A Scandalous Wife, Page 3

Every morning for the last fortnight, Lydia awoke to find herself yet again alone in their bed. Her nights were spent in passionate pleasure, wrapped in her husband’s embrace, but her mornings were spent in lonely solitude. It had been so comforting to wake in Robert’s arms while they were traveling the countryside together, and she missed that closeness with him.

  When they were together, she could fool herself into believing her husband loved her. He could be so sweet and tender, and she found that pretending was easy to do. What was the harm in hoping for such a thing? He did want her to live with him and to raise their children together. Did it really matter if he only liked her? Was love absolutely necessary? It wouldn’t be as if Lydia was missing something she’d ever had. And yet part of her yearned for more. She wanted his heart as well as his home.

  With thoughts of her marriage flooding her mind, Lydia climbed from bed. She rang for her maid Betsy, and began to unbraid her hair. Betsy had been a godsend, and Lydia felt very lucky to have her. The young, plucky, brunette maid was always full of advice, unsolicited or otherwise—but she and Lydia had formed a bond almost instantly as if they’d always known each other.

  When the maid entered the room, her brows rose in surprise. “Well, well, well. Looks like you had a busy night in here, my lady.” She gestured to the tousled bedclothes that had nearly been ripped off the night before.

  Lydia flushed a bright red. “Betsy, watch yourself. What would Lord Masten say if he heard you say such a thing?”

  Betsy smiled broadly. “Well, since his lordship is always out and about at the crack of dawn, I don’t think there’s much chance he’ll hear me say such a thing.”

  “You are insolent.” Lydia laughed.

  “Yes, and that’s why you love me. Now, Dunsley says you’ve received a letter from that crusty old vicar, Mr. Lovelace.”

  Lydia nodded. “He must be responding to my invitation to dinner.”

  “A dinner can only be so much fun with that old stick and his harpy wife.”

  “Betsy!”

  “You’ve yet to meet him, my lady. And you can mark my words, they’ll be a drain on that party you’re havin’. Now, into the tub with you.”

  After Betsy bathed her and dressed her hair, Lydia made her way back down through the maze of passageways to the dining hall. Dunsley awaited her presence. “His lordship has gone out to the tenant farms today.” Then he sat her at the massive table and offered her an envelope on a silver salver.

  Lydia smiled in response and opened the letter. The vicar, Mr. Edward Lovelace, and his wife had happily accepted her invitation to dinner. That made four couples she was to host—Mr. and Mrs. Lovelace; Sir Philip Cressley, the local magistrate, and his wife; Lord and Lady Edgecroft, whose property bordered Robert’s to the west; and Mr. and Mrs. Vaughan, neighbors that Caroline had apparently been close to at one time. Lydia was beyond nervous about hosting this dinner. She wanted so badly to be accepted by these people, to find a place for herself in this community, to prove herself to Robert, and make him proud of her.

  She knew Robert didn’t understand her anxiousness about the event. He’d shaken his head at dinner the night before, and mumbled something about silly female nerves. He couldn’t possibly understand her fears and concerns in this regard. He was known and accepted in the community; she was an outsider. Until now she had never stood shoulder to shoulder with her husband in society. This was important.

  After just a few days at Gosling Park, Lydia had discovered her late mother-in-law’s gardens. If they weren’t the most spectacular in Dorset, she would be amazed. There were beautifully sculpted topiaries, a hedgerow maze, and more flowering plants than she could possibly name. She had never been more aware of her inexperience as a gardener until she walked through Gosling’s garden and couldn’t identify even half the plants that resided there. Despite her ineptitude in gardening matters, this was her favorite place at Gosling. She often found her way to a secluded stone bench surrounded by stunning topiaries. The gardens were soothing and flooded Lydia with a feeling of serenity whenever she was there. 

  Today when she stopped at her stone bench and sat down, she did so with a feeling of anticipation. Petey and Penny were to arrive tomorrow with Mrs. Norris and Miss Mitford, their new governess. She was certain the children would love Gosling Park, and then her days would be filled as well as her nights.

  She tipped her head back to the cerulean sky, closed her eyes, and basked in the warmth of the sun.

  “Watch yourself,” a smooth male voice said from behind her. “You don’t want to get freckles. Most unbecoming on a countess.”

  Lydia knew that voice and she winced. Her heart pounded feverishly and she suddenly felt dizzy. Slowly, she opened her eyes and spun around.

  Blast it! Of all people in the world.

  Luke Beckford stood right behind her. Lydia’s mouth fell open in shock. He was even more devastatingly handsome than when she first laid eyes on him all those years ago. His golden hair hung rakishly across his brow and his haunting green eyes seemed as if they could see straight into her soul.

  When her face flushed red and she took a deep intake of air, Luke laughed with an easy charm. “It’s been a long time, Lydia.”

  “Mr. Beckford!” she managed to choke out. “Good Heavens! What are you doing here?”

  With a heart-melting grin, Luke raised his brow. “What a warm reception from my dear sister-in-law.” Then he patted his coat pocket. “King Robert has summoned me, and like the good subject I am, I’ve answered his call.”

  Summoned him? What would possess Robert do such a thing? Luke was certainly the last person Lydia wanted to see, now or ever. How was someone to act around their one-time lover and now brother-in-law? It was hard enough to live down her past without Luke hanging about.

  Luke offered Lydia his arm, which she regarded with the warmth of an approaching asp. Again Luke laughed. “I promise not to bite, Lydia—unless, of course, you ask me to.”

  She scowled at him. “At the risk of being rude, Mr. Beckford, I think I’ll remain here. Following you got me into a spot of trouble last time. Besides, I don’t think my husband would approve.”

  Luke sank onto the bench beside her and smiled—that charming smile of a rogue that never failed to melt women’s hearts or lead them into trouble. “Oh, Robert never approves of anything, my love. So, tell me, however did you break out of Blackstone? Chisel and hammer? Or something more dastardly? Really, I’m dying to find out.”

  She was not going to do this. She was not going to have this conversation with this man! Not here, not ever. Abruptly, she stood up and backed away from her brother-in-law. “Forgive me, but I have things to attend to. Good day, Mr. Beckford.”

  Quickly she started down the garden path toward the manor house, but Luke easily caught her, snaring her waist in his hands. “Not so fast, Lady Masten.”

  Lydia turned in his arms to look up at him. The man was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. He was so strikingly handsome and looked like a perfect gentleman, but he was the devil incarnate—and she knew that first hand. “Unhand me this instant, you cad!”

  Immediately, Luke released her, with just a ghost of a smirk on his face. “We’re not yet finished, Lydia, you and I.”

  “We were finished when you abandoned me to your brother’s wrath.”

  “That hasn’t been such a bad deal, has it? I mean, the fool did marry you. You’re now the Countess of Masten—not a position you could’ve aspired to without my help.”

  Lydia’s face heated up. How dare the lout act as if he’d done her a favor by ruining her and then deserting her! “That kind of help I can do without, thank you.”

  “So spirited, Lydia.” Luke stepped back to take in her form. “And you’ve filled out so nicely in all the right places.”

  With pursed lips and a pounding heart, she stormed back to the house, leaving Luke alone in her wake. Why would Robert ask that bounder to come to Gosling Park?

  The last thing
she heard him say as she walked away was, “You should be nice to me, unless you want Robert to learn all your dirty little secrets.”

  She didn’t even bother to turn around. What had he meant by that? No, she didn’t want to know. It was just Luke being Luke. She had no secrets. Well, not many, but certainly none that Luke could know. No one knew those dark secrets.

  Robert hadn’t planned on patching the leak in Mrs. Perkins’ roof today, but his steward had needed extra help. The process had gone as well as could be expected, but after lifting several pounds of straw thatch and balancing precariously on a rickety ladder for what felt like hours on end, he was hot, sweaty, and exhausted.

  As he rode his stallion back toward Gosling Park, every muscle in his body seemed to ache. Dinner would be served soon, and then he could enjoy the pleasures of his wife. Robert smiled and released a sigh just thinking about it. There wasn’t a better way to end the kind of day he’d had.

  But Robert’s day was not going to get any easier, and he realized it as soon as he stepped inside the castle. He was instantly assaulted by the smell of freshly smoked cheroot and the familiar citric scent of his brother’s shaving lotion. The combination of odors permeated the entire front hallway. Almost immediately, Robert’s nerves went on edge. He didn’t even need the sullen look he received from Dunsley to let him know that Luke had indeed arrived at Gosling Park.

  Robert handed his hat to Dunsley and was afraid to ask, but did so anyway. “Where is my brother?”

  “Mr. Beckford is in the green salon, my lord.”

  A headache formied right behind his eyes. God, what an awful day. “And Lady Masten?”

  The butler shook his head. “I believe she is in your chambers, sir. Betsy says that the countess is not feeling well today.”

  Robert scowled. Not feeling well, indeed. Well, neither was he. His temples throbbed painfully. Best get the unpleasantness of his brother out of the way. Robert stalked off toward the green salon and his stomach dropped with every step he took.

  Had Lydia seen Luke? Is that why she was in hiding? What a stupid question. Of course she had seen the reprobate.  But had his brother made an advance toward her?  His jaw tightened with just the mere thought. The scoundrel slept with everyone else’s wives. Why would he behave himself around Lydia?

  But what had she done? What had she said in response? The last few weeks with his wife had been such heaven. Suddenly, he felt lightheaded. Whether it was from the physical exertion of roofing or the idea of facing his brother, he wasn’t sure.

  What a lie that was.

  Never in his life had he been wary of meeting his brother. Angry at him, sure. Irritated, often. Disappointed, always. But never wary, until now. In all his years as earl, Robert had held the upper hand in his interviews with Luke, but now… Well, now Robert had something he was afraid to lose.

  Did Lydia still harbor feelings of love for his degenerate brother? Had the utopia he’d been living in come to an abrupt end?

  Would Lydia leave him?

  He steadied his shoulders and pushed open the door to the green salon. Luke was lounging like a man without a care in the world across the brocade settee. He was flipping through one of Robert’s horse breeding periodicals and sipping some of Robert’s best whiskey.

  Had the lout sampled anything else that belonged to Robert?

  Purposefully, he shut the door to the salon with such a force that it could only be described as a slam. He immediately regretted the action, as the sound echoed in his pounding brain. But luckily he also got the reaction from Luke that he was looking for.

  The sudden jarring sound caused his generally unflappable brother to start, and he sloshed some of that aforementioned whiskey onto his embroidered waistcoat. “Damn it, Robert. There’s no need to come blazing in here like a pack of elephants.”

  “Herd,” Robert corrected as he paced a path in front of the door.

  “Heard what?”

  “No, a herd. Wolves travel in packs, elephants in herds.”

  Luke rolled his eyes and rested his head against the back of the settee. “Blister it, Robert. You know what I meant.”

  “What are you doing here, Luke?”

  With a weary exasperation, Luke retrieved a letter from his pocket and hurled it toward his pacing brother. “Answering your summons, brother.”

  Robert snatched up the letter, but didn’t bother to look down at it. He knew very well what it said, and there was no request for Lucas to travel to Dorset. “I didn’t summon you here. I told you to take care of that business with the Ridgemont pendant.”

  Luke threw his head back and laughed. “Yes, thank you for your faith in me, as always.” Then he stood and dropped his glass, and the remaining amount of whiskey left in it, on the mahogany table in front of him. “I didn’t know that you’d reconciled with Lydia. Hell, Rob, I didn’t know you were on speaking terms with your fair wife.”

  Robert stopped mid-pace and glared at his brother. “My relationship with my wife is none of your concern, Lucas.”

  With a lazy smirk and a raised brow, Luke retrieved his whiskey and motioned with a mock toast toward his brother. “Really, Rob, Lydia was much warmer with her welcome to me earlier, you know.”

  There were some things that Robert could talk over rationally with his brother—horse breeding, estate management, even Tory politics—but Lydia did not, and would never, fall into that category. Taking in Luke’s smug expression, and wondering anxiously what exactly his brother had meant by ‘warmer welcome,’ Robert lost a silent battle with his temper. Despite his sore, aching muscles and his pounding headache, he moved with the speed of lightning and had Luke in a choke-hold in a mere matter of seconds. “Stay away from my wife!” he hissed. “Do you hear me, you lecherous bastard?”

  With surprising strength, Luke was able to pry his brother’s fingers from around his throat then doubled over while he gasped for breath. “Blast you, Robert!” He heaved heavily and slowly took in air. “What the devil has gotten into you?”

  Robert narrowed his eyes, adrenaline still pumping through his veins. “All I asked was that you give back the bloody pendant, Lucas. I didn’t request that you pay me a visit.”

  “For God’s sake, I don’t have any damned sapphire pendant.”

  The look of complete surprise on Luke’s face was just a bit startling to Robert, but he kept his gaze steady on his brother. He knew Luke well—well enough not to let his brother’s feigned innocence shake his resolve.

  “Emerald,” Robert growled.

  “Oh, well—” Luke threw his arms up in the air sardonically— “that makes all the difference, doesn’t it? Since I go around lifting all the emerald pendants I can get my hands on.”

  Finally, Robert sank into a sage and cream chintz chair and shook his head. “So, then tell me this. Why would Lady Ridgemont accuse you, Luke?”

  Luke shrugged, looking like a boy instead of a grown man. “Louisa is put out that I’ve broken things off with her.” Then he fell back on the settee and rested his elbows on his knees. “She’s got some Bow Street blighter dogging my every step and now she’s got you beckoning me all the way to Dorset.”

  “I did not beckon you to Dorset.”

  With a sheepish grin, Luke stared across the room at his brother. “Perhaps not, but do you mind if I stay for a while? I’m trying to keep as far away from Louisa as possible at the moment. She’d never think to look for me here.”

  Luke at Gosling Park was just about the last thing Robert needed at the moment. He glared at his brother. “You know, none of this would be necessary if you could just keep that prick of yours where it belongs.”

  Luke threw back his head and laughed. “Leave it to you, Robert, to cut to the chase. But what do you say, old man? I need a place to stay for a while.”

  “You’re not a young blade anymore, Luke. It’s way past time you settled down. Go back to London, end things with Lady Ridgemont, and grow the devil up.”

  �
�Spoken like the older brother I know and love. But please, Rob, just a few days.”

  “Why don’t you hide out at Staveley’s?”

  With a roguish grin, Luke shrugged. “Actually, Caroline’s not very happy with me at the moment.”

  God only knew what the blackguard had done now, and Robert didn’t want to know. He sighed heavily. This was not a good idea at all. He should turn his back on Luke and have his brother thrown out of Gosling Park. Yes, he should do that. But something in the pit of his stomach just wouldn’t let him. It was that same part of him that was forever pulling his brother out of various scrapes—fraternal bonds. “Fine. But just a few days. And I want you to stay far away from Lydia.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of bothering her.”

  “See that you don’t or you’ll answer to me. And in the meantime, I expect you to send a note to Mr. Cooper, the Bow Street blighter you mentioned earlier. I won’t harbor a fugitive.”

  “You’re the best, Robert. I always say so.”

  With a shake of his head, Robert doubted the sincerity of his brother’s accolade, particularly since he knew what his brother usually said about him. He had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach and set off to find his wife so he could try to explain the situation they now found themselves in.

  Robert pushed open the door to his and Lydia’s bedchamber. He found his wife, knitting furiously in their attached sitting room, with her feet tucked under her dress. She either didn’t hear him enter or was too angry to acknowledge his presence. Robert cleared his throat.

  She didn’t look up. Well, that answered that question, didn’t it? He’d already had two encounters with those damned knitting needles, and he wasn’t ready for a third. “Is it safe to enter?” He gestured toward her weapons of choice.

  Lydia sighed. “Well, that depends, Robert. Did you really send for your brother to come here?” Finally, she looked up and met his eyes.

  Cautiously, Robert crossed the threshold and took a seat opposite his wife. She went immediately back to work, with her yarn flying between her fingers and over her needles. Robert leaned forward and placed a staying hand on those damned socks. “Darling, I honestly didn’t know Luke was coming here.”

  “So, have you asked him to leave, then?”

  Robert took a deep breath. How could he explain this to her? “No, he’s got some trouble in London. He may stay for a few days.”

  “A few days!” Lydia dropped her knitting to her lap. “Robert, the children are supposed to arrive tomorrow, and our dinner party is the night after. You can’t actually expect me to live in the same house as that man and act as if everything is just fine.”

  “Lydia love, it will be fine. Gosling is so vast, you won’t even have to see Luke if you don’t want to.  And I’ve asked him to stay away from you while he’s here.”

  She narrowed her eyes and shook off his hands. “I can’t believe that you would ask this of me!”

  “Try to understand, dear. For better or worse, he is my brother. As much as I’d like to sometimes, I can’t turn my back on him when he’s asked for help. Wouldn’t you do the same for your brother, despite your differences?”

  He had her there, and he knew it, but she wasn’t happy about it. Still, she closed her eyes, as if she was in pain. “It’s hardly the same thing, Robert.”

  “It’s exactly the same thing. You and your brother aren’t even on speaking terms, and yet every time I turn around you’re knitting the good lieutenant another damned pair of socks—or are they the same pair? I don’t even know. Never mind. My point, darling, is that you cherish family as much as I do.”

  Lydia dropped her yarn and needles to a basket at her feet and sighed, resigned to her fate. But if Luke was going to stay there—and God how that left her nauseated—there were things they needed to discuss. “I spoke with him earlier today.”

  “I guessed as much since you’re hiding away in here.”

  “Damn you, Robert, I’m not hiding!”

  Properly chastised, Robert kissed the top of Lydia’s head. “I’m sorry, my love. Poor choice of words.”

  Lydia rubbed her brow, but continued. “Our visit was not a pleasant one. You should know that I don’t think your brother likes me very much.”

  With a mischievous grin, Robert tapped her chin. “Well, I’m glad to hear it. He had his shot at you. Now you’re mine.”

  “Robert!” She leaned back in her chair in exasperation. “That’s not what I meant at all. He seemed angry with me and said something about knowing my secrets.”

  “Secrets?” Robert frowned. “What the devil is that about?”

  “I have no idea. But he made me quite uncomfortable.”

  Robert dropped to his knees before Lydia and pulled her into his arms. “I’ll talk to him again, sweetheart. You’re my wife and I love you. I won’t let him upset you.”

  I love you.

  Lydia stared at Robert in complete shock. Did the man actually just tell her that he loved her? If so, it was worth having Lucas Beckford here, just to hear those words from her husband. She wanted to hear them again. Over and over again. “Did you just say that you love me?”

  “Lydia.” Robert looked at once uncomfortable and tried to pull away from her, but she held firmly to him.

  She stared deeply into those golden brown eyes of his and willed him to say those words again. “Tell me, please, Robert. Do you really? Love me, that is?”

  A rare blush crept up his face, making him look boyish. “Lydia Masten, my darling wife, I can’t help but love you.”

  Joy swept over Lydia, and she sat dumbfounded while she stared at him. Then she threw her arms around his neck and held him closely. How she had hoped to hear him speak those words! How she’d dreamed they were true! Tears pooled in her eyes as she clung to him. His warm hands lovingly caressed her back.

  He whispered against her ear, “You don’t have to say the words, Lydia.”

  Immediately she pulled back from him, and smoothed away a tear from her cheek. He didn’t think she reciprocated? She tried to smother a choked laugh. “Oh, heavens, Robert! I love you. Surely, you know that.”

  With a devilish twinkle in his eyes, Robert stood, scooped Lydia up into his arms, and started for their bed. He dropped his forehead to hers and smiled. “Show me.”

  So she did.

  Lydia untied Robert’s neck cloth, dropped it on the floor behind them, and then she nuzzled into the light golden brown hair at the base of his neck. He smelled of sandalwood, hay, and hard work. He smelled like Robert.

  Before Lydia knew it, he had unfastened the back of her dress with the expertise of a lady’s maid and laid her down on their bed. Grinning rakishly, a look he had sported often over the last few weeks, Robert quickly relieved her of her drawers and threw them over his shoulder with the flick of his wrist. Lydia giggled at his showmanship and sat up to slip her dress and chemise over her head.

  Lying naked before her husband, Lydia felt a tiny bit shy. But his reassuring smile put her at ease. She started to move to the center of the mattress, but Robert caught her by the ankle and pulled her to the edge of the bed. “My God you’re beautiful, Lydia.”

  She gasped as he dropped to his knees, held her legs apart, and gazed eagerly at her there. Lydia knew he thought of her as his little wanton, but this was a bit much. She tried to close her legs, but he held her firmly. “Robert, what are you doing?”

  “Worshiping you.” Slowly, methodically, his warm hands caressed her thighs and moved closer to her core.

  Before she could protest, he parted her springy hair with his fingers and covered her with his mouth. The intrusion of his tongue was shocking and sinful, and delightful in every way. Lydia couldn’t control her reaction to him and she strained to move closer to his lips and tongue.

  Robert chuckled, and he lifted his head to see her. “Relax, sweetheart. Let me take you away.”

  “Robert?”

  But he was back to his ministrations—licki
ng, nipping, sucking until she thought she would lose her mind from the pleasure he brought her. Lydia breathed heavily and her pulse raced. Then he touched her little nub with his tongue and she groaned in pleasure. That was all the encouragement he needed. Robert thrust his tongue deeply into her and took the care to caress her most sensitive nub with his thumb. Lydia gasped and wrapped her fingers in his hair, holding him against her as she shattered into a million pieces and screamed out his name.

  Satisfied with his work, Robert opened his breeches and his erection sprung proudly to attention. He bent forward, dropped kisses across Lydia’s flat belly, and then cupped his wife’s face with his hands. “I can’t wait anymore. I must have you.”

  Then he entered her on one quick, deep thrust. She nearly swooned from the feel of him, every delicious inch. “Oh, Robert.”

  He wanted to go slowly but as usual, Lydia drove him so wild he could barely see straight. He took one nipple into his mouth and then pressed into her with deep thrusts until she convulsed around him, calling his name. The pressure of her release shattered his control and he emptied into her with a final powerful thrust. Sliding his hands under her bottom, he held her to him as he used the last of his strength to roll her on top of him.  He didn’t want to slide out of her. Not yet.

     Lydia curled in to him, her soft breath warm against his neck. He breathed in her scent. Gardenias. For the rest of his life he’d get hard with just the barest hint of that wonderful flower.

  “Robert,” Lydia whispered.

  He nuzzled into the hair that had fallen around her neck. “Mmm?”

  “Do you remember what you said to me at The Knight’s Arms?”

  Robert stroked Lydia’s arm and moved his lips across her neck. “I said a number of things at The Knight’s Arms, my love.”

  Lydia turned in his arms to face him. “You told me that you’d make love to me morning, noon, and night at Gosling Park.”

  “Do you think I’ve been neglecting you, my lusty little wife?” Robert nipped at the corner of her mouth.            

  Lydia smiled sheepishly. “It’s just that I wake up every morning and you’re already gone. I rarely see you until the evenings.”

  Tenderly, Robert ran his thumb over her bottom lip. “I didn’t want you to get tired of me.”

  “Robert, I want to wake up like this tomorrow morning.”