The Downstairs Maid (42 page)

She walked up the stairs and took off her pretty dress, hanging it up before standing in front of the chest and her dressing mirror. She slipped off her petticoat and pulled on a nightgown, then started to brush her hair. Dabbing a little rose perfume behind her ears, she got into bed and sat up against the pillows waiting.

Time passed and Christopher did not come. Emily started to feel sleepy but was determined to keep awake. At last she heard the sound of Christopher’s halting steps on the stairs and took a deep breath. She looked towards the door with a smile, which was wiped away as she saw the way he lurched across to the bed. He must have been drinking all this time.

Christopher turned the oil lamp down low, and then pulled his shirt up over his head. It was a way he’d developed of getting out of it without asking for help, though he still couldn’t do the buttons up himself. When he turned back the covers and got in beside Emily, she braced herself. Christopher had clearly needed the wine to give him courage, and she was feeling in need of some herself, but when he turned to her, reaching out for her, she moved closer, pushing herself against him as he started to kiss her.

‘You’re so lovely, Emily,’ he said, his voice a little slurred. His right hand moved to caress first one breast and then the other. He kissed the little hollow at her throat and then down to her navel. Lifting her nightgown, his hand moved between her legs. He stroked and touched her for a few minutes, his breathing heavy. ‘I love you so much …’

Emily responded when he kissed her. She lay still and let Christopher stroke her as he would, feeling the moisture between her thighs. She wasn’t quite sure what ought to happen next, though being a farm girl she had a good idea of how mating in animals took place and her intelligence told her what to expect. Yet although she felt pleasure from her husband’s kisses and the touch of his hand, after a while he gave a little moan and moved away.

‘It isn’t going to happen,’ he said. ‘I thought … hoped it might because I want it to so much. I’m sorry, Emily. I can’t make love to you.’

‘You have made me feel nice …’

‘You know what I mean. I can’t do it … I can’t have sex. I can’t make babies with you.’

‘Perhaps it’s just too soon.’

‘I was told it might be like this … that I might never be able to make love. I’m sorry, Em. I shouldn’t have married you.’

‘It’s all right,’ she said softly. ‘Perhaps you had too much wine.’

Christopher didn’t answer. She thought he might have fallen asleep. Pity and sadness for his disappointment swelled through her, but she wouldn’t let it overwhelm her. She wouldn’t give way to self-pity. Even if they never became lovers and never had children, she was determined to make something of this marriage. She would give her husband all the love she had inside her and pray it was enough …

Amy hurried through the gloom of a wet afternoon. The London streets were greasy and dirty beneath her feet and the noise of the traffic seemed worse than usual, a tram clanging its bell in the next street. She’d been given time off that afternoon and she wanted to purchase some new underwear, because some of her things had been ruined by the service wash. They charged the earth for their special service and returned expensive silk petticoats looking like pieces of rag. Emily had always kept them perfectly, and Amy had thrown most of what she considered to be ruined away.

Amy supposed she was spoiled. She’d always been used to luxury and these past few months in London working as a volunteer for the fire service had been a revelation. Janet had left her in the lurch three weeks after they arrived, saying she didn’t like being in London. Amy had had to engage another maid and she expected twice what Emily had earned, and wasn’t worth half. If only Emily hadn’t been so ridiculous and gone off to marry that soldier!

Of course Amy could return home and marry Arthur. He’d written to her, telling her that he had cleared his name of all blame in the scandal over the mine. It was something to do with government leases and a misunderstanding. Amy wasn’t bothered. Arthur had suggested coming up to London to see her and she suspected that he wanted to ask her to marry him once more.

She hadn’t replied to his letter yet, because she didn’t know if she still wanted to be his wife. He’d made her angry when he’d walked away. For a while she’d been distressed, crying into her pillows at night, but then she’d put him out of her mind and made herself a new life here in London. Her job was interesting and well within her capabilities, but she’d begun to find it a little boring. In time she would want to marry but as yet she hadn’t found a man who made her pulse race.

Lost in her thoughts, Amy didn’t see the man in a dark overcoat emerge from a doorway just ahead of her and they collided. She dropped one of her parcels and the man picked it up, giving it back to her with a smile as their eyes met.

‘How odd,’ Belvane said in that soft, seductive voice of his. ‘I was thinking of calling on you this evening. Your sister gave me your address when I enquired for you at the manor some days ago.’

‘Belvane … I thought you were in Russia or Paris? Didn’t you tell me that’s where you were going last year?’ Amy felt the shock run through her, her breathing quickening. After they’d parted the previous year, she’d thought about him a few times, but hadn’t expected they would meet again.

‘I was in both places for a time – but I decided my services would be of more use here. I’ve joined the RFC. Your brother is one of our ace pilots. He was rather odd about something when we spoke. Did you tell him I was married – what I said to you?’

‘Yes. Nicolas threatened to thrash you for what you said – but I doubt if he could. Please do not allow him to quarrel with you. It was foolish of me to tell him.’

‘Did I insult you, Amy? I assure you my intention was never to harm you. I simply find you fascinating.’

‘I did feel angry at first, but then I stopped.’

‘Ah …’ He smiled. ‘It is very wet out here for conversation. Shall we have tea somewhere – or would you allow me to take you to dinner this evening?’

‘Dinner would be nice. I have something to do this afternoon. Will you call for me at seven?’

‘I should be delighted, my dear.’ He took her gloved hand and held it, air kissing the back. ‘I will delay you no longer – and look forward to what I am sure will be a charming evening.’

‘Take me somewhere expensive,’ Amy said, arching her fine brows. ‘I shall dress for it. Until this evening …’

She walked on, knowing that he had turned to watch her. She was smiling, feeling that she’d held her own, and yet her heart was racing. Amy hadn’t expected him to return. He’d spoken of fighting in Russia the last time she’d heard from him. His letter some weeks after her return from London had seemed to put an end to any relationship between them, but now he was back – and she found him as fascinating as ever.

Amy knew that she was playing with fire by accepting his invitation. He would naturally take it as a sign that she was willing to consider his proposal to become his mistress – and the terrible thing was that he would be right.

Arthur would probably ask her to marry him if she agreed to see him, and he would give her all the things she’d hoped to have – the money, social standing and solid marriage she was entitled to expect as Lord Barton’s daughter. Yet it felt like a prison sentence. Amy wanted excitement and danger … she wanted to taste love, the kind of love she would find in the arms of a man like Belvane.

He wouldn’t marry her because he was already married, but she could become his mistress. If she gave him what he wanted, she would make certain of the settlement he’d promised and costly jewels. What would happen when their affair ended she had no idea, though perhaps she could go abroad and live, as Great Aunt Samantha Barton had. If she were fortunate, that would be several years down the line. It would be better to live her life to the full as the mistress of the marquis than to marry a man she no longer cared for.

Amy had enjoyed the freedom living and working in London had given her but she would also enjoy the luxuries of the high life that being Belvane’s mistress could bring. In England she would be seen as fast and a fallen woman, but in America and the European resorts patronised by the rich and famous she would be one of many who had chosen to dispense with formality.

She approached the shop she’d been looking for. She would choose her lingerie carefully. If she wanted to be Belvane’s mistress she would require something enticing and very expensive. It was just as well that she still had some of the money her grandmother had given her for her trousseau …

Amy’s spine tingled as she thought about the evening ahead. She was almost certain Belvane would make love to her and she was ready to give herself to him – eager for the excitement he would bring to her life.

‘You are certain you are ready for this?’ Belvane’s hand caressed the back of her neck, causing a shiver of delight to run down her spine. ‘You are so very beautiful, Amy. I meant to put you out of my mind when I left England – but I couldn’t. You haunted me and I had to come back to England. It’s the reason I chose the RFC over the Imperial Army.’

‘I’m glad you did,’ Amy admitted. ‘I wished I hadn’t let you go. I wasted too much time …’

They were alone in his luxurious apartment. It was twice the size of her cousin Maude’s and furnished with every luxury imaginable, the floors marble with white scatter rugs, beautiful leather sofas, gleaming glass tables with bronzed legs and French cabinets from the Napoleonic period, far grander than anything Amy had ever seen. There were huge gilt mirrors with ebony and silver stringing, pier tables to match and the most exquisite porcelain and bronze figures of naked men and women. The large vases were early Sèvres and fragile, as was the Venetian glass from a much earlier century. The whole place had a feeling of decadence and almost obscene wealth.

It was the kind of place a man like Belvane would take his mistress when he wished to seduce her. She’d known the outcome as soon as he’d asked her if she wanted to go home or to his apartment. She’d chosen with her eyes wide open and she was ready, her body tingling and ready to be loved. She lifted her face for his kiss, her lips parting beneath his. He tasted slightly of good wine and cigars and she felt a spasm of desire curl through her stomach.

‘I want you so much,’ he murmured huskily. ‘I think I’m in love with you, Amy. I didn’t want to be but I couldn’t help myself. You know that I cannot divorce my wife? We are both Catholic and it would be impossible – but I want you. You’ll be my mistress and I’ll look after you. I’ll give you houses and money, jewels. You’ll be independent if anything happens to me. I’ve already spoken to my lawyer and he’ll draw up a settlement …’

‘Please don’t,’ she said. ‘We’ll talk of business another time. I want you to make love to me, Belvane. I’ve never felt this way about any other man. You make me want to melt into you, to be a part of you …’

‘My beautiful darling Amy.’ Belvane caught her up in his arms once more, his kiss so passionate and hungry that she was trembling when he allowed her to breathe. He turned her round and expertly unhooked her gown, slipping it down over one shoulder and then over the other, kissing her skin. As it slid to the ground, he cupped her breasts with his hands, caressing the nipples through the fine materials. Then, turning her, he slipped first one strap and then the other off her satin shoulders, letting it slither to the ground. ‘So lovely …’ He lowered his head, his tongue licking delicately at her nipples and then taking them one by one into his mouth and sucking.

Amy arched her neck, her head going back as she gasped and moaned with pleasure. Belvane knelt before her, easing her silk knickers down over her hips and kissing the patch of moist hair between her thighs.

‘I want you now,’ he muttered and stood up, sweeping her off her feet to carry her to the bed. He lay her down and sat beside her, his eyes burning into her. ‘You’re mine now and I’ll never let you go.’

Amy responded by clinging to his neck and kissing him on the mouth. She was trembling with need and urgency, her back arching to meet the touch of his skilful fingers as he stroked and touched, finding her moist warm centre.

‘Yes …’ Amy breathed and gave a scream of pleasure as his hand brought her to a little climax of pleasure, making her writhe beneath him. ‘Oh … that’s so lovely … thank you …’

‘I knew you would love it,’ Belvane whispered and stripped away his own clothes before joining her on the bed. It was too long for Amy and she was reaching for him instantly, her body arching and moving in exquisite agony as she waited for him to begin the delicious assault on her senses once more. ‘You’re hot for me, aren’t you? You’re ready for me, my darling?’

Amy was so lost in sensual pleasure that she hardly knew what she said, but when his hand parted her legs and he slipped up inside them she cried out with need. His first thrust was shocking and she felt pain, but his mouth was on hers and then he was moving slowly, sensuously, each movement making her arch and writhe beneath him as she reached for something she did not understand.

When the explosion of pleasure rocked them both, she screamed his name aloud, her nails raking his shoulders. The exquisite agony rippled through her, making her cry out again as the spasm shook her body. Then she was crying, clinging to him as he held her and stroked her hair.

‘Did I hurt you?’ he whispered. ‘It was your first time …’

‘A little – but I liked it,’ she said and her eyes gleamed as she looked up at him. ‘I liked it all – when can we do it again?’

‘My greedy little cat,’ Belvane said and laughed. ‘I think you’re insatiable – just as I expected. I knew from the first that we belonged together. There’s so much I can show you, darling, so much we can learn together. Believe me – that was only the beginning. There are ways to heighten the pleasure … prolong it in a way that will drive you mad with desire.’

‘Teach me,’ she demanded, her hand stroking his neck and down the smoothness of his back. ‘Show me how to please you more.’