23. Chapter 23
twenty-three
N ow David was the one who’d said too much. He turned his attention to the tureen of soup on the cart and broke the thick crust of cheese on the top, releasing a puff of steam that had been trapped beneath. Jenny hadn’t said a word, but he could feel her watching him as he worked.
When he’d mixed the rich broth with the onions and a little of the cheese, he brought a spoonful to her mouth. She accepted it and waited for him to eat some of the soup before she ventured, “How were you abandoned? Do you mean your parents?”
He ignored her, completely not ready to talk about this, and dipped a little bread in the broth to feed her, but she intercepted him by taking hold of his hand.
Brown broth dripped down onto her napkin, but she didn’t let him go or release his stare.
There was a challenge in her eyes. She’d told him the truth, and now it was his turn.
But he’d never talked about this before and he couldn’t understand where the words had come from. He hadn’t been abandoned. Not really. He’d always had Alfred.
“I suppose so,” he answered honestly.
“When did they die?” she asked. Then she brought the bread to her mouth and her lips grazed his fingers as she took it from him, stoking the embers of his need for her and loosening his resistance .
“A train accident. A light engine was running on the wrong line and ran head-on into the train carrying my parents. Several of the passenger train cars derailed. Seven people were killed and more were injured.”
“My God,” she said, covering her mouth. “How terrible! How old were you?”
“Three years old. I don’t have memories of them, not real ones. Sometimes I think I do, but then I don’t know if I’m only making them up because of stories I’ve been told.”
“How awful to lose them so young.”
He nodded. “They were kind, by all accounts.”
“Were they?” she prodded.
“Loving, even, which is nearly unheard of among my friends and their parents. They wanted many children but after Alfred, my mother had a series of miscarriages. My birth was a surprise to them.”
“How do you know that?” Her head tilted in curiosity, and he fed her another piece of bread. Being able to talk to her like this wasn’t nearly as bad as he’d feared.
“Alfred. Alfred was…I don’t know, fifteen or sixteen years old when I was born.
He overheard some of their conversations or arguments as it were.
He told me that my father had absolutely forbidden another pregnancy, but my mother wouldn’t hear of it.
It was a bit of a sore subject between them.
Apparently, Father was upset when she conceived, and they kept expecting her to miscarry again so they never talked about me until she gave birth. But then they were overjoyed.”
Why were his eyes burning? None of this was new to him. He’d known all this for years.
“David.” Her hand rested on his thigh.
The way she looked at him made his throat ache.
He took hold of the tureen again so he wouldn’t have to look at her, but she took the soup from him and set it back on the cart.
Then, either unaware or not caring that the blanket dropped to her lap, she leaned forward and embraced him. “I’m so sorry you lost them.”
He expected her to let go quickly, but she didn’t.
She held him, relaxing into him, until he felt his arms lower around her and pull her closer.
She melted against him and he tightened his hold as if he couldn’t get close enough, until he was clinging to her like he had when he’d been fucking her.
Only this time, he wasn’t desperate to have her, but to clutch on to the succor she promised him.
Holding her was a balm to some wound he carried deep inside.
He closed his eyes and buried his face in her hair and she murmured soothing sounds against his ear that he assumed were words but he couldn’t make them out. The burning behind his eyelids only increased, as did the pain in his throat.
When she finally pulled back, his eyes were damp and he was forced to blink several times. He mumbled an apology as he tried to compose himself.
She smiled and took his hand. “There’s nothing to apologize for.” He watched her fingertips lightly trace over his skin as if holding his hand was the easiest and most natural thing in the world.
“There is. I shouldn’t…I didn’t mean to…It’s only that I’ve never spoken to anyone about them.”
She sobered. “David, you are free to disagree with me if this isn’t true, but it occurs to me that outside of your brother, you have no true friends.”
“Not true. Dev and Edward—”
She shook her head. “Perhaps I used a poor choice of words. It’s not that you don’t have friends, but that maybe you don’t share yourself with them. ”
She was right. Friends had always been for fun and debauchery, not for talking. Not like this. But he liked her like this with no shields between them.
“Perhaps you can be my friend,” he said.
Her smile returned. “Yes, I think we can be friends.”
His gaze dropped to her bare breasts with their pointed nipples that were beyond tempting. “Friends who sometimes f—”
She yanked the blanket up to her neck. “You’re a cad, David.”
He swallowed. “I was going to say fornicate.”
She glared at him but it lacked bite. “I think we should honor our original deal and keep things…platonic from here on out.”
God, no. He couldn’t imagine a life where he didn’t fuck her ever. Instead of saying that, he schooled his horrified expression into one that was more appropriate. “This was a one-time abeyance?”
She shrugged a bare shoulder and he couldn’t help but admire the silk of her skin and remember how she tasted right where her neck met her shoulder. “It was kind of you to sign the contract and bring it to me. It was only fair.”
“I would have signed the contract without this.”
“You do something for me; I do something for you.”
Was that why she’d been so eager? Did she not enjoy the things they did together? He knew she did. He’d made her scream his name. Sex had been transactional the first night, but he didn’t want it to be that way between them anymore.
“Is that the only reason you did this?”
She raised a skeptical brow. “Is that not why you invited me to dinner?”
“I didn’t expect compensation, Jenny. I didn’t ask you here because I felt you had to pay me back.”
“Oh,” she said, genuinely bemused. “I thought… ”
“I want you because I’ve always wanted you. The night back at Heathercote only confirmed how good it can be with us. You felt that, too?”
She nodded. “Of course I did.”
Relief lightened his shoulders and loosened his tongue. “Jenny…it was the best sex I’ve ever had.”
“Stop.” She rolled her eyes.
“It’s true,” he said. He was beginning to suspect that his very deep and very real feelings for her had something to do with that. “I believe that we have found something that is very—”
“David.” He realized he’d been looking at the blanket and not at her because he had trouble admitting to feelings when he had to stare into her fathomless eyes. “Is there any dessert on that cart?”
He glanced at it and then back to her, disoriented by the change in conversation. “A tart, I believe.”
“Good. Let’s share that, shall we?” Her gaze was on the food and very much not on him, a state he couldn’t help but believe was very deliberate.
He wasn’t the only one with an aversion to sharing emotions.
He was beginning to suspect that he wasn’t the main obstacle in their marriage.
His wife seemed unprepared for sharing her own.
He hadn’t considered that. He’d only just begun to think that if he could become a man she could admire and appreciate, then she would welcome him into her life.
Now he had a suspicion things wouldn’t be that easy.
Realizing he’d been quiet too long, he said, “Of course. Let’s share.”
He took the raspberry tart from under the napkin that had shielded it and offered her the first bite.
They spent the next few minutes eating it and discussing the opera as if the preceding conversation had never happened.
On the one hand he was grateful, he’d been too exposed and vulnerable, but on the other hand, he felt shut off from her.
When he’d originally thought his obsession with her was only for sex, he’d been so wrong.
He wanted all of her. Every part of her.
He’d been so willing to agree to anything she wanted because he loved her.
He suspected he’d loved her since the first night he’d met her.
The tart finished, he found an extra robe in his armoire and wrapped her in it so that she could visit the bathing chamber.
While she was gone, he kept the wine but wheeled the cart into the corridor for the servants to collect later.
He didn’t bother dressing and kept his own robe on.
Instead, he paced as he cultivated the argument he was about to make.
When she returned a few minutes later, her expression was wary as she eyed her discarded clothing.
“Stay here tonight,” he said before she could even hint at going back to the boarding house.
“I can’t.”
“You can,” he began. “Your landlady won’t appreciate you returning at this late hour. There’s no need for you to have to explain that you were with your husband. You’ll be more comfortable here anyway.”
She considered it, glancing behind her to the room he’d mentioned would be hers.
“I’m afraid your bed isn’t quite ready.” He added the second part of his argument. “It’s likely coated in a layer of dust.”
“Ah, now I see what you’re about.” The spell was broken and she crossed to her clothing.
“You simply want me to stay and share your bed again. Well, I can’t.
I have a long day tomorrow and I can’t be up late.
Besides”—she glanced at the obvious bulge beneath his robe—“I do think it would be best for us not to engage in that particular activity again. ”
“That’s not what I meant.” Christ in heaven, what was he doing? That had been exactly what he meant. “Stay here, in my bed. I won’t touch you. You’re tired, I’m tired, we’ll sleep.”
She laughed. “You, Lord David, are not capable of sleeping next to a woman without having sex with her.”
He frowned. “I am.” He’d never done it before, but that didn’t mean he was incapable of it.
“I wouldn’t want you to injure yourself.” She picked her underthings out of the pile.
Sweat broke out on his forehead and he raked a hand down the back of his neck. He felt that if she left now, he might never get her back. “Jenny, please .”
The please got her. She dared to look at him, her smile gone.
“Don’t go. I’ll sleep with trousers on if it pleases you.
I merely…I want you here. I want to know you are safe and cared for and…
” This wasn’t enough to win her over, he could see the distrust in her eyes.
“I want to hold you,” he argued. “But not for sex. I liked it…earlier when you held me.” He’d thought they were clever words to win her over.
It was only when he spoke them that he knew they were true.
That did it. She hesitated and her chemise slipped through her fingers to land back on the pile. “Has no one ever hugged you?”
He shook his head. “Only Fanny that morning in Heathercote.”
She crossed to him and put her arms around him. He closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around her waist, imagining he could feel her heart beating. “You poor thing,” she whispered.
He was surprised to realize that he felt very poor indeed. Without her, that is.
“Stay,” he whispered. “No sex. I simply want you to stay with me.” Forever.
She pulled back to look up at him, skepticism still reflected on her face. He was certain she would refuse him, but she nodded.
“For tonight,” she agreed.