“You aren’t going anywhere, madam,” Sedgemere said, finishing with the handkerchief and tossing it in the direction of his boots. He’d wash that handkerchief himself and treasure it all his days. “I will expire if you abandon me for the pleasures of a brisk swim, for any pleasures save those available in my embrace.”
Anne rolled to her side, giving him her back. “You would have to carry me to the lake, Elias. Even a dozen steps are beyond me. What a formidable lover you are.”
Elias. Freely given, affectionately rendered. The last of the frustration resulting from their truncated joining slipped away. Sedgemere tucked himself around his lady and flipped the quilt over them.
“When I think of the days I’ve wasted flying kites and skipping rocks,” he said, nuzzling her nape. “Stewarding sheep races, for pity’s sake.”
“Every duke needs a talent to fall back on when the title pales,” Anne replied, kissing his forearm. “You will be the foremost steward in all the realm for sheep races.”
Anne had explained to the boys how to jockey a sheep, waved her hat madly to inspire the sheep to complete the racecourse, and hoisted Ralph into Sedgemere’s arms at the conclusion of the contest. From there, Sedgemere had naturally put the boy on his shoulders and lost the last remaining bit of his heart into Anne Faraday’s keeping.
Her inherent kindness extended even to taking care of male hopes and dreams, to nurturing the tender male ego.
“Stewarding sheep races is indeed a demanding and much sought-after profession,” Sedgemere said. “Might I also aspire to become the steward of your heart, Anne?”
Her posture remained the same, sprawled on her side, her bum tucked into the lee of Sedgemere’s body, her cheek pillowed on his biceps, her feet tucked between his calves.
The moment changed, nonetheless, and Sedgemere wasn’t quite sure how. Did that stillness mean he had her full attention, or that she was poised to march off into the night?
“You already have my heart, Sedgemere. You had it the moment you noticed that Helen Trimble regards me as if I were the evidence of a passing goose on the bottom of her shoe. You had it when you lent me your teams all the way up from Nottinghamshire. You had it when I saw how protective you are of Hardcastle, though he hardly needs protecting. You had it when you realized your boys are in want of encouragement.”
Sedgemere was encouraged, for this litany had nothing to do with his title, or with his consequence. He’d merely behaved as a gentleman toward… well, as a besotted gentleman.
“You imply that my lovemaking did not impress you,” he said, his hand finding its way to a warm, abundant breast. “Shall I address that shortcoming?”
She lifted her cheek from his arm. “Somebody has lit the lamps in the nursery.”
Against Sedgemere’s palm, flesh ruched delicately. “One of the boys had a nightmare or started a pillow fight.”
He’d like to have pillow fights with Anne, also formal dinners, house parties, holidays, quiet breakfasts, afternoon naps…
And babies.
“Sedgemere, your boys have that bedroom just before the corner. Why would they be awake at this hour?”
“They should be cast away with their labors, you’ve kept them so active,” Sedgemere said, withdrawing his hand. “I suppose you want to investigate?”
Anne scrambled to sitting, and gathered up her chemise. “What if one of the boys has fallen ill? Feeding a great herd of people can mean the kitchen is less careful to keep hot food hot and cold food cold. Bad fish can carry a grown man off, or bad eggs. Mutton can turn, and if the sauces are heavy, and a boy is hungry, he might not notice.”
Oh, how Sedgemere loved her, loved her fierce protectiveness of the boys, her ferocious passion, her laughter.
Her hesitance to accept his offer of marriage was not so endearing.
“Anne, calm yourself. They are robust boys, and nobody in the entire gathering has shown a single symptom of ill health. They know not to eat anything that tastes off, because a duke’s heir might be drugged and kidnapped.”
Her head emerged from her chemise. “Gracious, Sedgemere, you lead an exciting life. Hadn’t you best get dressed?”
He did not want to get dressed. He wanted to tackle Anne and ravish her and tickle her, and then make love with her in the warm, shallow waters of the lake.
“Anne, will you marry me?”
“Now is not the time, Sedgemere. Your children might be ill, fevered, dyspeptic. One of them might be injured, or might have gone missing. One must always be aware of risks, and with children, the risks are limitless.”
Not a yes, but also not a no, and she was right. Now was not the time. Sedgemere found his shirt, then pulled on his breeches.
“It’s probably nothing. Ralph still occasionally wet the bed as recently as last summer. His brothers helped him hide the sheets and get new ones from the linen closet. I wouldn’t have known if I hadn’t overheard the housemaids discussing it.”
The dress went on next, a loose, high-waisted smock with short sleeves and a lace-edged bodice. Of all Anne’s dresses, including her dinner finery and ballroom attire, this one would always be Sedgemere’s favorite.
“You should be proud of the boys for sticking together,” she said. “Not all brothers do. I can’t find my—”
Sedgemere passed her a pair of low-heeled slippers. “I am proud of the boys, and lately, I’ve started telling them that. I do hope Ralph hasn’t wet the bed. He’ll be mortified.”
“Perhaps his duck has got loose,” Anne said, kneeling up to help Sedgemere with his cravat. “Any duck would grow restless, living in boxes and closets.”
“His what?”
“Josephine, his duck. I come out before breakfast for a walk around the lake, and Ralph is often in company with Josephine, whom he has brought clear from Nottinghamshire. She’s a very well-traveled duck. Hold still, Sedgemere.”
Anne finger-brushed his hair into order, fluffed his cravat, and passed him his jacket.
Because she was studying him, Sedgemere had a moment to study her. The moon had risen higher, and thus more light was available, and he could see what she doubtless hoped was hidden by the darkness.
Despite her brisk tone, despite her obvious concern for the children—and this damned traveling duck— Sedgemere’s intimate attentions had moved Anne Faraday to tears.
Now was not the time, she’d said, but as Sedgemere took her hand and led her back to the house, he vowed that they would find the time, and he’d have an answer to why his lovemaking had made her cry.
And an answer to his proposal of marriage.
* * * * *
The maids were in an uproar, Richard and Ryland were pacing about in their nightshirts, a footman hovered, and two governesses in nightcaps and night-robes were arguing about whose job it was to evict rogue ducks.
Sedgemere stood in the middle of this pandemonium as if nursery riots were simply another duty on the endless list of duties dukes took in stride, while Anne could not find a useful thought to think or a helpful deed to do. Three older boys from the room across the corridor lingered in the doorway, and a small red-haired girl peeked around the jamb as well.
“The lot of you will please settle down.” Sedgemere hadn’t raised his voice, and he’d hoisted Ralph onto his hip. “Lord Ralph, when did you last see the duck?”
“She was in her b-box after supper,” Ralph wailed, “but somebody let her out. I’ll never s-see her again, and Josie was my only d-duck.”
Two of the boys hovering in the door slipped away, the footman took to bouncing forward and back on his toes, and everybody else fell silent.
“You,” Sedgemere said to the footman, “please follow the two fellows who departed and search their quarters. If you require my aid in that endeavor, I’ll happily lend it, and I’m sure the boys’ parents will too. You two,” he went on, addressing the governesses, “are excused with my apologies for the uproar. If you maids would see the other children to their beds and search the playroom
s for any stray ducks, I’d appreciate it.”
“But my Josephine is lost,” Ralph moaned. “My only d-duck, and she won’t know her way around, and the other boys are mean, and the cook will kill her and feed her to the guests.”
“Anne,” Sedgemere said, “in the morning, you’ll have a word with the Duchess of Veramoor if Josephine remains truant. Please instruct Her Grace to modify the menus so no duck is served until Josephine has been returned to her owner’s care.”
One did not instruct the Duchess of Veramoor, but that wasn’t the point. “Certainly, Sedgemere. I’ll speak with Her Grace before breakfast.”
“Can you do it tonight?” Ralph asked. Tears streaked his pale cheeks, and he didn’t even raise his head from his papa’s shoulder.
“Morning will suffice,” Sedgemere said. “Nobody is awake in the kitchen to wield so much as a butter knife at this hour, my boy, and duck is never served for breakfast. It isn’t done.”
A great sigh went out of the child as Sedgemere sat on the edge of a low cot, arranging Ralph in his lap.
“You lot,” he said, gesturing to Ryland and Richard. “Get over here. We have a mystery to solve. Miss Faraday, your powers of deduction are required in aid of our task.”
Anne took a seat on the opposite cot, because Ryland and Richard had tucked in on each side of their papa. The picture they made, three handsome little redheads clustered around their blond papa, all serious focus on a missing duck, did queer things to Anne’s heart.
She had no powers of deduction, but her predicament didn’t call for any. She was not simply attracted to Sedgemere, she loved him. This slightly tousled fellow was the true man, not the wealthy aristocrat, but the conscientious parent, Hardcastle’s devoted friend, Anne’s lover—her wooer. Sedgemere’s passion was a sumptuous pleasure Anne would never forget, but the devotion to his children, to finding a missing duck, would hold her heart captive forever.
“Now,” Sedgemere said. “We’ve cleared the room of spies and spectators. If you wanted to hide a duck somewhere that would cause a great commotion and embroil the duck’s owner in terrible trouble, where would you boys stash the duck?”
“Not in my rooms,” Richard said. “Maybe in the governess’s rooms?”
“The governesses would be shrieking the house down by now,” Ryland observed. “Josie’s not the quietest duck.”
“We have to find her,” Ralph said. His hand came up, thumb extended as if headed for his mouth, but Sedgemere gently trapped Ralph’s hand in his own.
“Miss Faraday,” Sedgemere said, “where would an errant duck cause the staff or guests the greatest disruption? Where would a duck be the worst possible surprise?”
Four sets of blue eyes turned on Anne as if she knew the secret to eternal happiness and how to remove an ink stain from a boy’s favorite shirt. If she failed them—
“The linen closet on the floor that houses the young ladies,” Anne said, rising. “I know exactly where it is too, because it’s around the corner from my own rooms.”
“You fellows stay here,” Sedgemere said, depositing Ralph on the bed. “If Josie should come waddling home, she’ll be upset, and only Ralph will be able to catch her. We’ll report back shortly. Miss Faraday, lead on.”
Sedgemere extended a hand, and Anne took it. She ought not to have, not in front of the boys, not without an adult chaperone. But all too soon, she’d have to tell Sedgemere they could never be married, and so she took what she could, and clasped his hand.
Chapter 6
* * *
“A damned duck,” Sedgemere groused, though he wanted to howl with laughter. “A damned duck has attached itself to my nursery retinue and I had no idea. A damned female duck.”
“Josephine sounds like a boy to me,” Anne said. “The lady ducks have the louder, more raucous voices, rather like debutantes.”
Anne’s voice was soft, tired, and determined, and her grip on Sedgemere’s hand secure. He could hunt ducks with her all night, all year, for the rest of his natural days. Voices came from around the corner, and Sedgemere pulled Anne into an alcove inhabited by a pair of Roman busts.
Miss Higgindorfer and Miss Postlethwaite went giggling past, extoling the virtues of His Grace’s manly physique and lovely dark hair.
“Poor Hardcastle,” Sedgemere whispered. “You check the corridor.”
Anne did, her stealth worthy of Wellington’s pickets. She gestured Sedgemere out of hiding, but he first tugged her back into the alcove and stole a kiss.
“For luck,” he said. “My son’s happiness and his entire regard for his papa rest upon locating this prodigal duck.”
“The linen closet is just down here,” Anne said.
And the damned closet, as it turned out, was locked. “Boys can’t get into a locked closet, and I doubt—”
A soft, plaintiff quack sounded from the other side of the door. Anne’s lips quirked as she fished at the base of her braid and produced a hairpin.
“One carries extras,” she said, “in case another lady might have need, or a duck might be trapped behind a locked door.” She applied the hairpin to the lock, and the latch lifted easily.
They couldn’t leave the door open, lest the duck fly off, so Sedgemere wedged himself through the door and towed Anne in after him.
“Gracious, it’s quite dark,” she said.
Sedgemere looped his arms around her. “And the blasted duck has gone quiet, but we did find her, so perhaps another kiss for luck will produce complete victory.”
He had not the first inkling how to find a duck in a tiny, pitch-dark room, but finding Anne’s mouth with his own involved no effort at all, only pleasure. He kissed her and kissed her and kissed her, until her back was against the shelves of sheets, towels, and bedclothes, and the scents of lavender and laundry starch had become Sedgemere’s favorite aphrodisiacs.
He was on the point of opening his falls when a soft quack sounded near his left boot.
Anne’s sigh feathered past his cheek. “I told you I think he’s a boy duck. He just sniffed at my ankle.”
“There’ll be none of that,” Sedgemere said, stooping to pick up the duck. “The only fellow who’ll be sniffing at your ankles is me, madam. This is not a small duck.”
The bird snuggled into Sedgemere’s grasp as if weary of being at liberty. Sedgemere, however, was not weary of kissing Anne, so he leaned in for more, kissing her around the duck.
“We should go,” Anne whispered, her hand framing Sedgemere’s jaw. “It’s late, and the boys will worry.”
“We should be married,” Sedgemere said, as Josephine quacked her—or his—agreement. “Even the duck agrees.”
“I cannot marry you, Your Grace.” She kissed him lingeringly. “I am needed in my father’s house, and you should marry a woman of some consequence.”
The duck quacked again, not as softly.
“Do you think I’m after your money?” Sedgemere asked. “I have no need of it, Anne. I need only you. The boys love you, you will make a fine duchess, and I—”
The door opened as the Duchess of Veramoor’s crisp voice rang out. “I knew I heard something quacking. It appears, though, that we’ve found ourselves a duck and a duke—among others. I must say, this is most irregular. I do not recall a duck on my guest list.”
* * * * *
Anne ended up holding the duck, stroking her fingers over Josephine’s soft, smooth feathers, while the Duchess of Veramoor paced the boundaries of a private sitting room.
“Sedgemere, you are found in a linen closet kissing the stuffing out of an unmarried woman of good birth, at my house party. A duck is no sort of chaperone, and I’ll not be able to keep the Postlethwaite creature quiet.”
For Miss Postlethwaite had been at Her Grace’s elbow when the linen closet door had been opened. Josephine had honked a merry welcome, and Anne’s future had been destroyed.
More destroyed, which was semantically impossible.
“I was in the act of maki
ng Miss Faraday an honorable offer,” Sedgemere said. “She had yet to fully explain her response.”
Anne had been on the verge of explaining her way right into His Grace’s breeches. She cuddled the duck, who bore that indignity quietly. They’d both had a challenging evening, after all.
“Sedgemere, you do me great honor,” Anne said, gaze fixed on Josephine’s bill, “but I cannot marry you. I have explained that I’m needed at my father’s side.”
The duchess sat, so Sedgemere had room to pace. “You think I’m in want of coin,” he said. “That’s the only explanation I can fathom. You are confused by the events of the evening, and your normal common sense has deserted you. I do not care that much,”—he snapped his finger at Anne, and Josephine made as if to nip at him—“for your wealth.”
If only it were that simple. “Sedgemere, I am old enough to know my own mind, and we would not suit.”
A great, big, fat, quacking falsehood, that. Even the duchess looked impatient with Anne.
“We won’t sort this out tonight,” Her Grace said. “I will speak to the Postlethwaite girl tomorrow. A maid outside Miss Postlethwaite’s door will ensure my guest does not roam before breakfast, but that’s as much as I can do.”
Sedgemere paused at the window and twitched back a lacy curtain. From this side of the house, he’d have a view of the moonlit lake.
“You might remind Miss Postlethwaite,” Sedgemere said, “that if she speaks a word against Miss Faraday, nothing I could say or do would stop Hardcastle from offering Miss Postlethwaite and her entire set the cut direct.”
Anne took heart from that observation, because Hardcastle would also cut anybody who spoke a word against Sedgemere.
“Do you love another, Miss Faraday?” the duchess asked.
What an appalling question. “I am not in love with anybody save Sedgemere.”
Ah, God, a mistake. A mistake brought on by the lateness of the hour, forbidden passion, and stray ducks.
“Are you with child by another?” Her Grace’s tone brooked no dissembling, but her gaze was kind. “Young ladies can be taken advantage of, and you are honorable enough not to put a cuckoo in the Sedgemere nest.”
Once Upon A Dream Page 18