Page 61 of The Unforgiven
“Do people do this often?”
“They do it all the time. And it gets better and better. You’ll see.”
Madeline felt a warm glow in her belly. George was pleased with her and they would do this again, and as long as it didn’t cause problems with her future husband, she was more than happy to oblige. Nothing had ever felt as wonderful as having George inside her and knowing he loved her and she’d made him happy.
“Go in the water and wash off the blood,” he instructed. “You don’t want Cissy seeing blood on your bloomers.”
Madeline did as she was told and then allowed George to help her dress.
He kissed her again, very tenderly. “Say you’ll always love me, Maddy.”
“Always, George.”
“That’s my girl.”
THIRTY-TWO
The next few months were the happiest Madeline had ever known. With Amelia away, she took on the role of the lady of the house. George treated her as if she were his wife, and even Sybil’s attitude toward her had thawed, finally allowing Madeline to forge a fragile friendship with her grandmother. They spent hours sewing or reading in the parlor and even entertained guests, who came more frequently since Amelia’s departure. Mr. and Mrs. Clinton called several times, as well as Mr. and Mrs. Roberts, and Mrs. Montlake came for tea with Gilbert every other week. Gilbert had lost some of his reserve and spoke to Madeline of horses, which he loved, and the family business. He was being groomed to take over for his father when the time came, and found he enjoyed the challenges and rewards of running a plantation.
Preston Montlake had recently taken Gilbert along on a trip to New York to visit the Monroe Mills, and Gilbert was full of stories about life in the North. What seemed to have impressed him most was the cold, and the glorious foliage of Upstate New York as autumn swept over the mountains and valleys, painting the landscape in crimson, gold, and burnished orange. Gilbert was wise enough, or maybe too cowardly, not to engage Madeline in political discussions, and their conversations remained easy and light. He was a pleasant enough young man who seemed to genuinely enjoy her company. Madeline thought George might resent the time she spent with Gilbert, but he didn’t seem to mind in the least.
“It’s only natural that young men will be interested in you, Maddy,” he said. “Gilbert is a family friend and you should be kind to him. Take him for a walk in the garden, or play a card game. You need friends who are closer to your own age.”
“But I want to be with you,” Madeline replied as George nibbled her earlobe.
“Youarewith me, but we can’t make our feelings for each other public. Not yet.”
“George, what will happen when Amelia returns?” she asked with trepidation. The question had permeated her every waking moment since that day by the lake, making her sick with worry. She had tried to hide her insecurity from George, but she was sure he was aware of her fears and probably harbored some of his own.
He gazed down at Madeline, his head resting on his hand. He looked very serious, which didn’t happen often, so she braced herself for whatever he was about to tell her.
“Maddy, my relationship with Amelia is fractured beyond repair. We haven’t shared a bed in nearly a year, not since she found out she was pregnant again. As you saw yourself, she tried to leave without even saying goodbye. But she recently lost a child, and I won’t be cruel to her. She is my wife, and the woman who carried three of my children. In due course, I will obtain a divorce, but for now, you must be patient and keep your feelings for me to yourself.”
“What if Amelia doesn’t want a divorce?”
“Amelia has been gone for months. If I wished to file for divorce, I could cite abandonment as grounds for my petition, but there’s no rush. It will all work out. I promise. Now, come here,” George said and pulled Madeline toward him, his hand sliding between her legs. She opened up to him, but her thoughts lingered on their conversation. He meant to obtain a divorce. Did that mean he would marry her? Would this really be her life? And was it possible to retain this kind of happiness for long?
George came to Madeline’s room nearly every night and often stayed till morning, making love to her into the wee hours and sleeping next to her as if they were husband and wife. He encouraged her to tell him exactly what pleased her and what didn’t, and after a time, she let go of her inhibitions and began to explore his body freely and learn what brought him pleasure. He wasn’t shy about showing her what he enjoyed but never insisted she do anything she didn’t want to.
“George, was it like this with you and Amelia?” she asked, jealous of her rival. Amelia was never far from her thoughts, and Madeline alternated between feeling possessive of George and eating herself up with guilt. Amelia was her friend and didn’t deserve this, not even if she thought her marriage was at an end.
“It was in the beginning. We sailed to France for our wedding trip. We hardly left the cabin that first week,” George said with a wistful smile. “We were so happy.”
“Did Amelia know how to please you?”
“Not at first. I had to teach her, just as I’m teaching you.”
“And how did you know? Who taught you?” Madeline knew very little about this aspect of human nature since no one had ever mentioned this kind of intimacy in her presence. Now that she knew what took place behind closed doors, she regarded the people she knew through different eyes, wondering if they did the things she did with George, and whether they enjoyed it. Had her father shared his bed with Miss Cole? Did Mr. and Mrs. Clinton, who seemed so uptight, spend hours in bed taking turns pleasuring each other? It seemed highly unlikely, but Madeline realized appearances could be deceiving.
“There are places in New Orleans where men go, Maddy, where there are women who are paid for their favors. They like nothing more than an innocent young man to educate.”
“Do you mean a brothel?” Madeline asked, scandalized that George would admit such a thing to her. She’d only recently learned what a brothel was, and was still shocked that such places existed openly and that many married men went there regularly.
“Yes, a brothel. After my father died, Preston Montlake took me under his wing. He took me to an exclusive establishment that he frequents and paid for my education.”
“Did you not wish to remain pure for your wife?” Madeline could hardly fathom the idea of prim and respectable Mr. Montlake frequenting a brothel, and she couldn’t help wondering if Mrs.Montlake knew of her husband’s activities and turned a blind eye. Was that normal in a marriage?
George laughed softly and kissed the tip of her nose. “Believe me, Maddy, no woman wants a bumbling idiot in her bed, which is what I was my first time. A woman’s first experience defines the rest of her life, and I wanted to make it special and wonderful for my wife.”
