Mad About the Duke (30 page)

Not a single servant glanced in their direction, for it was likely that such departings occurred all the time—illicit lovers meeting at the duke's party and fleeing into the night for a tryst.

Once outside, they continued through the mews and didn't stop their flight until they reached the street. Under a gaslight that glowed with a cozy warmth, they ended up in each other's arms once again, kissing hungrily, feeding the flames of desire that burned so fiercely.

“Do you trust me?” he whispered.

“Trust you? I love you,” she confessed.

“I hoped you'd say that.” He grinned back, pulling off his jacket and winding it around her bare shoulders. “Come along, my love, my Elinor.”

And into the night they hurried, James saying a small prayer his staff hadn't been negligent in one very important task.

E
linor would have followed James anywhere. But they hadn't gone more than a few blocks when he turned into a long mews behind a row of houses and stopped at a garden gate, tugging her inside the small walled space. Up the path they went, their way lit by the lights from the surrounding houses.

He paused before a line of roses, which were nothing but bare stems sticking out of the ground, and turned over a stone that lay in front of the middle bush.

After digging around for a moment, he pulled a small bottle from the ground.

“Hold out your hand,” he said.

“What if there are bugs inside that?” she said, reluctantly offering him her hand, palm up.

“No bugs,” he promised. “Just the key to my heart and my desire for you.” Then he shook the contents into her gloved palm, and into it fell a small, rusted key.

“Hope this still works,” he muttered, going up the back steps.

“What is this place?” she asked, shivering inside his coat.

“Your new home,” he told her. “If you would like it.”

“More of your winnings?” she asked.

James shook his head. “No. I inherited this house some time ago.” He worked at the key for a time, and when it finally turned, he looked over his shoulder at her and grinned. “And now it is my pleasure to give it to you, for I will never have any need of it. Not after tonight.”

Not have need of a house? Elinor was starting to believe that St. Maur had gone utterly mad. For such a thing made no sense.

As they came inside, the house smelled of lemon oil from a recent cleaning. There was a lamp lit on the table, and it offered a welcoming glow, along with the fires that appeared to have been lit in the last hour or so.

The house was narrow and small and just the sort of place where a man like St. Maur might keep…

Elinor glanced around at the solitary furnishings and the lack of personal touches that made the house seem empty. “Did you move your mistress out to make room for me?”

He laughed. “I've never kept a mistress here,” he told her. “In fact it has been some time since there has been a lady in this house. Actually I have stayed here from time to time—if only to escape.”

“This house feels lonely,” she said, for there was still a chill to the banister beneath her fingers, in the floorboards.

“It is lonely no longer,” he said, taking her into his arms and kissing her, as he had done at Longford's, up against the wall, his body covering hers.

This time there was no rush, no hurried passions but the languor and knowledge that they had all night.

Their night.

“Elinor,” he said, pulling back from her and gazing down into her eyes. “There is much I need to tell you.”

Now? He wanted to talk now? Elinor was in no mood to talk, especially with her body hungry and thrumming to life under his kisses, his touch. For now that she had made her decision to be with him, she wanted just that.

To be with him.

“Please, James,” she said, putting a finger to his lips to stop his words. “Can we talk later?”

To make her case, she rose up on her toes and put her lips to his.

“But I must—”

“Yes, yes,” she whispered back. “I will hear you out, but I don't want to wait any longer. It's been too long.”

Too many days since their time at Colston, and now that she'd discovered what passion could be, what lovemaking meant, she couldn't help herself.

She wanted him.

Running her hands over the front of his trousers, she found her quarry, not that it was difficult to discover, for it was already stiff with longing.

James groaned as she ran her hands over him, sliding them up and down.

He caught hold of her, kissed and carried her up the stairs.

For a moment, she had a fleeting memory of him doing this very same thing, but how could that have been?

Whatever she remembered, it was pushed aside as he dropped her onto his bed, a grand affair with great curtains and a wide, deep mattress.

He stood over her, gazing down at her with a hungry look on his face.

“Do you like my gown now?” she said.

“I'll like it better when you are out of it,” he said, climbing atop her, his hand pulling the velvet up to her waist, his mouth crashing down atop hers in a ravenous kiss. His tongue swiped hers, his hands ran through her hair, caressed her shoulders, cradled her breasts.

It was as if he couldn't get enough of her.

And she understood exactly how he felt, for her body curled and stretched beneath him, as eager for his touch as he was to claim her.

Her dress came over her head, and then her shift as he hurried forth. His mouth clamped down on a nipple, teasing it, sucking it, and Elinor's hips rose, rocked against him.

She reached down and undid his trousers, pushed them and pulled them from his hips with the same frantic need.

The rest of their clothes came off in this reckless fashion, tossed haphazardly in one direction and then the other. It didn't matter that they had all night, they wanted each other with a desire that was too impatient to deny.

For now they were naked and entwined in each other's arms with nothing in the way of their passionate explorations.

His fingers slid between her legs, and she opened herself up to him and sighed loudly as he found her sex, tracing a slow, teasing circle over the nub there.
Her hips danced beneath his touch, while her head arched back as she tried to catch a breath.

She had him in the same grasp, loved hearing him groan as her hand slid up and down and over the wet head of his shaft.

Coils of desire twined their way through her, pulling her tighter and tighter as she was ever so close to finding her completion.

But not just yet…she wanted him inside her, wanted him to stroke her, fill her.

And as if he knew her needs, he moved over her, covering her, and then filling her, taking her in a single stroke.

His hand curled around her hip, drawing her closer, while Elinor moved with him, danced with him, reveling in how he felt sliding over her, teasing her to keep up with him.

He covered her mouth with his and kissed her, stroked her, and they were joined so completely that it was impossible not to drown in their desires, to be completely undone by them.

She came, hard and fast, gasping for air, and her cries became a chorus as James found his completion, filling her, taking hurried, anxious strokes as he found every last wave of desire that washed over them.

 

Sometime much later, sated and exhausted, they fell into each other's arms and sighed.

Elinor had lost count of how many times they'd made love. Here in the bed, on the settee in the sitting room, even in the kitchen, where they'd gone to see if there was anything in the larder (a plate of bread and cheese that they had yet to eat).

“Oh, heavens,” Elinor declared. “Whatever have you done to me?”

“Pleased you, I daresay,” he teased.

She laughed sleepily and curled into his arms. “Immensely.”

“Tomorrow, we shall be wed,” he said, his finger trailing over the Sterling diamonds—the only thing she wore.

“That is good,” she told him, yawning, “for these diamonds are purported to make the wearer fertile.”

James sat up. “A child?”

“Oh, good heavens, it is too soon to know,” she told him, pulling him back into the warmth of the covers. They lay there for a time, and then she looked over at him. “We shall worry about that later.” Much later, for Elinor was nearly lost into the world of dreams. Just before she slipped into sleep, she asked him, “Are we to live here?”

He laughed, rolling on his back, his hands behind his head. “We can live wherever you want. Tia as well. For her guardianship is yours now. I will see to it that it is yours always.”

Elinor sighed happily. “I suppose next you'll tell me you have a castle and a palace to share as well.”

“If you would like,” he said with a magnanimous wave of his hand. “Will Colston do for now?”

Colston
? Now she was convinced he was mad, in a delightful sort of way.

But it was a nice dream to fall asleep to—for there were ever so many rooms there for them to explore…

And just before she drifted off, Elinor rolled over, James pulling her close to him, cradling her in his arms. She lay her head down and glanced at his
hand—those fingers that had plied this passionate bliss from her body.

And for a sleepy moment, she realized he was wearing a ring—a thick, heavy signet ring, a lion's head surrounded by angels, their wings aloft.

It seemed vaguely familiar, like something she'd seen before, but she couldn't quite place where.

But like so much of this night, it was rather like waking from a dream, and she hadn't the wherewithal to puzzle it out, not now, not as she was falling happily to sleep.

Tomorrow she'd ask him about it.

Tomorrow…

 

Elinor had always been an early riser, and so it was the next morning—despite the hours spent making love, including a drowsy bout not an hour earlier that had left James snoring happily, while Elinor's mind raced.

If she was to get married today, then she needed to make some arrangements—and it seemed such a waste of time to wait for James to awaken.

She wanted to start their life together as soon as possible.

So quietly and quickly, she gathered up her clothes, got dressed and slipped from the house.

Her house,
she smiled.

Hailing a hackney from the corner, she rode back to Brook Street in a blissful daze. There she slipped inside the garden entrance and went up to her room, making her simple morning ablutions and changing into a day gown.

After packing the necessary items into a valise, she went downstairs to tell Minerva her glorious news
and ask her if she could watch over Tia for a few days.

Lost in her own thoughts, she didn't even realize that Minerva wasn't alone in the dining room until it was too late.

“Elinor! Such a lie-abed!” Lady Chudley called out.

“My lady,” she managed, slanting a glance at Minerva.

Her friend's brow rose as if to say,
You try and keep her out
.

“Aunt Bedelia, dear. Everyone calls me that.” The lady poured Elinor a cup of tea and bid her to sit down.

Trapped, as it were, Elinor pasted a smile on her face and sat.

“You are just in time for the most delicious gossip—and best of all I've finally happened on the truth of Longford!”

“Longford?!” Elinor gasped. Oh, heavens. She'd hoped never to hear that wretched man's name ever again.

“Yes, I have it directly from Lord Spedding.”

“Spedding?” Minerva said with a sniff. “That old rumpot?”

“Oh, he's bosky most days, agreed, but never before two. Besides, I ran into him this very morning—he was coming in as I was coming down the steps.”

“He lives next door to Aunt Bedelia,” Minerva said by way of explanation.

Elinor smiled politely, for she hadn't the vaguest notion what all this had to do with Longford.

“Apparently, Spedding had to go fetch that scapegoat nephew of his out of one of Longford's private gatherings over on Little Queen Street. Such a name
for a place,
Little Queen
. Why, the ladies over there are hardly—”

“Little Queen Street?” Elinor said faintly.

“Yes, I don't know if I should say such things, but that part of town is where gentlemen keep…keep…houses.” She nodded significantly, as if further explanation was not necessary.

Minerva heaved a sigh. “Where they keep their lady-loves housed. Really, Aunt Bedelia, you needn't cover it up with jam for us.”

“Yes, well, I never know if Elinor's dear sister is about,” she replied, stirring her tea. “But as I was saying, I ran into Spedding this morning.”

“Yes, we recall all that,” Minerva said, “but I can hardly see how this tale is worthy of repeating.”

“Worthy of repeating, my dear?! This tale is imperative to Elinor's well-being.” Aunt Bedelia paused and sent a very significant glance across the table at Elinor.

With this recognition, Elinor sank into her chair. Oh, heavens. Someone had recognized her at Longford's? She was ruined. Done for. Cut off.

But all too quickly, she discovered she had the scenario only partly right.

“Let me see,” Aunt Bedelia said, still stirring her tea at a furious rate. “Oh, yes, Spedding's nephew. Spedding was quite put out that he had to go and rescue his nephew from Longford's party. The boy's taken up with some trollop and had carted her off there, and Spedding's sister, Lady Saffle, was desperate to have her dear boy rescued from that Cyprian's dire clutches.” She paused and plopped another lump of sugar into her tea, beginning the process of stirring it anew. “He's just as much of a drunkard as his uncle, but it is hardly my place to point that out.”

“Most decidedly,” Minerva said, more to be polite than in agreement.

The lady drew a deep breath and launched back into her story. “Well, Elinor, I must tell you to brace yourself, for what I have to say may come as a terrible shock.” Bedelia paused to ensure that she had every bit of attention due such an announcement before she continued by saying, “My dear, Longford is a terrible rotter.”

“No!” Minerva said, feigning horror.

“Yes, it is true,” Bedelia said, having hardly paused in stirring her tea. “According to Spedding, Longford's parties are nothing but”—remembering Tia's presence in the house, she lowered her voice—“horrible occurrences of a lowly sort.” She shook her head. “You must strike him off your list, Elinor. Bar him from your heart, from any consideration.”

Elinor breathed her own sigh and nodded solemnly in agreement. “Most decidedly, madame. Consider him stricken.”