Thankfully, Benjamin didn’t have to issue another blow to the old colonel in order to detain him. Becky arrived with the Bow Street Runner just as Benjamin was barreling down the stairs. He explained the charges against the man, and the runner quickly tied him up and carted him off. Much to Benjamin’s relief, Wallace was in too much pain to say anything, and he left without a word.
“Well, my dear,” Ben said to Phoebe as they stood in the parlor. “Would you like to stay here—” He patted the sofa, and a thick cloud of dust puffed into the air. “Or shall I show you Wetherby Manor?”
She smiled up at him with the openness and innocence she’d had when they first met, before she knew of all his indiscretions. The fact that she looked at him that way now, after all she’d learned about him, meant so much more. If she could love him in spite of all his mistakes, they would be able to get through anything.
“Wetherby Manor, please,” she said with a little laugh. “I don’t ever want to set eyes on this place again.”
“Agreed.”
They made their way to the manor on foot. He could have hired a hack, but it was a lovely day, and Phoebe claimed she wouldn’t mind a bit of fresh air. Benjamin carried the two small satchels she and Becky had brought with them, knowing they could not have brought more than one other dress each. He made up his mind to detour them to Bond Street. Neither of them knew where Wetherby Manor was, so it wasn’t until he stopped in front of a dress shop that Phoebe raised an eyebrow.
“Please do not tell me you live in a dress shop, Benjamin, for that would simply be too much.”
He laughed, elated that her sense of humor had returned, and pushed the door open. “You’re a marchioness now. It is time you started dressing like one.”
Phoebe didn’t argue with him, and why would she when her husband was holding open the door to a fancy dress shop? She was a woman, after all.
They spent the afternoon in the shop, trying on various ready-made dresses and modeling them for Benjamin, who sat patiently in the waiting room. He browsed the fashion plates, making suggestions for future gowns to be made, but since she would still be in mourning for a few more weeks, the ones they took home that day would have to be black or gray. He was grateful her mourning period would be shorter than the rest of theirs, as merely an in-law, for he far preferred her in vibrant colors. And Lord knew he could use a ray of sunshine through this dark time.
Becky chose several dresses of a more simplistic nature, which would serve her station better than elaborate gowns. Despite her uneasiness at Benjamin’s generosity, it was obvious she enjoyed the spree every bit as much as her mistress.
Several hours and quite a few shillings later, the trio made their way to Wetherby House. Ben enjoyed the look of wonder on his wife’s face as they crossed the threshold into the foyer. It was quite an impressive place, with the shiny gray-and-white marble floors and the wide-winding staircase. But he noticed that it was the naked statue that sat in the curve of the staircase that held her attention.
A blush rose to her cheeks, and he knew she had missed him just as much as he had missed her . . . in the Biblical sense, of course. But she had been through quite an ordeal, and though he was sure the shopping had helped to take her mind off of it, he wasn’t sure she was ready to be thrown into bed.
“Would you like a tour of our house?” he asked as she handed her things over to Becky and Deane, the stalwart butler of Wetherby House.
“I would love one . . . and perhaps a bath?” she suggested with a grimace. Of course she would want to bathe after having that lascivious bastard slavering all over her. Ben thought he might like one himself just thinking about it.
“Mrs. Norris!” he shouted, and the portly housekeeper came forth from a small door just beyond the staircase. He gave a quick introduction of his new wife and her maid, and insisted that Becky be shown to one of the guest rooms upstairs, then ordered a tub of hot water be set up in the master chamber.
He took Phoebe’s hand and looped it around his elbow, leaving the boxes from the dress shop to Becky and Mrs. Norris, then led her from the foyer into the front parlor. The house was large, and all the rooms interconnected. The ground floor had a series of reception rooms in addition to a small study that his mother enjoyed for writing her correspondence. Phoebe oohed and aahed at each room, and Ben enjoyed seeing the house through fresh eyes. His family had always resided here when they were in London, so he supposed he took it for granted.
Phoebe marveled even more at the rooms on the first floor: the grand, crimson-colored ballroom, lined with gilt-edged mirrors; the private parlor with its yellow-and-white-striped décor; the family portrait gallery that spanned the length of the house; and especially the music room with the custom-made Broadwood piano.
“Would you like to play?” he asked her, but when she turned to him, he saw the weariness in her eyes.
“Later, perhaps? I’m really quite desperate for that bath.”
Ben touched his fingers to her temple and gently stroked her cheek. “Of course.”
They made their way up one more floor to the master suite of chambers. The copper tub sat before the fire, and Phoebe sighed in apparent relief at the sight of it. Ben had to admit it looked inviting. He could see the steam coming off the water, could smell the lavender-scented oil that had been added.
It was absolute torture watching his wife undress and slip into the tub. Every muscle in his body ached as he held them in check, resisting the urge to reach out and touch her. Though she gave off the appearance of a woman of great fortitude, he was sure she must still be shaken from her encounter with Wallace that morning. For tonight, Benjamin would stifle his own desires for her sake.
***
The next morning, as Phoebe stared at her husband over a quiet breakfast, she noted that the horrific events of yesterday morning seemed as if they had happened years ago, rather than a mere twenty-four hours earlier. Benjamin had played quite the gentleman, taking her shopping, touring the house with her. She couldn’t quite believe he had watched her bathe without so much as trying to kiss her. Though, it had been obvious he’d wanted to. She had seen the ardor in his eyes . . . and in his trousers.
Phoebe had been torn herself over whether or not she was ready to receive him in the marital sense, so she let him hold her and caress her, and she fell asleep in his arms.
This morning, however, she was feeling the effects of three whole weeks without her husband. It didn’t help that he looked so blasted handsome in his dark gray jacket, his hair slightly askew. She had watched him tie his neckcloth with great care, but all she really wanted to do was tear it off of him now.
He looked up and caught her staring. Her skin flushed at the promise in his eyes, and she gave him the sultriest smile she could muster. Clearly, he understood her meaning, for he dropped his fork midbite, letting it clatter to the fine china plate, and moved to her side.
Phoebe thrilled at being dragged through her new home as if she were a cave woman by her primal beast of a husband. It had been too long since they’d shared the intimacy she so loved and desired. She craved it, craved him, so much that she gave little notice to the servants they passed on the way to their chamber.
When at last they reached the large mahogany doors that led into the bedchamber, her heart began to race with uncertainty. It had been three weeks since she had shared a bed with her husband. What if she’d forgotten all she learned?
She didn’t have time to think on that much, for Benjamin had her in the room, on the bed and half-undressed within mere seconds. His carnal manner reminded her of their wedding night, and joy bubbled up inside of her.
Deciding it was best not to think, she let her instincts take over and reached down to the bulge between his legs. He was hard, so hard, and it made her blood run warm in her veins. The warmth spread right down to her core, to the place that ached to feel him.
He gave a low moan as she rubbed him, but clearly it wasn’t good enough with the thick layer of fabric that separated her hand from his skin. He stood from the bed, keeping his eyes fixed on her as he tugged and yanked and pulled until the trousers finally found their way to the floor.
Phoebe sat up, deciding she wanted to try something new this time, something she’d read about in a very naughty book Katherine had given to her. She took Ben’s hands and drew him closer until he stood right in front of her, his member, large and throbbing, a mere inch from her face.
Oh, Lord! It was so big! How would she ever do what the picture depicted without choking herself?
“Phoebe,” he rasped, “what are you doing?”
With a new determination, she cast her glance upward and gave him a sly smile as she wrapped her hand around the base of his member. “Just trying something new.”
And then she wrapped her lips about the tip.
“Good God!” Ben shouted and jumped, so Phoebe pulled back.
“Did I do something wrong?”
He seemed to want to laugh at this, but he didn’t. “Where the devil did you learn about this?”
Phoebe wanted to test the waters again, and so she put a tentative tongue to the tip and gave it a quick lick, almost as if she were eating a chocolate ice. Though it didn’t taste as good as a chocolate ice, it was far more arousing somehow. The musky smell and the illicit act caused moisture to pool between her legs. She wanted more of him.
“I learned it,” she answered, kissing him between words, “from . . . your . . . sister.”
“No! No, no, no, no, no!” He grabbed her chin so she had to look up at him. “You are never to mention my sister while we’re doing this again!”
She pulled away and gave him a haughty retort. “You asked.”
“Don’t answer next time.”
“Do you want me to stop?”
“Dear God, I don’t ever want you to stop, my sweet, darling, Phoebe.”
A smile tugged at the corners of her lips with the knowledge that she could bring him such pleasure. And her mouth was on him again, devouring him, tasting him, reveling in the moans and groans above her. It was all she could do to keep her wits about her when he reached down and tugged on her nipple.
Blessedly, he pulled away from her then and pushed her back onto the bed. Though she had enjoyed the exploration and the surprising amount of pleasure she herself had gained from the experience, the ache between her legs was becoming unbearable. It had been weeks, and she needed him. Now.
But he took his time. First he kissed her, thoroughly, making the storm inside of her brew until she couldn’t take anymore.
“Please,” she begged. “I need you, Benjamin.”
With an ecstatic groan, he flipped onto his back, bringing her with him. Her legs straddled his hard thighs, and she landed on his rigid length. He wasn’t inside of her yet, but it was bliss merely to feel him against her, hot and hard. With painstaking slowness, Benjamin pulled her forward, sliding her along his cock until they reached the right angle for him to slip into her.
Phoebe winced with pure pleasure at having him inside of her. He pressed up and she pressed down—he was so deep, and she felt so wicked sitting atop him, riding him like a prized stallion.
She loved the control she wielded in this position, and even was so daring as to lean over and dangle her breasts in his face. He grabbed on to them and devoured one nipple with his ravenous appetite, while he used his fingers to titillate the other.
They had made love before but never like this. Never with this wild, urgent need that came of being apart for longer than either of them really wanted.
It didn’t take long before the inexorable rhythm sent both of them spinning out of control into unbridled ecstasy. Phoebe cried out as Benjamin released a low and guttural roar. He came halfway up, and Phoebe clasped her arms behind his neck, pressing herself to him as they prolonged the moment, the blissful moment.
They stayed like that, holding one another close, their bodies slick with sweat, trying to find purchase in the real world once more. After a few minutes, when their breathing had slowed and the sweat began to cool on Phoebe’s back, he guided her to lie beside him.
***
“Benjamin,” she said a while later as she stared up at the dark green canopy above them. When she felt his eyes on her, she turned to look at him. “I think I would like to go home.”
“I assume that by home you mean Ravenscroft Castle and not Blakeny House?”
Phoebe laughed. “Of course, I mean Ravenscroft.” Then she sobered a bit. “I think it’s time I had a long talk with my mother.”
Ben nodded. “I couldn’t agree more.”
For the first time since she’d been in London, she thought about her great escape from Ravenscroft Castle. “Though I could wait one more day to deal with Kat’s wrath.”
Benjamin raised one, dark eyebrow in curiosity. “What does Kat have to do with anything?”
“Ah . . . well, she may have had it in mind that she was coming with Becky and me to London.”
“And? What happened?”
Oh, dear. What would Ben think of the way they’d escaped from the bosom of his family? “I didn’t want her to come.” She waited to see what he would say, but he didn’t say anything. He stared at her until she was forced to continue the story. “I left a note,” she said, by way of an excuse. “But I knew if your family knew we were trying to leave, they would somehow get involved. Kat had already begun to make a big to-do over coming here, and I . . . I needed to be alone with you.”
“You are a peculiar and fascinating woman, Lady Eastleigh.” He lifted her hand gently and kissed her fingers. “And that is why I love you.”
A smile lit her up from the inside out. “I love you, too.”