Chapter 21
CHAPTER 21
J asper’s arms tightened around her, and Maria smiled into his shoulder, her body replete.
“Are you well?” she asked softly, stroking the hard muscles of his back.
He pressed a kiss beneath her ear, and then helped her to her feet. “Of course.”
His blue-and-brown gaze bore into her before slipping down toward the ropey lines of his seed that were slowly sliding down her skin. With a muttered apology and a flare of heat in his gaze, Jasper strode to the washbasin across the room to dip and wring out a wash cloth.
Maria marvelled at the way his naked body moved, his muscles and tendons bunching and stretching beneath his skin, his now-flaccid member and testicles swaying and bouncing, and delectable dimples forming in each cheek of his rear end. Those dimples reminded her markedly of the ones on his face. He was utterly distracting, and entirely beautiful.
Returning to her side, he tenderly wiped her clean.
“Thank you,” she murmured, her chest swelling with warmth.
“Of course.” He offered her a half-smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I think we ought to have a discussion.”
Maria’s stomach wobbled. “Ought we?” Will he take this moment to plan his jilting of me?
Jasper nodded solemnly. “Would you care for something to eat? I’m certain that there are more than adequate provisions in the larder.”
“Provisions that Francis has not touched, I hope?” she hedged with a small smile.
He huffed a breath and shook his head. “The food as of this morning was all fresh, and it is now behind lock and key.”
“Mmm.”
Nerves tingled disconcertingly over her limbs as he donned a pair of trousers and she his discarded shirt. Silence filled the space between them. Mere hours ago Maria had likewise desired a discussion with Jasper, but… Mayhap it was his wording or his mien that had her on edge.
Dressed, if slightly mussed, Jasper left.
By the time he returned with a tray laden with foodstuffs, Maria had concluded her ablutions and fixed her hair.
She joined him at the table—upon which they’d just made love—her stomach rumbling at the scent of cheese, cured meat, fruits, and freshly baked bread. She broke a piece off with her fingers and popped it into her mouth with a slice of meat and cheese. The salty, savoury flavours filled a need that she hadn’t even recognized, but they did nothing to ease her nerves.
“Mmm,” she hummed. “This is delicious.”
Jasper nodded, chewing, his hot gaze roving over her to settle on the gaping neck of his shirt.
“I’d like to apologize for not introducing you properly to Thomas,” Maria whispered in a rush. “I confess, I was afraid that you wouldn’t like him.”
Reaching across the table, he clasped one of her hands in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. “You have naught to worry about on that score. Will you tell me about him?” His gaze was warm and imploring.
Maria’s stomach gave another nervous wobble, and she cleared her throat. “We knew that Thomas was different at a young age. He and I were so close, he being only one year my elder. We played in the nursery together and got along famously. He began to make repetitive noises and gestures as a child, and our parents sought help from a doctor. They didn’t know what to do with him, as his movements and twitches would change frequently.” Rubbing a hand against her chest in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure building there, she sighed. “It did not take them long to call him mad and lock him away in Bethlem Royal Hospital.
“Thomas was there for years, and it was as though our parents suddenly had no son. They moved on with their lives and never spoke of him again. I would sneak away to visit him, and I swore that as soon as I was able, I would free him from that awful place.”
Her hands turned to fists on the table and her voice strengthened with conviction. “He does not belong there. In fact, for the past several years, he has been producing costumes for the performers in Covent Garden and the Drury Lane theatre.”
“Commendable, indeed. I look forward to furthering our acquaintance.” Jasper hummed, his two-toned eyes glittering with affection and understanding. “And that is why you became Mr. Duncan Robertson? To provide for Thomas?”
“I… Y-yes.” Maria nodded, unease creeping back into her heart. “I became Duncan in order to garner a position at the newspaper and acquire our apartments.” And becoming him felt so right.
Jasper pursed his lips in thought. “Do you intend to keep your alternate identity, now that we are engaged?”
Maria’s ire rose, even while a fluttering of nerves erupted in her abdomen. She lifted an eyebrow in challenge. “What if I do?”
“Despite the financial struggles instigated by my father’s gambling and perpetuated by his thieving steward, my estate is gradually recovering. In fact, this autumn our crop yields are set to significantly increase the coffers.” Jasper shook his head. “What I mean to say, Maria, is that soon, I will be able to aid Thomas on your behalf—should you wish it.”
She put another piece of cheese in her mouth and chewed, scarcely registering its flavour. They were being honest with each other, and she wanted him to know this essential part of herself. And yet… She was terrified.
“If, however,” Jasper continued in a rush, “you desire independence for yourself or for Thomas, then I would encourage you to continue donning the role of Duncan to support him.”
“What if…” Her fingers began to tingle, and she shook them out at her sides. His shirt slipped from one of her shoulders, and she tugged it back up. “What if I wish to keep Duncan in my life, but it has naught to do with independence, or with Thomas?”
* * *
Jasper’s heart was lodged firmly in his throat. The notion that Maria wore his shirt, carried his scent was… stirring . She watched him expectantly, and he knew that his reply meant a great deal to her. He was, however…confused.
“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” he admitted. “I’ve read your articles in the paper, and I admire your work. If you wish to continue on there, I encourage you to do so?—”
“That’s not what I meant.” She licked her lips and shifted her seat. “Have you ever felt uncomfortable?”
Jasper blinked, thrown by the change in topic. “Yes.”
“Has there been a moment in which you felt so uncomfortable that your very skin felt wrong?”
He raced through scenarios in his mind, recalling being thrown from a horse as a lad and being entirely covered in manure—then retching on himself. He shook away the memory. “I daresay I’ve felt something like that.”
“Well…” Her hopeful—and trepidatious—gaze held his as she wrung her hands. “I feel that often. I always have.”
“That’s dreadful,” Jasper murmured.
“When I donned my first ill-fitting, second-hand suit of men’s clothes and called myself Duncan, I felt… right . And while there are days in which dressing in a gown and wearing fashionable hair is lovely and brings me empowerment and satisfaction, there are likewise days in which being Duncan is liberating.”
It didn’t precisely make sense to his mind, but neither had there been a revelation with Maria that had ever felt out of place to him. He’d been surprised at each discovery, yet in the end, every new thing about her had only increased his admiration and regard. When he’d learned about the women’s position as runners, he’d been worried for their safety, but he’d also been impressed with Maria’s capabilities. And as Duncan working for The Morning Herald … Hell, but he’d found that attractive. And utterly remarkable.
A slow smile pulled at his lips and his heart gave a hard thump . “If you’re informing me that you intend to be Duncan at home with me after we’re wed then, I confess, I mightn’t be able to keep myself from touching you.”
Her brows lifted, and a hopeful smile curved one corner of her lips. “Truly?”
“Truly.”
“If I were to feel more masculine and dress as Duncan for days at a time, you would still find me appealing?”
Heat crept up Jasper’s chest and flared hot in his ears, despite his efforts to suppress it. Maria as Duncan was not just appealing, but mouth-watering. He wanted desperately to drop to his knees for her again and taste her sweet flesh while gripping her arse in those breeches.
“Yes,” he croaked, then cleared his throat. “Most certainly. I’d never before considered trousers alluring, but the feelings you inspire in me when you’re wearing them are undeniable.” Memories flashed through his mind’s eye, and he quirked a grin. “In fact, I was also rather taken with your strength and ability to command a team and engage in combat. You’re remarkable, Maria.”
Her grin broadened as she leaned her elbows on the table. “And if I suggested that you allow me—as Duncan—to take full control of our lovemaking, would you permit me to engage in any act of my choosing?”
Blood rushed directly to his cock, filling it almost painfully to hardness. He coughed, blinking away his sudden dizziness. “I would be receptive to that, yes.”
With a glint in her eyes and one arched eyebrow, Maria reached back to remove pins from her chignon.
“Disrobe,” she demanded.
His prick gave a hard throb and he stood to do as he was told. His pulse thundered, and his stomach erupted with erratic fluttering.
Maria’s gaze was intent, her movements deliberate as she tied her hair back in a queue. Jasper heated everywhere her gaze touched as she watched him slowly slide his trousers off his hips and down his legs.
She approached him in silence. He knew not what she was about to do, but his body was veritably vibrating with the anticipation.
With the tip of one finger, she traced the line of hair that bisected his soft abdomen. His muscles quivered as she rounded his belly button, then delved lower.
The pads of her fingers traced the underside of his prick, and he hissed a breath. Then, with a playful quirk of her lips, she gripped him hard. His hips thrust into her palm of their own accord.
He groaned. “Touch me, Maria.”
“Duncan,” she—he?—corrected, gliding her hand over his prick.
“Duncan,” Jasper repeated. “ God, yes, just like that —” His thoughts trailed off as Mar— Duncan— tightened her grip.
“Mmm,” Duncan hummed. “I am both Maria and Duncan; is that agreeable to you?”
“ Christ , yes.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, bringing their bodies closer, then lowered his forehead to hers. “You are agreeable to me. In every way.”
With kisses to his jaw, his neck, and across his chest, Jasper felt Duncan move lower.
“What are you—?” he began, but choked as Maria— Duncan —drew Jasper’s cock into their mouth. “ Jesus fuck ! What are you?—”
Slick heat enveloped his cock as Duncan slowly took him deeper into their mouth, and Jasper gritted his teeth in an effort to keep from spending immediately. Their tongue gave tentative flicks to the underside of his prick, shooting jolts of pleasure through him.
“How do you— Fuck, yes! ”
The soft glow of firelight wavered over their skin, their hair, and lent a transparency to his shirt that they’d donned. Unable to keep his hands from them a moment longer, Jasper placed his palms to their head.
Their gaze flicked upward to meet his, and he cursed long and low at the sight. Red lips pulled tight around his girth, eyes glazed with arousal.
Fuck …
Duncan pulled off with a damp pop . “You must instruct me. What do I do?”
“What you’re doing is amazing,” Jasper gasped. “But a little suction would— Fuck, yes . Just like that.”
Duncan’s hand traced a path down the inside of Jasper’s thigh then disappeared below the hem of his shirt. The other wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer and going deeper into that luscious mouth with every thrust.
“My God,” Jasper panted. “D-Duncan, are you…? Are you touching yourself?”
They gave a hum that vibrated through Jasper’s cock, and his ballocks drew up tight. As they combined the flicking of their tongue with deep suction, he was overwhelmed.
“I’m close. Fuck , I’m so close.” His hips thrust forward, chasing the pleasure.
Gasping for control, Jasper realized he should pull away. This was their first time, he couldn’t…
“Oh fuck, Jasper, don’t stop!” Duncan pulled back to beg.
He blinked. Shock and arousal rippled through his chest. “Pardon?” Surely they didn’t mean to continue. There were other ways…
With a heavy-lidded smirk, Duncan placed their hands over Jasper’s. The dampness from their arousal coated their fingers and threw Jasper’s pulse out of rhythm.
“Find release with my mouth,” they enunciated, “and spend down my throat.”
His prick throbbed again, and Jasper released Duncan to give its base a hard pinch.
He gently lifted their hand and sucked their wet fingers into his mouth. “It would be my pleasure,” he growled.
Tightening his grip on their head, he guided them forward, and they opened eagerly, once more reaching down to pleasure themselves.
Beginning slow, Jasper drew his hips back and thrust, earning a surprised gasp and a moan from Duncan. Again and again he moved, gradually increasing his speed, until their moans and muffled cries of pleasure echoed through the room.
Their gaze held his as they sucked, and lifted a hand to cup his tight ballocks.
“Oh fuck,” Jasper gasped, thrusting faster. “ Oh fuck !”
With another long moan, Duncan shuttered, their eyes drawing closed as they came.
“ Fuck !”
Jasper stilled, spilling ropes of his seed down their throat.
Somewhere deep in the house, a clock chimed six, signalling the end of their time.
* * *
A frown rode Jasper’s brow during his departure from the magistrate’s office and his ride home. He fisted his hands in his lap, his back lightly bouncing against the squabs of his equipage as they rumbled over the cobblestoned streets of London.
“These occurrences are naught but hired ruffians paid to carry out your cousin’s demands,” the magistrate—Ludlow Vaughn—had grumbled. “We followed his trail to the docks, where we were advised that he boarded a frigate bound for the Americas.”
“I assure you,” Jasper had pleaded, “I saw him in town not?—”
“I’ve told you before, Your Grace, that it is merely a hired ruffian who shares a resemblance to Mr. Sinclair,” the magistrate had rebutted. “We’ve closed out the case on your cousin, but the dockworkers will keep an eye out for a man matching his description. And, of course, we’ll do our best to capture those hired men.”
“Sir, I implore you to?—”
“Good day, Your Grace.”
With a growl, Jasper punched the side of his carriage.
He sighed. After meeting with the magistrate his positive feelings of that morning had dissipated. No matter how satisfying the evening had been.
Despite not having apprehended his cousin the previous night—and the decided lack of sleep—he’d awoken feeling significantly lighter than he’d thought possible. That, of course, was due to Maria—Duncan.
He hadn’t, however, continued his discussion with Maria to disabuse her of the notion of his interest in a false engagement. He needed to tell her how he felt.
His emotions continued to war within him, but irritation took the fore once more. Bloody Vaughn and his curst optimism.
The carriage rolled to a stop in front of his town house. He leapt down before the step could be lowered and jogged up the front steps.
He nodded to the footman who had just taken his morning post into the foyer. “Good morning. Would you be so good as to have a half bath brought to my chambers, please?”
“At once, Your Grace.” He bowed deeply and hurried from the foyer.
Jasper trotted up the stairs and strode to his chambers. He’d only wiped himself off after making love to Maria earlier, and he needed to get in a proper cleaning before going back to sleep.
A swift grin stole over his lips as memories flashed through his mind.
He reached his bedchamber, but froze in the act of shucking his coat, his gaze riveted on the knife protruding from his opened door.
“ Harris !” he bellowed, hoping that the man was still in residence.
His harshly uttered curse echoed in the room as he searched the room for a pair of gloves. His heart thundered in his chest. Francis had been here! But how? They had searched every room and locked every entrance!
At last he found two used neckcloths. He freed and unfolded the letter.
Come not b E tween the dragon and his wrath…
“Sodding hell,” Jasper muttered, his stomach all but entirely in knots. “ Harris !”
Christ, but his skin was slick with icy perspiration, and yet his home felt too warm.
* * *
A pleasurable hum tingled just beneath the surface of Maria’s skin as she donned her cloak, grabbed a newspaper, and dashed out of doors.
She’d scarcely gotten any sleep for replaying her night with Jasper through her mind; the warm flicker of firelight that wavered over Jasper’s skin, the way he looked as she gave him pleasure… A smile spread across her lips. He’d been markedly encouraging of her feelings, almost entirely liberating her from any concern she had regarding their engagement.
Does he wish for a fashionable marriage?
A pang shot through her belly.
Her friends frequently teased her about having amorous feelings toward Jasper, but while there had always been some spark of truth to their words, she’d never truly believed them.
Love .
Her heart skipped, and she placed a hand over her chest.
Blimey .
A quavering huff of breath escaped her, which betrayed her nerves. It was time to stop thinking about Jasper.
“To the apartments, Jonah,” Maria whispered to her favoured coachman as she entered her familial carriage.
“Right away, Miss Roberts.”
She shut the door quickly and leaned back, her stomach buzzing with nerves as the carriage jolted into motion.
Focus, Maria . You’re about to defy Grace’s orders .
She peered out the window into the light of morning. The sky was clear of clouds; only the faint haze of London obscured the sun.
It was early enough that Maria could be certain that her family remained abed, but after a night of no sleep, she was exhausted. It was important, however, that she retrieve her suits of clothes, her manuscripts, and the bank notes that she had hidden around the space. Without her things, she would she not be able to work. Worse yet, she would no longer be able to provide for Thomas, and that simply was not an option—no matter Jasper’s pretty assertions.
She toyed with the ties of her bonnet and tugged at the sleeves of her pelisse, her stomach fluttering riotously.
With a sigh, she unfolded the newspaper and scanned the columns, coming to a stop when she sighted news of Lady Cartwright’s death.
“Mmm. The baron won’t like this,” Maria muttered as she began reading.
Baroness Sarah Bantry, Lady Cartwright, was found poisoned on the property of none other than a certain duke. A lover’s quarrel? …
Lover’s quarrel, indeed.
The carriage rumbled over the cobblestoned streets of London, steadily getting closer to Cheapside. Ordinarily, when she journeyed to her apartments there were so few people about, that the journey was swift. That morning, however, the carriage slowed far before the turn into the close.
“ Fire ,” Jonah called from his driver’s perch.
Maria scrambled to the opposite window and looked at the chaos surrounding them. Men and women worked together to pump water into buckets and toss it onto the burning building. Her building.
Her heart jumped to her throat and her stomach dipped ominously. No, no, no!
“ Stop !” she hollered to the coachman, scrambling for the door’s latch.
The door swung open, admitting a cacophony of shouts from people attempting to douse the fire. Her half-boots hit the uneven cobbles and she ran to join them.
“ Return home !” she called to Jonah over her shoulder.
She caught a flash of the worry in the man’s gaze, but he doffed his hat and did as he was told.
She wheezed, and a cough caught her by surprise. She blinked back the sting to her eyes. The air was thick with smoke, and each choking breath made her heart ache further.
“Water!” a man shouted before handing a bucket off to another man.
Maria recognized them as residents— neighbours —and her stomach twisted painfully.
Seeing an opening in the line of hands, she hurried forward to pass a bucket of water.
The intensity of the blaze heated her through her clothes, causing perspiration to bead at her hairline and between her breasts. Her heart beat a tattoo against her ribs, but she couldn’t think past her efforts with the water. Mustn’t think of what she might have lost. There was no way for her to ascertain the damage to her apartments from the street, while the light of the fire still flickered angrily in the windows. She wouldn’t yet give up hope that her home would survive.
As time passed, Maria’s arms began to weaken and her back began to ache, but she continued to pass the buckets. Coughs racked her frame, and soot covered her from head to foot.
Eventually the crowd dispersed, and the fire was reduced to smouldering embers. Her neighbours entered the building, everyone hoping to recover items, while the cobbler stood, forlorn, at the smoking entrance of his shop.
Midday sun glinted off broken shards of glass, catching Maria’s eye as she passed through the crooked front entry and into the small foyer. The overwhelming stench of smoke and wet wood permeated the air. Her stomach lurched and her eyes stung with tears as she picked up her filthy skirts and ran up the creaky staircase toward her apartments.
A sharp gasp stung her oesophagus, and her cough turned into a sob.
The door hung askew, and inside…
Another sob caught in her throat, the weight on her chest nigh-suffocating. The walls were now fire-blackened brick, her furniture naught but piles of ash and jagged bits of metal. There was nothing left. Neither a pen, a pound note, nor a stitch of fabric. Every piece of her independence had been instantaneously reduced to nothing.
The floor creaked behind her and, despite her desire to continue her fruitless search for something , she knew she ought to vacate before the floor collapsed.
She was taking one last glance around her charred bedchamber when a blinding pain crashed through her temple and the room went dark.