Chapter Six #3
Robert looked solicitous. He brushed a stray curl away from her cheek. “A cup of coffee is what you need but that is difficult to procure.”
“Water would be refreshing,” she suggested.
She followed meekly as Robert led her out of the ballroom, leading her towards a side room where refreshments were set out for guests who were in need of a little sustenance before supper.
When he showed her into a chair near a window, she sat down, leaning back and closing her eyes to cut out the noise and light.
She wished it was possible to open the window, some fresh air would help.
But many members of the haut ton had a similar abhorrence of fresh night air as the Prince Regent did, believing that it would cause all kinds of rheums and influenzas.
She opened her eyes when she felt a hand rest on her shoulder and firm fingers stroke her neck. Robert was holding a cup in one hand and surreptitiously touching her shoulder and the top of her bosom with the other. Her muscles relaxed even more and she smiled sleepily at him.
A few guests were milling around but for once, they were not focusing much on Gwendolyn. The aroma of coffee suffused her senses and she gulped the warm beverage gratefully, although she did prefer a little sugar in her coffee to sweeten the bitterness.
Robert sat down beside her, slipping his arm around her shoulder. She shivered with pleasure that tingled through her body. She relaxed against his arm as she sipped her coffee, her inhibitions slipped away.
Her comfort and complacency were ripped away when two ladies she had never seen before stopped near the sofa on which she was seated. The one snorted softly. “Look at her, no shame, whatsoever.”
The second sniffed. “How dreadful that decent people are subjected to such disgusting displays.”
Gwendolyn sat up straight, almost dropping her coffee cup, which Robert rescued just in time.
Her eyes flashed fire and her indignation spilled over.
“I am so tired of being criticized by stiff, passionless sticklers of Society who have no idea how to find pleasure even when they are surrounded by every opportunity for enjoyment.”
The two women stared and spluttered. Robert took her hand. “Miss Burroughs, perhaps we will find a housemaid who can bring you some chamomile tea.”
Gwendolyn gaped at him, but meekly stood up when he did.
She usually took chamomile tea when her stomach was unwell, and she was feeling a little queasy.
She swept past the stupefied ladies and tried not to stumble as her head ached.
“Actually,” she said as they left the refreshment room, “it is my head that is hurting more than my stomach.”
“That’s often the consequence of too much champagne when you’re not used to it,” Robert said.
Gwendolyn hiccupped. “I don’t think I’ll drink it ever again.”
“That would be a pity,” Robert said as he pushed the door to a small sitting room that had been used when one of the Cartwright aunts had twisted her ankle earlier in the year and she hadn’t been able to go upstairs.
Gwendolyn’s knees buckled and she grabbed hold of the edges of Robert’s waistcoat so she didn’t fall. Beneath her fingers, she could feel the hardness of his chest. She smiled.
“Hmm, your skin feels warm.”
She giggled but her head felt worse now than when she had guzzled the champagne earlier.
Robert slid his arms around her and held her closer to him.
His hands roamed over her back, seeking the bare skin at the base of her neck.
The heat that pulsed between them eased the churning of her stomach and the aching of her head.
Robert lowered his head and sought her lips, kissing her hard. She responded to him as the dizzying sensations caused her body to reach for more pleasure. Her hands tightened in the folds of his shirt and she pushed herself up onto her toes to make it easier to touch his mouth.
After a few moments, she had to take a breath, and she pulled back, gasping.
Robert grinned at her. “My head is spinning. I need to sit down,” she gasped.
She looked around the small sitting room.
A small lamp was burning on a side table, revealing a low daybed near the far wall on which cushions were piled high. “That looks comfortable.”
Robert put his arm around her shoulders and helped her over to the couch. She sank down gratefully. “That’s better.”
A small table to the side of the couch held a carafe of brandy, a pitcher of water, and a few glasses. Robert poured a measure of brandy into two glasses and topped Gwendolyn’s up with water. He left his neat.
He sat down next to Gwendolyn, very close, his thigh pressing against hers and gulped down his drink while she swirled hers in her glass and took small sips.
She sighed. He leaned across her, put his empty glass on the table, and left his arm on her shoulders.
He massaged her neck slowly. “What’s that sigh for? ” he asked.
She leaned her head against his chest and let her fingers drift against the soft linen of his shirt. “I am so tired of fighting against the rigidity of society. I just want to be myself, not a puppet that dances to the strings pulled by fussy old women like Countess Lieven.”
Robert chuckled and mussed her hair, displacing some of the pins that held it in its carefully arranged style. “It is unfair that they do their best to dampen your fire and passion, the things that make you so fascinating. It will be easier when you are married.”
He leaned down and kissed her, softly at first but soon desire overwhelmed them both and the kiss became more intense.
Gwendolyn met his passion, pressing against his body and moving her mouth against his.
Her lips parted and he responded to her invitation, sliding his tongue into her mouth and sucking hers.
Gwendolyn lost herself in the pleasure of the moment, her headache easing as new sensations flooded through her body. Breathing became difficult and reluctantly she pulled away, inhaling deeply. “I liked that,” she said, trailing her fingers over his jaw. “Can we do it again?”
Robert did not answer with words. He touched his mouth to hers and kissed her again.
As he did so, he lowered her against the cushions and moved her feet onto the end of the seat.
Her legs were bent and he reached down, tugging at the silk ribbons that fastened her shoes until they came loose and fell to the floor.
Slowly his hands moved up her legs, molding her calves and then stroking her thighs.
While he did so, he continued to kiss her, moving his mouth down the column of her neck and teasing the soft skin of her shoulders and décolletage.
The hand under her skirt shoved the material aside and pushed her legs wide.
Her eyes flew open. “What are you doing?”
He laughed softly. “Helping you overcome your headache.”
“But, but…”
“You do feel better, don’t you?”
She nodded. “I’ve never felt like this before.”
“Then there’s no need to be missish about taking this farther. After all, this is what married couples do, at least those who are more liberal than the sticks of wood like the countess who believe ladies should never feel any passion or pleasure.”
The movement of his hands on her legs made her insides melt and she parted her legs wider, her objections overcome by the pleasure that filled her body. “This is good,” she murmured. “More, please.”
His hands were stroking the soft flesh of her inner thighs that were slick and wet with the juices the flowed from her willing pussy.
He leaned over her and kissed her mouth hard, pressing his tongue between her lips while at the same time he unbuttoned his breeches and yanked out his cock. He positioned himself between her thighs, pinning her to the couch with the weight of his body.
Gwendolyn grunted under his weight and shifted, lifting her hips to rub against him.
Never had she experienced anything that brought such intense stimulation to her body.
And even when Robert took his cock in his fist and guided it into her tight pussy where he thrust into her, breaking her maidenhood, the momentary pain was subsumed by the flood of pleasure that pulsed through her.
He thrust into her faster and faster and she quickly matched his rhythm.
She was chanting his name as he thrust into her, her eyes were closed as she let the sensations wash over her.
She didn’t notice that Sir Percy was leaning against the door jamb, his snuff box in his hand as he carefully took a pinch and sniffed it.
Gwendolyn felt Robert’s muscles tighten as his body went stiff. She opened her eyes to see his face red and screwed up as he moaned. He thrust faster and faster and suddenly she felt a gush of something hot filling her. She held onto him as her own pleasure remained just out of reach.
His manhood softened in her and he slid out.
She was panting softly. Robert rolled off her and fastened the buttons of his fall as he stood up.
“Thanks, that was fun and just what I needed tonight.” He glanced at where she was still lying on the couch, her skirts pulled up and her thighs smeared with wetness, blood, and slicks of semen.
“You’d better get back to your friends before they realize you’ve gone.
” He hardly glanced at her again as he straightened his clothes and ran his fingers through his hair.
Gwendolyn clutched at the material of her dress and tugged it down to cover her nakedness.
Her legs were sore and the pain in her private parts was so intense it was difficult to move.
“But, wouldn’t it be better if we stayed together?
” Her voice rasped. She had enjoyed the experience but was bewildered now that it was over.
She watched Robert, her eyes slightly glazed.
He turned to her, genuine puzzlement on his face. “You wouldn’t want people to think you and I had been alone together. Remember the fuss that was made when we just sat together for a few minutes.”
“Will you call on my father tomorrow to finalize everything for our marriage?” Even as Gwendolyn asked the question, she knew, from the evasive expression in Robert’s eyes that he would do all he could to avoid following through on the half-promises he had made about marrying her.
“I have some people to see and I might be away from London for a few days.” He walked out of the room.
Gwendolyn couldn’t move as he left the room. The last bubbles of the champagne that had whirled through her, giving her the courage to defy society’s conventions, floated away and burst with all her dreams.
*
Roland Montgomery arrived late at the Cartwright’s ball, having first attended a lecture given by Humphrey Davy at the Royal Institute on agricultural chemistry.
He had thought of staying away from this ball altogether, but he had promised to meet Lord Driscoll here and he was a man who always kept his word. Montgomery wanted to escape the crush of the crowds at the front of the house and so used a side entrance to make a quiet entrance.
He frowned as he entered the house. He had not expected to see Sir Percy Calver saunter down the corridor, an amused smile on his face. The renowned busybody nodded a greeting but didn’t stop to talk.
Montgomery didn’t have to wonder about his presence in this out-of-the-way part of the house for long. A door to a small sitting room opened and Robert came out, striding down the corridor while straightening the sleeves of his shirt and adjusting his rumpled cravat.
Lord Montgomery came up beside his cousin and kept pace with him. “What have you and Calver been doing?”
Robert smirked. “You really are far too solicitous about my doings. However, if you insist on satisfying your curiosity, Percy and I were settling a private bet.”
Roland was not satisfied with this answer but they had reached the ballroom and Robert disappeared into the throng of dancers.
Roland greeted some acquaintances, but something about Walker’s behavior troubled him.
He forgot about his intended meeting with Lord Driscoll.
The uneasiness in his mind urged him to search for Gwendolyn.
After a few minutes, he spotted her standing with her cousin.
He let out a deep breath, only then realizing that he had been holding it.
Whatever Walker and Calver had been up to, it had not likely involved Miss Burroughs.
The uneasiness he had been feeling slipped away and he shrugged at himself.
He really had no reason to be interested in Miss Burroughs, beyond the fact that she was probably going to marry his cousin.
He had no intention of moving nearer to her but his feet acted of their own accord and he found himself close enough to notice some oddities in her appearance.
She was standing with her back to a wall and Mariana was close to her, a look of concern on her face.
Something about the way they were leaning close together suggested they were engaged in a private conversation and should not be interrupted.
Gwendolyn’s hair was mussed, her cheeks pale and her eyes red as if she had been crying. She clutched her dress in tight fists and seemed unable to stand straight.
Mariana was asking questions to which Gwendolyn just kept shaking her head. He decided intervention was necessary.
“Miss Winterton, Miss Burroughs, good evening.” Annoyance tightened the corners of Gwendolyn’s mouth but before she could summon her best manners, he continued. “Please excuse my interference but you are not well, Miss Burroughs. May I offer my assistance? Could I fetch you a glass of wine?”
Gwendolyn shook her head but Mariana turned to him, relief flooding her face. “Lord Montgomery, I wish there was some way I could get Gwen home but the carriage is under her mother’s orders.”
“I will call mine. I have only just arrived and it will be easy for my coachman to take you home. I will ensure that your mother knows that you have left. Perhaps you could wait in the refreshment room while I arrange matters.”
He wondered why Gwendolyn tensed at the mention of the refreshment room but he didn’t wait to find out as he went to call his carriage.