Carnal Pleasures

by Blaise Kilgallen

  At that moment Simon tugged on the leash hard enough that Griff and Dulcie had to follow where the dog’s sniffing and meandering took them. Their chitchat was civil as they walked side by side, mostly about the weather and goings on around the square. Dulcie smiled and spoke briefly to an older gentleman who tipped his top hat to them as he made his constitutional in the opposite direction to theirs.

  “Do you always speak to people on the street whom you don’t know?” Griff asked.

  She looked up at him in surprise. “Why shouldn’t I? Simon and I pass Mr. Walters almost every morning while out walking. Why shouldn’t I speak to him, be friendly, and pass the time of day with an elder gentleman?”

  “I’m sure your stepmother would scold, never condone it.”

  “Agina is nothing like my mother was, Griff. My mother was very open and adored people, that’s where I learned it.”

  “Yes, I can see that. You were quite open with me.” He half smiled, a tiny leer creasing one corner of his lips.

  Dulcie felt herself blush, aware of his subtle innuendo. “I suppose it is not quite proper behavior here in London. It is fine in the country where people are much more friendly. At least that’s what I believe.”

  “Do you miss your mother?” Griff asked, jumping to a different topic.

  “Oh yes, very much so.” Dulcie smiled up at him. “And my father, too. He was a dear man.”

  Just then, Simon found a spot that interested him. They paused, turning their backs to give the dog some privacy.

  “I remember that you wondered why your father married the countess. She is a haughty, overpowering woman, with a mind of her own. Was your father high in the instep?”

  “I did wonder how they got together. Often. As for the earl being haughty? No, my father was just the opposite.”

  Dulcie looked away and fastened her attention at the trees and the flowers starting to blossom in the park before continuing. “I suppose I should clarify that,” she began. “My father changed drastically after my mother died. She always said he used to be more…what shall I say? More at ease with his consequence as long as she was by his side, to help him face his responsibilities. My father inherited his title, you see, after he married. It was not what he expected. He was merely an “honorable.” His elder brother was the heir, but he died in his twenties, so my father became the Earl of Eberley. My mother told me it frightened him to death. All those responsibilities to the estate.”

  Dulcie twirled one of the ribbons of her bonnet around an index finger as they strolled. “My parents were very close, always smiling and laughing when they were at Bonne Vista.” She glanced over at Griff, whose gray, crystal-clear gaze fastened on her as he listened closely.

  In serious moments such as these, she saw something dark and rather painful lurking in the depths of his pupils. Obviously, he wasn’t a total stranger to pain and misery, she wondered what caused it. He had never mentioned his parents to her. They must be dead. He was also closed-mouthed about the rest of his background. Now that she thought more on it, she knew nothing of consequence about him.

  Nevertheless, as they walked she continued her own story. “That is where I grew up—in Surrey—at Bonne Vista. My parents kept me with them part of every day as a child growing up. I wasn’t relegated to the nursery with my nursemaid. Mother and Father were in love, and it showed, even when she became so ill. He was totally devastated and despondent when she expired. Perhaps later, he simply needed female company. I don’t know. Maybe then is why he changed so much. He went to London for the Season, and came home with a new wife.”

  Dulcie frowned. “But why do you suppose in God’s good name that he choose Agina of all people?”

  When Griff made no reply, Dulcie continued. “I fear the countess and I shall never get along. There is something about her that disturbed me right from the start, but…”

  Dulcie had halted by one of the park’s benches. “I want nothing to do with marriage and a husband, no matter that she still insists we are to marry as soon as the banns are announced. But forgive me, Griff,” she said, “nor do I want anyone in my life who is simply interested in my wealth.”

  Dulcie went on to tell him about her last encounter with her stepmother. “Agina returned my mother’s ring after I declared my intention to marry you after all.”

  She showed him the bump under her glove. “The ring is back on my finger.”

  “Good,” he said.

  She swung to face him. “I spent a great deal of time last eve thinking, after you went out, Griff.” She placed a tentative gloved hand on his forearm. “When I receive my inheritance, I will pay you for your time and trouble. You do agree, don’t you, that neither of us wishes to marry?”

  Griff swallowed what he was about to say. He had done some serious thinking overnight himself. He had been foolish enough to blurt out to his uncle that he was going to re-enlist. His re-enlistment might clearly cancel their betrothal so they couldn’t marry.

  The decision came to him quite unexpectedly…so, first things first.

  Secondly, what if Dulcie were with child? It could happen because of his stupidity in planting his seed instead of pulling out of her in the first place. He might be killed, might never know if she were breeding.

  And, his first priority still remained to clear his name and his reputation.

  He placed his palm over Dulcie’s hand resting on his forearm. “Of course, I agree. But there’s no reason for payment, Dulcie. I, er, have other means. And if they work out, our marriage will never take place. Trust me.”

  “Oh, my, I’m so glad.” She smiled. “Have you come up with a solution? What is it? You must tell me,” she said, probing deeper.

  “Later. In the meantime, it’s time we break our fast. I’m famished, aren’t you?”

  * * * *

  Griff fought his way through the maze of military personnel at Whitehall. They took no notice of him and hurried on important missions of their own, carrying messages and reports from the Continent on the status of the war effort between Napoleon and Wellington’s forces. He bumped into civilian politicians, peers looking pompous, and lesser important MIPs. Men in uniforms of different colors and tailoring bustled past Griff as he searched out the red coats and gold braided emblems of the cavalry. In the dark, dank halls of Whitehall, deep in the bowels of the building, he ran into two of his former compatriots. When he explained his reason for being there, they pounded him solidly on the back and directed him to a tiny cubbyhole occupied by a weary, red-eyed enlistment officer.

  After Griff made his case for re-enlistment with the help of his friends, he bought a new commission with Agina’s funds, was sworn in, given additional orders, and told to report, along with his mount, within the week. A troop ship was to leave for Lisbon. His papers were initialed, re-initialed, stamped, and handed back to him. He was now, again, a member of King George’s army.

  Griff’s former officers grabbed him by the arm and pulled him out of the building to a nearby pub where they sat drinking for the next few hours. Most young men had learned to hold their drink before joining the army, so Griff paced himself. But his friends were on leave and at loose ends yet, so he poured the two besotted officers into a hackney for their return trip to the Grillon Hotel. Griff then made a stop at Rand’s town house. Not finding him at home, he asked for paper and quill and wrote a short message to his friend, then headed back for Eberley House.

  He arrived in time for one of Agina’s afternoon teas. The large upstairs drawing room was filled with her ton friends. Entering, he stepped into the midst of a well-dressed group of curious, aristocratic faces and eyes swiveling in his direction.

  “Dear boy,” Agina called to him in a voice that carried across the room, and gave him reason to pause. “Do come in, Griffith. Everyone has been waiting to offer congratulations on your marriage to my very dear stepdaughter.” She beamed at him “It was good of you to hurry back to join us for tea.”

  Of course, he hadn�
�t made the countess privy to his plans before leaving earlier, so she had no idea what he was going to do. He knew his declaration would shake her up. But, he wanted to speak with Dulcie first—hopefully, as soon as they were alone. He had forgotten that he was supposed to take Dulcie for a carriage ride around the Serpentine this afternoon. Well, possibly he could take care of that matter before he left London. It was the least he could do.

  Dulcie sat beside her stepmother on the cushioned settee, wearing her new finery. Griff was taken back once again by her winsome smile and lovely, interesting eyes. How had he ever considered her plain? He met her warm smile with his.

  The buzz of conversation in the room had ceased upon his arrival.

  He immediately strode over to Dulcie, bowed, and brought her hand to his lips. “I’m sorry I’m late,” he said.

  Her eyes opened wide as if he had promised to be here.

  He winked at her on the sly and straightened.

  “Why of course, I shall forgive you, sir,” she said, prettily, and looked up at him with a smile. “I’m just happy that you are here.”

  He squeezed her fingers.

  Griff then turned his attention to Agina.

  “Aunt? My apologies for my tardiness.” He lowered his lips to the air above her knuckles but dropped her hand and stood up quickly to survey the room. He had been introduced to several of the old busybodies at some of the affairs he attended with the countess, but some here today he didn’t know. He remained standing and stationed himself beside the arm of the settee, next to Dulcie.

  “Please everyone,” Agina said, calling for attention. “Do congratulate my two young relatives. The banns are being called, and the wedding will take place in three weeks.”

  The witch made certain everyone heard, blast it. Griff grumbled silently. Well, this is going to be a big surprise when I tell her the wedding is postponed.

  Gradually, the hum of voices returned to normal. Several of the men with whom Griff was acquainted engaged him in conversation and offered congratulations, adding a ribald comment or two for his ears alone.

  The polite hour soon ended and the countess’s visitors were ushered down the dual staircases and out the front door. The line-up of carriages and drivers that had deposited the tea drinkers at the mansion’s entrance now helped them back inside for the ride home.

  Soon only Dulcie, Griff, the countess, and her lady’s maid were left in the ornate drawing room.

  “Where have you been, Griff?” Agina interrogated him, abruptly.

  “Sorry, Aunt,” he replied. “I’ve been on personal business. Nothing to worry you, I assure you,” he said, knowing he lied through his teeth.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  After the countess’s tea, Dulcie wandered down to her father’s study. Simon was with her. She left the door open, knowing the dog would alert her if anyone passed by. She browsed the bookshelves, hearing Simon thump his tail against the carpet. She turned and smiled when Griff walked through the doorway. He smiled, too. Then he shut the door and leaned against it.

  “Finding anything of interest to read, Dulcie?” he asked, speaking to her from where he stood, arms folded across his chest.

  “Only a book on Greece that belonged to my father. I understand he toured the Continent when he was young.” She had chosen a volume that illustrated Greek architecture. It also depicted nude statues. She was definitely interested in the statues. She had never seen a naked man in the flesh, not even Denny when they went swimming as children.

  “May I see it?” Griff asked, approaching her and reaching out for the book.

  She whipped it behind her back. “Er, I don’t think you would be interested,” she bumbled.

  “Oh? I managed to learn a bit Greek when in school, but I’ve forgotten much of it. I’d be interested in seeing what you have there.”

  Oh, Lord. How disconcerting!

  There was no way she could not pass it to him without being terribly rude. She handed it over.

  He flipped open the book. Slowly, he went through several pages, pausing as his eyes traveled over the finely drawn sketches. “Were these the ones in which you were interested?” There was heavy amusement in the question twitching his lips.

  There was a definite pause until she replied. “Er, I…hadn’t gotten that far,” she replied, denying it emphatically. “I don’t suppose they will be of interest to me, after all. I never studied Greek.”

  “Liar,” he said, low and under his breath, his grin widening. “Look here.” He took a step closer and proffered the book in front of her.

  She stepped back, pushing the book away with a rush of fingers. She felt her cheeks burn with a fiery blush.

  He pursued her with the open book while she still back-pedaled. “See? This shows something quite interesting. It’s a drawing of…well…”

  She clapped her hands over her eyes.

  “’Tis a fallen down building, Dulcie.” He chortled inaudibly. “It’s in ruins, but still beautiful. The Greeks call it the Parthenon.”

  “Oh!” She gulped, inhaled deeply, and opened her eyes.

  “What did you think I was showing you?” He laughed out loud this time. He pulled the book back and flipped to a few pages farther back. “Now, this is something quite different.”

  This time she gasped. It was a sketch of a nude male with outspread wings.

  “Have you never seen drawings of nude male statues?”

  “No! Of course, not!”

  He closed the book. “Dulcie…”

  “What?” she asked, her head bent, her discomfort quite apparent.

  He chuckled again. She seemed unable to look him in the eye. “It’s not so bad, really, what we did together. I’m sure you will forget all about it in no time.”

  She shook her head. Her lashes had clamped tight against her rosy cheeks in naive mortification.

  “Anyway, the reason I came to find you was something else. I came to tell you that I’ve found a way to stop the wedding.”

  Slowly, she looked up. She still didn’t quite meet his eyes but stared at his carelessly tied cravat. “How?” She asked, perplexed. “How did you manage it?”

  “I joined the King’s army again, Dulcie. I’ll be leaving for Portugal in less than a week.”

  “But…” She did look at him now. “But you just recently left the army…”

  “I did. But I decided that Boney needed a lesson as well. I’ll be fighting the French with Wellington.”

  “When…when did you decide to…”

  “Last night,” he interrupted. “I took care of it after breakfast this morning. That’s why I came late for tea.”

  Realizing he still held the book in his fingers, he slipped the slim leather bound volume into an empty slot on a nearby shelf.

  “There’s no reason for worry, Dulcie. There will be no special license, no reason to rush into marriage. I won’t alert the countess until I’m headed to Dover to take ship.”

  Dulcie’s gaze roved his face, delving deep into his eyes, crisscrossing his expression with hers for long moments. She saw he wasn’t happy about going back to war, but he found a solution to their problem.

  “I wish you hadn’t. War is a terrible thing. And I shall worry awfully, Griff, if what you’ve told me is true.”

  “What do you mean? Are you worried about me?”

  “Well, that, too, of course.” She took a step back, fumbling with her answer. “Griff, you said my stepmother would find a replacement suitor for me if she sent you away. Since she is still my legal guardian with the power to force me into marriage before my next birthday, how can this help?”

  “Damnation! You’re correct, of course. I wasn’t thinking straight. I thought only to…well, never mind what I was thinking. I’ll come up with another reason.”

  “No. You won’t. What you are doing is very brave…and very foolish. But I think I may have the solution.” She turned away from him only slightly. “I want us to stay betrothed, Griff, even though
you’re leaving and going back to war. I will not allow my stepmother to end our engagement. I shall still be protected by our betrothal. I shall make sure she honors your proposal. Our betrothal was announced in the London papers already. I read it there myself. It’s almost a done thing as far as the ton is concerned. The wedding will simply be delayed until you return.” She fixed her gaze on him. “Of course, Griff, you will renege on it later. That is, if you are still willing to go so far as agree to this now.”

  “Yes, of course, I agree, Dulcie.”

  There was a tap on the earl’s study door. “Come in,” Griff said.

  It was Bender. “Lady Dulcina, Mr. Spencer, will you be dining in tonight? The countess has accepted another invitation.”

  “I’ve an appointment with an old friend, Dulcie,” Griff said, “but perhaps, we can take a carriage drive along the Serpentine tomorrow afternoon if the weather holds. Would you like that?”

  “Oh, yes, Griff! It will be wonderful to get out of this house, and away from the countess. I shall enjoy it immensely. Thank you so much for asking.”

  She looked toward butler and replied, “I’ll take my supper on a tray, Bender, as usual.”

  He bowed out and left.

  “I daresay we should keep up the subterfuge before the eyes of the ton no matter what. Do you agree?”

  She nodded in agreement.

  “Everything will be fine, Dulcie, take my word for it.”

  Again, those same words echoed through her mind.

  Oh, I do hope so this time.

  Later, when Griff and the countess left for the evening and Dulcie was alone in the house, she scurried back to her father’s book-room. Yanking the slender volume off the shelf, she ran up to her bedchamber with it under her arm. Feeling very wicked, she plopped onto her bed next to lighted candles on the side table, cracked open the book, and examined the illustrations of nude male statues in great detail.