A Prudent Match Page 9

  It all seemed very suspicious to Ledbetter. He very much feared that his wife was attempting to avoid him, and that she had some intention of backing out of their arrangement to move toward a consummation of their marriage. Therefore he said stiffly, "You may tell your ladyship that I shall await her in the sitting area off my bedchamber, where she can explain her difficulties to me while you are belowstairs."

  He heard a gasp from within the room, but ignored it and turned on his heel and stalked across the hall and into his own bedchamber. Really, she was making a great to-do about nothing. Ledbetter paused in front of his mirror to adjust the set of his cravat. He caught a glimpse of his expression in the glass and realized that he looked thoroughly annoyed. Oh, for God's sake! She'd think he was trying to browbeat her. With a great effort he managed to smooth out the fierce lines between his brows and replace them with a look of mild concern.

  When he heard footsteps in the hall, he moved swiftly into the sitting area and disposed himself against the mantel. Unfortunately, as it was early, there was no fire lit either in the sitting area or the bedchamber itself, and the room was chilly. His candle provided insufficient light to make the room look welcoming. He would appear the veriest inquisitor.

  His bride scratched at the door and let herself in without awaiting his summons. One look at her assured him that she was not of his mother's cast. No suspicion of tears here! Quite the opposite. If Ledbetter had been in the habit of encountering termagants, he might have been more familiar with the martial light in her eyes. As it was, he could tell that she was not happy.

  "Really, William, I can think of no reason for you to involve yourself in this matter," she said, glaring at him. "It has nothing to do with you. Can I not retire to my room for a space without your hunting me down and demanding an explanation?"

  "You were gone for a considerable amount of time. I was concerned that there was some difficulty."

  "Well, you needn't be. When I encounter some difficulty which requires your assistance, be assured that I will ask it of you."

  The chance that his mother would ever have made such a speech was so remote as to have been an impossibility. Ledbetter very much feared that he had chosen perhaps a little too far in the opposite direction to his mother's meekness. He was not in the habit of having anyone question his actions or speak to him in such a fashion.

  "If you would be so good as to explain your difficulty, it would put my mind at ease," he informed her.

  Prudence threw her hands up in exasperation. "Ease your mind! Well, there is certainly nothing I wish more than to ease your mind in this instance, William. My difficulty," she said, flushing hotly, "is that I need clean rags."

  "I beg your pardon?" He regarded her in some perplexity. "Why in God's name do you need clean rags? And at this hour of the night?"

  "Because," she said between clenched teeth, "I have gotten my courses. My monthly cycle, William. Were I at home, I would know precisely where to obtain such items as I need. But I find myself in an unfamiliar house, without the resources I am accustomed to. Does that explain everything to your satisfaction?"

  The baron had the grace to flush in his turn. "I beg your pardon! I had no idea!"

  "And why should you? But, my dear sir, am I to understand that I shall not be allowed the privacy to deal with this or any other matter I choose to deal with privately?"

  "Of course not. I had no intention of invading your privacy, ma'am."

  "Nevertheless, you have." Prudence dropped down onto the damask-covered chair opposite to the fireplace and sighed. "Oh, William, I know you're disappointed about my . . . my shyness and my fears. And I truly intend to overcome them. But it is only a few days since we married and I fear I have already tried your patience too far."

  "Not at all." Ledbetter moved quickly to stand beside her. He dropped one hand on her shoulder and used the other to lift her face to look at him. "I was very much at fault to seek you out as I did, and to force you to tell me the nature of your distress. I can't promise that I won't do something equally odious another time, Prudence, but I shall certainly try not to."

  "Thank you."

  "I realize I've forced you to be very frank with me, and you probably don't much care for that." He looked rueful. "But do you know, Prudence, I find it easier to handle than trying to guess what is on your mind."

  "Nonsense. You were absolutely appalled when I launched into my diatribe."

  "True," he admitted. "But look at the results of your outburst. You told me exactly how you felt, something you would not have done if you'd been trying to be polite and accommodating."

  "It's very difficult to be polite and accommodating with you sometimes, William."

  "So I gather." He helped her to her feet and gave her a light push in the direction of the door. "I would appreciate your joining me in the Gold Drawing Room when you've taken care of . . . matters."

  She dropped a mocking curtsy. "I shan't be overlong, my lord."

  "I hope you will take as much time as you need," he retorted.

  * * *

  Chapter 10

  Prudence joined him in well under half an hour. She found him paging through a leather-bound volume, with several others stacked on a table beside him. At her entry he rose and came toward her, taking her hand and conveying it to his lips.

  “My dear,” he murmured, a warm light in his eyes.

  “My lord,” she responded, a little diffidently. “I trust you did not despair of my coming. It was necessary to change my gown.”

  “I like this one better, in any case,” he said. “It is cut considerably lower than the other.”

  “That is not why I chose it.” Though she spoke earnestly, her eyes belied the severity of her words.

  “Why did you choose it?”

  “Because it is easy to get into.”

  “Ah, and therefore easy to get out of as well, I trust.”

  “As you say.” Prudence took the chair he indicated, beside his. “Were you looking for something in particular in the books?”

  “These?” He waved a hand at the small stack of volumes. “I thought we might read aloud, and I was wondering which would be of the most interest to you. I have a volume of Robert Burns's Tam o' Shanter, a work called Waverly which I have on good authority is by Walter Scott, or a recent novel by a Lady, called Emma.”

  “Oh, Emma, I should think, if it is all the same to you.”

  “As you wish.” Ledbetter returned to his seat and picked up one of the volumes. “I've rung for tea but see no reason why we should not get started. Shall I begin?”

  “Please do.”

  “’Emma: A Novel. In three volumes. By the author of “Pride and Prejudice,” etc., etc. Vol. I. 'Emma Woodhouse, handsome, clever, and rich, with a comfortable home and happy disposition, seemed to unite some of the best blessings of existence; and had lived nearly twenty-one years in the world with very little to distress or vex her.' A nice start,” he commented, smiling across at his wife.

  “Indeed.” Prudence disposed herself comfortably on the high-backed armchair and allowed his voice to engross her. He had a rich voice, one to which she could have listened for hours on end. His reading was dramatic and humorous by turns as he detailed life in Highbury and Mr. Woodhouse's objections to Miss Taylor's marriage.

  When the tea tray came, he did not pause, but allowed Prudence to pour out and set his cup beside him where he might take a sip as he read. He finished the first chapter of the novel before putting it aside to choose one of the biscuits. “Well, what do you think? We have a whole cast of characters set out so far. I'm especially taken with this Knightley fellow.”

  Prudence grinned at him. “Perhaps you feel some kinship with him, William. The author says he is the only one who can see faults in Emma.”

  “Now what could you possibly mean by that?” he wondered. “I am not given to seeing faults in anyone.”

  “Thank heaven.” She set down her cup and asked, “Shall I read for a while?
”

  “Would you?” Ledbetter handed her the volume and indicated where he had stopped.

  Prudence loved reading aloud. It had been a favorite occupation with her and her sisters of a cold, blustery evening at home. She enjoyed the opportunity to take on different voices and accents, to dramatize a bit of poetry or a wrenching scene. As always, she became deeply involved in the story and only noticed Ledbetter's keen interest when she finished a chapter and glanced up.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “Nothing. You read charmingly, Prudence. Would you read another chapter?”

  “Certainly.”

  This time she was a little more aware of his gaze upon her but it did not inhibit her enjoyment of the story, or her delight in giving voice to Mr. Woodhouse's absurdities. “A little thin gruel, indeed,” she said when she set down the volume at chapter's end. “I daresay you have none of Mr. Woodhouse's eccentricities on that front, William, and will expect your guests to have every type of treat available in March.”

  “Absolutely.” He rose and held a hand out to her. “Come. It's late. We'll read more tomorrow night.”

  He retained a grip on her hand after she was on her feet and gently tugged her closer to him. She felt a moment of panic when she realized he was going to kiss her, but fought it down.

  His mouth on hers was firm. She felt her lips respond to the pressure, as if of their own accord. And then he deepened the kiss, pulled her into the urgency of it somehow. His hands went around his waist, hers lifted to his shoulders to steady herself. The sensations she experienced were unsettling. Little tugs of pleasure occurred here and there in her body. She found that he had pressed her against the long length of him—or she had pressed herself there.

  The little tugs of pleasure were becoming more of an ache, a longing, now. In the most private of places. Prudence felt the warmth of a flush stain her cheeks, and she attempted to draw back. He allowed her to separate from him, but kept a steadying hand on her back.

  “Is something the matter?” he asked, a quizzical light in his eyes.

  She felt a little breathless. “No. No. But perhaps that should be enough for tonight.”

  “Oh, I doubt a little more kissing will prove disastrous, my dear. You liked it, did you not?”

  “Um . . . yes. But it was beginning to make me nervous.”

  “Ah . . . nervous.” He twined the fingers of one hand with hers, and used them to draw her closer again. “I would not have guessed you to be a woman of nervous disposition.”

  “I'm not! In the ordinary way I haven't the least tendency toward nerves, I promise you.”

  “Good. I think it would be most difficult to live with someone of a nervous disposition.” He bent his head to kiss her again, allowing his lips to linger on hers for some time. “Does that make you nervous?”

  The tugs of urgency had indeed returned. Prudence nodded.

  “I see,” he said, looking fascinated. He bent his head and began to nibble on her ear. “And that?”

  She blinked at him and nodded.

  He dropped his lips to the hollow at the base of her neck and kissed that in a most disconcerting way. “That doesn't make you nervous, surely,” he suggested.

  “But it does.” Each time his lips touched her, the same tightening occurred. Her body felt on the edge of a precipice.

  “Perhaps it would be better if you kissed me, and I merely stood here.”

  “I can't see why.”

  “Well, if my kissing you is making you nervous, then your kissing me should not. I mean, you would be the one actively engaged.”

  “You're mocking me,” she grumbled.

  Ledbetter shook his head. “I think you should find out what happens if you kiss me.”

  She stood on tiptoe and placed a short, firm kiss on his lips. He said patiently, “No, you have to kiss me as though you meant it.”

  Reluctantly Prudence put her arms around his neck and pulled his head down to hers. Then she tried to duplicate the kind of kiss he had offered her, where she moved her lips on his and exerted pressure to get a response from him. Though she felt certain she was doing it correctly, he made no attempt to meet her pressure with any resistance, or to actively engage her. She realized the frustration he must feel when she didn't respond and she moved a little away from him to meet his gaze.

  “You could kiss me, too,” she suggested. “I wouldn't mind.”

  “Yes, but it might make you nervous.”

  “I would prefer being nervous to feeling ridiculous.”

  “Then of course I will kiss you back,” he agreed.

  Prudence once again put her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his. This time he met her kiss with a tender but delightful response. Prudence found it very exciting to elicit such a direct sensation in answer to her simple touch. If she thought he would take over for her, however, she was mistaken. Ledbetter still awaited her lead. And Prudence rather liked that arrangement.

  But the nervousness had definitely returned.

  There was a tightness to various locations in her body, which seemed to occur whether it was she doing the kissing, or Ledbetter responding to her. She found herself pressed against his body, her breasts tingling in a most unusual fashion. But even more disconcerting was that aching feeling between her legs which seemed to deepen with the kisses.

  Her breathing had quickened, and it was difficult for her to remember what it was she didn't like about the nervousness that kissing brought on. It was unsettling, certainly, but also extremely pleasurable in some ways. She was almost disappointed when Ledbetter drew back and smiled at her.

  “Thank you, my dear,” he said, carrying her hand to his lips to kiss. “That was very brave of you. I trust you are not overcome by nerves.”

  “Of course not. I think I could grow accustomed to such a slight indisposition.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes, so long as it goes away afterwards.”

  He observed her closely. “And has it gone away—this indisposition?”

  Prudence could not truthfully say that it had, but it was diminishing. “It's not so strong now. I imagine that in a few moments I shall be perfectly back to normal.”

  “No doubt,” he said dryly.

  “Don't you want me to be back to normal?” she asked, puzzled.

  “Well, no. I would prefer that you acclimate yourself to what you call the 'nervousness.' Though you are apparently unaccustomed to it, it is your body's way of preparing for intimate relations between husband and wife.”

  Prudence flushed a becoming pink. “I don't see how that can be so,” she protested. “I should think that would just make it worse.”

  “But that is because you are thinking that the nervousness is a bad thing. Actually, the changes in your body are a response to stimulation of your desire, and they can be quite pleasurable.”

  Prudence looked unconvinced. “Perhaps that's true for men, William. I don't think women feel that way.”

  He shook his head, exasperated. “Prudence, you've told me that you can feel the tension in your body when we kiss. That's what's supposed to happen. Carried to its natural conclusion, that tension is released in a spectacularly pleasant way.”

  “How?”

  “It would be easier to show you than to explain,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “Through touching and kissing, that tension builds and builds until it reaches a point where you . . . explode . . . in a most enjoyable fashion.”

  “Exploding doesn't sound very enjoyable.”

  “Trust me, it is.” He sighed and kissed the tip of her nose. “Are you sure your mother didn't explain all this to you?”

  “My mother? Certainly not.”

  “Your sisters, then. Two more knowledgeable girls I have seldom met.”

  His wife blushed for her sisters. “They are foolish beyond permission, I grant you. And yes, they have explained to me what husbands and wives do. Why they find it so amusing, I ca
nnot imagine. They terrified me.”

  “Ah, I see.”

  “What is it you see, William?”

  “That your sisters have given you a distorted view of intimate relations.”

  Prudence frowned. “I hardly think that is likely.” She screwed her courage to the sticking point and asked, “It is true, is it not, that a man breeds with a woman much as animals do?”

  Her husband grimaced. “Not precisely, though the equipment in both cases is the same.”

  “It seems an alarming business, William. In fact, it sounds rather painful to me.”

  “Sexual congress between men and women is not a painful business, Prudence.”

  “No?” Prudence fixed him with a steady stare. “Elinor made quite a point of telling me that I would be very much the worse for wear when it happened to me. She insisted that there was a barrier inside a woman which a man had to penetrate, that there was pain and bleeding. I suppose you think that is nothing to distress me.”

  Ledbetter sighed. “Your sister has overstated the case.”

  “Now how would you possibly know?” his wife demanded. “Have you been given to deflowering virgins, my lord?”

  “Of course not,” he all but snapped. “On the other hand, I have never met a woman who even mentioned being hurt the first time she had relations with a man. And it only happens the once!”

  “How comforting,” Prudence murmured. She paced the sitting room, picking up and replacing various items on the tables—a snuffbox, a book, a candle. Eventually she turned to face him. “You're quite right, of course. It's ridiculous for me to carry on so about such an insignificant matter. Let's get it over with, shall we?”

  Ledbetter blinked in astonishment. “I beg your pardon?”

  “I'm sure you heard what I said. I shall go up to my room right now and await your arrival. I would ask only that you not dawdle. Just come and take care of the matter.”

  “Prudence, are you deliberately trying to provoke me?”

  “No, how should I be? Or perhaps you would prefer not to do it while I have my monthly cycle. I hadn't thought of that.”

  “I prefer not to do it at all under such strictures,” he muttered. “Attend me, Prudence. I don't want you to consider this some kind of duty, some unbearable obligation. There is a great deal more to it than that.”