Dark Regency: The Redemption Of A Rogue Part 7

He had just stuffed the letter into his pocket when he heard the sound of voices coming from just beyond the door. Moving quickly, his steps sure even in the darkness, he crouched behind a large chair in the corner, his eyes trained on the door as it began to open. Rupert stepped inside, Squire Blevins following him, the door closed again, and the room was lit only by the small candelabra that the Squire carried.

"There was no sign of the girl... I searched along the banks of the stream but found nothing. She can't have gone far, if she survived at all," the Squire said.

Rupert nodded, "I agree. At this point, it's a question of locating her remains."

"There is Blagdon Hall, which is close by," the Squire offered. "Id she'd sought aid there, all could be lost."

Rupert dismissed the concerns with a wave of his hand, "If she'd made it to Blagdon Hall; Ellersleigh would have said something"

The Squire nodded his agreement.." He isn't the type to let something like that go, even if she was just a village girl."

Rupert coughed softly, holding a handkerchief to his lips. Michael recalled his coughing during the first dinner he'd attended at Whitby Hall. With the medications he'd discovered in their chambers, it was obvious that Rupert was in the early stages of consumption.

"Just so," Rupert agreed. "But I don't like his presence here. Lavinia's plan to seduce the artifact out from under him has failed miserably, and we must have that piece for the final ritual."

"And Abbigail?" Blevins asked.

Rupert smiled, "When Ellersleigh is out of the way, and the staff is in our possession, we will both have our fill of her, without the burden of virgin missishness... Who knows, Squire? Now that she's had a man betwixt her thighs, she might be a bit more amenable to our advances."

Blevins chuckled, "I hope not. I prefer it when there's a bit of a fight in them."

Michael watched the two men leave, his fists clenched and anger boiling inside him. With everything in him, he wanted to challenge them openly, but he couldn't. He needed proof of what they were doing, and more than ever, he needed to know what their ultimate goal was. First and foremost, he needed to get Abby somewhere safe, and figure out what b.l.o.o.d.y artifact it was that they wanted.

Michael made his way back up the servant's stairs, and into the hallway that housed his and Abigail's rooms. In only his breeches and s.h.i.+rt, he gave every impression of a man returning from a tryst. Lavinia was waiting for him outside the door. Her hair was mussed, her clothing rumpled, and she smelled of s.e.x.

"Ellersleigh," she said in greeting, her tongue stroking her bottom lip. "I see you've been partaking of the bounty I provided for you."

"What are you doing here, Lavinia?"

She laughed softly, "I was hoping you would show your appreciation for my unparalleled skill as a hostess. Every woman under this roof has had you or wishes to. It's a dream come true for most men."

Exhausted beyond belief and disgusted beyond measure by her and her cohorts, he didn't bother to conceal his disdain as he spoke. "I do not need you to act as a procuress for me, Lavinia."

Her hands stroked over her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, tugging the bodice of her gown so that the rouged circles of her areolas were visible to him. She continued to touch herself, her hands stroking over her belly to press between her thighs. "I could be anything you needed... Do anything you needed. Whatever you desire, no matter how dark and depraved, you have but to speak it to me, and it will be yours."

Michael leaned close to her, "Then I will speak clearly, Lavinia. I only desire for you to return to your husband and leave me be. Abbigail and I will be leaving on the morrow."

She smiled, though the expression was far from warm. It was a bit like a cat baring its teeth in threat. "Enjoy your newly wedded bliss."

Michael felt vaguely sickened. She had already serviced Squire Blevins, and there were no limit of options for whom he'd just been with, and yet she stood outside the room where his wife slept, attempting to seduce him. "Stay away from us both, Lavinia. I want no part of you, and if you importune Abigail in any way, I will make you regret it."

She laughed again, maniacally, "Will you beat me? It isn't the punishment that you imagine, Lord Ellersleigh. There is a point where the pain transcends everything, and the body achieves a state of bliss like nothing else."

He didn't touch her but remained completely aloof, when he said, "No, I will not beat you. But I will ruin you. I will see to it that no society hostess will even give you admittance... How quickly will your circle of lovers dwindle then?"

"Burn in h.e.l.l, Ellersleigh."

"Without a doubt, Lady Whitby, but I imagine you will be there first."

After Lavinia had disappeared down the length of the hall, Michael entered the room to find Abigail sitting up in the middle of the bed. She was wide awake and staring at him with concern. "How much did you overhear?"

"Enough to know that Lavinia has somehow crossed from perversion into madness," she replied.

He didn't discount what she said though he knew that sometimes it was a much finer line than he hoped she would ever realize. "We're leaving tomorrow."

"You found something didn't you?"

He debated for a moment but then decided that the truth was the best of the options. Being prepared might very well keep her alive. "I'm not sure, but I did overhear enough to know that we are both in danger here. I believe that Rupert is ill... and nothing makes a man more dangerous than desperation."

He didn't tell her what he'd overheard between the Squire and Rupert. He doubted it would surprise her at any rate. She knew Rupert's motives well enough already. He just couldn't bring himsefl to speak of it. "We will leave for London day after tomorrow, and I know you won't like it, but I intend to ask Lady Westerbrook to accompany us. Regardless of our past relations.h.i.+p, the people here are not the sort she normally a.s.sociates with. I fear that she is very much in over her head, and only because of her a.s.sociation with me."

Abbi shook her head. "No, absolutely not. She will not go with us... And you will not speak with her. I will. I can impress upon her how dangerous Whitby Hall can be. It will be a.s.sumed by every gossip in this house that we are having a jealous confrontation, which will precipitate our departure."

"Will it be a jealous confrontation?"

Her eyebrow lifted slightly but her expression remained calm and aloof otherwise. "No. Jealousy is a wasted emotion, my lord. You will do what you will do regardless of whether or not I obsess about it. It just so happens that in this case, it is to our benefit to feign such poor self-control."

Chastened, Michael stripped off his clothing and climbed into bed for the second time that evening. Given what he had seen and heard, and all he had to think about, he didn't imagine that sleep would come anytime soon. He'd spent many sleepless nights in bed with women, but they had normally been of a more pleasant variety.

Chapter Eleven.

The following morning, Abbi confronted Lady Westerbrook in a quiet corner of the morning room. Most other ladies were still abed. "I realize that I have little enough control over my husband's behavior. I have no control over yours, but I would ask that, at the very least, you manage discretion in your encounters." Abbi's voice was perfectly cordial, if somewhat chilly and just loud enough to be overheard by others..

Lady Caroline Westerbrook smiled. In spite of her tender feelings for Lord Ellersleigh, she did not envy the young viscountess. It would take a strong woman to survive the reformation of such a rogue. "You misunderstand the situation, Lady Ellersleigh. While I hold your husband in very high regard, the nature of our relations.h.i.+p has changed dramatically, given the current circ.u.mstances. There will be no encounters between us that would require discretion."

Abbi thought she might have liked Lady Caroline Westerbrook had the circ.u.mstances been different. Glancing about the room as if remembering herself, she took Lady Westerbrook by the elbow and steered her toward a small alcove. More quietly, she added, "Thank you for the a.s.surances. I would also like to impart a warning to you. There are events that you are not privy to, Lady Westerbrook, and it is not safe for you to be in this house. I would advise you to leave for London today and to decline any future invitations from Lady Whitby."

"Of course, Lady Ellersleigh. I had reached much the same conclusion myself. I spent the better part of the evening praying that the lock on my door would hold. This is not the sort of house party I am used to attending."

"I apologize that you were drawn into such unpleasant and dangerous circ.u.mstances due to the machinations of my stepsister. Have a safe and pleasant journey," Abbi said and began to walk away.

"He has feelings for you... more than either of you realize," Caroline said.

Abbi looked over her shoulder, "Excuse me?"

Caroline chuckled, "Lord Ellersleigh, your husband, has feelings for you that are somewhat unexpected for him. Just as I suspect that your feelings for him are growing quite complex, as well...It's a different thing altogether to enter into an affair with a man than to have those intimacies within one's marriage bed. They take on a different significance when sanctioned by the church."

"That is a bold a.s.sessment, Lady Westerbrook."

The other woman moved nearer, and there was a sadness in her gaze, as she said, "It's in his eyes. He looks at you in a way that he never looked at me, and in a way that he has never looked at another woman in all the years that I have known him...He is a good and honorable man, and I think he has a great deal of pain inside him. If he feels for you what I believe he does, you could heal him."

"You have known him for a very long time, I take it." Abbi didn't want to ask; she didn't mean to be sucked into gossiping about her own husband with his former mistress.

"Yes. He was a friend of my husband for many years. We were never lovers then. While Michael certainly dallied with married women, they have never been the wives of his friends. After my dear Charles had pa.s.sed, Michael was a great comfort to me, but only as a friend. It was last year that we became lovers, and only because I asked it of him. I had been alone for a very long time, you see. Charles had been so sick, that we hadn't well, the physical side of our relations.h.i.+p suffered tremendously."

"You really needn't tell me all this."

Caroline took Abbi's hand imploringly. "On the contrary, I must. Michael never actually desired me. We were friends, and I am a woman who is quite aware of her looks. Our relations.h.i.+p was one of convenience, not pa.s.sion. There is pa.s.sion between the two of you, and if you will allow it, that pa.s.sion can blossom into something wonderful."

"You take a great deal upon yourself when you advise the wife of your former lover on how to be happy in her marriage, Lady Westerbrook," Abbi said. The words were not heated, but a reflection of her confusion and Caroline interpreted it as such.

"Not so much really. I love Michael, though I have never been in love with him. I did have designs on him though. It isn't that I wanted to marry him so much as that I wanted to be married again. I enjoyed being a wife, Lady Ellersleigh, of having a man to love and tend to," she paused and drew a deep breath. "Loving Michael as I do, it is only natural that I would want him to be happy, Lady Ellersleigh. I believe that you could make him very happy."

Abbi hadn't expected that the woman she'd prepared herself to despise would be warm and giving, even helpful. "I will take it under advis.e.m.e.nt."

"I sense that you have suffered enough pain and disappointment in your own short life that you deserve a bit of happiness for yourself, my lady. G.o.d speed on what will surely be a journey for the ages," Lady Westerbrook said with a soft laugh."

It was too much. Abbi had her fill of the conversation and the rush of emotion that accompanied it. Hope was not something she often let herself experience. It was too fragile and far too easily dashed. To have it spring from such an unlikely source only made it more suspect. "Thank you for your kind words and your goodwill." Abbi quickly exited the morning room.

Michael was waiting for her in the foyer; their bags already loaded into the waiting carriage. Noting the odd expression on her face, Michael asked, "Are you alright?"

Abbi didn't really know how to answer him. She felt unsettled. She was far more frightened of what Lady Westerbrook had said than anything else that occurred. "I'm fine, just eager to be home and away from all this."

"As am I," he said.

During the short ride back to Blagdon Hall, Michael wondered at her strangely quiet mood but didn't question it. Though she seemed subdued, the tension and anger between them seemed to have abated, and he had no wish to resurrect it.

The next morning, they left for London. Sarah accompanied them, as Michael intended to use the trip to not only research what sort of artifact it was that Lavinia and Rupert were after, but also to supplement Abbi's wardrobe. He wasn't foolish enough to think that plying her with gifts would completely eradicate the tension between them. But he could only hope that it would be well received as the peace offering it was intended to be. If the clothes didn't work, then perhaps the jewelry would.

His mind returned to the vision he'd entertained only two nights before, of Abbi wearing nothing but a suite of sapphires and diamonds. He could easily imagine her wearing pearls, as well. He wanted to see her lying back on the scarlet silk that graced the bed at his townhouse. In his fantasy, she wore nothing, her glorious dark hair spread around her, a strand of l.u.s.trous pearls at her neck with a soft smile curving her lips.

Michael s.h.i.+fted on the seat of the carriage, the nature of his thoughts adding to the general discomfort and misery of travel. Sarah was riding in the second coach with the luggage, and he and Abbi were alone in the carriage. He wanted nothing more than to pull her to him, to rekindle the pa.s.sion that had flared so sweetly between them before their disastrous trip to Whitby Hall and all that had transpired.

Her mood had been strangely introspective since their departure the previous morning. He could only a.s.sume that it had something to do with her conversation with Caroline. Given the circ.u.mstances, he decided it would be for the best to live with his curiosity.

"We should arrive in London sometime tomorrow afternoon," he said companionably.

"I've never been. When it was time for my come out, Lavinia's mother became ill and then shortly after that, my father. They both pa.s.sed away within the year, and the following year, when it would have been appropriate to go, Lord Allerton said there was no money for such frivolities. All the while he was gaming and-well, doing what so many gentlemen about town do. It appeared there was a great deal of money for frivolity for him. Meanwhile, I had to sell off the tapestries and rugs just to keep us all fed."

It made him angry. He knew that he had never been a paragon of virtue, but he could not imagine that he would ever have allowed a woman in his care to live so meanly. "You will have funds to see you through, Abbi. I intend while we are in town, to have an account set up for you to ensure that you will never have to be at anyone's mercy again."

"That is hardly necessary, my lord. You needn't make such an effort on my part."

"I do need to, actually. I want you to feel secure, to have faith in the fact that you will never again be dependent on anyone else for the simple comforts of life."

She didn't quite know how to respond to that. He continued to confuse her, with his callousness of her feelings on the one hand and his incredible generosity and tenderness on the other. "Thank you, Michael."

It was the first time she had called him something other than 'my lord' since they had left Whitby Hall. He didn't imagine that it was related to the money, but he was grateful that he had managed to do something right, even if he wasn't sure precisely what it was. "We'll also be staying in London long enough to give you an opportunity to expand your wardrobe. I want to see you in something that doesn't look like it was made for you at the age of eighteen."

Abbi laughed, "Interestingly enough, most of the gowns I currently have were created for me at the age of eighteen."

"Since you've never been to London before, perhaps we can find time for some of the entertainments it has to offer. Is there anything in particular that you would like to see?"

She blushed a bit, then said with complete honesty, "I want to see the Elgin Marbles. I know they are considered to be somewhat inappropriate for ladies, but I have always wanted to see them."

He smiled, thinking that the Elgin Marbles, with their sensual draping and the elegantly carved figures, would work into his plans very well. While not overtly carnal, the sensuality of them would not be lost on Abbi. "I think that could probably be arranged... Perhaps a private showing after the museum closes?"

"You can do that?"

"Most definitely," he said. "In the meantime, it is a very long and tedious trip to London."

The tone of his voice was a clear indication of what part of his anatomy was presently in charge of his thinking. In spite of her confusion, she was not immune. But not wanting to give the appearance of capitulating too easily, she said, "Perhaps you should have a rest then, a nice long nap to pa.s.s the time?"

Michael laughed, and even as he chuckled, he reached for her hand and pulled her across the span of the seats to sprawl across his lap. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s were crushed intimately against his chest, and where his thigh had slipped between hers, her gown had bunched around her knees, freeing her stocking clad calves to his roaming fingers.

He kissed her, his lips playing hers in a sensual, rhythmic dance that left them both breathless and panting. Through the fabric of her traveling gown, he cupped the lush globes of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, relis.h.i.+ng the weight of that tender flesh against his palms. His lips blazed a path over her neck, his tongue dipping into the hollow of her throat, making her s.h.i.+ver. Her neck arched, her head falling back and his teeth sc.r.a.ped gently over the delicate column of her throat. A gasp turned into a soft moan, and he took her mouth again, greedy for the taste of her sweet lips and the slide of her tongue against his own.

Within minutes, he had the bodice of her dress tugged down, revealing the rosy peaks of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s to him. Her gown had been pushed up to her waist, and the lush bottom that had so tantalized him was clasped firmly in his hands. He was hard and aching, wanting desperately to be inside her. As she moaned against his mouth, he knew that she felt the same. He repositioned her, so that she straddled him, her thighs cradling his rigid erection.

Abbi gasped at the intimacy of the new position. His hands and mouth had driven her into a frenzy. They hadn't made love since their return from Lavinia's ambush. Everything that had happened at Whitby Hall had effectively halted that particular aspect of their relations.h.i.+p. Though it was still far from resolved, in spite of what Lady Westerbrook had said to her, Abbi was still filled with doubts. Those doubts fled her mind, along with all over rational thought, when he flexed against her, pressing the hard ridge of his s.e.x against her opening. His breeches could not conceal the hardness and heat of him. Even at that thought, he slid one hand between them and began to caress her damp flesh.

Abbi grasped his shoulders, needing something solid to cling to as the storm built inside her. Every stroke of his masterful fingers had her gasping and crying out, pressing more firmly against him, her hips moving rhythmically with the pace he had set. The pleasure deepened as did the desire for more, until she ached with it, needing more. She wanted to feel him inside her.

Reaching down with fingers that trembled, she freed the b.u.t.tons of his breeches until he sprang forth, hot and hard. She had never touched him there, and now, as her hands moved over him, she marveled at the silken feel of him. She couldn't stop the smile that escaped her at his guttural groan.

Seeing that siren's smile on her face was almost as torturous as the feel of her soft hands stroking his hardened s.e.x. "Minx," he said. He gripped her bottom, lifting her higher until he was poised at her entrance. Some part of him realized that taking his wife, who was newly initiated into such physical intimacies, in a moving carriage was wrong on numerous levels, but he couldn't quite bring himself to care. "Take me inside you," he said.

"How?" she asked, the eagerness in her voice was not lost on him.

"Use your hand, guide me into you," he instructed and bit back a groan as she did just that. With the head of his c.o.c.k between the slick folds, he lowered her slowly, gently, spearing deeply inside her. The heat, the tight clench of her around him, was a pleasure unlike anything he could ever recall. A curse hissed from between his lips and his clenched teeth.

Abbi gasped at the feel of him so deeply inside her. Her bottom rested on his thighs, and every rock and lurch of the carriage created a wealth of sensations that threatened to overwhelm her. When he moved, flexing his hips, angling her so that he pressed against that sensitive bud that sent her spiraling toward the precipice, she cried out his name. Experimentally, she tightened, flexing her own hips and his fingers on her hips tightened, gripping almost painfully. He began a rhythm, flexing into her, deepening the contact, and she countered by tightening around him, ratcheting the pleasure for both of them.

It did not take long. In only a few strokes, he felt her belly quivering and the tell-tale tremble of her thighs. He closed his mouth over hers, swallowing the keening cry as her release took her. He flexed again, feeling her inner muscles rippling around him, and his release followed. He groaned as he pumped inside her, spilling himself into her welcoming heat.

Minutes later, she was still sprawled across his lap, their clothing askew and their breathing still ragged. "Abbi," he said, her name a breathless whisper, "You are going to be the death of me."

"It's only fair," she said, her voice m.u.f.fled against his chest, "For you've left me worthless as the dead. I can't move."

That was perfectly fine with him. He enjoyed the feel of her against him, and though he had gone lax inside her, if she stayed where she was, it wouldn't be long until the feel of her would rouse him again. "Then by all means, remain where you are."

The following afternoon, after a night at a less than hospitable inn, they arrived in London. The trip had served to ease the tension between them. On the surface at least, both Abbi and Michael had returned to providing the appearance of newly wedded bliss.

When Abbi saw their London home, it was all she could not to gape like the country la.s.s she was. She did refrain but only because she felt that it would be bad form as the new viscountess to be seen looking like such a simpleton. Still, the marble floors, intricate gilded moldings, priceless art and antiques all left her feeling very much out of her element. The servants were too numerous for her to recall even, but she did try. If there was any consolation, it was the fact that poor Sarah was immediately welcomed into the fold and coddled by the other servants. Abbi knew that there was undoubtedly a story there, but she didn't know what it was.

Michael informed her that they would be dining with his friends that evening, a fact that left her feeling as unsettled as the grandeur of the house did. She felt, overwhelmed by it all. As she was ushered upstairs to her new chamber for a bath, while Michael retreated to his study to handle the correspondence that had acc.u.mulated in his absence. Abbi wondered if she would ever truly be able to grasp the running of so grand a house.

Her new chambers were no less opulent than the rest of the house. The rosewood furnis.h.i.+ngs were lovely and feminine, but not overly delicate. The bed was hung with rich silk in peac.o.c.k shades, with matching drapes at the windows. The walls were papered in gold brocade, and an Aubusson rug covered the majority of the parquet floor which had been polished until it shone. Sarah was present, placing Abbi's meager clothing into a large armoire which had likely never held such pitiful contents.