Page 11 of A Viscount’s Reluctant Passion

Chapter Five

Bea woke slowly the next day, from dreams of intoxicating kisses, and pleasure that she had never imagined possible. She lay in the bed, and slipped her fingers up to brush over her nipples, amazed at the sensations which Lord Challoner had caused in them the previous night. Even just thinking about it, they hardened beneath her fingers, and she gasped.

She had wondered why people seemed so obsessed by the physical acts of the bedchamber – for, growing up in the country, she had seen animals rutting in the fields – if that was all there was to it, it had appeared a rather simple and perfunctory activity. Now, in one short interlude, she had been given an insight into the reasons behind it all. If the pleasure she had felt was any indication, what people did was very much different from what animals did, and seemed to have the scope in the pleasure it granted to be rather addictive, to say the least.

She knew that she wanted to explore it all, more.

But… did he care for her? Or was his interest purely lustful? She felt confused – they had now kissed twice, most intimately, yet he had said nothing of his affections for her… and the fact that she desired him, that she suspected she was coming to love him, was not enough to, in any way, guarantee that he would return those feelings.

Yet, if he kissed her again, touched her again, like that, would she deny him, even if it was only lust? She did not know, she was ashamed to admit. Perhaps she was a wanton, as people had suggested her mother had been. The thought was disturbing. She pushed the ideas away for later consideration. Perhaps, if he called upon her, he might declare his intentions? And then all of her confusion would be unnecessary.

~~~~~

Nash had been long in finding sleep, his body aching and his desire unabated – just the thought of her, the memory of her tender flesh beneath his lips, was enough to keep him hard. That, and her words, just before they had parted on the terrace, which implied that she welcomed his advances, in a way that a respectable young lady really should not.

But by the light of morning, with the heat of desire no longer throbbing through him, the whole thing seemed madness. She deserved far better than surreptitious groping behind rose trellises. She deserved a man whose position in society was unassailable, whose title was not a temporary thing, pending his brother’s production of an heir, a man with not just wealth, but position, who could forever protect her from the spiteful gossips. In short, a man that was not him.

Yet even as he told himself so, he yearned to see her again. Would he call upon her? Not today – he must be strong, if he was to stay away, to allow her the life she deserved, rather than leading her astray in the worst possible manner. But perhaps soon? Or would he see her at another social event? If he did, he must be certain not to dance with her, and not to go anywhere near a terrace with her!

He rose from his bed, and went about his day as usual, attending to all of the correspondence related to Chase’s estates – estates which were beginning to suffer a little from his absence, he suspected, after the last years of his close attention. The work was soothing, distracting him from thoughts of Miss Wormsley, for as much as a half hour at a time.

Most of the correspondence was routine – reports of the preparations for this year’s harvest, details of expenditures, and of new staff required, and the like. Until he reached the last letter in the pile for the day. It was from Chatham, the butler at Harringdon Park, the smaller property which was his own, should he choose to live there. Which, at present, he did not. But he kept the place ready at all times, for if Chase finally decided to marry, Nash wanted his own space.

The letter was short, but its contents deeply disturbing. The silverware was going missing, and perhaps some other items. Small things at first, but now some larger ones. And there were no new staff, no changes which might present a clear picture of a suspect. Chatham respectfully requested that Lord Challoner come to Harringdon Park at his earliest convenience, to address the matter.

Nash stared out the window, seeing countryside, not the London street that was before him.

He would have to go, and immediately. He would not allow such a thing to continue, in any property under his management – it was unthinkable. He tidied the papers to one side, quickly penned a reply to Chatham, telling the man to expect him within two days and, having sent it off with a footman, took himself upstairs to tell Bilton, his valet, to pack everything – for if he went to Harringdon Park now, he would most likely not be returning to London until after summer’s end, at the earliest.

With everything set in motion, he ensured that he was suitably attired for calls, and went back downstairs. As he did, he discovered Chase, yawning, on his way to the breakfast room – quite early for him, as it happened. The Marquess of Travers had never been one to rise at all early.

“Chase, well timed. I will be leaving here this afternoon, for Harringdon Park – I have received an urgent summons to deal with some business there – so you will have to rub along without me. I doubt I’ll be back here before winter closes in, or longer. I will attempt to return for the last Ball of the Season, but I cannot guarantee it. For now, I have a call to make, before I leave.”

Chase considered him with a raised eyebrow.

“A call to make… to one Miss Wormsley, I would guess?”

His brother’s voice was full of amusement, and Nash felt himself flush a little. But he met Chase’s eye, defiantly, and nodded.

“Indeed. It would be impolite of me to leave without bidding her goodbye.”

Chase smiled, and shook his head a little. “Off with you then. I would not hold you back from doing your noble duty.”

Nash swept him a mocking bow, and turned to go. Noble duty indeed! Given the previous evening, and his thoughts of Miss Wormsley moaning with pleasure in his arms, there was nothing noble about it. But he certainly wasn’t about to admit any of that to his rake of a brother.

As the carriage took him towards Blackwood House, he realised that he had no idea what he would say to her when he got there. Perhaps this summons to deal with thefts was for the best – if he was not in her presence, he could not be tempted – tempted to care too much, and to open himself up for rejection and pain of the worst kind.

He would bid her farewell, and leave, allowing her to go on with her life, to find a suitable man to marry.

It was the right thing to do – so why did the very idea of it make him feel hollow?

Coming back for the last Ball of the Season was perhaps, not a bad idea after all…

~~~~~

Bea was sitting in the parlour, reading, when Lord Challoner was announced. She put the book down, her heart beating hard, and asked the butler to show him in, to send in a maid as chaperone, and to call for tea.

Not, she thought, that she really wanted a chaperone. She would far rather be completely alone with him… and kissed by him, and more. Her own thoughts shocked her – perhaps she really was a wanton?