27 comments/ 77843 views/ 111 favorites The Country Affair By: sushi_taco "Mary, your hair is fine! The carriage is at the gate, now please stop stalling," Elizabeth Beauclerk called upstairs for her sister. The house had been buzzing all morning, preparing for the family's long journey west from their home in London to the countryside of Worcestershire. With a quick twist of dark wavy hair she pinned the last curl in place and looked at herself in the mirror. She tied her straw bonnet over her hair and smoothed down the folds of her powder blue dress. The color matched her sister's eyes more than her own golden hazel. She wasn't as beautiful as fair Elizabeth, but it would do. The country beckoned, far away from the noisy streets of London; the constant bustle by daylight and the smell of burning mitre by night. Ahead of her lay sculpted rose gardens, the wave of wild grasses on the hillside and still marsh ponds mirroring the clear sky. Countryside citizens were something else entirely. Gossips abound in the countryside and for a proper lady, there was little to do but confine oneself to the social morays of a sitting room, away from the wild grasslands, the ponds, and the rose gardens. The thought filled Mary with distaste. There was an escape from those and it was in the feel of grass under her feet, the rock of a boat or the gallop of a horse. She was not a proper lady. Her heart belonged to the wild free spaces and the outdoors. More than once Mary had nearly scandalized her family by riding out alone in the country or taking a carriage through London without an escort. She seldom cared what others thought and had no intention to marry. She was the youngest daughter of the Duke of St. Albans. Her family was wealthy and respected but kept itself out of the epicenter of the ton. Her sister Elizabeth had made sure of that early on. Swept up in prewar romance, Lizzie married young to a charming officer who left soon after their wedding night and promptly froze to death on the steppes of Russia. The heartbroken Elizabeth vowed to never marry again, and solidified her position in an affair with a married Viscount that cost their father dearly financially to cover it up and save the reputation of both. Lizzie had been very selective about her liaisons since. After witnessing Lizzie's ill fated love life, Mary decided that staying a virgin Duchess was her best bet, and was content dying an old maid, her heart unbroken, her family unscandalized. Her brother would carry the title, anyway. "MARY!" Lizzie broke her reverie. "I'm coming, forgoodnessake! It's not like Wellesley House will burn down without us," Mary said, grabbing her shawl. She slung it through her elbows and ran her hands along the banister as she descended the staircase. "I want to get there before Claire Townshend gets her hands on Lord Raynham! We are late enough now to miss the entrances and the first dance. Any more fussing over your curls and we'd miss dinner entirely." Mary rolled her eyes, "I really don't think you have to worry about Claire Townshend, Lizzie," she said, the driver's gloved hand assisting her into the carriage, "Word has it she'll be married to some gentleman or another by season's end. Her brother's marriage has yet to produce an heir, and as you well know, Mrs. Townsend is increasingly tired of her antics." Claire; Lizzie's nemesis. She was the other young war widow of the ton and like Elizabeth engaged in unspoken affairs with its gentleman rakes. As with all people who are so alike in circumstance and temperament, they thoroughly despised each other and competed savagely over potential lovers. To hide their rivalry, they spoke only the highest of each other in letters and public graciousness. Oftentimes their feigned civility hidden behind silk fans would make Mary want to wretch. The door shut behind the Beauclerks. Mary looked up. At least the skies were clear today, and the weather warm: a far cry from the past week. Rain soaked mud clung to the wheels of the carriage and the gutters. With a hand up, Mary climbed into the carriage alongside Lizzie, across from their parents, Lord Aubrey and Lady Louisa. The first event of the season was always held a short ways outside London, but this time it was to be deep in the countryside of Worcestershire at the sprawling estate of the Wellesley's. Mary puzzled at why they were going so far out of their usual way for such a trifle. The last two years the Beauclerk family was not seen at the first country party of the season and after Lizzie's ill-fated tryst with Viscount Falmouth, Mary didn't think that her father would be so quick to thrust the family into the limelight. The carriage bounced along the road, swaying side to side on the sun-baked ridges of mud. The rain of the past week had mercifully stopped, revealing fresh spring earth. The smell was occasionally putrid close to the Thames this time of year and Mary was glad to be escaping the city briefly for the countryside. Gradually the boundaries of London and the musty smell of the Thames gave way to small clumps of cottages, neatly trimmed hedges and the scent of clover. It would take until the afternoon to arrive at the guest cottage in Croome Park, and the Beauclerk girls sat in almost eerie silence with their parents. Mary occupied herself with crochet, enjoying the quiet as best she could. Lizzie usually chattered through these rides, but this time sat looking out the window, her blonde curls bouncing through her coiffure. The sole sound of wheels squeaking lightly under the sedan was finally interrupted by Lord Aubrey clearing his throat to speak, "Mary, child," her father began haltingly. His words usually flowed freely, laced with the odd joke and a smile. Now his face was pinched. This wasn't like him, "I don't know if you are aware of the reason for our going to Worcestershire today." "I'm sorry Father, what was that?" "Our reason for visiting Wellesley," he said clearing a dried throat, "and staying at Croome Court as guests of the Earl of Coventry actually pertains to you." Mary wrinkled her nose, perplexed, "Why me?" "Our family has come to an important decision about your... future." Mary's blood froze. This conversation could only have one end, "Father, I—" "Daughter, please listen, do not protest just yet," he said gently, "Your mother and I have been in communication with the Earl. As you may not know, he was very tragically widowed the year before last and is in search of a new wife." "Father, you know I have no intention to marry. I am perfectly content—" Her mother chimed in, "I know what you believe suits you but you are very young to the ways of the world. Please trust our judgment, daughter," Lady Louisa paused, choosing her next words carefully, "Your sister Lizzie..." Mary looked over to her sister, "How is my fate in any way intertwined with that of Lizzie? And she is the eldest daughter and unmarried! Shouldn't she be called upon before I? You know very well that my intent was never to wed." Lord Aubrey continued, "Mary, we've had enough issues caused by handsome unattached daughters to deal with the last two years—" "So I must be punished, then? You would betroth me against my wishes?" Mary was livid. She felt as though her whole family was conspiring against her. And to a widower earl who was probably wigged and ancient with children older than she. She felt as though she were being punished with marriage because of her sister's indiscretions. "Mary trust me," Lizzie said quietly, "Their decision had nothing to do with me." "You knew?" Lizzie sighed, "Only recently, Mary, I promise. And I was sworn not to say a word." "This is wholly and completely unfair!" "Daughter, please do not be cross with us," her mother said, growing frustrated. "I have every right to be cross. Has my entire family not just conspired against me?" Mary turned back to their father who was pinching his index finger and thumb against the bridge of his nose, exasperated. "Child, you are young in the ways of this world and there are some very hard truths you must learn to survive in it. The Duchy of St. Albans is a very old line and a wealthy one, but an isolated line none the less. The Prince Regent, God save him, is wanton with his connections and grants Lordships to the brothers of his mistresses regardless of the family that he is replacing. Now the Earl of Coventry is well connected at court. Your brother has no chance at advancing or even protecting our line. He does not have a mind for courtly politics, and I am too old. I loathe the thought of putting the future of the Duchy of St. Albans on your shoulders but that is the reality, daughter." "But why would the Earl not take the eldest of us?" Mary said testily. Lizzie interrupted, "Because he specifically asked for you." "Why? No one heard about the—" Mary stopped herself. Not even privately would the family speak of the affair with the Viscount of Falmouth. Lord Aubrey had spent a small fortune in bribes quashing servant rumors alone. Mary dropped her eyes, "Sister, I did not mean to offend you." "No, Mary it's quite all right. I take no offense. I very much enjoy la vie libérée," she grinned. Lady Louisa rolled her eyes as Lord Aubrey failed to conceal a smile. "But it's not for you," Lizzie continued trying to cajole her little sister, "And while your planned chastity is most admirable, sister, it's not worth the cost of a mistake. Please take my experience as your warning." Mary sighed, staring at her lap. There was no choice. Her family looked to her to save them from potentially being stripped of title. Nothing could stop the engagement. But of all the women in the ton, there had to be reason why she was selected, "Why did he choose me?" "Lord Coventry saw you at the end of last season and told your father he thought it inappropriate to approach our family on the heels of the upcoming hunt and still within a season of the passing of his wife," Lady Louisa answered. Mary simply looked out the window, biting back tears. Old and overly formal. At least he could have made his presence known to her last season so she would have had time to prepare. Lord Aubrey spoke, "I wouldn't do anything as brash as force you to meet him tonight at Wellesley, but you will be formally introduced in two days at his estate and become the new Countess of Coventry at St. Andrews in a fortnight." So it was final. There was no sense in protesting; it was already set. It made sense, it was already decided, and it raged against Mary's heart. She bit her lip and bit back her tears to stare silently out the window. Worcestershire and her fate rose in the distance as the horses' heavy shoes clomped against the road. * * * * * Mary only picked at her supper. He was here in this room somewhere. Her heart beat through her chest and her stomach turned. In less than two weeks she would be alone with this unknown man, her soul and body in his hands. She tried to think of other things, but her eyes couldn't stop staring over her crystal water goblet, pausing on each withered widower, wondering if this or that one was the man who would come to possess her. Two weeks. In a fortnight she would be married fulfilling her wifely duties to family and to her... husband. She nearly choked. Could it be the bespectacled man with the gray hair and aquiline beak? The decrepit aging fop with the long fingernails leaning against his cane and dressed as though he was from another time? She shuddered and felt her stomach turn once more. Across from her were Lizzie and Claire. They had practically fallen over themselves with mutual feigned courtesy as everyone entered the hall. Claire said something that Mary couldn't make out followed by a tittering laugh as Lizzie's fan flew immediately to her face to hide her revulsion. Mary glanced away. Two weeks. There wasn't a fan in the world that could hide her anxiety. She wanted to scream or to run away. Her free hand twisted in her lap, the peach silken-gloved fingers wringing themselves silently. "Ms. Beauclerk, we are quite delighted to have you and your lovely sister for this occasion," the gentleman next to her crooned. Mary looked up. Lord Raynham, Lizzie's intended conquest. She threw on her best smile, "Why thank you Mr. Raynham. We are likewise delighted to be so surrounded by our friends here in the country." "Beautiful gardens here. And the weather cleared just in time last night so all of us may enjoy it. You know, there is a lake not too far distant at Croome Court," he continued. Mary squirmed inside, first at the mention of her new prison, second at his terrible conversation. Why was Lizzie after him? Lord, help her sister if he was as dull in the bedroom as he was in polite conversation, no matter how tall and handsome he was. "A garden you say?" Mary figured that any dull conversation was better than the terror of wondering which gentleman in this room was her intended. Let him drone on. It was good enough distraction from thinking of ancient hands roaming... She paled, let the thought escape and smiled once more at Raynham's halting rambling. "My dear Lord Raynham," Claire interrupted in her syrupy high-pitched voice. Her silken silver fan came down from her belladonna darkened eyes and bleach-lightened blonde tendrils, "Surely we can provide you with better distractions than cavorting around a silly garden." Mary barely managed to hide an eye roll as she glanced over at her sister. Lizzie's eyes turned to daggers as she joined in "Oh sweet Claire! Perhaps the distractions you dream of are not to our dear Lord's liking," She turned to Raynham with a smile, "I shall be happy to walk with you in the garden tomorrow Mr. Raynham, if you would have me." The guileless poor Raynham was oblivious to their competition and blushed at the attention. Mary shook her head. The game was on, and her fleeting distraction past. She tuned out the rest of their conversation. Something about a new dance the younger members of the ton would be trying later, a new and scandalous Continental affair known simply as the waltz. Glancing left she was met by crystal blue eyes. A young man stared at her from the distant end of the table then quickly averted his eyes back his conversation with another gentleman. Mary did the same, pretending to be engrossed in Claire and Lizzie's merry war over their spoils, Mr. Raynham. Minutes later, her eyes pulled back in his direction. A slight bump on his nose from where it looked like it had been broken years before, but his face was otherwise perfect in every way. Mary tried to catch the sound of his voice in the distance, nearly hearing it over the din of the crowd. She startled as her admiring reverie was returned. There were his eyes again! But this time he did not look away from her. His stare bored into her. The voices of her sister and Claire battling over Raynham disappeared into an echo and all that existed for her was the vision of this man. Her eyes remained locked with his. A slight smile curled his thin soft lips upward and he opened them to speak. Mary... "Mary!" Claire jolted her back. "Tell us. Do you think Mr. Raynham should like a ride through the country?" "It depends on who does the riding, Claire," Mary said in quiet riposte. Claire drew in a surprised breath; her eyes wide open at Mary's bold insinuation. Her fan flew to her face to hide her gasp. Lizzie suppressed a laugh behind hers. Mary got up to leave the table, "If you will excuse me..." Dinner ended and the guests filed into the ballroom. A cello's solo echoed through the hall, followed quickly by a violin and a harp as the guests dispersed through the manor, chattering gaily over the musical trio. Soft slippers landed in time on the marble floor. No one had asked her to dance. Word traveled fast. Everyone here knew she was betrothed. They wouldn't be foolish enough to dance with the future wife of the Earl of Coventry, the man who had the ear of the Prince Regent. Mary's eyes flew to the elderly gentlemen in the room leaning or sitting against walls. Not even Lord Coventry revealed himself to her. Her heart sank and mixed emotions flew about in her head. She was to be Coventry's wife, yet he would not dance with her! Was he too frail to do that? Was she marrying a corpse? Or worse yet, was she to marry a man whose attentions would be more focused on his stable boy than on her? She felt as though she should have felt a relief at the idea of being so ignored, but her heart told her that if she were to be married, and give that great sacrifice on her wedding night, it should be to someone who at least wanted her. Or did she? She imagined herself an early widow, wearing black weeds for years after her beauty had run its course and then sitting alone in her inherited manor for the rest of her days, or being forced out by his previous children into an isolated cottage to die alone and forgotten. It was all so uncertain! Tears welled up in her eyes. She took one look at the room clouding up before her and made her way quickly to the door, then ran. Her shawl trailed behind her swishing skirts as she bolted down the hallway and through the back. The sky was washed out by a full moon and the maze of the garden lay below her lit in silver, the front hedges awash in the gold of the interior hallway. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She removed her left glove to brush them away without staining the peach silk and crumpled it in her hand. Mary caught her breath for a moment, and then hurried once more. It wasn't long before the music faded into the distance and all that could be heard were the soft tap of her slippers across the Versailles tiles. She dropped to a bench, her head in her hands and looked down to find her removed glove gone from her grip, lost somewhere in the garden. She cursed herself for letting go of it and laid her head in her hands once more. Only the chirp of an early season cricket kept her company. She ran the toe of her slipper against an uprooted tile in front of her, a patch of dandelion poking out of the crack. The chill of the evening did not temper her sadness. She was numb and hardly felt it, in fact. Honor. Duty. Family. Her will and her very life collapsed before her. She was a woman, she knew, but to submit to this indignity was beyond her training, her expectations, and desires. Her desire be damned, as far as anyone was concerned! And now she would assume the mantle of Lady Coventry, married to a man she had never met. This county was to be her prison, forever shut away at Croome Court. She sobbed quietly to herself, wishing she could sprout wings and fly away from here. She didn't hear footsteps padding closer along the quiet walkway. "How is it so lovely a creature," the voice said, startling her, "can be so very sad?" Mary looked up at its source. It was the man with the blue eyes from dinner. A shiver went through the center of her along with a surrendering ease at his tender voice. She stiffened. He was most likely a rake, and had followed her out here, hoping to turn her misery into an easy conquest. She kept up her guard, "I appreciate your kindness but I wish to be left alone right now." She wiped away tears only to see him remove a silk handkerchief from his interior breast pocket and hold it close to her face. Mary took the kerchief, wiping her eyes, and then examining it closer. It bore an embroidered royal blue letter on the corner, "D. What does 'D' stand for?" "Deerhurst. William Deerhurst. But you may call me Will." "I shall call you Mr. Deerhurst, thank you," Mary said. She was a maid but not a fool. Letting this man, albeit this very attractive man, into her association would spell certain disaster for her. Attractive. She tried to strike the idea of him from her head, but every glance back into those clear blue eyes undermined her resolve. The Country Affair "All right then, you shall call me Mr. Deerhurst. But I do hate that name, its how my father was addressed by my mother until the day he went to meet his maker." "I'm terribly sorry," she said. "For what?" "For bringing to you such association," she looked up at him. His eyes were kind and unassuming, his near black hair longer on top and curly with short sideburns. His left hand was at his back and he stood tall against the moonlight. His shoulders were broad but not grotesquely so, and his collar lay slightly raised about his neck with a white silk cravat glowing in the iridescent light. "Please don't apologize. It hardly the worst I've endured in this life," Will shifted his stance almost uncomfortably, "Would you mind if I sat next to you?" She felt her heart leap at the thought. His presence made her feel aware of her body and how cold she was. She would love him to sit next to her and wrap his coat around her shoulders, the heat from him still trapped inside and warming her freezing arms. Mary flushed the thought from her mind. Too much was at stake here, and anything she desired should be the very last thing on her mind in this moment. She had to put her foot down, "I'm terribly sorry, but actually I would. It would be unseemly, due to my recent... as yet unannounced betrothal." "Ah..." he said. "I again apologize—" "Again please do not." "But I have only just met you and do not trust you." Will nodded, "I understand. I shan't trouble you any more this evening." Mary looked up quizzically, "You're leaving, then? So you didn't come here with any... ill purpose?" Will balked and chortled to himself, "Heaven's no! I would never besmirch such a chaste beauty as you. If it is your wish I shall merely admire you from afar. However when I found you, you very much look like you need a shoulder upon which to cry, and so my offer still stands," but what he would give to hold her close, wrapping an arm around her, running his fingers across her cheek and through the chestnut tendrils of her hair. "Admire?" "You cannot pretend to think you are not beautiful. But my honest desire is to respect your wishes and first offer you my eternal fidelity." Mary was staunch, "Mr. Deerhurst, I shall not forget your kindness. But I must also ask you to please not insist on anything between us now as it is highly improper." "I am ever your servant," he said, smiling softly at her. Restrained as his desire was, Will inwardly burned for this girl from the moment he'd laid eyes on her. But there would be a right time again, so here he would leave her be. He went to leave, and then remembered what he had found on the pathway. His left hand appeared from behind his back, lightly holding a hand-smoothed peach glove, "I believe that you dropped this." "Thank you," Mary clasped the glove to her breast before placing her naked hand inside and rolling it up her goose-fleshed cold arms. She shivered. "You're quite welcome. You are chilled?" "Freezing actually. I forgot that it is warmer in London than in the countryside." "I would offer to walk you back to the house as your escort, but I loathe the idea of shaming you further. However it is quite dark, so may I at least walk you to the end of the maze's hedgerows? I will wait for you to go in to the hall before I appear." "I would certainly appreciate—" she stood up, tripping on the uprooted tile and staggered forward against his chest. A hand brought up around her waist steadied her. Mary's heart raced as she looked up at him. He looked down at her gently, eyes locked to hers. She should have pulled away, but stayed pressed against him as his hand tentatively came up to brush aside a fallen tendril, then cup her cheek. His touch sent lightning through her and his warmth pulled her magnetically closer to his body. Will cautiously leaned down and lightly pressed his lips to hers. She felt soft and yielding as she returned his kiss. He held her closer, deepening their embrace. Her soft lavender scent filled his nostrils as he breathed. His hand trailed down her neck and finally to her shoulder, forcing himself to go no further. Mary's mind warred against her, screaming that this would lead her to ruin but her heart sang and her body melted against his perfect lips. A heat far removed from the warmth of him crept up from her belly and she instinctively pressed into him as his hand came to rest on her shoulder blade. His lips came away and they remained together there for a moment before Mary pulled away, her gloved hand against her flushed breasts and her lips still sparking with the energy of their kiss, "I... I'm sorry, I don't know what to say..." "No, it is I who should apologize. I overstepped my bounds. I—" They came back together in an instant, drawn by unseen forces. The passion of this kiss rolled through both of them. Mary ran a hand through his dark hair as his arms wrapped around her to her waist, pressing her hard against him. The heat radiating out from her stomach matched the ache he now felt building against her. Though fiery their embrace was over in moments and Mary backed down once more, shaking. "I can't! Please, Will." The corners of his mouth turned up at the sound of his name, but one look at the fear in her eyes stopped him short. He needed to bring her back to him; relieve her fear, "I don't what has come over me, and I'm sorry to confuse you. I truly am. But in my heart I know that this is right and my affections real... and that you feel it too. You've felt it since our eyes met across the table tonight," he brushed the same loose curl back from her brow. Mary's eyes welled up once more as she stepped backward the width of the path away from his embrace, wanting desperately to return to his arms and knowing that she could not. Of all of Fate's cruel tricks on her today to be engaged against her will and to meet... Will all in the same day. He started toward her, "Dear God, I'm sorry if I've harmed you." "No, just, please... I need to leave this place." Mary raced down the moonlit path her skirts raised above her knee to quicken her gait as she raced toward the sound of the house. She ran for her life. Another moment with Will and she would have been finished. The handkerchief was still clutched tight in her hand. Sensations flooded through her that she couldn't begin to identify. Her steps matched the curious drumming of the music. One, two three; one, two three... "Please, please wait," Will called out in vain, "Mary!!!" * * * * * "No, I honestly don't know what to make of her. One moment she is frigid and pure as the snow, the next moment..." George William "Will" Deerhurst, Earl of Coventry, sat at the window of the master chamber in Croome Court trying to choke down an exceptionally rubbery version of eggs en cocotte. Any other morning he would have had it sent back but his mind was fixed on one thing only. The elusive Lady Mary Beauclerk, his bride to be. He watched his un-introduced fiancée run from the dance hall at Wellesley just as he was clearing the room to walk over to her, and then followed her when she bolted for the garden. He had never seen a woman run as fast; she would put friends of his to shame. Then finding her, her classical frame bathed in cold moonlight, crumpled up on the bench, sobbing. His shy goddess. All he wanted was to hold her in his arms and Fortune intervened. She transformed into Venus herself. He could still smell the lavender of her hair, hear the swish of her silk dress, and taste the cream and strawberries of her kiss on his lips. Feel her fingers laced through his hair. At these thoughts a shiver crept up his spine, far more powerful than the cold last night. Confound his manners; he should have kept her glove. It was fair return for the handkerchief. "My lord, I'm not sure how to advise you," his chamberlain said as he stoked the fire once more, "Might I again suggest the possibility that she didn't know who you were?" "Rubbish, James," Will grabbed for the Times, "She recognized me at dinner because I caught her pretending not to stare at me." "And how did you catch her staring, my lord?" James said his, voice dead pan. Will shook his head at James and smiled, "How could I not keep my eyes off of her? In any event, I introduced myself to her. She had the nerve to call me Mr. Deerhurst. Repeatedly! There is no doubt in my mind she knows exactly who I am. She was just being coy..." Will remained confused by this girl. Her father, the Lord of St. Albans, had told him that Mary would know of the engagement before arriving in Worcestershire. Mary had even used their current unwedded status as reason enough to balk his advances last night. Almost. His senses were tormented by that first touch of her as he held her and steadied her unsure footing, and her kiss had nearly undone him. He hadn't meant to kiss her yet. He was not about to disrespect the trust of her or her family but found himself helpless in her presence. A dozen women at court could not sway him, but this girl with the golden eyes and chestnut hair had dissolved any control he thought he'd ever had over himself. He closed his eyes and remembered the first time he had laid eyes on her last August. It was a year and few months after Emma's death from lung fever, and the loss of his wife and then father the year previous had numbed him to any feeling. His life had become only a series of appearances at this or that social occasion and he dreaded them all. He was in London at the last event of the season at Almack's, not even there for social graces, but to see the Duke of Buckingham on important business. Suddenly, the most beautiful girl he had ever seen glided across the floor during a quadrille, her pale gold dress lighting up the room. He was still dressed in black, nearing the end of his mourning period and didn't dare approach her then. Through the winter his thoughts had dwelled on her, despite keeping busy at court. Every spare moment alone drove him back to memories of that rich chestnut hair bouncing in tendrils around her high cheekbones and radiant smile as she sashayed in a circle around the floor. His near obsession hadn't been dulled by time and now that he had held her, had tasted her lips and also her apprehension he was driven to see her again; to make things right and take away any of her lingering fear. James only shook his head, staring at the large cottony clouds on the horizon, "Are you sure about going out riding, sir? Last night you came back chilled to the bone from chasing her out into the Wellesley garden. One would think the poor girl is in bed at the guesthouse wrapped in blankets today, eating nothing but Pease soup." "Obviously, my good fellow," Will folded up the paper and lay it on the table, standing to dress for the day, "you never spoke about her with her father. Call it more than a hunch that I shall find the Lady Mary lost somewhere in the countryside." "But why, and pardon me my lord, why pursue her at all? She will be formally engaged to you by tomorrow, her family already approves, more than approves in truth..." "Because believe me, I know what it is like to suffer from an arranged marriage. I had never laid eyes on Emma until three days before we married, and while our marriage was pleasant, the best emotion I could have for her was fondness. And I have truly fallen for this woman; this very independent free spirited woman who will view me as an indifferent shackle if I don't at least give myself the opportunity to court her." Will stared out the windows to the grasslands and his guest cottage down the road. The small lake reflected the sky beyond it. He knew exactly who had slept in that cottage last night. * * * * * Mary felt behind her pillow to find the handkerchief still underneath it. She opened an eye to make sure Lizzie was not about and slowly pulled it out to look at it, finely embroidered with brilliant blue. D. For 'disaster' or 'danger' or 'Mary you are a damn fool'. His clear blue eyes. His smile. His kiss... He had called out her name as she ran away. How did he know her name? Her thoughts went back through the night. She hadn't introduced herself to him. She had run away before he could hope to extract a name from her. But not before she had fallen into his arms, quite literally. His strong arms... She had never seen or heard of a Will Deerhurst before. He wasn't a rake because she would have known of him. Gossip traded between Lizzie and Claire had alerted Mary to every rake in the ton before she had even reached her début three years ago. She would have remembered him if she had seen him before. Dash it all. She needed to put Mr. William Deerhurst as far out of her mind as possible. She needed the strength to make it through the next few days, to make it through the rest of her life. And she felt that he had created a fundamental weakness in her. How else could she explain her behavior, or those sensations that flooded through her when he held her, or even when she thought about him. Mary grew frustrated with her own mind. She had to take a stand, even a symbolic one, to regain her sanity. The Beauclerks were staying at the Croome Park guest cottage, far removed from the mansion up the road. Mary came down to breakfast where her family had already started without her. "You slept fitfully," Lizzie said, "Are you feeling all right?" Mary recoiled, "Yes, I'm fine. There was just... a draft last night." "Are you sure you don't want to stay in today, then? We don't want you catching cold," Louisa said between sips of tea, "It wouldn't be fitting to meet your fiancé tomorrow with a case of the sniffles." "Stay in? Were we planning on going somewhere?" Aubrey looked up over his morning paper, "I was going to take all of us to visit Overbury manor and my schoolmate, Martin and his wife. They have three daughters about your girls' age, one married. Might as well, since we're in Worcestershire." This was her chance to finally be alone in the country and make peace with her destiny and the events of last night, "I am feeling a bit chilled. May I stay here?" "Of course," Louisa said, "Now stay in bed and drink plenty of tea and we shall see you late tonight." * * * * * Mary had stayed in bed while her family prepared for their outing, then hurriedly got up and dressed on her own. She hated lying to her parents, but told herself this was all for the greater good. She made sure that the coals in the fire were out before leaving for the lake on foot. Closing the door behind her, she looked around at her surroundings. If the grounds of Croome Park were to be her jail as the wife of Coventry, she may as well learn the better parts of it. The sky was sapphire blue with large white clouds overhead. Sparrows and bugs chirped in the grasses along the road. It wasn't a far walk, merely half an hour to the edge of the wooden dock. The lake covered over an acre, framed by trees on all sides. A lone rowboat sat at the edge. Mary steadied herself in, loosened the rope and slowly paddled out to the center. She removed the handkerchief from her pocket and looked at it. She held it against her cheek one last time and then deeply inhaled the spicy scent trapped on it from sitting in his breast pocket. She closed her eyes and was transported back to last night. His beautiful eyes, and his warm embrace flooded back into her conscious. She had felt something new last night; perhaps love. But she had never been in love and wouldn't know it if she had felt it at all. To maintain her sanity in the coming days she would now have to let him go and never think on him again. She raised the kerchief above her head. Goodbye, Mr. Deerhurst, she thought to herself and threw the cloth, watching it twist through the air before gently landing on the surface of the lake. It bobbed on the water for a moment, and then slowly disappeared below the swells. Mary watched for what seemed like an eternity as it vanished from sight. She had the sudden urge to grab it out of the water but stilled herself. She needed to stay strong. Her heart ached, and she allowed herself one last moment to think about him. "Goodbye, Will," she said, her eyes tearing once more before she brushed them away, straightened up with a determined smile and reached for the oars... The oars! She looked over the side as one of the paddles went floating by, well out of reach. Heart beating out of her chest she reached to the other side, only to see the second oar further away than the first. "Oh, bloody hell!" she swore out loud. Mary dipped a hand into the water of the lake and quickly withdrew it with a gasp. It was ice cold. She was stranded, and there wasn't a soul around. She cursed herself for her dramatic send off of Mr. Deerhurst's handkerchief and looked up as the sun-spackled lake suddenly darkened. The white clouds had now turned gray and menacing. Rain would shortly follow; the birds had gone silent, taking refuge. She looked around at her suddenly horrid situation debating whether she should scream for help. She could scream herself blue; no one would hear. Everyone was away for the afternoon, or indoors as any sane person would be this time of year. Something stirred and she heard what she thought was distant thunder. It grew rhythmic. Horse's hooves. Oh thank you God, this was her only chance. "Pardon me!" she shouted at the sound of the approaching hooves, "I seem to have gotten myself into a bit of a situation. I'm sorry to trouble you but would you be able to he—" She stopped cold. It couldn't be. Of all the people out riding by all the lakes in all of jolly old England to come along! Mr. Deerhurst on a beautiful sable colored stallion raised a hand over his eyes to get a good look at her predicament. She felt relief and anxiety all at once. "Are you all right?" He rode to the dock and dismounted, "You said you needed help?" "Mr. Deerhurst! I... I said no such thing," Mary shouted across the lake. "Your oars floating on the lake would suggest otherwise," Will shouted back. "No, they are just... out of reach. I can get them, honestly." "Please let me throw you the rope. It is going to rain soon." "I'm fine, thank you," she said stretching out her arms, "I can reach just a little furth—" She lost her balance and shrieked as first her arm then her head, then the rest of her tumbled out of the boat and into the frigid water with a loud splash. "MARY!" Will threw off his riding coat and dove into the water, boots and all, expertly making a beeline through the water to the empty boat. He ignored the freezing chill running up his spine and he swam on. Mary's head came up, gasping for air, limbs flailing in the water, "Will!!" She could only manage the one word. The freezing water had sucked the air out of her lungs. Her head went under again and she smacked useless hands down on the water, trying to claw her way back up. A muscular arm hooked her from behind, dragging her to the surface. Air filled her lungs suddenly and forcefully then she felt only blackness as the cold overwhelmed her senses. Will braced her with his left, holding her limp form close to his chest, and swam backward to the shore with his right hand. He lifted her to the deck and jumped out to examine her. "Mary! Mary, open your eyes. Please..." he tapped her cheek lightly until she coughed and looked up at him. "Will?" she said before slumping over again. Her lips were purple and her clothing dripped, sopping wet. There was no time for propriety. He didn't want to lose her, "I'm sorry about this Mary, but we don't have a choice at the moment," he stripped off her cold waterlogged dress over her head. Drawing a pocketknife from the pack at the side of his horse he deftly cut through the strings of her stay, releasing the stiff wet garment from her form until she lay trembling on the dock in her chemise. He tried in vain to ignore the silhouette of hardened pink nipples and the creamy silk of her flesh ghosting through the wet material. The Country Affair With teeth chattering, he wrapped her snugly in his dry riding coat and lifted her onto his horse. Several fat drops of rain stained the deck as he lifted himself up into the saddle. Holding Mary tightly in front of him as he did in the water, Will kicked his horse into a full gallop back to the cottage guesthouse. "Mary stay with me. Please stay with me... Please," he repeated over and over into her ear as they rode through the storm. * * * * * Mary awoke to the sound of a crackling fire and rain smacking the paned windows of her room. A dull rumble of thunder outside shook the cottage. She was in her nightgown. Had she been dreaming? She felt behind her pillow for the handkerchief, and only came back with the feel of her loosened wavy hair. This was no dream. Her room was filled with diffuse light as she cracked her eyes open. She grew pale. Mr. Deerhurst. The lake. She opened her eyes fully. Her dress and chemise hung above the fireplace, flames lighting up the diaphanous material from behind. Her stay hung next to it, minus its strings. Beside those hung dark trousers, and a shirt. Riding boots were propped up on the floor. A heavy riding coat and hat hung on the door. Oh what had she done, what had she done? Mary's stiff limbs wouldn't obey her desire to sit up. She groaned. A knock at the door startled her. She pulled the covers up over her chest, "Who is it?" she asked, knowing full well who it was. Will opened the door slowly. He was wearing a shirt several sizes too wide for him and her father's Banyan robe, cinched and overwrapped around the middle. He carried a tray with two teacups clattering against their saucers and a half lemon. "I must sincerely apologize to your father one day for this," he started. "Why are you wearing his robe?" "It was all I could find that fit me. I honestly didn't have a choice. Your family was not about, they brought no servants, you needed tending to, and I couldn't very well do so in the buff, if you'll pardon my saying so," he anxiously sat at the edge of her bed and placed the tray beside them on the table. Mary tried hopelessly to erase the thought of Will Deerhurst in the buff. He lifted the back of his hand to her forehead and then to each cheek to check her for fever. She suddenly became very aware of her body under the thin nightgown, "How could you have done this to me?" "Done what?" "Undressed me! ...Shamed me! You... you had no right to—" "Well, I would have been happy to ask you first," Will interrupted, "but you were unconscious from nearly drowning and sopping wet in your clothes. My choices were to risk your death by chill or simply remove them." Mary opened her mouth silently to protest but nothing came out. Will thought her indignation was cute and tried to suppress a grin, along with the memory of trying in vain to remain clinical and detached from the sight and feel of her exquisite body as he had carefully changed her into the nightgown already laying on her bed. He was more concerned than aroused when he had dressed her but now that he knew she was all right, his mind drifted back to her subtle and delicate features. The small beauty mark on her stomach. The gentle curve of her hips. The thatch of chestnut curls that matched her hair. The pert swell of her breasts. "Will?" "Yes?" Mary's voice broke his lustful reverie. He immediately felt guilty for his lascivious thoughts, but remembered that she would be his wife in less than a fortnight and those thoughts' state of impropriety was all a matter of time passing. He smiled at the sound of his name on her lips. Gone was the formal 'Mr. Deerhurst' that drew an impossible wall between them. "How long have I been asleep?" "Almost two hours. You were starting to worry me," he shook his head and leaned to the side, squeezing lemon into her tea, "All this for a missing oar when I could have easily thrown you the rope on the dock..." Mary still froze even under the blankets. This man confused her. How could he be so placid about all of this? He had seen her... naked! She had been exposed to him in ways that only her dressing maid had seen her. This fact should have bothered her more, but for reasons unknown to her, she trusted him, intuitively knowing that he had tried to care for her the best he could. But if anyone knew about what had transpired, her life in danger or not, her family would be ruined. Clouds of impending scandal obscured her thoughts. She felt the heat of antagonism rising within her, "I would have never tipped the boat in the first place if you had not come along and disturbed me!" Will cocked up an eyebrow at her, "Really? You're right. It would have been much better to slowly drift away and drown as the rowboat filled with rainwater," They glanced at the window as lightning lit up the clouds outside. Thunder shook the windows seconds later, "You'd still be out in this. What possessed you to go out on the lake by yourself at this time of year in the first place?" "I...," She stammered, caught in his piercing gaze. I had to forget about you forever Will, because the thought of you undoes my senses. The words sat firmly on her tongue; she couldn't let him know what effect he had on her or all would be lost, "I had to be alone." "Were you not alone here all ready?" "I go to the countryside if I truly want solitude. I didn't count on the rain, or sending my oars adrift." Will sighed and closed his eyes. "I nearly lost you today. If anything had happened to you..." She paused a moment and looked down, "Will?" "Yes?" "Thank you," she whispered. "For what?" "For saving my life," Mary looked up into his eyes. He drew a hand to her cheek, drawing closer to her, "How could I ever let anything bad happen to you? My life is yours. I just found you, and the thought of losing you—" he felt her head tilt up to accept his kiss. Their lips melted together and Mary felt heat return at once to her body. His arms encircled her, drawing her forward to lean into his chest. He cradled her there, holding her against him as his lips left hers and whispered into her ear, "I love you, Mary." Mary's vision clouded once more as tears returned to her eyes, "Will, I... I love you, but I'm so afraid," she whispered back. "Don't be. Please. We've already had enough fear for one day. For once let's both live for this moment; for clearly it's all we have," he waited for her, inches from her face, letting her come to him. She strained upward, the magnetic pull of him too hard to resist, and crushed her lips against his. She felt safe here, against everything that swirled outside this room: the engagement, her family, society, duty, fear and loneliness. All vanished in his presence. She had worked so hard to hide her inner joy when he appeared around the bend on horseback. Even then, despite everything she tried to make herself feel, she would not have wanted to see another soul besides Will come to her rescue at that very moment. "Fate brought you to the lake. How else can I explain it? You appeared just as I had tried to..." Will lingered inches away from her lips waiting for her to finish. "...To forget my need for you." Will brought his mouth down upon hers. Like hell she would forget her need for him. He would make sure of that right now. He felt his pulse pounding through him. Mary's hands flew into his hair and across his shoulders as she drew him in to her embrace. His tongue caught the edge of her lips and slipped through for a moment before darting out. She tasted like the rain. Slowly he inched down with her, reaching through her mane and fanning her long hair out behind her on the pillows. Her tongue flicked out grazing his teeth before mating with his. Mary arched her body up to him as he lay to the side of her, turning her toward him with one arm underneath and cupping her breast in his hand. She gasped as his thumb brushed the nipple through the fabric. Something low in her belly began to wind and tighten as Will touched her. His thumb ran in circles, making the areola pucker under the fabric. She moaned softly into his ear, the sound nearly sending his self-discipline over the edge. Will felt flames consume him and sparks run under his hands as he touched her. He felt his passion building within, hardening him against her thigh through the fabric of his robe and the blankets enveloping her below the waist. He felt his hips thrust involuntarily forward toward her, instinct directing his body to where it so desperately wished to be. She stopped for a moment and looked at him, then timidly brought one hand down through the sparse curls on his chest, the cotton shirt and across the silk of the robe before her thin fingers felt something hard and hot beneath it. Will lay nearly stock-still as she cautiously explored him, delighted at her innocent boldness. He sucked in air through his teeth as her fingertips grazed over his manhood, standing rigid under the fabric. Slowly he brought his hand over hers and cupped it against the length of him. Mary felt him pulsing through the fabric and cautiously wrapped her hand around the heat beneath the silk. He groaned and kissed down the hollow of her neck and over her chemise, his teeth gently nipping at her breast through the fabric. Will ran over the hard peak with his tongue, his mouth gently suckling at her. The chemise soaked through from his ministrations until the thin material revealed the pink flesh underneath, melting away like sugar around the tip of her breast. Mary's other hand kneaded through his hair and her back arched up, a soft whimper escaping her lips as her fingers tightened around him, stroking up through the silk. Will winced suddenly and pulled back from her searching hands, gasping for air and swore under his breath. Mary was immediately hit by a wave of guilt. Had she gone too far? Did he think her too wanton? "Will, what is wrong?" Will smiled, "Nothing is wrong; quite the opposite. It was very right," he watched the confused expression course her face, "If you continued, I would have lost control." Mary again raised an unknowing eyebrow at him. He smiled at her innocence. Her touch was exquisite and he wished it could have gone on like that forever, but he knew it could not. The vision of her inquisitively caressing his flesh drove him mad. His command over his senses was slipping. That wasn't the way he wanted her now, in any case. He needed to have all of her. Possess her. Claim his beautiful bride-to-be in this perfect moment. He rested beside her and took the plunge, "Mary, I want to give myself to you fully. Here and now." She understood what he meant, "Will, we cannot. The betrothal... I would go to my nuptial bed a—" He put two fingers to Mary's lips before she could say the words, "I promise I will protect you. I promise there will be no regrets, no shame. Let us be present here in this moment together and let me love you as a husband loves his wife." She thought a moment, caught in his searching, pleading gaze. She needed him, wanted him desperately in ways she wasn't even sure she completely understood yet. Through the long gray days of her arranged marriage that were sure to come she knew that she would always have this moment, this day kept secret in her heart for all time. Mary looked up at her lover then drew close once more to her body, inhaling his spicy scent. She kissed him once on the neck before whispering into his ear, "Yes. I love you, Will." Will drew back to look down at her. His clear blue eyes turned dark with passion, "I love you. And now I am going to show you exactly what those words mean." His expert mouth covered her lips once more before kissing across the side of her face, tasting the curve of her ear before nibbling on the lobe. His kisses traveled down her neck, with his hands moving before them to her nightgown. He undid each button with care. Will wanted to rip the entire thing down the middle and expose her to him fully but he had ruined enough of her undergarments for one day. Mary watched as he covered each inch of flesh he exposed with another kiss. She didn't know where to put her hands or what exactly to do. All she knew was that she needed to touch his skin. She ran her hands through his hair and over his shoulders, pushing down the sides of the robe and further opening the unbuttoned shirt. She marveled at the sinews of his smooth shoulders and the vein beating persistently on his neck. Suddenly, lightning shot through her and she gasped. Will's mouth traveled across her exposed pink flesh, enveloping one nipple completely, sucking it between his teeth and teasing it with his tongue. He came up on his knees to look down at her. Her peach skin had turned hot and rosy from his attention and her breasts lay exposed, all the buttons undone, "God you are so beautiful," he said under his breath. Mary blushed from her cheeks to her bosom as Will took each of her hands and kissed them at the wrist, undoing the buttons there. He stood up and removed the blankets. Mary welcomed the cool rush of air on her heated figure and realized that the edge of her nightgown was already pulled up halfway above her knees. Will's nostrils flared at the sight of her bare legs. He leaned over and kissed her, pushing his tongue deeper into her mouth to taste her and lifted her lower back, slowly rolling the hem of her nightgown up exposing her thighs, their glorious chestnut apex, and her soft stomach before lifting the last of it over her head and casting it to the floor. He smiled and shook his head, reality hitting him suddenly. The remainder of his life would be spent looking upon this sight. Her skin glowed in the light of the fire catching the curves of her flesh, as she lay reclined on the bed. Her hair fanned out behind her, rippling in russet waves. She looked so different now, Will thought, than when he had hurriedly pulled her out of her wet clothes. Her pale skin burned now, blood coursing through her, the curves of her body lithe and animated as she lay there looking up at him. Mary smiled mischievously, "You know, this really isn't fair." "Oh?" he said arching an eyebrow, "And why is that, my love?" "This is the second time you have seen me nude. Whereas I have yet to see more than your bare shoulders," a hand crept up to her breast, the nipple peaking out between her fingers, and the other to the thatch of curls in a half-hearted attempt to cover her nakedness before him. It only served to arouse him further. "Well then we shall fix that," he said, turning around. He untied the robe and let it fall to the floor, then opened the shirt and did the same. The fire danced along his hard shape and golden skin. Mary stared at the sinews of his back and his thighs, his tight, even buttocks and watched him slowly turn around to face her. She stared into his eyes before they slowly descended along his form. His chest was smooth with a light dusting of dark hair trailing downward and well muscled underneath, his arms hung at his side, the fingers on his right hand clenching slightly, as he barely contained the urge to close the distance between them. Instead, Will let her examine him. There was no doubt from the expression on her face he was the first man she had ever seen so, and the flame of desire burning in her eyes told him that she liked what she saw. Her gaze meandered down his stomach, the trail of course black hair picking up just under his navel. A mysterious heat flooded between her thighs. She followed the path lower, her eyes widening like saucers as she swallowed a lump in her throat, "Is it going to hurt?" "For a moment," Will said honestly. She responded with an accepting nod. Mary leaned on her side, her hips shifting and the sight of their swell before the indent of her waist made his manhood visibly twitch. She looked up into his eyes and said in a voice barely audible, "M... May I touch it?" Will smiled and let out a sigh, "I would love nothing more." He took one step closer to her and watched as her thin fingers slowly reached out toward him. Her soft touch met his flesh and he tilted his head back and shut his eyes, letting out a low groan. Mary fondled just the head at first. It didn't feel like she thought it would; it was soft and spongy, hot to the touch. Her fingers trailed down the silky length of the shaft, brushing up the hard underside and tracing the path of a vein until she reached the head once more. She fully enclosed its hardness in her hand, eliciting a sharp moan from Will. Her closed fingers moved down, and then back up again, tracing its imposing length. She watched the muscles of his stomach clench and dance as she stroked him. A drop of moisture glistened at the tip. Suddenly, Mary had the strange urge to kiss the soft head. She moved in and looked up into his eyes, wanting approval. Will ran his hands through his hair and gently pulled her head closer. He marveled at her boldness and curiosity and delighted that she wanted to experience him as much as he needed to learn her. The sight and feel of her exploring him was almost too much to bear. Mary took control the rest of the way and placed her lips on the very tip of him as he sucked air through his teeth, struggling not to jerk his organ straight into her mouth. She came back and licked her lips. Liquid sweet salt. Her lips descended further over the head as she took more of him into her mouth. Heat encircling him as she took in another inch, rolling her tongue over the crown then pulled her lips back across the throbbing glans. He gasped and pulled away. The look of confusion returned to her face and he smiled, "Mary, there is nothing to worry about. It was... quite simply beautiful. I just don't want to lose control quite yet." "That is the second time you've said it. What do you mean by 'losing control'? "I'm about to show you." He reached for her shoulder and rolled her gently onto her back, placing a knee between her thighs and laying astride of her. Both melted into the heat of each other's flesh as skin touched skin for the first time. The hard and delicate flesh she had caressed with her mouth lay pulsing hot on her thigh. Will ran his hands up Mary's ribs and stroked the underside of her breasts; let his thumbs knead the puckered tips, pinching and rolling them with his fingers. His mouth latched on to one peak, teasing it to a hardened point before doing the same to its twin. Will looked up to see Mary's eyes heavily lidded, her breathing ragged. He leaned forward and sucked on her lower lip as he kissed her, then ran his tongue down the hollow of her neck and between her breasts, descending lower. As his tongue flicked down the length of her abdomen she felt something like a spring begin to tighten low in her belly. He paused at the small beauty mark on her left side and planted a kiss on it before continuing on his downward path. The insides of her thighs twitched as he ran his tongue along the rim of her navel, then slowly lower. Her feet came to rest on his back. He looked up into her glassy eyes, the corners of his mouth creeping into a grin. Her curls hid the dewy folds of his attention and he blew on them, causing her to jump and grasp at the sheets under her. He traced a finger up the interior of her thigh leaving sparks in his wake before brushing a knuckle lightly against the hair and flattening his finger to part her nether lips. She gasped as he touched her, closing her eyes and rolling her head back. Colors danced outside of her vision and she felt the spring tighten further. Will ran his finger gently up and down her slit from the small nub to her opening, watching her unfurl before him. As he reached her gate once more he very slowly pushed inside, amply aided by the honeyed slickness of her channel. She gave a loud whimper and thrashed on the bed as he recoiled his finger upward within her, curling back and forth in a 'come hither' motion. Will moved his mouth closer to her bud hidden within her folds and exhaled a low hot breath onto her which ignited her flames and set her squirming about again. He moved his free hand around her raised thigh and placed it on her womb to steady her before flicking his tongue between her folds. He drifted lower and quickly darted his tongue insider her entrance. She gasped, her head thrown back as he smiled at her response. She tasted like strawberries adrift at sea.