Happily Bedded Bliss: The Rakes of Cavendish Square (26 page)

Animals are so open and honest,
he thought, as he reached out to stroke Burr’s silky head.
If only the same could be said of people.
Although he supposed there were a rare few who surprised him every once in a while.

Like Esme.

He looked at her and felt his chest squeeze tight.

“Tea?” she asked, her blue eyes as open and unguarded as her dog’s.

He shook his head, then glanced away.

He’d almost forgotten what it was like to be near her. She was as bright and radiant as an August sun, bringing light and warmth into even the darkest of places.

And yet the darkness was comfortable and familiar to him; he understood the dark, for all its bleak failings. It was the light that puzzled him, the light that could make even the bravest of men afraid. For how could any man bear to go back to the dark, once he’d given himself fully to the light?

Scowling heavily, he found himself wishing suddenly that she hadn’t come. Yet, contrarily, he was so glad she had.

He waited, idly stroking Burr’s head while Esme ate. Neither of them said much, content to be silent while she enjoyed her meal of cheese-and-watercress sandwiches, fruit compote and walnuts cracked fresh from their shells.

“So,” he said once she was finished. “Time to explain. What are you doing here, my dear? Frankly, I assumed you might be on your way to Braebourne by now to celebrate the holidays with your myriad kith and kin. Won’t they be looking for you to join them? Or are you still planning to journey onward after you tell me what it is you meant by ‘not precisely’ when I asked if there was some difficulty at Ten Elms?”

“Oh, that.” She set her teacup aside.

“Yes, that. What has occurred?”

“Nothing dreadful, really. The house hasn’t burned down or anything.”

“I cannot say I would find that such a bad thing if it had, but please, go on.”

She smoothed a hand over the skirt of her dark green velvet traveling gown. “Well, it began when your uncle decided to pay me an unexpected visit. You Landsdownes all seem to have that in common, curiously enough.”

“He did what?” Gabriel sat up abruptly in his chair, inadvertently dislodging Burr from his knee. The dog moved away to join his fellows.

“I returned from a ride to find him in your office, looking at one of your ledger books,” Esme continued. “Being he is your family, I couldn’t very well just toss him out—”

“That’s precisely what you should have done.”

“I invited him to stay for tea, little knowing what he was really like. He is not a nice man. If the rest of your relations are anything similar, I can well understand why you do not keep in touch.”

A sudden film of rage blurred Gabriel’s eyes. “Did he hurt you?”

“No, nothing like that,” she reassured him. “He just said some rather ugly things, mostly about you. He also let slip the fact that he’s been spying on you for years with the help of Mrs. Foy and Starr. Did you have any idea? Apparently they have all been keeping up a correspondence.”

His hands fisted on his knees. “No, of course I did not know. My steward oversees only the tenants and the land, so I am certain he did not know what was going on inside the house. I left the management of that to Starr and Foy. Had I realized what was actually taking place, those two would have been out the door quicker than I can whistle. I assure you they will be gone as soon as a messenger can be dispatched.”

“Oh, no need. I have dismissed them already. I even took pains to make certain they are not lingering in the
village, but to my relief they have moved on. I elevated Charles to the position of butler, so the house is being well looked after. But I still have need of a new housekeeper. I thought I could search for one while I am here in the city.”

“Who is Charles?”

“Oh, he is one of the footmen from Braebourne. He accompanied Lawrence when he came to see me last month, and I ended up luring him away from Claire and Edward. He’s excellent with the animals.”

For Esme, anyone who was “excellent with the animals” was excellent in all regards, although if he’d been a footman at Braebourne he was clearly honest and well trained.

“And my uncle?” he asked grimly. “What of him?”

“Oh, I booted him out as well, once I’d had more than enough of his hateful bile. I don’t think he likes me any better at this point than he does you.”

“You actually forced him to leave?”

“Yes, with Charles’s help, of course. I mean, Bell. I really do need to remember to use his last name now that he is the butler at Ten Elms.”

Suddenly Gabriel liked this Charles—or Bell—a great deal better.

Christ,
he could kick himself for having left Esme alone at Ten Elms. He never would have if he’d had any idea his villain of an uncle might show up to harass her.

In future, he would need to take more care.

“So is that when you decided to come here?” It surprised him that she hadn’t gone straight to Braebourne and the protection of her brothers. It pleased him that she had come here to him. “You aren’t afraid to be at the estate now, are you?”

“Oh no. I feel perfectly safe there. The servants know to turn your uncle away from now on, and I really don’t imagine he’ll be back.”

I shall make certain of that,
Gabriel promised himself silently.

“But he did say one thing that made sense.”

“Oh? And what might that be?” His voice was grim, knowing that anything his uncle suggested couldn’t be good.

She folded her hands together. “He was very aware that we have not been living together the past few weeks and told me that other people are starting to notice as well. I wouldn’t have paid any attention to it were it not for the fact that Lawrence as much as said the same thing to me earlier. Our hasty marriage stirred up enough talk. We don’t need to give all the tale-tellers even more to wag their tongues about.”

“Let them wag. I’ve never cared what people think and I’m not about to start now.”

“In the main, I would agree. But we are not the only ones involved. It will affect my family too, and they have already done enough to put a good face on our union without us messing it all up again.”

He flexed his fingers against his thighs. “Which means what exactly?”

“I thought I would stay here for a while, possibly until the Season begins. Once people see us together, and in accord, the speculation will die down. They’ll all grow bored and move on to the next cause célèbre.”

His eyes narrowed. “You seem awfully knowledgeable about such matters for a young woman who was in the schoolroom not so very long ago.”

“Only because my family has already weathered more than its fair share of scandals. I may not have been directly involved at the time, but one cannot help but hear things.”

“Even through closed doors?”

A little smile played over her lips. “Especially through closed doors.”

Briefly, he smiled, then leaned back to consider everything she’d just said. “And what of Christmas? Are you expecting us to travel to Braebourne?”

She shook her head. “No. I’ve already written to
Mama and Edward asking them to excuse us this year. I explained that we want to spend our first Christmas together alone. So don’t worry that you’ll be put to the trouble of playacting again like we did before we left for our honeymoon. We’ll have a quiet holiday. You’ll hardly even know I’m here.”

Oh, I’ll know.

How could he not when her presence alone was enough to fill every room with life, as if the house and everyone in it had been half-asleep until she’d burst through the door?

He let his gaze move over her, drinking in her effervescent beauty all over again, while his blood sang with familiar longing.

Should he go along with her plan? He couldn’t immediately come up with a reason not to do so.

Before she’d arrived, he’d already decided to join her again at Ten Elms. So why not in London? He could slake his passions with her here just as easily as he could in the country. And maybe she was right. Maybe it would be a good thing to quash the gossip before it got horribly out of hand.

“Very well,” he said. “We’ll do it your way for now. Welcome to Landsdowne House, my dear.”

•   •   •

Esme hugged her pleasure and relief to herself as she made her way upstairs to the viscountess’s suite of rooms. Her plan had worked even better than she’d imagined. She’d feared Gabriel might balk at the idea of her moving in or, worse, try to send her back to Ten Elms.

Instead he had agreed.

She’d been prepared to use whatever persuasion might prove necessary, but in the end, he hadn’t been all that hard to convince.

Yet that had been the easy part.

Now the real work would begin.

First, she would have to find some means of healing the damage to their marriage. Perhaps she had been
guilty of expecting too much of him—more, she realized now, than he had been capable of giving. Her own emotions were always open, her ability to love freely expressed and plain for all to see. She’d had the benefit of being raised with love, always secure inside a family circle whose affection and support were unquestioning and fixed.

But not Gabriel.

He’d suffered unimaginable loss at a very young age. Been abandoned and betrayed, then abused and deceived by those who ought to have protected him, who should have loved him without condition or reserve.

She understood now that he kept a great deal of himself hidden, locked away behind a guise of cool indifference that no one was allowed to look behind.

But she saw.

She knew there was more to him than the blackhearted hedonist he’d spent years convincing the world that he was. Perhaps he even believed it himself.

But she didn’t.

She knew there was a goodness buried inside him, a kindness he tried hard to conceal.

She’d felt it.

There was love inside him too; he only needed someone to help him find a way to let it out.

And that would be her second task—to make a home with him and show him what it was like to be loved without fear or reservation.

She’d realized before that she had scared him off by openly confessing her love. This time she would not be so obvious. Instead, she would give him the freedom he needed to be comfortable with her while she found ways to quietly demonstrate her devotion.

She had worked with enough wounded animals in her time to know that you couldn’t smother and push them too fast to accept you or they would remain wary of even the most tender care. Gentle, consistent handling and affection were the keys to their hearts. She
just prayed they would prove the keys to Gabriel’s heart as well.

And if she somehow managed to perform a miracle and earn his trust, what then? Would he be willing to make their marriage a true union of partners rather than one of necessity and convenience? Would he want to be with her, freely and of his own accord, rather than turn his back on everything they could have together?

Even now, she knew that she owed it to them both to try.

For what choice did she really have, when she loved him so much? When it was her future and her very happiness that were at stake?

G
abriel was surprised by how easily she welcomed him back into her bed. Considering the way he’d run off with only a brief note to explain his abrupt departure from Ten Elms last autumn, he’d assumed he would have to use some clever methods of seduction to get past her bruised feelings.

Instead, she’d lain in her bed watching him as he’d taken off his robe, then slipped in beside her. Sliding his arms around her, he’d kissed her. Hungrily, she’d kissed him back, meeting his demands with ardent demands of her own.

After a while, she’d pushed him onto his back, then sat up on her knees and pulled her nightgown off over her head, leaving her naked to his view. Leaning close, she ran her hands over his chest and arms and stomach before sliding lower.

“You asked me earlier if I missed you,” she said in a sultry voice, as she curled her fingers around his stiff, aching shaft. “I did. My bed has been lonely without you.”

She stroked him with her hand until he moaned low in his throat. Then she bent and took him into her mouth, her long dark hair pooling in silky waves over his stomach and thighs.

She worked him until he was shaking and on the edge of release before raising herself to straddle him. Legs parted, she sheathed him deep inside her body, cradling him inside her slick velvet warmth. His hands went to her hips and he took her, driving deep and hard, hips thrusting until they built each other into a frenzy.

When it was over, she said nothing, and neither did he.

Content. Replete.

But instead of cuddling as she always had before, Esme put on her nightgown, then rolled onto her side away from him.

“Good night, Gabriel. Sleep well.” She yawned and pulled up the covers. “Close the door on your way out unless you want the cats and dogs in bed with you.”

It took him a few moments to come to terms with the fact that she was kicking him out. Slowly, he climbed out of bed. Collecting his robe, he shrugged into it.

“Good night, Esme.”

Feeling oddly cold and alone, he went to his room.

•   •   •

Christmas Day dawned cold and clear, the ground white and sparkling with a blanket of snow that had fallen overnight.

Gabriel awakened alone again, as he had each morning for the past week. Lying quietly in his bed, he listened to the faint sounds coming from Esme’s dressing room next door.

Generally, he left her to her own devices during the day, each of them separately occupied until they had dinner together, then met again later in bed.

Since her arrival she had stayed busy in her efforts to bring Ten Elms into the modern age. According to Nathan, who accompanied her on all of her outings, she had been meeting with vendors and merchants, craftsmen and even a couple of architects, as she made selections on everything from paint and wall coverings to rugs, furniture, lamps, china and silverware.

She’d asked Gabriel once if he was quite certain he didn’t object to the expense, but he’d waved off her concerns, telling her to just send the bills to him and to buy whatever she liked.

When Gabriel had asked Nathan about the shopping expeditions, the footman explained that her ladyship bought only the highest-quality goods and services, but that she wasn’t above seeking out an excellent bargain. With a laugh, the footman had told him that it was the
merchants who needed to beware of being fleeced, not the other way around. Esme might look like a hothouse rose, but when it came to business, she was as shrewd as they came.

Gabriel was aware that she was also quietly insinuating herself into his London household as its new mistress. For although she hadn’t initiated any permanent changes to Landsdowne House, her touch could already be felt in every corner of the residence, from the fragrant, freshly cut holly and pine boughs that wrapped the mantelpieces and banisters, to the array of new meatless dishes his chef was being inspired to create, to the smiles on the faces of the servants as they went about their duties. He’d even caught Pike whistling a holiday tune under his breath the previous day as the butler stood arranging the floral centerpieces for the dining room table.

In only a week, Esme had brought a warmth and vibrancy to the house that it had never before had. And yet when it came to him and Esme, there seemed to be more distance between them than ever.

She didn’t turn him away when he came to her bed each night. In fact, she always welcomed him with a generous, fiery passion that never failed to steal his breath and leave his body wrung out and thoroughly replete. He had never expected to find such passion with his wife, especially considering the circumstances of their union. Yet she made it clear that she no longer wished to sleep with him, turning away once they were done making love, her silence the signal for him to leave.

He ought to have been thrilled, he knew. After all, a pleasant, nonconfrontational relationship with regular, satisfying sex was exactly what he’d wanted. It was the perfect marriage, offering companionship without all the messy emotional entanglements that led to dissatisfaction and disillusionment.

So why did he mind that she no longer wanted to sleep in his arms?

Why was it tearing at him that she had yet to tell him again that she loved him?

Had he been right and her admission of love had been nothing more than naive infatuation? Or had she actually cared for him but he’d killed the nascent tendrils of her devotion when he’d deserted her?

Whichever it was, he didn’t like it. No, he didn’t like it at all, although what he was going to do about it, he couldn’t yet decide.

Tossing back the covers, he reached for his robe, then got out of bed.

A fluffy white cat, whose name he thought was Mozart, of all things, sat in a chair, where the creature had obviously been watching him for some time.

“How did you get in here?” he asked.

The cat blinked his green eyes but made no reply.

He walked closer, then reached out and gently scratched the top of the cat’s head. Mozart’s eyes slitted and he began to purr.

“I’ll bet you could tell me what she’s thinking, especially since she lets you sleep with her.”

Mozart purred louder.

“Braggart.”

Leaving the cat, Gabriel started toward his dressing room, then changed his mind. Moving instead to the connecting door between his room and Esme’s, he gave a quick rap and went inside.

•   •   •

Esme sat at the table that stood in front of her sitting room’s large window. Beyond, she had a lovely view of the snow-covered garden, where a stone fountain with its impish cupid was bedecked in white.

Steam wafted from the cup of tea she’d just poured,
one of the scones from the basket Paula had brought her sitting on a small blue-and-white china plate.

She heard the knock and looked up. Her pulse gave a little hop as she watched Gabriel walk inside. He was still in his robe, his hair tousled from sleep.

He looked mouthwateringly divine.

This was the first time he’d joined her in her rooms for breakfast. Usually, he was up and out of the house before she awakened. But perhaps even Gabriel relaxed on Christmas Day. Then again, nearly everything was closed, so there wasn’t a great deal for him to do but stay abed and sleep late.

“I thought I heard you up,” he said as he came forward and dropped into the chair opposite. “That looks good.” He nodded toward the scone.

Without asking, she took another one out of the basket, set it on a plate and passed it to him. “Would you care for tea or shall I send down for coffee?”

“Tea will do.”

While she poured, he buttered the pastry and bit in, making a sound of pleasure low in his throat. “One of your cats is in my room,” he said conversationally.

“Oh, do you want me to go in and get her?”

Gabriel shook his head. “Him. And no, he’s fine, except for the cat fur. But I presume the maids will sweep it up.”

“Yes, I am sure they shall.”

Esme hid a quiet smile as she raised her teacup to her lips.

Despite an occasional grumble from him about all the “furry interlopers in the house,” she could tell that Gabriel liked the dogs and cats. She’d caught him more than once petting one of them when he didn’t think anyone else was watching. And the dogs always raced to greet him when he’d been out and returned to Landsdowne House.

“Happy Christmas, by the way,” she said quietly.

“Oh. Right. Happy Christmas.”

Then he went back to eating.

She supposed, given what she’d learned, that Christmases hadn’t been very festive for him, not even as a child. She thought of her own childhood Christmases at Braebourne, how joyous and lively they had always been, the house filled to bursting with noise, laughter and frivolity.

And family, of course. Lots and lots of family.

She was missing everyone today but glad that she was here with Gabriel. Maybe, if he would let her, she could show him how very special the holiday could be.

“So what shall we do today?” she asked in a bright voice.

He paused midbite. “Do?”

“Why, yes. I was thinking after church that we might take a ride in the park. Or I hear there is a holiday fair going on near the Thames. That might be entertaining.”

“Yes, if you like having your pockets picked. Such events are notoriously riddled with thieves looking for a few unsuspecting pigeons to pluck.”

She doubted any thief with an ounce of sense would come within ten feet of Gabriel, since he was one of the least “unsuspecting” individuals she had ever known. It would be rather like a mouse trying to get the better of a sharp-clawed cat.

“Well, just the ride in the park, then.”

“It’s too cold and slick. And it might snow again.”

From the look of the near cloudless sky, she didn’t think so, but she decided not to argue.

He drank the last of the tea in his cup. “As for church, I don’t attend and am not about to start. Considering my less than saintly behavior, I would probably be turned to ash the moment I set foot over the threshold.”

“I rather doubt that,” she said with amusement. “And it’s not as if I attend regularly either, but Christmas service is always nice. Come with me. It will be fun.”

“‘Fun’ and ‘church’ are not two words that I ever associate together.” With a shake of his head, he leaned
back in his chair. “Forgive me, my dear, but you will have to count me out of that plan as well.”

“What about playing some games, then?” she suggested. “I realize there are only the two of us, but speculation and charades are always amusing.”

“You want me to play charades? Really, Esme?”

She tossed up her hands and let out an exasperated huff of breath. “Fine, then what would you propose, since I can see there is no pleasing you today?”

“Hmm, what to do?” he mused aloud. “I have an idea.”

She tried her best not to be irritated. “Oh? And what might that be?”

As she watched, a wicked glint sparked to life in his golden eyes, a familiar look that could signal only one thing.

“Oh no.” She shook her head and started to get up from her chair. “We are not doing
that
right now.”

Reaching out, he caught hold of her wrist and pulled her toward him. “Doing what?”

“You know
what
. Now, behave.”

“I
am
behaving, exactly like I always do.”

“Gabriel, it’s Christmas Day.”

“Yes, it is, and I want to open my present.”

Before she had any further chance to react, he pulled her onto his lap and began plundering her mouth, leading her into a dance that was dark and feverish with passion.

She didn’t protest, never able to resist him once he’d laid his hands on her. She should curse herself for being so weak, she supposed, but how could she when his touch was always so sublime? And when he was the only man she knew she would ever want.

Tunneling her fingers into his hair, she kissed him back, circling her tongue around his in a wet, silken slide. He groaned and palmed one of her breasts through her nightgown, pushing her robe off so it dropped to the floor. He arched her over his arm, then broke off their kiss so he could suckle her breasts, not
bothering to take off the gown but finding her through the material.

She grew wet, and not just where his mouth was on her breasts. Restlessly, she shifted her legs and cupped his head to press him nearer. He hummed low in his throat and teased her with his teeth in ways that made her shudder.

Suddenly, he stopped and stood her on her feet. Her knees were pleasurably wobbly. She expected him to take her to bed, but he shoved the dishes aside instead and lifted her up on the table. He pushed her nightgown up to her waist, then sat back down in his chair.

“Spread your legs,” he said.

“Gabriel, maybe we should—”

“Spread them.”

An anticipatory shiver went through her, and she parted her legs.

“Wider.”

She opened them more, exposing her inner flesh to the cool air of the room.

“Good girl.”

He reached behind her and she heard the china rattle.

What is he doing?

To her astonishment, she saw that he was holding the jam pot. Her eyes widened as he dipped two fingers in and scooped out some of the thick sugary jelly.

It glistened, red and viscous.

“What are you— Oh my God,” she cried, her delicate flesh contracting as he began to smear the sticky confection over her nether lips.

She shuddered, then shuddered again as he used his fingers to paint her with a slow, thorough attentiveness, pausing to scoop out more of the jam so that she was slick and sticky. Her breasts ached, tips puckering, blood beating in wild strokes as he teased her slit from base to top in a way that was nothing short of torture.

Then he set the jam pot aside.

Meeting and holding her gaze, he sucked the jam off
his fingers, first one, then the next, sucking slowly as he laved them clean. “Hmm, red currant. My favorite.”

Slipping his hands under her thighs, he angled them even wider and buried his head in between.

She peaked almost instantly, her need already so great that his first few licks were enough to send her over the edge. Crying out, she dug her fingers into the table linens, barely caring when she heard some of the dishware tumble off onto the floor.