The Caress of a Commander [retail]

by Linda Rae Sande

  Happy wife, happy life, Stephen suddenly remembered.

  Stephen recaptured her lips to resume the kiss—until he realized how the rest of this body was responding. “If we do this much longer, I may not be able to wait until tomorrow to take you to my bed,” Stephen whispered, his lips sliding along her jawline.

  Victoria blushed, a giggle erupting. “Is there a bed?” she wondered. “You haven’t even shown me any bedchambers yet,” she whispered.

  “Oh, aye,” he replied. “And don’t be thinking I’ll be allowing you to sleep in your own bed any time soon,” he warned with an arched brow.

  Own bed?

  “I’ll have my own?” Victoria asked in surprise.

  Stephen allowed a wan smile. “Your own bedchamber, of course,” he allowed. “As to your own bed, I suppose that will depend on if I’m invited into it or not.”

  Victoria grinned. “Do you snore?”

  Stephen suddenly stopped swaying as he pulled his body away from hers. “What do you know of snoring?” he asked in alarm. He had certainly heard his fill of it as he slept in his hammock aboard ship. As to whether or not he snored, he really had no idea.

  Her eyes widening with his question, Victoria shook her head. “My father’s snoring causes the entire house to vibrate,” she replied.

  “Oh.”

  When he didn’t elaborate, Victoria angled her head to one side. “Shall we go upstairs and find out?” she asked with an arched eyebrow.

  Stephen blinked. And blinked again when he realized what she might be suggesting. “After you, my lady,” he replied as he waved a hand toward the hall. “After you.”

  Chapter 46

  A Trip to Bampton

  Meanwhile, back in Oxfordshire

  Will assisted first his sister and then Barbara into the ancient carriage, impressed with the clothes Hannah had loaned Barbara to wear on their shopping excursion. The deep blue pelisse over a lighter blue carriage gown made her gray eyes even more arresting than usual. A matching bonnet, its deep blue feathers and fabric flowers rather restrained compared to the riot of color decorating Hannah’s hat, topped the ensemble. A pair of black half-boots appeared when Barbara stepped up into the equipage.

  “You two look rather lovely,” he said, suddenly wondering if he should join them. He had a thought that some young buck might think they were unchaperoned and take advantage, but then he dared a glance at the driver and decided they would be safe enough. He remembered the groom’s name, Bill, from when he had checked on Thunderbolt the night before. The young man seemed all business as he finished checking the tack of the matched pair he had hitched up a few minutes ago.

  Fishing his purse from a pocket, Will dumped a number of coins into his hand. “Hand me your reticules,” he said to the women.

  Her brow arching in surprise, Barbara regarded him a moment before lifting the borrowed reticule from her lap. “I’ve nothing to put into it, so it’s merely acting as decoration,” she said with a hint of humor.

  Will grinned, rather happy Barbara seemed in such a good mood since their tour of the house. Being able to sleep in a real bed with a comfortable mattress had probably helped a bit in that regard. He transferred the coins into the reticule and pulled the drawstring so the fabric gathered and closed.

  “What did you do?” Barbara asked, pulling the reticule from his grasp.

  “Buy what you need, sweeting,” he murmured, helping himself to one of her gloved hands so he could kiss the back of it. “And then buy something for our son, and then buy something you want.”

  Her eyes wide at the use of the endearment, Barbara blushed. “Bellingham!” she admonished him, pulling her hand from his grasp.

  Hannah watched the two with a grin. “And what am I to buy?” she asked as she held out her reticule to him.

  “The earl said to remind you that his birthday is next week,” Will replied with an arched eyebrow. He held out several pound notes.

  Hannah stared at the money, blinking several times before she reached for the bills. “I don’t suppose he mentioned what he might like for his birthday?” she replied as she stuffed the bills into her reticule. She already had something on order. With any luck, it had been delivered the day before and would be waiting for her at the hardware store.

  Will gave her a grin and shook his head. “I’m sure whatever you pick out will suit him,” he said, his manner full of mischief. “See you at dinner,” he added, ignoring the stunned looks of the women as he made his way to the driver. “Keep an eye on them,” he said to Bill, tossing a coin to the driver.

  “Aye, sir,” Bill said as he caught the coin. A crack of his whip and the carriage jerked into motion, heading down the lane toward Bampton. Before it disappeared from view, Donald came racing from the house, calling out for Will. Just as he reached his father, Will grabbed the boy beneath his arms, lifting him high into the air and spinning him around before lowering him back to the road.

  Donald screeched in delight, a bit unsteady on his feet when he landed. “Uncle Henry says he’s ready to go fishing,” he managed to get out before Will set to tickling him around his ribs. Escaping Will’s hold, Donald raced on ahead, Harold bouncing about and barking.

  Barbara turned around from having heard her son’s call and watched Will launch the boy into the air to spin him around. Her heart gave a leap at seeing the spectacle, although she was torn between being fearful of the boy landing in a heap on the ground and glad Will was so accepting of her son. He never once doubted her claim that Donald was his son, never once questioned the possibility that he could be someone else’s bastard child.

  Was it wise to allow this to continue? Some part of her still believed Will would change his mind and return to London.

  “He’ll make an excellent father,” Hannah said after having watched a bit of what her brother had just done. Even now, Will and Donald were making their way back toward the house, apparently engaged in easy conversation.

  “I suppose,” Barbara allowed, although not with a lot of conviction. She returned her attention to the road ahead, deciding she rather liked this part of Oxfordshire better than the one in which her cottage of the past seven years was located. Tenant cottages dotted the landscape on either side, their occupants busy in the fields or working in gardens or tending to animals in pens. An occasional manor house broke up the fields, the Portland stone exteriors hung with ivy.

  “What is it that has you so vexed when it comes to my brother?” Hannah wondered, hoping she wasn’t offending Barbara with the question.

  “Vexed?” Barbara repeated, realizing it was as good a word as any to describe how torn she had felt since Will had shown up in Broadwell. She sighed. “I had given up ever seeing him again,” she said. “I thought I was quite done with him. And now... now I am torn between allowing myself to love him again and hoping he’ll go away.”

  Hannah frowned. “He loves you very much. And your son, as well. Why ever would you send him away?”

  Barbara shook her head. “He’ll insist we return to London. I cannot go back there.”

  Turning on the carriage seat so she could better see Barbara, Hannah gave her a quizzical stare. “What are you so afraid of?” she asked, realizing she was close to discovering whatever had Barbara staying away from her home.

  Barbara stared ahead, wondering if she should admit what she hadn’t been able to tell Will. Hannah would no doubt tell her brother when she had the chance, but then at least he would know. “I went to your brother’s apartment the night before he was to leave London,” she said in a quiet voice, hoping she couldn’t be overheard by their driver. “I... gave myself to him, you see. I suppose I thought he might change his mind and stay in London, but instead, he vowed to return when he had finished his duty to King and Country.” She said the words with derision, her bitterness apparent. “He said he would marry me then, and promised me we would have a townhouse and a life in London.”

  Her brows furrowing, Hannah shook her head. “
And now that he’s done with his duty and has come for you—”

  “I cannot show my face in London. I cannot bear what the gossip mongers will say behind my back. Everywhere I go, they know...” She stopped.

  “Know what?” Hannah interrupted. “That you had to leave London because your father’s gambling was bankrupting the earldom?” The words were out of her mouth before she had a chance to soften them, to censor them. Hannah swallowed. “Everyone knows he gambles. Everyone knows he might end up in debtor’s prison,” she went on. “So, of course you had to leave. There’s no shame in that.”

  Barbara frowned, stunned by Hannah’s words. “But the reason I left is because he banished me...” She paused, swallowing hard before lowering her voice to a whisper. “I was with child. My maid knew. My aunt knew—”

  “But no one else seems to have known,” Hannah interrupted. “Barbara, I was in London until two years ago, and there hasn’t been a word of gossip about you.”

  Staring at Hannah in disbelief, Barbara began shaking her head. “How is that possible?” she wondered. She had always assumed her maid would have spread the gossip among the other servants, especially when she realized she would be losing her position when Barbara left the household. Her aunt? Well, the woman could spread gossip like the very best gossip monger, but apparently she hadn’t said a word about her niece. Perhaps she realized the family couldn’t abide anymore gossip given her father’s reputation as a gambler.

  Hannah sighed, one hand gripping Barbara’s hand. “In fact, those that remember you wonder where you’ve been living. Your father has apparently gambled away all the unentailed properties of the Greenley earldom. He owes money to every gaming hell. It’s possible he’s already in debtor’s prison. Your brothers have had to take positions to earn their livings, at least until the oldest inherits, in the event the earldom hasn’t already reverted to the Crown.”

  Biting her lower lip, Barbara nodded, remembering what her father’s solicitor had last written to her. Hannah’s words merely confirmed his news. “How often do you suppose your brother will wish to return to London?” she asked in a small voice.

  Remembering what Will had said about leaving his brother behind as a stand-in for him, Hannah allowed a grin. “As long as Stephen is willing to act in his stead, Will won’t have to return to London. At least, not until he inherits the Devonville marquessate,” she replied with a shrug. “Until that happens, he has a position as a foreman to help my husband with the farming. A position and a place to live,” she added, hoping Barbara would agree to stay. She rather liked the woman, and the thought of having her nephew nearby when she would soon have another baby merely meant more children in the household.

  Barbara considered Hannah’s words, her thoughts of Will and his behavior over the past two days changing a bit. “Thank you,” she murmured. “You have given me much to think about.”

  The carriage pulled up to the raised boardwalk along the line of shops in Bampton and came to a halt. “Well, don’t be thinking of all that right now,” Hannah admonished her. “We have some shopping to do.”

  Barbara smiled, the sounds of coins in the bottom of her reticule a reminder that she needed to buy a few things. Wanted to buy a few things.

  Chapter 47

  Fishing for Advice

  Meanwhile, on the banks of the River Isis

  As Will, Henry and Donald took up positions on the riverbank near where the gates for the irrigation ditches were installed, Will dared a glance at Henry while he helped Donald impale a worm with a hook. Harold was off exploring farther down the riverbank, occasionally stopping for a drink of water.

  “I suppose Hannah told you about Barbara and me,” Will said as he knelt down.

  Henry regarded Will for a moment before giving a shake of his head. “Just said you two had been apart for the entire time you were at sea,” he replied. “Eight years?”

  “Aye.” Pulling a length of line from the rod, Will handed it to Donald. “Now, toss the hook into the water, and whatever you do, don’t get it caught in your breeches,” he instructed. He stood back and watched as Donald did as he was told, rather proud when the hook plopped into the water. “Be sure to keep a firm grip on the handle like this,” he demonstrated first before giving the rod back to the boy. “And when you feel a tug on the line, then start reeling it in.”

  Donald nodded his understanding and gripped the cork-covered handle.

  “I didn’t have a chance to actually marry her before I left London,” Will said, his comment directed to Henry.

  The earl finished baiting his hook and used a flick of his wrist to launch his hook and line into the water, his reel spinning as he did so. “But you’re going to in the next few days,” he replied finally.

  The comment wasn’t a question, and Will realized he had to agree. “That’s the plan. Know any vicars?”

  “Aye.” Henry reeled in his line and recast. “Hannah will be speaking with him right about now,” he added.

  Will nearly did a double-take. “I would have seen to that.” Once Barbara actually agreed to marry me.

  “She said she would see to it, and you know your sister,” Henry countered with a smirk.

  Swallowing, Will realized he didn’t know his sister if she was off lining up a vicar without telling him. “I thought I did,” he finally said, sotto voce.

  “Well, she’s a countess, and she takes it very seriously. Won’t be the first time she sees to it a couple gets married,” Henry added with an arched brow, remembering how his stableboy and Hannah’s maid ended up married before Hannah had even been at Gisborn Hall more than a week or two. He recast his line, directing it to a different part of the river. He could feel Donald’s eyes on him as he cast the line and gave the boy a nod. “Is this really your first time fishing?” he asked just as Harold rejoined them and settled himself on the bank.

  Donald nodded. “Aye. I don’t think my mother likes worms,” he replied with a shake of his head.

  Will had to suppress a grin as he cast his line. “It’s rather handy you have so many fishing poles,” he commented, his voice kept low so as not to scare away the fish.

  “Indeed. My uncle wasn’t much of a farmer, but he sure liked to fish,” Henry replied. After a few moments, he added, “I rather think Hannah will want to host your wedding breakfast.”

  Suppressing a grin at the change in subject, Will allowed a nod. “I will be sure to formally ask her to do so,” he replied.

  “Don’t suppose you have any wedding clothes with you,” Henry said, slowly reeling in his line.

  “As a matter of fact, I do,” Will replied, reeling in his own line, watching his son’s line as he did so. When he was aware of Henry giving him a look of surprise, he allowed a shrug. “I’m an optimist.”

  At that moment, Donald’s line suddenly tightened, the reel spinning. “Hold on!” Will said, moving laterally along the bank so he could help the boy if needed. “Grab the handle, and reel in the line as fast as you can.”

  But Donald had already started cranking the handle, occasionally struggling and then reeling as fast as he could. Before long, a small trout bounced out of the water, and Henry held out a net to capture it. By that time, Will had his own line reeled in and the rod set aside so he could help.

  “Now for the hard part,” he said as he took hold of the trout and worked to get the hook out of its mouth.

  Donald watched intently, his eyes wide as Will pulled out the hook and tossed the fish into the basket. “Your turn to put a worm on,” Will said. He watched as Donald dug into the box of worm-filled mud they had brought along. “Careful you don’t poke your finger.” Soon, a squirming worm was secured on the hook and Donald was throwing out his line.

  Three hours, four pints of ale and three sandwiches later, nearly twenty trout filled the basket. “I do believe we have enough for tonight’s dinner,” Henry announced with a good deal of satisfaction. Although they had nearly lost the net—Will’s second fish had prove
d especially hard to land—they still had all the gear.

  He turned to find Donald napping against a rock. Grinning, he finished securing his rod’s line and regarded Will. “Shall we wake him?” he wondered.

  Will shook his head. “I’ll carry him if you can manage the fish,” he replied, lifting Donald so he was standing atop the rock. “Climb on,” he said to the drowsy boy, “And wrap your arms around my neck.”

  Doing as he was told, Donald was soon riding on Will’s back, his legs wrapped around his father’s middle. “How many fish did you catch?” he asked sleepily.

  “Eight, I think,” Will said. “But you got the largest and the smallest.” He felt the boy’s laughter as it burbled forth. “I’ll let you be the one to tell your mother.”

  The three made their way back to Gisborn Hall by way of the irrigation ditch that ran along the edge of the farm fields, Harold following when he wasn’t stopping to dig up something.

  “Does it work?” Stephen asked as he indicated the new plow sitting at the edge of the field.

  Henry pointed to the adjacent field to the west, newly plowed and ready for seeding. “It does, indeed. Finished the entire Ellsworth field earlier today,” he said proudly.

  Will allowed a grin. “You really need to give that place a new name,” he said.

  The earl nodded. “Perhaps I’ll leave that to you,” he countered. “Since you’re the one who will be living there.”

  Wide awake but rather enjoying the ride on his father’s back, Donald piped up. “We should call it Bellingham Park.”

  The two gentleman laughed at first but then traded amused glances. “Bellingham Park it is,” Henry announced.

  “Mum is back,” Donald said as he pointed toward the road from Bampton, his vantage as good as his father’s. “The carriage looks full.”

  Will glanced in the direction Donald indicated to see the carriage with its two occupants and boxes and parcels filling the remaining space. “That’s far more than a birthday present,” he murmured, remembering his comment to Hannah earlier that day. He matched Henry’s faster pace so they could intercept the carriage as it made its way up the drive to the back of Gisborn Hall.