Chapter 18

Three days passed, and Victoria's thoughts were consumed by her most recent encounter with Lord Bedford. She ached, body and soul, to see him once again. By chance, Lady Norwood decided to leave for several days to visit a friend of hers in the countryside. She took the maid-of-all-work with her, which meant that Victoria was alone in the townhouse.

Victoria swallowed hard and carefully penned her letter to Lord Bedford, inviting him to the townhouse. It was the quickest missive she had ever written, even with her trembling hands. She quickly set her course to his townhouse and asked that it be given to Lord Bedford. Then, she returned home to enact her plan. Her heart beat so loudly that its echo reverberated inside her skull as she made the preparations for her plan.

This was not what a young lady ought to be doing. Even Victoria knew that. This was something that Lady Constance would do, this dramatic and marvellous plan. Victoria's breath shuddered inside her chest. She took the pages of her play in shaking hands and read them again as if the words might have magically changed in the few seconds that she glanced away from them.

A door opened from the ground floor. "Lady Victoria?" Lord Bedford's voice was clear.

She strode to the library doorway. This was it. He had arrived, which meant that she could not abandon her plan now. It was too late. "In here!" she exclaimed.

His footsteps thundered up the stairs, and with every step, Victoria's throat grew tighter. Could she do this? She swept across the floor and grasped the pages of her play so tightly that the paper threatened to tear beneath her hands.

Lord Bedford appeared at the library entrance, and Victoria forced her shoulders back. She leaned against the edge of a bookcase and tried to exude an aura of elegance and calm sophistication. Inside, her chest tightened.

"Oh," Lord Bedford muttered. "And what is this?"

Victoria's face warmed. She was conscious of her gown. It was a daring scarlet garment she had borrowed from Loralie. Its bodice was lower than any garment that she owned, and it fit more tightly, too.

Wearing the garment had seemed like an excellent idea when she had borrowed it and thought of this plan, but now, she felt strange and ridiculous. What if she had misunderstood Lord Bedford? What if he thought that she was just a foolish girl playing the role of a mature lady?

"I—I made a stage," she said, gesturing to the curtain strung along the shelves behind her. "You had expressed an interest in seeing my play, and even though it is not yet finished, I thought that I would show you a piece of it. Perhaps you could help me with it, provide some criticism or instruction."

"A private performance," he said.

"Yes."

"And who are you meant to be? Lady Constance?"

"No," she replied. "I am the spirit of love and lust."

Lord Bedford grinned at her. He looked as though he had no idea what to say, as if she had startled him most delightfully. The lord seated himself in a nearby chair. Victoria cleared her throat and unfolded the papers. "Shall I begin?"

"Please, do."

Victoria swept across the room, her back turned to Lord Bedford. Her face grew hot, and she took several deep breaths to try and steady herself before speaking. She had never performed before; she was not an actress like Loralie. But when Victoria had thought about sharing her play with Lord Bedford, she imagined herself acting. That would be preferable to simply allowing the lord to read it.

She turned around, leaning against the curtain in what she hoped was a sensuous manner. Victoria had seen Loralie take this same stance before—her back arched, her arms above her head, and her lips slightly parted. Lord Bedford would probably have seen it, too. He had seen actual actresses, after all, and Victoria was not that. She would do her best, though.

"There is much that men can say of love," Victoria said, tipping her head back and glancing at her play. She was fairly certain that she knew all the lines well enough to speak them without looking, but she would rather be overly careful than sacrifice her performance by forgetting something. "And lust. I am sure our esteemed guests, particularly the gentlemen, shall agree."

Lord Bedford chuckled, and his eyes crinkled at the corners. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, seemingly satisfied and content to listen further. Victoria grinned and continued, "But listen to a lady's words and how she might speak of love.

Love is the warmth a lady feels when a handsome gentleman meets her gaze from across the room. It is the delight that she feels in his every touch, the anticipation that courses through her when she smells his cologne. It is his smile, his wit, and his private tutorship."

That drew another chuckle. Lord Bedford grinned, and Victoria saw him silently echo the words "private tutorship."

"Love is independent of men but crafted by men, and we see that she transforms at the whims of those handsome rakes."

Victoria seized the side of the curtain and swept behind it. She took a deep breath and removed the gown. Beneath, she wore a pair of borrowed stays—embroidered with white-on-white flowers—and her own chemise. Victoria swept from behind the curtain and locked eyes with Lord Bedford.

He curled his hands around the arms of his chair. "Lady Victoria!" he exclaimed.

She paused and took a hesitant step forward. "Do you not like—"

"I adore you," he interrupted. "Continue."

Victoria's heart beat more quickly. She walked sensuously to him, swaying her hips in the same practiced way that Loralie often did. "Love is transformed by men's affections and written into men's poems and songs. She is the force that men live and die for, and ladies, too. And just as love is transformed by us, we are transformed by her. Love is passion above all else. Love is the heat of a gaze, the lightest caress, the amorous congress."

Victoria halted before Lord Bedford. She felt as though her knees were growing weak. It took all the force of her will to remain standing before him. And Lord Bedford gazed at her with something like awe and amusement intertwined.

"Men say that love deserves to be worshipped," Victoria said, her voice wavering. "Show me how. I do not know what happens next."

Lord Bedford surged from his chair and pulled her into a kiss. One arm wrapped around the waist and drew her flush against his chest. The other found the base of her neck. He kissed her fiercely as if his life depended on satisfying her. Victoria curled her hands in his hair and moaned into his mouth.

Lord Bedford bucked his hips against hers, and Victoria felt his hardness against her stomach. She gasped and trembled. When Lord Bedford dipped his head against her neck and kissed her, Victoria took great gulps of air, trying to steady herself. "I—I have heard that men become like …" Words failed her. She could not bring herself to make note of the observation.

Lord Bedford chuckled and trailed kisses down her throat and her collarbone. His mouth was hot against her skin, and Victoria felt that familiar ache form between her thighs. She groaned and let her hands roam over his upper back.

Somehow, they crossed the floor, and Victoria's back pressed back against the fabric of her curtain. "Oh!" she exclaimed.

"Are you sure about this?" Lord Bedford asked.

"Yes!" she breathed.

He kissed the tops of her breasts, and Victoria arched her back. The ache between her legs grew stronger, and a groan tore from her throat. Her fingers grasped handfuls of his jacket, urging him to press more insistently against her.

Lord Bedford reached for his trousers, and Victoria watched, transfixed, as he freed his manhood. Her breath caught in her throat. He looked so large and firm. And Victoria's thighs trembled as she took in the sight of him. "Oh, My Lord …" she murmured. "You are so large."

"You will be well-prepared," Lord Bedford said, his eyes alight with excitement. "I promise."

Lord Bedford seized her chemise and brought the garment up, holding it against her waist. Victoria felt so wonderfully exposed as Lord Bedford pressed his manhood against her maidenhead. She groaned and spread her legs. Lord Bedford's hardness pressed against her entrance, sending a surge of desire through her. Victoria's thighs felt hot and damp, and she gasped for air. The entire world seemed to fade away until it was only the two of them.

"Spread your legs," Lord Bedford muttered, "and I will enter you slowly. Let me know if it becomes too much to endure, My Lady."

She nodded, too breathless to speak. Victoria spread her legs as asked, and Lord Bedford nudged himself against her entrance. His other hand brushed against her maidenhood. Victoria trembled, and her hips bucked as if of their own accord. He pressed against her, and Victoria drew a shuddering gasp of air. Lord Bedford slowly pushed inside her. Victoria's inner muscles pressed tightly against him, every movement of her hips pushing him more deeply inside her.

Lord Bedford raised his arms, bracing himself against the shelf behind her. He shifted his hips, pushing himself in. Victoria groaned. She felt so strange and wonderfully full inside.

"Well done," Lord Bedford said. "Now, shall I show you how it feels to have a man satisfy himself with you?"

"Yes!"

Lord Bedford bucked his hips, moving his manhood in and out. Victoria groaned. The muscles in her stomach tightened. She moved more and more quickly, matching Lord Bedford's thrusts with her own. The ache inside her grew, too. Victoria tossed her head back and groaned. She felt consumed with her own need, desperate to feel more of him.

They moved in unison for what felt like a wonderful, blissful eternity. When Victoria thought that she could bear the tightness and need no longer, her muscles twitched, and her knees felt weak.

A wave of pleasure crashed into her, overcoming all her senses. White spots formed in her vision, and she felt boneless against the shelf. Lord Bedford bucked his hips, thrusting a final time inside her. Victoria felt a surge of hot liquid and gasped. Lord Bedford unsheathed himself, and Victoria remained pressed against the bookshelf, gasping for air. Her chest heaved.

"That was the most amazing sensation that I have ever felt in my life," Victoria gasped.

Lord Bedford pressed against her, his chest against hers. He gasped for air, his face flushed with exertion from their amorous congress. "I am glad," he rasped. "You were a marvel."

Victoria laughed between her pants for air. "Thank you."

"When will Lady Norwood be returning?"

"In three days."

Lord Bedford kissed her jaw. "Then, shall we go to bed?"

"I would like nothing more than that."

Lord Bedford effortlessly swept her into his arms, and Victoria let herself melt against him. She had never felt such desire in her life, and she hoped—dearly hoped with all her heart—that he might be prepared to propose to her. Even if it meant drawing her stepmother's disappointment, Victoria could think of nothing she would desire more than Lord Bedford as her husband and the love of her life.