Forbidden (31 page)

"But I'm not at all confident, not at heart."

"Perish the thought. I never feel like a marchioness, but I've learned to act the part." She gave Serena a very warm hug, as if she understood some of her anxieties. "You are not to worry," she instructed firmly. "You are a Rogue now. You are safe from '
the terror by night, the pestilence that walketh in darkness, and the destruction that waiteth at noonday
.' Trust us. Yes?"

Serena could do nothing but nod.

Beth left, but her words lingered. They had the force of a command. Serena understood them, but she felt like a starving waif peeping into a banqueting hall. The feast, however, was not food but security. She saw it, she could smell it and almost taste it, but she was not sure it was really for her.

She was not sure that she deserved it.

Francis returned, and she could not penetrate his courtesy to find the truth. They talked of the gowns, of the Rogues, and of the puppy. He laughed at Brandy's predatory ways and was as amiable as anyone could wish, but in some way it wasn't real. Serena could only assume that he was masking his unhappiness and disappointment.

Was this to be the pattern of their lives?

The dowager joined them for luncheon and was equally polite, though in a far more chilly manner. When she agreed to join their theater party, it was with a daunting air of sacrifice. When the dowager left to visit a friend, Serena had to ask, "Francis, will your mother live with us?"

"Freezing you, is she?" he asked without offense. "It is a problem. We could take alternative quarters in town but there's little option in the country, and I'm afraid my mother is deeply attached to the Priory. She and my father built it, you see."

"Built it?"

"From the ground up. My father inherited a Tudor manor house which had first been a priory. I gather the old house really was falling down—deathwatch beetle and everything. They decided to build anew. The planning and construction took the first five years of my parents' marriage, and I suppose there is a part of them both in it. My mother loved my father very deeply."

"I see," said Serena. She did, but the future was daunting.

"I keep hoping that she will marry again—she's still a handsome woman—but I doubt she could bring herself to leave the Priory, or to replace my father."

"I will do my best to live with her in harmony," Serena said.
Anything for you, my dear.

An awareness stirred within her, an awareness of how much she wanted to touch his heart....

"Perhaps it will help when the child is born," he said, as if from a distance.

Will it help us, too?
She wished she dared touch him, invite him. Good heavens, it was the middle of the day. She rose to her feet. "I think I should rest."

Then she was aware that she was using tiredness as an excuse to hide from him, when she knew it was as good as slamming her bedroom door in his face.

"A good idea. We'll be out late tonight." He rose to escort her to the door, but captured her hand and raised it for a kiss. It was not a simple kiss of courtesy, but somehow heated. His other hand cherished her waist, her hip, then pulled her closer.

Serena looked up at him, her nerves leaping with a combination of hope and anxiety. He looked so somber. What was he thinking?

"I think we should practice kisses," he said huskily, "to see if we can find some you like." His hand had come to rest on her bottom, pressing her against him. She could feel his hardness. For whatever reason, at this moment he desired her.

"Kiss me," he whispered.

What did he mean by that? Serena slid her hands behind his neck to lower his head to hers, kissing him gently on the lips. He pulled her hips against his restlessly.

"More," he said.

She opened her lips a little against his, then brought her tongue into play teasingly.

Abruptly, he slanted his head and melded with her mouth hotly. He moved a few steps so she was pressed against the wall and one hand came up to knead at her breast. His hips pressed against her. She took his tongue and sucked it, moving her hips against his encouragingly.
Oh, yes, my love, let me do this for you....

Suddenly, he broke free. He stepped back, eyes wild and heated. "I'm sorry," he said tightly.

She moved toward him. "It's all right...."

He swung away. "Just leave, Serena."

Serena fled, fighting tears. Did he hate this marriage so much that he could not even bear to take his ease in it?

* * *

Francis buried his face in his hands. God, what was he to do? Another moment and he would have been taking his wife there against the wall like a street doxy in an alley. He paced the room, struggling with himself.

Serena's face as she had turned to flee him was imprinted upon his mind. He'd terrified her. She needed tenderness, and all he seemed able to offer her was maddened lust.

He called for his coat and strode out of the house. The only safety was to be away from his wife.

He knew he would be welcome at Belcraven House, or he could go to one of his clubs, but such company did not appeal. Instead, he went to Scarborough Lane, to the house of Blanche Hardcastle.

Her maid was a little startled to see him, but admitted that her mistress was at home and took him into the parlor. Francis wondered what the devil he was doing here. Hal could be here. If Hal wasn't here, his visit could look peculiar.

Blanche came in, dressed in white as was her habit. "Francis. What can I do for you?"

It was as if she could read his mind. "I need advice."

She sat down and gestured for him to take a seat. "About your wife?"

"Yes. Is it
so obvious?"

She smiled gently. "It's bound to be complicated."

"An understatement, I assure you. Will Hal mind me being here?"

"If he does, he'll get his marching orders," she said. "I'm no man's chattel."

"Is that why you won't marry him?"

"I thought we were to talk of your problems, not mine. But no, that isn't the reason. Love binds without laws. But love also trusts."

"Trust," he sighed. "I suppose trust takes time."

"It takes time to root. It has to be tested, I think. But it can come quickly."

"And if trust is broken?"

"Then it takes time to mend. Is that the problem?"

Francis realized that he had little reason to distrust Serena. Her first action had been unwise, but he could understand it. There was really no evidence that she had done anything else questionable. "Not really," he said.

"Then it must be sex."

He could feel himself flushing.

Her eyes flashed with knowing humor. "Why else would you seek out me rather than one of the Rogues?"

"Does it seem an insult? I'm sorry."

"Of course it doesn't. It's a simple fact that I've taken a great many men to my bed and made it my business to learn the art of it. I would rather have been born a lady of leisure and lived in perfect virtue, but I wasn't and I haven't. It was either a life of squalor or use the gifts God gave me, and I regret very little that I have done. Now, what can I do to help?"

Francis leaned back in his chair and the words came out more easily than he had expected. "I was a virgin until I met Serena."

"Ah." Then she smiled. "That's lovely."

"Lovely!"

"Yes." She twinkled a smile at him. "Don't ever let this past your lips, but I suspect Lucien was a virgin when I became his mistress."

"Lucien!"

"You see, all those merry schoolboy tales you shared were probably mostly just that. Tales." She smiled into the distance and said, "He was nineteen and so beautiful,
I
would have paid
him
if I'd been able to afford such a creature. I think when he offered to make me his mistress, he was just playing the game, doing what was expected. He was quite shocked when I agreed, though he hid it well, even then. If not the first, I was certainly the first to join with him with care and leisure. I felt very honored. I also felt a responsibility. I think I trained him well." She looked back at Francis. "Does Serena know?"

"No. I doubt she'd think it so marvelous."

"Why not?"

"She doesn't like it. Lovemaking."

"She refuses you?"

"No. She..." Francis rose restlessly to his feet. "I don't know. Perhaps she is normal. How would I know? She doesn't seem to enjoy herself. She seems to be tense.... I'm clearly doing something wrong."

Blanche rose, too. "Do you want to share my bed, Francis? Is that why you came here?"

He turned sharply. "God, no."

"Good. I am faithful in my own way. I could find you another woman, though. A good one."

"No. Is that the only way to learn?"

"I don't know. I'm sure Serena's experiences in her marriage were not pleasant...."

"So am I."

He was more reluctant than he had been over his own ignorance, but he told her about the jewels.

"Ah. Poor girl. But if she welcomes you, that says a lot. Do you take the time to give her pleasure?"

He could feel the damnable color flood his cheeks again. In a way he resented Blanche's questions, but he would put up with them for both Serena's sake and his. "I've tried. She seems to like some things but never stops thinking, damn her."

"Perhaps her first husband punished her if she stopped thinking."

He looked at her, arrested. "Do you think so?"

"It's very likely. He was an older man, and sometimes such men don't find it easy to couple. He probably taught her ways to help him and punished her if he failed."

"What can I do, then?"

"Make love to her and show her that you won't blame her for any shortcomings."

"Even if she doesn't get full pleasure?"

"Of course. To expect that from her is a kind of burden, don't you think? But don't do anything she doesn't like."

He took another restless turn. "Sometimes my desire is too great. I cannot be as careful as I want."

"Francis, are you avoiding her because of that?"

At her tone of amused reproof, he turned. "I'm only thinking of her."

She put her hands on her hips. "Lord above. Such unselfishness is likely to kill you both! It will just make matters worse. Take your pleasure in a mad storm if you must, but then give her pleasure afterward."

"I tell you, I can't."

"I didn't say orgasm. I said pleasure. Hold her. Stroke her. You could massage her."

"Massage her?"

"As I did to you in Melton."

Francis was feeling rather dazed. "I see. You think this best?"

"I think abstinence will solve nothing. If the intensity of your need bothers you, there are ways to relieve it. I'm sure you know them."

He was blushing again, damn it. "I don't know if I'll ever be able to face you again after this."

She laughed gently. "Yes, you will. Serena is your wife, Francis, and I cannot believe that she finds you repugnant. She will be happy to serve you in bed, if that is all it is, but I think she will welcome the closeness that comes of it, too. In time, there will probably be more, but don't make her response a challenge for her. She has had enough, I would suspect, of bedtime challenges."

"I think you're right. Your advice, however, fits so neatly with my desires that I suspect it."

"Don't. I always put a woman's cause before a man's."

Francis left the house and wandered the streets, not seeking companionship, trying to decide if Blanche's advice was sound or not. He had to believe her final statement, though. She thought such a course would be better for Serena as well as for him.

He knew Serena was unhappy. He could sense it. Their present situation was not ideal, with his mother's antagonism and the stress of entering Society, but there was more to it than that. Perhaps some intimacy would be helpful.

His desire, of course, was to rush home and drag his wife into the bedroom immediately, but the very intensity of the need gave him pause. The nighttime would be better.

* * *

Francis had not returned by the time Serena had to start preparing for the evening. She took her bath, and then her maid assisted her into her underclothes and arranged her hair. The maid proved skillful but claimed that Serena's hair was perfect to work with. Whatever the cause, she worked the deep red mass into an artistic masterpiece of curls and tendrils, finishing it with an aigrette of creamy lace and russet feathers.

Serena decided she had best not go anywhere near Brandy looking like this.

She considered the attractive arrangement uneasily. It was second nature for her now to play down her looks, and this style did anything but. It emphasized her eyes and the length of her slender neck. Did it make her look bold and wanton?

She remembered Harriet Wilson. "A cocked gun pointed at the heart of this man's world." In this situation, was a gun a good or a bad thing?