The Regency Season Collection: Part One. Кэрол МортимерЧитать онлайн книгу.
she do that?
Or would the memories of the past intrude once again and bring with them the fear and aversion that was all she had known as Martin’s wife?
Mariah looked up at him searchingly, not at his handsomeness; that was all too apparent. No, she looked into his eyes, those clear, deep and unwavering green eyes. Eyes that spoke of a man of both honour and truth. A man capable of killing his enemy, if necessary, but totally incapable of physically hurting a woman, most especially one he desired. And Wolfingham did desire her, was making no effort to hide that fact as he steadily met and returned her searching gaze.
Was she ready?
Was it time for her to release her memories of the past, along with her inhibitions, and give in to these new, and at times uncomfortable, yearnings of her own body?
Was she ready to do that?
‘Good gracious!’ Darian winced up at the pale pink marble structure of what could only be described as a miniature copy of the Greek Parthenon he had visited whilst taking the Grand Tour ten years ago or more.
Nestled amongst the woodland to the left of the lake at Eton Park, exactly as Benson had said it would be, it had six small Doric-style marble columns fronting the building, with ten more along each side, and a domed cupola on the roof. And standing in pride of place before the huge wooden doors at its entrance was a nude statue, of what Darian could only assume was Aphrodite, cupping and stroking her own breast.
A nude statue that should not have been there, considering that, if Darian remembered his Greek mythology correctly, the Parthenon in Greece was dedicated to Athena, the virginal goddess of wisdom and philosophy.
‘I can only assume that Lord and Lady Nicholses’ knowledge of the Greek gods must be as lacking as their good taste,’ Mariah drawled beside him, revealing that her own knowledge on the subject was not lacking at all.
Darian chuckled huskily. ‘One does not need to make assumptions once they have seen this.’
Mariah’s eyes danced merrily as she glanced up at him. ‘It does err rather on the side of ostentatious.’
‘That is one word for it!’ Darian gave a disgusted shake of his head. ‘I sincerely hope that Benson is not of the opinion that the two of us share his employers’ bad taste!’
Mariah peered around the statue at the huge oak doors. ‘What do you think is inside?’
‘Even more lewd statues?’
‘Perhaps,’ she murmured distractedly as she moved forward to rest one gloved hand on the handle of the door. ‘Shall we go inside and see?’ she invited huskily.
Darian had to admit to feeling as if a heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders since leaving the oppression of the Nicholses’ household, having enjoyed being out in the fresh air with Mariah walking companionably beside him and wearing a pelisse and bonnet the same russet colour as her gown.
He was in no hurry to forgo that feeling of companionship by entering what he could only assume, in the knowledge of the Nicholses’ tastes, and Benson’s warning that it would not be empty this evening, was more than likely to be a place where the Nicholses continued their debauchery. ‘I doubt it will be any more tasteful inside than out.’ He grimaced.
Mariah turned the handle and pushed open the door. ‘We will not know— Oh!’ She gave a gasp as she stepped inside. ‘Oh, do come and look, Darian,’ she encouraged breathlessly. ‘It is— You will never believe what is in here!’
Darian found himself moving forward to join Mariah inside the temple, partially lured there at having her address him by his first name, something she rarely did voluntarily, but also out of the need to discover exactly what sort of debauchery had awaited her inside and rendered her so breathless.
Darian felt the difference in temperature as soon as he stepped inside—the cavernous marble building was filled with an inexplicable heat. Or perhaps not so inexplicable, as he breathed in the slightly sulphurous smell only thinly disguised by the scent of lavender and realised that the mixture of smells was emanating from the deep sunken bathing pool of water in the centre of the rose marble building.
Mariah’s eyes were glowing with pleasure as she turned to look at him. ‘I believe it is a natural hot spring!’
That was exactly what it appeared to be. Darian knew that there were a dozen or more of these natural hot springs in England and that society made a point of flocking to them, usually during the summer months, in order to drink or bathe in what they considered to be the health-giving waters.
But he had never before seen or even heard of there being a private hot spring such as this one obviously was...
He shrugged. ‘We are close to Tunbridge Wells, so perhaps this is an offshoot of the one there?’
‘It is wonderful!’ Mariah drew off one of her gloves before stepping forward to crouch down and dip her fingers into the scented water. ‘And it is lovely and warm!’ she announced excitedly.
Darian was more than a little grateful for Mariah’s distraction with the sunken bathing pool, once his gaze had skimmed over the rest of the interior of the marble building.
There were half a dozen tall candleholders about the cavernous room, fresh candles in them, no doubt in preparation for this evening’s entertainments. And a dozen or more slightly raised platforms, each littered with sumptuous and brightly coloured silk cushions.
Darian gave a grimace, his gaze moving swiftly on, as he easily guessed the purpose for those.
The two-foot-high frieze on the walls was a plethora of painted scenes of the mythical gods engaged in acts of debauchery with man, woman and beast, as was the domed ceiling above them. But it was the five statues placed about the side of the pool that now caused him to draw his breath in sharply.
Each and every one of them was of Aphrodite, in all her naked glory, engaged in a variety of sexual acts so explicit that no imagination was necessary and causing Darian’s mouth to set grimly.
It was so typical of the Nicholses that they had taken a thing of beauty and turned it into yet another scene for their own very questionable sexual tastes.
‘Have you ever seen anything like it before, Darian?’ Mariah was totally enthralled by the pool, her expression enrapt, as she moved her bare fingers backwards and forwards in the warmth of the water.
With its dozen or so steps down into the water it reminded Mariah of a painting she had once seen, of Queen Cleopatra bathing in such a pool filled with the ass’s milk reputed to have preserved her wondrous beauty.
‘No, I cannot say I have ever seen anything quite like this before,’ Darian answered coolly.
She turned to look at him quizzically, noting the emerald glitter of his eyes and the slight flush to his cheeks, caused by the warmth of the temple. His mouth was pressed into a thin, uncompromising line. She straightened slowly. ‘What is it?’
A nerve pulsed in his tightly clenched jaw. ‘We should leave! And continue with our walk,’ he added tersely as she looked confused by his vehemence.
Mariah blinked at the harshness of his tone. ‘But it is so cosy and warm in here, and surely the perfect place for us to escape the company of the other guests until luncheon.’ She had thought Darian had desired to be alone with her just a short time ago.
His shoulders were tensed beneath his perfectly tailored dark green superfine. ‘I agree that the bathing pool is of interest.’
‘But?’
He sighed his impatience. ‘But the rest of the temple is far less so.’
Mariah had been so enthralled, so enchanted, at the discovery of the beautiful sunken pool that