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

by Sahara Kelly

  My experiences have not been far reaching, but even I can tell when a man might not be interested in women. I thought at first this could be the case with Gabriel. He is far too beautiful for his gender, and seems warmly affectionate to the others, who return those sentiments quite naturally.

  But apparently, since he has become familiar with my body during my recovery, he is expressing a deal more than friendly interest in my womanly self. I find it marvellous, amazing…it is as if I am discovering myself through his eyes. He’s not shy about admitting to his virginity. He’s never had a woman, and isn’t ashamed to tell me so. But his gaze, when he bathes me, his fascination with my body…and the evidence such sights have on his own responses…all very gratifying. Should he decide to cast aside his innocence with me, I have no doubt I will be thoroughly satisfied by the event. Gabriel appears to be well-equipped to bring a woman pleasure.

  As do they all.

  And therein lies a problem I find to be more and more difficult to solve. Which man should I consider as a bedmate? Will the others be jealous if I choose just one? How could I manage were I to want two?

  And when did these wanton thoughts appear in my mind, to not only plague me when I wake alone at night, but also to arouse and intrigue me? I have never been unduly interested in the physical side of love. My first time was magical, but now I have to be honest and admit there was some discomfort. Only the fact that Michael was the one to take my virginity made it tenable. I loved him so very much that anything we did together was wonderful. He was the magic rather than the deed itself.

  If matters had turned out differently, would it have become an act I looked forward to?

  I’ll never know. Instead my experience moved to the Earl, who was fairly gentle, and took pains not to hurt me. He was a considerate man, but never seemed to know that I could achieve satisfaction as well as he. I cannot and will not complain about him as a husband, since I hoped for no more than I received.

  I miss him sometimes…not his physical presence, but the security I felt when he was alive. Nobody dared touch or insult or act inappropriately with the Countess, not while her husband still lived. All that was ripped away, and I cannot deny it has left a scar.

  Perhaps it is that security that I am re-discovering here at Wolfbridge. I cannot imagine anyone being inappropriate with my gentlemen nearby.

  Whatever the case, whether it be security or just simple affection, I am finding both - and more - here at the Manor and in the capable hands of my gentlemen, as they proved last night.

  I awoke this morning, barely half an hour ago, to the most delightful lassitude. I found myself in a light nightgown, sprawled across my bed in a manner unusual for me…a person who generally tucks herself beneath the covers quite tightly. But today my legs were bare, my arms outspread, and my body still felt soft, sleek and relaxed after last night’s games in our pond.

  I should describe it, but I’m not sure if my vocabulary contains sufficient adjectives to do it justice.

  Suffice it to say that being passionately and sensually caressed by four men, four sets of hands, four mouths, four tongues, resulting in a release of magnificent proportions under a night sky…well, I heartily recommend it.

  And even as I write, I grow hot, needy, my muscles are twitching and my belly roils with desire. I want…I want my gentlemen naked with me, taking me, claiming me, pushing me to that peak and throwing me into the maelstrom. They are the ones to do it; they have the skills and seem willing enough to play such games with me. As to the awakening of this need within me? I am astonished, shocked and forced to wonder if it has always been there, lying dormant, waiting for the right touches to arouse it. For it certainly gives me pleasure and excitement in equal parts. As do my gentlemen.

  I must nurture and grow my relationship with them all, and to do so I must take them to my bed. Which returns me to the question of who and when.

  Perhaps tonight.

  Perhaps all of them at once, although how that would possibly work I cannot envision. But I must choose at least one. I must begin to be the real Lady of Wolfbridge, because I have a feeling that such interactions will bind my gentlemen to me a great deal more than just the words written on a page, or their promises to Giles.

  Once they lie with me, they are truly of my Wolfbridge, no other Lady’s. So today I am determined to speak with Giles, to try and hold a neutral and acceptable conversation with him about it, and solicit his counsel. He has been through this with enough Ladies to fully understand, I’m sure.

  For him it is probably a routine matter, even though for me it is far different.

  On reading over these few paragraphs I have surprised and shocked myself. I let my thoughts run directly to my pen, writing the words that were uppermost in my mind without consideration of content or discretion. I cannot believe I am a loose or perverted woman, nor do I possess whorish tendencies. Many who read my words might think so and condemn me for it. But they have not walked in my shoes, suffered what I have suffered, and been touched the way I have been touched.

  They have not felt the agony of loss, the terror of starvation - or beautifully gentle caresses given with care and affection. They would not know how strong and powerful such caresses can be to a woman who has experienced the first two.

  They would not understand my desire to enjoy all my gentlemen to the fullest, and thus would be horrified and disgusted at my stated intentions.

  So be it. I do hope nobody like that ever reads this journal.

  *~~*~~*

  “Good morning, Giles,” said Gwyneth as he walked in for breakfast. “I trust you slept well?”

  “Thank you, yes. I passed a fair night.”

  “I would beg a few moments of your time after breakfast, if I may.” She looked at him calmly, and yet he sensed a certain hesitancy in her words.

  “Of course, my Lady. I will be only too happy to share some time with you.” He poured himself some tea as Evan came in with another tray, this one filled with scones. The smell tempted both himself and Gwyneth. “A scone?”

  “Yes please,” she grinned. “I couldn’t possibly say no to that wonderful aroma.”

  Jeremy, Royce and Gabriel were already there, the debris of their meal scattered in front of them

  The conversation turned general, including comments on yesterday’s successful event, some good-natured jests about burned noses and sore shoulders, and an outline of what was planned for the day.

  “Mrs Barnsley asked about the Whit Sunday fête,” said Jeremy. “I told her we’d yet to discuss it, but she pointed out—quite accurately—that it is not far off and we should probably…er…”

  Evan chuckled. “If I know her, she suggested we get off our arses and start planning.” He glanced wryly at Gwyneth. “Excuse my blunt language, my Lady.”

  “I’ve heard worse,” she smiled back. “And I suppose she is correct. Is there a traditional event that happens at Wolfbridge around that time?”

  Giles nodded. “There used to be activities every day of Whitsuntide, I understand. But a whole week away from the fields proved to be too much of a challenge, so about ten years ago it was winnowed down to a fête and dance after church, along with activities and parties for the children.”

  “And we hold the fête and the dance?” Gwyneth’s eyes widened. “How many are we talking about?”

  Giles held up his hand. “No, not the dance. Just the fête.”

  “Ah,” she nodded. “That makes sense.”

  “It’s usually fun,” said Evan. “Last year we were rained out, but the year before I judged the pie contest. Each of us does what we can…Jeremy handled the bowling…”

  “And I think we can do that again if the good weather holds. The oak field is still pretty flat. I will look it over and see if it needs any rolling,” he commented.

  “Daniel and Trick gave pony rides to the children,” said Giles. “We could possibly pass that to Royce?”

  “If he promises not to scare ‘em,�
�� chuckled Jeremy.

  Royce ignored him. “Very well. Horses or donkeys?”

  “Do we have donkeys?” Gwyneth blinked.

  “No, my Lady,” answered Royce. “But some of the farmers do. I’m sure we could borrow a couple. It’s a little easier for the children to sit atop a donkey. Not quite so intimidating as a fifteen-hand hunter.”

  “And the rest of the activities come from various members of the estate. I think Mr Smart had a darts board set up last time…” Giles frowned.

  “He did,” said Evan. “I won a cake.”

  Everyone laughed at his dry comment.

  “Very well then,” said Gwyneth. “We must indeed begin our planning. And it should start with someone telling me what I need to do…”

  Silence fell for a moment or two, then Royce put down his teacup and looked at Giles. “I’m not sure if this would work, but what if we ask Lady Gwyneth to choose a theme? Something the children could dress up for?”

  Giles blinked. “Hmm.” He pursed his lips, lost in thought for a few moments. “You know, that might work.” He glanced at Gwyneth. “Any thoughts, my Lady?”

  “Well.” She stared out the window for a moment or two, and for some reason a vision of her gentlemen, her knights, popped into her head. “Would something like a Medieval joust work?”

  “Not if I have to ride in one,” retorted Jeremy, choking back a laugh.

  “No, no,” she laughed in turn. “I was thinking more along the lines of the Medieval festivals that went with the Joust. It would let our guests dress as nobles, the children can have wooden swords…I’m sure someone around here could make some…and, assuming the weather is as good as possible, all sorts of outdoor cooking, dancing perhaps…”

  Giles took some time to consider it.

  “Would it be practical?” He posed the question absently. “We could certainly have someone knock out some of those wooden frames for the tents, and the children could paint flags…” his mind roamed over the possibilities. “Knights and their Ladies…” he nodded. “Yes, I like it. And it will suit Wolfbridge, since its history goes back to at least that time period.”

  “We must have a standard,” offered Gabriel. “A flag to indicate our Lady is in residence.”

  Gwyneth laughed. “When am I ever not in residence, Gabriel?”

  “You never know,” he grinned. “But I still think it’s a good idea. There were a lot of flags back then, weren’t there?”

  Royce nodded. “I think you’re right.”

  “Visually it would work well,” Evan mused aloud. “The large lawn on our west side needs some scything, but it would be a good place to situate any cooking areas, and tents for whatever else we plan. I know we used other sites before, but something on a Medieval scale needs plenty of room.”

  Giles agreed. “It is settled then. We’ll let Mrs Barnsley know…”

  “I’ll do that,” said Gwyneth. “It’s past time I start visiting our tenants, and now I’m back to my full strength, I look forward to it.”

  “Almost back to full strength, Ma’am,” cautioned Giles. “You will not be able to spend a day wandering around the estate just yet. But a morning or two will be acceptable.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  *~~*~~*

  Laughter followed Gwyneth and Giles as they left the others and headed for his study.

  She walked silently, composing her words in her mind, since a difficult conversation lay ahead and she wanted to be prepared.

  He indicated a chair and she sat as he moved to his desk and picked up papers. “Now, my Lady. You had a matter to discuss, and I have received something for you. Which shall we broach first?”

  She took a breath. “Perhaps I should go first, since what I have to ask is of a…delicate nature and I’d rather get it out of the way.”

  He moved to a chair near hers and sat. “By all means, please go ahead.”

  “I am learning more each day, Giles, about the nature and the concept of Wolfbridge. It has certainly sustained me, healed me physically and offered me sanctuary.”

  “As it should,” he commented.

  “And…” she swallowed, then raised her chin, hoping her composure would hold. “And I understand, as you’ve mentioned before, that such solace need not be only from Wolfbridge itself, but also from the gentlemen who serve both the Manor and me.”

  “That is correct.”

  “So…how should that work?”

  Giles smiled a little. “Any way you want it to, my Lady.”

  She gritted her teeth. “Yes, but…do I ask? And how? And should I make it a private one-on-one request or over the dinner table?” She knew her cheeks were flushing, but the questions needed to be answered.

  He nodded, holding up his hand to calm her agitation. “There are several ways, my Lady. You can give me an indication of who you would prefer assist you to your chamber. You may indeed ask directly, if you so choose. You may suggest that any or all of the gentlemen join you for a brandy…” His face was unusually gentle as he looked at her. “It is all about your pleasure, my dear. There are no right ways or wrong ways. You are our Lady. All your gentlemen are pledged to serve you in whatever manner you may require.”

  She thought about it. “Well. That certainly makes it easier…”

  “We try,” he said with a smile. “Sometimes, if I notice something in your behaviour that might lead me to think you needed a certain kind of attention, I might recommend one of your gentlemen see to your needs. If you do not feel that is appropriate, then all you need to do is dismiss him.”

  “I shall take all these suggestions under advisement, Giles. Thank you.” She heaved a breath of relief now that her main concerns were out of the way. “So you say I have a letter?”

  He rose and went to his desk, a slight frown creasing his brow. “Yes, it’s here, Ma’am. There is no mark or indication of where it originated, no frank, nor signature. It puzzles me, since it is addressed to the Countess, not the Lady of Wolfbridge, which tells me it’s from a person who knows you, rather than the Manor…”

  He passed it to her.

  “I would deduce that it was hand-delivered somewhere and has found its way here.”

  It was not thick, and she broke the seal with a measure of confusion. “I have no idea who could have sent it,” she muttered, removing and unfolding a single page. Without thinking she read it aloud…

  To the Dowager Countess of Kilham,

  I know your darkest secret, even though your husband didn’t. Lieutenant Copley is no longer hidden in your past. I am quite willing to ensure this Information goes no further, but I shall require various sureties from yourself to guarantee such a thing.

  More instructions will follow.

  Her voice tapered off and her eyebrows rose in horror. “My God, Giles. It’s about…he knows about me.”

  He walked to her chair. “Easy now,” he put a hand on her shoulder. “May I see?”

  She trembled, a weakness she abhorred, but the shock of seeing a name she thought she’d buried in her past was too great to contain. “Please. Take it. I-I can’t—I don’t…he’s…he’s learned about something…something I thought long-buried.” She stuttered a little in shock as she passed the envelope and the letter to Giles, a measure of relief stemming her shivers as it left her hand. “What does he want, Giles? Money? This is blackmail, without a doubt.”

  “It is,” he answered, his voice calm—and cold. “And it will be handled as such. A crime perpetrated by the most vicious and unpleasant of criminals.”

  “What should we do?”

  “For now? There is little we can do. I shall make some quiet enquiries about it…” he gestured to the envelope, “and see if that leads us to anyone locally who might remember anything about its arrival.”

  She nodded. “All right.”

  “So if possible, set it aside for the moment?”

  “I cannot promise,” she said. “Giles, what he knows about me…it is from a time long before I
wed the Earl.”

  He looked at her. “My Lady, what happened years ago is of no matter. It is who you are now that counts above everything. Should you wish to share your experiences, I am always here to listen. But nobody at Wolfbridge is here to judge. And everyone has secrets in their pasts—we either deal with them or lay them to rest. They have no place in the Manor, the estate or the life we build for ourselves here. They are part of the darkness we try to rise above; the places we leave behind as we find the light within us. Do you understand?”

  She nodded, the tension in her heart easing. “Yes, Giles. Yes, I do.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Gwyneth spent the rest of that day wandering around Wolfbridge. The weather turned, bringing showers at first and then a steadier rain in the afternoon. It was good for the crops but hard on the nerves, and she felt more than a little frustrated as she stared out past the raindrops on the window of the Rose room.

  The grass was green, the leaves even greener, and the spring flowers hung heavily, weighted down by the moisture. Her heart hung heavily too, she realised. She had brought trouble with her to Wolfbridge.

  Her mind roamed over the disastrous letter; who on earth could know of this matter, and who would want to threaten her—and Wolfbridge—with it? She had no idea, but it crushed her, saddened her to know that the life she was beginning to embrace was now at risk.

  A tap on the door, and Jeremy poked his head in. “My Lady? Can I do anything for you?”

  Obeying an instinct, she nodded. “Yes.”

  He slipped in, closed the door and walked quickly to her side. “What is it? You’re troubled, I can see it in your eyes.”

  She nodded. “Would you mind holding me for a little while?”

  He said not a word but stepped behind her, opened his arms and pulled her close until her back lay snug against his chest. Wrapping his arms around her, he hugged, firmly, warmly, and she felt a kiss on the top of her head.