Free Cressida's Dilemma by Beverley Oakley Page B

though, truly, I thank you for your good advice.” Righteous indignation and purpose fueled her decisive nod as she pushed away Miss Mariah’s restraining hand to turn the doorknob, but it was the woman’s soft, suggestive words that proved too intriguing to resist.
    “It is not your husband’s heart that needs repossessing but his desire. Of course you are upset, my dear, but think a moment on the reasons you came here…of your fears and what I can teach you.” She put her hand on Cressida’s shoulder, then gently touched her cheek.
    The gesture of sympathy was almost more than Cressida could bear, but she had to leave before she succumbed to the fresh wave of self-pity that threatened to overcome her.
    “Don’t act with too much haste and undo all the good that’s come from your bravery tonight,” Miss Mariah said, rubbing Cressida’s shoulder, tucking an escaped tendril behind her ear. “I would be very happy if you would like to come back next Wednesday so I can tell you more about the many women like you who do not have extensive nurseries but who are equally dutiful wives. I can show you how to satisfy your husband without necessarily conceiving a child.”
    Cressida stilled. She felt her mouth drop open. This was the second time the woman had alluded to such a possibility, the first she’d said it in such direct words.
    “Satisfy my husband without conceiving a child.” She repeated the words, more as an incantation than questioning the assertion.
    Her friend gripped Cressida’s fingertips and gave a comforting squeeze. “That’s what women do when they’re not raised in fear and ignorance.”

Chapter Five
     
     
     
    She’d learned nothing, yet she’d learned too much to go home and meekly await Justin’s return. Excitement thrummed through Cressida’s veins as she stepped out of Miss Mariah’s sitting room and into the dimly lit corridor, lowering her head as two passers-by approached. A smirking young man was holding up a woman old enough to be his mother, whose drunken laughter and unsteady gait sent them on a trajectory that required Cressida to press herself against the wall for fear of being bowled over.
    Lord, she thought, panic gripping her as she touched her thick veil for reassurance, ducking into an alcove to tidy her hair so it was completely concealed by the ugly bonnet. What would Justin say if he discovered her in such a place? His faith in her constancy as a pliant, loving wife would be rocked to the core. Could he even look at her in the same way, knowing what she must have seen simply by coming here?
    Yet she’d gained so much. And soon, she’d gain so much more. In a few days’ time, she’d have all the knowledge she needed to remind Justin of the glorious days when they’d reveled in their newly wedded bliss.
    Entering through a doorway at the end of the corridor, she tried to concentrate on the hope she now embraced rather than the guilt and shame that would stifle her if she let it. She must put it out of her mind. Never hint to Justin what she’d seen—
    With sudden disorientation, she realized that what she’d believed to be the hallway was instead another private sitting room, cozily furnished with a fire crackling in the grate. In the far corner was a desk lit by an Argand lamp, at which sat a gentleman bent over a document he was reading. His frown indicated the deepest concentration, his left hand thrumming his knee, his right foot tapping as if he was agitated. Like everyone else here this evening, he was dressed in masquerade, a demi-mask half covering his face that he must have forgotten to remove, considering no one else occupied the room. The pristine spill of his cravat was the only relief to his austere clothing, which was cut to perfection and which clung to him…
    In the most heart-stopping way.
    Heart-stopping because this was just how Justin had affected Cressida the very first time she had met him, when he’d bent to kiss her hand as he’d