In another moment of role reversal, she heard, “Mistress, yes. Come with me.”
She obeyed. Her muscles clamped down on him and she shook under him, surrounded by him. Her breasts grazed the brocade of the settee, and her hands dug into the wood. Each piston slapped her hardened nub and sent a fresh pulse of heat through her, as though his cock touched her fingers, toes, ears, and everything in between. Sagging in his arms, she rode the wave until it ebbed.
His hips jerked hard, and the pulsing of his cock inside her prolonged her ride.
Vaguely she felt him reposition them both. As they lay, her on him now, prone on the settee, it was clear that for the short term, William needed her.
She might be simply an outlet for the moment, but she was a much-needed—and much-satisfied—outlet. She grinned against his chest.
* * * *
It was a sign of her urgency that Belle had forgotten a disguise. She burst through the back door in full courtesan regalia. A scarlet gown—such a cliché, Charlotte smirked—makeup, hair up in an elaborate coiffure, musky rose scent wafting.
“Good morning, Belle. This is an unexpected but lovely surprise. Tea?” Charlotte motioned for a servant to bring another place setting and teacup and saucer.
“I may need brandy. You should have brandy.” She collapsed into William’s—and her usual—chair.
Charlotte’s brows rose. “Always so dramatic, Belle.”
Gathering herself, her friend sat up straight and took two deep breaths. Leaning forward, she took Charlotte’s hand and sighed again.
“Right. Now you are frightening me. Whatever is the matter?”
“You have not yet heard the news. Right, then.” She eyed the newspaper across the room on the desk.
“You know I like to have my breakfast in peace before facing the newspaper, correspondence, and the like.”
“When did you last see William?”
Charlotte tilted her head and looked at her. “Two days ago, why?”
“Have you heard from him since?”
“No. He had something urgent he needed to handle for the family that was complicated, and there was a late meeting of his acquaintances after Lords last night. He planned to come tonight. Why, Belle?”
“His father passed.” Belle sat back, grim-faced.
“What? No. When? How? He is barely fifty! No.” Charlotte was not quite sure what question to ask first.
Oh, William. She wanted to hold him and protect him from the mantle of responsibility that weighed so heavily on him. Just as she knew he wanted to do for his mother and sister.
“Explain, please.” She needed to hear more.
Belle gestured toward the desk. “There is not much information in the newspaper. A formal note of his death, due to ‘a heart condition,’ which we all know was whisky-infused, and William’s new title.”
“Oh, puppy,” Charlotte murmured, her heart hurting for her young lover’s increased burdens. Then Isabella’s last words registered, and her own heart shattered.
She could not help him any longer. He needed heirs sooner rather than later. They were out of time.
Chapter Twenty-Six
William stood in the front pew of the church. His mother stood beside him, his sister on her other side. Percy and his family were beyond Emily.
I am out of time.
There would be no more joint decisions, no more sharing the burden with Percy and his mother. Of course, he’d always be able to ask them for their advice, they’d always support him, and they’d prepared him well. And really, he’d been managing it all for months.
He could not even regret his last conversation with his father. His father was out of time to fix himself and his relationship with his family. He never hugged his wife or daughter or son one last time to tell them he loved them—and perhaps even that he was sorry. No, William was too angry still to mourn his father.
