Much Ado About You

by Eloisa James

  “Perhaps the Lasletts can’t afford to buy the portrait back,” Tess said, as they strolled back to the house.

  “The Dobson portrait?” Lucius asked. He looked down at her, his dark eyes curious. “Likely not. I bought it for nearly a thousand pounds.”

  “There was a portrait of my mother that used to hang in her chamber,” Tess said.

  “I’ll find it,” Lucius said, before she had to continue.

  “It might be difficult…it’s been a very long time since my father—”

  But Lucius was smiling. “I’ll find it,” he repeated gently. “Now, may I show you the rest of the house? The lady’s bower, for instance?”

  There was something in his eyes that made Tess blush, and once they reached that bower, a perfect frenzy of rosebuds and ruffled silk, it was clear that Lucius’s interest was less in playing guide than in…something else.

  Naturally, there was a portrait of a lady hanging on the wall there too, just across from a beautiful rosewood writing desk. She was posed on a bench in the woods, leaning on one hand. Her eyes gazed at the viewer lazily, her other hand holding a book that she seemed too indolent to read. Tess moved quite close, trying to see the spine of her book.

  “She’s reading Shakespeare,” Lucius said. “Much Ado about Nothing. Although I fear that the inestimable play seems to be sending her to sleep.”

  “Do you know who she is?” Tess asked.

  “A Lady Boothby. I am not certain of her first name. The portrait is by Benjamin West and dates to the 1780s.”

  Tess blinked at Lady Boothby. “She’s probably still alive,” she pointed out.

  “I quite like her,” Lucius said.

  “So do I,” Tess agreed. “But I am not quite certain that I wish to share my chambers with Lady Boothby.”

  “An odd way of thinking about it,” Lucius said. “I have instructed my agents to buy any portrait that comes on the market by Benjamin West.”

  “Why do you have so many people spread about your houses?” she asked. “Portraits, I mean.”

  He tipped up her chin. “I’d much rather talk of you than Lady Boothby,” he said, his lips brushing hers.

  “But Lucius, I don’t wish a portrait of a stranger in my intimate chamber,” Tess said, trying to explain to him.

  He shrugged. “Much ado about nothing, my dear. I’ll have her removed to the attics immediately.”

  “The attics!” It seemed wrong to banish Lady Boothby to the attics.

  Lucius had started kissing her neck, and his hands were drifting down her back.

  He’s distracting me, Tess thought. Clearly, he doesn’t want to discuss Lady Boothby or any of those other portraits.

  But that was the last clear thought she had for over an hour.

  Chapter

  30

  October 1

  Bramble Hill

  Dearest Annabel and Josie,

  I am writing this in my private sitting room, which sounds very grand but is precisely the same size as Mama’s dressing room. As it turns out, Lucius does not own a castle. Bramble Hill is decorated with particular splendor, but truly, it is not much larger than our house in Scotland. The ground floor has a drawing room next to the dining room, where our library used to be; Lucius’s study is to the back, overlooking the gardens, and there is a lovely salon between it and the dining room. I long to show you everything, and Lucius promises to bring you both here soon, perhaps as early as next week.

  Is there any news of Imogen? Please do let me know as soon as she returns. Lucius feels that she and Lord Maitland may take some time on their return trip. Since you will see her first, do give her my love.

  I feel as if your questions are sounding in my ear as I write, Annabel. Lucius (perhaps I should refer to him as Mr. Felton, but he most dislikes that) is all that could be termed generous. He very much enjoys bestowing gifts on me. Yesterday he brought me a parrot with bright yellow feathers and a purplish beak. She is quite young and so cannot say a word, but apparently she will learn to speak if I apply myself. I spent a great deal of time this morning feeding her seeds in order to gain her confidence. She is dreadfully messy and enjoys flinging shells in every direction. The man who brought her to the house advised me to keep her with me as much as possible so that she will view me as a friend. She loves being out of her cage but finds her excitement difficult to control. It is fortunate that I am fond of bathing (and I leave you to ascertain the connotations of her excitement!).

  I spent a good part of yesterday trying to come to an understanding of this household, only one of five houses Lucius owns. He works very long hours in his study, and I hesitate to interrupt him except for matters of the greatest importance, so it is a bit of a puzzle.

  I shall write again after breakfasting tomorrow. Please do let me know by return post how you are both going on. I miss you.

  Much love,

  Your sister, Mrs. Felton (I couldn’t resist)

  October 2

  Bramble Hill

  PRIVATE

  Dear Annabel,

  I am writing you this note privately because I feel that you are likely bursting with questions—none of which I intend to answer! Marriage is a very interesting state of affairs; I will tell you that.

  Lucius is the sort of man who always knows precisely the most civilized response to any situation. I assure you that I shall soon be the most well mannered person in Christendom, simply by watching his example. He works far harder than Papa ever did; I shouldn’t see him from morning to night if I didn’t go to his study with occasional questions.

  It has occurred to me that perhaps it would be good for Lucius if life were a bit more surprising. But this is, obviously, a matter for the future.

  With love,

  Tess

  October 4

  Bramble Hill

  Dear Annabel and Josie,

  I can imagine the two of you reading this together, probably curled up on Annabel’s bed. I have named my parrot Chloe, although why I gave her such a refined name, I don’t know. She does seem to have a liking to me, which she exhibits by pecking at my hair and squawking very loudly when I enter a room. The housekeeper, Mrs. Gabthorne, has taken a dislike to her. There was an unfortunate episode with a cup of tea, and I fear that Mrs. Gabthorne will never get over the shock of it.

  I have to say that while one would think it would be much easier to run a large house with the help of many servants, I am finding it quite a task. Mrs. Gabthorne is feuding with the head housemaid, Dapper. According to Mrs. Gabthorne, Dapper has an eye for one of the footmen who is at least five years her junior, and Mrs. Gabthorne worries (very righteously, you understand) that Dapper will attempt to corrupt the youth. Meanwhile Dapper tells me that Mrs. Gabthorne is “borrowing” tea and taking it to her sisters in the village. And how am I to ascertain the truth of that, pray? Of course, I daren’t mention the footman to Dapper, either. In all, I find it more work to manage an establishment with servants than it was to manage a quite similar-sized house without servants.

  The arrival of Lady Griselda’s modiste is, indeed, a wonderful occurrence, and I naturally understand why you would rather remain at our guardian’s house for the moment. I am not certain why you say that the scandal of Imogen’s marriage is greatly lessened, however; in what manner and by what means? Do give Imogen a kiss from me when you see her this evening. I was so happy to have her note and hear that she and Lord Maitland are happily settled at Maitland House.

  Love,

  Tess

  October 7

  Bramble Hill

  Dear Annabel and Josie,

  This will be a very short note as I must dress for dinner. I have moved our evening meal forward as Lucius leaves for the city tonight. He plans to work during the day and return here the following evening, again traveling by night. I cannot feel this frantic motion is healthful. And of course, this means that he will not be able to join us for the races at Silchester tomorrow, but I shall see you there, Annabe
l.

  I am utterly flummoxed to hear that my husband apparently saved Imogen from a Gretna Green marriage. He has mentioned nothing. One would think that marrying a man would give one insight into his character, but I seem to find Lucius more puzzling day by day. I am eager to hear all the details from Imogen when I see her at the races.

  Josie, I shall miss you, but I do agree with Miss Flecknoe that dancing lessons are of great importance in a young lady’s life. Annabel and Imogen will give you all my news from Silchester, and there will be many such races in the future.

  My love to everyone,

  Tess

  Chapter

  31

  A half hour or so before their evening meal would be served Tess knocked on the connecting door that led to her husband’s chambers. She wasn’t sure of the etiquette of marriage: did one knock on one’s husband’s door? For some reason, it felt odd. Yet at the same time, if he were occupied in personal ablutions…she heard the deep sound of Lucius’s voice saying something to his valet, and then his unhurried steps to the door.

  “Good evening, my dear,” he said.

  The sight of him gave Tess the most peculiar sensation. He stood there with a look of inquiry on his face, and her knees grew weak, and the only thing she could think about was kissing him. She had the sudden sensation that her corset was too tight; she couldn’t breathe properly. This reaction should have become familiar to her by now, but instead it seemed to grow stronger every moment.

  The worst of it was that Lucius was clearly not similarly affected by her presence. He was unremittingly polite when they encountered each other in the breakfast room, at supper, or in a corridor. On those rare occasions that she ventured into his study, he never failed to offer his advice when it came to a knotty household problem. But he showed no wish to dally, or gaze in her eyes, or indulge in any manner of newlywed behavior.

  This afternoon, for instance, when she entered his study to ask him a question about the diamond bracelet that suddenly appeared on her pillow, she had taken no more than a glance at the Empire-backed crimson settee in his study before a remarkably inflaming image appeared in her mind. But when she perched on his armchair and tried her best to entice him into neglecting his affairs—if only briefly—she had no success.

  He moved away from her kisses and politely but firmly told her that he had work to do. She insisted on giving him a thank-you kiss; he insisted that she leave his study after the merest buss on her cheek. She gathered all her courage and melted against his chest, raising her face to his; he stepped backward so quickly that she almost toppled to the floor, after which he bowed her from the room.

  It was only after Gussie had bathed and dressed her for night that Lucius would transform from friendly acquaintance to husband. And then, indeed, his eyes had a wicked shine, and he showed passionate interest in his wife.

  Yet to all appearances, she was the only one who seemed afflicted during the day by thoughts of the evenings—and nights—they spent together.

  For example, here he was, exquisitely dressed in a coat of somber blue, and all she could think of was the previous night and the way he nuzzled her stomach. And lower. She could feel her cheeks flaming.

  “Tess,” Lucius said. “Is there some way that I can aid you?”

  “I am having some difficulty deciding which gown to wear tonight,” Tess said, pulling herself together. “I am faced with a greater selection than I have had in my entire life. Do you think that I should wear this velvet gown, or that of sarsanet?” She indicated the two gowns placed on her bed.

  He strolled over, and said, “Did I order that black velvet?”

  “No, you did not,” she said, nettled. “If my memory is correct, I ordered all the gowns in question. You merely lent me the benefit of your advice.”

  “You’re not in full mourning,” he said. “Wear the green. The black is a bit drab, don’t you think?”

  “No, the black is extremely elegant,” Tess said, feeling a surge of stubbornness. Why didn’t he ever show any signs of wishing to make love to her other than after twilight? Was he on a schedule of some sort?

  “I prefer you in less drab clothing,” he said, leaning against one of the posts of her bed.

  “I believe I shall wear the black velvet,” Tess said, just to be contrary. And then, to be even more contrary, she turned her back to him, and said, “If you would be so kind as to tighten my corset, Lucius. Gussie has gone to the kitchens on an errand.”

  “Of course,” he murmured, walking over to her.

  Tess couldn’t help it; the very touch of his fingers gave her a peculiar physical sensation, like a melting in her lower stomach. Even the notion that he was standing just behind her—and now, lacing her corset in such a way that her breasts seemed to swell to at least twice their size. But it wasn’t the corset that gave her the tingling sensation that her breasts were lush and—and desirous. That was the memory of last night. Her heart slammed against her ribs at the very thought.

  Why should she allow her husband to think of her as a woman only at bedtime? And only when they were in her bedchamber? From which he discreetly departed at sometime during the night—and she didn’t like that either, now she thought of it.

  She walked away from him, feeling his eyes on her waist and allowing her hips to take on a sultry sway that she wouldn’t even have understood only days before. After a few steps she glanced back at him over her shoulder. “If you would be so kind, Lucius,” she said casually. “The gown.”

  A moment later the sweet smell of new velvet came over her head. Protecting her hair, she settled it over her shoulders. This was no drab mourning gown. It was cut extremely low, so low that the little sleeves fell down her shoulders and almost touched her elbows. It wasn’t cut straight across either. The bodice dipped just at her cleavage. The best part of it, to Tess’s mind, was the ermine trim, which nestled between her breasts and the glowing black velvet.

  He still hadn’t said a word. So she turned around quite slowly, and said, with every drop of casual interest she could muster, “Do I look unbearably drab, then, Lucius?”

  He wasn’t leaning against her bedpost any longer. His eyes had blackened to inky-dark, and he didn’t look like a composed, perfect gentleman anymore.

  Tess pulled up her skirts to reveal a slender ankle clad in silver silk that shimmered slightly in the candlelight.

  He looked down obediently, and she arched her foot. “Do you suggest black slippers,” she asked. “Or the shoes with the high heels? The shoes buckle on one side, like those of gentlemen, which is a rather amusing touch.”

  He stared at her feet for a moment, and then gave his sudden smile, the one he gave so rarely. It transformed his whole face. The power of it jolted down her legs like an electric shock. “I can only think that I am being punished,” he observed. “Although I am uncertain of my transgression.”

  He knelt at her feet and slipped on the buckled high heels, his fingers sending shivers up her leg.

  “Nonsense,” she said, when he had finished, turning to her mirror and picking up a necklace of emeralds she had found on her breakfast plate two days ago. “Will you fasten this for me, Lucius?” And she bent her neck obediently and waited for his fingers to touch her there.

  She seemed to spend a great deal of her day waiting for his fingers to touch her, now she thought about it.

  He took the emeralds but let them slide back down to the dressing table.

  “What would you like me to do, Tess?” he said. “Other than dress you?”

  “Be impetuous,” she whispered, her cheeks flaming with the boldness of it. But she met his eyes in the mirror and made herself relax back against his chest.

  With a wild thrill of excitement she felt his fingers trace a delicious path from her throat to her collarbone, and then to the swell of her breasts.

  “We are due at the table within the hour,” Lucius said, turning her slightly and bending his head so that his lips could begin kissing the trai
l blazed by his fingers.

  “Yes,” Tess said weakly. She wanted to wrap her fingers into his hair. But she couldn’t help him at all. Not at all. He had to make up his own mind. So she didn’t reach out and—

  “It’s extremely ill bred to inconvenience the chef,” Lucius observed. His lips had feasted on the delicate hollow of her collarbone and were sliding onto the plump slopes of her breasts.

  “Yes,” Tess said. Could she simply touch his shoulder? No. He had to make up his mind without her persuasion.

  Suddenly, Lucius straightened and walked a few strides to the door. He opened it, and said briskly, “Why don’t we enjoy a preprandial drink in the parlor?”

  Tess stared at him in bewilderment. He had made up his mind—and he wanted to leave? To go to dinner?

  He had made up his mind incorrectly.

  And it was up to her, his wife, to inform him of that fact.

  Of course, Lucius was standing in the doorway looking the very picture of domestic tranquillity. As if they’d been married some forty years! So Tess took matters into her own hands.

  “I must say good-bye to Chloe,” she said, turning toward the large cage in the corner. The moment she approached, Chloe squawked at her and tipped her head to one side in a charming greeting.

  “That parrot has a rather annoying shriek,” Lucius observed, walking over to the cage. “I had hoped that she would be company for you while I’m away, but her salutations may be more aggravating than cheering.”

  “Do you travel often at night?” Tess asked, as she took Chloe from the cage. “It sounds so uncomfortable.”