A soft smile lifted her sister’s lips as she met her gaze. “Loving Marcus? More than I can put into words.”
Her heart constricted and she sat back. Though she often considered herself brave, she did not think she could ever give her heart to a man. Losing Belinda had been too difficult. Yet Mariel had lost not only the man she loved, but the older man she married as well. She was truly the most courageous of the family. “Do you think then that Teddy feels a great passion for Lady Elsbeth?”
Mariel clasped her hands, one thumb rubbing over the other as she thought through her answer. “I think he may. I also think that Lady Elsbeth looks kindly on him as well.”
“It is odd to think of Teddy as a husband.” She chuckled. “I still think of him like the baby bear we watched at Vauxhall last year, curious, excited, and awkward in his environment.”
“Yes, but baby bears grow to be ferocious bears. I think Teddy would protect his future wife with every breath.”
She tried to imagine her cousin scaring off other suitors, but couldn’t do it.
The coach came to a halt before Craymore Hall. They alighted and hurried into the house, the wind having gained strength since they left Fleet Street. The clouds had also covered the sun once again. If the season continued to be so cold, she may just have to take another look at that polar ice cap theory. Once inside, Channing took their cloaks and Mariel headed off to rest.
She, on the other hand, headed for the library. Stepping inside, she scanned the room to be sure no family members were present. Satisfied she was alone, she strode to her cabinet and taking the key from her reticule, she unlocked it and pulled out the duke’s book. Quickly, she locked her cabinet and went straight to her room.
The house was quiet as it darkened outside. It was time to spend a few hours reading. She was more than a little curious as to the knowledge she would gain from her pilfered tome. Once upstairs and in her room, she set the book down on her settee. Then she locked her door. She didn’t want any surprise visits. Lighting the oil lamp near her reading corner, she grabbed up the book and stretched out on the settee. She quickly flipped past the pages she’d already viewed. She clearly remembered the parts of the male and female anatomy with the large illustrations that labeled each area on pages three and four.
Lifting the next sheet of paper, she stared at the illustration on page five. There was no question what she was looking at. Her mouth went dry and her body heated. Pulling the neckline of her green day dress from her skin, she blew down on her chest, but never took her gaze from the page. Before her was an illustration of a naked man on top of a naked woman in what was labeled The Missionary position. After reviewing the initial pages and with her knowledge of how animals procreated, it was clear what was happening in the drawing.
Sothisis what men learned? She continued to blow on her chest as she turned to page six. It showed two clothed individuals, the man standing behind the woman, his head bent. Was he kissing her neck? The caption below stated, “There’s this.” That didn’t make sense. She turned back to page five. Below the drawing, the caption read “Before this.” Now it made sense. Turning to page six again, she studied the illustration. He was definitely kissing the woman’s neck, just below the ear. She could almost feel the touch like when Northwick had stood behind her and reached for the book above her. His breath had touched very close to that spot.
She snapped the book closed, her chest suddenly feeling very sensitive. Standing, she set it on the settee and moved to her dressing table where she’d left her fan from earlier in the day. Picking it up, she paced the length of her bedroom, cooling herself as she walked.
There was no question as to what the rest of the book would contain. She was only on page seven, but it was clear the illustrations would show how a man seduced a woman. It might even show the mechanics of mating. The question was, would it be better to remain ignorant? She didn’t plan to marry, so the knowledge would be of little use to her. Then again, she had learned about safety lamps for coal miners the other night, and she’d never have a need for those. The week before, she’d read a book of poems by William Wordsworth. Those she thought emotionally fulfilling at the time, but they weren’tneeded.
That meant her argument that she wouldn’t use the information was irrelevant. She stopped and narrowed her eyes at the book. It called to her like forbidden fruit. If she read it, would she be cast out of Eden like Adam and Eve? Would her innocence be gone, despite her still being innocent? She dropped her fan on her dressing table and set both hands, palms down upon it, staring at her reflection. “Mother and Father would be horrified. Teddy would think it a fine joke. Amelia would want to read it, too. Would Mariel already know all of it?” She didn’t like the idea that Mariel knew more than she did. Her father would call that hubris, and it was, but she couldn’t help her competitive nature in this one area.
She examined her face. “Are you ready to lose your innocence?” Would she look or feel different? Did it matter?
I thought you wanted to learn everything men learn.As Northwick’s words echoed in her mind, her resolve solidified. She would stand by her principles. Knowledge itself was power as Sir Francis Bacon had written.
Standing straight, she took a step toward the settee then halted. Turning, she pulled her fan from the dressing table then returned to the book. She reclined and put it on her lap. Maybe it could teach her how to avoid being seduced. Now that would be very practical. She flipped to page seven and found half of it was writing, the other half small pictures showing places to kiss a woman. She studied each one, determined to learn it all. Even having never been kissed at the crease of her elbow, below her ear, or at her temple, she found herself flushing with a mild heat. The explanation of these sensitive spots gave her pause. They were all so accessible. On the following page was another large illustration of the couple, the backs of the man’s fingers were on the woman’s cheek. She brought her own knuckles to her cheek. It didn’t feel any different than when she propped her head with her hand as she pondered an idea.
She moved on to page nine, which again had a lot of explanation and a number of small illustrations. Besides the fact a gentleman should never touch a woman’s skin unless she was his wife, none of the touches appeared particularly seductive except one. She studied the small illustration of a man’s fingers on the woman’s collarbone. Now that was a place that caused her to giggle as if she were nine again. For some reason, the spot tickled, so not a very advantageous place for a man bent on seducing her. Not that any had tried, but it was good to know what a touch like that was supposed to mean.
Turning to page ten, she viewed the full-page profile of the man and woman locked in an embrace, their mouths sealed to each other, his hands on her behind and hers encircling his neck, the fingers of her near hand splayed in his hair. The artist had their bodies touching their full length even though still dressed. She felt warm again, but didn’t pick up her fan. Northwick was lean and so much taller than her. He’d radiated heat as he stood behind her, the scent of bergamot and leather clearly filling the space. She’d never witnessed a couple kissing like this. Her mother occasionally kissed her father on the cheek, but nothing more. Then again, their days of seduction had probably ended after Amelia was born.
This page had no caption, but there was an explanation.If there is no fire in the kiss, no position, whether it be The Rider, The Butterfly, or any other will be satisfying.
Her breath left her. The Butterfly?
Northwick’s question whistled through her head.Tell me, do you like The Butterfly?
He knew!
Northwick knew she’d taken his book. Embarrassment washed over her, even as she sucked air back into her lungs. She pushed the book away, and it fell to the soft rug on the floor. Grasping her fan, she used it rigorously. Why else would he have asked her for no reason if she liked butterflies, no, not plural, one– the butterfly. He thought she’d read his book!
She jumped to her feet and stalked to the other side of the room where she turned to glare at the offensive tome on the floor. Not only did he know she took it, but he knew what it contained and assumed she’d read it. She spun around to face the wall. What must he think of her?
She clapped her free hand over her mouth. And she’d read from the other pamphlet out loud in front of him!
If only she could faint right now. A respite from her spinning, unrelenting mortification would be welcomed, but she had never been one to lose her senses. Besides, she’d probably hit her head on the dressing table if she did. She turned around again and leaned against the wall, fanning herself as she wallowed in self-flagellation. Belinda always warned her to harness her emotions and focus them on what was worthwhile. She did try, but she failed more than she succeeded.
“Belinda, I needed you to live. I know it’s selfish, but selfless, too, don’t you think?” Despite how carefully she listened, all she heard was the silence of her room and the steady fall of the rain against her windows in response. The scene was the opposite from the beautiful day in May two years hence when her beloved sister, under her own ardent and unrelenting care, slipped away from her. She had tried everything, even after the doctors shook their heads and walked away. She’d been so confident after Belinda made it through scarlet fever that she would live.
But she hadn’t. The heart of their family had died and left her floundering.
“Now look at what I’ve done, Bea.” She threw the fan down on the dressing table and dropped into the chair, shaking her head at herself in the mirror. There was no putting the book back now. No confessing she’d taken it. She’d just have to avoid Northwick. That hadn’t worked until now, so she’d just stay at Craymore Hall until he left London again. Yes, she’d remain here for the season. If he arrived for some unknown reason, she’d claim a migraine. She would be a hermit. No one would miss her. It wasn’t as if she had any marriage prospects or wanted any.
