“Why are you grinning like that?” he asked, pulling her onto the bed and immediately lowering his mouth to her ripe rosy nipple, not waiting for a reply.
“No more Binkley,” she murmured, arching to meet his wicked tongue and teeth.
Raising his head, he looked at her.
“Your lips are parted like a wanton, your hair is flowing around you, you are stark naked, your body round and bountiful, and your eyes are glazed with passion. That is to say, you are a goddess, exactly how I want you. Yet you are thinking of Binkley?”
She laughed, unable to help her throaty tone, laced with desire.
“No, husband. I am not thinking of Binkley. For God’s sake, touch me again. Touch me everywhere. But especially here.”
She brushed the moisture-laden curls below her blossoming stomach. “Please,” she added.
“With pleasure.” Simon took her nipple into his mouth again while his hand displaced hers to stroke her already-swollen flesh.
Moaning, she closed her eyes, unable to think. She would spend fast and then do so again after he penetrated her, sometimes even more than twice. As he gently flicked her sensitive nub precisely where she pulsed the hardest, Jenny felt as if a dam burst within her.
“Yes,” she cried, grasping at the sheets while her hips rose from the bed. “Yesss.”
Her climax caused every muscle in her body to coil and then release. When her body seemed to melt back onto the coverlet, she let out a satisfied sound.
“I needed that.”
“I hope you are not yet satisfied,” Simon said, his tone a little gruff, “for I am rather in need myself.”
Rolling to her side as she’d learned was most comfortable, she pressed back against Simon until he eased his yard into her heated passage.
“Are you comfortable?” he asked, still moving gently.
“I’m not complaining,” she said. “Not to sound too pragmatic, but any way we can accomplish this is fine.”
That caused him to chuckle and nearly unseat himself.
“You are priceless.” Kissing her neck, he set to bringing them both to release.
*
“Someone has taken up residence at the hall,” Jenny exclaimed after bursting into the library where her dear husband sat working.
She had just returned from one of the rare walks on which Simon hadn’t accompanied her, as Cam had sent papers from London with Parliamentary business. Simon would be leaving again shortly to listen to debates and to vote. She wasn’t thrilled at the prospect but accepted it was her husband’s duty. After all, this time next year, they would both remain in London for the duration of the Parliamentary session, and she counted her blessings he’d left London for her sake and that of their unborn child.
Standing quickly at her entrance, Simon scattered papers across the table.
“Don’t rush about like that,” he ordered. “Did you run all the way back here and dash up the stairs?”
“Perhaps,” she allowed, taking a seat demurely on the sofa where she’d once read books to Maude’s children. She missed them still. Soon, however, she would have her own child to whom she could read.
“Why are you smiling?” Simon asked, coming to sit beside her. “Is it because of the hall’s occupant?”
“Oh, the hall! I’d already forgotten.”
“Dear wife,” Simon said, clasping her chin and making her look at him. “I must say that is happening more and more. The larger your stomach, I fear the smaller your brain.” Then he laughed until she wrenched her chin free. And still he laughed, reclining on the sofa and closing his eyes as he did.
“It’s not funny,” she said, feeling quite annoyed with him. She knew her faculties weren’t quite as sharp as prior to becoming in the family way, but he needn’t rub it in as if she were no more than a brainless sheep.
He wiped at his eyes. “It is, though. I’m sorry to have been blunt, but you came in here all excited about Jonling Hall and then two seconds later you were sitting there with a faraway empty look upon your sweet face, all thoughts of it forgotten.
“Humph!” She crossed her arms and rested them on her bulging stomach. “I was only thinking of sitting in this library reading to our own children someday.”
That sobered him.
“I cannot wait to see it. You will be a splendid mother. Speaking of which, we should find the best accoucheur in all of England and get him here at once.”
“Him? What if I find a midwife? In fact, I know of one already. She is the wife of the baker whose accounts I used to balance.”
“A baker’s wife to deliver my child?”
She nearly laughed at her husband’s shocked expression.
“I much prefer the notion of Emily to some strange man. Only think how awkward that will be, especially with you threatening him with bodily harm every time he so much as looks at me. Besides, Emily has had seven of her own children.”
He appeared mollified but still asked, “And who delivered her seven, that’s what I want to know?”
“As far as I know, she did it with no more help than that of her husband. Perhaps you would like to assist me?”
Simon glanced away. “I think Emily will do fine. Now tell me who moved in to the hall.”
She couldn’t contain her laughter at herself. “Well, I don’t know. There was a carriage in the drive and smoke coming from the main chimney. I came straight home to tell you.”
A frown appeared on her husband’s handsome brow. “I think I will send word first, welcoming our new neighbor and inviting him—”
“Or her,” Jenny reminded him.
“Or her to the manor for a light luncheon. We can hardly show up on their doorstep.”
“No, you’re right, of course.” She still felt the mortification of that moment with Ned. “Yet it wouldn’t be entirely out of line to leave a calling card and expect an immediate response, since it was your family’s residence.”
“True, but I’d rather have this stranger come here than blindly enter that house without any reconnaissance.”
“You sound like a soldier.”
He shrugged.
“Well, all right then,” Jenny agreed. “Send Binkley with the invitation at once. I’m extremely curious.”
He gave her such a loving smile, he took her breath away.
“Yes, wife. I will. Immediately at your command. And may I say you sound like a general?”
As it was, they didn’t even have to wait a day to hear back, for an hour after Binkley delivered the message to the hall, a message came back inviting them to dine the next evening.
“Let me see it,” Jenny begged, reaching for the missive Simon held.
He let her snatch it from him excitedly.
“A man’s handwriting, to be sure,” she surmised. “Not too fussy, rather willy-nilly, in fact. Still, quite legible. And signed as J. Turner.”
Simon poured himself a drink.
“A very solid surname,” Jenny said.
Her husband shrugged. “It means nothing to me.”
“I guess we shall have to wait until tomorrow.” Sometimes being patient was not easy, but Jenny had weathered the worst of impatience while in London waiting for Simon. She could certainly handle a few hours until she met this mysterious stranger.
“I wonder if we should refuse?”
Simon’s words were like a bucket of cold water poured over her head. Like a child, she experienced the disappointment of a potential outing dashed unexpectedly.
“I know you’d rather this Mr. Turner came here, but I’m sure he can mean us no harm if he’s invited us to dine with him.”
“Yet a bit high-handed of this stranger to refuse our invitation in lieu of his own.”
“Simon, please, may we go?”
He smiled at her and she knew they would.
“You have only to ask anything of me, dear wife, and you know I will grant it.”
“That is why we suit so well together.” And she dissolved into laug
hter at his expression of surrender.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Simon knew Jenny was excited to finally set foot inside Jonling Hall. For his part, though, it brought back crystal-clear memories of Toby and the many times they’d laughed and dined together. He had been like a brother, and for his sake, Simon had gone to Burma, not willing to let his cousin face the dangers alone. Look how that had turned out!
Shaking off the cobwebs of sadness, Simon helped Jenny down from their carriage, his tilbury suited perfectly for two. With her hand on his arm, they approached the front door. Clearly the servant had been told to watch for them, for it opened before they reached it.
Simon wished he didn’t feel the prickle of unease, bringing his pregnant wife into this once-joyful place while facing down the unknown.
A friendly maid, not a serious butler, greeted them at the door. A sign this Turner, as Simon suspected, was not of the nobility.
“Good evening, my lord,” she said curtsying to Simon, “and to you my lady.” The maid dropped low for Jenny. “My master wishes you to attend him in the sitting room.”
Simon found it hard to swallow past the lump in his throat. How terribly odd to have this strange young lady leading him through the house he knew as well as his own. Moreover, with a jolt of recognition, he realized Maude had left the furnishings. There was the mirror he’d seen Toby check his hair in the last time they’d left for dinner with Simon’s father.
And here, as they entered the parlor, was the chair Simon had sprawled on while Toby told him a joke about two horses racing. He’d laughed until his eyes had watered, the way Jenny made him laugh now. Thank God he had Jenny.
Squeezing her hand, more to reassure himself than her, Simon stood in the center of the room as the maid left.
“We should sit,” Jenny said.
Simon didn’t move. His eyes were fixed on a landscape painting above the fire.
“It’s all exactly as it ever was, before Toby’s death, from even before Maude came.”
Feeling her touch his shoulder gently, he looked down at her, but she was looking toward the door. Turning, Simon realized with a start their host had entered, quietly and without his having noticed.
“You!” Simon exclaimed.
The man came forward, his hands clasped behind his back, and Simon nearly pushed Jenny behind him to protect her.
“I am glad you accepted my invitation, Lord Lindsey,” the man greeted with a deep bow. “And your lovely countess, I presume.” He bowed to her as well.
“What is the meaning of this?” Simon demanded.
“I don’t understand.” Jenny turned to him with concern. “Simon, what’s wrong?”
“This is the gambler I met at Crocky’s,” he told her, keeping his eyes on the man’s face. “The one who has been playing for my uncle.”
“Really!” She turned to the man openly assessing him. He loved her even more for her reaction. Neither fear, nor hysterics.
“It’s true, my lady. However, there is more to the story, which is why I bought this house.”
“Do tell.” Simon didn’t like games.
“I mean you and your wife no harm. And now we are neighbors. Will you dine with me?”
Simon nearly dismissed the notion out of hand. However, the man’s manners were impeccable so far, and there was no overt threat from him despite the somewhat unsavoriness of his profession and the secretive way he had obtained Jonling Hall.
It was Jenny’s quick acquiescing glance, however, that convinced him.
“Very well, Mr. Turner, formerly Mr. Carlyle. We shall dine.”
In short order, they were seated at one end of the dining table with Jenny and Simon facing each other and their host at the head.
When they’d each been served a glass of wine and had hare soup in front of them, Simon could wait no longer.
“I do not wish to be rude, but why the subterfuge, why the various aliases? Are you Turner or Carlyle, for I don’t like dining with strangers or liars.”
Their host nodded. “I am a Turner. Carlyle is my middle name.”
“Will you tell us the mystery of how you came to be here?” Jenny’s voice and question were far less assertive than his own, as befitted a well-mannered countess.
Hoping if he were honest, Turner would follow, Simon added, “In truth, you looked familiar to me in London though I do not believe we’ve ever met. Am I wrong?”
“I believe you are seeing a familial resemblance. I am your cousin, the eldest son of James Devere.”
Simon felt as if he’d known it all along. Still, the notion this man was Toby’s half-brother, now living in his house, struck Simon a blow. Tamping down the instinct to deny the man’s words or to feel angry toward him for being alive while Toby was dead, Simon asked the only question he could.
“Did Tobias know about you?”
“No.”
“J. Turner,” Jenny said. “Are you James, as well.”
“Jameson,” he said quietly. “My mother is a Turner, and the only way to give some recognition of my sire was for her to name me such.”
Simon was still considering what Toby would have thought of having a bastard brother.
“I believe Tobias would have been happy to know you, or at least of you.”
“Do you think?” their host asked. “I often wondered. I asked my father to let me meet my half-brother, but he denied me.”
“Perhaps to spare Tobias’s mother any embarrassment?” Simon considered, as they were acknowledging without saying the man was illegitimate.
“Perhaps. He was happy enough to use me for his gambling, and I tried to help him by keeping Crocky happy. You may not believe it, but the amount the Devere estates paid combined with the amount I won at the tables was about what my father owed.”
“I see. And my father was aware of this?”
“I don’t know. I know Tobias was instructed by your father to send those revenues to help out his brother.”
“It seems everyone knew about this debt but me,” Simon said, trying not to sound sour.
“You were not the Earl of Lindsey at the time, and Tobias only knew he was obeying the earl and helping out his father at the same time.”
“What will your father do now?” Jenny asked, having stayed quiet.
Simon watched as this stranger turned to Jenny, and something in his profile looked so like Toby, it softened him toward Jameson Turner.
“My father will continue in the impoverished state he is in, I suppose, but at least the possibility of one of Crocky’s men seeking him out and breaking his legs, or worse, has been removed. Thanks to you, Countess.”
Jenny blushed prettily.
Simon steered the conversation back to the questions he still had. “You must have already contacted my uncle before I did, for he never even sent a return letter when I informed him of the cessation of his gambling funds.”
“I did. Better I should bear the brunt of his annoyance than you.”
Hmm. Considering where he now sat and with whom he dined, Simon wondered if he had a spy in his midst and to whom Jameson owed his allegiance.
“What about this house? I understand you bought it directly after my father died, right out from under Tobias.”
“No,” Jameson shook his head. “Not out from under him but to save it for him. Unfortunately, my half-brother had poured all his assets into helping our father, who is, I’m sorry to say, a bottomless drain. Money slips through his fingers like water.”
“Yes, I have seen his residence at South Wingfield. The scarcity of funds is obvious.”
Jameson nodded. “I heard my father suggested Lady Devere sell the hall while her husband was away. No doubt, he hoped she would give him the money from the sale.”
“How would you have heard that, living in London?” Grudgingly, Simon was warming to the fellow.
“I have kept my eyes and ears upon my younger brother always, especially after our father got him involved in the matter with Mr.
Keeble. Though sanctioned by the earl, I didn’t think it a good idea, knowing my father as I do. Despite what you think, I tried to contain the situation as best I could. In any case, I would have helped Tobias out when he returned.”
He took a sip of wine and then added, “I am saddened he did not, for I had intended to go against my father’s wishes and make myself known to my brother. In any case, I could save his house for him by buying it. At least it is still in the family.”
“Lady Devere did have some money and was in contact with you,” Simon surmised.
“Yes. I made sure she kept it all, for it was her fervent wish to return to France. I advised her to put the rest aside for her children.”
“Why, that was quite generous of you,” Jenny said. “I am sure it has not been easy to—”
However, as she broke off with a gasp and a strange look came upon her face, they would never hear what she was sure of.
Pushing back his chair, Simon was on his feet and around the table in an instant. “What’s wrong?”
“I … I’m not sure. I felt—oh, there it is again.” She placed her hands over her stomach.
His entire world narrowed down to one woman whose face looked pale and pinched.
“Are you in pain? Right now?”
She said neither yes or no. “I think I want to go home.” Her words were a whisper.
Looking to his host, who was standing now, his hands gripping the back of his chair, Simon said, “We came in a tilbury.”
The man’s brow rose, and he headed for the door. “I’ll get my carriage brought around front at once. It’s a berlin, quite comfortable.”
Just like Toby in his manner, Simon thought, as he pulled his wife’s chair out. “Can you stand?”
“Yes, it’s gone off a bit now. But, Simon,” she began and clenched the hand he held out to her. “It’s far too soon.”
“I know, my love. I’ll send for the baker’s wife anyway. Don’t worry.”
*
True to his word, nearly as soon as Jenny was settled into their bed at home, Emily entered. Simon, who was sitting on the side of the bed having carried her from Jameson’s carriage up the front steps and up the main staircase, was still breathing hard and looking rather fierce, no doubt with worry.
Beastly Lords Collection Page 36