The Folly at Falconbridge Hall (10 page)

Vanessa burrowed amongst her purchases spread out over her bed. “Of course, you must also wear a new dress.” She held out a cream embroidered toile. “You should dress with a touch of blue, Blythe. Look, the blue stitching matches your eyes.”

Blythe held it against herself in front of the mirror, making Vanessa smile. She imagined how she would be when grown into a lovely young woman. She prayed she would be here to see it.

Blythe spun around. “What shall I call you? Miss Ashley doesn’t seem right.”

“What would you like to call me?”

A shadow passed across Blythe’s eyes. “Not mother.”

“Why not Nessa? My mother used to call me that.”

“Nessa? Yes, I like that.”

When Blythe returned to the nursery, Vanessa examined the new underwear. Nightdresses and undergarments trimmed with embroidery and ribbons, two petticoats, a pale blue wrapper, and a very fetching corset with roses on the panels trimmed with black lace. At the thought of wearing them in front of Julian, she flushed and a wave of panic caused heat to rush to her face. But then another anguished thought tightened her throat. Would he be interested enough to notice?

*****

Vanessa stood beside Julian at the Registry Office on King’s Road, Chelsea. A dry, dusty kind of place to be married. She didn’t mind really, although it was hard to summon the appropriate spiritual feeling and therefore the sense of legitimacy in the eyes of God that one would gain from standing before an altar with a vicar presiding. Blythe, enchanting in her new dress, held Vanessa’s bouquet of lily of the valley, myrtle, and hothouse orange blossoms, a surprise gift from her husband-to-be. Behind them stood Julian’s friends and partners in the expedition, accompanied by their well-dressed wives. It was the first time Vanessa had met the fearfully elegant Lord and Lady Forster and Mr. and Mrs. Hewson Watmore.

As their wedding vows were made, the whole affair took on the semblance of a dream. Vanessa concentrated on her handsome husband, dressed in a grey suit with a silk damask waistcoat and striped cravat. He turned to hand his grey silk top hat to Mr. Watmore then took hold of her hand and, at a prompt from the registrar, slipped a gold wedding band on her finger. Her heart thudding, she met his gaze, suspecting he could read her like a book, and worried because her palms were moist.

The touch of his cool lips on hers surprised her. Brief as it was, the kiss set her heart beating wildly, as her thoughts returned to what would happen when they were finally alone.

The bridal party repaired to Claridge’s Hotel. Amid the elegant columns and gilt mirrors, Vanessa leaned back in her chair and sipped champagne. It settled her queasy stomach and made her tense limbs relax. She watched Julian from over the top of her glass, admiring his classical profile. He and Watmore were deep in discussion, something about luggage bearers. Julian had a very determined chin. A frisson of apprehension galloped through her, and she took another large swallow. Watmore was now talking about the medical supplies necessary to treat snakebite and other ailments. Vanessa put down her glass and rose to her feet. Julian jumped up as if he’d just realized she was there.

“I wish to be excused,” she said, flushing.

“Of course. So do I.” Aurelia Forster rose and took her arm. Together, they strolled to the ladies’ retiring room.

The mirror confirmed Vanessa’s worst fears. Her eyes looked like a startled hare’s, and her cheeks were closer to the color of tomatoes than apples.

“This is all a bit sudden, isn’t it?” Lady Forster said sympathy in her grey eyes.

Vanessa swallowed. “Yes. A bit.”

“You have no need to worry.” She turned her attention to the mirror, removing her violet-grey hat to pat her fair hair. “Has your mother prepared you for what to expect from marriage?”

“I’m afraid not.” Vanessa’s breath hitched. “She passed away two years ago.”

“I see.” The older woman met her gaze in the glass. “You are worried about tonight, no doubt. The marriage bed.”

“A little.” Vanessa had many concerns but silently agreed that was definitely the first hurdle to cross. At the thought of Julian as a hurdle, she smothered a nervous giggle. She tugged down a sleeve.

Lady Forster laid a gloved hand on her arm. “You know what happens between a man and woman?”

Vanessa had a fair idea, and that was the trouble. She nodded.

“Good. It might hurt a bit at first,” the lady said in an unruffled tone. “But it will all be over in a few minutes.” She shrugged. “Something we women must endure.”

“Endure?” It came out as a croak.

“But husbands give us so much more than a little discomfort now and then, do they not?” her ladyship replied. “Are you ready to return to the party?”

Vanessa followed Lady Forster’s wide grey chiffon-covered hips across the room. She chewed the inside of her cheek, aware her concerns had deepened. Blythe raised her head from a dish of ice cream to watch her. Before they went in to dinner, the nursery maid would take her home. Vanessa painted a smile on her face. If only she could have convinced Julian to wait until his return to consummate the marriage. She wondered if she might still be able to do so. The men stood as she and Lady Forster approached the table. Julian helped Vanessa with her chair then turned back to his friend again. She grew confident he had little interest in such things.

After an elegant repast of Galantine de veau and lobster, Vanessa and Julian left their guests and returned to Falconbridge Hall. It drew a laugh from Vanessa to see slippers tied to the back of the carriage.

“It means that you are now your husband’s possession.” A humorous spark lit Julian’s eyes.

“How old fashioned and quaint,” Vanessa said with a moue.

He raised a brow at her effrontery. “I’m beginning to wonder how much like your mother you are.”

“We shall have to see,” Vanessa said with a smile. She wasn’t sure herself. She’d always had so little power; just making her way in life had been her main objective. It occurred to her that she was now in the position to try to make a difference in other women’s lives. It was a heady thought. “Would you mind if I was?”

A smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “We shall have to see.”

The household staff waited to greet them and offer their felicitations decked out in their wedding favors—silver leaves and acorns for the men and a sprig of orange blossom and white ribbons for the ladies.

Vanessa longed to speak to Julian privately, but they were whisked off to the servants’ hall for a piece of wedding cake and a celebratory glass of wine. After that, she left Julian discussing the finer points of pugilism with Johnson and retired upstairs, wishing to see Blythe.

The child was almost asleep, a lamp casting soft shadows over the walls.

“Hello, Nessa.” She yawned. “I waited for you.”

Vanessa perched on the edge of the bed. “Hello, sleepy-head. Did you enjoy today?”

“Oh yes. I liked the ice cream, ’specially.”

“That’s good.” Vanessa tucked wisps of black hair back from Blythe’s brow. “And have you said your prayers?”

“Yes. I prayed Father would return safely. And I prayed for you too.”

“Thank you for adding me to your prayers.” She bent and kissed her forehead. “I always put you in mine. I wish you sweet dreams.”

“Night, Nessa.”

She was halfway to the door when Blythe called to her. “Are you my mother now, Nessa?”

Her breath caught in her throat at the urgent plea. She turned. “I’d like to be.”

“And you won’t leave me?”

She approached the bed and gazed down at the pale little face, almost lost against the lace edged pillow. “No, sweetheart. I won’t leave you.”

“Good.” Blythe closed her eyes.

Blythe’s breathing grew deeper. Vanessa crossed quietly to the door, and the child was asleep before she opened it.

“God Bless,” Vanessa murmured. Hurrying down the passage, she fingered the butterfly brooch on her dress, hoping she would be able to keep her promise. She would never leave Blythe voluntarily.

She opened the door to her new room. It was next door to Julian’s, but she had yet to see it.

The empty bedroom was shadowy with only the bedside lamps alight. It loomed around her, elegant and airy, dominated by a tester bed covered in a burgundy silk coverlet. Vanessa had trouble drawing her eyes away. She and Julian … She spun away. Her feet sank in to the soft, ruby red Oriental rug. Deep red silk damask curtains edged with gold fringe dressed the tall windows. In the fireplace at its far end, where two chairs were drawn up in conversational mode, the logs glowed and crackled cozily in the grate, turning the embossed striped wallpaper a warm gold. Her few possessions had been brought down from the attic bedroom. Her mother’s likeness sat on the dresser, and her books had been stacked on a table by the fireplace.

She sucked in an anxious breath at Julian’s midnight blue paisley silk robe lying over a chair. She picked it up and held it to her nose. It smelled of sandalwood. She remembered his kiss at the wedding ceremony, and her stomach clenched. His lips had been almost impersonal, and he’d hardly touched her since. It was to be expected she supposed, when they weren’t in love, although she couldn’t tamp down a wish for some sign of passion. Her nightgown and the matching peignoir were neatly arranged on the coverlet, virginal white lawn, decorated with pink satin ribbon threaded through the lace. A knock came at the door. “Come in.” She held the gown against her chest as if she was already naked.

The maid entered. “Do you require assistance to undress or with your hair, my lady?”

Vanessa had got this far in life without assistance. She didn’t think she would need it now. “No, thank you, Mary,” she told her new maid. “You may go to bed.”

The door closed again.

“My lady,” Vanessa said softly to herself. How strange that sounded. She would have to get used to Mary helping her dress, she decided. It would be unkind of her not to. To live like a viscountess seemed an enormous undertaking. She opened the door leading to the bathroom. In the bathroom mirror, her eyes looked enormous and distracted her face pale. She was used to her face and no judge if it was attractive. She brushed out her hair which couldn’t be called red, or blonde for that matter, and wasn’t particularly fashionable, and her green eyes weren’t a fascinating emerald green like Clara’s. Her woeful nose would never be heralded as a feature of great beauty. She liked her mouth though, it was generous and full-lipped, she only hoped her new husband would.

When she came out wearing her nightgown, she found Julian waiting. He had removed his cravat and coat and sat in a chair in his shirtsleeves. “Ah. Here you are.”

Heart thudding, Vanessa crossed the room on trembling legs.

He approached her and took her hands. “How pretty you look,” he said, sounding surprised. “I’ve never seen you with your hair hanging down past your shoulders.”

She couldn’t meet his gaze and fiddled with the ribbons on her nightgown.

Leading her over to the bed, he drew her down and sat beside her. He tipped up her chin with the heel of his hand, bringing her gaze on a level with his. “I hope you will be happy and secure here in my absence.”

Vanessa stared into the blue depths, searching for reassurance. She dragged in a breath. “I’m sure I will … .”

He glanced down to where her breasts heaved beneath the thin lawn. “I won’t leave you carrying my child. I promise not to do that to you.”

“You sound as if you have doubts that you’ll return.” Forgetting her own concerns completely, she searched his troubled face. Might that be what lay behind this? The thought struck cold fear in her.

He shrugged and stood to unbutton his shirt. “It’s a dangerous undertaking. Every venture into the Amazon carries risk.”

She had to accept it and was determined not to utter one word of complaint or pleading. A strong urge took hold of her to hold him, to soothe him and allow him to go with a clear mind, at least about those he left behind, but she wasn’t sure he’d welcome it. “We shall be all right. You mustn’t worry.”

“Thank you for that.” He shrugged off his braces and shirt and began to undo his trousers. The smattering of dark hair on his broad chest captured Vanessa’s gaze. His trousers went the way of his shirt, and he stood in his underwear.

She’d never seen a man in his underwear before, let alone Julian. The scrap of silk hinted at what lay beneath. Her gaze fluttered up to meet his amused one, before he bent his head to continue undressing.

When she realized she’d stopped breathing, she took a deep breath. “I’ll pop into bed, shall I?” she gasped.

He turned from removing his garters to look at her. A grin lightened his face. Vanessa was glad to see it. She gave a tremulous grin in response. Humor was needed for her to get through this. She threw back the covers and climbed into the bed; lying down, she squeezed her eyes shut.

The bed moved.

His breath fanned her cheek. “What are you doing?”

She looked at him. His face was very close to hers. Laughter lurked in his eyes.

“Nothing. Waiting …for you.”

Julian pulled away the blankets that rested under her chin and gazed at her, from her high-necked nightgown down to her toes, which curled with nervous anticipation.

His brows rose into peaks. “Whatever is the matter? I’m not going to hurt you.”

“It’s just that Lady Forster said this is something to be endured,” Vanessa confessed.

He gave a soft laugh. “Poor Lady Forster.”

He began to ease up the hem of her nightgown. “What pretty legs.” When it reached her knees, she grabbed a fistful of lawn, holding it there. She felt as if a rod of iron had been adhered to her spine.

Julian laughed again. “Vanessa, will you relax?”

“I’m trying to, really.” Her lips trembled.

He gave her a long look and shook his head. “What kind of a fellow am I to put you through this?”

Had he changed his mind? She was surprised to find the thought didn’t bring relief.

He lay down beside her. “Come here.” He slid an arm under her shoulders and drew her against him. “Let’s talk for a while, shall we?” Relieved, Vanessa laid a cautious head on his arm. “Tell me about your childhood.”

Memories returned of wet sand scouring her bare feet, the shock of cold wavelets tugging at her ankles, and the sun warm on her back. Her limbs sank into the soft bed as she described her years in Cornwall. Her father came vividly to mind, standing at his easel, paintbrush in hand while she sketched beside him. And her mother, stalking the living room carpet with a speech in her hand and a pencil tucked into her bun. As always, she shut out the later, painful memories.

“Your father didn’t get on with his family?”

“No.” She’d grown used to the knowledge Julian had gained of her family. It didn’t bother her; in fact, in some way, it drew her closer to him and Blythe and made her feel part of a new family. The thought warmed her. “My uncle came to see me after Father died,” she confessed. “He invited me to live with him.”

Julian’s eyes widened. Well, he didn’t know that, she thought smugly, yearning to touch the cleft in his chin.

“You refused?”

“Yes.” She flushed at the incredulity in his voice. Did he think her foolish? Impossible to explain how her formal and stiff uncle made her feel. So obviously holding out a reluctant helping hand to a poor relation. When she declined his offer, had she spied some measure of relief in his eyes, which were so like her father’s? She had never considered herself inferior to anyone until that day.

Julian drew her closer, causing her to hope that perhaps he did understand. Vanessa liked his smell, smoky male and woody cologne. She wanted to rest her cheek on his chest to breathe it in. The thought made her smile and stretch out comfortably beside him.

Her movement stirred him. He leaned over, took her face in his hands, and kissed her, a gentle, friendly kiss she welcomed. She expected him to draw away, but the kiss lengthened. He plunged his tongue into her mouth to touch hers. Shocked, she tensed then gave into it as a tingling warmth spread through her body. Her tongue explored the contours of his mouth as her guard slipped and her shoulders sank back into the mattress.

He looked at her, his eyes darkening to indigo. “Let’s undo this straight jacket, shall we?” he said, his tone husky.

“I thought it lovely,” she protested.

“You may wear it when I’m gone.” He deftly undid the buttons and slipped a hand through to stroke her breast. Finding a nipple, he rolled it gently between his fingers, unleashing a delicious sensation.

When he began to remove her nightgown, Vanessa stilled his hand. “Perhaps you could turn down the lamp.”

The smile returned, lifting the corners of his mouth, but his eyes looked determined. “I want to see you.”

Before she could protest again, her nightgown slipped off. His gaze resting on her body, he threw the garment on the floor.

She lay naked before him, flushing, wanting to pull up the covers. “You’re perfectly lovely, Vanessa.” He sounded as if he’d been handed an unexpected present.

Julian’s obvious pleasure in her made her bolder. He kissed her again, and when Vanessa returned his kisses, they grew more urgent. Their breaths quickened, and her fingers itched to stroke his bare skin.

Lowering his head to her breast, he took a nipple in his mouth. She sighed with delight at the wonderful sensations, stroking his dark hair with her fingers. Her nipples firmed beneath his ministrations and warmth rushed over her skin. He kneaded her breasts gently. In his hands, they grew strangely heavy.

Their rasping breaths filled the room. He pushed away from her to remove the rest of his clothes, and she gasped at the intent in his gaze. As she watched him strip off his underwear, her stomach tightened, and she was captured by the sight of such a fine example of a naked male. Julian must need to keep himself in shape for his work, she thought distractedly, eyeing strong buttocks and thighs, she hadn’t expected to find in a tall, slim man. He returned to the bed well-defined muscles playing beneath smooth skin. She held her breath, gazing at his maleness, so potent and intoxicating. Just the sight of his erection made her hot all over and moist to the core.

His fingers roamed up her leg and tangled in the curls at the apex of her thighs. Startled, she almost sat up. He caressed her there. As he stroked, she stilled with a strange hunger and pushed against him, a moan escaping her lips. She cast aside her qualms and surrendered to the sensations. They moved together as he caressed her, his tongue dancing with hers. She began to tremble on the brink of something elusive.

Julian drew away from her and parted her legs with a knee, settling between her thighs.

His heavy-lidded gaze sought hers and held. “I’ll be gentle.” His voice sounded strange, deeper, his intensity thrilling.

Vanessa took a quick breath as he pushed into her, causing a brief flash of pain. She was so moist it made his passage easier, but the pain made her tense.

“Relax, Vanessa,” he whispered.

Their breaths mingled as his mouth covered hers; his hand at the nape of her neck under her hair pulled her into a deep kiss. She hardly noticed when he slipped a little farther inside her until the tightness became uncomfortable and she tried instinctively to wriggle away. He would have none of it; he cupped her bottom and pushed.

She was distracted by his mouth, teasing and nibbling, and his smooth skin beneath her fingers. He nudged deeper inside her. The pain vanished to be replaced by something extraordinary. A primitive need somehow satisfied. As if she’d been craving it all her life. She raised her hips to move with him, enjoying the weight of his body on hers, and having him deep inside her. It was natural and right to be joined with him in this fascinating dance. Julian moved faster, and they were both gasping, coming together hip-to-hip, grasping, urgent. Her hands were in his hair then dancing across his back, seizing his strong buttocks and relishing the power of muscles moving beneath satiny skin. She murmured his name, one minute wanting to fight the desire building within her, the next begging him to sweep her along.