The Private Affairs Of Lady Jane Fielding (The Regency Diaries, #3)

Chapter 1

Tuesday 1st June 1813

Fielding Place, Berkshire, England

There is one fact I cannot hide nor deny. I have borne my husband no sons.

It is a sad thing indeed for a family such as ours. Fielding Place needs an heir and daughters will not do. Of daughters we have no shortage — two healthy and biddable girls, who I shall state bring us much joy. Alas the demands of Fielding lineage and heredity command not joy, but a son and it is a tragedy indeed that my husband, since his accident, cannot provide our family with one, or any child it seems.

I write this journal of our affairs in secret, for there is no one else with whom I can confide. Jacob has ever been my confidante, but now, a year since his accident, I have found myself unable to speak of the more private matters as we were once accustomed to do. Yet my desire for an understanding ear with whom to disclose my fears burns fiercely within me. Especially now, since Jacob has formulated a plan.

This summer I shall have been married to Lord Jacob Fielding, Baron of Fielding, for near five years. I verily believe I was blessed in my father’s selection of my husband, for mine is, and ever shall be, a love match. Of course, it cannot be overstated that our marriage has been most beneficial in both financial and social aspects, but for these things I care little. Jacob is honourable, charming, pleasing to the eye and dotes upon me shamelessly. So it is with such dismay that I write about something that has turned our blessed union to a grave disappointment.

***

My husband is an avid horseman. Few could cut a more dashing picture astride a stallion than Jacob. He is an expert huntsman and falconer, and often I ride alongside him, unladylike though it may be. If there is one thing for which I shall ever be grateful, it is that Jacob indulges me in such things as, I assure you, I indulge him.

It can be no surprise then that it was an accident of the equestrian sort from which all our troubles grew.

It was, as I have stated, over a year ago now, though the memory remains as fresh in my mind today as it was then. Often times, in the still of night, I hear the echo of my mare’s whinnies of alarm and my husband’s bellows of anguish.

The ill-fated date was the 19th of June, 1812, a Saturday, when disaster struck. We were riding aside the pretty brook that runs along the boundary of Fielding land. I rode my mare, such a gentle, sweet thing who followed Jacob’s stallion with the curiosity only a young mare shows. Alas, when my husband and his horse jumped across a small overflowing tributary, my mare failed to do the same. She balked at the rush of water. Though it was but shallow, the weed-slicked stones caused her to slip, sending me over and her crashing to the ground.

The next thing I knew was Jacob’s arms around me, hauling me bodily from the burbling brook. The water was cold and the side of my face, leg and arm were bruised, but thankfully I was otherwise unharmed.

‘My dearest,’ he murmured, his warm hands running over my face, tucking the dripping tendrils of hair from my eyes. ‘Are you hurt?’ His tone was intense but his glittering eyes even more so.

I shook my head, though I wanted to weep and fall into his arms and have him kiss me. He was so unutterably lovely when concerned.

As if my wish had willed him, Jacob’s head dipped towards me and I stretched upwards to brush against his lips. As I did, my mare’s frantic whinny shrieked behind us. Jacob turned, releasing me from his embrace. He glanced at me regretfully and moved towards the mare.

‘Lolly,’ he hushed, but her eyes rolled as he came forward. ‘Shh,’ he urged.

Lolly whinnied again; she was shaking like a leaf in a storm. I turned to check upon Jacob’s stallion who stood not far away, watching the scene as if bored by it.

‘Be careful, Jacob,’ I warned him. Horses, even those as beloved as Lolly, could be unruly and unpredictable at the best of times, but especially when hurt.

‘She’s lost a shoe,’ Jacob replied, walking beside the shaking horse to observe her rear left leg. He ran a hand down her side and she shuddered against him. ‘Damnable thing,’ he muttered, ‘it’s nearly completely off.’

I shivered in my soaked clothing. ‘At least she’s not harmed. I’ll walk her back to the stables,’ I said, and stepped towards them.

‘You’ll do no such thing, you’re bloody frozen,’ Jacob retorted, his hungry eyes devouring the wet cloth of my riding habit as it clung to the cleft of my thighs. ‘I’ll help you mount Faust there, he’ll get you home, mark my words.’ He stroked Lolly again. ‘I’ll get this silly girl back while you tell the maids to draw us a bath. I’ve a mind to have you tonight.’

His words made me blush, but I delighted in it. We both most desperately wanted a son, and relished in the making of one. ‘You have a silken tongue, Jacob,’ I chided him, and sashayed a little closer.

‘Ah, but you love my tongue, Jane. Don’t you?’ he whispered, and kissed my neck. His lips were hot against my chilled skin. ‘You like my tongue, for more than silken pretty words, do you not?’

‘I’ll not deny it,’ I breathed.

‘You like my tongue betwixt your thighs, don’t you?’

‘No,’ I whispered, his tongue gliding down my décolletage to kiss the swell of my bosom. My breath caught in my throat.

‘No?’ He raised an eyebrow, his face a mask of sensually amused masculinity.

‘No,’ I replied brazenly, ‘I adore it.’

Jacob released a roar of laughter and picked me up, spinning me around and kissing me heartily on the lips.

Crushed against him, my loins wetted and my heart strained beneath my stays. I loved this man and I so desperately wanted him between my legs. ‘Mayhap you would have me here?’ I gestured to the mossy banks of the brook.

He laughed wickedly, his eyes dancing. ‘Don’t tempt me wench,’ he muttered, ‘or I may just do it.’

Though I still shivered with cold, I shivered also from pure need. Involuntarily I found my hands grasping and hauling my wet skirts up over my ankles and knees. ‘Do it,’ I urged.

Jacob’s growl of hunger made me gasp. He stalked towards me his hands pushing my heavy skirts high, until he found my sex, wet, open and unencumbered by drawers.

‘Wicked woman,’ he whispered and kissed me with breathtaking ferocity. His fingers slipped between the soaking walls of my sex and I found myself grinding against him, wanting more of him than what he offered now.

‘Please,’ I keened.

Alas, my cries must have upset Lolly further and she shrieked, her partially shod hoof clacking on the river-stones.

Jacob pulled away and threw a cautious gaze at Lolly whose eyes still rolled in fear.

His fingers slipped from my sex, and I was suddenly empty, bereft and frustrated. He grinned at me, his white teeth shining in the dappled light of the woods, and picked me up, striding purposefully towards Faust, onto whom I reluctantly clambered.

‘And that’s enough for you, wench.’

I laughed. ‘Never.’

I did so love his wicked tongue.

‘Off home, woman, I shall be with you shortly.’ He smiled. ‘When I return I expect you naked and spreadeagled on our bed. You’re an accursed tease, I’ve a mind to punish you for it.’

I looked down and saw his cock straining gallantly against his semi-sodden breeches. The sight of it sent a thrill through me, and I laughed. ‘Mayhap it is you who is the tease,’ I quipped. ‘Displaying your grandeur at such a time, Lord, I could quite lose my head.’

Jacob’s eyes darkened with passion, ‘And so shall I if you do not leave me now.’

Lolly whinnied in distress as if to remark on the point.

‘Until the bedroom, Jacob. I will be breathlessly waiting for you there.’

His arched lip curved wickedly and he inclined his head just slightly before giving Faust a slap on the rump to send us on our way.

I arrived back at the house in good time, though chilled to the bones. My maid emitted a squawk of alarm as I hurried inside.

‘Milady!’ Esther cried, her Scottish accent more pronounced in her angst. ‘Are you well? What has happened? Och! Look at your wee face! Where is Milord?’

I smiled at her. ‘Worry not, dear Esther. I am well; a slight fall and a bruise. There is nothing to cause concern. Lord Fielding is walking Lolly home and I am under strict instructions to have a hot bath drawn for us both.’

Esther’s concern turned to reddened embarrassment. She knew well enough the amorous and affectionate nature of our marriage to understand my inference.

‘Yes, well, hot bath it is, Milady. If you’d be so kind as to allow me to get rid of those wet clothes…’ She tutted and fussed, roaring orders at the lower maids to draw the baths, all the while ushering me upstairs to my rooms.

My bath was a glorious