Page 31 of Taming of the Rake
She gave a silent nod in response, freeing David to beat a hasty retreat. Once out of sight, he set off at a run, curiosity and the need to keep his mother and sisters from discovering Regina propelling him along.
Fresh energy spurred his every step as he tore into his room, startling his valet. The man had anticipated his arrival and had hot water and fresh clothes waiting. David scrubbed himself from head to toe, until he no longer smelled like a butcher’s shop. The valet returned just in time to help him hastily dress.
When he returned downstairs, he noticed Mrs. Moffat lingering outside the drawing room, peering through a crack between the parted doors. At the sound of his cleared throat, she flinched and whirled to face him, a hand clapped over her mouth and guilt in her eyes.
David chuckled. “And just what are you doing, Mrs. Moffat?”
Lifting her chin, she sniffed. “Just wanted to lay eyes on the lady, is all. I’d begun to think she was a ghost, what with the way people speak of her and hardly anyone even knows what she looks like. Pretty little thing, even with that hair.”
He offered no verbal response, though he wanted to argue that it was Regina’s hair and those adorable freckles that made her so alluring. However, the last thing he needed was for Mrs. Moffat to go running to his mother, mentioning that David found their neighbor attractive. Especially since everyone in the county knew how wealthy she’d been made with the death of Mr. Hurst. His mother would begin talk of courtship and marriage once it was appropriate, and David didn’t have the energy or patience to talk his way out ofthat.
“Please see that we are not disturbed.”
Ignoring the raised eyebrows of Mrs. Moffat, David strode inside, quickly fastening the door behind him. Regina graced an overstuffed, high-backed armchair as if it were a throne, even though her feet just barely touched the floor. Her starched skirts were neatly arranged, her posture impeccable, her expression serene save for the uncertainty in her eyes as she looked up at him. She had taken off her hat, exposing the neat order of her titian hair, the stray coil kissing her cheek making him want to press his lips there.
Which was ridiculous. This woman had very clearly marked herself as one who didnotwish to be kissed, or touched, or have someone grace her with a thorough and satisfying fuck. More was the pity.
“I hope I did not keep you waiting too long,” he said, easing onto a loveseat perpendicular to her chair. “I didn’t think you would tolerate my presence with a day’s worth of work making a mess of me.”
Setting her teacup in its saucer, she gave him a bewildered look. “I don’t know many gentlemen who set their hands to actual work.”
“Yes, well, extenuating circumstances and all that. Why ask others to do what I will not?”
Her eyes narrowed just a tick, her gaze becoming more pensive as she set her cup aside and reached for a fresh one. “Can I pour for you?”
Pleasantly surprised for the offer, he nodded, though it was the tower of cakes and biscuits that caught his eye. The fare was simple, but not so embarrassing as what might have been offered had Regina called a fortnight ago. To David they looked like manna from heaven. He hadn’t eaten a thing since breakfast.
They exchanged banal remarks while she poured, asking him if he wanted sugar or lemon or milk. David watched her all the while, intrigued by her graceful motions and the delicate movements of her slender hands. They were as pale and unblemished as the rest of her—or, at least the parts of her he’d been allowed to see—a sharp juxtaposition to her stark black attire. Her cheeks were pink, and David wondered if she might be too embarrassed to broach the subject hanging between them. While he piled a handful of biscuits in his saucer and took his first sip of tea, she began to chatter about the drive here, and how glad she was for a break in the rain. David took that opportunity to devour three of the biscuits, which helped take the edge off his hunger. But then, he could take no more. If he didn’t push them toward the matter at hand, he had a feeling they would sit here all night.
“Regina … what are you doing here? While I would certainly never turn you away, I’m sure you understand how your visit might be perceived while we are both in mourning. As well, the more ignorant we keep people to our association, the better for the sake of your reputation. But, I do not think I need to tell you that. Which makes me think you came all this way for a reason, not just to gawk at me while sipping tea.”
The pink blossoms in her cheeks deepened to red and she stared down at her hands. “In truth, I wasn’t certain you would come tonight. I owe you an apology, David.”
He sat up straighter, the tea and biscuits forgotten. “Actually, I think I am the one who should apologize. You were very clear—”
“But I was not. I confess, I told myself we could get through this arrangement without such a conversation, but you aren’t what I first made of you. I think I rather misjudged you.”
She could not have shocked him more had she flung her tea in his face. Clearing his throat, David set his cup aside and leaned forward, holding her gaze. She held herself as she always did, with rigid, cold poise. But her eyes always gave her away. Just now she seemed to battle fear and anxiety, but there was something else. The glimmer of determination. Whatever she wanted to tell him required a great deal of fortitude on her part.
“I told you when we met that my job as your courtesan can be multi-faceted. If you need to confide something in me, you should feel free to do so. Your secrets are safe with me, Regina.Youare safe with me.”
A small smile edged her lips, then vanished. “I know that. At least, I do now. All my precautions were born of a fear that you might take advantage of my vulnerability. They were also born of experience. You see, my marriage to Mr. Hurst was not a happy one. It wasn’t even a contented one.”
“I gathered as much. I am sorry to hear it.”
She gave a slow shake of her head, eyes becoming unfocused as she stared across the room. Clenching her shaking hands in her lap, she took a deep, slow breath before replying. “I did not know him well before we married, but thought I had learned all I needed to know. He was handsome, well loved by his peers, charming. My parents were in favor of the match, my father in particular. He was very wealthy, you see, and our circumstances were dire. I was to be the salvation of our family, but I didn’t mind so much if Randolph was to be my husband. On the day he proposed marriage, he told me he loved me. I was young and had little experience with men. I believed him.”
David tried to imagine her as she might have been, that sweet rosebud mouth of hers more prone to smiles than frowns, the green of her eyes glittering with hope and life. Something within him reacted to the image with soul-stirring force, as he realized she was still quite young. Too young to be such a solemn, lonely creature.
“The night before the wedding, my mother came to me to explain how things should occur between husbands and wives in the bedchamber,” she went on, twisting and pulling at her fingers and avoiding his gaze. “A wife should obey and seek to please her husband, and never turn him away when he asks to be allowed his rightful attentions. It would be a very unpleasant task, but such was the price a woman must pay for the security of someone to care for her. If I wanted it to be over quickly, I must lie perfectly still and let him do as he pleased. This would make him happy, and all the better if I bore him a son as soon as possible. It would hurt the first time, but would become less painful eventually. She terrified me, but I told myself it would not be that way with Randolph. He had been so kind, and even kissed me a time or two. He was always gentle, so of course our wedding night wouldn’t be so horrifying as Mother had made it out to be.”
David swallowed, but couldn’t wash his mouth free of the bitter taste of foreboding. He knew where her story was going, and the realization made him cold with dread.
“Our wedding was small and simple, the breakfast attended by our families and closest friends. I spent the day both nervous and excited about what would happen when I was alone with him, though my mother’s words were never far from my mind. When the time came, I …”
“You do not have to do this,” he insisted. “Regina, you don’t have to tell me if you cannot bear to speak of it. I think I understand it well enough.”
She blinked, and a lone tear fell, her chin trembling as she finally looked at him, going on as if he hadn’t spoken. “He wasnotgentle or kind or patient. He became like a different man altogether. When I cried and told him it hurt, he insisted I would simply have to bear it. I was a virgin, it was supposed to hurt, and he had waited too long to have it ruined by my reticence. I tried my best to do as Mother told me, and lay very, very still, but it hurt too much. It seemed to go on forever, but could not have lasted more than a few minutes. Afterward, he told me it would get better and I would learn to enjoy it. I cried myself to sleep, alone. He’d gone back to his own bed.”
