Love Regency Style

by Samantha Holt

  Lady Charlotte regarded the earl for a moment and then turned her attention to Joshua. His expression gave her no hint as to how he felt about the situation, and he had shown no signs of asking for her hand despite the time they had spent together. They had shared a few kisses—one near the lake and then again yesterday morning. They had shared a bed, but rather platonically, the past two nights. But Joshua had said nothing to indicate a marriage was in their future. The conver­sations they had shared were also devoid of the subject.

  Then she remembered her comment about how many children he might want—As many as you want—and realized just then what he meant when he inferred he had been court­ing her.

  Had he said that merely to appease her? Perhaps the scar on my back reminds him too much of his own, she thought sud­denly, a sadness creeping over her. She had wanted him for a husband ever since his brother’s death. Even before, if she were honest with herself.

  She returned her gaze to the earl and had to admit she was attracted to his strong demeanor, his dark hair and dangerous looks. She had expected him to be his uncle—much older, a cripple even. Instead he was Henry Forster, young and quite masculine. He had followed her from London. The thought had her suddenly feeling wanted.

  What will he think of my scar? she wondered then. Will he be so repulsed as to withdraw his claim and offer?

  “I believe I would, my lord …”

  “Gisborn, please,” the earl interrupted, his heavy-lidded eyes becoming more so.

  “But perhaps, Gisborn,” she continued, saying his name as if she were trying it on her tongue for the first time, “It would be advisable for us to spend some time discovering if we would be a suitable match.”

  Joshua had to still his entire body at that moment in order to keep himself from grabbing onto Lady Charlotte and pull­ing her against him. He recognized his impulse for what it was—jealousy. He wanted Charlotte Bingham for himself, although he knew he wouldn’t be completely satisfied unless she wanted him the same way. “Perhaps Lady Charlotte would agree to take a walk in the back gardens with you,” Joshua sug­gested, the words nearly sticking in his throat. “It would give you a chance to get to know one another.” He heard Charlotte’s breath catch and hoped Gisborn didn’t.

  Charlotte finally turned to give him a glance, her anger changing to something else. “Why, of course, if Your Grace does not mind me taking time away from my task,” she replied, a bit too sweetly.

  Joshua recognized the tone, but decided against chiding her in front of their guest. “I wouldn’t have made the sugges­tion if I minded,” he countered with a mischievous grin.

  A bit wary, Gisborn eyed Joshua before turning his atten­tion to Charlotte. He nodded once. “It is a lovely day, and not one that should be spent toiling away indoors. Would you do me the honor of taking a turn in the gardens?” he asked, his hands behind his back as he made his request.

  Taken aback by the earl’s formal manner, Charlotte nod­ded in turn. “I would like that very much, Gisborn,” she replied with not a hint of sarcasm. The earl gave her a warm smile, which did everything to make him all that more handsome. He held out an arm to her and she placed her hand on it.

  “Should I call for your maid to join you?” Joshua asked, wondering if Charlotte wanted the security of a chaperone.

  “That won’t be necessary. We’ll just be in the gardens,” she replied, again with the sweet voice. She dropped the stack of swatches on a nearby table and, with a swish of her skirts, was soon out the door on the arm of the earl.

  Joshua took a breath and held it for several seconds. He had only himself to blame, but for the next hour or so, he would feel agony knowing Charlotte was alone in his gardens with the Earl of Gisborn.

  Chapter 23

  Mr. McElliott Makes Arrangements

  The sense of disorientation Garrett felt when he opened his eyes dissipated quickly as he took in the scent of the naked woman pressed against his side, her head tucked into the space between his neck and shoulder. He inhaled deeply, allowing the scent of rose and silken hair to tickle his nose as he moved to kiss her forehead.

  A giggle burbled up from Jane as she reached down with a finger to stroke his tumescence. “Are you always so … eager in the morning?” she asked in a teasing voice.

  Garrett reached down and captured her hand in his, press­ing it against his manhood as he let out his own chuckle. “I believe this is all your fault, madame, and will be my fate every morning for the rest of our days,” he accused in reply, his heavy lidded eyes making him look as if he was about to fall asleep again.

  “Indeed?” Jane purred, her fingers wrapping around his cock, causing Garrett to open his eyes a bit wider. A growl escaped his lips, and when Jane didn’t pull her hand away, Garrett inhaled deeply as he lifted himself onto one elbow. Although he wasn’t yet fully awake, he could tell her breasts were full, their nipples erect and dusky rose in the early morn­ing light.

  Jane breathed in deeply, her chest rising erotically before she whispered, “I am yours.”

  Garrett needed no other invitation. Climbing atop her, he leaned down and kissed her fully on the lips. When he sensed her legs spreading apart and felt her thighs pressing against the side of his hips, he held himself over her body, pausing a bit to take in the sight of her. Her breasts were fuller, rounder he was sure, as he watched her writhe into place beneath him. As she watched him through lowered lashes, he entered her slowly, felt her wetness surround him, felt her grip him, felt her entire body trembling before he thrust his cock deep into her.

  Jane arched her back as the warm sensation of fullness filled her lower body, her long throat exposed completely to Garrett’s tongue and lips. His motions were careful but delib­erate, teasing her as he tasted her skin, as he felt her heat sear­ing his skin where they touched. Garrett pushed into her and then pulled out, repeating his rhythmic movements slowly to make it last as long as possible.

  Her lips took purchase on one of his nipples, though, and with the gentle suckling and the stroking of her fingers down the sides of his torso, Garrett could no longer hold back. As he pushed into her as hard and as fast as he could, the release he felt was intense and seemed to consume his entire body. He nearly yelled out as Jane arched her back in response to his body’s wave of pleasure, her thighs gripping him tightly. He forced his mouth onto one of her shoulders to stifle the growl emanating from his throat. He heard her soft cries and quickened breathing and finally felt her body shudder and melt under him. He relaxed, all his energy expended and the last vestiges of his climax waning.

  Lowering himself onto her and collapsing in exhaustion, Garrett allowed his head to rest on Jane’s shoulder as he felt her fingers wind themselves into his hair on the back of his head and lightly stroke his back. Sleep took them both for a blissful time as they held one another.

  When the sounds from the street below woke them, Gar­rett untangled himself from the bed linens and from Jane, moaning as he did so. He kissed her, his thumb passing over her plump lower lip before rolling onto his side.

  “The movers will be here to load your furniture at one,” he murmured sleepily. “Do you need help packing the small items?” he asked, scrubbing his stubbled face with an open palm. “I just have to go to hospital to see the Binghams some­time this morning and then pick up a package for Lady Char­lotte at ten.” He had returned from his dealings with the solici­tor the day before with a number of small wooden crates and two large trunks. His visit to a London drayage company had resulted in an arrangement whereby several wagons would be loaded with Jane’s possessions that afternoon and driven to Wisborough Oaks for arrival sometime the next afternoon. To ensure a timely delivery and extra care for her furniture, Garrett tipped the dispatcher and the driver and explained there would be more recompense once the items were safely unloaded and moved into the dowager cottage at Wisborough Oaks.

  Jane stretched, her arms straightening over her head as her body writhed next to his. A nipple peeked
out from the edge of the quilt and Garrett took the opportunity to kiss it, his hand cupping the mounded breast as he did so. Startled, Jane inhaled sharply as her hands went to his head, her fingers rak­ing through the thick, dark hair. When she didn’t immediately answer, Garrett lifted his head and turned his attention to her face. The area around her eye had cleared, the purple bruise having turned a bit green and sunk to just above her cheek­bone. He kissed her cheekbone carefully and moved the back of his hand to push the hair from her face. “You still wish to come with me, don’t you?” he wondered then, fearing she may have changed her mind about moving to Wisborough Oaks.

  Jane’s eyes widened. “Of course!” she answered, a smile finally appearing. She kissed him then, a light, feather of a kiss that had him closing his eyes and moaning playfully. She won­dered if their mornings in the cottage would be like this, the two of them naked and tangled in the bedclothes with each other. Perhaps they would wear nightclothes in the winter.

  Garrett grinned. “I wish we were already married,” he murmured.

  Jane regarded him with a cocked eyebrow, the elegant arch of it causing Garrett to trace it with the tip of a finger. “And why is that?” she whispered, moving her body so she lay atop him.

  He considered his answer for a moment. “If we were already married, I wouldn’t feel so damned guilty about hav­ing my way with you.”

  A slow smile appeared to brighten her face. “Garrett McElliott,” she spoke quietly. “I, Jane Anne Wethersby, take thee to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sick­ness and in health, to love, cherish, and to obey, till death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance; and thereto I give thee my troth.”

  Garrett regarded her with widened eyes. “Me, too,” he responded before kissing her thoroughly on the lips.

  Chapter 24

  The Earl of Gisborn Courts Lady Charlotte

  “Have you been here at Wisborough Oaks long?” Gisborn asked as he began his private conversation with Lady Char­lotte. They had just stepped out of the back door of the house and were making their way along the flagstone path to the gardens that lay to the south of the house. Charlotte hadn’t excused herself to fetch a bonnet or pelisse, and he wondered if there would be enough shade in the garden to protect her fair skin. He nearly asked, but decided their initial meeting was too fraught with tension. Her prickly behavior could quickly return if she thought he was second-guessing her on the simple matter of a missing bonnet.

  He was aware Charlotte had been looking in his direction for some time, quickly averting her eyes whenever he turned to look at her. But with his question, she did make eye contact with him.

  “I arrived last week,” she replied, making sure to keep her voice as neutral as possible. Charlotte felt his arm tense under her hand, sensed his disapproval in the way he carried his body. He is so different from how I knew him in Society! Henry Forester was a handsome, friendly, and pleasant man. But the Earl of Gisborn was suddenly darkly handsome, dangerous almost, and his manner was most unpleasant. She wondered if the friend from last year and the acquaintance from her youth was still in there somewhere.

  “Did you come at the invitation of the duke?” he wondered then, a hint of jealousy apparent in his voice even though he tried to keep a conversational tone.

  Charlotte allowed herself to smile just then, deciding it wasn’t so awful for a man to show interest in her. Even if he did want a marriage and she didn’t. “Not at all,” she said with a shake of his head. “His Grace was quite gracious to receive me, though, since I hadn’t sent word ahead.”

  “And why was that?” Gisborn countered, a bit too quickly, his dark brows furrowing into either anger or concern, Char­lotte couldn’t tell.

  Inhaling slowly, Charlotte was about to reply it was really none of his business, but in the spirit of their time together, she instead said, “I have an obligation to this duchy. My twenty-first birthday is Saturday, and I was under the impression I was to be wedded to His Grace.” She felt Gisborn’s arm tense again.

  “I see,” he answered, his face suddenly taking on a look of disappointment Charlotte found … charming, somehow. They had just entered the garden closest to the house and took the path that led to the right. “And do you … want to be wedded to him?” he wondered, the words coming out before he could stop them. “Forgive me, it’s not my place …”

  “I did. I have wanted it for as long as I can remember,” Charlotte interrupted. “I have spent my entire life expecting to be the Duchess of Chichester, after spending a few years as the Countess of Grinstead, of course,” she explained, referring to the time she thought she would be married to John.

  Gisborn heard her words, and took heart in how she replied, ‘I did’—not ‘I do’.

  Perhaps there was hope for their union, after all.

  “Have you changed your mind because of what happened to the Wainwrights?” he asked then. “Did you feel … affec­tion for the elder brother?” Although he only knew of John Wainwright II through his reputation as a rake and a gambler,

  Gisborn thought perhaps Charlotte had been attracted to the older brother. Women always seemed to drawn to the danger­ous ones, he considered, never once putting himself into that category.

  “I felt no affection for John, nor would I want to have been married to him,” Charlotte nearly spat out. “He made his posi­tion on the terms of our marriage quite clear several years ago.”

  Surprised at her vehement response, Gisborn thought it best to change the subject. “But you do feel something for His Grace.” They had come upon a stone bench and Gisborn paused to allow Charlotte to sit down before he joined her, careful to keep a respectful distance between them.

  Charlotte soured at hearing the statement, her current feelings for the duke not so charitable. Why couldn’t Joshua have simply asked for her hand and obtained a license when she first arrived? They could be married this Saturday, and Gisborn would have no claim! She could be married to the only man for whom she had ever felt affection! Damn him! “I … I do not know my feelings on the matter,” she answered, realizing the words were very close to the truth. “Tell me, my lord …”

  “Gisborn, please,” he interrupted gently. “I would prefer you call me ‘Gisborn’.”

  Nodding, Charlotte wondered if she should grant him the same courtesy, but decided to continue her question. “Tell me, Gisborn, have you ever been married?”

  Frowning, the earl shook his head. “No. I’ve just turned thirty last month.”

  Charlotte straightened. “So, you are just now seeking to marry?” she clarified, an eyebrow cocking in a manner sug­gesting she thought he had spent his last ten or more years fre­quenting brothels and gaming hells. She didn’t really believe that; the man she knew seemed very honorable and not one to gamble. “Tell me, Gisborn. How many children have you fathered?”

  Gisborn inhaled sharply and let his breath out slowly, but there wasn’t a hint of anger in his face as Charlotte expected. “I had … responsibilities …” He let go of her hand and clasped both of his hands together, his forearms resting on muscular thighs that strained his breeches. “My uncle has been ill for many years. I have been in Oxfordshire overseeing his proper­ties … my properties,” he corrected himself with a sigh. “I have never taken the time to spend an entire Season in London to seek a wife.”

  Noting his manner of clasping his hands together, Char­lotte did the same. “I apologize. Having spent …”

  “I have a son,” he stated then, his eyes looking straight ahead. He was quiet for a long moment, but Charlotte could tell he wanted to say something more, so she didn’t speak. “Nathaniel is ten. Although his mother refused to marry me, I have seen to his every need since before he was born,” he finally added, exhaling as if he’d been holding his breath for several minutes.

  Charlotte knew she should have been repulsed at the thought of Gisborn having an illegitimate child, b
ut she found she couldn’t be if the man was providing funds for his care. Suddenly questioning her first impressions of him, she caught her lower lip with a tooth. “May I ask why his mother would refuse you?” He had an affaire with a married woman, was her first thought.

  Not expecting such a calm response, Gisborn turned his attention back to Charlotte. “She was not born to our class,” he stammered, his face so sad, Charlotte had to look away. When she did so, he added, “I fell in love, you see. I was just home from Eton, about to leave for Oxford, and Sarah and I … I’ve known her since we were in leading strings … despite every­thing my father had told me growing up, I thought it would be possible for the two of us to marry. But Sarah was far wiser than me. I have had to be satisfied with her being merely … my lover,” he said quietly, saying the words as if he had never spoken—perhaps never even thought—of Sarah in that regard before. “And, so I seek a wife. I need a legitimate heir.”

  There was a long silence before Charlotte reached over to put a hand on his. He had spoken of Sarah as if he still loved her. Perhaps he still did. She had borne him a son, and yet the boy could never take his place as the next Earl of Gisborn. “And why me?” she whispered. I am doomed to unrequited love, she realized suddenly. To Gisborn for certain and to Joshua … perhaps.

  Gisborn sat up straight, surprised by the question. “Your father didn’t …?” At Charlotte’s shake of her head, he furrowed his brows and shook his own head in disbelief.

  Charlotte leaned forward. “As you know, he had an acci­dent and has been in a coma for over a week,” she whispered. “I believe he was trying to tell me of his arrangement with you when the accident happened.” No wonder Father was so angry. He had signed over the deed to Ellsworth Park thinking I would marry Gisborn! Dismayed, Charlotte wondered at her father’s logic. He had no direct heirs, so Nicholas, her cousin, stood to inherit everything. Giving the unentailed land to Gisborn meant Nicholas wouldn’t have access to it—thus preventing him from selling it off for funds to pay gambling debts. Then my sons would benefit.