“Well,” he groaned, diverting his kisses from mouth to safer facial features, “between words and actions, I conclude that qualifies as properly ravished. Indeed, we are both satisfied, dearest wife. Yet as anxious as I am to extend the ravishment, I have other plans for you. Let me pamper you as you deserve, and by morning your great fortune in marrying me will be indisputable!”
His crooked grin and pompous chuckle were infectious. Georgiana laughed and mockingly nodded in agreement with his arrogant tease even as anticipatory shivers flickered to life. Whatever he meant, she trusted that their first night of marriage would be as stupendous as promised.
Hours later, Georgiana floated through the layers of a lovely dream in which she was nestled within a warm cocoon of softest silk and down feathers. Her hazy memory could not recollect a dream where peace was as tangible. So real were the feelings of her dream that she carried them with her when passing the final barrier between sleep and awake, the serenity preventing her from experiencing the tiniest twinge of alarm by the unfamiliar bed or sight of a man’s bare chest inches away from her nose. For five minutes or more, she dazedly observed the steady rise and fall of firm muscles as he breathed, the dim light of pre-dawn casting the fair skin into shadows. Gradually, her awareness extended to note a large hand resting protectively on her waist and a heavy thigh lying across her leg. Blinking to wipe the film from her eyes, she swept her gaze upward, happily smiling and sighing as reality reasserted itself.
My
husband
Sebastian.
He remained soundly asleep, lying on his side with a hand folded under the pillow by his cheek. Golden stubble dotted his jawline and chin, thick lashes fluttered with the faint movements of his closed eyes, and dense blond curls spiked in a mishmash pattern. She had never beheld him in sleep, but the vision he presented at this hour was not the only reason she was abruptly pierced with a surge of emotions so extreme that breathing became labored and tears clouded her sight.
God, how I love him!
The cry came from the depths of her soul, followed in the same mental breath with the question:
How
could
I
have
ever
imagined
loving
anyone
but
him?
She rarely thought of Lord Caxton. It was as if years had passed since their last encounter after her illness. When she did think of him, it was only to ponder in amazement the mystery of how his presence had once affected her when the mere thought of Sebastian was enough to send her senses spiraling a hundredfold beyond. Once acknowledged and sanctioned, their mutual captivation exploded, the barrage of emotional and physical zealousness overwhelming while wondrous at the same time.
And
now
we
are
married
and
I
have
felt
the
power
of
your
love. I am intoxicated.
Gently, she pressed her fingertips to the skin over his heart. Tenderness mingled with aching desire as she scanned over his upper torso. Heightened senses perceived those unseen parts of his strong, vital body touching her skin under the bed coverings. Vividly, she visualized a great percentage of his figure, since she had studied as much of him as possible before they fell into exhausted slumber. Yet as titillating as the images, it was her heart that swelled with longing.
For an hour after his comment about pampering, he had done precisely that. Starting with a bowl of warm fragrant water and soft towels he had carefully washed away the telltale evidence of her virginity. Georgiana had blushed crimson at the idea, but within seconds his light touch and humorous commentary had dispelled the embarrassment. Besides, the harsh truth was that she did ache amid the satisfied tranquility, and the aromatic water followed by a gentle but comprehensive massage with a scented oil lotion was therapeutic.
His generous ministrations also provided ample opportunity to examine her new husband at length since he remained naked the entire time! Of course, so did she, another minor embarrassment she rapidly forgot in the thrill of observing his masculine perfection and the blatant enjoyment he obtained from observing and touching her. Innocent she may still be to some degree, but his aroused state left no doubt how affected he was, but despite her attempts to take the activity into another more intimate direction, he insisted on caring for her.
Then he commanded her to turn onto her stomach, so he could focus on her backside and the next moment, she was waking up to a faint sunrise seeping in through the drapes and a downy-haired chest before her face!
Taken as a whole, the urgency to wake him up immediately and see what could be accomplished first thing in the morning was powerful.
However,
she reasoned,
he
selflessly
checked
his
passion
so
I
could
sleep
and
recuperate, so it is only polite for me to do the same.
In time, she would discover that Sebastian vastly preferred she
not
be polite when it came to wanting to make love! Yet for the present, she opted to slither out of his loose embrace, recognizing as she moved that a visit to the water closet to freshen up was a capital idea.
Returning to the bedchamber after attending to physical necessities, and taking the time to tidy herself and stretch muscles that were tight, but not as sore as she would have expected, her eyes alit first on an unmoved husband. The defined outline under the sheet and exposed parts of his body wreaked havoc on her resolve to be polite, so she quickly shifted her gaze to the pianoforte.
Wrapped in a blanket found folded at the end of the bed, Georgiana sat on the bench and picked up the sheets of music and lyrics from the song he had written and sung for her last night. Softly, she hummed the tune, marveling afresh at how brilliant he was even with a simple ballad and moved to tears at the beauty of his love poem to her.
“I thought we had a bargain not to leave our bed or play piano while the other is asleep. Was I dreaming that, Mrs. Butler?”
“I have not touched a single key and only left our bed for personal requirements.”
“Yet you remain there and not here, with your bereft husband, and your poise is suspiciously like one about to pound out a tune.”
“Circumstantial evidence, Lord Nell, leads to wild conclusions.”
He threw back the sheet, laughing as he rolled out of the bed. “Very well, I concede my error.” He sat next to her, leaning for a light kiss to her lips. “Good morning, beautiful wife. You slept well, I trust?”
“Very well. You?”
“Never better. Waking was not as I anticipated, however. But thankfully my panic was brief when I saw you here. You like your song?”
“No. I love it, adore it, will treasure it forever, and think it is the greatest song ever written or that ever shall be.”
“High praise from a composer of your caliber, Viscountess. I am humbled.” He cupped her face between both hands, this kiss intense and extended. His voice was rough when he asked, “May I request you play the song for me, my love? I want to hear it from your fingertips while I serenade like a lover should.”
The subtle differences in the music as played with her smaller hands and delicate touch did not diminish the effect. Sebastian sang in a lower key, his timbre subdued and husky, all the while staring at her face. He did not touch her while she played but direct contact was not necessary.
It was distracting in a thrilling way, Georgiana missing beats and losing the cadence a number of times. The final bars were rushed through, the last chords ringing in the air when she turned to him and slipped her arms over his shoulders.
“Now I have a request: take me back to bed so we can create beautiful music together.”
Sebastian hastily scooped her into his arms, chuckling as he walked to the bed. “Create beautiful music together is it? Interesting idiom, love. I like it! I believe we can designate that phrase as our standard. The Butlers, creating beautiful music together in every imaginable way.”
“Yes,” she agreed, the word uttered as a sibilant sigh against his lips.
It was a promise and a prediction.
Coda
Some years later
Georgiana stood before the floor-length mirror turning side to side and leaning in for close viewing, the final inspection a ritual of sorts that aided in the calming of her nerves. Then with a deep, cleansing breath and nod at her reflection, she completed the necessary custom and left the room.
As always, her husband greeted her with a smile. He interrupted the conversation he was having with the Marquis de Marcov and excused himself politely, even though Adrien waved him away and winked at Georgiana from across the room. Sebastian unhurriedly strolled to her, Georgiana amazed as she always was at his utter lack of nervousness.
“You are stunning, my lady. If I had my way in planning your wardrobe, you would never wear another color but blue. Are you satisfied that you appear divine?”
His tease was not lost on his wife. He knew of her anxiety and the routine she went through each time in order to ease the worst of the tremors.
“I am satisfied that each ruffle and strand of hair is where it should be,” she retorted. “That is as good as it gets. Have you checked…?”
“I have checked several times,” he answered the familiar question before completed, “most recently not fifteen minutes ago. In addition, I asked Lord de Valday to lend his practiced eye. Duchesse de Bourgogne’s
chambre
de
concert
has proven to possess excellent acoustics. Do not worry, my dear.”
She opened her mouth to express additional concerns as Sebastian anticipated and had his prepared responses for—the game was as sure as the rising of the sun—but this time his teasing placation to settle her jitters was unnecessary.
“My dearest Georgiana! How extraordinarily beautiful you are! Your gown, lovely friend, is elegance supreme!”
“It is of the latest Paris fashion created by the fabulous dressmaker Baronne Zoë de Valday-Farrenc whose designs are all the rage.”
Zoë fluttered her fan and mimed embarrassment at Georgiana’s praise. “Such sweet words you say. Why look at me, I am blushing!” She patted her well-rouged but otherwise ivory cheeks. “I have not conquered all of French fashion as yet, however, and the
Journal
des
Dames
et
des
Modes
has only featured my gowns sixteen times!”
“Ah yes, but you were on the cover twice and last month honored with a full spread, Baronne,” Sebastian reminded her. “Few others have scored a coup of this magnitude. Every Parisian modiste must be green with envy.”
“Oh, they are! Positively rotting!
Merci, monsieur
, you always cheer my gloominess.”
Sebastian bowed. “Delighted to be of service, Baronne. We would never wish for you to be gloomy,” he said, stressing the last word with a humorous inflection. Zoë coyly slapped his arm with her fan, understanding his jest. The Baronne de Valday-Farrenc was perpetually gay, as they all knew.
“Pardon the intrusion, but my lady has sent word that I am requested to join her and take our seats. More than likely, there is socializing required beforehand, but I shall bow to the marquise’s commands.” Lord de Marcov inclined his head toward Zoë and Georgiana, lingering with the latter. “Georgiana, because I am certain your stifled English husband has inadequately verbalized how sublime your beauty and radiance, especially in this resplendent garment created by the equally resplendent Baronne de Valday-Farrenc, allow me to eloquently do so.” And then the marquis launched into a two-minute adjective-laced declaration so purple in prose that Georgiana’s cheeks were flaming even as she laughed until tears stung her eyes.
“Well done, de Marcov,” Sebastian congratulated when his friend finally exhausted himself. “Indeed, it was better than this stifled Englishman could accomplish.”
“Thank you, Adrien. Your praise has accomplished what pounds of rouge could not.” She lifted on her toes to kiss his cheek, de Marcov following with a courtly kiss to her fingers.
There were few men Sebastian would ever allow to flagrantly flirt with his wife. Adrien de Marcov, his oldest and dearest friend and husband to his sister Vivienne, was one of them. The other joined the gaily chatting quartet at the same moment that the Marquis de Marcov departed to join his marquise.
Frédéric de Valday glided forward, his sensuous gaze trained on Georgiana as it did on every woman he met. As always, her hand was captured by his with adroitness truly awe-inspiring to behold, and then his husky voice smoothly pierced through to momentarily render the group silent and mesmerized.
“Beautiful lady, my heart suspends the rhythm of its beats at the first glance into your eyes and gaze upon your loveliness. Magnificent, splendid enchantress Georgiana! All Paris falls at your feet in awe and—”
“Frédéric, my dear friend, time is short and my nervousness extreme, so I must stem the tide of adoration, as delightful and appreciated as it is under normal circumstances.”
“
Pardonnez-moi!
Imbecile I am, fair Georgiana, to forget your persistent anxiety! You have no reason to harbor distress, as you shall be brilliant as always!”
“As I assure her each time, and since it continually comes true, one would imagine she would believe it herself. Thank you, my lord, for the support. You can forestall the inevitable question by telling us that all is in order on the stage.”
“
Oui.
I personally inspected the scene and ensured that nothing had been disturbed.”
“Are you ever nervous, Frédéric?”
“
Moi?
” His brows rose above eyes wide with genuine astonishment at Georgiana’s query. “Never! With talent as prodigious as mine, why in the world would I be nervous? Inconceivable!”
“Georgiana!”
As one, they turned to the singsong voice, smiling in unison at the enchanting woman bearing down on them with a mysterious combination of stateliness and verve remarkable to witness.
Georgiana dropped into a deep curtsy. “Your Grace.”
“Pish! Bother with such nonsense! Yvette I am to you, my friend, never ‘Your Grace’ or the Duchesse de Bourgogne—unless we are in public, of course,” Yvette finished with a satisfied smirk and chuckle. Then she tossed her head, ebony curls bobbing. “Transcendent you are in Zoë’s gown. Exquisite, my sweet sister,” she gushed, leaning to kiss her twin on the cheek. “I see another plate in the
Journal
des
Dames
et
des
Modes
after tonight! Now”—she turned back to Georgiana and Sebastian—“all is ready and our guests have taken their seats. Oh, the ripples of excitement! Duc de Bourgogne and I shall be the talk of Paris tomorrow and for months to come! Perhaps years! And my Zoë and Frédéric too! And you two of course!” She grasped both their hands, enthusiasm visibly oozing from her pores. “I know you will dazzle once again! I have an introduction prepared that will be in every newspaper in France! Come”—she gestured to her brother and sister—“it is time.”
“Am I not to stay behind stage for your glorious introduction?”
Yvette patted her brother on the cheek. “No,
petit
frère
. Your time will come later. Trust me! None shall doubt the eminence of your superb tenor and the timing will increase the excellence of the evening. I shall explain! Now come!”
And with a flurry of skirts and blown air kisses, the Duchesse de Bourgogne imperiously led the parade out of the room, the Vicomte de Valday and Baronne de Valday-Farrenc as regal as their sister.
Sebastian and Georgiana stared after the trio affectionately until the door closed behind, leaving them alone in the quiet room.
“Her Grace certainly has a presence about her, does she not?”
“They all do,” Georgiana agreed with a laugh. “When I first met Yvette, she told me she would be famous and marry the grandest duke in France.”
“She has succeeded, I daresay.” He looked at his wife and reached to toy with the ringlets of golden hair hanging at the nape of her neck. “Of course you know the introduction will be wildly overblown?”
“We will have much to live up to once Yvette is finished.”
They walked to the door separating the waiting room from the de Bourgogne
chambre
de
concert
and peeked carefully through the crack. On the large raised platform sat two shining grand pianos. Enormous bouquets of flowers lined the edges of the stage, but otherwise the space was empty, with the instruments the focus. The hall extending away from the stage was filled with padded chairs in precise rows, all two hundred and fifty rapidly being taken by the elegantly dressed luminaries invited to the performance. A vast majority of the guests were known after years of periodically dwelling in Paris. Yet what made this particular event special to Georgiana and Sebastian were those who had traveled with them for this journey abroad.
Georgiana’s eyes rested on the front row. Her brother Fitzwilliam was there with Elizabeth, sitting side-by-side as they forever had, bodies as close as possible without touching. At the moment William was leaning to his left and in conversation with their sons, Alexander and Michael, while Lizzy’s head was bent to better hear the words of her right-sided seatmate, Lady Simone Fitzwilliam. Colonel Fitzwilliam, Lady Simone’s husband and Georgiana’s beloved cousin, sat to the right of his wife and was laughing at what was probably a joke coming from his stepson Hugh Pomeroy. Georgiana’s uncle, Dr. George Darcy, was also laughing at the mysterious quip, the broad grin then turned toward his wife in the chair next to him, the latter glowing with love as she listened to her spouse repeat the jest, her laughter added to the noise. Georgiana’s one-time companion, the former Mrs. Annesley, now Mrs. George Darcy, blushingly accepted the tender kiss her rebellious husband planted on her lips, the two sharing a brief, passionate glance leaving no doubt as to the fiery nature of their marriage.
Georgiana scanned over the crowd, as did Sebastian, both pleased to share this time with those they loved. Lord and Lady Matlock, the Marchioness of Warrow, three of Sebastian’s sisters, the Dowager Countess of Essenton, Major General and Mrs. Artois, Mr. and Mrs. Charles Bingley, and a number of younger cousins, nieces, and nephews claimed the first several rows.
Silence gradually fell as the duchesse ascended the steps and walked to the exact middle of the stage.
“Here we go,” Sebastian murmured into his wife’s ear. “Want to place bets on how long this will take? Your nervousness will disappear because you will be falling asleep.”
“Madams and messieurs! Tonight you will be delighted with a musical extravaganza unprecedented…”
“What did I tell you?” He chuckled, earning a
shush
from Georgiana, but she too released a short giggle.
As Sebastian predicted, Yvette had barely begun! The introduction was not horribly long, but the prepared phrases had Sebastian and Georgiana shaking with suppressed laughter, not that her Grace was wrong in anything she said, just exceptionally flowery.
“…graduates with the highest honors from Paris’s most prestigious Conservatoire de Musique… renowned composers performing in grand palaces and concert halls of the world… favored musical performers to kings and queens in capitols across Europe… England’s celebrated stars of music…”
“She surely will run out of adjectives and continents soon.”
“I would not count on it!”
Sebastian lifted Georgiana’s face to look at him. “Are you ready, my precious wife?”
“As ready as I shall ever be.”
“You are beautiful and amazing, and I am eternally grateful for your talent and inspiration these past years. I love you, Georgiana.”
“I love you, Sebastian.”
“…and now it is my great pleasure to share this esteemed partnership and awe-inspiring musical collaboration in a concert promised to touch your heart, renew your soul, and delight your spirit. Please join me and welcome my friends. The Earl and Countess of Essenton!”
“I believe that is our cue. Shall we, Countess?”
Sebastian bent his elbow, offering the arm to Georgiana, who slid her hand inside to then rest on his forearm.
“Yes, my lord husband, I believe we should.”
And as another required tradition before a performance, they spared the time for a kiss, only then able to open the door and walk onto the stage, thrilled to do what they adored: sitting together and playing music.