Chapter 16

Once again, Julius was gone before dawn and Louisa, after attending the household duties, setting the menus, replying to letters, vacillated on what to do for the afternoon.

The card with the modiste's address was sitting on her table, but she refused to look at it; the implications made her face burn. But the more she tried to avoid the issue, the more it danced in front of her eyes. Could that be the reason Julius had not consummated their marriage yet? Was her apparel too uninviting?

"Dash it all," she sighed and stood from her desk. "Miriam, please get dressed for a trip and call the carriage around."

"Where are we headed, Your Grace?" her maid asked while finishing tying off the curtain. "Somewhere I should have gone a long time ago."

Their destination was Number Eight in SoHo, a two-story building sandwiched between a watchmakers and millinery; a small gold placard on the dark stone walls read simply, "Madame Maryse Poirier."

Stepping inside, Emma paused on the threshold. The boutique's foyer was done in understated tones of cream and gently grey damask paper on the walls while walnut chairs and a coffee table were in the center. An ornately crafted bookstand stood with an embossed leather ledger on it.

"May I help you, mademoiselle?"

"Good day," Louisa took in a breath as the fashionable clad lady. "My mother, the Viscountess of Claiborne sent me to you. I'm her daughter, you see and she?—"

"Ah, so you're the one," the lady nodded. "Oui, your mother does talk about you a lot and I have promised her to take you on if you do come to me. Please, this way."

The sun shone through the bow window at the front of the room, glinting off the reception desk and stairwell that led up the fitting rooms. Nothing was on display—which struck Louisa as odd. Maybe the clothes were made to order? Women had different sizes after all.

"Up on the pedestal, chérie, and first remove your outer things," the lady said while pulling a measuring tape from a drawer. "What do you think you'd like?"

"I—" she found she had no reference. "I think I shall leave that to your best judgment."

"Hmm," the modiste tapped her chin. "Robes, silky one, corsets, garters and stockings. Your skin, my dear is alabaster, I believe something with a rose tone will do you well."

"I am in your hands," Louisa said.

"It will be a while, my dear," the modiste warned.

"Take all the time you need."

Stepping into the townhouse's foyer, Julius held back a frustrated huff, another day of no lead. The clerk, was nowhere to be found in Windsor. Julius had toiled all morning A few people did remember him being there, and an elder of the church had recalled the man marrying and moving away.

"Where is Her Grace, this afternoon?" he asked Sawyer, fully intending on having a glass of brandy and recalibrating his plan.

"She took her maid to a boutique in SoHo, Your Grace," Sawyer replied. "She did take her maid and two footmen with her so I suppose she will be fine."

As much as his skin itched to go and verify that Sawyer was right, he had to trust Louisa and have faith that the men surrounding her would protect her as if they would do for a Queen.

Back in his study, he went back to the previous plan, wondering what the next step would be. There was no other option; he would have to expand the search, scour every church in the country, find marriage licenses if he had to, go through every graveyard if he had to— but he had to find the clerk.

By the time evening was drawing down, he grew concerned; Louisa should have returned by now, where was she? When dusk fell, his worry cut through him, and he got his coat on. "Send for the carriage," he ordered a footman. "I have to find my missing wife."

The London streets were packed with carriages— it was just his luck that a Covent Garden opera had ended—pedestrians and hawkers with their carts, selling sweet buns and oranges. Julius' eyes landed on jug-bitten drunkards lingering at alley mouths, and shady men playing cards on overturned crates.

A hundred perils bloomed before his eyes and he had to sit away from the window and suck in a breath, calming himself. She was safe, he knew it, but it did not stop him from fearing the worst.

"About time," he nearly launched himself from the door before the carriage even stopped.

An attendant let him in, "Her Grace is occupied, Your Grace," the lady said.

"I do not care, show me where she is."

"But Sir, her privacy is?—"

Julius skirted her and headed up the stairs, hell bent on find Louisa and when he did step in the fitting room, he found her practically naked. The sight of herself in the most wicked garment he had ever beheld struck through him like a lightning bolt.

Constructed of rose silk, the corset was trimmed with a column of little cream bows down the front and delicate lace along the edges. It molded her figure into a sensuous shape, cinching her waist and pushing her breasts up so that they nearly spilled from the pleated cups.

She wore matching rose silk stockings and shirred garters adorned with satin bows—and nothing in-between, which meant she was utterly exposed to his gaze.

"Louisa," he said strongly.

She let out a surprised yip, like a tiny dog jumping away from water, crossed her legs and covering her exposed womanhood, spun her back to him. Julius stood transfixed, the sight before him shifting his intention from making sure she was safe to a blazing bonfire of lust.

His loins flooded with heat. "Everyone out." He ordered.

He swallowed as he took in her generous backside. Her rounded hips were made for a man's hands to hold onto, her lush, peach-shaped bottom high and unblemished.

"Turn around," he said firmly.

"I cannot," her voice was trembling. "Not like this! I—I-"

"I have seen you before, Louisa. These trappings only enhance the beauty I see in you." Julius told her calmly. "Turn around, darling. Let me see you."

She obeyed and his eyes ran over her, from her pinned hair, down to the delicate looking bustier that made his palms itch to smooth over her nipped-in waist. His breath caught at the sight of her quim, soft, trimmed sable hairs, perfectly unspoiled.

With a shuddering breath, he focused on the sheer stockings, held by pink ribbon garters, covering her shapely leg and down to her delicate ankles. Lust gripped his belly, and the pressure was thickening his length.

Mounting the dais, he backed her against the wall, the wood smooth and cool against her bare shoulders. His hands closed over her breasts, and her mouth fell open in a whooshing breath as his hard thigh wedged boldly between her legs.

"I was afraid you were waylaid somewhere in a London alley," his voice dropped. "It would be remiss if me not to come look for you and I find you like this…" his hand dropped to her hip and fingers curved around to her backside. "When did you become a naughty minx? It's not like you."

"I wanted to try something different," she said, breathlessly. With a mere inch between them he saw small gold flecks in her eyes. "I was not sure if my old night-garments were…" she bit her lip and turned even rosier—by God, she blushed in the most interesting of places. "Unappetizing."

"They were." Julius nudged his knee further between her thighs. "But this—" he strummed the taut little nipples that were full, maddeningly ripe."—would tempt a celibate monk into debauchery."

He felt her hips rock on his thigh, but she stopped, and Julius was not having it. "Take your pleasure, Louisa. Go ahead," he murmured, his mouth lowering to hers again. "Ride me."

"Julius, its…its scandalous," she gaped. "I?—"

He gripped her hips and shifted her over his thigh, the smooth silk of his breeches a soft barrier and tantalizing temptation. His grin turned wicked as she flexed her hips. He saw the moment the jab of pleasure hit her, and her mouth curved into a plump ‘o'.

"We're alone," he encouraged her. "Don't hide from me."

Her arms winding around his neck, she rocked herself shamelessly against the muscled leg. He nudged deeper against her sex, hitting an exquisite peak, and her breath popped free, turning into a moan as it left her lips.

"Christ, you don't know how good that feels," he groaned against her lips.

Oh, but she did. Nearly naked, crushed against this big, fully clothed form, she gripped his shoulder and allowed the sparks of pleasure to meld into each other, forming a constant surge of pleasure.

She began to ride him with feverish abandon. He encouraged her with hot words, petting her breasts, making her grow wetter. Louisa could feel how she was dampening his trousers, and while she normally feel mortified about how shameless she was, yet she couldn't stop herself.

She clung to him, trying to get the pressure right where she needed it ... "Let me touch you," He replaced his thigh with his hand, and she cried out.

"So goddamn perfect." The words sounded scraped from his throat. Her hips jerked as his fingers found her through the thin lawn, sliding along her slick groove. "Work yourself against my finger," he instructed. "Harder, Louisa, be selfish.

"Please, help me …"

He pressed open-mouthed kisses down her neck and shoulders, reveling in the downiness of her skin. Her fingers slid against his scalp, urging him closer, "You want to come?"

"Yes." He bent his head and sucked hard on her nipple. His teeth grazed her at the same time that he gave her pearl a decimating sharp flick.

A cry broke from her lips as spasms rocked her. Bliss— like she'd never known existed. As she dissolved into bone-melting ecstasy, she caught his voice above her thundering heartbeat. "Good girl."

Louisa felt herself being lifted and rested upon a jutting window sill while Julius removed his greatcoat and wrapped it around her. "We're leaving."

"But my clothes—" she began as he gathered her dress and petticoat in a ball under his arm. "Surely I cannot leave like this."

"Humor me," he kissed her cheek.

They descended the stairs with her still bright red and when the modiste looked up from her ledger, she mildly asked, "Is everything all right?"

"More than," Julius said. "We shall take three sets of everything you've made for her and what she had on included."

Madame Poirier picked up a robe, a silky blush coverlet and handed it to him. "This goes with the first suit, Your Grace."

Nodding his thanks, Julius guided her to the carriage waiting under the indigo sky. Inside, he pulled the shade down and pulled her into his side, drawing her stocking clad leg unto his lap. Stroking a finger up the almost invisible inner seam, he played with the bows on it.

"These are so feminine," he murmured. "Like you."

Her head was listing on his shoulder, fatigued from the powerful orgasm earlier. "I am glad you love them," she said softly. "I was not sure I would ever be so risqué."

"You're lovely, Louisa." he said peeling the lapels of his coat from her new bustier. She couldn't look away from the possession smoldering in his eyes, and she trembled as his touch coursed down her throat, and down the slope of her shoulder.

Unfamiliar with the soft touch, she tried to hunch in on herself but he stopped her. "What did I say about hiding yourself?" he inquired. Tension crackled in the space between them.

A strange, magnetic attraction hummed between them, and Julius was willing to let it simmer. On a deeper level, he was heartened by her increasing willingness to go out of her comfort to please him and he loved her growing confidence and wanted to encourage it.

He slid a hand up her arm and over her neck, cupping her jaw and tilting her head so that he could look into her eyes and judge her emotions. He saw a desire in her eyes.

"What do you want?"

She swallowed then, her delicate throat working "I want you to kiss me."

He needed that kiss. "Ask and you shall receive."

The kiss started sweetly but grew intense and his turgid length pressed firmly against her naked bottom; she pulled back, breathless, but Julis let his mouth wander from her mouth to her neck, licking and nibbling his way down her throat.

She squirmed in his lap, and he groaned as the curve of her buttocks moved snugly against his cock. It would take every ounce of his self-control to survive this journey home.

"I got concerned when you were not home," he explained, shifting her so she sat between the corner of the seat and his side. "I had to come and find you, Louisa. My heart would not rest easy is you were gone for so long."

"You're so protective," she laughed softly.

"I have to be," he replied. "I would give my life for those who are close to me and for ones I have vowed to look after, and before you second-guess yourself, yes, you are one of the few."

"I'd question your sanity if I wasn't included," she teased. "Do I need to remind you of your vows, Your Grace?"

His brow cocked up, "I have an excellent memory, Your Grace, so no, you do not need to remind me of my vows, I do however, was lacking on effecting them."

"Don't worry, Your Grace, you have ample time to make up for it," Louisa replied, resting her head on his shoulder.

"I certainly hope so."