Seven Years to Sin

“Don’t dismiss me,” he snapped, fighting the urge to forcibly stay her. He would never use physical force against her, especially not after learning what she’d suffered through in her youth.



Jessica rounded on him. “You are being impossible. Ugly. I don’t know why.”



“I’ve always believed I could have anything I wanted, if I worked hard enough. If I just sacrificed as necessary, made devil’s bargains and concessions, paid outrageous sums … I thought everything was possible and within my grasp.” He silenced the voice in his head that pressed for caution and self-preservation. “Now, I’m faced with one thing I want more than anything else on earth, and I know I can’t buy you or cajole you or force you to accept me. The feeling of powerlessness is one I cannot abide. It shortens my temper and leaves me extremely frustrated.”



Fine lines bracketed her lush mouth. “What are you saying?”



“I want you to start thinking of our arrangement as limitless, rather than finite. I want you try envisioning endless days like today. Mornings waking up in my arms. Nights passing with me inside you. Rides together in Hyde Park and waltzes in front of the ton.”



Her slender hand lifted to her throat. “You would be miserable.”



“Without you, yes.” He crossed his arms. A stiff ocean breeze whipped through his hair. Now it was he who felt rebellious and defiant. “I’m sorry I didn’t present these terms to you in the beginning. I know I spoke of our affair as fitting within a short duration of time. But my intentions—my needs—have changed.”



“I’m not certain I fully collect what your intentions are,” she said carefully. “What are you asking of me?”



“You said you’re no longer concerned with the end, but you still think of it as inevitable. I would prefer you to think of it as avoidable.”



“I thought we agreed that we would remain lovers until one of us lost interest in the other. What more can be done?”



“We can work at this”—he gestured impatiently between them—“thing between us, instead of allowing it to fade and wither. When problems arise, we can address them. If the attraction begins to wane, we can devise ways to reignite it.”



She licked her lower lip. “What would you call such an arrangement?”



Alistair pushed aside the anxiety that threatened to steal his voice. “I believe,” he said neutrally, “it’s called a courtship.”



Chapter 15



Hester drank her tea slowly, making a valiant attempt to keep something in her stomach. Though she was ravenous in the evenings, the afternoons found her still suffering from nausea. “I suggest swapping the ribbons, Your Grace,” she said to the Countess of Pennington. “Try the brown with the blue, and the green with the peach.”



Elspeth looked over her shoulder to where Hester sat on a settee in the countess’s boudoir. “Truly?”



The countess returned her attention to the material and ribbons laid out across her bed. She gestured for the modiste to do as advised, then nodded. “You’re right.”



Hester smiled. While she’d been slightly confused when Elspeth first began making persistent, yet friendly, overtures, she’d come to realize that the countess looked upon her in the capacity of a daughter. It was a role Jessica had filled, and Hester found herself enjoying the maternal companionship. She understood that Elspeth’s need was temporary, part of her re-acclimation to Society after years spent in the country. Hester envied her that idyllic life on the stunning Pennington estate.



“You should try the lemon scones,” Elspeth urged. “I vow you’ve never tasted the like. They melt in your mouth.”



“Thank you. I should like to. Another time, perhaps.”



The countess shook her head and came to her, settling on the settee opposite the one Hester occupied. “Have you tried ginger tea or broth, or both? Either will help to settle your stomach. And be moderate with greasy foods in the evening. Salted water crackers also help.”



There was a pause, and then Hester said softly, “Is it so obvious?”



“Only to an observant woman who has spent nearly every day of this last week with you.”



“Please, I must beg for your discretion.”



Elspeth’s dark eyes brightened at the hint of a secret. “You and Regmont are keeping the news to yourselves? Delightful.”



Hester hesitated, reluctant to share a confidence she’d held so close to her breast. “Regmont doesn’t yet know.”



“Oh … ? Whyever not?”



“I feel very unwell. I cannot help fearing that something is wrong. Regmont wouldn’t—He isn’t—” Hester set her cup and saucer down on the low table between them. “It would be better to wait and be certain that all is progressing as it should be.”



“My dear.” The countess reached for the tongs and moved a scone from the serving tray to a small plate. “You are squandering one of the few opportunities in a woman’s life when she can ask anything of her husband and receive it.”



“Regmont gives me too much as it is.” But not the one thing she most wished for—his peace of mind. “I also wanted to spare Jessica for a while longer.”



“She would be overjoyed on your behalf.”



“Yes.” Hester smoothed her skirts. “But she might grieve for herself, and she has enough to feel sorrowful about at the moment.”



“She will hurt more if you don’t tell her.”



“I wrote her shortly after she left. I think this is best. She won’t feel the need to put a brave face on if I’m not there when she learns the news. She can react in whatever manner is most comfortable for her, and when we see each other again, it will be with pure joy in her heart.”



Elspeth washed down a bite with a sip of tea. “You two are very close.”



Hester rubbed at the ache in her breast. “Yes. She is a sister and mother to me, as well as my dearest friend.”



“Jessica said your mother passed away when you were young.”



“I was ten, but in many ways my mother was lost to me before then. Her melancholia was debilitating. I most often saw her only in passing. She was a ghost to me—frail and wan and lacking any vibrancy whatsoever.”



“I’m sorry.” Elspeth offered a gentle, commiserating smile. “Motherhood is a gift. It is truly a shame Lady Hadley was unable to see it that way.”



“Jess would have made a wonderful mother. And Tarley, a wonderful father.”



“The same can be said about you and Regmont, I’m sure.”



Hester looked away from the countess, managing a shaky smile at the modiste’s assistants as they exited to the gallery with Elspeth’s selections.



“My dear,” Elspeth said, quietly commanding Hester’s attention. “Is it possible that you might be suffering from melancholia as well?”



“Oh, no. Truly, it’s just that I feel so wretched most of the day. And I confess, I worry about the match between Regmont and Michael tomorrow. I wish there was some way to dissuade them. Regmont takes such things so seriously.”



“You care about Michael.”



Hester felt a blush sweep over her cheeks. Over the past week, she’d found herself paying undue attention to Michael. She’d looked for him at events and around the city, hoping for a mere glimpse. The sharp prick of excitement she felt when she found him both exhilarated and saddened her. It was undeniable proof that her love for her husband had lost its ability to consume her. “He’s a good man.”



“Yes.” Elspeth set her cup down with a sigh. “I must be honest with you. I have more than one reason for cultivating our friendship. Though I’m deeply grateful for assistance with my attire, I have a need for another of your skills more.”



“If I can help in any way, I would be honored to.”



“I should like your expert opinion on the debutantes who might best suit Michael. Since you care for him as I do, I know you want to see him content in his marriage.”



“Of course.” Hester met the countess’s examining gaze directly, drawing upon years of Jessica’s coaching to hide her dismay. It was unreasonable for her to wish for him to remain as he’d always been.



Elspeth smiled beautifully. “Thank you. I hope to see him settled before the year is out.”



“That would be wonderful,” Hester agreed softly. “If we cannot manage sooner.”



A knock came at the door.



Jess smiled, knowing who it was just by the cadence. The door opened without any encouragement from her. Alistair swept into the limited confines of her cabin with absolute confidence of his welcome.



He was so comely, he took her breath away. He had changed since they’d been at sea, most especially over the past week in which they had been lovers. His beautiful blue eyes were brighter now, prone to amusement and warmth. There was a new softness to his features that, impossibly, made him even more handsome. And the way he moved … there was an underlying leisure to the sensuality that marked him. As if she soothed the beast within him. It was a fanciful thought, but one that pleased her immensely.



He came to where she sat at the table and bent to press his lips to her temple. She lifted her mouth to his with an admonishing hum, securing a real kiss from him.



“Good evening,” she breathed, feeling her usual inordinate pleasure at the intimacy between them. It was similar to the ease with which she’d lived with Tarley, yet it was not the same. Her response to Alistair was far richer and deeper in tone. It pained her to realize her relationship with Benedict hadn’t been all that it, perhaps, could have been. Yet she’d come to suspect that whatever was lacking in her marriage had been due to Alistair. Unbeknown to her, he’d been there in the shadows, occupying a space in her mind that he’d allowed no one to usurp.



“It is now.” He straightened, revealing a leather-bound ledger tucked under his arm.



“What is that?”



“Work.” He set it down on the table.



She smiled and set aside the quill with which she’d been writing a letter to Hester. “I’m happy you came to me even though you have more pressing matters to attend to.”



“I would prefer to make love to you instead, but I suspect you’ll soon be indisposed to such exertions.”



Her brows rose. Her courses had begun just that morning. “How did you know?”



He shrugged out of his coat and draped it over the chair opposite her. “How could I not know? I touch your body more than I touch my own. Your breasts are swollen and tender, and your desire for sex has been at a fever pitch the last two days. Among other signs.”



Jess’s mouth curved with wry amusement. “Observant man.”



“Can’t be helped,” he said, smiling back at her. “I cannot take my eyes off you.”



“Flatterer,” she teased. “And, sadly, I am indisposed. I could accommodate you in other ways, though …”



He sat. “A delicious thought, but I am content to simply be with you.”



Jess inhaled a deep breath, an involuntary response to the sudden racing of her heart. He said the words so casually, but she was deeply affected by his openness and the vulnerability inherent in his lack of guile. Lord knew, she was vulnerable, too. “I feel the same,” she said softly.



“I know.” Alistair reached across the table for her hand. “I cannot tell you what it means to me that whether or not we have sex doesn’t affect your desire to spend time with me.”



She couldn’t say why it surprised her to learn that a handsome man wanted to be appreciated for more than his exterior and desired for more than his sexual prowess. “Alistair …”



“Don’t pity me,” he said sharply in response to her softened tone of voice. “I will take any emotion from you but that one.”



“I adore you.”



The harsh line of his mouth smoothed. “That one will do nicely.”



She shook her head. “I won’t have you feeling ashamed of yourself because of me. I have not—nor will I ever—judge you harshly for your past choices, but if you cannot abide yourself when we’re together, we are better off apart.”



He scowled. “Now, see here—”



“No, you must see. You have to decide, right this very moment, that you are as worthy of my affections as any other man. If you cannot, I would like for you to leave.”



Alistair cursed under his breath. “You cannot say such things to me.”



“Damned if I can’t,” she shot back. “You may delude yourself into thinking I’m perfect, but I am only a woman and only partly a woman at that, since I’m barren. I must say, it’s vastly unfair that I cannot have children; yet I bleed as if it was possible.”



“So, you are menstruating?” he asked in a tone that was too light.



“If you were worried I wouldn’t, you should not have been.”



He held her gaze. “Are you certain? Perhaps the fault was Tarley’s.”



“No. He had a child with a mistress before we wed.”



“Perhaps the child wasn’t his?”



“If you saw the boy, you would have no doubt. Like your brothers, he is the very image of his father.”



Alistair nodded and directed his attention to his ledger.



A chill moved through Jess. The end of their relationship was inevitable if he wanted children, which most men did. And he deserved that sort of happiness.



“I’ve watched you with the boy,” she said, referring to the child she’d tried to rescue from abuse a week before. Alistair had taken an interest in the young sailor, working with him on knots and other useful skills, and she had enjoyed watching them together. “You will make a wonderful father someday.”