Chapter Fourteen
Amber hadn’t realized it was possible to feel so many things all at once. After leaving Elliott's side, she had expected this hot, uncomfortable feeling to go away. It did not. She lie in bed in a nightrail that covered her from neck to ankle and couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d said. Not just the dark whispers in the carriage about where to touch herself and how, but the rest. The admiration he had for her jewelry designs. The laughter he’d shared with her father when discussing politics. And those horrible, horrible words, “Nothing has changed for me.”
Nothing? Nothing at all?Her entire life had turned on its ear. She wasn’t even sleeping in the same bed, and even her daydreams had deserted her. A week ago, she’d sat in the cage and dreamed of dancing with a prince. Now she had danced with…well, not the prince. The Regent was fat and married. But she’d danced with eligible bachelors who might very well offer for her hand. How could she dream about something that was actually happening? Most of her waking thoughts were occupied with the very real idea of living the rest of her life with someone who talked constantly about his horses. Or who had a mouth shaped like a frog’s.
She couldn’t imagine kissing most of them, let alone the things she’d already done with Elliott. How would she share a marriage bed with them? How would she share lunch with them? At least three ate like they were starving animals. They’d barely managed to fist their utensils.
And even if she could ignore all of that, who among them would allow her to still sculpt jewelry? To spend hours in the back shop carving wax?
The questions were exhausting. It was a relief to focus on Elliott’s instructions as she lifted her nightrail up to her neck. She trailed her fingers slowly up her sides until she cupped her own breasts. It felt odd to do so and yet also a relief. It was nice to imagine his hands there instead of her own. She tried to mimic the way he had touched her, including the pinch to her nipple.
She felt the burst of sensation from that, but it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t his hands on her, and it was hard to imagine the heat of his breath and the span of his hands. Then she tried to envision any of her suitors doing the same to her. Their hands, their mouths…
That felt so wrong that she took her hands away and rolled over in bed. She wanted Elliott, and no amount of fantasy would change that. But what if she thought simply of what was here and now? Maybe her own hands could make her feel good?
She rolled over to stare grumpily at the ceiling. In truth, she didn’t want it to feel as good by herself. She wanted Elliott’s body on hers. She wanted what he’d said would never happen unless she became his mistress. That was not a smart choice for her, not when eligible men were interested in her. Well, not her specifically. They wanted her dowry, which put them on the same level as Lysander and Demetrius. Those were the Wolf Pack men who flirted with her while eyeing the store. If she wouldn’t consider marrying them, then why was she considering the titled men who acted in the exact same manner?
Because the titled gentlemen brought something to the bargain. They offered her a way into thetonand a future for her children beyond working endless nights at the Lyon’s Den. Was that a bargain she should make?
The questions were crushing her again. They took away all the pleasure that she felt in touching herself. Which meant she either had to stop and go to sleep or…
Or dive into what she really wanted to fantasize. After all, she knew quite a lot about what happened between men and women from the upstairs ladies. And now, with some personal experience, her imagination had a great number of remembered details to make the experience more real. Elliott kissing her hard as she backed against the worktable. Elliott on his knees between her thighs as he pushed his fingers inside her.
He’d told her where to touch herself between her thighs. He’d told her to look for a place of extra sensation. He’d told her, and she remembered. While one hand squeezed her nipple, her other went between her thighs to mimic what Elliott had done to her. Except when that wasn’t enough, she imagined his mouth there. The upstairs ladies had talked often about that. And when that wasn’t enough, she thought about his manhood. She’d seen improper sketches. A great deal of improper things went through the Lyon’s Den.
Her breath came short, and her back arched. It was still a pale comparison to the real man. She persevered in any event, focusing instead on the memory of his whispers next to her ear in the dark carriage. What he’d said to do. How his body had pressed so close to hers. And how she’d wanted him right then to slip his hands between her thighs and—
She quickened with a gasp. Pleasure burst through her cells, and she rocked in startled joy. But the sensations faded quickly. No man held her. No words were whispered into her ear. And though she felt a languor spread through her body, it wasn’t the same.
Disappointed, she rolled onto her side and stared glumly into the darkness. Why couldn’t dreams come true be exactly like the dreams?
***
Morning came with a fitful sky that kept trying to rain but didn’t do more than spit. She would have slept longer, but Diana woke her with a firm knock. Then before Amber did more than crack her eyes, the woman bustled in carrying a couple more gowns that her maid had altered to fit her.
“I know it’s early, but we need to capitalize on the interest created by your dowry. I’ve gotten us invitations to a luncheon, then a stroll around the shops, afternoon tea, followed by Hyde Park. We’ll have to choose between ball invitations tonight unless you’d prefer a night at the theater.”
“Why are you doing this?” If Amber had been more awake, she would have phrased the question more delicately.
Diana’s eyes widened, and she set the dresses at the base of the bed. “Whatever do you mean?”
Amber sighed and sat up. “I’m very grateful, but you don’t owe me anything. Your brother doesn’t need me to go to any more parties.” He’d probably prefer she stay completely unknown. It would be easier to make her his mistress. “You’re giving up your time and your dresses, not to mention risking your reputation by sponsoring a jeweler’s daughter. Why would you do that?”
Diana stared at her a long moment, then she gingerly settled down on the bed. When she spoke, it was quiet and with a great deal of candor. “I never got my own season. I’d been planning it for years, but…well, you know I married against my choice. There were a few years after the wedding to do the fashionable rounds, but Richard became sick soon after that. He was better at home this winter. Strong enough to promise me treats this Season, but he grew sick the day after we arrived.”
“I am so sorry, my lady,” Amber said. And she was. Diana did not have an easy life. Amber hadn’t even met her husband. The man kept to his sickbed, but she had overheard enough from the staff. He was wasting away, and Diana had no choice but to wither with him.
Unless, of course, she had a girl to sponsor.
“I have accepted my life,” she said as she patted Amber’s hand. “But it is lovely to have a reason to go through it all with someone else.”
“Isn’t there a family member—” Amber began, but Diana rolled her eyes.
“Gwen would rather cut off her own legs than go dancing. And as for our other sister, Lilah, well she’s a by-blow, and everyone knows it. We can’t sponsor her. It just isn’t done.”
“Neither is sponsoring me.”
Diana nodded, her expression thoughtful. “Well, no one knows about you, so there’s that. Maybe I can find a way.” Then she abruptly brightened. “But that’s thoughts for next Season. I’m interested in this one. Are you ready to discuss the men?”