Chapter 7

CHAPTER7

“You two took your time to gather those cards,” Rachel remarked, looking between the pair of them.

“Lord Ramsbury was being mischievous and hid the cards.” Bridget smiled, hoping it would explain their rather-long absence under the table.

“I like a good game,” Lord Ramsbury said with ease to Rachel.

As Rachel returned her focus to Bridget, out of the corner of her eye, Bridget caught Lord Ramsbury winking at her.

What game are you playing now, My Lord?

He was supposed to be helping her flirt and seduce Lord Burnington. Yet, with what had just happened under that table, it would have been all too easy to think he had been offering her something else instead.

“I see,” Rachel murmured as she looked at the cards over Bridget’s shoulder. “Perhaps we should retire soon for the night. What do you think, Bridget? The gentlemen have their hunting party tomorrow, and we’re going to town, after all.”

“Yes, Mama Rachel,” Bridget said with a heavy sigh.

It was always the way. She had always loved and admired Rachel for taking care of her and Emily when they had grown up for so long without a mother, but sometimes, she wondered if Emily was right. Rachel’s maternal instincts could sometimes border on a little overbearing.

“At least let us finish our game, Your Grace,” Lord Ramsbury said to Rachel. “And then retire for the night.”

“I was enjoying the game,” Bridget added as she pointed down at the cards. “Besides, we have one last round. Either one of us could win then.”

“Very well.” Rachel laid a hand on Bridget’s shoulder, her fingers tightening softly. Bridget knew what that touch meant without having to hear her sister speak or see her expression.

Rachel was warning her once more to be careful around Lord Ramsbury.

Strangely, Bridget had no wish to be careful at all. She longed to know exactly what Lord Ramsbury, the rake, did with the women he seduced. Did he take them all to bed? Did he show them all what pleasure he was talking of just now? Or did he tease them, as she now felt teased, leaving her wanting something?

“Our last round,” Lord Ramsbury said, his voice deep, as Bridget dealt out the cards.

“So it is.” They piled up their cribs in silence, and the round began. “May I ask you something?”

“I was rather hoping you would,” he said as he looked up from his cards. “Want me to show you the things we were talking about under this table?” He tapped the surface of the table with a finger.

“Not exactly.”

As much as Bridget wished to drop to her knees and declare “yes, show me everything,” she would not.

“When you are with a woman…”

“Go on,” he urged. His deep voice was encouraging when her heart fluttered in her chest with nerves and threatened to silence her.

“What is the feeling like?”

“That is not an easy question to answer.” He smiled rather broadly and sat back as he played his final card. “In fact, it is very difficult to answer. A long description is needed.”

“A long description?” she repeated in wonder, sitting so far forward that she was in danger of falling out of her chair.

Her body’s reaction to their conversation was growing greatly now. That wetness was growing worse, and her hands could never be still. There was a heat growing up her neck that she couldn’t seem to escape, and she rather feared it made her cheeks the color of a tomato.

“Shall we count up?” He changed the subject and pointed down at their cards.

Frustrated, she counted up first, her manner only changing when she realized she had beaten him by one point.

“Ha! I won,” she said, her smile growing.

“Did you?” he asked, sitting back and folding his arms. “I feel like I have won.”

“I won the card game.”

“Perhaps.” He winked once more, for her eyes only. “Now, Lady Bridget, if you wish for an answer to your question, to find out what it truly feels like, I can tell you, but not here.”

“Where?”

“Somewhere that no one can see us.”

It means being alone with him, without a chaperone once more.

Even though Bridget knew she should refuse, she found herself nodding, far too curious to deny such a request.

“Meet me in the upper corridor of the west wing of the house, in the doorway to the long gallery. You can go first so your sister thinks you are, indeed, retiring for the night.”

“Very well.” Bridget returned the cards to the card box and tried not to look too excited or eager. “Goodnight, My Lord.” She raised her voice a little, making sure those playing at the next table could hear her.

Lord Ramsbury smiled at her knowingly.

Bridget said goodnight to Rachel and Daniel, who had not yet retired for the night, and then she left the room, hurrying through the corridors. She took a candle with her, to make her way up to the long gallery, but when she hid in the shadows of the doorway, she blew the candle out and placed the holder down on a nearby table.

She didn’t have to wait long for Lord Ramsbury to appear. He joined her a few minutes later, moving so quietly that she was left in little doubt as to why he could make her jump so easily all the time.

“Lady Bridget?” he called to her in a whisper, his pace slowing.

“I am here.”

She stepped out of the shadows, just enough so that the moonlight shining through one of the windows of the long gallery could illuminate her face.

“Excellent. Come in here, where no one will see us.”

He took her hand and pulled her into the long gallery, pushing the door until it was nearly closed, but not quite. She supposed he feared someone overhearing the heavy door clicking shut if he pushed it all the way.

“You wish to know what pleasure is like, My Lady?”

“You said it could not be answered so simply.” Bridget stepped back into the wall, startled to find he followed her. He halted before her, his hands on either side of her head on the wall.

A wild idea took over Bridget. Did Lord Ramsbury intend to show her what pleasure was like, rather than tell her? She pictured the things her sisters had told her about.

She imagined Lord Ramsbury shifting aside her skirts and reaching beneath her chemise, spreading her legs and entering her with his length. She could imagine tipping her head back, wanting to moan aloud, but she’d have to be quiet up here.

Would she clamp a hand on her lips to stifle that sound? Would he kiss her neck as he thrusts into her, muffling his own noises?

“Everything is different, each time,” Lord Ramsbury whispered suddenly in a rush, his words making that picture fly out of her mind. “Things can begin gently sometimes. It’s about teasing pleasure then—soft touches, excitement. It’s all in the… anticipation.”

His hands slid down the wall, and his wrists were very near to brushing against her waist. He didn’t quite touch her, though. He only made her anticipate it.

“What else?” she whispered, hanging onto his words, wanting to know more.

“Stolen touches, the pleasure itself, and the knowledge of it are what can make the pleasure greater. You suggested downstairs that you might not know everything that happens between a man and a woman.”

Bridget swallowed, saying nothing, just longing to hear what more he would say.

Lord Ramsbury shifted forward, moving his lips to her ear. “There is something a man can do for a woman. It is a way to simulate the feeling of sex, to hit all the spots that excite a woman, to make her writhe, the pleasure so great that it could have her back arching, her body tingling, and a rush that can even sometimes make her see stars.”

“That’s surely not possible,” Bridget whispered. “No sensation could be so great.”

“If done right, it can be.”

Lord Ramsbury’s lips shifted down from her ear to the base of her neck. He didn’t quite touch her, but he moved so close that her eyes traced the side of his face. She watched the way his green eyes seemed to drink her in, dwelling particularly on the swell of her cleavage and the shape of her gown. His lips hovered over her collarbone, his breath so close that she could feel it fluttering against her skin.

“What do you feel now?” he asked.

Bridget could feel many things. Her heartbeat was so fast that she could scarcely judge one beat from another. Her palms were clammy from where they were planted on the wall behind her, though they itched to rise and cling to the man before her.

“A rush,” she whispered.

“Just so.” Lord Ramsbury lifted his head, his smile growing. “If all of that is just from talking about it, imagine what it feels like to do it?”

Bridget inhaled deeply. She was seconds away from doing some sort of mischief she never would have thought herself capable of. She was in danger of asking Lord Ramsbury to show her something, to do the thing that simulated sex so she could know what it felt like.

Nearby in the corridor, footsteps sounded, and a door opened and closed.

Lord Ramsbury’s eyes widened. “We’ll be discovered.” He stepped back from her.

The heat Bridget was feeling dissipated and was swiftly replaced by coldness, the fear of being discovered alone with him, completely breaking the rules.

“Come, this way.”

He offered her his hand, and she didn’t hesitate in gripping it. He led her to the other side of the long gallery and opened another door.

“This corridor will take you back to the east wing, where your chamber is.”

“Wait, you have taken note of where I am sleeping at night?”

At her words, he smiled more. “Did you doubt it?” He laughed. “Go. Now. Before we are seen.”

She hurried through the door and down the corridor, watching as he closed the door behind her. In her haste, she slipped off her shoes and ran down the corridor on tiptoe, making sure she didn’t cause a sound.

When she reached her chamber, she halted. At the far end of the corridor, she could see an orb coming from a candle. She saw Rachel’s silhouette in that orb.

“You worry too much.” It was Daniel’s voice as he followed Rachel up the stairs.

Bridget hurried through the door and pushed it until it was almost closed. Moving her ear to the gap, she listened in on their conversation.

“Your sister is quite safe from Seth,” Daniel assured.

“Perhaps,” Rachel said. “And perhaps not. You said yourself he’s a rake. Do you think he could resist my sister now that they are thrown so much into each other’s path?”

Bridget wished to laugh at their conversation. There was something mad about it, considering the discussion she and Lord Ramsbury had just had.

“Maybe my friend cannot just be defined as a rake. No man is that simple, Rachel.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Rachel said hurriedly. “I’m just protective. I know there is more to Lord Ramsbury.”

“Exactly. So, I will give him the benefit of the doubt. He has assured me he has no designs on Bridget, and I choose to believe him.”

Bridget closed the door and leaned against it.

He has no designs on me.

It shouldn’t matter to her. She was trying to catch the eye of the Earl of Burnington, anyway. It did not matter to her.

Yet, for some reason, it did matter. Considering how close she had come to begging Lord Ramsbury to show her something, the fact he had no designs on her at all mattered very much, indeed.

* * *

Seth kept watching the Earl of Burnington as he lifted his shotgun into the air. He trained it on the pheasants, working hard to tear his gaze away from the Earl, and fired.

“Woah!” Jacob jumped beside him. “You pulled both shots fast.”

“He’s determined today,” Daniel said on his other side. “Haven’t you seen? He hasn’t missed a single bird.”

Seth popped open the shotgun and let the empty cartridges fall to the muddy ground beneath him. It was hard this morning, with the white frost dappling the mud. His gloved fingers kept itching around the trigger, and he eagerly loaded the cartridges again as he waited for the next pheasant to be released into the air by the beaters.

“You going to tell us what’s wrong, Seth? Or do we have to figure it out?” Daniel asked.

“Nothing’s wrong.” Seth lifted the gun and fired again.

“Leave at least one for us, would you?” Jacob huffed. “I can’t get a single pheasant. You’re shooting them all too fast.”

“I have my reasons.” Once more, Seth unloaded the gun and reloaded. His eyes shot to the Earl of Burnington.

That morning, the Earl had shot his mouth off over breakfast about what a fine marksman he was. He was convinced he would shoot more birds than any other man that day. Seth felt an eagerness to prove him wrong.

How can Bridget even like a man so vain and full of himself? What does she see in him?

The Earl of Burnington looked toward Seth along with many of the others. “Give us a chance, Lord Ramsbury,” he shouted at him. “Take a break. Sit down for a minute, if you must.”

“I thought you were the finest shot, Lord Burnington,” Seth said leadingly. “Afraid of the competition?”

“Never!” Lord Burnington laughed and raised his gun high over the line of trees nearby.

Once more, Seth was faster and got the next pheasant first.

“Good God. Would you at least fire that thing not so close to my ear?” Jacob stepped back and placed a finger in his ear, shaking it out.

As Jacob danced up and down about a possibly burst eardrum, Seth felt eyes on him. On his other side, Daniel was leaning on his shotgun, watching him carefully.

“What is it?” Seth asked.

“Nothing.” Daniel shook his head and looked away, his gaze falling on the Earl of Burnington. “I never noticed Lord Burnington got to you so much before. You seem to particularly dislike him this week.”

“Come off it, Daniel. Do you like him?” Seth hissed. “He’s everything you hate. Arrogant. Full of himself. Vain.”

“That’s pretty much all the same thing,” Jacob pointed out, returning to his side, still shaking his ear.

“All right. He’s also…” Seth looked at the Earl, trying to think of another flaw. “He’s too much of a dandy for my liking.” He gestured between the three of them.

They looked after themselves, yes, and they dressed well, but Seth never bothered to dress excessively finely or take on the rather foppish and ridiculous mannerisms that he associated with a dandy. The Earl of Burnington, on the other hand, had ostentatiously lacy cuffs with bright purple shoes on.

“He’s a peacock.” Seth went back to his old insult, making Jacob laugh beside him.

“You won’t hear me arguing with that one,” Jacob agreed with a nod.

“It’s just that he’s never bothered you before,” Daniel said quietly. “What is it about him this week that upsets you?” He tilted his head to the side.

“Stop glaring at me with that owl-like stare.”

Jacob roared with laughter as Seth pointed at Daniel’s face.

“See? He’s just like an owl.”

As Daniel started to complain that he did not look like an owl, Seth satisfied himself with the fact that he’d managed to divert the conversation fully, for now, from the matter of the Earl of Burnington. It only returned when the next pheasants leaped into the sky and Seth was once more the first to shoot them.

“I give up.” Jacob decided to match Daniel’s stance, leaning on his shotgun rather than trying to shoot anything at all.

Lord Burnington sighed heavily where he stood with three other gentlemen. Apparently giving up too, he walked away from the group and toward Seth.

“Well, congratulations, Lord Ramsbury. You have quite beaten us all today.”

“Thank you,” Seth said grudgingly, pleased to have at least made the Earl feel small in some regard.

“I understand we are taking the ladies to town later,” Lord Burnington said to Jacob, who nodded. “I shall be eager to be a part of the party. I will offer my carriage to your sister-in-law, Lady Bridget, for her use.”

Lord Burnington’s eyes slid to Seth, who stiffened. It was as if, in turn, Lord Burnington knew exactly how to rile him.

“I should go and prepare now. Enjoy the rest of the shooting, gentlemen.” Lord Burnington nodded to the three of them and stepped away, leaving Seth tongue-tied as he stared after him.

“Maybe we’ll have a new brother-in-law soon, eh, Daniel?” Jacob asked in a low tone. “Emily certainly seems excited about her sister’s new attachment to that gentleman.”

“A dandy for a brother-in-law? How wonderful,” Seth scoffed. As he turned around, he found Daniel staring at him once more. “Would you quit it with that owl-like glare?”

“If only you start talking about what’s on your mind. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you are not fond of the idea of Lord Burnington and Lady Bridget possibly courting.”

“I…” Seth didn’t want to answer, but Daniel didn’t let up.

“Well?”

“Let’s just say I think she can do better than a man like him,” Seth mumbled quietly as he walked past Daniel to his footman, who took the gun from him and the other cartridges. “In fact, I think she can do a lot better. There. Are you happy now?”

“And you think you’re an authority to comment on who another decides to court?” Daniel teased with a small smile. “Considering your reputation?”

“I didn’t say I have the right to comment,” Seth said darkly, shaking his head.

“Why not? Seth at least has more experience with courting than I did before I met Emily,” Jacob said off-handedly, also handing his shotgun to his footman.

“I beg your pardon?” Daniel stood off the shotgun.

Seth stiffened, sensing what was coming next. He’d known Jacob since they had both been young boys. Jacob was the only one in the world who knew what Seth had been through, how he had fallen in love and courted a woman only for her to leave him a mess with a heart crumpled up like old paper.

They had only become friends with Daniel since he had married Rachel. As close as they were, Daniel didn’t know all of Seth’s secrets.

Clearly, he will soon.

“Jacob…” Seth’s warning tone did nothing to impede the news being delivered.

“Did you not know, Daniel?” Jacob asked. “It hardly matters now, Seth, does it? It was so long ago.”

Seth plunged his hands into the pockets of his frock coat, trying to warm up, as his breath clouded the air that stank of shotgun pellets. He realized as he stared at his friend that for all of Jacob’s goodness and kindness, he might sometimes have his blind spots. This was certainly one of them—Jacob did not realize that Seth was still hurting from his past.

“Seth courted a lady once when we were much younger,” Jacob explained, turning to face Daniel. “That was not long after we were introduced to the ton, was it, Seth?”

“Yes, a long time ago,” Seth murmured, trying to brush it off.

It was the best part of ten years ago. After that, he’d gone traveling the Continent, then returned and taken up his place as the rake that he was only ever thought good enough to be. He wasn’t worthy of having a woman for any longer than one night.

I know my place.

“Who was the lady?” Daniel asked, his eyes wide as he stared at Seth.

“Her name is Lady Marianne Briskova now.” Seth spoke the words quickly, not wanting to dwell on the memory. It was a dark period of his life when Marianne had turned away from him. He’d not long lost his father, and had relied rather heavily on the strong connection he had with Marianne.

After her rejection, he had spent much time with his mother as her health was in decline. At the end of the year, he had lost his mother too. The shadows were great, the darkness heavy, and he had been unable to cheer his own spirits. It was Jacob who had lifted him out of the darkness in the end, and at a ball one night, a lady had made it plain that she was interested in Seth, for a night of passion.

Seth had thrown caution to the wind. Desperate to think of something else other than his grief for his parents and his rejection from Marianne, just how worthless he truly was, he’d taken the lady up on her offer.

One night of passion led to others with other ladies, and before Seth was really aware of what had happened, he had become the rake that Marianne had claimed he’d be well suited to be.

“Lady Marianne Briskova?” Daniel repeated. “She’s married to the Prussian Count?” Daniel’s jaw went slack.

“She is.” Seth nodded. “As Jacob said, it was a long time ago.”

“Now, shall we go get something to eat? I’m starving.” Jacob led the way, urging the footmen to follow with their shotguns.

Seth went to follow, but Daniel grabbed him by the arm and brought him to a rather sudden and ungainly halt on the frosty grass.

“Seth? Why haven’t you ever told me this?”

“I just told you. It was a long time ago. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

Seth shrugged Daniel off and walked away, eagerly following Jacob, though he was all too aware of Daniel following behind. He prayed, rather than hoped, that Daniel believed him.