"Which color do you think? The blue is lovely, but I think that the violet is a bit more flattering. I should have ordered the violet."
Val watched as Katherine, indecision written on her face, fingered the material. Val smiled and wondered why Katherine was so unsure of herself today. Usually, Katherine made decisions in the blink of an eye, but today she seemed incapable of even the smallest of choices. They were busy making preparations for their forthcoming voyage, even though Katherine reported that James had yet to agree to the trip.
"Whatever is the matter with you today? This is the third time that you've questioned your purchases. It's not like you to doubt your decisions."
Katherine pondered Val's words for a moment and then discarded the material, surreptitiously glancing at the small doorway at the back of the dressmaker's shop. Grabbing Val by the hand, she pulled her to the corner furthest away from the entry and whispered, "Val, exactly how long should I expect to have to continue this, before James changes his mind? He is being remarkably stubborn. It's been four nights, and I am growing tired from my efforts. I long for a night of peaceful slumber."
Val choked back a snort of laughter at this confession. Evidently, James was milking the situation for all it was worth. She would not have thought him the type, perhaps Jack was rubbing off on him. "Don't worry about it, Katherine. I'm sure that he'll agree soon enough. He is just enjoying the perks of making you work for his gracious assent." A bit of lace caught Val's eye and she picked it up, wondering how it would look at the neckline.
Katherine scowled and complained, "Why is he being so difficult? I would have thought that one night would have been more than enough. The dratted man is making it impossible for me to sleep properly. I miss having him next to me."
Distractedly, Val murmured, "Mmhnn, just be patient, Katherine. James is an intelligent man; he has to know that you will not keep catering to his desires forever. Soon enough, he'll give you the answer that you want. That is, if wants to be able to experience this sort of persuasion again."
There was a momentary lull in the conversation and then both women started speaking at the same time.
"What do you mean, you miss him?"
"Val, why would he want to experience this again?"
Val's jaw dropped and she stared aghast at her friend. Closing her eyes for a moment, she fervently prayed that her suspicions were unfounded. The lace fell unnoticed back onto the table. "Katherine, how exactly have you been attempting to persuade James?"
"I have followed your suggestion, Val. I told him that there would be no marital relations until he consented to the journey."
"You what?" Katherine loudly shrieked.
When the seamstress poked her head out of the back room to see what the commotion was all about, Val regained her composure and gave a sheepish smile, "I'm sorry about that, Mrs. Eally. We were just discussing what shoes Katherine plans to pair with her blue dress."
Mrs. Eally spared them both a bemused smile and once again disappeared behind the door.
Frantically, Katherine whispered, "I just did what you told me to do. The whole thing would not be so very bad, but he's taken to sleeping at the fort. I must say, I am surprised at how childishly he is acting."
Groaning, Val covered her face with her hands. After a few moments, the groans turned to laughter, and soon she was clutching her sides with tears running down her face.
Katherine watched her friend's antics and grew a bit miffed. "I fail to see what is so amusing about the situation. I daresay that you gave me bad advice." She waited impatiently as Val calmed down and regained her breath.
"Katherine, I'm afraid that you misunderstood my meaning. I meant that you should … well, you should…that is to say… I meant that you should pleasure James in bed, not ban him from it. No wonder he has yet to agree. Honestly, I'm amazed that he has not throttled you."
A chill of dread ran down Katherine's spine, as the implications of Val's words sank in. Dear lord, she had really muffed this one. And, if she knew James, he was going to extract a heavy payment for her error. "Val, what am I going to do? Now, he'll never agree to the trip."
Val debated for a moment about the wisdom of breaking a confidence. Three days ago, Jack had revealed that James had purchased tickets for the voyage. Since she had assumed that James was just having a bit of fun at his wife's expense, Val had not disclosed this information to Katherine. After all, persuasion could be enjoyable for all of the concerned parties. Now that she knew the truth of the matter, it was a different story.
"Katherine, I shouldn't worry about the journey if I were you. James has already made arrangements. I think that your bigger concern is sorting out this misunderstanding."
At this news, Katherine was torn between relief and outrage. Momentarily, outrage won. "You mean he intended on going all along? The nerve of him. And you. You are supposed to be my friend, how could you keep this news from me?"
Dryly, Val answered her accusations, "Well, I did rather think that you were engaged in enjoyable activities. I had no idea that you had gotten the wrong end of the stick. Besides, I think that your biggest priority right now should be making your peace with James."
Calming down, Katherine worriedly bit at her lip. She could still hear and almost physically feel the coldness James' parting words, "Very well, suit yourself, madam. When you come to your senses, inform me."
"You are right, of course, Val. How am I ever going to get him to forgive me? "
Val thought about it for a moment and then gave a sly wink. "This time you will just have to use the right methods of persuasion. Now, where on earth has Millicent gotten to? She said that she just wanted a few minutes of fresh air."
Millicent slowly strolled back and forth down the dusty street. For the first time that she could ever recall, purchasing new clothing had left her bored. Perhaps it was because she already owned trunks full of clothing. Perhaps it was because the dressmaker had no new wares to offer. Or, perhaps it was because, for the last few days, all that she could think about was Mr. Bertrand Sparrow's kiss. Even the exciting prospect of a season in London had not been able to dislodge her fixation.
Millicent decided that she hated him. She hated him for making her feel things that she did not want to feel. She hated him for introducing her to pleasures that could never be sated. Bertrand was obviously a poor relation of Jack, and she was not going to settle for marriage to a poor relation. Of course, that was assuming that he would even offer marriage. A gentleman would have already done so, after taking the liberties that he had with her person.
But Bertrand was obviously no gentleman, as attested to by his not only omitting to proffer the obligatory proposal, but also his complete avoidance of her these past few days. Millicent stopped and stamped her foot in frustrated acknowledgment that she had keenly missed his constant presence by her side. She had grown accustomed to sparring with him at social events, and now found evenings dull. As she was fuming over the injustice of her situation, a hand reached out from the alley and yanked her into the shadows.
From the anonymity of the darkened alley, Bertie had been watching Miss Witherspoon for the past half hour, and debating with himself about approaching her. He had to admit that it really was quite cute the way she stomped around and muttered under her breath. He wondered what had her in such a snit, most likely she'd failed to get her way in something. Not for the first time, he asked himself why he was so attracted to the brat. Kissing her had been a major mistake. But, now that he knew the taste of her, he wanted more. Bertie silently cursed himself, even as he reached his hand out to grab her.
With a muffled, "Ooohmp!", Millicent suddenly found herself plastered against the chest of the very object of her thoughts. She blinked and noticed that he seemed just as surprised as she, to suddenly find herself in his embrace.
"What are you doing, you barbarian? "
"It's no good, duchess. I've tried staying away, but I'm damned if I can." Bertie maneuvered her further into the dark alley, so that any stray pedestrians would walk by unaware of their presence.
"Bertrand Sparrow, you can not simply yank me into dark corners, and expect me to like it. I insist that you let me go." Millicent made the mistake of looking into his eyes and reading the hunger there. Her words grew weaker, "I mean, really, this kind of thing just isn't done. You don't speak to me for days, and then you decide to assault me. I will not consort with a man of your social status. I can do better." By the time she reached the end of her protest, Millicent's words were mere whispers.
Millicent's insults destroyed the last remnants of Bertie's control and lit the fuse of his anger. "Is that so, duchess? Then try topping this with one of your approved beaus." He pulled her closer and roughly covered her mouth with his own.
This time he made no allowances for her obvious inexperience. Last time he had asked before taking, this time he just took. When she tried to protest, he used the opportunity to push past her lips and take even more.
Millicent felt as if her senses were being overwhelmed: sight, taste, and touch were filled with Bertrand Sparrow. When he emitted a small moan of desire, Millicent added sound to the list. His lips gave no quarter and she had no choice but to surrender what he demanded. Frankly, she had no desire to fight the invasion. Her breathing became labored and she clutched at his shoulders to support her unsteady legs.
Bertie roughly pushed Millicent back against the brick wall and leaned into her. He could feel the warmth of body and the erratic beating of her heart. One hand found its way to a breast and began kneading and stroking, drawing out the tip and lightly pinching it between his fingers. The other hand found her skirts and began hiking them up.
Feeling completely overwhelmed by the sensations that Bertie was eliciting, Millicent allowed herself to be swept away in a tide of desire. She could feel her body began to thrum with unmet demands. When Bertie's hand worked its way beneath her skirts, she felt no maidenly resistance, only an urgency to know what was to follow. As his hand began to caress her inner thigh, Millicent felt a wave of heat rush to the juncture between her legs, unconsciously she thrust her hips forward in mute appeal.
Bertie read the silent plea and was just about to fulfill the request, when the sound of passing feet drew him back into awareness of his surroundings. .My god, he was an idiot. An idiot, a cad, and a lecher. He was minutes away from taking this young woman up against a wall. In a public alley! Slowly and reluctantly, he withdrew his hand and smoothed her skirts down. When he pulled his lips and body from hers, she made a soft sound of protest.
For several minutes, they perched on the verge of jumping back into each other's arms.
The two of them continued to eye each other with a mixture of desire and burgeoning horror. Neither one knew what to say about their recent activities.
Millicent twisted the fabric of her skirts in her fists. Her experiences in life had not prepared her to handle situations like this one. It was not as if governesses taught young ladies what to say when they had just nearly been ravished ten feet from a public thoroughfare. Forcing herself to break the uncomfortable spell, she stepped around Bertie. She wanted to make a dignified retreat and leave him standing there, without uttering another word to him. However, temptation proved irresistible, and she could not refrain from saying, "I would appreciate it, Mr. Sparrow, if you would keep this incident to yourself. We would not wish to be forced into a union."
Although she had only spoken the very same thoughts that he had, Bertie felt his hackles rise at her cool dismissal and haughty tone. Strangely, he also felt a twinge of hurt and this lent an acidic quality to his reply. "Don't worry over it, duchess. I won't interfere with your plans to marry a wealthy and titled gentleman. I hope the cold hard coinage of his purse keeps you warm at night. But then again, it will only match the coldness of your mercenary little heart. Think of this afternoon as my contribution to your wedding night. A little something to contemplate about, as you lay back and think of England."
Stunned by the vitriol of his words, Millicent felt the tears begin to well up. Rapidly she blinked, and in vain tried to keep them from falling. Jerkily, she stepped forward and delivered a resounding slap to his right cheek. They both just stared at each other for a moment, before Millicent turned and fled, tears running freely down her face.
