The Defiant Lady Pencavel
Page 19
“I am both, and don’t mind either at all.” He tightened his arm around her. “We’ll soon be off so I may attend Parliament—late as I may be—in town; a London town home is being made ready for my esteemed wife. I daresay I must play the affable host for the ton, to reinforce old acquaintances for the future. If the season won’t be too arduous for you.”
“I think most of my nausea has passed.” She rubbed her stomach lovingly, thinking of gurgles and coos, and nappies she wouldn’t have to change since they could afford a nurse. “A July baby, I should think. But we can still sail to Pompeii in earliest spring, to uncover my treasure.”
“I doubt I could stop you, however, I’ll try. Remember, the war continues.” His voice grew serious, his fingers on her stiffening. “The Austrians sent another army to defeat the French, and that rapacious Corsican general, in November. Alvinczi and Davidovich prevailed at Bassano, Calliano and Caldiero in Italy. But Buonaparte defeated them at the Battle of Arcole in the middle of the month. Italy will be very treacherous.”
She mused on her discovery, the statues, the vases and jewelry. Her shoulders sagged as she stepped over a protruding tree root. “While traveling through a war torn country sounds exciting, and we can pray the war will end before then, I suppose I must be mature and think of you and the baby.”
“You’re agreeing with me? Your fall in Pompeii must have injured more than your leg.” Griffin grinned and winked. “I’ll send more trusted men over to catalog everything in the hole, and continue to protect the site.”
“And as soon as the babe is here, and I’m sure the war will be done,” she nudged her gloved knuckles into his side, “we’ll travel there ourselves.”
He sighed loudly. “I knew I couldn’t deter you for long.”
Dried twigs crackled under their feet, startling a bird who swept into the air.
“Then we’ll visit Greece and Egypt.” She beamed up at him. “I’m certain our babe will adore feta and camels.”
“Too bad Sir Arthur is too feeble to travel, but he says lecturing at the Royal Society is satisfying for him.” Griffin ducked under a low hanging branch.
Maybe the old antiquarian would invite her to attend his lectures. “And his visits to Aunt Hedra are amusing him, I imagine. I’m sure they discuss two-decades-past fashions and lament the disuse of wigs.”
They left the woods, the weak sun a welcome change, and crossed the lawn toward the mansion. Her skirt hem was soon damp in the rising mist. The air felt heavy with moisture, as if it would soon rain. The grey sky darkened even more. Thunder rolled in the distance.
A figure in black lurked at one of the house’s windows, then put a handkerchief to her nose and turned away.
“Will Mrs. Loveday ever stop weeping over our marriage?” Melwyn glared up at the now empty window with its fluttering curtain. The housekeeper was the only thorn in her new life. But she couldn’t ask Griffin to dismiss her, given his long affection for the woman. Melwyn’s generosity toward the servant gave her a little satisfaction. And she did wish to please her husband, to her own consternation. “Centuries from now she’ll haunt this place, intending to knife a ghostly me in my bed, to the pleasure of gaping tourists.”
“Don’t mind her, my dear. She’ll soften when the baby comes. It’s your abigail and my valet we need keep an eye on. Their attachment could cause complications. It’s difficult when servants wish to marry, but I’d hate to stand in their way.” Griffin tugged her into a doorway and pressed her against the door jamb. “However, at this moment, I’d rather concentrate on you, and neither of us needs body servants as we can readily undress one another.”
Melwyn’s pulse skittered when he leaned in and kissed her lips. She ran her fingers through his thick hair, over his chiseled cheeks, and kissed him back fervently. His muscled chest against her breasts sent tingles of desire throughout her. She’d savor him, her coming child, and her archeological pursuits. “I do like the sound of you undressing me, you debauched and utterly sexy cad. But could we wait until we step inside the scullery, my dearest husband?”
The End
About the Author:
Diane Parkinson (Diane Scott Lewis) writes book reviews for the Historical Novel Society and worked at The Wild Rose Press from 2007 to 2010 as a historical editor. She has two books published by Books We Love. Betrayed Countess (formally published as The False Light); and the erotica novel, Miss Grey’s Shady Lover. Set in the eighteenth century as well, this short novella is a parody of Fifty Shades of Grey.
For further information about the author, visit her website:
http://www.dianescottlewis.org
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Betrayed Countess (Books We Love Historical Romance)
Miss Grey's Shady Lover
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Table of Contents
Copyright
Dedication
Author’s Note:
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
About the Author:
Other books
About the Publisher