Chapter 9

The day had turnedinto one of the darkest and most difficult of Bernadette's life. The insult of Lady Gladys had been added to the injury of planning a ball so the man she was quickly falling in love with could find someone else to marry. And the guilt of nearly confessing everything to Hethersett had only added to her burdens.

She'd left the disastrous luncheon to gather up the remaining invitations and taken herself to one of the parlors that was not in need of renovation so that she might finish them. But the parlor window showed her too clear a view of Alden and Lady Gladys continuing with luncheon. When the conversation between the two of them seemed to turn intimate, Bernadette gathered her things once again and took herself off to the other side of the house.

Mrs. Pettigrew had found here there, on the verge of tears.

"It cannot be as bad as all that, my lady," the kind woman had said, resting a hand on Bernadette's back. She jumped when Egbert decided to emerge from the warmth of her fichu and skitter off.

"It is my own silliness," Bernadette said, determined not to wallow in misery. "I am not in a position to concern myself with who Lord Alden chooses to befriend."

Mrs. Pettigrew had merely hummed, but her expression hinted she had more to say.

She knew her place well enough not to say it, however. Instead, she offered to allow Bernadette to use her study in the servants' quarters downstairs so that she could finish the invitations without interruption.

It was not hiding. She had not taken herself belowstairs, where Alden surely would not follow or find her, in order to avoid the man she should have seen as her employer only. She was merely offering here sincere assistance to the staff of Lyndhurst Grove by remaining downstairs through the afternoon and meeting with the workmen who needed her opinion about fabric samples and paint colors there instead of venturing into the rest of the house.

She told herself that she was tired, and that was why she chose to take supper in her guestroom instead of joining Alden in the dining room. No one had said anything, so for all she knew, Lady Gladys had stayed in the house and would be dining with them. Bernadette could not smile her way through another meal with the woman. Particularly since Lady Gladys had given every indication of knowing about Hethersett.

Still, Bernadette felt restless and anxious as she paced her bedroom, and even though the supper Mrs. Pettigrew had sent up for her was fragrant and beautifully presented, Bernadette could only pick at it. Her appetite had gone completely.

So when there was a heavy knock at her door just as she'd finished nibbling at the food on her plate, she was only too glad to abandon the meal to answer the door. She expected that it would be Mrs. Pettigrew, or perhaps Rebecca or Mercy, asking to take the tray away. When she opened the door to find Alden standing there, her heart seemed to drop to her stomach before flying up to her throat.

And then, before she could fully settle herself into conversation with him, Alden had his arms around her and his mouth slanted over hers in a kiss.

Bernadette's head spun as her senses were overwhelmed with need. Alden's body was strong and warm against hers. His arms held her firmly, but without crushing. The ardor of his kiss was something she'd only ever dreamed of, and she could not help but to melt into it. She gripped the back of Alden's neck, both for support and so that he wouldn't change his mind, pull away from her, and end the dream she felt she'd suddenly fallen into.

"I wish to marry you," Alden repeated as they paused to breathe and gaze at each other.

There was so much desire in his eyes and such determination within him that she could feel it in every part of the way he held her. What she saw reflected back at her in his expression was so much like what she felt and what she wanted that she drank in his words without letting practicality interfere.

"I want you," she whispered, leaning into him and brushing his stubbly jaw and his neck with her free hand. She watched her hand's path as she dipped lower, touching the exposed skin of his throat and the top of his chest before delving beneath his shirt to rest her hand on his shoulder under the cloth. Then she raised her eyes to meet his smoldering ones again. "I want you as I've never wanted a man before."

She braced herself, waiting for what she feared was the inevitable moment when good sense would reign and when he would back away as a sign of misplaced respect for her position and her person. Bernadette had experienced that moment when a man's conscience overrode her desire far too many times in the past, and she hated the infantilizing feeling it gave her.

But just when she thought Alden's hesitation would shift to setting her aside, he breathed, "I want you, too," and pulled her tighter against him so that he could kiss her again.

His kisses were a wonder. More than any of the few men she'd been with long ago in her past, he ravished her with strength while remaining tender and caring. He played his tongue against hers without thrusting or taking, but still gave Bernadette so much to savor and enjoy. And when she returned his passion with her own, he groaned and accepted her advances, allowing her to take from him what she wanted.

The intensity of the moment increased when he swept one hand around to cradle her breast. She caught her breath then sighed as he raked his thumb over her nipple through the fabric of her gown. It was tantalizing and delicious, and she immediately wanted to shed all of her clothes and give herself to him fully.

"Take me to bed," she whispered, leaning away from their kiss so that she might work loose the remaining fastenings of his shirt. "Have your wicked way with me."

Alden swallowed, making his Adam's apple bob, and asked, "Are you certain that is what you want?"

Bernadette pulled her gaze up from his chest to meet his eyes again. "Oh, yes," she said, her voice deeper and more sensual than usual.

That was all Alden needed to hear. He kissed her again, deep and possessive, then stepped back to rush through the fastenings of his breeches. Bernadette went to work with swift, shaking hands as well, tugging at the ties of her gown, then shimmying out of it and working on her stays as soon as her grown was nothing but a puddle of fabric on the floor.

Undressing was always a frustrating interruption to ardor, but Bernadette's heart continued to pound with excitement as she watched Alden pull off his boots, then drag his shirt up over his head and toss it aside. He watched her as she tugged and pulled at her underthings. The two of them smiled broadly at each other, as if they were both racing and putting on a show for each other.

All of that was forgotten the moment the cool, evening air caressed her bare skin, and as soon as Alden stood from removing his stockings and breeches. She could hardly breathe as she drank in the sight of Alden's powerful, naked body. It was one thing to guess that he was fit and strong by looking at him clothed, but to see his defined muscles, his tanned skin, and his narrow waist was a marvel.

But the most enticing sight of all to her was his proud, erect cock and tight balls beneath it. It had been so very long since Bernadette had been treated to the intimate sight of a man who wanted her, or since she had indulged in the freedom to enjoy herself that was a hallmark of her Oxford Society friends. She'd caroused with the best of them in her university days, but not at all since the day her parents ruined her life.

She didn't pause to consider what Alden would think. She stepped toward him, then dropped to her knees so that she might caress that intimate part of him. He gasped in surprise and went rigid when she held the base of his cock, then leaned forward to kiss and close her mouth over his cockhead to enjoy him.

She knew full well what sort of pleasure her mouth on a man's member could give, but she grinned in triumph all the same when Alden let out a strangled, "Good God!" as she licked him.

It had been such a long time, but she remembered enough to draw him deeper into her mouth, using her tongue and the suction of her cheeks to bring him alive with sensation. Alden let out another moan of pleasure and curled his fingertips into her hair, as if on instinct, as she worked him deeper.

She had once prided herself on her skills in bringing a man completely to his knees that way, but she was desperately out of practice. As soon as she started to choke, she pulled back.

Alden didn't seem to mind at all, however. His breathing had turned quick and shallow, and Bernadette suspected she had brought him closer to the edge than even he had anticipated. He seemed relieve to gather her into his arms and lift her to her feet before slanting his mouth over hers in another kiss.

"You do not have to do that," he told her a moment later, as they moved toward the bed.

"I enjoy doing that," Bernadette said coquettishly. "I'm quite good, you know. But it has been a very long time."

Alden made an indecipherable sound of lust, then lifted her so that he could lay her across the bed. "As it happens," he said, mischief in his eyes and his tone, "I am also very fond of certain activities, and quite accomplished at them as well."

Bernadette began to laugh, but that laughter turned into a gasp, then a long moan as Alden pushed her legs wide open, then dove into the heat and need between them.

He was true to his word. From the moment his fingers delved into her damp folds, teasing and exposing, pleasure overwhelmed her. It grew by the second until she was too overwhelmed to do more than throw her hands over her head and give in once he brought his mouth to her sex. He absolutely knew how to use his fingers and tongue and lips in concert to draw heady pleasure from her that threatened to swallow her.

He did not take his time either. He barely allowed her to think as he licked and suckled her clitoris while sliding his fingers into her wetness to fill and stroke her. He seemed to be able to read her body's responses and to know what she liked and what sent her careening toward the abyss faster.

It was too much for her to resist. She gave herself to the swell of pleasure that coiled within her, and then burst. She threw her head back and cried out as she came with stunning intensity, her entire body throbbing to his touch. It was exquisite.

And then he surprised her even more by rising, gripping her thighs and pulling her hips toward the end of the bed. He glanced down at her, as if gauging her feelings and asking for permission.

"Yes," she moaned, still feeling the tremors of her orgasm.

He did not hesitate or second-guess her wishes. He lined himself up with her sex, then pushed into her swiftly and thoroughly. Bernadette cried out with pleasure again, shivering as his thickness seemed to fill her to the point of bursting and then some. She was no virgin, but it had been so long that she had forgotten how tight the feeling of being claimed could be, or how magnificent it was.

Better still, once Alden was sheathed inside her, holding her lower back up so that he could thrust, it was like he became some sort of wild thing that only wanted. He watched her the whole time as he thrust, setting a punishing pace that made Bernadette feel both used and worshiped at the same time.

"Yes, yes!" she gasped as he took his pleasure in her.

She could tell he was close to his release when he adjusted their positions so that he could spread himself over her as he thrust. He kissed her once, but they were both too breathless with pleasure for it to last. Bernadette's body coiled with life again, and when he clasped a hand around her breast, almost as if he needed it to keep himself anchored, she cried out and burst into another orgasm.

Alden was not far behind. He let out a fierce cry, and his thrusts increased before hitting their peak. He was slow to finish, moving within her long after his tension released. Even then, he seemed to want to stay joined with her as he collapsed and rolled to his side, keeping her tight in his embrace.

"That was glorious," he panted several moments later, once both of them had sailed out of the storm of passion and into the realm of mere mortals again.

"Bliss," Bernadette agreed, unable to say much more.

Alden kissed her, long and tenderly, when neither could find more words. They moved, their bodies separating, to find their way under the bedclothes together, then curled into each other for more kissing and touching. Bernadette could hardly imagine what she had done to deserve such wonders.

"We will call the entire ball off," Alden said sometime later, a smile in his voice and his eyes as he stroked the side of Bernadette's face. "Or it will be changed to an engagement ball for the two of us."

"Oh," Bernadette gasped. Guilt and misery welled up in her. How could she have been so foolish as to forget the circumstances surrounding her? Passion truly was an elixir that made sensible people forget everything.

"I will write to your father at once," Alden went on, so full of joy that it wounded Bernadette. "Are there marriage customs in East Anglia that I should be aware of? It is proper for me to ask your father for your hand, is it not? Even though you are an Oxford Society lady?"

"Alden," Bernadette said, trying to pull herself away from him and beginning to feel sick.

"I know my family will not care whether things are done properly or not," Alden went on. "Uncle Gerald will just be happy that I've found a wife."

"Alden," she tried again.

But Alden was too caught up in his own ideas. "Forget using the ball as an engagement announcement. We should be married at once and have the ball as a celebration of that marriage."

It was too much. Everything he said was everything she wanted, but all of it was impossible. The sooner she put an end to it the better.

"Alden," she said again, rising on one arm and placing a hand on his damp chest, as if to still him.

"Yes, my love?" he asked, smiling and reaching up to brush a lock of hair back from her face.

Bernadette swallowed to keep herself from sobbing. "We cannot marry."

Alden's smile remained for a few seconds after her statement, then dropped. "What do you mean?" he asked. "I have been falling in love with you since the moment we met, and I know that you have feelings for me as well. We've just shared our souls with each other, and do not tell me it meant nothing to you, because I know it did."

The urge to weep grew stronger, and Bernadette lowered her head. "I do wish to marry you," she said, pain in her voice. "I…I have fallen in love with you as well."

Alden pushed himself to sit and grasped her hands. "Well then?" He seemed so desperately confused. "Why should we not marry?"

Bernadette swallowed. "Because I am already married," she said, unable to look at him.

A terrifying, extended moment of silence followed before Alden asked, "What?"

Bernadette raised her eyes to meet his, summoning all her strength. "I have only met him once, though we have corresponded frequently over the last more than ten years. His name is Harold Hethersett. He is one of East Anglia's ambassadors to Norway."

Alden stared at her, blinked, then said, "I do not understand."

Bernadette sighed, her whole body sagging. She pulled her hands away from Alden's, then shifted to sit against the headboard, hugging herself.

"My father is a baron, but he has always wanted to increase our family's power and influence. As his eldest daughter, he saw me as the ideal way to do that. I was allowed to attend Oxford so that I would become educated and able to carry on a conversation with the highest of men.

"Shortly after graduating, he announced to me that he had contracted a marriage for me to Lord Harold Hethersett, whose father is a marquess. The two of us were introduced, and we liked each other well enough, but there was no spark there. At the same time, Hethersett was called to Christiana to begin his tenure as Ambassador to Norway. The troubles between Norway and Sweden had only begun in those days, and Hethersett, who is very much liked by both sides in the conflict, was called upon to broker negotiations."

Bernadette sighed and brushed away a stray tear that had escaped. Her fate was bitterly unfair, now more than ever.

"We were married by proxy the following summer," she said.

"By proxy?" Alden asked with a frown. "Is that legally binding?"

Bernadette nodded. "Proxy marriages, while not common, are very much legally binding in East Anglia. I signed the paperwork, under my father's supervision, and Hethersett signed his contract from his post abroad."

"But you say you have only ever met your…your husband once?" Alden was clearly incredulous.

"Just the once," Bernadette said, trying to smile and failing. "More than ten years ago. Tensions in Scandinavia, as I'm sure you know, have been high ever since then. Then came the Norwegian war for independence in eighteen-fourteen. Hethersett could not be recalled to Britannia, and when I wrote to him, suggesting I travel to Christiana to be with him, he wrote back saying I should not. Quite vehemently, to be honest." Bernadette sagged, feeling the weight of being so hurtfully rejected by her own husband those years ago. And yet, he'd continued to write long and illustrative letters.

"This is preposterous," Alden snapped, bringing Bernadette back to the present. "Your father cannot hold you to a marriage you do not want to a man you do not know and have not seen for a decade. It is barbaric."

"It is the way of East Anglia," she said with a helpless shrug. "I do not feel married, and I am certainly not in love with Hethersett. We do enjoy writing to each other. He writes with such eloquence, almost the way my friends in the Oxford Society do. I dare say I know as much about the courts of Sweden and Norway as I do those of East Anglia, Mercia, and Wessex."

"Are you certain you are actually married?" Alden asked, one eyebrow raised.

"Unfortunately, yes," Bernadette sighed. "I most definitely signed the contract, and Father reminds me of my duties every time I visit home. Which is why I spend as little time in Norwich as possible."

"This is unfathomable," Alden said, resting back against the headboard with her and shoving a hand through his disheveled hair. "It cannot be."

"And yet, it is," Bernadette said. "I cannot marry you, despite my deep and ardent feelings for you. And you must marry in order to avoid your family's curse."

Alden went very still and tight for a moment, as if he were holding his breath. Then he hissed, "Damn. This is the curse. It has to be. The moment I find a beautiful, intelligent, wonderful woman, one who as no fear of my passions, in any sense of the word, I discover that we can never be together."

"I am sorry," Bernadette said quietly.

Alden sent her a sad smile, then reached for her hand on the covers between them. "As am I," he said. "I would marry you tomorrow, if you were free."

"And I you," Bernadette sighed, tears threatening to spill once more.

For a long time, they were silent. Then Bernadette asked, "What do we do now?"

Alden let out a long breath, seeming to gather his thoughts, then nodded. "I suppose there's nothing for it but to continue on with the ball."

Bernadette felt as though her insides shattered with those words. "I will do my utmost best to find you a suitable woman to marry," she whispered.

Alden turned to look at her as if his whole world had fallen apart. "Something will transpire between now and then that will resolve everything, I am certain."

Bernadette forced herself to smile. "Yes," she said. "I am certain it will."

She was anything but certain. Her fate had been sealed long ago, when she had been too young and weak to stop disaster. She could not erase those bonds now, and Alden could not ignore a curse that had already come between them.

But really, there had to be something she could do. At the very least, she could write and confess all to Hethersett. Perhaps he would be so enraged that she had given her heart to another that he would divorce her. The shame of that would ruin her standing in the ton, and her father would likely be so angry he might disown her. Her entire family would be disgraced. But she would have Alden.

There was simply no way to know which set of disasters might befall them, whether she appealed to Hethersett or not. In any case, the ball had to move forward. Come what may, they could build memories that would carry her through the dark days to come, when the ball was over and both of them would be forced to move on without each other.