Chapter 33

In a surprisingly short space of time, the newlyweds found themselves alone in the mansion in York, save for the discreet and admirably trained servants. They had celebrated with their assembled families that first evening, Georgie trying her best to ignore the odiously quizzing looks both Louisa and Miss Spry gave her when they gathered, rather later than had been planned, around the dinner table. Hal and Cassandra left for Skipton the next day; they would remain there, he told her, for at least another few weeks before they returned to London. ‘Do you think I need you nearby?' she asked him half-jokingly as they parted.

‘I don't know if you do, Georgie, but I will be in any case.'

‘My disasters are no longer your concern,' she said, suddenly a little tearful.

‘I hope there will be no more disasters, but if there are, you know where I am.'

They embraced, and Cassandra and Bastian both hugged her too, and whispered, ‘Write to me!' in her ear, and then all three of them were gone.

Louisa and Miss Spry took their departure the next day. Georgie had seized a moment to walk alone in the garden with Jane before their departure, and had asked her what her immediate plans were. ‘Marriage,' she had replied, with a smile that tried for droll and landed instead on uncertain.

‘You are resolved on this course?'

‘I am. We are. We have been in correspondence, Lord Carston and I – there is no longer any need for discretion, I think, for my news will be public soon enough – and he is still of the same mind. I will be married soon, just as soon as it can be arranged.'

Georgie blinked at the news. Lord Carston was very well known to her; he was a close friend of Louisa's, as he had been of her own father. He was Hal's godfather, and hers too, a distinguished widower in his late forties with children grown. A handsome, lazily humorous, infinitely tolerant man. And one with hidden depths, clearly. ‘I… Life is so much more complicated than I thought it was, just a few short months ago,' said Georgie. ‘I see the truth of that more and more with every day that passes. I wish you well.'

‘Thank you. I hope you will stand my friend.'

‘I will. I will be godmother to your child too, if you will have me.'

‘Thank you, Duchess!' said Miss Spry with a wry smile. ‘That is a generous offer, and I am happy to accept it. There will be rumours swirling about us, I dare say – if not at first, then certainly if I do conceive a child, and then go back to live with Louisa, and remain there. It may involve your family in scandal, certainly in gossip, and so I am grateful that you do not mean to distance yourself from us.'

Georgiana laughed with genuine amusement and shook her head. ‘A scandal, and not caused by me! How can I be anything but grateful?'

‘I suppose that is true! But it is kind of you none the less. Perhaps you and I will be mothers together.'

‘Perhaps.'

Jane looked at her shrewdly. ‘Has anyone thought to ask you how you feel about the prospect of motherhood?'

‘Gabriel has. I did not know how to answer him. It seemed theoretical then, whereas now, of course, it is not. Do not think that I am instinctively averse to the idea…'

‘That is just as well!' her companion snorted.

‘I suppose it is. It's just… I feel as though I am changing. I'm not the person I was a month ago. In a month's time, or in six months, I may be different again. I may have a child growing inside me already. I honestly do not know how I feel about that. If I knew, I would tell you.'

‘You are under a great deal of pressure. My situation is different – if I do not conceive, it will matter to nobody in the world but me. Lord Carston, William, does not require an heir from this marriage.' She saw Georgie's face and said quickly, ‘I am sorry! You do not need reminding of your situation, I am sure. That was insensitive of me; please forgive me.'

‘Nonsense. It is no less real merely because we do not speak openly of it. One thing I do know – I want to do this for Gabriel if I can, and not because of some notion of duty. I know how much it means to him. I am sure enough of that.' It was true; she'd come to realise it over the last few days. She would give him everything she was capable of giving, no matter what she might receive in return. And not just her body. She had burnt all her bridges now.

‘I cannot question you. The world is hard enough for women, even women of your class. And more and more I think that it does not matter why people act, or what they say, but only what they actually do to hurt or help each other. Even though things can still go horribly wrong, however well one means by one's actions.'

‘The road to hell is paved with good intentions?'

‘Let us hope not, on this occasion, or we are all bound for ruin.'

Jane stopped her restless pacing and turned to look Georgiana in the eye. ‘I think when we meet again both our situations will be clearer. I hope so. Shall we wish each other good luck?' They embraced, and then it was time to leave, and in any case there seemed nothing more to be said.

Georgie's new sister-in-law Blanche and her children also departed that day; they had formed a plan to visit Harrogate, and perhaps take the waters there. It was obvious that this was the merest pretext to leave the newly-weds alone, but they could not be dissuaded, and it was possible that neither the Duke nor Georgiana tried very hard to change their minds. The trip would also give Lady Blanche, she told the couple, an opportunity to visit the Richmonds, who had now returned to their home, and form some more balanced judgement of how Isabella did when she saw her in a calmer, more familiar setting, free, she hoped, from the effects of the severe shock she had received. ‘I will write and tell you how I find her, and what her mother says if we are able to converse in private,' she said. ‘Do you mean to stay here, or return to the Castle, or…? You could even go abroad, I suppose, if you would care to do so.'

His Grace smiled at his sister. ‘I do not know; we have not had a chance to make any firm plans. I will let you know, of course, Blanche, if we decide to make some change.'

Gabriel was responsive to Georgie's moods in these days, and gentle except on occasions when gentleness was emphatically not required; he seemed to sense that the sudden departure of all her family and his had left her feeling cast adrift. ‘Would you prefer to go away – to Paris, perhaps, or London?' he asked her the next morning as they lay in bed. ‘I can't help thinking that to be entirely alone with me might not be to your taste. There is no earthly reason why it should be, of course.'

It was one of those occasions when Georgie could not read him; if she had been forced to guess, she would have said he seemed subdued, and perhaps a little hurt, but that was ridiculous, of course. He'd given her no reason to believe she held such power over him. She sat up and leaned back against the pillows, trying to formulate her thoughts, for her own sake as much as his. They were not three days married. ‘It's not you, Gabriel, or being alone with you,' she said. ‘The truth is, I am not used to being alone with anyone. I suppose it is only natural – I have five siblings, as you know, and when we are all together there is a bustle such as you cannot conceive. My aunt Sophia has always been there too, and sometimes Louisa, and now Cassandra, of course, Miss Spry, and Bastian's dear friend Matthew, whom you have not yet met. And in London or in Brighton, when the boys have not always been present, we have been caught up in a constant whirl of social engagements – this was also the case when we travelled abroad last year, and we had companions on our journey too. I do not think I have ever been in just one person's constant company in my life before. You must make allowances while I accustom myself to it.'

‘I understand,' he said. ‘I suppose my situation has been very different. I envy you, I think. I have certainly led a solitary and selfish sort of existence as an adult. I was always with Ash when we were young, but Blanche was married when I was ten or eleven, and then my father bought Ash a pair of colours when he turned sixteen – I was at Oxford then, though only briefly. My brother was my father's obvious favourite, or so I thought at the time, which was perfectly understandable. I was always a disappointment to him, and then of course I embarked on my sadly unsteady way of life, about which the least said the better, I think.'

He had not spoken so frankly of his family before – there were hidden depths there, she was sure, and she would have liked to know more if he felt able to tell it, but perhaps he regretted his openness, for he now moved to distract her in a most effective manner. ‘There are, of course, certain advantages to being alone in the house without family or guests to entertain that I think we both can recognise and appreciate,' he said silkily, and he reached out one lazy hand and laid it on her inner thigh, then began to stroke her sensitive skin with the lightest and most tantalising of caresses.

He was lying on his side, looking up at her as he spoke, and she became aware that she was naked, exposed to the waist, and that he was regarding her with a glint in his eyes that she had come to recognise. His expression, and his touch, called an instant response from her, and under his gaze her nipples hardened into taut peaks and her skin flushed with heat, a heat that began to gather between her legs and demand attention. She did not attempt to cover herself, but reclined against the pillows, her eyes holding his.

‘No need to get up for breakfast?' she said, a trifle breathlessly. He had the power – had always had the power, ever since their first meeting – of arousing her with a word, a glance. When that was combined with his touch, she had no hope of resisting, and no desire to do so. Whatever else they had, or did not have, might never have, they had this.

‘No need to get up for luncheon or dinner, if we do not wish to!'

‘I do not wish to,' she declared.

She pulled back the coverlets and moved to straddle his body, and he shifted to accommodate her, steadying her with his big hands either side of her hips, smiling up at her and waiting to see what she would choose to do. She reached forward and took hold of the headboard with both hands, a movement which brought her erect nipples close to his face. He murmured, ‘So damn beautiful…' and the words as much as the whisper touch of his breath caused her skin to pucker and tighten even more. But still he did not put his mouth on her.

She leaned a fraction closer and brushed his lips with one hard peak. ‘Must I beg, sir?' she said in a low tone, almost a growl.

His clever tongue teased her, circling her aroused flesh for a split second and then withdrawing, and she whimpered in frustration. ‘A gentleman should never make a lady beg,' he said, close against her breast, and she could hear the smile in his voice. ‘But it is so very enjoyable, I do not think I can resist the temptation, sinner that I am.' He blew on her gently, and she gasped and writhed against him. ‘Does the touch even of my breath excite you so much, Georgie?'

‘You know it does!'

‘Imagine, then, the sensations if I took your lovely little pink nipple in my mouth and sucked on it, gently at first and then harder.'

‘I am imagining them! But I would rather feel them!'

‘Will you beg me, then?'

She moved again, and brushed the aching bud of flesh across his lips, and his mouth opened a little, to give her a hint of its heat and its wetness, but it was just to tantalise her, no more. ‘Very well,' she said, ‘I beg you, Gabriel, to take my nipple in your mouth and suck on it.'

His tongue came out again and tasted her for a precious second. ‘More!' he whispered. ‘Beg harder. I'm not yet sure you really mean it.'

His hands were gripping her hips, holding her to him, and she could feel his member aroused and hot against her core. She was astonished, always, by his control; she did not share it. She was wet and lightheaded with desire, and ground her pelvis against him. She could feel his instant physical response, but still he did not relent and give her what she so desperately needed. ‘Gabriel,' she moaned, ‘please, please, take me in your mouth and suck on me. I'm aching for your touch. Kiss me. Bite me. Eat me up till there is nothing left. I fear I could die from wanting it!'

And then at last he did. The sudden ruthless way he seized her made her cry aloud and arch her back, clutching at the headboard and pressing herself into his face. He sucked and nibbled on her aroused flesh and then opened his mouth wide and took in almost her whole breast, her nipple grazing the roof of his mouth. Meanwhile his hand was busy between them, positioning himself, and he slipped inside her slick wetness with a dizzying rush that made them both gasp. He pulled his mouth from her and she whimpered, but it was only so he could fasten on her other breast and devour it in the same way. God, yes.

Georgie held tightly to the bed and rode him with fierce concentration, and he held her while she set the pace, his hands hard and tight on her buttocks, his mouth worshipping her breasts. His pleasure in such moments, she knew – and when all else in her life was so uncertain it was something to cling to – was identical with hers. She had learned in the past few days, if she had not known it before, that they were extraordinarily well matched physically. She felt her body tensing itself as the sensations overwhelming her became more intense, and freed herself from his lips so that she could sit upright; he was immediately responsive, as he always was, and moved his hands to her hips once more, supporting her securely. She wanted to see his face; more, she wanted him to see her, she realised. And she had both her hands free now. She caressed her breast with her left hand, taking her nipple, wet and slick from his mouth, almost painfully engorged, between thumb and forefinger and tugging on it. Her other hand slipped between their bodies and found her nub, and began stroking it under his appreciative gaze. A few days earlier she would not have imagined herself doing this so shamelessly while he watched her. There was a great deal she would not have imagined; she was learning fast. ‘Tell me what you see, and what you feel!' she commanded him.

‘Oh, God!' he said. ‘I hope I have the words, Georgie. I see the most beautiful woman I have ever known or imagined, and she is fucking me. Gloriously fucking me. Her perfect breasts are flushed and engorged from where I have feasted on them, her nipples are swollen and wet from my mouth, and she is pulling on one delicious little bud harder than I would ever dare. I must learn to dare, for I am beginning to realise that she loves the point where pain and pleasure meet and one can hardly be told from the other. Her delectable mouth is open and her eyes are dark with desire. Her fingers are tangled in her dark curls and she is working on herself to take her own pleasure, which Christ knows is also mine. Her thighs are gripping me with all her strength and riding me ruthlessly. She is pounding into me, or I into her, I cannot say which, both, so that the friction is almost unbearably good. I am utterly hers. I… She is very close to coming. She is magnificent. She…'

And then he could say no more, or if he still spoke she did not hear him, for his words, the feel of his body under hers and her hands on herself, his beautiful voice, his sense of her, it was all too much, and she came with a great gasp. Her climax triggered his and they fused together in desperate thrusts until they both were spent. She collapsed onto him and he held her as they panted and their hearts beat hard in their breasts. He was still inside her and neither of them moved to free him. His hand came up to cup her head and she buried her face in his neck, drinking in the masculine scent of him; her tongue came out and tasted the salt of his skin. It was good, but it was not enough. She bit him, not gently, and he chuckled. He understood, he always understood; they could not get enough of each other. She sucked on him deliberately, with mouth and teeth. It would leave a mark. She wanted to mark him as hers. He had done the same to her. The marks that were visible to the naked eye were the least of it, she thought as she closed her eyes against the ever-present nagging fear and moved up to kiss him.