While he had no wish to tie her in marriage with an unworthy man, especially since her portion was extremely large and may well attract fortune hunters, he also had no wish to see her decline into a lonely old lady.
She was welcome to make her home with him and their mama for as long as she wished, but it would be even better if she could find a man who pleased her and be mistress of her own home.
The way his own dick rose whenever Theodora was near him, and the way she brought him to pleasure in her hot, silken body, almost guaranteed his nursery would be blessed with an heir sooner rather than later. But he wished such intimate pleasures for Anne with the man of their joint choosing. Anne’s husband didn’t need to be rich, since her portion was large. He did need to be well born and to care for her though, and she to care for, or at least respect, him. Such a man had not come to John’s attention in the three seasons Anne had been out. She’d never shown a partiality for any of the men who flocked to dance with her, and many men he’d thought might be estimable husband material had married other young ladies in the intervening years.
He was not precisely worried, but he did most sincerely hope a suitable marriage partner appeared soon, hopefully this Season. Mayhap someone who didn’t come to Town very often. Someone like Simeon Arnott for example. Good birth, ample means—although he did have a devil of a lot of siblings to provide for—comely face and figure, although a trifle sunburned from working out of doors, and estimable character.
Dammit, why didn’t I think of him before? We must indeed attend at homes more often.
****
A lively crowd filled the vicarage drawing room. Sapphira Arnott sat on a sofa beside the Dowager, half a dozen young men surrounding them.
Amos Arnott stood with his back to the fire, arms folded across his chest, his gaze fixed on Sapphira and the young men. I thought he was reading history at Oxford. Does he never attend class? Or has he been sent down? wondered John.
Barnabas broke away from a group of older men to welcome them into his home, finding chairs for the ladies. In the resulting shuffle Theodora ending up sitting with Georgina and Sapphira, his mama with the Dowager, and Mrs. Ridley and Anne with several young debutantes.
John and Barnabas relaxed at a distance from the fire, and he enjoyed a long talk with his oldest friend. Now that they were both married, they had more to talk about than ever, so it seemed.
“I thank the good Lord every day for giving me Georgina,” said Barnabas quietly. “I simply cannot imagine life without her. She’s everything I ever wanted and so much more.”
“I also. Your sister is the best thing to have entered my life since my own sister was born.”
“Hey what about me? Wasn’t I the best thing in your life for many years?” joked Barnabas.
“Hmm let me think about that for a while.”
“I tell Georgina I love her every day. She laughs, but I feel I must put it into words. I want her to know she’s precious to me.”
Barnabas’ words sent a shiver up his spine. He’d never actually said the words to Theodora. He loved her madly, passionately, with every breath in his body, but he’d never told her so. Of course, she’d never said those words to him either. Did that mean she didn’t love him? He thought of her in his arms at night, of the look in her eyes as she watched him from across the room. She certainly cared for him. As Cicero had said, “The eyes are the windows of the soul,” and her eyes displayed her feelings for him. But still, he owed it to her to state his love for her in words. He would do so tonight.
Changing the topic of conversation he asked, “What news with young Deborah Arnott?”
“She seems to be content at the moment with all her new studies. I’d predicted she’d elope with a half-pay officer before she made her come-out, but now that she is studying military strategy, I believe that worry is at an end. Nothing less than a Major-General will do for her nowadays.”
John laughed and they spoke of mutual friends until another group of new arrivals entered the room. Among them was Simeon Arnott, who drew Georgina aside for a quiet, private conversation before he mingled with the group.
People came and left, some staying only the designated half hour, others lingering much longer. John enjoyed himself talking to various cronies, but after an hour thought he’d better collect his womenfolk and make their farewells. He looked around the room. His mama was still chatting to the Dowager and Mrs. Ridley. Theodora was sitting with Georgina, and Anne was staring up into Simeon Arnott’s face with an intense, arrested look. Simeon appeared to be equally taken with Anne.
John had to almost physically prevent himself from shouting with joy. Oh yes!
****
Their dinner that night was a simple one, as they had to leave early to attend a musicale. John very much feared it would be nothing but a lot of barely talented daughters playing the pianoforte or harp poorly, with the possibility of a screeching soprano to further torment his eardrums.
It wasn’t quite that bad, but it in no way inspired him to attend such an event again in the near future. Besides, all he wanted to do was take Theodora to bed and tell her he loved her. Tell her she was precious to him. And, hopefully, hear her repeat the words to him.
It was hard to believe he’d never said them, yet he knew he hadn’t and the words “I love you” needed to be said as soon as possible.
Unfortunately, her mind seemed to be running on a different track. Once they were alone, just as he was getting ready to drop on one knee and tell her of his adoration for her, she asked tentatively, “May I ask you a question? I’m afraid it’s not at all ladylike, but Mama wouldn’t answer it for me.”
“Of course.” He was confused, but willing.
“Have I ever mentioned my friend Patience to you? The one who married Farmer Entwhistle?”
If he’d been confused before, he was completely confounded now. He had no idea in which direction her mind was going. “I think so. She has several small children.”
“Yes, that’s her. She was very beautiful at age seventeen when she married him. Now, five years later, she has four children, she’s always tired, and she looks forty years old.”
She seemed to expect him to respond. He had no idea what to say, so settled for, “Ahh.”
“I’ve heard there’s something called a French letter that will stop a woman having a baby. Can you tell me about them?”
She was blushing furiously. Her face and neck, even her ears, were bright red. She looked adorable and his dick was demanding he take her to bed right now, but for some reason this Patience woman was important to her, so he answered her question.
“Women in bawdy houses use them to prevent pregnancy. As do some noblemen with their mistresses. Casanova is said to have always used one. A French letter is a sheath made of sheep’s intestines, which the man ties over his cock so the seed stays inside the sheath instead of making a baby in the woman.”
“Oh. Why must they not be spoken of? Why don’t women know about them?”
Now it was his turn to blush. “Theodora, you must understand I’ve never used one, but I know men who have, and still do. Some men say they make the experience less pleasurable for both man and woman. Although I suspect Casanova did not find it so. Other men believe it is wrong to prevent pregnancy, and it’s not a thing a woman can do in secret, like take herbal concoctions to prevent babies.”
“There are herbs that stop a woman increasing?”
“So I’ve been told. But that is woman’s lore and not something I know much about. It could be not that Patience hasn’t heard of French letters, but that her husband does not approve. French letters are also quite expensive.”
She nodded and looked thoughtful, then said, “To take herbs and prevent a baby might not please the husband if he found out either. Such secrets could be very hard to keep besides being quite deceitful. I expect such decisions should be made together, in which case a French letter would be a better solution. And surely they are much chea
per than the cost of rearing a child.”
“I agree. Will you tell her about them?”
“Oh yes. Both she and Farmer Entwhistle might be quite eager to have a few years of peace before there’s another baby, and if they haven’t heard of such things or can’t afford them, I would like to help Patience. Um—”
John couldn’t prevent the huge smile that broke out over his face as he read in her eyes her next question. “Yes, my love, I daresay I could buy some French letters to give your friend. Now, may we talk about us?”
She fixed her beautiful eyes on his as if asking him a question.
Just as he’d waited all evening to do, he dropped onto one knee as he’d done the day he proposed, took both her hands in his, and said with all sincerity, “Theodora, I love you. I’ve loved you since you were a schoolgirl and I love you even more now. For years I waited for you to grow up. When you finally made your come-out, I was so happy to see you. For a few brief months I was misled by the dazzling Sapphira Arnott, but then I understood I’d never stopped loving you and had never loved her. I was just bewitched by her beauty. It’s you I’ve always loved.”
“You love me?”
“I do.”
His arms were suddenly full of hot woman as she flung herself against him and kissed his lips, sliding her tongue into his mouth and rubbing her body against his. “I love you too. I’ve loved you since I was a little girl and always dreamed that one day you’d love me in return.”
“Well dammit. What are we doing standing here fully dressed for then?”
“We managed to do it fully dressed once before,” she replied with a very naughty gleam in her eyes.
“So we did.” He scooped her up in his arms and dropped her onto the bed, climbing on top of her before she could move. Then he started kissing her in earnest.
The End
www. berengariabrown.webs.com
Other Books by Berengaria Brown:
Three For The Road
Feels So Good
Strung Tight
Turning Up the Heat
The Vicar's Virgin
Twice the Love
Evernight Publishing
www.evernightpublishing.com
Almost a Virgin (Virgins No More) Page 6