She placed her hands on his shoulders and studied his face carefully as she rocked against him.
The pleasure on his face mounted, and she loved every moment of it. The feeling it gave her, giving him that.
And just when she was certain she was about to feel her release again, his hips jerked against her, and she cried out.
They held on to each other for dear life as they both tumbled into bliss together.
Beatrice collapsed against his linen-clad chest, amazed. Amazed at how he trusted her and gave her power.
He wasn’t just her friend.
Will was so much more. Her world had grown by leaps and bounds in but a few days, and here in her office, the remarkable moment still pulsing between them, she could only imagine what new horizons awaited them.
Chapter Twenty-One
Beatrice put the final pin through her hat decorated with a single jaunty peacock feather, just as they were about to go to the Ladies’ League of Rights meeting.
She was thrilled that William wanted to attend with her, and he seemed positively intent on going to several meetings, to observe, take note, and listen as to how he might best assist.
She kept her composure. But only just. She was thrilled by his enthusiasm.
And she knew her friends were looking forward to seeing him again after he had stepped in so gamely, passing out pamphlets. His suggestion of a stage had been admired by the members. All the better to holler at passing parliamentarians.
At first, many of her associates had voiced concern that he would take her away from them and make a dutiful wife out of her. Instead, they had seen that instead of losing her, he was joining them.
Much rejoicing had occurred. None of them were foolish enough to turn their noses up at a duke who could further their endeavors exponentially.
But just as William raced down the wide stairs to meet her in the foyer, there was a loud pounding on the front door.
She turned to her beautifully dressed husband.
The pounding was not subtle.
He looked as astounded as she.
Forbes, almost ghostlike, swept in and swung the door open.
Margaret stood on the threshold, looking quite distressed. Her dark brown hair, usually perfectly curled, was wild about her face, and her cloak, too, was askew.
She stormed in without waiting for Forbes’s admittance and stumbled into Beatrice’s arms.
“Whatever is it, dearest?” Beatrice asked, alarmed, as she held up her cousin, who seemed on the verge of collapse.
“I cannot marry him,” Margaret declared, her voice strong for one so upset.
Beatrice and William exchanged a horrified glance. “Whatever do you mean, Maggie?”
“Please,” Maggie pulled back, her gaze urgent. “I need to speak to you. I’m so sorry, Blackheath. I admire you greatly, but I need to speak to Beatrice alone.”
William raised his hands, making no protest. “I completely understand. Everyone needs to have a confidante, Margaret, and I wouldn’t wish to invade upon your privacy. So please go with Beatrice, and I shall go to the Ladies’ League of Rights meeting on my own.”
Margaret let out a cry of dismay as she blinked. “I am so sorry. I did not mean to interrupt anything important.”
“No, no,” Beatrice said firmly. “You are important. This was just to be a regular meeting. You will be fine on your own, Will?”
He nodded. “I think that I shall be able to hold myself together.”
The members of the league could be formidable, but if anyone could negotiate their numbers, it was him.