If ever two were one, then surely we.
If ever man were lov’d by wife, then thee;
If ever wife was happy in a man,
Compare with me ye women if you can.
Anne Bradstreet, 1612—1672
Three months later
Wren read the society page of the Times of London to Drew over breakfast: “‘The sixteenth Marquess of Templeston presented his lovely marchioness at court on Friday last after a grand reception to celebrate their nuptials. The marquess and marchioness were married by special license by the archbishop of Canterbury at the marquess’s county seat of Swanslea Park in Northamptonshire.
“‘The bride wore a gown of black velvet for her presentation at court as the family is mourning the death of the current marquess’s father, the fifteenth Marquess of Templeston.
“‘The groom wore formal court dress, including brocade knee breeches, buckle shoes, and stockings embroidered with a love poem for his wife. Stockings patterned after the marquess’s have become all the rage at court, with some men even going so far as to embroider their own.
“‘His Royal Highness the Prince Regent is said to be quite enamored of the style.
“‘As a wedding gift to his bride, the marquess has donated several thousand pounds to the Royal Society for the Preservation of Flora and Fauna Native to Britain and provided the funds to renovate and rename a wing of the British Museum to honor Lady Templeston’s late father, renowned naturalist Sir Wesley Markinson, and her late husband, the preeminent animal anatomist, Bertrand Stafford. The renovated Markinson-Stafford wing of the museum will be opened to the public early next autumn in order to coincide with the publication of the complete works of Flora and Fauna Native to Britain begun by Lady Templeston’s father and completed by Lady Templeston.’”
“Good morning, Mama!”
Wren set the paper aside. She waved as Kit rode past the terrace on Lancelot, followed close behind by Ally on a gelding named Porthos. Wren smiled at her husband. “I can’t thank you enough for the museum wing honoring Papa and Bertrand.”
“I’d do just about anything to get those damned butterfly and bird carcasses out of the cottage.” He shuddered. “I don’t mind the live menagerie, but facing the dead ones nearly every afternoon…”
“And I can’t believe you wore your embroidered stockings to court.”
“You dare.”
“Mine weren’t visible.”
“Thank goodness.”
Wren shook her head. “I still can’t believe I agreed to such a ridiculous wager. Or that I lost.”
Drew leered at her. “I wouldn’t say lost. Think of the fun we’ll have afterward.”
“Think of all the scandal it will cause if someone else sees me.”
He laughed. “What good is having a married mistress if I can’t arrange a lusty spectacle on occasion?”
“Drew, I’m serious. If the new rector sees me, I’m sunk.”
“If the new rector sees you, he’s dead,” Drew promised. “So we’ll just have to arrange your Lady Godiva ride very early in the morning or bar everyone except me from the estate and the village.”
“How do we accomplish that?”
“We give them all a Saturday off and coin to spend at the market fair in the next village.”
“You would go to the trouble and expense of buying them off just to watch me ride naked across the estate?”
“My love, I would buy off the whole of England for the privilege of seeing my fantasies come to life.”
“Let’s hope that won’t be necessary.” She giggled. “I’ve an entire month of fantasies to fulfill.” She leaned close enough to brush her chest against his arm. “We have a huge house with dozens of rooms. Surely you can find something for me to do indoors on occasion?”
Drew frowned, pretending to weigh the matter. “I’ll try,” he said. “But indoors seems entirely too tame for a marchioness who paints erotic scenes on her stockings to entice me and who likes to pretend she was once a notorious mistress.”
She closed the distance between them in order to kiss him. “You, Lord Templeston, are a complete and utter rogue.”
“And you, Lady Templeston, will forever be the mistress of my heart and the love of my life.”
The End
* * *
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Once a Mistress Page 38