Where Destiny Plays, page 22
God, he felt awful for using Lavinia. But it was the arrangement they had made and this culmination of their studies would have happened eventually. Just because it was happening tonight when his cock strained inside his trousers for his unnamed goddess didn’t make it somehow more despicable. Besides, it was probably best he hadn’t fallen in love with Lavinia, as he had feared he might. They would have sex, he would know what it was all about, then he wouldn’t bother her again.
He’d have to return all her books…
All right…maybe he’d want to see her again after tonight.
He glanced at the clock. Had it been fifteen minutes? Of course it had.
He took the stairs two-by-two. The door to her bedroom stood slightly ajar. He stepped inside.
“Close the door, William, and lock it.”
She was in her bed, the sheet drawn up over her breasts, her shoulders bare, the soft glow of an oil lamp on her bedside table creating a seductive mood.
He swallowed and locked the door.
“Take off your clothes and join me.”
He did as she bid, laying his clothes on an overstuffed chair, embarrassed when he removed the binding fashioned from an old cravat and hunter’s rifle sling to rein in his unruly cock. And when he stood naked in the middle of her bedroom, his stiffness jutting enthusiastically before him, she opened the covers in invitation and he slid beside her.
God, she was warmth and fragrance and softness. He knew what to do, had done most of it already. He pulled her to him, taking her in a deep kiss, smoothing his palms down her back, cupping her butt. She stretched one leg over his thigh, leaving herself open to him. His cock poked insistently at her quim.
She wrapped her hand around his erection. “William, it is always correct to pleasure the woman first before you proceed.”
Abashment prickled the back of his neck. “Yes, of course, my lady.”
He pressed her onto her back, curving over her to suck the puckered nipple of a luscious breast. The other he kneaded, letting the hardened peak slide between two fingers before closing, pinching hard. She arched under him with a moan, a delicious sight to behold.
His cock rubbed against her thigh, reminding him of his eager state. He drew his hand over her curves to the hair between her legs. He slipped a finger through her sex. She was wet. She wanted this too. That was why a man pleasured a woman first, so she would want him.
His cock twitched a complaint.
He rubbed her clit slowly, watching her face soften as a lubricious sensuality descended. He crushed harder, wanting to take her to her climax. She deserved such attention to be so gracious in accommodating him with no warning on his part.
She closed her eyes, whispering encouraging words, moaning affirmations as he took her to the edge, puffing ragged breaths as he held her at the brink, groaning a soft cry when she fell into oblivion.
He moved over her, urging her thighs apart with his knees. She held his gaze as he positioned himself, licked her lower lip when he found his mark. She nodded.
He thrust in. The shock of ultimate pleasure sparked every nerve in his body.
“Oh God, Lavinia.”
He couldn’t have imagined this, had no idea what to expect really, but it certainly wasn’t this. Pleasure focused at the head of his cock, surrounded the shaft yet bathed his entire body. Jolts of joy spiked his toes.
“Move in and out, darling.”
Her voice startled him. He stared at her, her expression pleading.
“Yes.” He rocked his hips, pushing in farther, pulling out.
The pleasure was increased a hundredfold. If that were even possible.
She moved with him, undulating her hips in a devilish manner, taking him faster down the path toward euphoria. His energy coiled within, focusing around his groin. He slammed into her, needing release, sweat beading on his forehead from the exertions.
And then he was there, climbing the mountain of sensuality, reaching the peak, slamming into her one last time, jetting his come inside her in a glorious explosion.
“Oh God!”
He held himself aloft as he emptied his body of its seed, sure he spewed more than he ever had before.
He weakened and sank on top of her, his heart thudding in his throat.
She smoothed his hair. “And was it everything you imagined?”
He laughed. “It was beyond anything I could have ever imagined.”
“Good.” She nudged him off her then snuggled under his arm. “Get some rest. You’ll have to leave before morning light.”
“Thank you, my lady.” He kissed the top of her head. “Thank you.” His lids fluttered closed. He hadn’t expected to be so exhausted.
* * * * *
Lavinia stared at the satiated expression on the naked eighteen-year-old dozing in bed at her side. William should have left long ago but it was such a treat to have a man sleeping next to her that she did not have the heart to send him away.
He had satisfied her and he was ready to satisfy another. For surely there was another. A young man does not visit the house of an older woman after a night of dancing unless a young lady had provoked his interest.
“William.”
He opened his eyes drowsily, confusion from the unfamiliar setting dispersing quickly. “Lavinia? Is it morning?”
“It’s not yet dawn. You should leave.”
He livened at that. “Yes, of course.” He staggered from the bed as if his legs were unaccustomed to his body weighty with satiation.
She watched as he dressed, slowly concealing his athletic body from her gaze. He did not bother binding his groin. There would be no more female temptations that morning.
She got up and wrapped her dressing robe around her. “I’ll show you to the servants’ door. It would be best if you left from there and not the front entrance.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed him.
“This was magnificent, Lavinia.”
She smiled and squeezed his hand. Whether they would ever do the act again she couldn’t say. But they each got what they needed from the union.
She had imagined Arthur every moment in his arms.
* * * * *
Arthur stared into his brandy, its luscious golden-brown reminiscent of the color of her hair, her eyes, a dress she once wore…
He looked up. A handful of members sat scattered in pairs around the drawing room of his club, men who had gone to the theater then dinner and were not asked to continue the evening with whatever woman had accompanied them, mistress or otherwise.
So what the hell was he doing drinking at his club at four in the morning?
Her. It was because of her. He hated being home alone when he got this way.
This is what he’d become. A lonely curmudgeon, finding solace in liquor. Why the hell couldn’t he just choose one of the lovely young girls his mother introduced him to?
Because he wanted the best. He wanted her. His heart would settle for no less.
He could stand it no longer. He downed his brandy and left the club. He walked. If he saw a cab going his direction, he’d wave. Otherwise the walk in the brisk morning air would do him good.
A cab never came. Before he knew it he was in front of her house. To do what precisely? Go up to her front door and ask to see her? No one knew about them. Her butler would simply shoo him away as another drunken admirer. Best to just go home before he got the courage to make a fool of himself.
He was about to leave when a figure appeared in the shadows of the basement service entrance. A man. A deliveryman? A servant slipping out to see his girl?
Arthur ducked into the shadows of the neighboring stairwell.
The man stood on the pavement and looked around for a moment. He was excessively tall. Probably a footman.
Except he wasn’t dressed like a footman. He was dressed like a gentleman.
Shit. Lavinia had a lover.
The man decided which direction to go and headed straight for Arthur. The light from the street lamp revealed his face.
William Peel.
Shock stabbed up his spine. Christ. Lavinia was bedding William Fucking Peel.
He sagged against the cold concrete as the click of William’s shoes faded into the distance.
It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. Not that he really cared about William. Well, he did and if anyone should relieve him of his virginity it should be Lavinia. But if anyone should be with Lavinia right now it should be him, Arthur, and not some kid who didn’t have the strength and intelligence to love and understand her.
He stopped his thoughts. He should not be jealous over William Peel. Lavinia had a reputation for helping young men get established in their careers. Supposedly she was helping him with his Turkish and Hebrew. So what if the boy learned a thing or two about the pleasures of the flesh?
What young Mr. Peel really needed now was to learn about the pleasures of the heart. Arthur smirked.
Luckily he knew precisely which young lady could teach him such a lesson.
Chapter Seventeen
London, June 1880
From his vantage point opposite the Peers’ Corridor, Arthur scanned Parliament’s crowded Octagon Hall looking for Thuxton and Ryburgh. The two were to introduce him around, escort him to the Strangers’ Gallery. But finding two middle-aged men wearing dark frock coats and black tall hats in a sea of middle-aged men wearing dark frock coats and black tall hats was difficult to say the least. He crossed his arms and leaned against a cluster of Gothic columns, the babel of peers and members echoing against the marble and stone. As one of the few men in the central hall not wearing a frock coat, most likely the earls would eventually spot him.
And then the figure of an exquisite, statuesque woman came into view. Arthur smiled.
He rarely had the chance to observe Lavinia of late and here she was in her element. She beamed and laughed in the presence of the two earls, the three of them forming an easy association. She conveyed a confidence he’d not seen before with a casual, friendly air not tinged by the hauteur she often projected in the ballroom.
She was stunning in a reddish-brown walking costume, pleated underskirts of brick red peeking out beneath the draped and fringed edges of her dress, her tulle veil pulled back to frame her face.
Joseph and Nicholas approached from St. Stephen’s Hall and Lavinia waved them over. Ryburgh gripped Nicholas’ hand and Thuxton grabbed his shoulder while Nicholas shook his head and blushed. They would be inquiring about Helena who, from Nicholas’ presence in the hall, clearly had not yet given birth. Lavinia smiled and let Joseph kiss her hand as he eyed her with something akin to a leer.
Arthur laughed to himself. Joseph had finally succumbed to Lavinia’s charms. It was about damn time.
Then Joseph and Thuxton stepped aside to have a private conversation. Probably business. Despite the size of his investments in Harwell Phillips, the earl never insisted on becoming a partner in the firm. But it was in the company’s best interest to keep him apprised of any news—whether good, bad, or none.
Lavinia surveyed the hall, looking for someone. Looking for him, he hoped.
She caught his eye and recognition subtly changed her demeanor. Her expression softened from amused confidence to satisfied anticipation. That she wanted to see him was thrilling. He walked over to the group, holding himself back from running to her. Upon his approach, her smile broadened.
He bowed over her extended hand. “Lady Foxley-Graham. A pleasure.”
“Lord Petersham. The pleasure is all mine.”
Not all of it. He tickled her palm before releasing her. She glanced away with a slight blush.
Thuxton clapped him on the back. “Petersham, welcome to the halls of power.”
Ryburgh made a sweeping gesture. “One day all this will be yours.”
“Not for another decade I’m sure.” Arthur chuckled.
“And how is Richmond?” Ryburgh asked with genuine concern.
“He’s faring quite well. His grandson-in-law made sure of that.”
Nicholas appeared abashed.
“In fact,” added Joseph, “I do believe Lord Richmond is having tea with the queen.”
Both Arthur and Lavinia stared at him.
“The queen, Mr. Phillips?” she asked. “Queen Victoria?”
“Yes, my lady, that queen.”
“Well then, Petersham, looks as if you won’t be officially joining us for quite some time,” said Ryburgh.
“God only knows what party will be in power. We Liberals have been sitting on the Government benches only since April,” said Thuxton.
Ryburgh thoughtfully turned his hat by the brim. “What’s the order of business for today, Thuxton?”
“Heavens,” Thuxton said with feigned surprise. “I thought you would know. I just show up for appearances’ sake.”
Lavinia laughed. “Is there nothing shocking for Lord Petersham to look forward to?”
“Hmm.” Thuxton thumped the top of his tall hat. “Perhaps there will be debate about legalizing marriage with a deceased wife’s sister.”
Joseph started at that. “You’re joking.”
“Oh no, Mr. Phillips.” Ryburgh smirked. “I assure you it is up for debate this session. Very controversial you know. Incest and all that.”
“Incest?” Joseph snorted in amusement. “If my wife had a sister, she’d be as beautiful as my wife. Why shouldn’t I be able to marry her if I were a lonely widower? She’s not my sister.” He snorted. “My wife is lucky she only has a brother.” Joseph winked at Arthur.
Arthur flushed but quickly recovered. Of course no one would suspect he and Joseph were lovers. Why would they? An affair between two men was far more damnable than pseudo-incest. Parliament would never argue such a notion.
Ryburgh waved his hat in Arthur’s direction. “Aren’t you going to defend the honor of your hypothetical sister, Petersham?”
“My family is rather handsome,” Arthur quipped. “I believe Phillips has a point.”
Lavinia pressed her gloved fingers over her lips quavering with amusement.
“It’s such progressive notions that won you the revolution, eh, Phillips?” Thuxton grinned. “We should import more of your kind to help us extinguish our antiquated ways.”
“Look, all I’m saying is a man should be able to marry whom he wants without an act of Parliament.”
“I hope young St. Albans here is ready to defend his father-in-law’s opinions.” Thuxton’s jaw twitched as he pursed his lips. “What say you, my boy, ready to give a speech?”
Nicholas had been gazing absently about the hall in wonder. His eyes widened. “I’m not going to give a speech.” He glanced at the assembled company. “Absolutely not.”
Thuxton patted him on the back. “Just a bit of humor, son.”
Nicholas flushed with obvious relief.
Ryburgh gestured toward the Peers’ Corridor. “Shall we?”
“I’ll watch for an hour or two,” Arthur said. “I’m escorting Lady Richmond to the Raeburn ball tonight.”
“Oh, my dear Petersham,” Thuxton began, “you’ll soon get used to ruling the country and dancing in the ballroom on the same night. We never sit for very long.”
“Of course Lady Richmond is not to be denied,” said Ryburgh. “My daughter will be there as well—”
Arthur glanced at Lavinia. She looked away.
“Save a dance for her, won’t you, my lord?” Ryburgh practically pleaded. “She’ll need respite from all the overly obsequious young men.”
Arthur nodded. So Ryburgh had no inkling of his being considered for his daughter. That made it a damn sight easier to steer her toward suitors her own age.
“Well, gentlemen,” Lavinia said with a flick of her wrist. “I shall see some of you later this evening and others of you tonight at the Raeburnses’.”
Arthur tried not to appear disappointed. “Are women not allowed?”
Thuxton chuckled. “Lady Foxley-Graham has a standing invitation from a number of peers to sit in the Ladies’ Gallery in Lords.”
“However,” she said, “today I shall be observing the House of Commons from the Ladies’ Gallery there.” She held out her hand to Arthur. “I’ll see you tonight. You can tell me all about your impression of Lords.”
Then they would have a conversation about something other than their physical urges.
“I’ll escort you, my lady.” Joseph held out his arm. “I think I should like to immerse myself amongst the commoners before I join Petersham.”
Lavinia smiled and wrapped her arm around Joseph’s. They nodded their good-days and headed down the Commons Corridor.
Arthur watched her leave, frustration mingling with disappointment. He needed her by his side, although, of course, she’d not actually be by his side in the Strangers’ Gallery, she’d be with other women in their own seats.
And as he walked the corridor toward the Lords Chamber, the growls and guffaws of men surrounded him. What a foolish thing to segregate the sexes when the female was as knowledgeable and as powerful as the male. Perhaps he should defy his father once again and take up the cause of women’s rights.
* * * * *
The open seating of the Ladies’ Gallery in the House of Lords was far preferable to the gilt cage of the Ladies’ Gallery in Commons. But Lavinia did not have the stamina to sit in the same room as Arthur at the moment even if it was with a hundred other people. She sat and watched the debate on the Commons floor through the metal grille, the drone of male voices drifting up to be barely heard in the gallery. The thick, humid air and the darkness were distractions from her despondency. Or perhaps the setting only exacerbated her melancholia.
She hadn’t realized how affecting it would be seeing Arthur in the Palace of Westminster. His brown and green-checked waistcoat brought out the similar colors in his eyes, his jocular banter and cool demeanor proved he was right at home with his fellow peers.
She had wanted to tear the damn waistcoat off and make love to him on the marble floor while he stared up at the ornate vaulted ceiling.
She stood and wandered to the back of the small room, removing her hat and gloves, finding momentary relief from the heat. Many of the women had already left, probably due to the horrid conditions under which they were forced to watch their government act. The debate was on ways and means with a litany of proposed levies, probably not enough to maintain a woman’s undivided attention. Lavinia drew in an inhalation from whatever air there was. Upon her exhale two more women left arm-in-arm, heads together in private conversation.
