She spent herself hard and fast, the crest of her pleasure overtaking her before she was aware she was even close. It left her gasping for breath, and Mark kissed his way back down her thighs as she recovered. Ellen threw herself back on the bed, fighting to breathe, and searched for his hand. She threaded her fingers in his and tugged him up to lie beside her.
They lay side by side for a moment, staring at the ceiling with their fingers interlaced, until Mark raised himself up on an elbow and leaned over her. He pulled one lace strap of her combination down and bared one breast. A sound rumbled deep in his chest, and he leaned over to nuzzle the underside of her breast. “Just as perfect as I remembered. Your nipples are the palest pink, a rosebud before blooming.”
Ellen tugged on his hair, pulling him back an inch. “I’m exhausted. I didn’t expect you to wear me out like that.”
Mark smirked. “We should do this more often.”
“We should.” Ellen felt like a cat stretching in sunlight, relaxed and content.
He leaned back down to capture a nipple in his mouth, but she tugged his head upward to give him a kiss instead.
“I just want to sleep.” Ellen wasn’t used to keeping society’s late hours, and neither was Mark, judging by his sleepy smile or the frequency and length of his blinking.
He tenderly kissed the tip of her nose. “I thought you wanted me to bite your breasts.”
“You can bite them tomorrow.” She rearranged herself, planting her head on her pillow, and beckoned him near her.
Mark looked suddenly uncertain and shy, but wordlessly lay beside her again, taking the second pillow. He leaned over and kissed her breastbone, between her breasts. Above her heart. Just like they used to, they rolled to their side. Mark spooned behind her, draping one arm over her hip.
“Oh!” Ellen half-raised her head off her pillow.Curse it, I’m turning into a selfish lover.“Can I, er, reciprocate?”
“Hmm?” Mark’s breath was hot against the nape of her neck.
Words were too much as sleep fell over her, so she reached behind her to stroke Mark to an erection. Mark leaned back, away from her, while placing a gentle kiss on the back of her neck. “Not tonight. This was about you. Just enjoy it and sleep.”
“Next time, wear your spectacles,” Ellen managed to say before falling asleep.
Chapter Fourteen
Three days later, Ellen told an abbreviated version of her last fortnight to Mrs. Daugherty and Amelia.
Mrs. Daugherty snorted into her cup of tea. “If that boy had written ‘my condolences,’ I hope you would’ve swum all the way to Bermuda and cut his throat.”
Amelia and Ellen burst into laughter.
“I was a sight, apparently,” Ellen admitted. “Ranting about how purple is the devil’s color and stomping on the flowers.”
Amelia patted her back. “Good for you. I wish that hadn’t happened at all, but I’m glad you got angry. You deserve better.”
Ellen had visited Constance’s grave that morning, like every Thursday. She’d considered inviting Mark, but shied away from it. Somehow it felt uncomfortable, like this was her spot and he might not understand. She’d spoken to her daughter about how Mark had made sure Constance would always be remembered by the two of them. Then, over her morning tea before patients came pouring in, she’d caught her colleagues up on her life. Amelia didn’t have much advice, but she let Ellen know if Mark hurt her again, she knew how to dismember a body and hide it in the Thames where it would never be found. Mrs. Daugherty was more circumspect, but still advised caution. “Love doesn’tcome often, so when it does you have to grab it by both hands and hold fast.” She paused. “But you also shouldn’t allow someone to run roughshod over you just because you love them.”
Ellen sighed. “How do I find that balance?”
But Mrs. Daugherty gave one of her infuriating, enigmatic smiles. The kind happily-married, older people gave to younger people still in the torment of unsure love.
A problem for tomorrow,Ellen decided.
“Are you ready to meet Mrs. Chisom?” Amelia asked, returning to business.
Ellen snorted. “Areyou?”
It would take about an hour’s walk to get from the dispensary to the Church of St. Barnabas. The two women briefly considered it, but then the thick, gray clouds covering the city opened and icy rain fell. They decided to take a hack.
Ellen watched the different neighborhoods of London pass by, all crammed against one another like a patchwork quilt. From the edge of the St. Giles rookery, they traveled across the edge of SoHo, full of theaters, restaurants, and cheap housing for European immigrants. Once past Piccadilly Circus, the hack maneuvered around private carriages in fashionable neighborhoods. Rain poured down the side of the white stucco terrace homes of Belgravia, where some of the wealthiest people in the country lived. When they finally arrived in respectable but not quite fashionable Pimlico, Amelia paid the driver and they hurried from the hack into the tall, gray stone church on the street corner.
The door silently opened, and Amelia and Ellen paused in the narthex, dripping water from their shoes and mackintoshes. Gaslight gave off a steady light, and Ellen peered around the entryway to find an office or wherever Mrs. Chisom was supposed to meet them.
Just as she spied a red door, it opened and the matron stepped forward with a welcoming smile. “Ah, Mrs. Glenfall. And Miss Hart.” She looked Amelia up and down. Though they hadexchanged notes, this was the first time they’d met. Ellen inwardly rolled her eyes at how Mrs. Chisom had addressed Amelia.