be to know they shared their need for each other. Their desire. Their love.
Because she did love him. There was no point in denying it.
She wanted to stay with him for the rest of their lives and grow old with him.
She wanted it so much her heart ached. But she did not know what Rory wanted.
Sometimes it seemed he wanted the same, and at other times .
. . He was not an easy man to understand.
There was supper in one of the pavilions, and they ate while watching the comings and goings of the crowd. At one point Rory was sure he saw Lord Kilsyth, but if it was his friend, he did not wave to them.
“But what would he be doing here?” Grace asked, sipping her champagne.
“I don’t know,” Rory said. “He misses his wife.”
They shared a puzzled look. “Do you think he is looking for a replacement?” Grace asked. “He seems lonely. He must be.”
“I’m no’ sure one can find a replacement for the love of one’s life.”
He sounded solemn and he was looking at her through the mask as if he wanted to say more.
Grace’s heart gave a little jump and she waited, but then there was a shout from the crowd and they turned to look at a drunken man weaving through the dancers.
Grace thought it looked like Bolton despite his mask, but she didn’t say anything.
She did not want to drag up those memories.
“We should walk in the gardens,” Rory said, when they rose from their meal.
“Should we?” Grace looked uncertainly down one of the narrow paths. Although there were lanterns in the trees to show the way, it was still quite dark. “We might be robbed.”
Rory laughed. “They can try.”
He held her close as they made their way amongst the trees and shrubs, breathing in the scent of flowers, and the noise from the pavilions faded. Grace suspected there were other couples hidden away in some of the corners.
“I have missed you,” he said softly, and tipping her chin up, took her mouth in a gentle kiss. “I think I will burst if I canna have you, Grace.”
His kiss had started that tingle in her belly, and an ache between her thighs. She wanted him. “I missed you too,” she admitted breathlessly.
“There is a place here.” He nodded toward an arbor to one side. Then, quickly, “I will understand if you find this spot not to your taste.”
Did she? Grace was already responding to his kiss, and the way he was stroking her arm, and the very closeness of his strong, hard body.
“I think we can manage,” she said, leaning in to nuzzle his jaw.
He lifted his head with a groan and she licked down his throat, and kissed the warm skin above his neckcloth.
“We can stand up,” he said, his voice gravelly. “Have you ever stood up during the act, wife?”
Grace shook her head. “But I am happy to try.” She thought that pleased him.
They entered the arbor, which was really just a glorified arch covered in sweet smelling vines, but at least it was hidden from any passersby on the path.
Rory ran his hands over her back and shoulders, and then bent his head to kiss the flesh above her bodice.
Grace could feel her breasts swell, her nipples tightening, and she wanted his mouth.
As if he had thought the same thing, he unhooked the back of her gown so that he had access, and began to lick and suck her breasts.
“Rory,” she gasped. “Oh, I want you. Please.”
He chuckled, and suddenly he was kneeling at her feet, bundling up her skirts, his hands running up her stockings to her bare thighs, and his hot breath tickled the apex between them. She was so hot. With lust and need, for him. All for him.
His mouth closed on her, his tongue pressing inside her channel, and she held on to his head and whimpered. He was going to bring her to her peak and as much as she wanted that, she wanted him more.
“Stop,” she gasped. “I need you inside me. I want to come with you inside me.”
He was on his feet before she had finished speaking, and then he was lifting her. She wrapped her legs about him, her arms curling around his neck, and with barely a fumble, she felt his hard length breach her. He thrust deeply, filling her.
The pleasure was immediate. She tried to stifle her cry on his shoulder while he groaned. Another thrust and then one more and it was over.
When she had caught her breath, Grace slid down his body, back to the ground. He held her when she staggered a little.
“I feel I should apologize,” he said, his voice strangely hesitant for such a confident man. “That was verra quick.”
Grace leaned against him and smiled. “It was perfect,” she said. “I was in need and so were you. We should not leave it so long next time, husband.”
He looked down at her, his face in shadow, and then he sighed and held her close as if he simply wanted to feel her against him. There was nothing carnal in his embrace, only affection and perhaps . . . love?
Grace wanted to believe so. She wanted to tell him that she loved him but the disappointments of her past kept her silent. What if he did not want to hear her confession? What if it made things difficult between them? What if . . . what if . . .
So she held him back and they stood there for a long time in the quiet garden, until it was time to leave.