The Last of Lady Lansdown (29 page)

“Let me see.” He traced his fingers slowly through the triangle of silken hair, then slid a finger into the hot, wet spot between her legs. “Umm, so
very
ready.”

“What about you?” She surprised him by sliding her legs closed and propping herself up on one elbow. “Mercy me, it’s very big.” She gazed down at his throbbing member, which by now was at full mast.

“Bigger than the earl’s when he took the Spanish Fly?”

“Hmm, let me see.”

Silently he watched as her delicate little hand traced a tingling path down his chest, his stomach, then farther down until it reached his cock. When she wrapped her fingers around it and squeezed, the feeling was so intense he let out an “Oh, God,” and fell back on the pillow.

She was leaning close over his cock now, examining it closely. “Yes, it’s absolutely bigger than the earl’s ever even thought of being.”

“Cocks don’t think, they feel.”

“They do?” She sounded all innocent. “Then do you think it feels this?” With a feather touch, she moved her hand up and down his throbbing shaft, causing his stomach to clench. He so desperately wanted to plunge himself inside her.

“Or this?” Grasping him firmly in one hand, she lightly brushed the fingers of her other hand across that pinnacle of all pleasure, the tip of his cock.

“You’re killing me.”

“Can you think of a better way to die?” She cast him a wicked little grin. “I think what it really needs is to be kissed. Do you mind?”

“If you feel you must,” he replied. The understatement of the century, perhaps since the beginning of time.

He lay still, his eyes drinking in the entrancing sight of Jane’s nude form bending over him, her hair loosened from its combs, falling forward in disarray around those full, white breasts that swung enticingly. When the tip of her tongue touched the side of his cock, a state of near euphoria enveloped him. She ran the roughness of her tongue up his shaft, and he had to grit his teeth from crying out. In an agony of anticipation, he waited until her slow journey up his cock ended with her lips sliding down over the tip. Then she suckled, sending him soaring toward an explosion of ecstasy.

Wait. Not yet
. He could stand only so much. He reached down, entwined his fingers in her hair and pulled her head away. “Not yet. I want inside you.”

* * * *

“Oh, yes.” Gladly, joyfully, she let him spread her legs apart. When he rolled atop her and entered, her pleasure increased inch by inch as his cock drove inside her. Then he began a slow, deliberate stroking, and she raised her hips to meet each stroke in a flesh against flesh tempo that bound their bodies together. All at once, his hands tightly gripped her shoulders. In one swift move, he rolled them over so suddenly she found he was on the bottom and she on top. “What happened?” she gasped.

He grinned up at her. “Change of pace. You’re in charge.”

At first she didn’t quite know what to do, but soon she discovered the delight of controlling every move. Riding his cock at her chosen pace gave rise to increasing bursts of joyous sensations. Beyond that ...

What she was feeling was much more than plain sexual pleasure. All her life she had overheard the dirty sexual innuendoes, the tittering little jokes exchanged behind fans that had led her to believe sex was all about lust and nothing more. Now, with Douglas deep inside her, she felt not only the physical joy of their coupling but the deep fulfillment of achieving the ultimate closeness to the man she loved. Yes,
loved
. She
loved
Douglas Cartland. She wanted to tell him.

Her hair falling loosely around her face and shoulders, she looked down into his brown eyes brimming with tenderness. “Douglas, I—”

“My darling. God, how good.” He raised his hips and gave a shove that caused a golden explosion within her. Her breath caught in a long, surrendering moan before she hurtled past the point of no return and erupted into an awesome, shuddering ecstasy. At the same time, so did he.

For a long while they lay together on the pink satin cover, exhausted, happy, totally satisfied. Finally, when they got up to dress, he asked in a casual way, “By the way, did you ever come ’round?”

She stopped halfway through pulling her stocking on. “As a matter of fact, it’s come and gone. No little Lord Lansdown is on the way, and so ...” She made a sweeping gesture around the cluttered room and said with a touch of irony, “Just think, all this will soon be mine.”

“Look at the bright side. You will have the freedom to do as you please.”

“Indeed I shall.” She waited. Why was he not ecstatic? Here was the perfect moment for him to speak up, declare his love for her, propose marriage or at least suggest they had a future together.

He pulled on his breeches and said in an off-hand tone, “Your sister-in-law must be beside herself with delight.”

“Beatrice doesn’t know yet.”

He appeared not to hear. “Actually your dower house isn’t all that bad. Give it a good airing ... clear out all the crazy countess’ junk ... You’ll be proud you live here.”

No declaration of love. No marriage proposal. The remnants of her glow of happiness dimmed and disappeared, replaced by humiliation and a deep, numbing hurt. What a fool she was. Now she felt like a whore. It was a wonder he hadn’t offered to pay for her services.

He buttoned his breeches, a task to which he was giving his undivided attention, as if nothing mattered more, including her. Anger filled her heart just watching him. She wanted to hurt him, and even more, wanted to save her pride and show how little she cared. She blurted the first thing that came to her head. “You would never guess what my mother planned.”

“What?” He didn’t bother to look up.

She moved to the old countess’ dressing table and sat upon the pink upholstered bench. “My mother knows about us,” she said brightly. With great casualness, she examined herself in the mirror, picked up a comb and began to fix her hair. “She wanted us to ... well, carry on.”

“What do you mean?”

“Can’t you guess?” She laughed gaily, determined to save her pride if nothing else. “She was hoping you could ... oh, how can I put this delicately?” Another gay laugh. “To put it bluntly, she was hoping you could get me with child. A son, of course, whom I could pass off as the new little earl.”

He stopped buttoning, raised his head and stared. Oh, yes, she definitely had his attention. She continued, “A rather amusing idea, don’t you think? Still, not a bad plan when you consider—”

“What do you take me for, some sort of stud?” His words came out hard, edged with anger.

“Do calm yourself, Douglas,” she replied in a silky voice. “Why should you care, one way or another? This is simply a dalliance, is it not? Nothing to get upset about.” She stood to face him.

“A dalliance?” Like a shot, he strode across the room and gripped her shoulders, his brown eyes blazing. “You consider this just a dalliance?”

“Yes, I do, and why not? I hear no words of love coming from your mouth, no talk of marriage, so really, why should you concern yourself with consequences?”

He gripped her arms tighter and said in a voice deep with intensity, “You want words of love? Then yes, Countess, I love you. I have never in my life met a woman like you and I absolutely adore you. You wreck my sleep each night because I stay awake thinking about you. As for marriage, I cannot.” His face twisted with anguish as he thrust her away.

“I don’t understand you.”

“There is no need for you to understand.” He drew a deep breath, seeming to will himself back to normalcy. “Your mother’s scheme is monstrous. I’m more than a little surprised you would stoop so low as to be part of it.”

“You misunderstand. I—”

“I understand well enough.” The temperature in the room had turned frosty. “It’s best I go. I’ve said enough.”

“Go then.” She was not about to beg him to stay, nor would she demean herself further by trying to explain why she would never have agreed to her mother’s scheme.

He finished buttoning his shirt, sat on the bed and pulled on his boots. At the door he turned and said, “Goodbye, Countess. If you’re looking for a stud, kindly look elsewhere. I will not be available.”

He left before she could even open her mouth to answer. In a sick daze, she listened to his heavy footsteps pounding down the stairs, followed by a decisive slam of the front door.

With a heavy heart, she rode Beauty home. It was over. She had lost him. Why had she been so stupid as to reveal her mother’s ridiculous scheme? And why, after being fool enough to tell Douglas, had she let her pride get in the way of explaining why she would never have been part of it? But then, why should she care what he thought? He was a cad who had used her and would have continued to do so had she not put an end to their affair.

One thing she knew for certain: Douglas was right. Mama’s scheme was indeed monstrous. She would have no part of it. She hoped the Eltons returned soon so she could tell them the truth and get the whole sordid scheme off her mind.

It was not going to be easy. She didn’t know which ordeal she dreaded more—watching Beatrice salivate with delight over becoming the new countess or watching her poor mother fall apart when she learned she must leave Chatfield Court forever.

When she arrived home, Griggs met her in the entry hall. “Mr. and Mrs. Elton have returned, madam, and Percy. I thought you would want to know.”

“Thank you, Griggs.” So they were back. She would tell them at dinner tonight. Better warn her mother first.

She joined Mama in the drawing room where she sat working her embroidery. “I have something to tell you.”

Amelia Hart looked up from her stitching. “You’ve been riding? I hope with Douglas Cartland.”

“Yes, with Douglas.”

Mama smiled. “Ah, so you’re seeing him. That means—”

“That means no such thing. It is over.”

Amelia dropped her embroidery to her lap. “What do you mean, it is over?”

“I mean I want nothing to do with your plan.” Seeing her mother’s shocked expression, Jane sat beside her on the sofa and took her hand. “I know you meant well, but I simply cannot go through with such deception.” She smiled gently. “We’ll be fine, Mama. We just need to get on with our lives. I couldn’t have asked for a better mother than you. I promise I will do my best to give you a good life and make you happy.”

Tears sprang to Amelia’s eyes. She groped for her handkerchief. “You were my last hope.”

“There’s always America. Don’t forget, Papa wants you to come.”

“Never!”

No sense arguing. Mama would never change. There was nothing more to say. What a terrible day, and it wasn’t over yet. Tonight she must watch Beatrice Elton gloat over what to her would be the happiest news in the world.

That night, as expected, the Eltons appeared at the dinner table. They brought a subdued Percy with them. He sat quietly at his place, carefully avoiding eye contact with Jane. James remained his usual sly, unpleasant self. Beatrice, all smiles, chatted endlessly about their delightful visit to London, including every boring detail of how her fabulous children were doing fabulously well.

The right moment for Jane’s revelation came halfway through dinner during a rare lull in the conversation. As offhand as she could manage, she remarked, “By the way, Beatrice, you will be happy to learn I am not with child.”

Beatrice’s eyes widened with surprise. She was struck speechless but not for long. “You are sure, my dear?”

“Positive. We shall be moving to the dower house shortly.” Jane allowed herself a wry smile. “Whether Sir Archibald approves or not.”

Mama startled them all by swiftly rising from her chair and hurling her serviette on the table. “Excuse me. I am not well,” she declared, her mouth tight and grim. She quickly left the room, followed by Millicent, who looked close to tears.

“Poor Amelia,” Beatrice said with a satisfied smile. “Poor Millicent. Well, they will just have to get used to their new station in life, now won’t they?”

Jane fought the urge to wrap her hands around her sister-in-law’s chubby neck and strangle her. Instead, with slow dignity, she, too, arose from the table. “You need not concern yourself further about either me or my family.”

Beatrice dropped her smile. “All I’m concerned about now is finding the Lansdown jewels.”

Not again
, Jane thought with disgust. Would the woman never quit? “I don’t have them. This is the last time I’m going to tell you that.”

“I don’t believe you.” Beatrice nearly spat the words out. “I give you fair warning, Jane. If you don’t give up the jewels, I shall accuse you of theft.”

“Do what you please, but it won’t do you any good.” She turned on her heels and left the dining room, her heart hammering. Upstairs, she was almost to her bedchamber when Meg Twimby approached, a polishing cloth in her hand. “May I have a word with you, madam?”

Jane stopped and smiled. “Meg, how are you? How is your family?”

“As well as can be expected, m’lady, although Matthew is still sick and don’t seem to get better. Of course we’re all a bit worried about the river. I have never seen it so high.”

“Nor have I. We can but hope for the best.” A silly question popped into her head. No doubt Meg would not know the answer, but it wouldn’t hurt to ask. “Do you remember what you told me about the Eltons tearing the house apart searching for the Lansdown jewels?” Meg nodded. “Well, I don’t suppose you would have any idea where they might be?”

Meg looked carefully around, bent toward Jane’s ear and whispered, “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about, your ladyship. I know exactly where they are.”

Chapter 17

“The jewels are in the earl’s bedchamber,” Meg whispered. “I will show you where.”

“My word! Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

Jane recovered from her astonishment. “Wait here. We don’t want Mister Elton surprising us. I’ll make sure he’s elsewhere.” She hurried down the stairs and took a quick peek into the dining room, where she saw glassy-eyed James lingering over his port. Obviously deep in his cups, he did not look as if he would be moving any time soon. She raced back upstairs. Together she and Meg entered the earl’s bedchamber. Meg went to the fireplace and knelt on the hearth. “They’re here, madam. I found his lordship’s hiding place by accident this morning while I was cleaning out the ashes. I saw a crack and ...” With both hands, she slid up one of the large stones from the hearth, revealing a large wooden box beneath. She pulled it out and opened the carved lid. Inside, a dazzling assortment of jewels caused a small gasp to escape Jane’s lips. She sank on her knees beside Meg and ran her fingers through the jumbled collection—the pearl and amber necklace once owned by a Russian czarina, the blue heart diamond ring originally part of the French crown jewels. Rings, bracelets, earrings—most of which she had never seen before—all made of gold and silver, embedded with precious stones.