by Sahara Kelly
“That answers one of my questions. The other is in two parts and is for you, your Grace. Do you have any idea of what was behind Barrett’s anger toward you? And the ancillary query…who were those men in the dark jackets? You know, the efficient ones who seemed to vanish with Barrett and Streatford before we could say how-d’ye-do…”
Colly sighed and silently put his hand over Ivy’s as they sat together.
“To your first question, Mowbray, I don’t believe we’ll ever have an answer. Barrett’s mind doesn’t seem to work the way one might expect. Even when I was talking to him, about the most ordinary of topics, his responses weren’t…right. He seems to have spent a lot of time putting himself into the position of injured party and creating monsters who were responsible for his imagined persecution. The most important one was played in his mind by me.”
“So to him, eliminating you would put an end to his troubles?” Miles gazed at the Duke.
Who nodded. “I think so. It doesn’t make any sense at all to us, but then again, if we describe him as mad, then how can we expect it to?” He sighed. “It made sense to him. And of course that was all that mattered.”
“Did you know he had a hidden sword in that cane?” Mowbray slipped in another question.
“I did not,” replied Colly ruefully. “I should’ve thought of it. I should’ve thought of a lot of things, to be honest. It was a good plan, but there were flaws…”
“I think I heard Napoleon say that after Waterloo,” grinned Miles, making everyone laugh. “However, since we came out of it much better than he did, I’d judge the flaws to be few and minor.”
“True,” answered the Duke. “But I was so busy trying to work out how to avoid that sword, I never noticed Streatford pulling a pistol and aiming at me. It all happened so fast.”
Ivy shivered. “We were very lucky today. Thanks to our sharp-eyed Prudence.” She looked around. “That is not to say you all didn’t perform perfectly. Just knowing you were here, looking out for him”—she glanced at Colly—“it made a world of difference.”
“Indeed,” Prudence added. “I’m not sure I’d have done what I did without the knowledge that you all were ready to fire if needed.”
“I’ll wager you would have,” Lydia nodded her head at Prudence. “You were an honour to our gender, my dear. And I couldn’t be more proud.” She toasted the blushing girl with her teacup. “Your attack ruined his aim, thus ripping through Ivy’s bonnet instead.” She sipped her tea. “Fortunately, it was a tall sunbonnet.”
“Amen to that,” muttered Ivy.
At that moment, the door opened to admit Woodleigh bearing a large tray filled with brandy glasses. “If you’ll forgive me your Grace, I took it upon myself to assume that there might be toasts.” He passed through the room, handing out brandy. “It is indeed a time for great celebration, and with your permission the staff would be honoured to raise a glass to a successful day?”
“Of course, that would be an excellent notion, Woodleigh. Thank you and please pass on our gratitude to everyone below stairs for their well wishes.”
“And their fruit tarts.” Mowbray licked his lips. “Oh and are we invited for dinner? I am finding that all this excitement is giving me an appetite.”
Ivy raised her eyebrows at Woodleigh, who unbent far enough to smile back. “Cook has anticipated such an event, your Grace. All is in hand.”
“By God, Woodleigh,” Miles rose, his glass in his hand. “I do believe we should toast you.”
So they did.
And the rest of the day proceeded in much the same manner; outright hilarity, some pensive moments, and a fine dinner shared with friends.
At the end of it all, when Hartsmere House was quiet and the candles extinguished, Colly tapped on Ivy’s door.
“Come in,” she said, sitting tiredly on the edge of her bed. “Are you sure…” She shot him a worried glance.
He rolled his eyes. “Yes, love. Yes. I’m sure I’m all right.”
She couldn’t help the sigh that followed. “I was so very scared when I saw that sword appear. It was as if the world froze in that instant.”
He came to her and to her surprise, he put his arms around her and pulled her to her feet. “Ivy, when I heard the shot and you were right there in front of me, I swear my world froze as well.”
“It did?” She blinked.
“My world froze, my heart stopped and if I’d lost you at that moment, I would have died too.”
“Colly…” she whispered, wondering at his words.
“Don’t you know?” He leaned down and pressed tiny kisses to her cheek and lips. “Have you no idea how much you have come to mean to me?”
“No, I didn’t…you never…I…” Lost in the pleasure his mouth was stirring inside her, she stuttered.
He picked her up, swept through the doors into his room, and dropped her on the bed.
“I love you, Ivy.”
Her world spun. “You do?”
“I do,” he answered, tumbling on top of her. “And tonight, I’m going to show you just how much…”
His hands where everywhere, the heat of his skin searing hers before she even understood he’d removed her nightgown.
She gasped as his hands found her, and whimpered when they travelled a sensual path over her tender and ticklish places.
“Ivy,” he whispered against her breast. “Ivy, so silky and warm…”
He touched her with skill and erotic intent, finding all the spots that made her catch her breath, then teasing and toying with them until she was a writhing mess of desire beneath him. Her hips lifted, her neck arched and his talented fingers pushed her higher and higher until she shattered on a choked cry of pleasure.
But he wasn’t finished.
Barely had the spasms eased than he moved on top of her, pushing her legs wide apart and settling himself between them.
“Bend your legs, Ivy.”
Obediently she did, then understood that in so doing, she’d opened herself wide—and he was there, slowly sinking into her body, stretching her in a wonderful way that robbed her of thought.
She could only feel, every part of her focussed on the slide of velvet iron as he penetrated her as deeply as he could go.
Seated fully within, he stopped, looking down at her face, his eyelids heavy over glittering blue eyes, his cheeks flushed and his usually ordered hair hanging untidily around his face.
She couldn’t possibly love him more than she did at that moment.
“Colly,” she whispered, reaching a hand to his cheek. “Oh Colly. You feel wonderful inside me.” It was a brazen statement and she knew her face was heating with a blush, but the time for polite phrases was passed. This was a moment for truth between them. “I love you so much.”
He moved a little, and then gave her a wide grin. “Wait a few minutes my darling. You’ll love me even more…”
As she screamed out her release and found it echoed by his roar of satisfaction, she understood what he meant.
And later, when they were tumbled together, sated and damp from their passion, she chuckled.
“You were both right and wrong, you know.”
“I was?” He nuzzled her neck as he held her spooned against him.
“Yes. I did understand what the height of love could be. But do I love you more because of it? I don’t know. Because I’m not sure my heart can hold another drop of my feelings for you without bursting.”
“Well that will never do. I’d better hold it in place while you sleep.” He yawned and put his arm over her.
And that’s how his Grace the Duke of Maidenbrooke finally dozed off—with a hand full of his wife’s left breast.
His wife fell asleep too, comforted by his touch, and with a slight smile curving her lips.
Epilogue
In spite of the events of the previous afternoon, Miss Prudence Hartsmere-Drake’s birthday and garden party celebration went off without a single problem to mar the day.
&n
bsp; The guests arrived on time, were vociferous—and not a little envious—of the garden, and appeared to enjoy themselves, feasting on Cook’s amazing assortment of tasty delicacies. One guest was brave enough to descend to the kitchen and offer the astounded woman three times her current wages if she’d leave the Duke and come to work for her.
The Cook, slightly flabbergasted, refused with thanks, and then asked Woodleigh if he’d be so kind as to fetch her a brandy for medicinal purposes because she was about to faint.
The young lady herself was on her best behaviour and all who attended found her charming, with her pretty gown, her sweet deference and her exemplary manners.
Which translated into an ability to agree with anything anyone said to her, fetch and carry for the older members of the Ton who were in attendance, and curtsey with just the right degree of grace. She felt the weight of more than a few eyes and was aware enough to know those eyes belonged to mothers with eligible sons.
She mentally shrugged it off, and smiled and laughed as she tried to recall the names of some of the glorious flowers and finally gave up and snipped a few blooms for the most persistent, recommending they ask their own gardeners what they were.
She couldn’t help but note the glow surrounding her aunt and uncle.
They seldom strayed far from each other, and he never missed an opportunity to touch her; a hand on her shoulder, her arm through his, and once tucking a stray ribbon back in place amidst her curls.
It was lovely to see them enveloped in what seemed like a private glow of happiness, and Prudence spent a few moments counting her blessings.
“A pensive look, Miss Prudence. Is your fountain not to your liking then?” Sir Ronan strolled in, blinked at all the guests and quietly led her to one side. “And why is my garden filled with women dressed up to compete with the flowers and chattering like a flock of pigeons?”
Prudence couldn’t help a chuckle. “Because I invited them, Sir Ronan. ’Tis my birthday tomorrow and this is my gift…the garden, the fountain…all of it, from my uncle and aunt. So I wanted to share the loveliness. How could I keep something this beautiful to myself?”
“And you’re recommending my lads, of course?” He grinned cheekily.
“Oh, should I have done so?” She widened her eyes and stared at him.
“Little devil,” he chuckled.
She smiled smugly. “Of course I’ve had chance to mention the brilliant minds behind the flowerbeds.” She turned a little. “And I mentioned you too, of course.”
He sighed. “There’s nothing for it, lass. It’s inevitable.”
“What is?” She sucked in a surprised breath as he took her arm and whisked her around a corner. “This.” His mouth came down on hers, and she squeaked in shock, then—as the wondrous sensation of a man’s lips on hers made her tingle—discovered her arms snaking up around his neck. A delicious heat bloomed deep within her and when his tongue ran along the edge of her mouth, she opened and let him inside.
A loud burst of laughter made them both jump and they separated, she to put her hand to her face, he to straighten his cravat.
“You’re a handful, Miss Prudence, I’ll say that.”
She tried to be outraged, but failed dismally, and ended up clearing her throat and attempting to achieve some sort of mature dignity. The fact that her knees were trembling beneath her gown was entirely irrelevant. “Well, for a first kiss, I will admit that was quite impressive, Sir Ronan. Thank you. Now when I’m kissed in future, I shall at least have something to measure it by.” She met his gaze, hoping he wouldn’t know the effort it took.
“We could go for two, just to make sure you have your measurements clear,” he suggested.
“Ah, thank you, but I think not. My aunt is headed this way.” She moved away from him, a little more quickly than she’d intended, but she didn’t miss his whispered words as she left.
“Little coward.”
Yes. That pretty much summed up her state of mind. When it came to Sir Ronan O’Malley, she was a complete and utter coward.
Lydia Davenport had caught the look on Sir Ronan’s face as he spoke with Prudence, and she’d wondered at it. Then sighed.
Her dearest friends, Judith, Rose and now Ivy…all wed, happily, to wonderful men they clearly adored. It wasn’t so much that she’d lost them to marriage, because she hadn’t. They all gathered together regularly, attended the Wednesday Club dances, enjoyed themselves enormously when they met and stood at each other’s backs if the need arose.
It was just…just something. Something that, for a few moments on a sunny afternoon, made Lydia feel like an outsider.
When is it going to be my turn?
“Well, Lydia, darling. When is it going to be your turn?” Lady Celchester was smiling archly at her. “You’re a beauty, as you know, so I would guess the gentlemen are buzzing like bees eager for your honeyed smile…”
“Oh Lady Celchester. What a way with words you have.” Lydia managed to smile through clenched teeth. “I’m sure the right gentleman will be along at some point. But I’m in no hurry…”
“Wise girl,” said the older woman, shocking Lydia. “Take your time. One should never end up with the wrong one because one lacked patience. Lacking money, or lacking looks…that’s different. But you’ve got both, so make sure you’ve got the patience.” She patted Lydia’s arm and walked away.
“Goodness.”
Rose strolled over. “Are you all right? You look a bit stunned.”
“I just got some rather good advice from an unlikely source,” she answered. “One never knows about people, does one?”
“That’s profound,” Rose gave her an inquiring look. “Anything you’d care to share?”
“Not really,” replied Lydia. “But…” she turned to face her friend. “I’ve been thinking lately about a lot of things, marriage included.”
“And…?”
“All this tying the knot business is working out nicely for you and the others. But I’m not convinced it’s right for me. So I think I might take a lover.”
“A lover?” Rose raised an eyebrow. “Hmm. It’s an idea, I suppose, and if anyone can, you can. But it’ll cause a dreadful scandal, you know.”
Lydia grinned, pleased that her friend wasn’t fainting from shock. “Yes. I know. And won’t it be just delicious?”
Next up:
Lydia gets herself into all kinds of trouble
– watch for Lydia’s adventures coming soon.
If this is your first adventure with the Wednesday Club folks, you might want to begin with
BOOK ONE – A Gentleman for Judith,
and follow that up with
BOOK TWO – A Melody for Rose
All the Wednesday Club books are listed HERE
(Amazon.com and Kindle Unlimited)
About the Author
British born and bred, Sahara Kelly has enjoyed writing and reading Regency romances for many decades, beginning in her childhood with books by Jane Austen, Georgette Heyer and Barbara Cartland.
Arriving in America with her almost-complete collection of Leslie Charteris’ Saint novels, all the original James Bonds, and a passion for Monty Python, Sahara’s new life eventually expanded to include a husband, offspring, citizenship, and a certain amount of acclimation to her new surroundings.
She never quite managed to attain a level of comfort with the American way of spelling, however, and creating a Regency novel offers challenges in that regard. So you’ll see words that British readers will recognize, but American readers might perhaps find unusual. It’s a choice… should one write an English romance using English spelling? Sahara has come around to that belief. She can now enjoy the extra “u” which has always seemed so colourful…
After more than two decades of writing, Sahara is now enjoying the greater freedom offered to authors by the rapidly expanding self-publishing scene and looking forward to many more such experiences.
Being freed of external controlling
restraints has opened doors—for Sahara and many other writers. There are now no impediments; no obstructions barring the path from writer to reader. Which is, in many ways, exactly as originally intended when that first storyteller sat on a rock outside her cave, tugged her bearskin around her shoulders and smiled at her kids across the open fire with the words “Once upon a time…” (or however it sounded several million years ago.)
To find out more about Sahara Kelly and her writing, please drop by her website and visit her at:
Sahara Kelly’s website
This is where Sahara shares none of the intimate details of her life, but will present you with a list of books she'd like you to buy so that she can go do research on a tropical beach and be pampered with massages accompanied by drinks with umbrellas in them. She’ll send you a postcard. Thank you.
When not dreaming of lazing on sunkissed sands, Sahara has a modestly active social presence on the Internet. Take a look:
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Also By Sahara Kelly
(*- co-written with S.L. Carpenter)
A Melody for Rose
The Wednesday Club, Book Two
A Gentleman for Judith
The Wednesday Club, Book One
The Dowager Countess
The Saga of Wolfbridge Manor, Book Two
Lady Adalyn
The Saga of Wolfbridge Manor, Book One
The Landlocked Baron
Book 1 in the Six Pearls of Baron Ridlington series
St. Simon’s Sin
Book 2 in the Six Pearls of Baron Ridlington series
Word of a Lady
Book 3 in the Six Pearls of Baron Ridlington series
The Mistress Wager
Book 4 in the Six Pearls of Baron Ridlington series