Regency Rogues: Stolen Sins: Forbidden Nights with the Viscount (Hadley's Hellions) / Stolen Encounters with the Duchess (Hadley's Hellions). Julia Justiss
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touch you again. When can I return?’
She laughed. ‘I don’t know. I’ll have to check my schedule, as I imagine you will need to consult yours. Truly, I didn’t plan for this to happen today.’
‘I heartily approve of your spontaneous idea.’
‘Not totally spontaneous. Following through on the desire was, perhaps. But I’d been thinking about it for a long time—probably from the first moment I met you. I tried to talk myself into being prudent and responsible, but every time I see you, prudence and responsibility seem to fly out the window—and in flies this great, fierce bird of need that grips me in its claws and won’t let go.’
He leaned over to kiss her again. ‘Here’s to great, fierce birds. I hope you keep a whole flock of them.’
She shook her head. ‘You must think me absurd.’
He cupped her face in his hands. ‘I think you delightful. Whimsical. Fascinating. The most glorious lover who has ever touched me. But now I must go. Do check your schedule and send me a note. Number Six, Albany. And make it soon.’
‘Number Six, Albany,’ she repeated.
He pulled her to him and gave her one last kiss, deep, cherishing, possessive, powerful. ‘Oh, yes—soon!’ she said, and let him go.
Maggie stood in the doorframe, watching Giles as he descended the stairs, then walked back into the bedchamber to pour herself another glass of wine.
Goodness, two glasses of wine before luncheon! But then, the occasion deserved it. She’d just propositioned a man she knew very little, had him come to her house in broad daylight, and spent the morning making love to him while the staff went about their duties and her cousin snored, blissfully unaware, in a nearby bedchamber.
What had come over her?
She’d known Robbie all her life, the transition from best friends to lovers as natural and gradual as growing older. She’d known Sir Francis for several years, been engaged for several months, and even then, only succumbed to his urgings when the protection of a wedding ring loomed. Now, she’d just taken to her bed, if not to ultimate surrender, a man she’d met…three times?
Maggie shuddered. By the world’s measure, she’d be judged a woman of easy virtue, even a harlot. And yet…and yet.
It was more than just the powerful physical connection. Something about him, his passionate support of the causes he found important, and his willingness to devote his life to them, seemed to mesh so well with her ideals of sacrifice and service, making him seem like a friend of long acquaintance, rather than a man she’d barely met. It felt right and natural to sit across the table from him and debate politics; to lie in his arms and thrill to his caresses; to pleasure him and bring him to bliss.
She wanted to do all those things again and again.
A little chill of foreboding cooled the euphoria of satiation. This could end very badly. There was no question Giles Hadley saw this as a pleasant but temporary, short-term liaison. It would be all too easy for her to want much more.
She didn’t dare let herself want more.
What was it that sailors had once said about voyaging towards the edge of the known world—‘beyond here be dragons’? Having dared to venture into something she’d never experienced, behaving in a way she wouldn’t previously have considered possible, she might well learn the bitter truth of that maxim.
But having had just one taste of Giles Hadley, she was not about to stop now.
An hour later, properly garbed in her habit, Maggie rode back to her father’s town house, trying out, during the transit, various explanations for her very tardy return.
A wasted effort, as it turned out. Her maid sat in her bedchamber, bent over some needlework, but before she could utter a syllable, Polly looked up and exclaimed, ‘Lord and stars, missy, what do you think you’re doing?’
Damning the guilty flush heating her face, Maggie gazed at the maid who’d been with her since she was a child at Huntsford and Polly a junior nursemaid. No point trying to deny what the maid already knew, not that she had intended to waste any effort trying to conceal an affair that was probably already the focus of speculation below stairs at Upper Brook Street. ‘I didn’t imagine I could hide anything from you,’ she said with a rueful laugh. ‘But I didn’t expect you’d find out this soon. Who told you?’
The maid raised her eyebrows. ‘You leave at dawn for a ride that normally takes you an hour, and are gone four. Don’t you think I sent that worthless groom back to look for you, and with a flea in his ear for leaving you alone? When he didn’t find you, he stopped by Upper Brook Street—doubtless to delay having to return and report you missing! They told him you were…entertaining a gentleman. Now, you needn’t be worrying the news will get out anywhere but this room and Number Four! We’ve all of us seen you go through more heartache than one body should have to bear, and we’d none of us add to it by tarnishing your name. But gracious, child, what are you thinking?’
‘I suppose you want me to tell you I wasn’t thinking, but that’s not exactly true.’
With her own mother ill for much of Maggie’s life, confiding in Polly had become a childhood habit she’d never outgrown; the wise but sharp-tongued woman had been her supporter and comforter from the days of scraped knees to times of devastating loss. As Maggie trusted she would be now, whether or not she approved of her rash actions.
‘Oh, Polly, I’ve missed Robbie for so long and so keenly. In some ways, Mr Hadley couldn’t be more different than the quiet country gentleman I meant to spend my life with. But he does make me…feel again! The same sort of excitement and delight in life that Robbie did. And the passion. I don’t expect to find again a love like ours, but can’t I enjoy myself a little, before I dwindle into an old widow?’
‘I’ve no objection to you finding pleasure—who deserves it more? But there’s no reason you couldn’t “enjoy yourself” by choosing another fine gentleman to marry—’ She held up a hand, forestalling Maggie’s protest. ‘I know, I know. But even if the husband wasn’t the equal of your Robbie, he could provide you with the passion you seek—safely. How can you even think of risking—?’
‘I’m not! I’m hardly likely to forget what the consequences would be for conceiving a child out of wedlock, and I have no more desire to disappoint Papa and tarnish my name than you would have to see it. I was intimate with Mr Hadley, but in a…controlled way. We’ll not do anything that will risk my becoming with child.’
The maid shook her head. ‘I’ve heard of them “French letters”, or whatever it is the apothecaries call what decent people ought not to use, but nothing will truly stop a babe. I don’t doubt this Mr Hadley is as charming as the devil himself, but it’s still not worth the risk, child.’
‘We’re not using a “French letter”. We are…limiting our intimacy to include only what will avoid any chance of conception,’ Maggie explained, her face flaming, unable to describe it any more plainly even to a woman who knew every mishap she’d ever suffered and every mistake she’d ever made.
It took a minute for Polly to puzzle it out. ‘You mean you’re not letting him—’
‘No. As long as I avoid the ultimate act, why shouldn’t I take some pleasure, when, after so long alone, I’ve discovered a man who intrigues me, whom I intrigue in turn?’
‘I don’t like it, Miss Maggie,’ Polly said, shaking her head. ‘He might be a fine gentleman, and if you like him this much, I’m sure he must be. And he might tell you now that what-all you’re doing is