Regency Society. Ann Lethbridge
a billet-doux, nor would he today. ‘Normally, I would wish to send something immediately. But she has given no address. And after several hours in her company, I still have no idea what to call her, for she would not even give me her first name. If she wishes to shroud herself in mystery, I have no objection. But for punishment, she may wait in ignorance of my feelings until I see her tonight.’
Emily paced the front hall of the rented flat, unable to contain her agitation at the thought of the evening’s meeting. She had waited nervously for some response from her husband. In the afternoon there had come a hurried note, directly from Hendricks, that she could expect a visit that evening. But there had been no mention of Adrian’s reaction, whether he was angry, elated or indifferent.
She was both relieved and annoyed by this. While it was flattering to think that her rejection had not dampened his interest, she could not manage to forget that her husband thought he was rushing to a stranger with the intention of betraying his wife.
But then she remembered the feelings she had experienced on the previous evening. The things he had done to her were so different than his behaviour during the first week of their marriage that she could hardly believe he was the same person. If a revelation of her identity meant that they would be returning to the country for a life of such sterile conjugation, she much preferred being the mysterious object of his infidelity.
Promptly at eight, there was a knock on the door. Before the servant could arrive, she had opened it herself, and pulled Adrian into the hall with her.
At first he resisted, unwilling to be helped. But then he recognised her touch and submitted to her, fumbling to help with the closing of the door once he was through.
Before she could speak, he had seized her, the cane in his left hand bracing vertically along her spine as he kissed her. It was long and hard and unyielding, holding her body against his as he reached between them to unbutton his top coat with his right hand. With the open coat shielding them from observation, he began a careful examination of her dress with his fingers. ‘A dinner gown tonight, my dear? Afraid to risk the nightdress again, I see. But what is this, here amongst the net and beads?’ His hand cupped her breast. ‘You have not bothered with stays. That is a welcome thing to a sightless man. I can read your response to my arrival with a touch.’
‘You are terribly forward,’ she said, but made no effort to remove his hand from her body as it brushed against her sensitive nipple.
‘I am,’ he admitted. ‘And I had meant this evening to put you at your ease with my good manners. Already, I have failed.’
‘It does not matter. I am happy that you returned. And for last night, I am sorry.’
His fingers left her breast and unerringly found her lips, and he laid one against them to stop the apology. ‘It is I who must apologise. I was the one who offered insult. I treated you as I would treat someone who meant nothing to me.’
‘Which is how it should be. You barely know me.’
‘Now, perhaps. But I would like to know you better.’ His head bowed to rest against hers, forehead to forehead. ‘You could not understand my reasons for behaving as I did. And I gave you no reason to try. I thought only of my own needs, which were urgent, and offered no explanation for it.’
‘It is all right. It does not matter.’
‘It does. I hurt you. I made you feel that you are not worthy of love. But that is not the case.’
Emily laid a hand on the front of his vest, over his heart, and he clasped it there. They stood for a time, just like that, as though it had been ages since they had been together, and not hours. And for her, it had been. For how could a few evenings fill the void created by three years apart?
And as she thought of their marriage, she could feel the old breathlessness coming back, the terror of doing something wrong in his presence and spoiling this sudden intimacy. At last, she murmured into his lapel, ‘Supper?’
Adrian groaned in frustration and tightened his arms upon her. ‘Might it be possible to take light refreshment, and to sit before the fire? And I truly mean that we will talk tonight before anything else occurs between us. But you needn’t keep me at arm’s length across a table to ensure my good behaviour.’
It surprised her to find him as intimidated by a formal meal as she was in talking to him. ‘Very well. I will have the servants lay something simple for us, if that is what you wish. Come.’
She led him to the couch, and arranged for a tray of cold meats and bread to be brought to them, along with wine and fruit. And then she sat down beside him, and offered him a grape. ‘Do not think for a moment to deny me the pleasure of helping you.’
‘If it means that you will sit close beside me and let me kiss the crumbs from your fingertips? Then of course.’ He took the fruit from her hand, and said with a full mouth, ‘And while I eat, you will tell me about your husband.’
‘And … why would I do that?’ She hurriedly offered him more food, wishing that there were a way to get him to the table again so that they could be equally uncomfortable.
He smiled back at her and wiped the corner of his mouth with a napkin. ‘I will admit, there is an allure in an anonymous coupling. And a decided lack of guilt at parting from a stranger. But it has been a long time since I have been willing to play the fool for a woman. When I left here, I wanted to be angry, to blame you for all of it, and dismiss the incident from my mind. But I have brooded on it for most of last night and the better part of today as well. I want to know the meaning of your words.’
‘What did I say that you did not understand?’ She took a fortifying sip of wine.
‘You seemed more offended that I feared to get you with child than you were with the implication that I might think you poxed. You may tell me that I have no right to enquire, but it makes me wonder at your motives in lying with me, and fear that you are seeking something other than pleasure. If you cannot give me a suitable explanation, than I must leave you.’ He took her hand, and squeezed it. ‘But I very much want to stay.’
Emily leaned back in her seat and took another sip of wine. It was as good a time as any to explain to him, she supposed. ‘To make you understand, I must tell you about my marriage. My husband and I were together for but a brief time. And while we resided under the same roof, he barely spoke to me. As a matter of fact, he seemed to avoid my company.’
He gave a grunt of dismissal. ‘I cannot believe it.’
‘In his defence, I barely had the nerve to speak in his presence. I was quite in awe of him.’
‘This surprises me,’ he said. ‘You seemed fearless when I first met you. You have a direct and intelligent manner of speaking that is most refreshing.’
‘Thank you.’ She coloured. For while the compliment was delivered unawares, it was welcome.
He traced a finger along her cheek. ‘Of course, were I married to you, conversation would have been the last thing on my mind.’
‘Oh, really. And what would be the first?’
‘Getting you to bed, of course. Just as it was when I met you.’
‘Then you are obviously not the man I married,’ she said, ‘for on the three times he visited my room—’
Adrian’s brow furrowed. ‘Three times?’
‘Yes.’
He laughed. ‘You mean in the first night, of course.’
She grimaced. He did not even recognise himself in the quite obvious clue she had given him. ‘I mean in total. I remember it distinctly. How many women can, after several years of marriage, remember the exact number of conjugal visits and count them on less than a hand?’
‘That