Provocative in Pearls (29 page)

She leaned forward and braced on her arms. Sliding up, she stopped right when their joining would be broken. Then she moved her hips down and absorbed him again. Wonderful pleasure shivered around their union. She did it again, shifting a little so he was in even deeper.

His hands rested on her hips but he did not guide her. She moved harder, faster, trying this and that. The hum became something more, a deep awareness and heat that hinted at a new mystery.

His hold on her hips tightened. Guiding now, he held her to his thrusts. She surrendered to the power of it, and met him breath for breath and thrust for thrust. The hum gave way to the most wonderful shivers. Unearthly sensations, unlike anything before, centered deeply where he moved in her. Then they rippled out with a compelling tremble. Almost immediately the ripple became one crashing, violent wave.

She cried as it inundated her with its dark brilliance. She cried again and again when it broke once more during Hawkeswell’s final ravishment. It was unlike any release she had experienced before and it awed her.

She collapsed on him, spent and disoriented, sore from the way they had shared without restraint. His arms wrapped her and he held her close, pressed against his chest, long into the night.

He slept, but she did not. She looked into her heart, at the emotions of the last days. She turned and kissed his chest again, without him knowing, and lingered there, pressing her lips to his skin and feeling close to him in so many unexpected ways.

She had accepted fate in admitting that this marriage would stand, whether she had chosen it or not. Had it been only that, though? If she could still get free, would she want to? The question shocked her even as she asked it.

She did not know the answer, but she did know some things. She would grieve if they parted now. She would miss the intimacy and the passion. She would have never been this bold with Michael, or been this moved by desire. She knew that in having to stay in this marriage, she would not hate this life that she was not supposed to have.

She did not move until Hawkeswell stirred. Then she slipped off the bed, and put on her gown to return to her room. He woke enough to notice. He reached for her.

Bending over, she kissed him. “I think that it is time to return to London. I have learned almost all that I will ever learn here. But first I want to call on Lady Cleobury. I have been remiss in not doing so. Then we can go.”

L
ord Cleobury’s estate was the closest landholding to Oldbury owned by a peer to actually have a peer in residence much of the year. Most of the others were leased to farmers or to mines. As a result, Lord Cleobury occupied a position of considerable influence in the county of Staffordshire.

“He normally attends county assemblies of any size or significance. The arrival of him and Lady Cleobury is always anticipated with excitement,” Mrs. Geraldson explained while they rode in the carriage past fields nearing harvest.

“He takes his position in the county very seriously, and rightfully considers it his duty to keep an eye on local matters.”

“I expect that he has a say in who becomes justice of the peace and coroner and such,” Verity said.

“I do not believe that such a situation could be attained without his approval.”

Mrs. Geraldson had inserted herself into this visit, announcing it would be a good opportunity to see her dear friend Lady Cleobury after some weeks apart. Colleen had then decided to come too. With protection such as this, along with the coachman and a groom, Hawkeswell had concluded that his own presence was not required.

Lord Cleobury displayed disappointment at that decision. He condescended to receive the ladies along with his wife when they arrived, only to look in vain for his fellow peer to enter the drawing room too.

“Most unfortunate,” he muttered upon hearing Verity’s excuse that Hawkeswell had decided to ride the county to get a sense of the mood abroad in it. “I could have explained matters to his satisfaction, and looked forward to doing it, so I might avoid going to town for sessions this autumn. Not to be, I fear. Not to be.” He turned his balding, narrow head to his wife. “You will have to come too, my dear. I daren’t leave you here with the rabble all around.”

“I am told that you have made superior preparations for the rabble, sir,” Verity said.

“I have at that, but it takes a man to command the wall, does it not? With my absence we will be vulnerable and I fear if this house falls, so does the whole county.”

“Hawkeswell expressed an interest in your defenses.”

“Did he, now? Pity he did not come, so he could take note of them himself. Surrey is not far from London, and he may need the same. If you will come with me, Lady Hawkeswell, I will show you that which is visible, and you can describe it to him as best you are able.”

His wife did not move to join them. She engaged Mrs. Geraldson with a question, making it clear that she at least had seen his lines of defense often enough already. Mrs. Geraldson and Colleen sat to visit while Lord Cleobury escorted Verity out to the back terrace.

There had been no exaggeration about his preparations. Four cannon of good size stood there, their long snouts extending beyond the low terrace wall. A pile of balls waited for the uprising.

Did Lord Cleobury intend to fire these cannon himself? Or did he assume that his servants would fight to the death to protect his privilege?

“Manchester is that way,” he said meaningfully, pointing toward the woods.

“If the rabble march, would they not more likely take the road?”

“They are more cunning than you suspect, Lady Hawkeswell. Far more cunning. I have mapped the most direct route from Manchester to this house, and I assure you they will come right through that woods and this garden.”

She admired the cannon and complimented him on his shrewdness. “This county is fortunate indeed to have you here, sir. The rabble must get through you to pillage the rest.”

“You assume they are only to the north. I regret to say they are all around us. Vigilance is required in every direction. A few more hangings are in order, I say, to remind men of the rights of property.”

“Has that been necessary? The London papers have not reported such things out of Staffordshire.”

“The London papers do not know everything. Rest assured that we do not allow seditious behavior here, and are quick to deal with it.”

Do you make people disappear? Have there already been some hangings, that the papers and people do not know about?
She ached to ask the questions, and to perceive the true character beneath Lord Cleobury’s avuncular demeanor and harmless-looking, thin person. Her heart thickened, because she feared that she knew the answers to both questions.

She looked at the balls. Iron, and well made. The cannon appeared familiar too. Cast in one piece, they had been bored out. “Did you have these made at my father’s ironworks?”

“I did indeed. The army thinks the cannon made there are superior. I count myself lucky that it is mere miles away.”

“My cousin counts himself lucky for your interest and patronage in turn, I am sure.”

“We have similar interests, my dear Lady Hawkeswell, and that is the source of any condescension on my part. The leaders in a county must stick together these days, despite their different stations. I hope that I am not so particular about the natural social order that I deny a fellow man in need when he is bedeviled by criminals.”

“You refer to the trouble at the ironworks last winter, when the yeomanry were called up. Your voice would have been helpful to that call, I am sure.”

He smiled indulgently, and wiggled his eyebrows to convey mystery. “That and other trouble. I expect there will be more. Bertram Thompson knows what he faces. He saw it before most others, and is smart enough to dig out the roots before the poisonous vine grows. Have no worries for your cousin, my dear.”

He returned her to the drawing room. She spent the next hour discussing the latest fashions in hats and bonnets, all the while hiding her aching sorrow.

She suspected that Lord Cleobury, Bertram, and the other “leaders” of the county had two years ago dug out a root named Michael Bowman.

 

 

S
he was not sorry to leave. She had learned what she came to learn, about her father’s legacy and, she feared, about Michael.

She sent Bertram and Nancy a very short note announcing her departure. Other than Mrs. Geraldson, there was only one person who required a real leave-taking, and Hawkeswell took her to Katy’s cottage the afternoon prior to their journey.

He escorted her to the door this time, and greeted Katy before excusing himself. Once more Verity sat in the only good chair and Katy on the stool in the little room that never seemed to have enough light.

“I want you to come with me,” Verity said. “When I leave here tomorrow morning, I want you in the carriage beside me. Hawkeswell has agreed to it. You can live in the country if you like. His housekeeper in Surrey is a kind woman and you will not be ill-treated or made to feel unwelcome.”

Katy’s eyes filled with tears but she smiled with joy. “You are still a little girl, aren’t you? To be worrying about your Katy, and you a countess at that. I can’t be coming, though. How will Michael find me, when he comes back?”

“He will ask at the works, and they will tell him how to find you.” She gritted her teeth against the urge to weep. She was sure that Katy guessed Michael was dead, but did not want to give up hope. She leaned forward, and took Katy’s hands in hers. “You can wait for his return in Surrey as well as here.”

Katy’s head bowed low, until her head covered their hands. She stayed like that, and her attempts at composure were visible in her tensing back.

“This is my home, Verity. I have lived here my entire life. This cottage is poor and I’ve little left, but the people of my girlhood are still down the road, and my friends are in the church graveyard. I can’t be going at my age, and living among strangers.”

“I am not a stranger, Katy.”

She looked up, and reached out to pat Verity’s face. “No, you are not, but you will be, bit by bit, as time goes by. You are a countess now, and will be more of one every day. There is no wrong in it. It is a wonderful thing, and I’m so proud of you. But it can’t help but change you, child. When you leave here tomorrow, Oldbury will not be your home any longer. I think that you already know that.”

She did know it. It had not been the same here even during this visit. It had not been what she remembered, or what she had dreamed of.

They all looked at her differently too, and took care in their talk. Even Mr. Travis, for all his friendliness, never really forgot he spoke to a countess. Her dream of coming home had been a child’s dream, of the innocent play and happy times before her father died. She could not reclaim that, however. Even if Hawkeswell had given her the freedom to be Verity Thompson again, she could never be
that
Verity Thompson.

It was her turn to be moved. She slid off her chair, to the floor beside Katy’s legs. She laid her head on Katy’s lap as she had so often as a child and an unhappy girl. Katy stroked her head with comforting caresses while the tears spilled silently.

H
awkeswell opened the French doors and stepped onto the terrace. A good deal of commotion greeted him.

Three men dug toward the back of the garden. Deep footings had already been built at four corners of a rectangle, and they now swung picks and shovels at Verity’s command to create trenches of some kind.

Daphne Joyes stood beside Verity holding one side of a large drawing while Celia held the other. Periodically Verity would point to the drawing, then to the ground, and instruct the men further.

Colleen also stood with them, watching. She noticed him and came back to the terrace.

“She is ruining the garden,” she said. “No town house needs a conservatory of that size, and she has chosen a rather ugly design. Why, it will not even connect with the house.”

“It is not intended to house a few palms and a lemon tree. I am sure the design suits her intentions.”

“Could you not convince her that one greenhouse in Surrey is adequate? I fear she will become known as eccentric. And these women . . .” She made a helpless gesture toward the friends. “You really need to consider her future, Hawkeswell, and be more firm with her.”

He was of a mind to tell Colleen to tend to her own garden, but he held his tongue. She had been helpful to Verity, and offered friendship when most other women offered only cruel gossip. If Colleen ever pressed that friendship too far, he assumed that Verity would create more distance.

Furthermore, helping Verity also gave Colleen a purpose, and an excuse to escape her mother in Surrey. She had opened her mother’s London house immediately, and seemed to prefer town to country now. She had become a frequent caller here, and often was with Verity when he returned in the evening.

“I promised her a free hand with the gardens, Colleen. As for the ladies of The Rarest Blooms, she will never give up those friendships. If I forbade her to see them, she would do it anyway.”

Colleen’s dismay reflected her opinion of a wife so willful. “Perhaps you can instruct her not to dig in the dirt herself, at least? Or to wear other than those old dresses and that horrible bonnet?”

He thought Verity looked charming in that old dress and bonnet. “She will always dig herself, from time to time, so it may be best if she does it in old dresses.”

Colleen frowned at him. “You are not helping matters, Grayson.”

He laughed. “The truth is I am not inclined to be firm with her about too much, dear cousin. Speak to me in a year or two, when the first passion has perhaps passed.”