Darcy and Fitzwilliam: A Tale of a Gentleman and an Officer

All that remained then was the annoying problem of their second coupling, only twenty minutes after the first. Oh dear God. She blushed crimson with the memory. Who could have believed such depraved behavior from her? She had succumbed to madness twice within one hour. A second coupling within one hour was just flagrant wickedness, wasn’t it? And, frankly, wasn’t “it” much slower the second time, more inventive, more intimate, and much more thorough? She shook her head and groaned, her lips moving with her thoughts. I am vile and sinful and decadent and…loud, and she blushed even deeper with the memory of just how loud. Oh, but heaven forgive me, I would run to him again right now, this very second, if he asked. She opened her clenched eyes and caught sight of the ripped chemise dangling from a curtain rod above the bed, where Fitzwilliam had hastily tossed it.

Anthony was right about one thing. If done correctly, lovemaking certainly did feel like sin.

“Amanda, to whom are you speaking?” Fitzwilliam was rapidly becoming annoyed. Why the little hoyden looked embarrassed to tears by her passion, even as sweet and as innocent as it had been. She had been all warm love and gentleness, completely surprised by the strength of emotions involved in physical love. At the height of her passion, she had gasped his name. Anyway, she had gasped someone’s name into his ear. Heaven knows he had been in no condition at that particular moment to comprehend anything.

You could not wait, could you, Fitzwilliam? No, you had to release the beast! What do I say to her now? How can I explain to her what I really had planned for us?

“You think I am an easy woman, don’t you?” She was watching his face, thinking how disillusioned with her he appeared. “I do not see how this will ever work out.” Her resentful reaction had been exactly what he had predicted it would be, but she loved him so much that she had tried to force herself into behavior that was against her principles. Maybe “forced” was too strong a word, especially since she seemed to recall entreating him for that second time . Eeeeh! Everything was ruined. She had shown her true wanton colors, and he was finished with her.

He threw off the covers and boldly stood before her in all his glory, grabbed his smallclothes, and leisurely began to dress. Amanda let out a gasp at his nakedness and turned her back again to him. You see, the disrespect has begun already.

“I am afraid you are right, dearest, this is not for us, and I shall attempt to restrain myself from saying I tried to warn you.” He smiled at her lovely back with all that soft white skin, and at her delicate sensibilities. She really was adorable. An easy woman! Ha! He almost began to laugh out loud at that. He was pulling on his boots within moments. “You know, Amanda, that I love you very much.”

He saw the back of her head nod. “No more than I love you, Richard.” Her voice was barely audible. She wiped at her nose with the back of her hand.

“All right, then. Let’s get you buttoned, and we’ll go out, shall we? I have a surprise for you anyway, dear. I was planning to show you earlier, but you kept removing your clothes, if you remember.”

“Richard!!”

“Yes, I know, you prefer to not discuss it.” He reached into his coat pocket and then handed her the packet of papers he had spent days procuring. She opened them up and began to cry.

***

Within two hours, the special license Richard had acquired from the offices of his dear cousin, the Archbishop of Canterbury, had been presented at the nearest church. Amanda Sayles Penrod and Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam became husband and wife, yet one more relieved bride clinging to her eager bridegroom within the morally ambiguous London social elite.

In her tearful joy and pride, Amanda struggled to suppress those misgivings and suspicions that nagged her, forced to the background fears regarding acceptance by his family, qualms that he would grow to hate the secrecy this deed would force upon them.

She had married in haste again—true, this time to a man she adored, but as before, a man she did not know. It was her grab for happiness, and so she managed to restrain the sense that her problems were just beginning.

Chapter 17