Chapter 17
CHAPTER 17
A lice trailed a step behind the two as they meandered through the park near Gunther’s Sweet Shop. Ices in hand, she kept an eye on the two as they spoke, the conversation meandering around everything but Rutledge.
“I’ve never been to a fair,” Penelope said. “Mother used to say there were unscrupulous people there, preying on the innocent.”
“Maybe the ones who fall for the gypsy women’s fortune-telling ruse,” Benedict replied. “Otherwise, it is really enjoyable. There is one coming next week or so. Would you like to come with me?
Behind them, Alice frowned, did he mean the two of them… or only Penelope? As they walked, she noted people looking at them askance, as if questioning who Benedict was courting, her or Penelope.
“Alice, should we ask Aunt about that or not,” Penelope looked over to her.
“I don’t think we need to,” Alice replied. “We are adults, after all.”
“This tangerine ice is delicious,” Penelope mentioned, looking into her cup. “I never thought such a cold thing could be sweet, tart, and refreshing at the same time.”
Looking at her cherry-flavored ice, Alice stifled a grimace; she suddenly wanted to be anywhere else than here; she sorely wanted to be with Edward. However, this was a very traumatic day for Penelope, the least she could do was to see it through before running off.
“Alice?”
Her head snapped up; again, she had the concerning feeling that her sister—and possibly Benedict—had been calling her name multiple times.
Abashed, she gave them a small smile. “I’m sorry. What was that?”
“His lordship offered to refill our ices,” Penelope clarified, looking worried. “Are you all right?”
“You do seem worried,” Benedict said.
“I—I’m concerned about what Aunt will say when they see that broken end table,” Alice partially lied. “I am sorry for ruining our outing with such humdrummery, but you know me, always the practical thinker.”
“I’ll take care of that,” Benedict told her firmly. “And if you need, I will explain about Rutledge too. It might be easier coming from me.”
You really are your brother’s kin.
“Thank you, my lord,” Penelope replied, blushing. “You are too kind.”
He covered her hand with his and the look of tender affection crossing his face while he looked at Penelope only made Alice yearn to see Edward that much more. She knew it was time to speak with Benedict—but perhaps not this day.
When they returned to the townhome, moments before her aunt and cousin came in, Benedict sat his cup of coffee aside and said, “Mister Thorpe, may I have a word?”
Uncle Richard’s brows flew to his hairline and her aunt gasped audibly enough that Alice knew she expected more than the man had to tell her.
“O-of course, my lord,” Uncle Richard nodded quickly. “In my study, please.”
After the two left the room, Alice went to her aunt who was suddenly busy fanning herself as if she would faint at any moment.
“It is not what you think, Aunt,” she said. “It is not a marriage proposal.”
“It’s not ?” Her aunt squawked.
“Of course it’s not,” Eliza sniffed scornfully.
Ignoring her cousin, Alice explained, “There was an incident earlier with Lord Rutledge, and I am sorry to say, he will not be courting Penelope anymore.”
Her aunt’s face fell, “What? Why?”
“Because he was drunk and disrespectful,” Penelope began, “and moreover, he does not give a whit about me or care about anything except himself.”
“The man is a Viscount!” Eliza blurted. “What is there not to like?”
Alice slid a look to her and knew the two words that would deflate Eliza like a popped balloon. “He’s poor.”
“Oh,” Eliza blinked, then shrugged. “Well, that makes sense.”
“Then—” her aunt twisted in her chair to look over to the direction her husband had taken Benedict, “what does his lordship want to talk to Richard about?”
Succinctly, Alice told her about the fight between the two men and how it ended with the broken end-table. “That’s what they are talking about.”
Deflated, her aunt sighed, “Needless to say, I’d wished for something else coming from him.”
Exhausted, Alice excused herself. “I need to lie down; I have a headache.”
“I’ll see the lord out then,” her aunt nodded. “Have a rest, dear.”
Shoulders sagging, Alice left for her room and upon arriving, closed the door behind her and changed into a nightgown and a robe, before sinking into her bed. Turning sideways, she pressed her face into the pillow and tried to gather herself.
I’ve failed. I have failed Penelope. She needed me and I failed.
Objectively, she knew no blame should be resting on her shoulders—Rutledge had sunk his own ship—but the feeling lingered anyhow.
Her chest burned with a tangle of emotions she could not unravel, and the more she mulled over them, the tighter they grew. At one time, she slipped off to sleep, but it was not an easy one. She tossed and turned until sometime before midnight, she could not take it anymore.
Throwing on a dress and a cloak, with coins in hand, she slipped out of the house, and because the townhouse was so close to the square, she hailed a hackney to the Duke’s address. As much as she hated deceiving her family and knew she was risking her life and reputation, she had no choice.
Thunder rolled ominously ahead but she had come too far to turn back then. She needed to see Edward. Thunder rumbled once more. It was closer now; the storm was not far off. As the hackney rolled up the long drive, she observed the privacy afforded by the towering trees and hedges.
They rode through an archway into a wide yard, and the rain began in earnest, sweeping across the forecourt in sheets. Lightning lit up the sky in bright flashes, causing the ponies to squeal and stamp their hooves. She paid the driver quickly as the rain came down and icy needles peppered her skin.
She pulled up her hood in an effort to protect herself from it, but it soaked her to her skin anyhow. Thunder boomed directly overhead; ducking her head against the heavy squall that plastered her clothes to her body, she hastened up the stone steps, slippery with rain, leading up to the manor’s entrance.
Banging on the door, she prayed a footman would open quickly so she could get out of the rain, and on the third bang, the door opened and the butler Ramsay stood there in a robe and trousers. “Miss Alice?”
“I—I need to see E-Edward,” she shivered.
He pulled her in, “Good gracious, Miss, what possessed you to come in this downpour at—” he craned his head over to the grandfather clock in the corner as he ushered her up the stairs “—half past midnight.”
“I—I could not wait,” she stammered. “I have to see him.”
Instead of the study where she expected him to lead her to, Ramsay led her to a grand door that looked like it led to a full suite of rooms. He wrapped on the door quickly and before it was pulled in, she heard a small canine whine.
“Heel, Atticus,” Edward’s muffled voice came a second before the door was pulled in. His gaze ran over her instantly, “ Alice ? What the devil are you doing here?”
“I need—” She sucked in a breath. “I need to speak with you. I—I cannot…”
He reached for her while looking to Ramsay, “See that we are not disturbed. Unless the manor is on fire, we are to be left alone.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” the butler bowed.
With the scrape of the door closing behind her, Edward touched her cheek and her cloak, which he swiftly heaved off her and dropped to the floor with a wet plop. “You are soaked to the bone, sweetheart. What is it? Why are you here?”
Tears blurred her vision then, and she squeezed her eyes shut. She had not wept in front of her captor until now, for she had not wanted him to see her grief, her despair. Yet what did it matter? All hope had gone.
“Alice?” He asked this time more firmly. “Tell me why you are here.”
Hot tears ran down her face, and her body trembled from the effort it took to contain her sobs. She wrapped her arms about herself to keep a leash on her despair, but it was like trying to hold back a bursting tide, impossible.
Wrapping his arms around her, he pressed her face into the crook of his neck. “Why are you crying, Alice?”
“He—he couldn’t deliver,” she sobbed. With stuttering words, she told him about the incident between Rutledge and Benedict, and the fear in her heart. “She’s with child, Edward. Without him marrying her… she’ll be a fallen woman. She’ll never show her face in town without the scandal following her.”
How quickly the tears flowed. Wiping her face with the back of her hand, Alice cursed her frail nerves. The past few hours seemed to see her lurch from one emotional episode to another.
“Hush, Alice, you are overwrought,” he murmured as she clung to him and her body convulsed.
“I—I can’t,” she whispered. “I can’t keep going on like this. I’m tired, Edward. I am so tired of doing everything. I am so tired of making sure everyone is fine while I keep pushing my needs away. I need—I need help.”
Her hoarse words and the fingers clutching at his back made his heart shatter in two. Alice was a proud woman, all so self-contained, but now, she was tiny and fragile. She was coming to seams in his arms, but not in the way he wanted. Now, he had to put her together again—one shard at a time.
As furious as he felt about Rutledge, he was more scared for Alice’s well-being. “What do you want me to do? What can I give you, Alice? What do you need?”
The emotions she had beneath her breastbone could not translate to words. “I—I don’t know…” she pressed a hand to her chest. “I feel it, but I don’t know how to put it in words.”
“I know what you want,” he said, his hand cupping the back of her neck and massaging the stiff lines there. Her earlier words about being tired resonated deep in his heart. “I know what you need, sweetheart. You need a release. Listen to me.”
Pulling away, he hated the lost, rootless emotion in her eyes. Alice was a strong woman, independent and brave, but the fear she held for her sister had gutted her to the core. It had probably made her challenge her own innate strength too.
Stepping away, he found a towel in a drawer and pulled his robe from his shoulders. “Go into my washing room, remove your clothes, and come back to me dressed in this.”
He’d dropped his tone to the one that held an unmistakable order. “Dry well, I do not want you to get sick. Now, go.”
She swallowed tightly before heading off to the washing room, while Edward took out a few items from another drawer and rested them on the bed before he ordered Atticus out.
Pacing, he cast through his mind to find the best way to bring Alice from the brink. The soft scrape of the door behind him had him spinning; Alice was there, the lapel of his robe slipping down her shoulder. Her hair was down, a towel-dried tangle down her back.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he whispered.
He bent his head and directed her mouth to open to him with a coaxing kiss. His lips were hard and commanding, his tongue sweeping into her mouth. She sucked eagerly on his offering, and he growled against her lips, thrusting in deeper.
Their kiss caught fire, but he wanted more; angling her head, he kissed the curve of her neck, inhaling the sweet scent of her skin. Who knew that lily and fresh water could be so arousing?
He nuzzled her neck, her shiver causing his hardness to strain against its confines. “In fact, I have a game in mind.”
Her brow pleated. “What sort of game?”
“One inspired by all your talk of striving and self-improvement.” He traced a hand along her side, past the dip of her waist to the swell of her hip. God’s teeth, he liked her shape.
“Do you trust me?” he asked.
A small sound left her lips. “Yes.” She moistened them with her tongue. “I trust you.”
“In which ways do you trust me?” he asked. “Tell me, Alice.”
She shuddered, “To help me when I need it. You gave me your word and you kept it.”
“ And? ”
Alice shook her head. “I don’t know what else.”
She is innocent, after all. Well, partially innocent.
“Do you trust me with your safety?” he asked.
“Yes?”
“Your voice changed cadence at the end,” he noted. “Will you trust me with your safety, yes or no, Alice?”
“Yes.”
“Do you trust me to care for you while you are with me?”
“Yes.”
“Do you trust me with your body?” he pressed.
Her eyes lifted, “…Yes.”
His fingers danced across her collarbone before he rested his palm at the base of her throat. He loosely circled his fingers around her neck, and Alice released a breath.
“Bring your shoulder blades together and then drop them down. Take a few deep breaths. You’re tense, Alice, let the tension go,” he ordered.
Her chest rose and fell, as did her shoulders, and instantly, he saw the stiff lines break. “Again.”
After the third time, even the knot in her brows left her. “Good. Get on my bed, face the headboard on your knees.”
She gave him a flickering look, but climbed on the bed and sat back on her heels, her palms resting on her thighs—and his blood simmered with heat.
Taking the silk blindfold and the rope, he rounded the bed. “Close your eyes, Alice.”
Again, she looked at him, but then did as he asked, and he gently wrapped the blindfold around her eyes. Her sudden inhale was swift, but she didn’t yank it off her head.
“Give me your hands, sweetness. Put your arms out, wrists together,” he ordered. He could see she was unsure as she held her hands up, not knowing what to expect.
She surely didn’t expect her wrists to be tied, the length of the red rope encircling her hands and tugging them together in one quick snap. “I want to make you feel secure.”
“W-why?” Her words trembled.
Edward explained, “When you are bound, you do not have to hold yourself together. This is a safe place, Alice. You can cry, you can scream, you can let go.”
“Pull at your wrists,” he commanded.
She tried to lower her arms, but they didn’t leave their perch from the pillow behind her. “Am I tied to something?” she whispered.
“Yes, to the headboard.” He slid his fingertips around the edges of the bindings. “Not too tight, is it?”
“No.” She tugged again, but her hands barely moved.
“Here, you do not make the decisions; there is no responsibility. You do not have to take care of everyone anymore,” he murmured, his gaze coasting over her pert rounded derrière, tilted up because of the angle of the rope tie. “Here, you can surrender. You shall be taken care of and I’ll be given what I want.”
She was quiet for a moment. “And what you want is my surrender, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” he replied hoarsely, perching a knee on the bed.
“And how do I give you what you want?” she asked.
“By giving yourself the release you need,” Edward hiked up the hem of his robe and exposed her bottom. His hand caressed her smooth skin, and another sweet swift inhale made him smile.
“You need to let your emotions out, Alice. We shall proceed gently,” he assured her. “I shall deliver ten blows for the first infraction, and fifteen for the second. If you feel overwhelmed, say my name, if not, you will say Sir . Now, we begin.”