The Dowager Countess (The Saga of Wolfbridge Manor Book 2)

by Sahara Kelly

  “Gabriel,” she whispered. “Yes…oh yes…”

  He must have felt her quivering, for he took over, moving on his own to those places that made her whimper.

  Gripping the sides of the tub, Gwyneth's hips lifted toward that hand, those fingers. And with a shattering choking cry, she broke, plunging off the cliff of ecstasy into the first release she’d had in more years than she could remember.

  Great spasms rocked her and her thighs clenched tight, holding Gabriel’s fingers right where they were. Every muscle, no matter how weak, tightened as she rode out the wave of magnificent pleasure.

  And finally slumped down into the cooling water.

  “That was so…beautiful,” breathed Gabriel. “I had no idea…”

  She turned her head lazily, opened her eyes and looked at the awe on his face. “Thank you, I believe that was something my body needed.” She blinked at him. “Have you never helped a woman attain her peak in this manner?”

  “I’ve never had a woman before. So no, I didn’t know it would be anything like this.”

  She took a few moments to absorb the implications of that statement. “So…you’re a virgin?” How was that possible?

  He looked away and applied his energies to washing her legs and feet. “Only as far as women are concerned.”

  “Oh.” As explanations went, it was minimal. But the point was clear. Gwyneth understood exactly what he was talking about. “But you didn’t find this distasteful?”

  “How could I?” He glanced up at her, his eyes wide. “It was the most beautiful thing to watch.”

  “You do realise that the same thing can happen with another part of a man’s anatomy,” she commented.

  He looked amused. “I may not have had a woman, Lady Gwyneth, but I understand the process quite well.”

  “So it’s a matter of choice? Your choice?”

  He sighed. “It’s…I suppose it is true to say the matter is somewhat complicated.”

  She sighed too. “It always is.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Candlelight shone bright as Lady Gwyneth progressed slowly down the main stairs at Wolfbridge Manor.

  “A lovely hall,” she commented, her eyes roaming over the tall ceiling, the tasteful wood panelling, and the statues, paintings and other decorations that had drifted to the walls over the centuries.

  “The Manor does have a certain appeal,” answered Giles.

  She had her arm linked through his, but was doing her best not to lean on him. After her bath, her restorative nap, and actually dressing in a simple chemise and robe—not traditional evening garb, but a step up from her nightgown—Gwyneth felt alive and aware, for the first time in longer than she could recall. Kilham Abbey was a blur, her late husband’s face difficult to summon, and her time at the Dower House an unpleasant memory she pushed aside.

  Now, here, in Wolfbridge Manor, she was returning to life, to a new home and the people in it. The light from a doorway beckoned, and every step seemed to add a little more strength to her spine. Seeing the gentlemen already there waiting for her…it was a moment to relish. And cherish.

  Their faces showed their pleasure at her presence downstairs with them, and that alone made her straighten her spine and raise her chin before returning their smiles. Gabriel moved forward, beaming, his delight obvious.

  “Dinner is ready, my Lady,” he bowed. “You’re not quite up to sherry yet, so we anticipated your arrival, toasted your health and we may dine immediately.”

  “Excellent.” Giles nodded and led her to the dining room. “At last,” he said. “The Lady of Wolfbridge takes her seat.” He seated her at the head of the table as the others stood, waiting for her to settle.

  “It is good to see you recovered, my Lady,” said Jeremy as he poured wine.

  “And on Easter Sunday too,” remarked Royce, his eyes watchful. “There must be some parallel with the Resurrection, but I’m not sure what it might be.”

  Giles rolled his eyes. “Lady Gwyneth, I trust you can excuse these jokesters. Since we are small in number, Evan will carve, and the rest of the time we make do with each other’s assistance.” He glanced down the table. “For example, Gabriel…please pass those potatoes.”

  Gwyneth nodded. “I am so pleased to be able to join you. And although I have some idea of the house and grounds, I confess I’m eager to understand and learn more about my new home.”

  “And I look forward to those conversations,” endorsed Giles. “There is much to understand, since we are different from most estates, not only in our founding principles, but in our structure and management.” He looked around. “And in the fact that we usually enjoy our meals together.”

  Gwyneth smiled at Evan as he offered her a plate of lamb.

  “Now I know it’s Easter,” she said, helping herself to a modest couple of slices. “And there will be mint sauce?”

  “Of course.” He looked around. “Jeremy. Leave some for the rest of us.”

  Jeremy shook his head. “Can’t. It is beyond delicious. I might replace my wine with this.” He gestured to the crystal decanter holding the liquid. Tiny green leaves flashed amidst the contents, and Gwyneth’s mouth watered at the remembered taste of the mint on her tongue.

  “Take your time, Ma’am,” cautioned Royce. “You have yet to recover your full strength, and your ability to digest many foods. You’re well on the road to your former health, but there will be the occasional bump along the way.”

  She nodded. “I do understand. Although that entire portion of my life seems more like a horrid nightmare than something that actually happened to me.” She cut a sliver of the lamb, dipped it in the mint sauce and ate, chewing slowly and with great relish.

  “Jeremy, you and Royce attended Easter services, this morning. Was all well?” Giles poured himself some wine and passed the bottle to Evan.

  “The church was full, of course,” replied Jeremy. “The sermon was just a few minutes short of being too long, and the children managed to fidget as silently as possible.” He grinned. “I felt for them. Those pews are hard.”

  Royce nodded in agreement. “They are. But I think that’s deliberate. Keeps the congregation awake, since it’s damned difficult to fall asleep when one’s…er…backside is slowly turning numb.”

  “There were enquiries, I suppose?” Giles shot him a quick glance.

  “Indeed there were,” answered Royce. “But I passed them on to Jeremy.”

  Jeremy grinned. “He did, too. But overall most people seemed pleased to know that the Lady of Wolfbridge was recovering well from her illness.” He turned to Gwyneth. “Your arrival occasioned great excitement and your health no little concern, my Lady. You must be aware that your position is held in high esteem hereabouts, so it is quite natural.”

  “We let it be known that you were suffering from an ailment when you arrived, but have managed to spread the word of your recovery.”

  “I see,” she said, taking a sip of water. She wasn’t entirely ready for wine yet. “So they do not know my identity?”

  Gabriel, who sat on her left, reached out and touched her hand gently. “As I understand it, Lady Gwyneth, everybody knows you as the Lady of Wolfbridge. To them, that is the be-all and end-all of their conversation.”

  “They really don’t care where you came from, it seems,” added Royce. “Very good-natured of ‘em, I’d say. But Gabriel’s right. To everyone around here you are their Lady.” His eyes turned to Giles. “Which begs the question of how to introduce her? Or present her? Or whatever it is you do to show her off to everyone as the Lady of the Manor?”

  To her surprise, Gwyneth burst out laughing, and the others stared at her in astonishment. “Forgive me, but that sounds so silly. Perhaps I should be put on a wagon and paraded around the estate.” She giggled. “There should be little girls in white and pink throwing rose petals before me, and I shall sit on a large chair covered with silk and beneath an arch filled with hyacinths…”

  “And mus
icians following, of course…a merry tune on fife and lute…” Jeremy teased.

  “Morris dancers?”

  “Wrong time of year,” said Evan, grinning as he responded to her suggestion. “That’s Whit Sunday, I think, and besides we don’t have any around Wolfbridge, as far as I know.”

  Giles joined the laughter, noted Gwyneth, but she sensed his mind was elsewhere. In this she was correct, as his next statement revealed.

  “Perhaps in the morning, if you’re not overtired, we should touch on some matters pertaining to this topic in a more fundamental manner.”

  “How do you mean, Giles?” She tilted her head to one side.

  “We need to prepare you now, as you regain your strength. There are many things you must be made aware of, and although a procession with small children and rose petals is not part of any Wolfbridge celebration I can think of, we might consider some sort of event to mark your debut, as it were.”

  She considered that. “I do feel it’s time for me to assume the mantle you have so kindly offered,” she said. “I can only hope I shall prove worthy of the name.”

  “All the Ladies I have known never failed to prove themselves, Ma’am,” Giles smiled. “And there have been quite a few.”

  “A solid history, then,” Gwyneth looked around her. “One wonders how many of your Ladies have sat in this very seat, enjoying such a conversation.”

  “A good point,” mused Evan. “And I believe that notion deserves something sweet while we ponder.”

  Jeremy grinned. “Ahhh. Excellent suggestion.” He rose to help Evan. “By the way, Trick and Jane were at church this morning.”

  “Oh, how are they? I must pay a visit soon.” Giles turned back to Gwyneth. “The estate neighbouring this one is known as Fivetrees and is currently owned by the Fairhurst family.”

  The name meant nothing to Gwyneth, so she merely looked interested.

  “Trick, a nickname for Trevallyn Jones, was one of our gentlemen until last year. There were some unpleasant happenings, and he had to leave us for a while, during which time he became close to Mrs Barnsley’s daughter Jane. They wed just before Christmas.”

  “And they are now working for the Fairhursts?” Gabriel chimed in. “I’ve heard the name, that’s about all.”

  “Not exactly working,” said Jeremy, returning to the table with a delicious-looking Simnel cake, complete with the traditional eleven balls of marzipan.

  Gwyneth’s mouth watered for the taste of the masterpiece Evan had created from fruits and almonds.

  “Trick and Jane have agreed to be caretakers of Fivetrees, which is currently available for purchase,” Jeremy finished his commentary and set out plates.

  “The current owner, Miss Judith Fairhurst—or I should say Lady Withersby, since she also married recently—has become my ward,” said Giles, accepting a piece of cake. “She resides in London with her husband; he has his own estates so she has no need to. or interest in, retaining Fivetrees. Her uncle, with whom she lived for a short while last year, died under mysterious circumstances, and the rest of the family washed their hands of it all.”

  Gabriel gave a dramatic groan as he ate. “This cake, Evan…” he paused and placed his hand over his heart. “The best Simnel cake I have ever tasted.”

  “I’m happy you like it,” grinned Evan. “I’ve always enjoyed making it. The scent alone reminds me that winter is on the way out and Spring lies ahead.”

  “One can only hope,” said Royce, who had been quietly listening to the conversation. “Giles, the unpleasant circumstances you mentioned in relation to Fivetrees…can you elaborate on that?”

  “Briefly. Some details should be omitted, I think. Not suitable for the dinner table.”

  “Very well, but I’d like to have an idea of what happened…”

  “Sir Amery Fairhurst was killed,” answered Giles, his voice level. “Poisoned in his own dining room.”

  Silence fell for a minute or two, and Gwyneth stared at her cake, trying to absorb that pronouncement.

  Gabriel recovered first. “Oh my God. By whom?”

  Giles sighed. “We do not yet know the identity of the poisoner. There was a deal of incorrect assumption at the time. Lady Adalyn was, in fact, present when it happened, as was Trick. Information was laid against him, and that’s what took him away for close to six months last year.” He ate a small piece of cake. “Thankfully, his name has been cleared, so he and Jane are free to mind Fivetrees for Judith.”

  “A relief indeed,” said Evan. “And I heard—from Mrs Barnsley, of course—that they might be giving us some happy news soon.”

  Jeremy’s face lit up. “Really? Oh how wonderful. And how we shall be able to rag Trick about impending fatherhood.”

  Gwyneth enjoyed the following responses, noting Giles’s amused grin, and Royce’s removed interest. He was listening—had been listening to every word. And Gwyneth would wager he’d remember who said what at exactly what moment. She could almost see his mind working to catalogue and store information, expressions, details…

  He caught her looking at him and dipped his head politely.

  She looked away and managed another small bite of cake. Delicious though it was, she knew she had reached her limit. Her back was starting to ache, her limbs felt exhausted and she wanted her bed.

  Evan noticed. “My Lady, I am pleased you enjoyed your meal, but I sense it has also tired you. It’s your first time up this long…may I suggest you retire soon?”

  Grateful for his observation, she nodded. “I am loath to leave, gentlemen, but I fear Evan is right. I am most content, well-fed—and beginning succumb to an annoying weakness.”

  Royce immediately rose, just before the others did the same. “Allow me, my Lady.” He walked to her side and picked her up from her chair without hesitation. “Time for you to return to your room. With your permission I will convey you to your bed?”

  His arms were firm, and his eyes pure blue as he stared at her. “You’re tired. Let go for now.”

  Unable to resist, she nodded. “Thank you, Royce.”

  “Go along, then, Royce. Settle her Ladyship.” Giles rose. “We will meet in the morning, Ma’am, when you are rested.”

  “I would like that, Giles,” she answered from the security of Royce’s arms. “I have questions.”

  “It is only to be expected,” he bowed. “I will answer them.”

  Royce glanced at Giles, saw the brief nod, and walked from the room, barely allowing Gwyneth time to call her thanks to Evan for a wonderful meal and bid the others goodnight.

  Gabriel looked a little lost, but did not hesitate to help Jeremy and Evan. These men really had formed a tightly knit group, she thought. Their courtesies to each other, their jests, their conversation…all spoke to the kind of friendship that helped and supported, rather than teased and discouraged.

  “You’ll have to do without your maid, tonight, my Lady,” grunted Royce as he carried her up the stairs.

  “I assume you’re referring to Gabriel?” Her eyebrow rose at him. “A fine gentleman who has been very kind to me. And since you mentioned it, why don’t I have my own maid?”

  “You’ll have to ask Giles that,” he answered shortly.

  Irritated, she frowned. “You can be sure I will.”

  He nodded, opened the door to her room with his shoulder, and carried her inside, walking to the bed and putting her down quite abruptly.

  She felt a flare of anger jump inside her. “Thank you. You may go now.”

  “No,” he said, standing in front of her. “Not until you’re in bed.”

  She raised her chin. “I can manage.”

  “Really?” His look said it all.

  Gritting her teeth, she glared back. “Yes.”

  “Show me,” he stepped back. “Stand up, then go and relieve yourself on your own.”

  She wanted to smack that smug look from his face. Gabriel had handled the necessities elegantly and with gracious concern. She’d needed hi
s assistance and was grateful for it long before she might have been embarrassed by it.

  But Royce turned it into a challenge, the bastard.

  The screen was in one corner of her room. Slowly, she stood, letting her legs take her weight. She was steadier than she thought, although the weakness and the weariness were still there in force.

  Holding on to the bed post she faced Royce. “You may leave,” she repeated.

  He walked to the chair by the bed and sat. “No,” he answered once more. “Show me you can manage by yourself and I will go.”

  Forcing her body upright, she let go of the bedpost, remembering that she could indeed walk by herself. Had she not done so earlier? She’d walked downstairs without a problem.

  Of course, she’d had Giles’s arm, and had just awoken from a nap, but still. Bravely she ignored Royce and took a couple of steps unaided. Encouraged, she took two more…and faltered.

  He was there in an instant, catching her up, lifting her off her feet and taking her to the screen. He put her down when they got there. “I will trust you to do what is necessary without my assistance, but I am not leaving until you’re tucked in. Get that through your head. Let me know when you’re done.”

  She heard him stalk away, and then she heard drawers opening and closing.

  It was a few moments before she could even consider relieving herself, but the need was there. And eventually it was done. More comfortable, but every bit as angry, she forced herself to call.

  “Royce.”

  He appeared, picked her up and carried her over to the bed, where a nightgown was now laid out. She’d forgotten she wore a robe and chemise—she’d have to undress. Damn the man.

  “Yes, you will don your nightgown, my Lady. You might as well accept it, rather than staring at it. It won’t bite.”

  “You might, though,” she grumbled under her breath.

  “Only if you ask nicely.”

  Her breath snagged in her throat at his words, and she shot him a quick glance from the corners of her eyes. His face was hard, his expression intense…the look of a man who meant what he said and was quite willing to bite—and do other things too.