Lady Phillipa's Peril: Regency Romance Suspense Series ( Book 3) (Lords of Sussex 4) (7 page)

Delmare jumped up to face Demetrius, kicking the seat away from him. ‘Dandiprat? By God, I’ll see you outside for that, you clunch.’

‘Demetrius, I will never speak to you again if you cause a fracas.’ Phillipa said firmly.

Turning to Delmare, she said, ‘Please, you look like a couple of cocks jutting your beaks. The dowager is frail, and this could put her back in the bed from which she has so bravely risen for the wedding.’ She looked at Delmare, her eyes pleading, quite comfortable with telling an outright lie; the dowager was fitter than ladies half her age.

Demetrius raised his eyes to the ceiling, ‘Missy at her stories again.’ He spun on his heel whilst Delmare sat down.

‘Sir, you demean yourself with even acknowledging him. Please ignore him; he is a cork-brained gammon.’

‘Hmm – methinks I shall have to take him to task.’

‘Sir, please I will not appreciate any distemper – you will ruin our wedding celebrations with any brawls or duels.’

‘Well said my pretty, of course. I shall just give him a good hiding in private.’

Phillipa tutted, but concentrated once more on the sketching. ‘I think the points of your shirt would detract from the line of your jaw. So—’

‘No – please, keep them in, even dramatize them, I went to great lengths to keep a la mode, albeit I do not wish to join the Pinks.’

‘Hmm, Demetrius is forever languishing over the fashion plates, indeed; his collars are now so stiff and the points so high he cannot hardly turn his head. There was another gentleman at dinner last night with the same problem. Surely, they cannot stay in fashion for long?’

‘My dear they are as we call it ‘the first stare a la mode’. You ladies pay more than enough attention to your dress, in fact, your whole lives seem to focus on such.’

‘Not so, my lord,’ Phillipa looked up quickly. ‘I have better things to do than sigh over dresses.’

‘So, what things capture your attention?’

‘Well for one, I have come to the conclusion that my life is quite shallow.  It was startling, as I only realised the emptiness of my sojourn on this earth, as I cajoled my fiancé to allow the twins to travel with us to Brussels.  I was explaining the need for company, for someone to talk with. I then proceeded to inform him how important a role, chatter played in a lady’s life.’

‘Really, I would not have guessed that,’ he said, his lips curving in a mischievous grin. 

‘Now you tease; I described how important chatter and gossip were to me, and in so doing, felt as if my brain fell into the abyss.’

‘That’s putting it a bit strong.’

‘But it is, can’t you see; we only have this life and what is its purpose?’

‘Well you ladies play such an important role, bearing the next heir, prolonging the blood lines.’

'So do horses my lord, cows as well I believe.’

He raised his eyebrows; she admired how they winged up looking devilish..

‘Hmm, I see you have nothing to say.’

‘Horses are an important part of our lives, and so are you women, where would we be without them and you?’

’You jest sir? You dare to pair me with a horse?’

Seeing her glower, he realized this pretty miss was serious. ‘My apologies, but I do not understand your consternation?’

‘Oh, so you would be quite happy to muck out my stables would you, or maybe clear the slurry from around my hooves?’

‘Come now, you ladies have everything to live for, a fine home, food, dress, carriages; m’dear the list is long.’

‘Oh yes, and the shackles go quite well with the halter round my neck.’

He frowned, ‘You cannot expect me to be in accord with your revolutionary views.’

‘So you do not opine on this?’

‘Well I have never given it much thought.’ His mind was more upon her slender neck, and the delicious swell of her bosoms.

‘Neither have centuries of men before you. Yet I ask you now, what think you of the abolition of slavery? Were you agreeable?’

‘All for it.’

‘So can your tiny brain extend to the plight of women?’

Affronted, he leant back, ‘Egad, you try me madam. How can you put slavery and women together so?’

Huffing, Phillipa put in the last stroke of her sketch. ‘There now, finished.
I profess I am pleased with it; I think I have captured a true likeness.’

‘May I see it?’

‘But of course,’ she replied handing him the sketch pad.

Seeing the glitter in her eyes, he felt a ripple of pleasure run through him. She did have some feelings for him. Looking down at her work, he spluttered, egad, you – you – I have no words.’ His face reddened, ‘If you wore breeches why I’d – demme what can I say?’

‘Thrilled? Proud? ’ Her smile broadened.

He gazed down again, seeing a true likeness of his face; it was the rings in his nose, the nostrils snorting puffs of smoke that irked. Then, there was the large head and the tiny spindly body, the long thin legs crossed over, as if in need of the latrine and to top it all, an oversized backside puffing clouds of wind. He looked up, his anger melting, his mouth quirking, with which he burst into laughter, so much so tears streamed down his face. Some people looked up, but then turned back to their cards.  ‘You little minx. An artist indeed.’ Rolling it up, he placed it on the table.

‘Are you not going to show it around?’

‘Of course not. I would be forever at anyone’s mercy, the man with rings in his nose, farting wind. Good lord.’ Taking out a snowy kerchief, he wiped the tears from his eyes. Leaning back, he folded his arms staring at the lovely face besmirched with charcoal, the tousled dark curls, the wildness in her eyes. She was indeed fascinating, unlike any other woman he’d encountered. How did one behave with such a dangerous mind as hers? 

‘Hmm yes there is that, you could become known as the Big Fart couldn’t you?’

‘Don’t.’ he gasped, ‘don’t, I shall crack my ribs laughing. Look, they’re staring at us.’

Phillipa looked around to see Hector craning his neck over to them. Waving, she smiled, and blew him a kiss, upon which he beamed, and went back to his cards.

‘What am I going to do with you? You are an obnoxious and irritating woman, and you scare the life out of me. What goes on in that—’

‘Don’t you dare say "pretty little head", if you do I shall wave that parchment around for all to see.’ Grinning, she packed away her charcoal, and made to rise from her chair.

‘Where are you going?’

‘Why back to the stables, tis time for my bag of straw.’

‘Come, it is such a balmy night, shall we not take a stroll in the gardens, there are plenty of people out there.’ He said, tongue in cheek, longing to dip his fingers into the low décolletage.

Phillipa peered through the French windows, ‘Two I think.’

‘Plenty enough and the grounds are well lit.’

Pursing her lips, she stared at him, and then laughed,

‘What is it?’

'I keep seeing the rings in your nose, oh dear.’

‘You’re  making me laugh again, stop it now Phillipa, stop; they will think us a pair of lunatics ready for bedlam.’

Buttoning up her reticule, she rose, and nodded her head. ‘First sir, I have not given you permission to use my familiar name, tis your ladyship to you.  Second, I shall just take this pinafore off and then, yes; I would like a stroll with you; tis so hot in here and a wretched smell of tobacco hangs in the air.’

‘But the men did not smoke in here,’

I know, but tis a good enough excuse for Hector, if he questions me. Not that he will.’

‘I think not; you have him well heeled.’

‘Never, he looks upon me as his little duck, or pet in the best instances. One of these days, I shall start bleating, then I can be his little lamb.’

‘Never, methinks ‘she wolf’ would better describe you.’

‘Hmm, that reminds me, I have not filed my teeth today, so beware.’ Looking over to Hector, she smiled, ‘Well I never; your Lieutenant has cast his affections to another – see.’

Looking over, Damien saw Alleyne grinning foolishly, whilst turning the pages for Amelia to sing. ‘What happened to the lovely Eloise Templeton?’

‘Why a lord I think, see Lord Tenbury is making overtures. I must say he should really cut down the points on his collar; they’re so stiff; he cannot turn his head either. He reminds me of a martinet with a wooden head, banging his little drum, as he moves stiffly around. See he is doing the same actions to talk to her.’

‘Hmm.’ Delmare fingered his own collar points.

Phillipa laughed, ‘No; yours are not so exaggerated, but enough for a first stare a la mode. In fact, I must say they look rather fine.’

‘Oh, at last a compliment.’

‘Come, are you ready?’ Phillipa asked, turning to the French windows. 

‘A moment,’ he said, walking over to her. ‘Now turn around, I would undo your pinafore for you.’

‘Oh I do declare, I am always forgetting. Mary, my maid, is forever scolding me, saying I look like a scullery girl.’

As he undid the ribbons, he felt a rush of affectionate warmth run through him. She had caught his heart. This was not about the bedroom; this was about emotions, feelings – love? Yes, at last – love. He felt the urge to draw her to him, to cup those delightful buttocks, to feel their roundness in his hands.

‘If you give me a moment, I will just go and tell Hector where I will be.’

To conceal his arousal, he picked up the roll of parchment and held it across his crotch.  She had such an effect on him; it was difficult to control the surge of passion. He watched her almost glide across the room, and gently tap her fiancé on the shoulder. Bending down, she whispered in his ear, and then kissed him on the cheek. Delmare grimaced, that looked so familiar; they were very close. Yet even though she was taken, he could not curb his own feelings for her.

Walking down the well-lit path, he eventually steered her towards an ancient oak. The low lying branches and wooden seat built around the trunk was a halo for lovers. Walking over, he touched the planks, ‘Tis quite damp, hang on a moment.’ Taking off his jacket, he spread it on the seat.

‘Oh no, you will quite ruin it; the old wood will stain, and it is your uniform.’

‘I have several others, in fact; Hector put part of his vast wardrobe at our disposal. It saved travelling back to our apartments in town. Now, shall we continue our conversation?’ he enquired on sitting down. ‘I think we left off, where you paired women and slavery.  How could you possibly compare them such? And where do horses come into this. High steppers are cattle; however, you are a beautiful human being.’ He surreptitiously put his arm around the back of the seat, a few inches away from her shoulders.  

‘You still do not appreciate the analogy sir. What freedom does a high stepper have, except to be hacked, raced, and  bred, with meticulous attention paid to the bloodline.’

‘And you think women have the same fate?’

‘Yes, if not more. Reflect on the word ‘bred’; if a woman does not produce an heir for the estate, it is often known for the husband to cast her off.’

‘Hardly, I know of many who treasure their daughters, and have actually entailed the estate to them and their offspring.’

‘Tis rare and you know it. Look at the London season, it is no more than a cattle market; the debutantes marched out for observation and the highest bids.’

‘Hmm I will give you that, but tis all a matter of practicality.’

‘For whom sir?’

He frowned, his arm now edging nearer.  Glancing over, he saw the nape of her neck shimmer in the moonlight. He longed to stroke it, kiss it. ‘For all concerned, the women are protected, cherished—’

‘Fed and watered, and led out for breeding. On top of that, we wear shackles of rules upon rules, reined in, to observe our behaviour, to speak when spoken to, to obey our lord and master’s word, to bow to his every whim. And please take your arm away from my neck.’ 

‘Come, I am innocent of any intent, why I was guarding your neck from insects.’

‘Oh don’t, the only insect around here has five fingers. As for the rules, why should we women have to have to curb our words whilst you men say what you will?’

‘No it’s just—’

‘No? We women also give of our bodies, to produce the next heir and a second, and also our parents look for a suitor with blunt, the more the better. Why my mama was insistent I marry Hector for his ample means and his estates.  What is that if not giving one’s body for money?’

‘Love?’ his arm drew nearer to that delightful skin, whilst he shifted closer in the seat.

Unaware, she said, ‘Oh come now, most marriages are arranged, there is no love my lord, and well you know it. Why I expect you are having a jolly time now before you settle down with a prim, dull little woman to bare your children and feed the bloodline.’

‘Hmm adroitly said madam. You make me fair squirm with guilt,’ he murmured, playing with a tendril of her hair.

‘Really?’

‘I still fail to see why—’

‘I just can’t believe this, how can you be so blind, so conditioned.  And stop doing that.’

‘Ma’am I am not out to seduce you right in the middle of the lawns. Please, don’t be so cruel. I just wanted to touch the sheer silk of your hair.’

  ‘Oh very well, but no more than that. Now as I was saying, a man has the right to ravish his wife, even if she refuses. And what are the results? Have you thought of the high mortality for childbirth? A woman increases, in giving birth,  the placenta breaks, and she dies in agony of sepsis, as did our inspirer, Mary Wollstonecraft. Have you an answer to that?’

‘She was ravished?’

‘No, not she, but such is the peril many women face in childbirth.’

‘I cannot change the course of law and behaviour based on centuries of history, but still you give me much to think of,’ he muttered, unpinning a long lock.

‘Sir, mind your manners.’ But to his relief, she did not pin it back, rather she flushed, and tried to ignore his action. To him, it was a yes to continue. Phillipa could not ignore the feelings racing through to her stomach, her heart almost bouncing in her chest. At a loss what to do, she continued her dialogue, trying to stem the tremor in her voice. ‘I am not asking you to change the law, not yet. However, we desire to change people’s views, that is a start. I despair when I think of the enormity of the task. It will take many years for any of our hopes to come to fruition, maybe just the merest hint in our lifetime.’

Seeing the expression of almost desolation on her beautiful face, his arm fell from the seat onto her shoulders. ‘Come my sweet, despair not; at least, you and your friends are beginning to make yourselves known.’

‘Have you heard of our little group?’

‘We are aware of it,’ he said, twisting the lock in his fingers.

‘So what is the opinion then?’ she said, her heart now fluttering, with shivers climbing up her spine, as his arm came around her shoulders again, drawing her closer.

Trying to remain composed, he said, ‘Not much, many defer to Rousseau, who advocates, and I quote “women should be educated for the pleasures of men.” Yet I fair frowned upon the idea.’

She sighed, saying nothing, as her shoulder trembled beneath his arm.

‘Sadly that is the philosophy of most men.’ he said,   And indeed, he was gaining pleasure here and now, seducing this sweet creature.

‘How ignorant. Mary was vitriolic in her attack on James Fordyce and John Gregory, who sought to deny women the rights of an education….’ Her voice faltered away, as his fingers stroked her neck.

His arm gathered strength, and he pulled her yet closer. ‘You are a strange and brave little lady, and I am entranced with you.’

‘There you go again; you do not take me seriously,’ she said tremulously, her chin lifting towards him, her lips moist and parting, her bosom heaving.

‘I promise you I will think on it.  At present, I have other things on my mind.’

'Such as?’

‘This.’ With that, he seized her, pressing his lips down on hers, forcing her mouth to open to him.