Gentle conquest Page 4

  ***

  It had been decided-by the parents of the bride and by the groom's mother-that the couple would leave for Chartleigh immediately after the church ceremony. The wedding breakfast would proceed without their presence. Perhaps the countess felt that her elder son would not show to advantage at such a gathering, where lie would be very much a focus of attention and where lie might be called upon to speak in public. Perhaps the viscount felt that his daughter would not show to advantage for a very different reason. The attention focused her way might tempt her to say or do something outrageous. And though her behavior would no longer be his concern, he would feel the full shame of any vulgar display.

  Gloria wanted to travel with the earl's valet and Georgiana's maid in the baggage coach, but neither her brother nor his new wife would hear of her doing so.

  "One would almost think they did not wish to be alone together," Gloria said as she kissed her brother Stanley on the cheek before he handed her into the Chartleigh traveling carriage.

  Stanley chuckled and bent his head to whisper in her ear. "I wouldn't be surprised if you have not hit on the truth," he said. "See if they don't invite you to share their bedchamber tonight, sis."

  Gloria blushed hotly and scrambled into the carriage almost without the assistance of his hand.

  Georgiana and Ralph were being kissed by what seemed to be a whole host of people. Georgiana was enjoying the ordeal hugely. Lord Stanley Middleton actually had the effrontery to kiss her on the cheek, when her husband had not even kissed her face yet! She had met the younger brother only the day before. Dark like his sister, he was totally different from Chartleigh. He was three years younger-her age, in fact-but he had a great deal of swagger that made him seem older. He had eyed her appreciatively when being presented to her.

  She was kissed on the hand by Cousin Roger, Lord Beauchamp, whom she was just meeting for the first time. Not that she would have particularly noticed his gesture under the circumstances. But there was the way he looked at her-one eyebrow raised, something that was not exactly a smile raising one corner of his mouth. A handsome devil. Familiar, too. Yes, of course. He had given her just such a look when she had emerged from the bushes with Ben a couple of months before at some ball or other and come face-to-face with him and another female, obviously bent on the same clandestine business. Georgiana grinned at this kindred spirit, the first public slipping of her mask for a whole month.

  Finally they were in the carriage and on their way. What a relief it was to have Gloria with them, Georgiana thought. She did not wish a private three-hour t?te-a-t?te with her husband just yet. It would take three hours to reach Chartleigh, she had been told. She settled herself meekly into one corner of the seat on which she sat beside her husband, careful not to touch him, careful that her profile was half-hidden from him behind the large poke of the pink frothy bonnet that Mama had insisted was perfect for the occasion. She made polite conversation with her two companions, reliving every minute detail of the wedding, wringing every possible comment out of the weather, exclaiming over every stone and blade of grass outside the windows, and generally working herself into a state of near-screaming boredom.

  She did not know if she was going to like her sister-in-law. Gloria was much older than Ralph and very severe-looking. Her mouth was a mere thin line on her face. She was faultless in her manners and there was a fondness in her eyes when she looked at her brother. But Georgiana could not imagine finding much in common with the older woman. And she knew for a certain fact that Gloria would not like her. She was just the sort of female who would be all thin-lipped disapproval when Georgiana stepped out of line. And that was bound to happen soon. She could not play this demure part for much longer. She would burst.

  She was beginning to feel decidedly uncomfortable as well as bored. What was this marriage going to be like? She had never expected a wedding trip into the country. Somehow she had assumed that they would remain in London. She was going to be thrown into Chartleigh's company rather a lot in the next two weeks. And there was still this bother of a wedding night coming up. She really did not feel up to it. Now, if he were Ben Greeley or even Dennis Vaughan, she could have talked quite openly about her virginity and lack of experience. They could have laughed and joked about her nervousness. One of those men could have jollied her along until she would have been over the nasty experience of the first bedding almost without realizing that it had happened.

  It was all going to be very formal and very earnest with Chartleigh. She could see that now. And she would die of humiliation if she were nervous and fumbling. She was not even quite sure what she was to do. He would kiss her first, of course. She could handle that with no trouble at all. But after that? Well, she thought in some agitation, replying mechanically to some comment Gloria made about the passing scenery, it would all be over in so many hours. This time tomorrow she would be past the only real hurdle she could see between herself and a comfortable existence, free of a nasty, disapproving father, free to live in any manner she chose.

  ***

  Ralph had offered his sister a place in his traveling carriage out of courtesy. He really could not consider allowing her to ride with the servants and the baggage. But it was irksome to know that three hours that he might have spent alone with his bride were to be spent instead in meaningless social conversation. He would have liked the opportunity to set Georgiana at her ease before they reached Chartleigh. She spoke during the journey, but only when spoken to. He noticed that she sat as far to the right of the seat as she could so that she would not touch him. He noticed that she hid her face behind her bonnet.

  Poor girl. She must be feeling very strange, alone with a husband she scarcely knew and a sister-in-law who was still a stranger to her. He longed to take her hand in his and squeeze it reassuringly. Instead, he talked more than was his custom in order to remove some of the obligation from her shoulders.

  In the familiar surroundings of his own carriage, with his sister sitting opposite him, Ralph nevertheless felt very strange. There was something very unreal about the fact that a girl who was now his wife sat next to him, that this was his wedding day, that he was taking his bride to his ancestral home to get to know her and to consummate the marriage. He felt a quickening of his breath at the thought-part excitement, part apprehension. He could scarcely wait to be alone with Georgiana. He longed to touch her, to quieten her fears. He wanted her. He did not believe his courage would fail him. He swallowed and turned away from her to look out at the passing countryside.

  ***

  Gloria had the tact to plead fatigue soon after dinner that evening. She retired to her own apartment, leaving her brother and his bride alone with their tea in the drawing room. Georgiana followed her upstairs a mere five minutes later at the suggestion of her husband, who told her, his eyes on the teacup that he held in his hand, that he would join her a little later.

  Georgiana was impressed with what she had seen of the house. From the outside it looked rather heavy, though definitely imposing, being almost square in shape and built of red brick in a Georgian design. But there was nothing heavy about the interior. The tiled hallway and the curving marble stairway that rose to the second floor and the main living apartments were large, light, and airy, and the few rooms she had seen gave the same impression.

  Her bedchamber was square and high, exquisitely decorated. Wallpaper, curtains, bed hangings, cushions: all were varying shades of pink. It was not normally Georgiana's favorite color, but the rich tones of these pinks defied insipidity. She would have liked to explore the rest of the house. She was not at all tired. lint of course, she thought, releasing a self-conscious giggle into the quiet emptiness of the room, she was not supposed to be tired. Sleep was not the purpose of this early retiring hour .

  She examined the large dressing room attached to her bedchamber and tried the handle of the second door in the room. It opened into another dressing room of similar size, decorated in blue. Through the open door of that room
, she saw another bedchamber. Her husband's. She suddenly felt her essential lack of privacy. Her room had always been somewhere she could go to be alone. She no longer had the right to be alone whenever she wished to be. There were not even any locks on either of the dressing room doors.

  Georgiana felt suddenly as if someone had punched her hard beneath the ribs. She rang for her maid.

  When Ralph tapped on the door between his wife's dressing room and bedchamber and opened it, it was to find her standing at the window, holding back the heavy curtain with one hand and leaning forward, her nose pressed against the windowpane. He was somewhat taken aback. He had expected to find her in bed, all but one or two of the candles extinguished. She wore a frothy white wrap that fell loosely from neck to hemline, but even so it suggested slimness and feminine curves. Her dark hair had been brushed out and fell in shiny waves halfway to her waist. She wore no nightcap.

  "It is difficult to see anything outside at night," he said, coming into the room and closing the door behind him. "Tomorrow I shall be pleased to take you riding around the park and farther into the estate if you wish, Georgiana.

  She let the curtain fall into place again and turned to face him. "Everyone but Papa calls me 'Georgie,' " she said.

  "Oh, no," he protested, smiling and coming toward her. " 'Georgiana' is too pretty a name to shorten. And the other makes you sound like a boy. It does not suit you at all."

  She smiled at him, her eyes sparkling for a moment. They gave a glowing life to her face that he had not seen before.

  "At least your name cannot be shortened," she said. "Do you wish me to use it, or would you prefer that I call you 'Chartleigh' or 'my lord'?"

  "Oh, please," he said, reaching out and taking her hand, "you must call me by my given name. You are my wife."

  She smiled that almost impish smile again. "So I am," she said. "Lady Georgiana Middleton, Countess of Chartleigh. It does sound grand. I do not recognize myself."

  She was enchanting. She must be covering up great nervousness. Her hand shook slightly in his and was very cold. He lifted it to his lips.

  "Nevertheless, it is true," he said.

  He released her hand and put his arms around her. He drew her against him and was instantly aware of the softness of her body and the fullness of her breasts against his chest. He was having difficulty with his breathing. He bent his head and kissed her.

  He did not know that he was holding her too tightly. He did not realize that the pressure of his lips was bruising hers against her teeth. He was embracing a woman for the first time, and that woman was his wife, whom he loved. He became aware only gradually that she was pushing urgently against his shoulders.

  "Not like that, Ralph!" she scolded. She seemed quite in command of herself. "Softly, so that we can feel each other's mouths. Like so.” Her lips came against his again, softly parted, barely touching, caressing, teasing.

  Ralph inhaled sharply, and pulled his head back. "You have done this before?" he asked.

  "Of course, silly!" Her eyes laughed into his and then looked down at his li again with some eagerness. Then she pulled sharply away from him and her hand flew to her mouth. "Oh!" she said, her eyes looking stricken. "You have not?"

  He looked back at her, his newfound confidence and protectiveness badly shaken. He did not answer.

  "Well, it is no matter," she said with practical cheerfulness, grasping his hand and drawing him toward the bed. "They were just stupid kisses anyway, and did not signify. Do you extinguish the candles, Ralph, and I shall get into bed."

  He did as he was bidden, blowing out the last candle as he sat on the edge of the bed. He took off his dressing gown and climbed under the bedclothes beside his wife. She was lying on her side. Her arms came around him.

  "I have been very nervous about this, you know," she said candidly. "One looks at all the married couples around one and knows that it is the most natural deed in the world. But there is still something very embarrassing about lying with one's husband for the very first time. I am not even quite sure how it is done, you see. You must just bear with me if I am very awkward. I shall try, at least, to lie still and not to cry or scream. Would not that be a dreadful humiliation? All the household would know the exact moment at which you deflowered me. Oh, I am prattling. I always do that when I am frightened, though as for that, I sometimes prattle even when I am not. I am not scared very often, really, as you will discover when you know me better. It is only the unknown that sometimes unnerves me. Oh, Ralph, do something!"

  She was frightened after all, he realized. She had been kissed before, but she really did not know any more than he. She needed calming, reassuring. Ralph turned onto his side and pulled her body against his. She wore now only a thin nightgown. Her body felt almost naked against his, and very warm. He felt heat surge through his own body and the blood pulse through him. He reached down, grasped a handful of the froth that was her nightgown, and pulled it up. She lifted her hips from the bed until the material was bunched around her waist.

  She turned onto her back as he lifted himself above her and lowered his weight. His head was buzzing. His blood sounded like the pounding of drums in his ears. Her legs parted as soon as his own came down on them. He lay between her thighs and obeyed a blind instinct to thrust upward and into her. He felt soft, warm flesh, brought down shaking hands to hold her, and pushed urgently against the softness.

  "Oh, do have a care, Ralph," a distressed voice said over the drumming in one ear. "You are hurting me."

  He lifted his head immediately, pulling his hands from beneath her to brace his weight above her. He looked, stricken, into her face, which he could dimly see below him.

  "Georgians," he said, "I am sorry. I am sorry, love. I do not mean to hurt you."

  "Well," she said matter-of-factly," I daresay you didn't mean to. I should have kept my wretched mouth closed. I am so very afraid, you see. I daresay you do not know any better than I how this is best done. Do let us get finished with it. I shall not say another word, and I shall merely clamp my teeth together if you hurt me. I have heard it said that it does not hurt after the first time. Do continue."

  Ralph lowered his weight onto her again and buried his face against her hair. He was burning with distress for her, and with shame at his own fumbling inadequacy. He must try to proceed without giving her any more pain. But the determination brought with it the sure and humiliating knowledge that it was no longer possible for him to proceed.

  He lay still on her for agonized minutes and finally lifted himself away and off the bed. He bent and found his dressing gown in the darkness.

  "I am sorry, Georgiana," he said. "I… We both need rest, I think. You must be very tired. I… Please forgive me. Good night."

  He left her room, finding his way in the darkness with the instinct of near-panic.

  CHAPTER 4

  A STUFFY NOSE awoke Georgiana the following morning. Her mouth was dry, her face stiff. Goodness, she had slept after all. She had given up trying to fall asleep when dawn was already making a lightened square behind the curtains. What time was it now? she wondered. She did not feel as if she had slept for long. Her head was aching. And she doubtless looked a positive fright. She had not even got up during the night to bathe away the effects of her tears. She probably had puffy red eyes, at the very least. But there was no knowing. She never cried.

  She had not cried at first. When Ralph had stumbled from the room, she was bursting with anger and contempt. How dare he leave her like that, the deed undone, the embarrassment to live through all over again the next night! She had been hurt and humiliated. What a wedding night! How her friends would laugh if they knew.

  She had been perfectly right about him the first time she set eyes on him. He was a boy merely, a weakling. He had never even kissed before! And he had not the slightest inkling of how it was to be done. She had been forced to wrestle him away from her in order to protect her ribs from being crushed and the inside of her mouth from being cut t
o ribbons by the pressure of her teeth. And she had almost fainted; her nose had somehow become trapped against his cheek.

  And that performance in the bed-or, rather, Georgiana thought with indignation, the lack of performance! She had no objection to the haste with which he had tried to come to her. She had been decidedly jittery herself and merely wanted the awful deed at an end. She had not been looking for a grand sensual experience. She had wanted only to know what exactly the dreaded act was and what her part in its accomplishment was to be.

  But he had hurt and hurt her, and he had not even broken her virginity. That, at least, would have been pain in a good cause. And then, when she had pointed out his clumsiness to him in the most reasonable manner, he had stopped altogether, lain still on her until she was about to scream at him to get the business over with, and then got up and left her. No, he had got up muttering abject apologies and rushed from the room like a frightened schoolboy.

  And that was just what he was. She had married a scared little boy who displayed not one spark of manliness. Oh, this was going to be a martyr's game of a marriage, she decided. She would be fortunate if she did not end up going to her grave at the age of eighty-two or thereabouts as virgin as the day she was born. He would be eighty-five, if he lived that long-and he probably would-just to spite her.