Page 62 of The Danger of Desire
“Lindenwood Castle is only a day’s drive from London,” Clarissa said, with a squeeze of Delia’s shoulders. “You can come stay with me anytime you like.”
“And doesn’t Lord Knightford have a property in Shropshire?” Brilliana said. “Why, that’s only a short drive from Camden Hall.”
“It’s a hunting b-box,” Delia blubbered. “He only goes there withmen.”
“Never fear,” Clarissa said soothingly. “That is sure to change now that he’s no longer a bachelor. He’ll want to stay at home in the country, all cozy with his wife, while he entertains his friends. The way Edwin does.”
Despair swamped Delia. Much as she liked Clarissa’s husband, he and his friends weren’t remotely similar to Warren in their habits. She couldn’t even be sure that Warren wouldn’t continue his whoring. After all, he’d made her no promises on that score. He’d merely said that his “bachelor life” wasn’t “as much fun as it looks” and that it didn’t “matter anymore.”
That hardly sounded like he meant to halt it.
Oh, Lord, she’d been so intent on figuring out what would happen to Camden Hall that she hadn’t even thought to ask if he meant to be faithful to her. What if he didn’t? Could she bear sharing his bed knowing that he would blithely leave it to go to another’s?
She had to find out what he intended, or she would go mad worrying about it. “Have either of you heard when my aunt and my... fiancé will be returning from London?”
Clarissa exchanged a glance with Brilliana. “Not yet. But I imagine it will be in the evening. They’ll have lots to do before they return.”
Delia nodded. And she had lots to think about before then, too. “Are we done deciding about the gown and flowers?”
“Yes,” Brilliana said. “Why?”
“I should like to go for a walk, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course,” Clarissa said. “We can all use a stroll. You two haven’t yet seen our folly, have you? The one that Stoke Towers is named for? I simply must show it to you. It’s a perfect little triangular Gothic tower with turrets at each point. Edwin’s grandfather built it back in 1765 in tribute to his late wife. You’ll adore it. Wait—what do you think of holding the wedding there?”
“What a grand idea,” Brilliana exclaimed, “assuming it’s large enough and the weather is fine. But that will make a great deal of trouble for your servants, don’t you think?”
“We could keep the breakfast here in the manor, and just have the ceremony there. It could be quite fun if we—”
“Forgive me,” Delia broke in. “I need to go for a walkalone. To clear my head.”
The two women blinked at her as if she’d just proposed lopping off her arms. Then Clarissa nodded. “Whatever you wish. But you could still see the folly. Just take the path behind the house that leads past the knot garden.”
“I will, thank you,” Delia said, and turned to leave.
“Wait!” Brilliana called out. “Before you go, do you have any questions about... well... what to expect on your wedding night? I know you and I have discussed it in the past, but—”
“You explained it admirably, thank you.” Delia couldn’t bear to hear more depressing comments about how a woman must endure a man’s attentions. Especially after Warren had shown her that kissing could be so much better than she’d expected or experienced. “I believe I’m ready for that, at least.”
What a lie, she thought as she left the two women and headed outdoors. She wasn’t remotely ready. Not because she feared it; Warren had made it clear that he was very good at satisfying a woman inthatarea of marriage.
It was her inability to satisfyhimthat worried her. He was used to seductive, beautiful courtesans who were paid to know just how to pleasure a man. Or randy wives with plenty of experience in the bedchamber.
A sense of hopelessness seized her as she walked down the path past the garden. What if she did everything wrong? What if he found her terribly stupid at it? Would that make him go running back to the brothel or to some loose-living widow with more talent at pleasuring him?
And would she care if he did? This wasn’t a love match. They both knew it. From what she understood about gentlemen and ladies of rank, a fashionable marriage meant the gentleman went his own way while the lady went hers.
She swallowed. She didn’t want a fashionable marriage. Not with him. They were unfashionable in everything else. Couldn’t they be unfashionable in this, too?
The sound of footsteps behind her arrested her. Someone was following her, and she didn’t want a companion just now.
She increased her speed only to have the person behind her increase theirs, too. Without warning, an arm snagged her about the waist and jerked her to a halt.
Then her mouth was being smothered with a kiss, and the familiar scent of spicy cologne allayed all her fears. Warren. As if her thoughts had called him to her from some distant land, he’d returned.
His drugging kiss made every part of her body sing. Oh, Lord, but the man knew how to excite her. She could stand here all day just drinking from his mouth the way he drank from hers.
Here. In full view of the house.
