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Flint’s valet was helping him into his jacket before dinner when there was a knock at the door. He nodded for the valet to open then dismissed him when he saw that it was Sophia.
“So,” she stated, drawing out the word, as she sat down in one of the high back chairs in front of the fire. Her hands rested on the purple silk covering the bump on her stomach.
Flint did not say anything but simply tugged on the sleeves of his jacket to make it sit perfectly.
“You're dressed early,” he finally acknowledged since it seemed that Sophia was not going to say anything. It was true; it was uncharacteristic of Sophia to have finished changing her clothes for dinner before Flint had.
Sophia dismissed his comment with a wave of her hand. Her mouth turned into a firm line, and she leaned forward a bit as she spoke.
“What are your intentions towards her?”
“Who?” Flint asked, even though he knew exactly who she was talking about. He stepped closer, resting one hand on the back of the other chair instead of sitting down.
“Hester. Never in my life have I seen such a bad performance.” Sophia’s voice was shrill, a clear sign that she was angry.
“There was no performance,” Flint stated curtly.
“Flint.” Even though she was only saying his name, it was clear that it was a threat. Especially when she followed it by rising and taking several steps towards him. Flint involuntarily took a step back. Even though she was a head shorter than him, he had no wish to be hit by her.
“You can’t toy with her emotions,” Sophia demanded, her posture and voice had softened a bit.
“I’m not toying with anyone,” Flint went on.
Even though it was clear that Sophia seemed to have a very precise idea about what had happened between him and Hester in the nursery, he could not make himself acknowledge it in front of her. Acknowledging it would make it more real. Make it something where he actually had to consider... what – marriage? It was impossible.
“Flint.” Only his name again. This time it was a plea. When she stepped forward this time, he did not step back. She grabbed his upper arms and looked intently into his eyes. “She is my best friend, Flint. I would hate to see her hurt. I know that her quirkiness can perhaps hide how vulnerable she actually is. You could so easily break her heart if you’re not careful.”
Flint looked into her dark brown eyes that all the Eavesgrave siblings shared. It was one of the traits that they had inherited from their father. People always said that they resembled their mother with their golden hair. His grandmother would even lament the fact that Sophia was their mother’s spitting image and that they could all go to the gallery and see for themselves. Flint had not been to the gallery since he was a boy, but the image of his parents was seared into his brain, nevertheless. Sophia did look remarkably like her.
“Flint,” Sophia interrupted his thoughts, pressing his arms to emphasize her point. “I’m not saying that you cannot pursue Hester. In fact, I think the two of you would suit each other very well... But if you want to pursue her, you need to end things with Miss Gaywood first. It’s not fair to either of them if you keep seeing Hester behind Miss Gaywood’s back.”
She looked at him as if pleading for an answer, but Flint could not find the right words. How could he explain to his sister, his pregnant sister at that, that ever since their mother had died giving birth to their stillborn baby brother, he had associated pregnancies with death? That his brain had somehow created the idea that giving birth had at least a fifty percent mortality rate and that he could not risk putting a woman he loved through it? How could he tell her that he did not expect to be any better than their father had if it ever happened? Their father who had abandoned his children with his parents and gone on a binger that lasted until his untimely death five years later.
Flint was no greater man than his father. He felt certain that if the woman he loved died, he would not be able to pick up the pieces again afterward. And he could not do that. Not to his siblings, not to the people who depended on him as an earl, and not to Hester.
He would have to marry Cecilia. They would have exactly one child which would have to be a son and she would survive the birth and then he would never put her through it again.
“Flint,” Sophia asked gently, shaking his arms. He blinked as he tried to bring her into focus, having completely forgotten that she was there. He opened his mouth to speak but had no idea what to say. She raised her blonde eyebrows and looked expectantly at him.
“I will not hurt her,” he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. “We should go downstairs for dinner.”
He pried himself loose from her grip and walked to the door, opening it for Sophia to exit first.
“Thank you,” she muttered and took the arm he offered her.
Flint only nodded, already trying to think of what to say when he met Hester in the library tonight. He needed to end things between them once and for all.
***
As she was sitting in the alcove in the library, her heart hammering in her chest, Hester’s mind once again wandered to dinner and the several hours she had just spent in the drawing room. They had been nigh on torture. She had constantly had to prevent herself from looking at Flint – and yes, she thought of him as Flint now.
She was acutely aware that she was not good at hiding her emotions. In fact, she would count herself lucky if the whole party did not know, yet she hoped they would put it down to her eccentricities and not think ill of Flint. For all they knew, he had no interest in her and was faithful to Miss Gaywood.
Hester had deliberately not looked at her all evening. She was participating in the meals now, hobbling along on crutches and moving incredibly slowly. When going back and forth to her room, one of their footmen would carry her.
If Hester put everything she had learned about morals, ethics, and common conduct among people together, she knew that she should not have agreed to meet Lord Lambourn in the library. And certainly not pushed him into promising that they would do more than kiss.
But as she had been standing in the nursery, her body tingling from their kiss, she had realized that he might be her only option to experience pleasure. She had heard Archie’s words for her inner ear: “Because it feels amazing.”
She was only slightly aware of how incredible it could be, and she wanted to know. Since she could not make it happen on her own and would most likely never marry, Flint might be her only option. If so, she had to allow herself to step into this morally grey area.
Why he was meeting her, she had no clue of, and she had decided that she would not question his decision to do so. Whatever happened in the library would stay hidden between them.
The pillows were soft under her restless fingers, clad as they were in a deep blue velvet. Of course, it was impossible to make out the color in the darkness, but Hester had spent enough time here to be able to point out every little detail.
It was a quarter past midnight. Perhaps he had been caught up in a card game again. Half an hour past midnight, Hester began questioning whether he would actually come. He was the one to suggest it. Even if he regretted it, he should at least have the decency to tell her.
Anger mixed with hurt made her jump to her feet and start restlessly pacing the floor. It was not as if she expected anything from him. She had practically offered herself to him without asking for anything other than his touch and attention. She understood perfectly well why Flint would prefer a woman such as Miss Gaywood over her. Miss Gaywood was the right material for a countess; Hester would never be.
Who had ever heard of a countess that preferred to watch birds than be around other people? Visiting tenants, hosting dinners, managing a household, and helping Flint in his political career were all matters that were beyond her to do. She might have been trained for it, but she would hate it, and it would not be fair to Flint. Nor herself for that matter.
And never mind that he had not even asked her to marry him. He was probably rather content that she had demanded nothing but pleasure. Except apparently that offer had not been enough to tempt him since he had not shown.
Maybe she should marry Algernon Gaywood. He was amenable and pleasant and... Hester stopped in her tracks, as she realized that marrying Algernon would make her Cecilia’s sister. Which would make her Flint’s sister as well, once they married. Of the three candidates there, apparently, only Francis Drummond was an option if she did not want to end up being Flint’s sister by marriage. And she certainly had no wish to do so.
Hester started pacing again, the shape of an angry rant starting to form in her mind. She was not certain when she would be able to deliver it, if ever since Flint – no he was back to Lord Lambourn now – since Lord Lambourn seemed to have decided that they would never be alone again.
The door opened quietly, and Hester's heart jumped into her throat as she halted to look at the person who had come in. It took her a moment to recognize Flint in the dim light.
“Hester, we need to talk,” he stated calmly as he walked towards her. His steps were completely soundless on the thick carpet.
“No,” Hester breathed and walked towards him. All her anger was gone in an instant and she would not examine why. Nor preoccupy herself with talk. She gently slid her hands up his arms and stepped closer to him to place a kiss on his lips.
For a moment he did not react, which only made her press herself more firmly against him. He had seemed consumed with desire in the nursery earlier – what could have happened between then and now? She molded herself against him as she had done earlier. Then she had felt how much he wanted her; there was no sign of that now though. He simply held onto her upper arms as he kissed her back.
Hester tried to deepen the kiss and once more coax him into giving in to his desire, but instead, Flint pulled away from her.
“No, Hester,” he breathed hoarsely.
“Yes.” Hester tried to kiss him again, but Flint moved his head before she could.
“We need to talk,” he stated again, and Hester felt something plummet to her feet. Perhaps her heart, perhaps something less tangible.
“There is nothing to talk about,” she said as she stepped away from him and crossed her arms. “We desire each other, that is all. I know that.”
She gulped as she hoped he did not see through her lie.
“Only desire,” he repeated, his voice even thicker than before.
“Yes, only desire,” Hester stated and could not help but blush and look away because of the words, she was about to say. “I want us to... explore while you are here as long as nothing... irrevocable happens.”
He was quiet for such a long time that she had to look at him again. She was not able to discern any visible signs of what he thought; his face was completely emotionless. Thus, Hester simply waited for him to speak.
“I... Hester,” he pleaded with her finally. And Hester knew what he was about to say.
“I will not expect anything from you. And I know this is not fair to Miss Gaywood, but officially the two of you are not betrothed yet. I just...”
She hid her head in her hands as she realized what she was saying.
“I’m sorry,” she muttered as she turned away from him and hid her head in her hands. “I just thought... since I’ll never marry, I thought... And you are the only person I have ever felt that way about...”
She slumped in the alcove in the window once again, looking at the dark courtyard outside the window. The light from the fireplace was reflected in the window and she could just about make Flint out as a dark shadow behind her. If he was wise, he would turn around and leave but instead, he asked:
“What do you mean you will not marry?” His voice was closer than she had expected even though she had been watching him. Was it possible that he had moved without her noticing it?
She gave a one-shouldered shrug.
“I am too strange, I think. Too eccentric. I had hoped this would be a good way to become acquainted with someone, but it seems that the plan did not work.”
“You’re not too strange, nor eccentric,” Flint stated firmly and sat down beside her, taking one of her hands in his. “And frankly you only invited three men here, well two more likely, since I was never certain that Percy had the least bit interest in you – if I am being honest.”
“No, I did wonder why Sophia asked him to attend,” Hester muttered and held onto his hand. “But even so, I don’t think I can go through another season, hoping that someone will suddenly notice me and appreciate me for who I am, nor could I go through a house party like this with the sole purpose of others courting me...”
She let her voice trail off, as she thought she might be revealing too much, but also that she had veered too far from their original topic.
“What I meant to say was,” she strengthened her hold on his hand at this, “that since I am not going to marry, it is unlikely that I will ever experience the pleasures of the marital bed and I just hoped that you would show me. At least some of it. Nothing irrevocable, obviously. If I ever do marry, that could pose a problem; besides I cannot risk a pregnancy.” She felt Flint’s grasp tighten on her hand as she mentioned this, but his face was unreadable in the darkness. “Which is a given I suppose. And you might be wondering, why risk it at all? But the problem is, it does not work when I’m alone and it’s just... perhaps it’s just that I would like to be certain that there is not something wrong with my body as well, and...”
“Hester,” Flint finally interrupted her. “I have no idea what you are speaking of, but let me make one matter clear: There is nothing wrong with you. Not your body, nor your mind.”
He leaned forward and kissed her, his hand cradling the back of her head, as his other hand was still holding hers in his lap. The position was awkward, and Hester had to hold onto him, to not fall back on the cushions in the alcove. Flint put his arms around her, while his tongue explored her mouth. She felt him untie the ribbon in her hair that had been brushed, braided, and prepared for the night. With a few quick tugs, her muddy blonde hair came loose and flowed down her back.
Flint broke off the kiss to pull her hair over her shoulder and bury his face in it. He breathed in deeply. Hester swayed against him, burying her nose at his neck, and did the same. The scent of Flint had already become familiar to her. Sandalwood, pine needles, wool, and something that had to be him alone.
She had never thought that the scent of another person could arouse her. That it played any part in arousal at all. It was so animalistic and yet so right. Despite all that she had read about the act and what Sophia had told her, they had forgotten this detail about smell, which seemed rather important.
Hester inhaled deeply once more and kissed Flint’s neck, eliciting a strained sound from him.
“Nothing irrevocable,” he muttered against her neck before he placed his hot, soft lips right on the spot where her neck and her collarbone met. Hester heard herself make the same strained sound, then one of frustration as he said: “But not here. Somewhere where we can lock the door.” She could hear the teasing note in his voice.
“Well, I happen to know for a fact that the entire third floor of the guest wing is unoccupied at the moment,” Hester told him, trying to sound as if she was letting him in on a secret.
“Much too far,” Flint murmured between kissing her lips.
“What exactly is required?” Hester had to ask, as she was mentally going through the rooms closest to them.
“A lock,” Flint muttered, as he kissed his way to her earlobe, then bit it gently which had Hester squirm against him. There was biting too? How could she ever have thought that she knew anything about what happened between men and women?
“Besides a lock,” she managed to say. “Do we need a bed?”
“Not necessarily, although a soft place to lie or sit is preferred. This would do splendidly if we could lock the door.”
“There’s no key,” Hester told him breathlessly as his lips were once again on her neck. “There is a salon!” she exclaimed, “Just across the hall, it has a settee.”
“By all means,” Flint stated and rose, pulling her to her feet as well.
Hester quickly led him to the room across from the library, the one that Miss Gaywood had used for recovering. If Flint noticed, he did not say anything on the matter and Hester banished the other woman from her mind.
She was going to enjoy this thoroughly so much that it could last her years, decades even. Because she had to. She found the key in a figurine by the side table and locked the door behind them. The fire had not been stocked for a while, and the room was colder, but Hester still felt herself burning.
In two quick steps, they were in each other’s arms again; Hester was not even certain whether it was she or Flint that had moved. But when she felt the door behind her back, she realized that it had to have been Flint.
His kisses were passionate and demanding as if there was nothing holding him back now. Hester clung to him, ready to take, give, and experience as much as possible.
Flint’s fingers worked on the neckline of her dress, but it was too tight to be pulled down. Even though Hester arched her back to give him more access, it was impossible. She groaned with frustration, but then the dress suddenly slid down her shoulders and freed her breasts that were only clad in her chemise. She looked up in surprise, saw the smile on Flint’s face, and realized that he had undone the buttons in the back. He leaned forward again and followed the descent of the dress with his mouth.
As his mouth found her right nipple through the thin linen, Hester gasped in both surprise and delight. The pamphlet had mentioned how nipples were sensitive areas, but she had not really believed it until she felt the instant connection between her nipple and loins.
“Should we... should we be lying down?” she breathed, her voice higher pitched than normal.
“If you want to.” Hester could feel the smile against her breast and hear the teasing note in Flint’s voice that she had never heard him use before. The serious Flint was gone, and Hester realized that being with him would not only give her great pleasure but also be fun.
Her legs were starting to feel more and more like pudding as his mouth found her nipple again while he rubbed the other one.
“I think...” she gasped, “I think I want to.”
“You think...” Flint breathed against her nipple and the feeling of his hot breath made her shiver.
“I want to,” she stated in a tone of voice that was meant to be stern but was mostly breathy and wanton.
She took Flint’s hand as she stepped out of the dress on the floor and led him to the settee by the low burning fire. Hester lay down first and reached out for Flint. He took her hand and lay down on top of her on the narrow settee. Hester thought for a moment to question his decision not to go to a room with a bed.
“I’m not crushing you, am I?" Flint asked before she had a chance to speak. Hester shook her head and decided to simply enjoy the feeling of him on top of her instead of trying to form a coherent response.
Their mouths found each other again while Flint’s fingers were playing with her nipples. His ministrations made her open her legs for him to settle between them and move her hips to meet his. She could feel his arousal through their layers of clothes.
“Hester,” he groaned.
“Yes,” was all Hester could say.
Once more he kissed his way to her breasts and found her nipple. At the same time, Hester felt his hand travel up her stocking-clad leg painfully slow. A giggle escaped her as he reached her knee. She squirmed beneath him as he repeated the movement.
“So, you're ticklish?” he chuckled.
“Yes, please don't stop,” Hester giggled again. Her movement made her press against his erection.
“I certainly won't,” he ground out as his hand trailed up the inside of her thigh. He moved slightly to the side as he reached the apex between her thighs.
Hester had known that his hand would end there, yet she could not help but sigh with relief. His hand felt warm through the thin linen of her drawers as his fingers moved gently over her outer folds. Hester longed to untie her drawers and pull them down but was too mesmerized by his caress to move.
“Do you ever touch yourself there?” Flint asked.
He was panting almost as much as her and Hester was happy that she was not the only one that was so affected by him touching her.
“I told you I do. But it doesn’t work,” she stated, a little frustrated.
Flint’s hand stilled between her legs.
“That’s what you meant?” he asked.
“Yes, what did you think I meant?”
“I honestly could not tell you. Except that you for some reason believe that there is something wrong with you and I would very much like to prove you wrong.” His finger had started moving again, finding her inner folds through the thin fabric. Hester gasped at the sensation of someone else touching her there. “I like that you are not afraid to explore your own body,” he murmured.
“Do you?” Hester gasped.
“Yes, I like it.” Flint’s fingers were continually stroking her through the fabric. Once in a while, they would brush that particularly sensitive place. She had found it herself, but despite the pleasure of touching it, she had never been able to make herself climax while doing so.
A climax was still far outside of her reach, but his teasing touch had her move her hips to try to keep his fingers at that exact spot. She was certain that he knew how to pleasure her but was simply teasing her.
“No, do you... pleasure yourself?” she breathed.
Flint kissed her cheek as he finally – finally! – untied her drawers. Hester helped him pull them down her thighs. His fingers were quicker to find her inner folds this time and the little nubbin at the top that gave pleasure. Hester could not help but moan out loud.
“I do. Every evening and every morning. And when I do... I think of you. How good it would feel to be inside of you.” As Flint uttered the words his fingers traveled lower through her slick folds and one digit found its way inside her. Hester grasped his arms as she felt her inner muscles clench around his finger. Yes, that was where she wanted him.
She clung to him as he moved his finger inside of her; a second finger joined it and his thumb found her little nubbin again. Flint was lying half on top of her. His fingers working between her legs, his mouth was on her throat, her breast, her nipple, circled back to her mouth shortly, before finding her nipple again.
It already felt better than what she had ever achieved on her own and yet her climax still felt out of reach. Hester started moving frantically, almost desperate to finally know the amazing sensation that she had only felt flickers of previously.
“Relax,” Flint told her, and Hester forced her hips to slow down. “When you said it did not work, does that mean that you have never finished before?”
Hester could not help but hide her head at his shoulder as she nodded. Flint’s fingers had slowed their ministrations, even though they had not stopped.
“What do you think of when you pleasure yourself?”
Hester shrugged.
“Different things. Sometimes I read, the... the pamphlet I mentioned, or look at the images in a medical book that my brother left behind.”
Flint huffed a laughter that was simply a particularly deep breath.
“There is more enticing material than that. Besides the best is if you can think of nothing at all,” he revealed to her.
Hester shook her head as she tried to imagine such a state. Her mind was constantly working while she was awake.
“But I need to think of something, you said that you think of...” She gulped before she could say the last word. When he had said it, she had been so excited by these new feelings that she had not thought much of them, but as she was saying them out loud, she realized the importance of them.
“Thinking is perhaps the wrong word. Fantasizing is more accurate.”
“I’m not sure I know how to do that,” Hester muttered, already feeling deterred that even with someone else it was not going to work.
“Let it be my task then,” Flint murmured before his lips found hers. His tongue met hers as his fingers started moving between her folds again. This time he gave her no respite, no chance to do anything other than what her body craved. She could not help but move her hips to meet his fingers and moan out loud at the feelings it brought. It felt wild and wanton and nothing like her, yet she liked this version of herself immensely.
She hid her head at Flint’s throat as she felt her muscles tightening inside her, in her stomach, and in her thighs. She knew that it was a sign that a climax was approaching, she had reached this far on her own but had then had to give in as it kept being out of her reach. Flint effortlessly moved her through it by continuing to stroke and caress her. His mouth found her nipple again, biting it gently and Hester cried out with pleasure, feeling as if she had reached a peak, and that she could never feel better, then gasping and laughing as she realized she had climaxed.
She pulled his mouth back to hers, kissing him for a long time. She had never felt closer to another person in her life and was certain that she never would. Several times, Flint tried to pull away from her, but each time she pulled him back and he relented with a grin.
When she finally allowed him to raise himself on an elbow above her and study her for a moment, she was surprised by the tender expression on his face.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured.
Hester smiled tentatively. The compliment was not exactly what she wished to hear, nor did she feel it fitting, but she decided to acknowledge it at that moment. It was dark in the salon after all.
He gently removed his fingers from her, and it felt like a loss. Hester pulled her drawers up again and her chemise down, not daring to be undressed when she touched him.
“Show me how you pleasure yourself,” she whispered. “How I can pleasure you,” she added.
She moved to lie on her side to give Flint space on the settee to lie on his back. He unbuttoned his pantaloons and pulled them down to take out his member. It was both longer and thicker than Hester had thought it would be and yet she felt her inner muscles clench at the thought of him being inside of her.
He took her hand and placed it gently on him, his own hand resting on top, showing her how to move.
“Like this?” Hester whispered with awe as he moved her hand.
Flint only groaned in response.
“A little tighter,” he then directed, and then a little while later: “A little faster.”
Hester’s gaze darted between his face and his manhood. His face was taut; clearly, all his muscles were tensing the same way hers had. She liked the sight of her hand working his manhood, knowing that she was able to give him such pleasure. He had one arm snaked around her, hugging her tightly, the other came up to cup her breast. Kneading it, he ground out: “A bit harder.”
Hester complied, feeling how his body was almost rigid next to her. Something hot and sticky poured from Flint’s manhood over her hand and Hester immediately let go.
“No, keep going,” Flint ground out in a strangled voice and Hester did, hearing him gasp with pleasure as more fluid erupted from him.
Hester felt him go almost limb beside her. His head fell back, there was a smile on his face, and he looked serene. She studied him intently, unsure of what to do now. A moment passed then Flint raised his head and kissed her fiercely. Hester opened her mouth at once, her tongue meeting his. The kiss seemed to go on forever, despite their half-naked state and the chill in the room that Hester was finally able to feel.
“Thank you, Hester, that was the best...” Flint told her as he finally broke off the kiss and started fumbling for a handkerchief to clean both of them with. “The best...” Flint muttered again as he put the handkerchief back in his pocket.
Hester found one in the pocket of her dress on the floor but that was not enough. She spotted a handkerchief among the books on the side table and tugged it out. A blue A was embroidered in the corner. Somehow Archie’s handkerchief had ended up in here.
“The best...” Flint repeated for a third time and Hester forgot all about her brother’s handkerchief.
“Me too,” she told him and cupped his cheek.
Flint laughed and Hester was certain he was the most handsome man who had ever lived.