Viola responded wildly as he feverishly sought every possible means of exciting her. She did not care that her gown was in an unsightly bunch around her waist. She did not care that her hair was a riot of tangled curls, or that tears were streaming from her eyes. “You must have missed me very much indeed to come all this way,” she observed gleefully as he paused briefly to pull his coat, waistcoat, and coat over his head all in one piece.
“Not at all, I assure you,” he replied, watching her dark eyes for that answering glint as his hand slipped between her thighs. “Did you miss me?”
“Mr Devize, I haven’t thought of you in years,” she answered, her eyes half-closed as she melted again beneath his touch.
Julian laughed softly. “Liar,” he breathed, stretching out beside her. “You think of nothing else. You think of me constantly. Admit it.”
She stretched languorously. “No, never.”
“You missed me,” he insisted, excited by the half smile playing on her lips. “Look at you. You want me even now.”
She sighed, wriggling her hips as his hand continued to pleasure her. Reclining next to her, he claimed her breast with his mouth, suckling and nuzzling.
“Did you imagine me touching you like this?” he asked.
Viola could only gasp as she edged closer to climax.
“Show me,” he commanded, withdrawing his hand. “Show me how you missed me,” he explained, as she looked at him in confusion. “You touch yourself, don’t you?”
Viola’s eyes widened in shock. “Of course not.”
“I think you do. You think of me, and you touch yourself. Admit it.”
Viola blushed hotly.
“Show me,” he insisted, guiding her hand to the spot. “Show me, and I’ll let you have it,” he added, unbuttoning his trousers. He watched, amused by her embarrassment as she struggled with the choice he had given her.
“I can’t,” she finally whispered.
“Why not, my sweet?” he asked gently, stroking her hair from her eyes.
“It’s private.”
He laughed softly. “It doesn’t get much more private than this, my love. Close your eyes and pretend you are alone if that helps. You want me, don’t you?”
“Not very much,” she said weakly.
“I’ll help you,” he murmured, taking her hand and placing it on the spot. “That’s it,” he whispered against her skin as, tentatively, she began caressing herself. Her hand was so unsure that he could almost believe she had never done so before. But, as he began to murmur encouragement and stroke her breasts, she became more efficient. With soft cries, she reached her crisis, and, at the same moment, he kept his promise. He let her have it, driving into her body with one exultant stroke.
Brief and brutal as the final act was, Viola stole another climax just before he collapsed in her arms. Julian heard the heavens clash. Thunder rolled. The earth shattered into a million pieces. He damn near died.
“What was that?” cried Viola, panting.
“I told you it wasn’t over,” he said, sucking the taste of her kiss from his lips.
“No, Dev,” she cried, jumping out of bed and making a frantic search for her clothes. “I heard a noise. It sounded like glass breaking. Lady Caroline!”
“It is not as bad as I thought,” a surprisingly well-groomed Viola greeted Lucy in the hall when Julian returned with the latter from Cross Mere. “There was an awful lot of blood at first, but it was only the tiniest little cut, as it turns out. I’ve cleaned it and bandaged it. I don’t think we need trouble Dr Chadwick again.”
Distraught, Lucy pushed past her and ran upstairs. There was an earsplitting scream as she discovered her mother’s condition. Shocked, Viola and Julian flashed up the stairs after her. Lady Caroline was seated on the floor of her room, cradling a whisky jug in her arms like a baby. Completely untroubled by her bandaged hand, she was suckling vigorously.
“Drunk as a wheelbarrow,” said Julian.
“I only left her alone for two minutes while I combed my hair!” Viola said incredulously.
“Let’s face it, Miss Andrews,” said Julian, squeezing her waist. “As a nurse-companion, you’re a complete failure. Miss Rampling, I recommend you turn her off without a character. She’s very ill-suited for her present position. I’ve a much better place for her in London.”
Viola was white with anger. “Never!” she said, moving away from him.
Julian scowled. “What do you mean, never? Go and pack your things. I’ve been away from London too long as it is.”
“I will never go to London with you!” Viola declared.
“Indeed, sir!” Lucy said, rounding on him angrily. “You have imposed on my friend enough. She does not wish to see you.”
“Is that so?” he drawled.
“I am aware,” Lucy said coldly, “of the position you have in mind for her, and, I tell you, Mr Julian, it will not do! My friend deserves better. I must beg you to leave this house and never return. Go, sir!”
Below them, voices reverberated in the hall. “What the devil is going on?” Cornelius Rampling demanded, starting up the stairs with his cloak still around his shoulders. “Mr Devize said you left Cross Mere very suddenly, Lucy. Well? What is the matter?”
“Lady Caroline is perfectly all right,” Viola hastened to assure him. “She was trying to escape out of the window, and she had a little accident and cut herself. Oh, only a nick,” she added quickly. “In fact, her ladyship is in very high spirits at the moment. I daresay, she won’t remember any of this in the morning.”
“Oh, I see,” said Cornelius, taking the hint. “In spite of her injury, her spirits are good. Wonderful! Well, Mr Julian, I am obliged to you for seeing Lucy home. Would you be good enough to find your way out? This is a private, family matter.”
“Perhaps Miss Andrews will see me out?” Julian suggested.
“Good night, Mr Julian,” Lucy said firmly, drawing Viola into her mother’s bedroom.
“I’ll call in the morning, then, shall I?”
“Don’t bother!” Viola said sharply. “You should go back to London, Mr Julian. There is nothing for you here.” So saying, she closed the door in his face.
Slowly, the cheeky grin left Julian’s face. For the life of him, he could not understand how a woman could run hot one moment, then cold the next. One day, she was promising to be his forever, come what may; the next she had abandoned him to take the perfectly ludicrous position of nurse-companion to the mother of all lushes. One moment they were making love on the rug. Next, she was giving him the brush-off. Women!
As he made his way back downstairs, Bijou suddenly skidded across the marble floor. Julian was glad to see her, but not half as glad as she was to see him. Being a dog, she saw no reason to deny her unconditional love for him. Wagging her tail joyously, she scrambled madly across the floor to get to him.
“Hullo!” he said, smiling at her.
“Well, Perdita!” cried Lord Cheviot, entering his wife’s boudoir without knocking. He seemed not to know that he was taking his life into his hands. “Perhaps you would care to explain why you chose to lock me back in Miss Shipley’s room? The poor woman was hysterical. I think you owe her an apology.”
Perdita’s blood boiled as she thought of the smug look on Miss Shipley’s face. “Who let you out?” she demanded.
“No one let me out,” he said angrily. “I had to break the door. How am I going to explain that to the duke’s agent? Madam, you and your children have done at least twenty-five pounds in damage to this house in the past two years. Don’t blame me when we are evicted!”
“How long has Miss Shipley been your mistress?” Perdita demanded.
“My what? Don’t be ridiculous.”
Perdita’s hairbrush flew out of her hand and sailed across the room. “What am I supposed to think? She was in bed with her clothes half off, smirking at me.”
“She has a facial tic!” Tony said indignantly. “Have you no compassion?”
“No, I popped her buttons,” he explained. “That is, I unbuttoned them. She fainted. I simply loosened her constrictive clothing. Constrictive clothing is very bad, I think.”
“You have an explanation for everything,” she glowered. “But why, my lord, were you in her room in the first place? I mean, I know very well why you were there, but I’d love to hear you invent an excuse. I daresay it will make me laugh!”
Tony sighed. “You won’t believe me,” he said tightly, “but the baby lost her velveteen rabbit, and Miss Shipley and I were looking for it. Hannah can’t sleep without her rabbit. You know that.”
“You’re right,” said his lady. “I don’t believe you! I saw Hannah, and she had her rabbit with her. His name is Rollo, by the way. You’d know that if you were any kind of a father.”
“Faugh!” said Tony.
Perdita glared at him. “What did you say to me?”
Tony glared back at her. “I said, I’m going out to the garden for a smoke!”
“That,” said Perdita, “is what I thought you said. And don’t bother coming to my bed tonight! Your services will not be required, my lord.”
“There’s no need,” Tony said caustically, “to state the obvious.”
Turning on his heel, he walked out, letting the door slam behind him.
“I never trusted the Shipley woman,” declared Lady Cheviot’s maid, coming out of the closet in which she had been eavesdropping. “These governesses are all alike, slipping into bed with the master every chance they get.”
“She’s not even pretty!” cried Perdita.
“Of course not, milady. You’d never be so foolish as to hire a pretty governess.”
The door opened, and Perdita flung her face cream at the man who entered. The jar struck the doorjamb, leaving an ugly mark.
“Shall I come back when it’s safe?” Alex asked gravely.
Perdita covered her eyes with her hands. “Oh, I’m sorry, Alex. I thought you were Tony, my faithless, philandering, soon-to-be former husband!”
Alex wasn’t listening. “Did you know Julian would be here tonight?” he asked abruptly.
Perdita glared at him, exasperated. “Julian? No. I was completely surprised. Why?”
“How does Julian know Miss Rampling?” Alex demanded. “What exactly is the relationship there?”
“I neither know nor care!” Perdita snapped. “My husband has taken a mistress, and she is my governess! I just found out.”
“What?” he said, grimacing in confusion.
“I caught them together in her room. It completely ruined my ball.”
“Tony and the governess?” he repeated incredulously. “She’s not even pretty!”
“I know! He might at least have the decency to keep his mistress in London. How long do you think this has been going on right under my nose?”
Alex sat down. “This is incredible. He’s admitted to it?”
“No, of course not,” said his sister. “He claims that Henry, of all people, locked him in! His own son! He says he was only looking for Rollo—you know, the bunny Hannah cuddles at night—in Miss Shipley’s room. A likely story.”
“What does Henry say?” Alex asked sharply.
Perdita stared. “I am not going to accuse my son without evidence,” she said. “Henry’s obviously innocent! He was sound asleep when I checked on him. He couldn’t have done it.”
“Oh, couldn’t he?” Alex said grimly.
Chapter Twenty
Lucy’s sleep was filled with strange dreams that night. She dreamed that Alex kissed her on the deck of a great ship traveling to exotic lands. Then he kissed her at the top of Mount Vesuvius. The pyramids of Egypt whirled by as he kissed her in a golden sandstorm. She was kissed on tropical islands and sparkling white beaches. She was kissed in the Hanging Gardens of Babylon. She was kissed locally, too, in the New Forest, on the village green, in a punt on the river, and, rather shockingly, behind the baptismal font in the village church.
She woke up, trembling. Viola, dressed in her scarlet riding habit, was opening the curtains. Outside the sky was brilliant. “Did you enjoy your ride?” Lucy said, sitting up and stretching her arms over her head.
“I haven’t been riding,” Viola said, wringing her hands. “Oh, Lucy!” she cried, flinging herself on the bed. “Bijou has been kidnapped!”
“Viola, calm yourself,” Lucy urged. “It’s quite a big house, you know. She must be here somewhere. You cannot really imagine that someone has kidnapped your dog.”
“Oh, but he has, the low-down, dirty buccaneer!” Viola insisted.
There was no need for her to tell Lucy who “he” was.
“This came for me at dawn from Cross Mere,” said Viola, handing Lucy a scrap of brown paper. “It is a ransom note.”
“It is a laundry list,” Lucy corrected her gently.
“The other side!” cried Viola, turning the paper over.
“Oh, I see,” Lucy murmured. “‘If you ever want to see Mop again,’” she began to read.
“That is what he calls Bijou,” Viola said bitterly. Springing up from the bed, she stalked the room, whipping her riding crop against her skirts. “Oh, how I hate him!”
“‘If you ever want to see Mop again, you will bring my ring to me at Cross Mere,’” Lucy read with growing horror. “‘I will be waiting for you at the Italian Fountain at ten o’clock. If you are late, I will take her to London in your stead, and you will never see her again.’”
She dropped the note in astonishment. “It is a ransom note!”
“Oh, my poor Bijou! He would not hurt her, do you think?”
“Mr Julian seems to be capable of anything,” Lucy said grimly.
“He is,” said Viola. “I confess it is what attracted me to him in the first place.”
“Do you have his ring?” Lucy asked sensibly. “He seems to want it back rather badly.”
Viola shuddered. “That ghastly emerald he bought me in London! The most hideous jewel man ever inflicted upon woman! Green is the color of jealousy, for heaven’s sake!”
“Then you do have it? Viola, you must give it back.”
Viola scowled at her. “Are you on his side now?”
“Of course not,” Lucy said quickly. “What he has done is unforgivable—obviously. But if you give him his ring back, perhaps he will stop tormenting you. It does seem to be the simplest way to get your dog back. And she is the most important thing, is she not?”
Viola drew herself up to her full height. “I do not negotiate with dog thieves!”
“You needn’t negotiate,” Lucy said soothingly. “Just give him his ring back.”
“I can’t,” said Viola. “I don’t have it. I threw it away.”
Lucy stared. “You threw it away?”
“It was ugly,” Viola explained. “I wanted a diamond. I was very clear on that point. I should have known then that he was no good. You know what my trouble is, Lucy? I can’t admit when I’m wrong. There is a part of me that—even now—still wants to believe in him.” She snatched up the ransom note. “When I found this, I actually thought it might contain some satisfactory explanation of his behavior. Yes! I thought that some beastly note, scrawled on the back of a laundry list, might actually make everything all right! I’m such a fool.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Well, I’m going to get my dog back,” Viola declared. “I shall have to meet the bastard, of course. You and I will ride over to Cross Mere together. You have to visit Lady Cheviot anyway, to thank her for the glorious time you had at the ball. You did have a glorious time, didn’t you?”
“Yes, of course,” Lucy fibbed.
“Good. While I distract Julian at the fountain, you will sneak into the house and rescue Bijou. Hurry up and get dressed.”
“What!” cried Lucy. “You expect me to search Lady Cheviot’s house?”
“Not to split hairs, but it’s actually m
y brother’s house,” said Viola.
“What about Mama?”
“Lucy! I can’t ask your mother to search Lady Cheviot’s house.”
“I mean we cannot leave my mother alone.”
“Cornelius can sit with her. It’s high time he took more responsibility for Lady Caroline anyway. Please, Lucy! She’s only a puppy. He’s probably pulling her ears right now.”
Lucy paled. “He wouldn’t!”
“You said yourself he’s capable of anything!”
“What am I supposed to say if someone sees me poking around Cross Mere?”
“You attended a ball there last night,” Viola reminded her. “Say you left your fan or your handkerchief or something. They’ll let you look for it.”
“In the bachelors’ quarters?”
“Lucy, I need you,” Viola said seriously. “Bijou needs you. Don’t go wobbly on us!”
“Oh, all right!” Lucy said crossly, climbing out of bed. “I’ll do it.”
Lucy was not an accomplished horsewoman, which made it necessary for the two ladies to travel to Cross Mere by road, rather than by taking the shortcut across the meadow; Lucy could no more jump a fence than she could fly.
“You must learn to ride properly, Lucy,” Viola said irritably. “We’d be there by now if we could cut across the fields. If I am late, I may lose Bijou forever!”
“I suppose I could try jumping,” Lucy offered, eyeing the hedges doubtfully.
“If you broke your neck, then I really would be late,” Viola pointed out.
Condemned to the narrow lanes between the hedgerows, Lucy and Viola picked their way through gaggles of geese and herds of cattle and sheep before arriving at Cross Mere. The boundary between the two estates was marked by the Folly. As they rode between the two towers, Viola could reach up and just touch the underside of the parapet with her riding crop.
The house at Cross Mere was a large red brick structure of the Queen Anne variety, completely unremarkable. It was so unappetizing, architecturally speaking, that Viola marveled that tenants had been found for it. Lucy led her around to the stables.
“Good morning, Miss Lucy,” said the groom as he came forward to take charge of the horses. “You’re here early, and thank goodness, too, with Miss Shipley on her way out and no one to mind Master Henry and Miss Elizabeth.”
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