Page 59

I couldn’t speak yet, my body not yet obeying me. He ran his soaked fingers down my leg, leaving a trail of himself behind.

“You’ve no idea what it does to me to see you filled with my seed,” he said, lowering his mouth to plant a kiss on my stomach. “All these moments I dreamed of, for so long. And you made them all possible, my little viper.”

I sucked in a breath. Yes I had. I’d lain open the way for him to claim me, without even realising it.

“Are you ever gentle?” I asked, wishing my lungs would fill with air instead of flapping uselessly inside my ribcage.

He raised his head, gazing up the length of my body. “Gentle? Would you like me to be gentle?”

I pressed a hand to my eyes, my cheeks burning. “I-I don’t know.”

“Then we shall have to find out.” His fingers brushed over my still-hard nipple. “We have time, wife, all the time in the world to discover what you like.”

I let him fondle and explore me. I lay on the bed as my skin cooled, and let his mouth wander over my skin. I let his tongue lick away the sweat.

It wasn’t until he left, and I rushed to the bathroom to cleanse my body of his seed, praying that none had taken root, that I caught sight of myself in the mirror. My hair was in disarray. My cheeks were flushed. There were bright red marks on my breast and stomach, even one on my leg, where he had sucked my skin til it bruised.

I let out a sigh as I inserted the syringe, and watched his spend wash out of me into the small basin. I knew I was in trouble. But I had no one to speak to about this. The nuns who had administered my education had been of no use, and besides a vague lecture from Aunt Adelaide the night before my wedding, I had no idea what intercourse was supposed to be like.

Was it this? This pleasure that left me gasping and breathless, in delighted disarray, my body craving more, and more of him? For even now, I wanted to run down the corridor after him and drag him back to me, beg him to do it all again, all night if we could. Was that possible? And what would happen to me if we did?

I looked back at my reflection and I knew that I needed some help.

I needed to meet this Rebecca who worked in Stepney.

17

REBECCA FROM STEPNEY

The messenger arrived at the door the next morning, not long after I had taken my breakfast and readied myself for the day. Even before Mary had handed me the envelope, I knew what the message was. An emergency messenger sent on horseback? What else could it be?

Mary looked as though that for all the world she wanted to protect me, but I gave her a smile and held out my hand.

“Give it to me, Mary. It is alright.”

“Madam, I want you to know that I meant what I said.” She placed the envelope in my waiting hand. “I will stay with you, no matter what.”

“Thank you, Mary. You may leave now.”

She bobbed a quick curtsey and hurried out the door, casting one last glance at me before closing it.

The letter burned in my hand. For I instantly recognised my aunt’s handwriting. It did not surprise me at all that she had used this method, not a telegram. For all she had to say, she certainly did not want anyone else seeing, and it would certainly not fit into one telegram.

I let out a long breath, before slicing the envelope open with an ivory-handled opener. The writing was scrawled, written in haste, but undeniably Adelaide’s hand. I was surprised to see that the letter was, in fact, not long at all.

My dear niece,

I do not know what you mean by this. I have no idea how I am to tell your father.

I trust you realise what an outrage this is.

I shall be in London by Friday.

Expect me then.

Your aunt,

Adelaide