“How would you like to proceed with arrangements for the ball?
Would you wish me to help?”
“It is your affair.” Lady Graywood shrugged. “You may make the arrangements if you wish.”
Faith appreciated having something to do when stressed. In truth, the disruption after Waterloo had taken her attention from her husband’s death enough to give her breathing space to get over the initial shock. She had mourned him truly, but only after she’d escaped Cockfosters and his men, and found a safe place. For that reason she didn’t want Lady Graywood to give up her plans.
However much her ladyship might conceal her grief, Faith refused to believe her sons’ deaths had not affected her. “I have arranged smaller functions of course, but I have no idea how to go on with larger, more fashionable gatherings.” A hint that she could disgrace the family by her inexperience, plus a touch of deference. It should work.
She received a gracious nod in response. “If you desire, I can draw up most of the plans and let you know how they are progressing.”
“I wouldn’t want to put you out, Lady Graywood,” she said, one Lady Graywood to another, at least in the eyes of the world, if not in fact.
“Not at all.”
So polite, she wanted to stand up and scream and swear, just to break this fraught gentility. “I truly appreciate your help.”
“The family cannot disappear.” For an instant, a brief brush of time, Faith saw Lady Graywood’s eyes turn bleak, her mouth lose its firm line. Then she was back, the dowager she recognised. But that moment gave Faith an insight, one she hadn’t had before.
Lady Graywood had lived in an age of rigid self-control, when people were expected to keep their social calm above everything. At this level of society they were avidly watched, reported on, drawn in vile caricatures. She’d grown up with that knowledge, had learned from childhood up to hold that mask of indifference up to society.
Now she did it everywhere, even with her family.
Faith couldn’t hope to emulate her, nor did she wish to, but that brief insight had taught her that a real woman existed under the severe exterior. She might never know what the dowager honestly felt, but she understood that the older woman felt something. It made a difference. She couldn’t imagine what kind of life that would be but if she stayed, that might become her fate.
After the meal she said she was tired, that she wanted to rest, more to give the dowager an opportunity to retire than anything else.
Chapter Eleven
Upstairs, Turvey was still busy in Faith’s room, so John offered her the use of his bed. With a knowing smile. Why she assumed he’d leave her to rest she wasn’t sure. Instead, he followed her into the room, closed the door gently behind him and took her into his arms before he delivered the kind of kiss he hadn’t given her for days. He slanted his mouth across hers, held her face in his hands to keep her in the position to receive him and tenderly delved deep. His hands slid down her throat, caressing the sensitive skin and then around her waist to draw her close. She rested her head on his shoulder and kissed him back, tasting that flavour of coffee and John. She’d never forget it if she lived to a hundred.
He broke away to smile at her then kissed her again, slowly and thoroughly, pushing his tongue into her mouth and licking, then thrusting, imitating the act of love. Her body came alive, tingled where he touched her, the sensations spreading through her whole body.
Finishing with a few short, sweet kisses, as if he couldn’t bear to leave, he pressed his forehead against hers. “I had meant to leave you alone until you invited me back into your bed. I can’t. You are so sweet, so unbearably sensual. I need you all the time. How can this be?”
Breathlessly, not just from the kisses, she gazed up into his dark eyes. “It is, that’s all. I need you too. I’m not supposed to say that, am I?”
“Why not? Why shouldn’t you desire me the same way I desire you? What’s wrong with a wedded couple seeking each other’s company, especially after a gap of nearly two years?”
Her heart plummeted. “Because it’s not true, is it? We’re not married, not in truth.”
“It could be. It is. I did think of you when I had no right to, when you belonged to another man. Just because I couldn’t call you mine, that doesn’t mean that in the dead of night, at my heart, I didn’t think of you. Want you.” He gave a rueful smile. “I did. That part is as true as God.”
Mildly shocked, she tried to protest. “You shouldn’t blaspheme.”
“How did I do that? I need you, Faith. Why shouldn’t I say what I was feeling when I had no rights over you? I knew a brave, forthright woman who hasn’t changed at heart, merely grown more beautiful.”
She couldn’t believe that. She’d never appeared more than ordinary. Even when Turvey had dressed her, she’d gained a little polish, not suddenly emerged as a swan. It had never worried her before. She liked ducklings.
But the expression in his eyes—that said she was beautiful. So did his kiss, when he ravaged her like a man starved. As sensual as he’d been a moment before, now he took her as if he could do nothing else. He spread his hands over her, smoothed them down her body, over the curve of her hip and around to her backside, using his hold to cinch her close.
His erection pushed into her as if no layers of cloth lay between them. Hot, insistent, along with its owner. He broke the kiss to murmur, “I want you,” into her mouth, the words heating her tongue, her throat. Then he kissed her again, pressed her against the door. Just as she was lifting her legs to wind them around his waist, get as close to him as she could, he stopped. He fumbled for her hand and led her to the bed.
His eyes appeared as dark as she’d ever seen them, his lips damp, his mouth fuller than usual and slightly open. Glancing down her, he turned her around and gave a slight exhalation of relief when he found the fastenings to her gown. Her bodice sagged forward as he undid them. She didn’t try to keep it up but let it fall when it loosened enough for her to do so. She unfastened the buttons holding the sleeves tight to her wrists so she could slip it off. She heard the low curse when he couldn’t immediately unfasten the bow on her stays and she chuckled. “New maid, new knot,” she murmured.
“Tell her to use the old one. It was easier.”
He didn’t sound pleased, but she knew she hadn’t cause his displeasure. Impatience made him clumsy. He got the stays off then attacked her petticoats, which he managed with more proficiency.
That delighted her, since she was growing impatient too. She kicked the petticoats aside and bent to attend to her boots and stockings, pointing her bottom at him in a deliberately provocative gesture.
In response, he stepped forward, pressed his body against hers and then put his hand on her back, pressing her down, preventing her from straightening. “Stay there,” he said. “I want you like this.”
Cool air struck the backs of her legs when he raised her shift, and she knew he’d exposed her to his stare. She felt his attention like a living thing, avidly hot.
A moment when she pulled the bows loose from her boots, but she didn’t have time to take them off before he returned. This time his bare groin rubbed against her, the hair softly pressing against her naked skin. “Oh, John,” she murmured. “Oh that feels so good.”
“Open your legs.”
He’d have to bend his knees to reach her, since he was taller than she. But if she touched the floor and pressed against it, she could angle her backside so it tilted up. When she did as he bade her he could see her, how wet she was, and she couldn’t rub her thighs together for some small measure of relief.