Page 72 of An Affair at Stonecliffe

“He’s only five years old, Mother.”

“People have long memories. What about your reputation? How can you countenance Carlisle keeping his mistress under the same roof as you?”

“That’s enough!” Adeline said in a far sharper tone than Noelle had ever heard her use with Lady Lockwood. “I won’t allow you to slander Carlisle and Noelle. I told you that they have done nothing untoward. If they love each other, they will marry. There won’t be any scandal.”

“Love!” Lady Lockwood said scornfully. “Carlisle won’t marry for love. You should know him better than to spout that pap. He will marry for sound reasons—family, name, breeding—yes, breeding, because, whatever you say, that is much more than good manners or proper grammar. It’s knowledge that is bred in the bone, an understanding of what it means to be a lady, a realization of one’s place in the world and the responsibilities that are required of her position. Carlisle will marry someone who is like him, like us. Someone who has aristocratic bearing and is related to important people. Most especially, he will not marry anyone attached to scandal. You know how he feels about his mother’s remarriage so quickly after his father’s death. He felt the sting of the gossip; he realized the inappropriateness of her behavior. Carlisle never acts impulsively or out of emotion. And he will not marry some shop-owner’s daughter because of ‘love.’”

“Her father was a professor,” Adeline replied heatedly, “and Carlisle would marry her if she—”

“If she managed to get with child?”

“Well, yes, but not just that. He would marry to protect her from gossip and scandal. If they were in fact swept away into improper behavior, he would not keep Noelle as a mistress. He would marry her.”

Lady Lockwood grunted. “I will give you that—he probably would tie himself to her just to keep a scandal from entangling you and Gilbert. But that is exactly why you must tell him to go on this quest by himself. It is your duty to keep him from the temptation. To stop the scandal before it starts.”

Noelle turned away, her stomach churning, and went back to her room; she could not face Adeline right now. However pleasant it was to hear Adeline’s approval, Noelle had learned about life in a far harsher school than the countess. She knew that Lady Lockwood was right. Carlisle would marry someone more appropriate.

As Lady Lockwood had said, he would marry her if she became pregnant; he was honorable above all else. But the last thing Noelle wanted was to trap him in a forced marriage, where whatever affection he had for her would be worn away daily by his resentment and regret.

She reminded herself that she had gone into this with eyes wide open. She had told herself she didn’t love Carlisle any more than he loved her. But she could no longer fool herself that she was teetering on the edge of falling in love with Carlisle. The truth was that she had already tumbled into that dangerous chasm.

How could she continue an affair with him, knowing that he would never be truly hers? Could she live like this, hiding her feelings, grabbing little bits of time with him, all the while knowing he would marry someone else? Her pride, her heart told her no.

But neither, she thought bleakly, could she give him up.

CARLISLE AND NOELLE departed early the next morning and arrived at Carlisle’s home late in the afternoon. His house was built of red brick, with one wall covered by climbing ivy. It was not as grand as Rutherford Hall, but it was warm and inviting.

“Do you like it?” Carlisle asked Noelle as they started toward the door, his voice unaccustomedly hesitant.

“Yes, it’s lovely,” Noelle said. “It’s...welcoming. You must be very happy to see it again.”

“I am. And I am very happy to show it to you.”

It took only a few minutes to introduce Noelle to the small staff. Jamison, his butler, apologized profusely for not having prepared a bedchamber for Noelle.

“Perfectly all right, Jamison. It’s hard to be prepared when I gave you no warning of my arrival. Just make up, um, the blue chamber for her, and I shall take Lady Rutherford for a tour of the house while you’re doing that.”

His home was a comfortable place, with furniture built more for comfort than fashion and long windows in every room to let in light. In the rear of the house was a glassed-in conservatory filled with greenery. Noelle let out a little gasp of delight. It was a light and airy space, lush with small palms and ferns and flowering plants she couldn’t identify. Waxy-leafed orange trees that would perfume the air when they bloomed. This, Noelle thought, would be her favorite room if she lived here.

But she must not think that way. It didn’t matter that she could picture Gil romping with a dog through these hallways or herself in a chair in this sunny room; it was foolish to dream about.

Later, they ambled through the garden, meandering along the twisting paths until the one they were following ended in a small arbor. Graceful trellises on three sides created a small enclosure, surrounded by red and white roses tangling together and perfuming the air.

It was lovely and secluded, and they were utterly alone. Noelle looked up at Carlisle. Somewhere along the way, he had taken her hand; it had felt so good, so right, that it had scarcely registered with her. In the shadow of the arbor, his eyes were deep and dark, intent on her face. Without thinking, she took a step closer, and his arms closed around her, pulling her up into him.

He kissed her, heat surging between them. She pressed against him, her lips answering his. Every thought, every doubt, every sensible hesitation fled from her instantly. All that existed was this moment, this kiss, this almost unbearable pleasure. Carlisle made a noise deep in his throat, and his hands moved over her, stroking her back, her hips, her buttocks.

Desire teased through her, a delicious yearning that was certain it would be satisfied. Noelle had thought she remembered how this felt—how her flesh tingled, the way her blood heated, the coiling hunger deep within her. But the reality was so much more than her memory, every part of her alive. She slid her arms beneath his coat, her hands roaming over his chest and back.

His clothes were an impediment, so she began to unbutton his waistcoat, then the shirt beneath it. At last her fingers were on his skin, warm and smooth and now familiar in a delightful way. His lips left her mouth and worked their way down her neck, seductive and slow, while his hand slipped beneath the neckline of her dress and curved around her breast.

It wasn’t enough. She wanted more. Noelle reached behind and began to undo the hooks and eyes that fastened her dress. Carlisle quickly moved to help her, and she reached for the waistband of his trousers. He groaned and bent to kiss the flesh exposed by her sagging dress. They continued to undress in the same haphazard manner, their clothes pulled off and dropped beneath them between kisses and caresses.

Spreading his jacket atop their discarded clothing, Carlisle pulled Noelle down with him and covered her with his body. Fallen rose petals lay all around them, their scent drugging, pulling Noelle ever more deeply into the blind thrall of passion. Need rose in her, insistent and powerful, and she dug her fingers into Carlisle’s back, murmuring, “Now.”

He thrust into her, satisfying her physical need as well as something far deeper inside her. They moved together, each thrust and retreat adding flame to the fire, knotting the desire ever tighter until at last it exploded, sweeping them into a cataclysm of pleasure.

For a time, Noelle simply lay there, languid and limber and at peace, Carlisle’s body warm against her, and gazed up through the tangle of roses above her.