Impassioned by Darcy Burke

Chapter 8

Constantine didn’t know how long he’d lain awake last night, his mind going over—and over—their coupling. Just when he convinced himself she’d enjoyed it, finally, doubt crept back in. Had she actually orgasmed? He wasn’t entirely certain. It had felt like it, but his experience was admittedly thin.

She hadn’t moaned or even touched him, aside from putting her legs around his waist, which he’d suggested she do. She’d made a few noises, but he’d also noted that she put her hand over her mouth. Had that been to keep herself from asking him to stop?

Then she’d done that thing with her hips—moving them in a…provocative way. Now he was back to believing she had enjoyed herself.

You could just bloody ask.

She would probably say she was doing what was necessary to have a child. That was, after all, why she’d come to London. If she could have an orgasm along the way, so much the better.

He couldn’t spend all day worrying over this; he needed to change for his racing meeting. Hopefully, he wouldn’t encounter her in their sitting room when he went upstairs. They’d managed to avoid each other all day, which was typical and probably for the best.

As he stood from behind his desk, a dark gray…something dashed into the study and disappeared behind the blue drapes framing the window. Haddock stepped in through the half-open door. For the first time in Constantine’s experience, the man looked harried.

“I beg your pardon, my lord, did, ah, something run in here?” The butler glanced about the room, his eyes darting wildly.

“Something, yes. What is going on, Haddock?”

“It’s a cat, my lord. Where did he go?”

A cat? What the devil was a cat doing in the house? Constantine went toward the draperies. “He disappeared behind these.” He grasped the thick fabric and pulled it aside only to see the same flash of gray take off back to the door.

Haddock turned and lunged forward. “Grayson!”

Grayson?

The butler’s foot must have caught the doorframe, for he went sprawling forward onto the floor over the threshold into the parlor. Constantine had never seen the man in such an ignominious state.

“John!” The voice of Constantine’s housekeeper was almost unrecognizable as the single word trilled at an impossibly high volume and pitch.

Mrs. Haddock rushed into the parlor and knelt beside her husband. In her late thirties, Mrs. Haddock possessed a small stature, which was at odds with her sense of command. She led the household with a firm but kind hand. She was also pretty, with an engaging smile and serene blue-green eyes that never failed to put one at ease. It was no wonder Haddock had married her three years ago.

“I’m fine,” Haddock grumbled as he got to his feet with his wife’s help.

Lady Aldington came into the parlor, her features a mask of concern beneath the brim of her bonnet, indicating she was on her way out. Her gaze went directly to the butler and housekeeper who stood together. Mrs. Haddock’s arm was around her husband’s waist.

“What happened?” the countess asked with alarm. “It sounded as if someone fell down.”

“Haddock tripped,” Constantine said. “There is a cat in the house.” He turned his attention to the butler. “How did that happen exactly?”

The butler and housekeeper exchanged sheepish looks. “It’s my cat,” Mrs. Haddock said.

Haddock put his arm around his wife’s shoulders and held her against his side. “It’s our cat. We began feeding it a few months ago. It was just a wee kitten.”

“And it was very cold outside,” Mrs. Haddock put in, her features taut. “So we let him come in at night.”

Constantine had never seen his butler and housekeeper like this. And it wasn’t just because of the obvious affection they were displaying toward each other. They were united, facing a situation they knew could get them into trouble, or worse, terminated. Constantine glanced toward his wife and wondered if they would ever behave like that.

“We deeply apologize, my lord,” Haddock said. “We will find Grayson with due haste and expel him from the house.”

Mrs. Haddock’s face paled, but she said nothing.

“You’ll do no such thing,” Lady Aldington said, coming farther into the room, her gloves clutched in one hand. She wore another ensemble Constantine had never seen before. This was a dark blue walking gown with a military-fashioned spencer sporting two vertical rows of gold buttons. “There is no harm in having a cat. Did you say his name was Grayson?”

“He is gray, my lady,” Mrs. Haddock said softly. “And he has been a bit like a son to us.” She looked up at her husband, emotion glowing in her gaze.

“Well, that is just lovely,” Lady Aldington whispered. She moved to stand near Constantine, close enough that he could smell her vanilla-apple scent. Suddenly, all he could think of was last night—the lush curve of her breast, the sweet clasp of her legs around him as he drove into her. “Allow them to keep the cat. Please.”

Constantine blinked as he pulled his thoughts from distraction. “He must be managed—contained. At least at certain times. He can’t run roughshod about the house when we have guests.” They rarely ever had guests, and even then, it was only family. Still, his father and Lady Aldington’s parents would likely be horrified to see an animal running about. The thought of it nearly made him laugh.

“Why are you smiling?” Lady Aldington asked, sounding bemused.

“No reason.” Constantine coughed. “We must find this cat at once. I take it this is the first time he’s run amok?”

“Yes, my lord,” Haddock replied, taking his arm from his wife.

Mrs. Haddock slid her arm from her husband’s waist and moved to the side. “I do apologize for this wholly inappropriate interlude.”

“Nonsense,” Lady Aldington said, surprising everyone in the room with her firm tone. “I’m glad you helped this poor kitten, and why shouldn’t you welcome him into your family? Is there anything we can do to coax Grayson out? Does he have a favorite treat or a toy?”

Constantine stared at the woman who was taking charge of this situation. He kept repeating himself, but by God she was different. Meanwhile, all he could think was where did this cat live? Did the Haddocks carry him upstairs to their suite of rooms on the uppermost floor? If so, how did he get outside from there?

However, rather than demand answers to these questions, he decided perhaps he should change a bit too. Indeed, why shouldn’t his married butler and housekeeper have a pet cat?

Because this isn’t their house!

The response speared into his head in his father’s voice, as most admonitions did. This one in particular pricked Constantine’s ire. It may not be the Haddocks’ house, but they effectively ran it. The household would be a shambles if not for them. So yes, they could have a bloody cat.

“I’ll go down to the kitchen to fetch a kidney. Those are his favorite.” Mrs. Haddock started toward the door.

“And I’ll find the stuffed mouse Mrs. Haddock made for him.” Haddock cocked his head to the side. ‘It doesn’t really look like a mouse, just a small stuffed…thing. We call it his mouse, however. He is rather good at catching the real ones, my lord. If that helps to soften your opinion.” The butler gave him a feeble smile before departing.

“Does my opinion seem hard?” Constantine threw the query out to the room at large, but since only his wife remained, she was the one to respond.

“You always seem…cool. Not hard, though.”

He turned toward her. “I thought you said I was dispassionate.”

“And cool. Perhaps.” Light swathes of pink flashed across her cheeks.

Dispassionate and cool were not wrong. That was who his father had schooled him to be. When Constantine thought of his siblings, those words didn’t come to mind. But perhaps this was who he truly was. Except why then did he have a sudden urge to show the countess that he could be heated and…impassioned?

“Perhaps I will be different too,” he murmured.

Her lips parted, and he wanted to kiss her in a thoroughly different fashion than he had last night. He’d never opened his mouth against hers or put his tongue inside or invited hers. Would she recoil if he attempted such a thing? She’d appeared to do that last night when he’d lightly touched her breast. But then she’d also seemed to enjoy his hand on her sex.

“There he is!” Sabrina dropped her gloves and flew after the gray streak as it dashed toward the bloody window draperies again.

“He loves drapes,” Constantine muttered as he joined the chase. “Careful. Cats have sharp claws.”

“Close the doors so he can’t get out!” She pulled the draperies aside, and the cat ran out into the room.

Constantine dove for the doors that led to the dining room and then for the one that opened to the corridor from the stair hall, slamming them closed more quickly and loudly than he normally would.

“He’s in your study again!” Lady Aldington called.

Turning on his heel, Constantine ran into the study and shut the door behind him. Lady Aldington was on her knees near the window.

“Is he hiding in the drapes again?” Constantine asked.

“Shh. I’m going to wait patiently. I think he’s scared.”

Constantine didn’t have all day. He had a racing club meeting and needed to go upstairs to change. But then the view of his wife’s backside could likely persuade him to ignore everything he had planned.

“I suppose we should fetch Haddock or Mrs. Haddock,” she suggested. “Grayson will likely feel more comfortable with them.” She looked back at Constantine over her shoulder. “You could go fetch one of them while I stay here.”

There was something very wrong with him. Watching her in this position made him want to strip her bare and take her from behind in the most obscene way. He imagined the bare flesh of her back, exposed as it had been at the rout last night. Blood rushed to his cock. What was happening to him? He’d never fantasized about her like this, certainly not to the extent he was in the past quarter bloody hour.

Just then, the cat ran from the draperies, his trajectory aimed for the door. Constantine threw himself backward and grasped for the ball of gray fur. He plucked up the animal and held it tightly. Which Grayson did not appreciate, for he swiped at Constantine’s chest.

He held the cat up. “No need to be rude. I’m only trying to help.”

Grayson stared at him with wide yellow eyes. He really was still a kitten, certainly not an adult, with whiskers that were much too large for his face.

“You’re a handsome lad,” Constantine said softly, recalling the kittens that had lived at Woodbreak in his youth. His mother had loved to care for the litters every spring.

Without warning, Grayson lashed out at Constantine’s chin with his paw.

“Ow!” Constantine dropped the cat and brought his hand to his chin.

“Oh no!” Lady Aldington stood and rushed to stand before him. “Did he scratch you?”

“Yes.” The pain in his chin was sharp. “Apparently I offended him by calling him handsome.”

“Cats are known to be particular.”

“Where did he go?”

“Back under the draperies.”

Constantine glared in that direction. “You’re an unsightly, unrepentant miscreant! Is that more to your liking?”

The countess sucked in a breath. “That’s not nice.”

“It’s a ploy,” Constantine whispered. “If he doesn’t like compliments, perhaps he prefers insults.”

“Oh.” Her eyes lit with mirth. She went back to the draperies and knelt once more. “Come out now, Grayson, you horrid little scamp.”

“Scamp may be too nice,” Constantine cautioned. He pulled his hand from his chin and saw that there was blood. Damn. Without a handkerchief, he pulled his cravat off and dabbed at the wound.

“Grayson, come on, you menace,” she coaxed in a singsong voice that made Constantine smile. Suddenly, a dark nose appeared beneath the hem of the curtain. “There you are, you fiend.”

A moment later, the cat crept carefully from the drape and sniffed at the countess. She held out her finger, which he practically inhaled in his efforts to conduct his olfactory investigation. The countess laid herself flat on the carpet and rolled to her side. “Is this better? Now I’m not lurking over you.”

Constantine moved closer—slowly and quietly—to obtain a better view. He just managed to see Grayson put his paw on Lady Aldington’s chest as if he were trying to push her onto her back. She must have thought the same thing, for she rolled to her back with a smile. “Is this better?”

In response, Grayson sniffed her some more before climbing onto her chest and sitting down as if he were a small loaf of dark gray bread.

Lady Aldington looked up at Constantine, her lips curling into the most charming smile he’d ever seen her wear. He was captivated. No, more than that. He simply couldn’t look away. Nor could he not smile in return.

“Grayson prefers you to me. Smart cat.”

A laugh escaped her lips, and Grayson started. The countess clapped her hand over her mouth, but her eyes still danced with amusement. Constantine started to laugh too, in spite of the still aching slash across his chin.

The door to the study opened, and Mrs. Haddock stood at the threshold. “Grayson! You naughty boy!”

The cat leapt off Lady Aldington and ran to his mama, who scooped him up with one arm. She held a small bowl of something—presumably kidney—in her other hand. “There you go,” she murmured as the cat dipped his face into the bowl. “I’m so sorry, my lord,” Mrs. Haddock said earnestly. “This will never happen again.”

Constantine honestly didn’t care if it did. The event had been the most entertaining and enlivening thing that had ever happened in this house. “So long as he stays out of sight when we have guests, Grayson is not a problem.” He lowered the cravat from his chin.

Mrs. Haddock’s jaw dropped. “Oh no, did he do that?”

“I’m afraid so,” Constantine glanced at the blood stains on the white silk.

“My deepest apologies, my lord. If you want us to turn him out, we will at once.” The housekeeper looked pained as she made the offer.

“Not at all. He’s a cat, and Lady Aldington has reminded me that they are particular. It seems he prefers the countess to me.”

“He also prefers me to Haddock,” Mrs. Haddock said with a commiserative nod. “Which causes poor Haddock a bit of distress, I’m afraid. Don’t tell him I told you.” Grayson began to twitch in her grasp. “I’d best get him downstairs. Again, my apologies. And gratitude.” After dipping a brief curtsey, she left, closing the door behind her, which Constantine found odd.

“See, Grayson does respond to insults,” Lady Aldington noted from the floor. “Mrs. Haddock called him naughty, and he went right to her.”

Constantine turned toward his wife as she rolled to her side. He crouched down to help her up. “I’m sorry to have left you down there.”

As she stood, they were practically in his each other’s arms, so close that he could lean down and kiss her as he’d thought of doing earlier.

“I’m quite all right.” She smiled broadly. “That was certainly entertaining.”

“I thought the same thing.”

“Did you?” She seemed genuinely surprised. Then she did the most remarkable thing, she lifted her hand and gently caressed his chin. “Does it hurt?”

“A bit.” He felt slightly off balance. This was not the behavior of someone who loathed him. Perhaps she was trying to make the best of their marriage, as he was hoping to do.

She glanced toward the open neck of his shirt, and he could have sworn she blushed the barest amount. “You should go upstairs and clean it. Perhaps apply some of the salve you used on your hand.”

He was tempted to ask if she would help him, but that sounded rather like flirting, and he didn’t flirt. But he wanted to. With her.

She lowered her hand, and he was unaccountably disappointed. “That was very kind of you to allow them to keep their cat, especially after he wounded you.”

“Cats are cats. My mother used to let us tend the kittens at Woodbreak when we were children. I’d all but forgotten that.”

“How lovely,” she said softly, her eyes sparkling with warmth. Again, he was struck by her demeanor. How could he think she still hated him as she had in the beginning? “You like cats then?”

“I never gave it much thought—not in years. But I suppose I don’t mind them.”

“I love that he seems to be a family member for the Haddocks. I feel as if we caught a glimpse of who they really are today.” She glanced away briefly. “It makes you think about how we all put up a façade for the roles we play, whether we are in service or peers of the realm.”

She was talking about him. Did she see him as having a façade?

Or was she referring to herself? Was she now playing the role of happy countess in order to have a child?

Her gaze dipped to where her gloves lay on the floor. “I should be going.”

Constantine went to retrieve the accessories. When he handed them to her, his fingers brushed her hand, and the connection raced through him, heating his blood and quickening his pulse. Ignoring the sensations, he asked, “Where are you off to?”

“I’m visiting the modiste to pick up a ball gown. Then I shall pay a call on Mrs. Renshaw.”

“Do you have plans for this ball gown?” He wondered if it exposed as much of her back as last night’s ensemble.

“I thought I might wear it to the Hargrove ball on Saturday. Are you planning to attend?”

“I will now that you are.”

Another flash of surprise brightened her gaze. “Will we go together then?”

“I can’t see why not. If I’d known you were going to the rout last night, I would have accompanied you.” It was the courteous thing to do, and they were, for better or worse, married.

You want to go with her, a voice at the back of his mind whispered.

“I assumed you would be late at Westminster, as you so often are.” The typical stiffness of their dialogue had crept back after the ease of their earlier conversation. Because of a cat. Perhaps he should have Haddock find another.

Could that conviviality extend to the bedchamber? Or would things continue to be tense? Last night had been a slight improvement, but Constantine still felt as though there was a canyon between them. Perhaps he should consult with Lucien’s tutor. What harm could come from a meeting? As Lucien had said, they didn’t need to have sexual intercourse for Constantine to learn what he needed to.

“I can make accommodations,” he said with regard to accompanying her to events.

“Oh. I should not have assumed,” she said softly. “I’ll endeavor not to do that in future. Shall we make a point of sharing our social plans?”

“I think that would be beneficial. And don’t apologize. I have been too busy, and perhaps I should not be. I should have accompanied you to the rout last night, and I should not have left.”

She hesitated a moment, her eyes locked on him with perhaps a glimmer of disbelief in their depths. “I had Evie at my side.”

Evie.Evangeline Renshaw. “You have become quite friendly with Mrs. Renshaw. I didn’t even realize you knew each other. I will pay more attention to your friends and acquaintances.”

She arched a brow at him. “Why? So you can decide if they are appropriate?”

His eyes widened briefly. “Heavens no, why would you think that?”

Her lips parted, and she glanced away. “My apologies. I am used to my parents dictating everything I did, including who I could become friends with.”

“I understand,” he said wryly. “My father voices his opinion on nearly every aspect of my life.”

“He still does that?” At his nod, she added, “Well, I’m…sorry. He should recognize you are your own man and don’t require his opinion—or approval—about anything.”

Her support lit something inside him, spreading an unfamiliar warmth. “Yes, he should.”

“To answer your question, Mrs. Renshaw and I have only recently become acquainted. I like her a great deal. She’s been very helpful, particularly with my new wardrobe.”

“Then I shall thank her. The gown you wore last night was stunning. As is your walking costume.” He glanced over her but didn’t dare look too long lest he start undressing her in his head once more.

“I was afraid you didn’t approve of my dress last night.”

He heard the uneasiness underlying her tone and regretted his behavior at the rout. “I was surprised by it.” By you. “I apologize if my comments made you upset or uncomfortable. You must wear what you wish.”

“Even if it displays too much flesh?” The question was dangerously close to flirtatious.

Constantine still couldn’t bring himself to flirt in return. Because what if she wasn’t being coy? What if she was genuinely concerned? He wanted to alleviate any apprehension she may have. “I trust you to dress appropriately. I cannot, however, promise not to feel a strong possession if other gentlemen feast upon the display.”

Possession.

Her attention dipped to his open neckline once more, provoking another flash of longing. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she murmured.

“I need to go change before my racing club meeting.” He said this in response to his state of undress and also to prompt himself to go. Strangely, that was proving difficult. “Afterward, I plan to call on my father to discuss your becoming Cassandra’s sponsor.”

Her red-gold brows rose. “Thank you.”

“You’re certain this is what you wish? You’ll have to attend a great many events, and my father will be watching to see how Cassandra’s Season progresses.”

She hesitated, and he glimpsed conflict in her expression. “Yes, I’m sure. I want to do it.”

“Very well. I’ll speak with him and let you know what he says this evening. Shall we dine together then? I will not be at Westminster since it is Wednesday.” His lungs squeezed as he awaited her response.

Exhaling, she smiled. “That would be lovely.”

He breathed a sigh of relief. Mayhap she wasn’t just seeking a child at any cost, and there was more behind her new behavior. “Excellent, I’ll look forward to it.” He stood aside and gestured to the door. “After you, my lady.”

“Thank you.” She didn’t move for a moment, then took a final glance at his exposed neck and left the study.

Perhaps there was hope for them yet. Another reason to move things along with the help of a tutor. Constantine would send a note to Lucien immediately.