Impassioned by Darcy Burke

Chapter 16

When Sabrina emerged from the staircase hall in her evening finery—a stylish, sparkling headpiece that wound about her elegantly styled hair and a gown made of deep garnet silk—Constantine almost suggested they send word to the Brightlys that they were ill. However, he didn’t think it was yet time to progress their burgeoning relationship to a more intimate level. They were getting closer, if last night’s kiss was any indication.

Constantine stepped forward and took her hand, pressing a kiss to the back of her ivory glove. “You look radiant.”

“Thank you. I apologize if I kept you waiting. I’m afraid we lost track of time with the preparations for the ball.” She pulled the vibrant Kashmir shawl draped over her arm around her shoulders. Woven in vivid colors of red, blue, gold, and purple, the woolen garment perfectly complemented her gown.

“It was well worth the delay,” he noted with a smile, his gaze sweeping over her once more. “We should be on our way, however.”

He guided her outside, and she pulled her shawl up around her shoulders to shield against the cool evening breeze. A few moments later, they were settled side by side in the coach, their thighs barely touching. It was both a provocation and a torture.

“I wanted to apologize for having to leave so abruptly last night,” Constantine said. “It was imperative I meet with someone regarding the apothecaries bill.”

She tipped her head toward him, and in the light of the lantern, her blue eyes shone like the surface of a lake on a bright summer day. “There’s no need to apologize. I know how busy you are.”

“You are very kind,” he murmured.

“Was it a productive meeting?”

“I hope so, but it’s hard to tell. This has been long in the making. For over twenty years, in fact.” If something had been done much sooner, his mother might be alive today. “I’m trying to gain support for the bill and working to make sure there is a draft that is acceptable to all parties and can be passed. It’s very difficult to get everyone to agree, but I believe, after all these years, we are finally getting close.”

“What do you hope the bill will specifically accomplish?”

“Practitioners will need to complete certain education, be of a minimum age, and have received examination. There must be regulation in place to ensure the safety of our society. There are too many surgeons or apothecaries and the rest who should not be practicing.” He realized his voice had climbed and his hands had moved animatedly as he’d spoken.

She gently placed her fingertips on his forearm. “This is an issue about which you care very much. Is there a particular reason?”

Constantine’s throat constricted. He never discussed this with anyone. A week ago, he would have avoided answering the question. “My mother died at the hands of an inept surgeon. He should not have been practicing.” He spoke softly, but the words cut like a rapid hail of arrows.

Her touch became a clasp, her hand closing around him. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize.”

“We don’t discuss it. My father refuses. I’ve tried to speak with him about this bill, but he always finds another topic of conversation. I sometimes wonder if he feels guilt—he sent for the surgeon and trusted him.”

“What happened?” Her gaze was so gentle, so encouraging. “You needn’t tell me if you don’t want to. I don’t wish to press.”

For the first time, he wanted to tell someone. The pain of losing his mother, of not being at her side, was a burden he’d never shared. “She had some sort of pain in her belly. It went on for several weeks and the surgeon insisted that bleeding, in addition to a regimen of unknown medicinals, would help. My mother didn’t survive. I have always believed that if I had been home instead of at Oxford, I would have been able to prevent what happened.”

Sabrina turned completely toward him and brought her hand up to his cheek. “You can’t know that.”

“That’s the devil of it. I’ll never know if I might have been able to save her.”

“You mustn’t blame yourself. She wouldn’t want that.”

He smiled sadly—because Sabrina was right and because he missed his mother so very much. “You are very wise for such a young, sheltered lady,” he whispered.

“I don’t know about that, but I see and hear the love you had for your mother, and I know she felt the same for you.”

He stared at her, bemused by her understanding when her own mother hadn’t demonstrated such emotion. “You are wise, against the odds, I will add, given what I know of your family.” He put his hand over hers against his cheek.

She leaned forward and touched her lips to his. The connection was a balm to his soul, easing an ache he’d thought could never be alleviated.

The coach stopped, and they abruptly parted. She withdrew her hand, and he let her go, though he wanted nothing more than to keep holding her in any way that he could. What was happening to him?

The door opened, and they exited the coach. They walked close together to the door, her arm entwined with his. A few moments later, they strolled into the Brightlys’ parlor.

Mrs. Brightly, a cheerful woman approaching thirty with a heart-shaped face and round, brown eyes, dropped into a formal curtsey. “Good evening, my lord, my lady.”

“Good evening, Mrs. Brightly,” Sabrina responded with a smile. “We so appreciate your invitation to join you this evening.”

“It is our honor.” Mrs. Brightly stepped forward toward Sabrina. “Come, let us sit for a bit before dinner is served. Would you care for sherry or marsala, or something else?”

“What are you having?” Sabrina accompanied her to a large seating area.

Mrs. Brightly sat on a narrow settee, and Brightly joined her there. “The marsala. It’s divine.”

Sabrina took a seat on another wider settee covered in a rich, teal blue damask. Constantine followed and sat beside her, though not as close as their hosts were sitting. But then, the Brightlys’ furnishing ensured a rather intimate proximity.

“Then that’s what I shall have,” Sabrina said to their hostess. “I find I’m distressingly partial to nearly all fortified wine. I only recently discovered this when his lordship arranged for me to taste several varieties so I could compare them.”

“That sounds like such fun.” Mrs. Brightly turned to her husband. “We must do that.”

Brightly regarded her with a glowing expression. “Your wish is always my command, my love.”

Already, Constantine felt the palpable connection between the Brightlys. It was always thus—it was no mystery how the couple felt about one another. Glancing toward Sabrina, he wondered if she noticed it. Both tonight and on their previous visits.

“Wilkes, four marsalas, if you please.” Brightly looked to Constantine. “If that’s all right with you? Keeps things simple, and it’s a marvelous bottle, if I do say so.”

“Brilliant,” Constantine said, wondering if he ought to inch closer to Sabrina. He wanted to. Since she’d kissed him in the coach, perhaps she wanted the same.

The butler, who had lingered in the doorway after showing Constantine and Sabrina to the parlor, poured and distributed the wine. He then departed.

Brightly sipped his marsala before putting his arm along the back of the settee behind his wife. “I must tell you, Aldington, Mrs. Brightly and I received invitations to the Phoenix Club yesterday. I am rather shocked.” He exchanged an excited look with Mrs. Brightly. They seemed to be suppressing, rather poorly, a sense of glee.

“This pleases you, I take it?” Constantine asked even as his insides felt as though he’d swallowed acid. Why was he not good enough for the club? A club run by his brother who claimed to be looking out for him.

“I’m quite thrilled,” Mrs. Brightly said, her eyes dancing. “I understand I can visit the gentlemen’s side on Tuesdays. And then there are the exclusive assemblies on Friday. It’s all so decadent!”

“Lady Aldington is a member,” Constantine said rather tightly. The press of Sabrina’s thigh against his startled him. She’d moved closer. Her hand rested on her lap but was quite close to his. His pulse thrummed.

“How splendid!” Mrs. Brightly looked to Sabrina. “Were you there last night, Lady Aldington?”

Constantine felt her stiffen and knew her answer. Just as he knew she hadn’t told him.

“Er, yes.” She flicked a look toward Constantine. “It was my first opportunity to visit on a Tuesday, and Lord Lucien—Aldington’s brother—showed me around.”

“I hear the gaming room can be quite raucous,” Brightly said.

“And the décor is reputed to be opulent.” Mrs. Brightly lifted her marsala to take a drink.

Sabrina leaned her head toward Constantine’s. “I was going to tell you,” she whispered.

Mrs. Brightly looked to Constantine. “Lord Aldington, you can escort Horace while Lady Aldington does the same for me.”

“I am not a member.” Constantine took a long sip of the marsala, allowing the sweet wine to coat his tongue.

Mrs. Brightly paled, and Brightly moved his arm to her upper back. He squeezed her shoulder and gave Constantine a rather pained smile. “Apologies, Aldington.”

“That isn’t necessary. I’m sure many wonder why I am not a member of my brother’s club. I do not presume to understand their membership practices, nor do I wish to. I am content with my other memberships. They certainly don’t leave me wanting for more.” He straightened, pushing his back against the settee. “Besides, I am delighted to be a founding member of the exclusive Gentlemen’s Phaeton Racing Club.”

Brightly lifted his glass. “Hear, hear!” Everyone took a drink before Brightly continued. “I can scarcely believe it’s already time for our first excursion on Saturday.”

“And I can scarcely believe wives are still not allowed to come.” Mrs. Brightly gently nudged her husband in the ribs with her elbow. She grinned up at him, and they shared a moment in which it seemed they were the only people in the room.

Constantine was aware of Sabrina’s hand brushing against his thigh. His head snapped toward hers as a jolt of heat shot through him.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, and her lashes fluttered in an expression that was at once demure and enticing. He struggled to take a breath.

“I asked Aldington the same thing,” Sabrina said, her gaze reluctantly leaving his. “I was jesting, however. Are you doing the same?”

“Always. I understand the racing club is for gentlemen. Just as my needlework club is for ladies.” Mrs. Brightly focused on Sabrina intently. “If you enjoy needlework, you should join us.”

“Why thank you,” Sabrina said politely. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Did she do needlework? Constantine had no idea. “Perhaps we should insist the gentlemen allow us to accompany them, just for this first excursion.” She looked from Brightly to Constantine.

Mrs. Brightly’s forehead creased as she pivoted toward her husband. “That’s a splendid idea. Why not allow us to come on this first race? I can’t see the harm in it.”

Brightly’s mouth opened but no words came out. He looked to Constantine, and his need for assistance was clear.

“We would have to obtain the agreement of the rest of the club,” Constantine said. “We have a meeting tomorrow. I’ll raise the issue.”

Sabrina stared at him. “You will?”

“I’ll support you in it,” Brightly said. “I own it would be terribly diverting to have the wives along on a jaunt. Mrs. Brightly and I do love to drive together, though we don’t do it as much as in the early days of our marriage.”

“And when we were courting. You took me on that rather scandalous drive to Islington.” She briefly grazed her hand against his leg and met his gaze, laughing.

Brightly chuckled. “We were already betrothed, so it wasn’t that scandalous. I simply couldn’t wait to be alone with you.” He winked at her, and it was clear they had been a love match from the very beginning.

Mrs. Brightly turned her attention to Sabrina. “What sort of scandalous things did you and Aldington get up to before you were wed?”

“Nothing,” Sabrina answered. “Our courtship was incredibly proper. I don’t mean to imply that yours wasn’t,” she quickly added.

Constantine noted the faint flush at the base of her neck. “I’m afraid her ladyship and I are sticklers for propriety. Aren’t we, dear?” He admired her profile before she turned her head.

“That, and we seem to enjoy anticipation.” Her eyes glittered with heat, and Constantine feared his cock would embarrass him. For a woman who had never flirted with him before a week or so ago, she’d somehow become incredibly skilled.

Thankfully, the butler returned to announce that dinner was served, and Constantine was saved. He wondered if it was only a temporary reprieve, however. Because being in the presence of an affectionate couple in addition to wanting desperately to shag his wife could very well push him to the edge of his control.

Sabrina yawned as Constantine helped her into the coach later that evening. “I beg your pardon. Between the preparations for the ball and this evening, I am exhausted.”

That settled the debate that had been going on inside Constantine’s head the past two hours: to take her to bed tonight or not. It seemed not. Despite the fact that his body was practically screaming for hers. Between the loving affection of the Brightlys, which for the first time seemed infectious, and the subtle flirtation from his wife, Constantine was at sixes and sevens.

“I enjoyed myself very much,” Sabrina said as the coach moved forward. “Did you?”

“Yes. Horace is a good friend. I’m glad you and Mrs. Brightly get on so well.”

“They are a devoted couple,” she said softly. “I’ve always noticed that, of course, but tonight it felt…different to be around them.”

Constantine tensed. She had noticed. “Different good or different bad?”

“Good, I think.”

Constantine relaxed. But only slightly. “I’m glad their fondness doesn’t make you uncomfortable.”

“I think fondness is an inadequate word.” She turned on the seat and faced him, stirring the air around him so that he was enveloped in her now-familiar scent. “Does this discussion make you uncomfortable? You seem anxious all of a sudden.”

“I’m not anxious.” He was bloody frustrated. But he could wait a little longer.

She took his hand between hers, then released him to discard her gloves, setting them on the seat on the other side of her. Carefully, she withdrew his glove, putting it aside with hers, so that they were flesh to flesh. “You feel warm.”

He was burning. Entirely for her.

She stroked her fingertips along his hand and then up beneath the cuff of his sleeve. He sucked in a breath, holding it, his entire body stretched taut as if on a rack. But this torture was sweet, and he wasn’t sure he wanted it to end.

“I do like anticipation,” he breathed, his gaze fixated on the pulse of her heartbeat in her pale throat.

“It seems prevalent of late,” she murmured, her body swaying toward him. Perhaps she wasn’t too tired…

He pulled off his other glove and cast it aside. “Yes.” Lifting his hand, he gently touched that spot on her throat, dragging his thumb down over the satin of her flesh. Her chest rose and fell more rapidly as her lips parted.

The tutor’s advice rose in Constantine’s mind, that he should talk to Sabrina to allay her fears. “Are you nervous?”

She swallowed. “Perhaps a little.”

“That’s all right,” he soothed, stilling his touch. “I will always go as slow as you ask. But I need you to ask. Can you do that?” He looked into her eyes and saw the apprehension recede.

“I can.” She clasped his other hand—the one that wasn’t resting against the base of her throat, splayed from the top of her bodice to her collarbone, which was disappointingly covered by the soft woolen shawl. “Now it is my turn to ask you… Why are you different?”

He wanted to say that he wasn’t, but he knew that wasn’t true. “Because I want to be. With you. As you have done with me. We didn’t start off right.”

“No, we did not.”

They’d been pawns, steered by their parents for their own ends. Constantine understood Sabrina’s parents’ motivation, but what of the duke’s? Why had he pushed Constantine to wed this woman?

It didn’t matter because he was married to her, and he didn’t regret being so. Not anymore. He realized in that moment that he had regretted it. Or perhaps resented it. A wave of guilt stole over him.

“I’m sorry for all the time before.” He bent his head and kissed her, trying to go slowly while his body was urging him go faster, to demand more, to take more.

Perhaps she sensed that within him. She released his hand and put her palms against his chest, pressing briefly, before she clutched the lapels of his coat. Parting her lips, she met his tongue, and a heady rush of desire swept him from head to foot.

The shawl had fallen from her shoulders when she’d lifted her hands to his chest. He slid his hand along her collarbone and upper back. He cupped her nape, cradling the velvety softness of her skin.

She slipped one arm beneath his coat and wrapped it around his back, pulling him against her as she angled herself into the corner of the seat. Tentatively, she moved her other hand up along his chest and over his shoulder.

Constantine rotated, positioning himself over her and bringing one knee up while his other foot braced on the floor against the jostling of the coach. His hat tipped forward, and he tossed it away. Then she kissed him with an abandon he’d never thought possible, her lips and tongue tangling with his.

He kissed along her jaw and neck, savoring the flesh he’d long wanted to taste. Rapture flooded him. This was madness. This was bliss.

“Constantine, please, I would—”

He froze. Then he lifted his head to look down at her. Cheeks flushed, she opened her eyes.

“I love hearing you say my name.”

“Constantine. Please. Touch me.”

With a soft groan, he kissed her again, without any hint of gentleness this time. The connection was hard and desperate, the culmination of a deep longing. He pushed the shawl away from her completely and cupped her breast through the silk of her gown. It wasn’t nearly enough to appease his desire, but she arched up, moaning softly.

Reaching down, he found the hem of her dress and pulled it up, exposing her legs. She gasped as he skimmed his hand along her inner thigh. Soft warmth greeted him, coaxing him higher where she was even softer and warmer. And wet.

Constantine stroked her sex, feeling how ready she was for him. Desperate to sink himself into her heat, he satisfied himself with using his fingers, sliding into her while he teased her clitoris.

Her hips moved to meet his thrusts as she clutched at his back and shoulder, her fingers digging into his clothing. Too damn much clothing. He wanted her nude and quivering, desperate with need as he was, beneath him.

The coach stopped. Lost in ecstasy, Constantine didn’t think they could already be home. However, the sound of the coachman climbing down from his seat was unmistakable.

Constantine hurriedly withdrew his hand and brought her skirts down to cover her. “We’re home.” He helped her sit upright.

Her face was still flushed, and he could well imagine her frustration. He shared it, but she’d been close to release. Leaning into her, he pressed a kiss beneath her ear before whispering, “We’ll finish this upstairs, where I will strip every bit of clothing from you and make you scream. I want to hear you come, Sabrina.” He felt the quiver that danced across her shoulders as she drew in and held her breath.

He couldn’t wait to get in the house.

The coachman opened the door, and Constantine climbed out. He reached up to help Sabrina down, then offered her his arm.

“You left these in the coach,” she murmured, handing him his hat and gloves.

He guided her into the house. Haddock met them in the foyer, instantly taking Constantine’s accessories from him. “Good evening, my lord, my lady.” He pinned his attention to Constantine. “An urgent missive arrived while you were out.”

Constantine could think of nothing more urgent than bedding his wife. “I’ll read it in the morning.”

Haddock grimaced. “The gentleman, Mr. Lambert, delivered it himself and said it was vitally important you read it tonight.” Bloody hell. Lambert was one of the other MPs working on the apothecaries bill.

Pivoting to Sabrina, Constantine took her hands. “I just need a few minutes to read this letter and respond to it.” That had to be the reason for the urgency—Lambert wanted a response tonight.

She gave him a warm, understanding smile. “It’s all right.” She leaned toward him and whispered, “I’ll wait up.”

His body, still teeming with unspent sexual energy, tightened with lust. He’d never felt more base, more primal. He ought to feel disgusted, but he felt…alive.

As she turned and went into the stair hall, Constantine couldn’t help but stare at the curve of her backside, barely discernible beneath the sweep of her scarlet gown. He longed to see it—and all of her—bare.

Soon. Very soon.

“My apologies, my lord,” Haddock said. “I hate to interrupt you and your ladyship. May I say it is nice to see you getting on so well.”

Constantine snapped his attention to the butler, surprised by his words. Rather, surprised Haddock would utter them. Apparently, Haddock was too, for his cheeks bore tiny flags of pink.

“Yes, you may,” Constantine said. “And thank you. Dare I say that you and Mrs. Haddock are an inspiration.”

The pink in Haddock’s cheeks deepened. “I am speechless, my lord. You are too kind. The note is in your study.”

Constantine turned, intent on concluding his business as quickly as possible. Upstairs, his future awaited.