“Geoffrey,” she said, her voice throaty with desire, “undress too. You cannot know how glad I am you came tonight.”
He held her against him and felt desire for her grow in him. She was almost as tall as he. She felt very different from Arabella. Not that he had ever held Arabella against him. But he had lain on her. She was very tiny, but she was warmly and softly feminine. She always made him feel protective. He wanted to be gentle with Arabella. He could never forget the world around him and abandon himself to his own pleasure with her. He was always conscious of the still, submissive body beneath his own. He was always aware that it was the marriage act he performed with her.
He did not want to think of Arabella. It was Ginny he needed tonight. He found her mouth with his and proceeded to explore her with eager hands. He pressed her more closely against him as he recalled the soft warmth of Arabella’s lips beneath his own the night before.
“Ah, Geoffrey.” Ginny was stretched out on the bed beside him in the adjoining bedchamber much later, her head in the crook of his arm. “What a wonderful lover you are. I declare you will quite spoil me for all others.”
“Mm,” he said, gazing at the canopy over their heads.
“You are going to stay all night?” she asked. “I swear that by morning I will be too exhausted to get out of bed. Will you mind?” She looked across at him archly.
“Mm?” he said with a start. “What was that?”
“I asked if you would mind my being unable to get out of bed in the morning,” she said. “Have I exhausted you so much already, Geoffrey, that you cannot think straight?”
“I was wondering if Ara . . . , if my w . . . It does not matter, Ginny. It is not important.”
“If she is at home eagerly awaiting your attentions?” Ginny said. “I think it unlikely. She was looking well-pleased with herself when I saw her earlier, a gentleman on each arm.”
Lord Astor turned his head sharply. “You have seen Arabella?” he asked.
She laughed. “That was the delightful pleasure I mentioned earlier,” she said. “Yes, I saw her, Geoffrey. Someone pointed her out to me. And what a great surprise she was. She is so small, a child merely. You should be ashamed of robbing the cradle so. But she seems quite firmly established with hercicisbei. You must be well-satisfied.”
“It was at the Pottier soiree you were singing?” he said, dismayed. He had an arm over his eyes. “And you saw Arabella. Good God!”
Ginny had turned over onto her side. “Are you ready to be revived yet?” she asked, placing a hand lightly on his chest. “You see how insatiable I am, Geoffrey? The first course is no sooner over than I am ready for the second. Shall I arouse your appetite too?”
Lord Astor had not moved. He had an image of Ginny as she had appeared earlier, beautiful and flamboyant, in the same room with Arabella, tiny, eager, and wide-eyed. And Arabella would have been watching Ginny and listening. Applauding. Unaware that Ginny was her husband’s mistress. And Arabella with a gentleman on each arm. Farraday? Hubbard? Lincoln? The gangly youth? Perrot? Someone new? And looking well-pleased with herself. Yes, he knew the look. He could well imagine it.
“I have to go home, Gin,” he said, pushing her hand away.
She pulled a face. “Oh, not so soon,” she said. “You said just a short while ago that you were going to stay the night. Just once more, Geoffrey. You cannot be in that much of a hurry.”
He caught her hand, which had strayed to his chest again, in a firm grip, leaned over her, and kissed her hard and dispassionately on the lips. “Another time,” he said. “I find I am not in the mood tonight after all. Thank you for the last hour. I needed it.”
“You really do not demand a great deal for all you pay me,” she said, pouting. “And Iamcomplaining. Does your wife take so much of your energy, Geoffrey?”
He sat on the edge of the bed and reached down for his clothes. “Spite does not suit you, Gin,” he said. “I will be back in a day or two to put you to work so that you may earn your keep. I had not realized you were quite so conscientious.”
Chapter 11
ARABELLA did not take George for his usual walk the following morning. Neither did she go downstairs to breakfast. She sent her maid down when she thought the meal would be over, to ask if she might wait on Lord Astor at his convenience. The answer came almost immediately. He was in his office and would be glad to see her.
Arabella had not slept the night before. Indeed, she had been up three separate times vomiting. She frequently felt nauseated and otherwise out of sorts on the first day of her month, but she had never been actively sick before. Nevertheless, even though she still felt wretched and at one remove from reality, she dressed with care and brushed her curls neatly. She had declined the services of her maid.
Lord Astor had settled to examine the books that he had had sent from Parkland. But he was quite prepared to set them aside for Arabella. He had been somewhat concerned when she had not come down either for her usual walk with George or for breakfast. It was possible that she was not well. He knew that some women suffered at that certain time of the month. He had wanted to go up to her room to see if she was unwell, but had been afraid of disturbing her sleep.
And he had remembered his feeling of the night before when he had arrived home very late. A feeling of guilt. Yes, quite undeniably and annoyingly, guilt. Even if he could not possess her, he had thought, at least he could have come home early and gone in to talk to her. He could have assured himself that she was not in any pain or discomfort. He could have sent down for laudanum if she was.
He had shaken off his feelings with some annoyance the night before and resisted the urge to tiptoe into her bedchamber to see her, late as it was. It was a relief now to know that she was up and asking to speak with him.
He rose to his feet with a smile when a footman opened the door for her. But the smile faded. His guess had been right. She was pale almost to the point of being haggard. He moved hastily toward her.
“Arabella,” he said, concern in his voice and on his face, “what is the matter? Are you sure you should be out of your bed?”
“I am quite well, thank you,” she said. She was standing very upright, her eyes looking straight into his, her jaw set firmly. Something in her tone and in her face made him stop and look more inquiringly at her.
“What is it?” he asked.
