Innocence in Regency Society. Diane Gaston

the modiste or do you choose to be your own dressmaker, too?’

      He meant to be good-tempered, but she responded with a wounded look.

      ‘I cannot sew.’

      Lord, women were difficult.

      ‘It is of no consequence,’ he said, hoping to return to her good graces. ‘I’m sure we can find a skilful mantua maker. I would be pleased to see you in a pretty new dress.’

      Her countenance changed, as if he had said something of great importance that had never occurred to her before. ‘Of course. I understand perfectly.’

      He wished he understood. Devlin poured himself more wine and drained the entire contents of his glass. It was easier to evade the musket balls of an entire French battalion than to navigate a simple conversation with a female.

      ‘Linette is falling asleep. I need to make her ready for bed.’ Madeleine rose from her chair.

      ‘I’ll carry her.’ Devlin lifted Linette, and the little girl relaxed against him, a warm bundle more than comfortable against his shoulder.

      He followed Madeleine into the bedchamber where they had set up Linette’s bed. A connecting door joined the two upstairs bedchambers. He wanted to think of Madeleine knocking softly on that door and coming to him in the night, but, after the morning’s débâcle, he was sure she would not do so.

      Madeleine pulled out a tiny nightdress from the bureau. Linette’s meagre supply of clothing barely filled half a drawer, and Devlin vowed to ensure the child, as well as the mother, had a pretty new wardrobe.

      ‘Place her on the bed, please.’

      He did so as gently as he could. ‘Toast,’ Linette murmured, opening her eyes momentarily.

      Madeleine glanced at Devlin and smiled. How pleasant it felt. He had no idea domesticity could be so comfortable.

      After she settled the child into bed and kissed the soft pink forehead, Devlin wrapped his arm around her and squeezed. ‘She’s a fine child, Maddy.’

      ‘She is everything to me.’ Her voice shook with emotion.

      Madeleine leaned her head against Devlin’s shoulder. His strong arm felt so comfortable, she could almost imagine he belonged to her and they were gazing upon their own—

      No, she must not lapse into that particular fantasy. She must remember that Devlin wished to see her in pretty dresses, just as Farley had. She must remember that she owed him for his kindness.

      ‘Shall I ready myself for bed as well, sir?’ She modulated her voice as she had been used to doing for these last years.

      He placed her away from him and looked into her face. Madeleine knew how to control her expression. She smiled, half-demurely, half-seductively. She gently caressed his neck, leaning forward so when he glanced down, a peek of the rounded shape of her breasts was clearly visible. She led him to the connecting door, pulled him into the other room, closing the door behind her.

      ‘Shall I kiss you?’ she purred, wrapping her arms around his neck. Not waiting for his answer, she stood on tiptoe and touched her lips to his.

      Yes, she could do this, she thought, keeping her body in firm control. She could indeed pleasure Devlin and repay his kindness without ever pleasuring herself.

      Devlin wound his arms around her and pressed her against him. Desire flared inside him, and he deepened the kiss. She reached her hands around to loosen the already loose strings of her dress. It fell to the floor, leaving only her corset and shift. He ran his hands across her bare shoulders.

      So lovely. So soft. Like honey. He wanted her. Wanted to plunge into her, join himself to her and not feel so alone.

      ‘Shall we go to the bed, my lord?’

      The words echoed in his mind, from long ago.

      He released her, watching as she moved toward the bed. She tossed a seductive glance over her shoulder.

      She climbed onto the bed and turned to face him. ‘Come, let me remove your clothing.’

      He rubbed the back of his neck. And stood his ground.

      ‘Come,’ she purred, reaching her arms above her head, arching her back. ‘Come, my lord.’

      Devlin spoke quietly. ‘You must call me Devlin. Did you forget that, Maddy?’

      She rolled to her side and stared at him.

      ‘This is not Farley’s establishment.’ He stared back.

      She twisted the sheet in her hand.

      ‘Go to your room, Maddy. Your daughter might need you this night.’

      She sat up. ‘No.’

      ‘I do not want your favours.’ Something else from her, perhaps, but not what Farley required of her.

      ‘But you must.’ A desperate look came over her.

      ‘No.’

      She scampered off the bed and gathered her dress, holding it in front of her, covering herself with it. ‘Please, Devlin, you must let me make love to you. You must.’ Her words came out between laboured gasps.

      ‘No, Maddy.’

      He walked to the door and opened it.

      ‘Devlin, I am used to this. It is not difficult. I will pleasure you. It will be pleasant, I promise you.’ Tears sprang to her eyes.

      With every sensation in his male body, Devlin wanted to accept her offer, but he could not bear the emptiness in her seductive words. He well remembered what had passed between them that first time and this was not it.

      She rubbed her eyes, now red and swollen. Her nose had turned bright pink. ‘I…I wish to show you my gratitude.’

      ‘Gratitude? Do you think I desire your lovemaking out of gratitude?’

      Confusion wrinkled her brow. Devlin suspected that was not part of her practised repertoire. She clutched her dress in her hands. ‘You want me, I know you do. Men like to…to…You liked it, too.’

      He had indeed, but not when her eyes stared vacantly and her words were rehearsed.

      ‘Go to bed, Maddy. Your own bed, not mine.’

      She dropped her dress to the floor and wound her arms around his neck, kissing wherever her lips could reach. At least her rehearsed seduction had fled, but her desperation was no better. None the less, his body flared to life. He picked her up and she sighed in relief, nuzzling his neck. He carried her through the doorway and dropped her on to the large bed in the other room.

      ‘No, Devlin.’ She grabbed the front of his shirt, trying to pull him back. ‘You do not understand. I must do this.’

      He moved her hands away, trying to be gentle, but not succeeding. The demands of his body were making him harsh. ‘You do not need to bed me. It is not something I demand of you.’

      ‘But it is the only thing I can do.’

      Madeleine watched him turn away from her and walk toward the door. ‘You do not understand,’ she whispered. ‘It is the only thing I can do.’

      He did not look back, but closed the door behind him, leaving her alone.

      Devlin fled down the staircase and out into the damp night air. He strode through lamp-lit streets until reaching the nearest gaming house. Instead of sounding the knocker, he stood staring at the entrance. What would he find inside? Cigar smoke? Bad brandy? The luck of the draw? It was not ennui he sought to dispel this night, but the turbulence left in Madeleine’s wake.

      Why not accept her gratitude and bed her? He’d rescued her from Farley’s, hadn’t he? Taken in her child and her mouse of a maid. Provided them proper lodgings.

      Devlin turned from the door