“What? I’ve missed you.” His hand acted before his mind could stop it, smoothing over the back of her skirt to cup the firm mound of her derriere. As long as she hadn’t slapped him, he figured he might as well brazen it out. “You are my wife.”
“I am. I hope you remembered that as well in Italy as you do now that you’ve returned.” She flashed him a smug grin and increased her pace to escape him, taking the lead.
He ran to catch up, turning so that he faced her even though he risked tripping over a stone as he continued on backward. “I could never forget. You were on my mind constantly. You and no other.”
“It would have been difficult to become a lothario when you were staying with your mother, I suppose, though not impossible.”
“Speaking of Mother…” He had to warn Sophia of his mother’s impending return, but he dreaded how she would take the news.
“No, let’s not. I can’t imagine any good reason to bring her into the conversation. I’m sorry I mentioned her at all.”
With his mother still in France, he supposed he could wait for a more opportune time to tell Sophia of their need to clear their guests out of the Dower House. Mother always took weeks to shop her way through Paris. “Let’s speak of brighter things. Dinner. Just the two of us. Perhaps we could even dismiss all the servants. Give them the night off.”
“When you’ve just returned?” She pursed her lips in the way that signaled her annoyance, a gesture he remembered all too well. And how he’d missed it! “Who do you expect will serve if we dismiss the servants? You imagine I’ll fawn over you simply because you’ve come back.”
He wouldn’t mind a little fawning. “Of course not. I’ll serve you.”
She shook her head. “Better to concentrate on making up to me, don’t you think? You haven’t the faintest idea what goes into serving a meal.”
“Don’t I? Ah, there’s where you’re mistaken. I’ve learned a great many things during my time away, including how to cook and serve a meal. Now you’re guilty of underestimating me as well. It seems we both have work to do in getting reacquainted.”
“You cook?” Her mouth gaped the slightest bit. “Wonders never cease. I would like to experience a meal cooked and served by you. It can’t be today, I’m afraid. The servants must be all too happy to have you home to allow us the indulgence of insisting they stay out of our way.”
Sophia, concerned for the servants? He laced his fingers with hers. “They’re excited to see us together again. Let’s give them the show they’re expecting, shall we?”
“What kind of show?” She arched a thin, black brow.
“A romantic one, of course. They want the reassurance of knowing that all is right in our world.”
She nodded. “So that there’s no uncertainty that all is right with theirs. We do set the tone, don’t we?”
“We do. You’ve always said so.” Reassured that they were of one mind, he released her hand to place his arm around her. She leaned comfortably into him. This. This closeness. What he’d missed the most was feeling intimately close to another human being. To Sophia. “But one thing. Do we have to allow that Grant man to join us at dinner? And Agatha. I would rather it be the two of us alone.”
“‘That Grant man’? Are you jealous, Gabriel? I assure you…”
“No need to reassure me, darling. I trust you. Completely.” Did he? “It’s just that he’s the sort of man who looks like he would be appealing to the ladies, although I know you value his opinion.”
“I do. He’s got remarkable sense. But I’m not attracted to him. Just the same, it means the world to hear you say that you trust me. It’s a good start.”
Friends then, he decided. They were to be friends, not enemies. Lovers? That might take more convincing. But it was indeed a good start.
* * *
Safe in her room, Sophia leaned against the door to catch her breath. Kissing him had put her in mind for other things. And when he’d placed his hands on her, cupping her bottom, she’d nearly melted on the spot. She could not afford to lose her mind. Not with so much left to clear up between them.
Her husband might be ready to fight for the rights of all men in Parliament, but he was clearly still against the rights of women. Believing her to be out of her element in business because she wore skirts? Ridiculous. After seeing the ledger, irrefutable proof of her success, Gabriel still seemed to require more proof that his wife had managed Thornbrook Park every bit as well as he had, perhaps even better.
He had learned to cook. She wondered what other skills he had picked up during his adventures. They had much to learn about one another, but she’d insisted they part to get ready for dinner. If they resumed sharing a room too soon, they might regret it. Better to keep some mystery between them for now. Besides, Gabriel’s valet would enjoy the chance to catch up with him too.
Burns had been restless without his lord at home. Sophia hadn’t had the heart to fire him. It would have been like admitting her uncertainty that her husband was ever coming back. Instead, she’d allowed him to look after Mr. Grant and any other visiting gentlemen. The Thornes visited frequently and sometimes stayed for days. He’d had no shortage of work despite Gabriel’s absence, but now Burns could look after Gabriel exclusively. From now on, Mr. Grant and Marcus would have to rely on a footman’s assistance.
“I suspect you’ll be wanting the new Worth?” Jenks asked, emerging from the closet, gown in hand. It was a gorgeous creation, a hand-beaded silk in a blue several shades deeper than Sophia’s eyes.
“Exactly what I had in mind. Thank you, Jenks. You’re a dear. Jean-Philippe always knows exactly what will suit a woman best.”
Jenks flashed her tight-lipped grin. “I’ll go run your bath.”
Sophia couldn’t help but think about how well Jenks would look on Wesley Grant’s arm, but some of her most egregious affronts to friends and family had been through her well-intentioned matchmaking. She wouldn’t dare attempt it again. If her maid and estate agent were suited, they would just have to find their way to each other without her intervention.
“Oh, I forgot to mention.” Having gone to start the bath, Jenks peered around the door. “Aunt Agatha sent word that she is taking dinner on a tray in her room. Something about improving her communications with the spirit world.”
Sophia made a ghastly face and wiggled her fingers in the air. “I’m sensing a disturbance…”
Jenks laughed politely, and Sophia realized her slip, making fun at her aunt’s expense in front of the servants. What had come over her? “I believe she’s simply being generous,” Sophia said, by way of correcting her flub. “Giving Gabriel and me some time alone now that he is home.”
“I agree.” Jenks reemerged and pulled Sophia’s robe from the closet. “She’s perceptive, if anything, and so kind.”
Sophia felt all the more admonished. “The kindest. What would I have done all these months without her?”
“She relies on you too. And Miss Puss, of course.”
Sophia suspected Jenks had added that last bit so that Sophia wouldn’t be the only one having a little fun with Agatha. “Let’s not forget Miss Puss.”
With Jenks’s help, she slipped out of her clothes into her robe and headed to the waiting bath. Once in, relishing the feel of the warm water and the smell of lavender, Sophia called Jenks back.
“Jenks? I just want to thank you for all that you do. You’re a tremendous help to me every day, and I’m sorry if I haven’t said it enough.” Or at all.
Jenks appeared taken aback. “Nonsense. It’s my job, Lady Averford. I’m happy to do it, and I strive to do it well. ‘Do your best, or what’s the point,’ my severe old nana always said.”
“She would be proud of you, Jenks.”
Jenks shook her head, a wide smile—not the tight-lipped one—on her face. “Pardon me for speaking out, but what has
gotten into you? Making jokes, thanking the servants? What next? Are you going to start giving us all gifts? Are you feeling well, Lady Averford?”
Sophia laughed. “I’m perfectly well, thank you. I suppose I’ve learned to be more appreciative of all that I have after nearly losing…” Her voice broke off and she realized her laughter had made way for tears. Big drops. Falling into the tub. She couldn’t stop them. “Well, I’m grateful. Time to start showing it more.”
“Oh now, don’t cry. Or go ahead. Have a good cry. Sometimes we need to cry it out, don’t we?” She brought Sophia a towel and remained poised at the edge of the tub. “You’re in the right place for it. If we’d already gotten you dressed, we might have to change to a dry gown before dinner.”
“Wouldn’t that be a sight? The countess showing emotion after years of remaining aloof? Someone might get the idea that I’m human after all.”
“You are human. A title doesn’t change that. And you’re a good woman, if I may say so, Lady Averford. Everyone in the house thinks very highly of you.”
“Good of you to say, Jenks.” Perhaps everyone but the housekeeper, Mrs. Hoyle. Sophia dried her eyes on the edge of the towel. “I thought everyone was against me when I first came to Thornbrook Park and the Dowager Countess ruled all. But when she left, and some of the old servants left with her, I felt I had a chance.”
“I don’t know about her,” Jenks said, standing and making her way back to the door. Probably eager to escape… “Never met her. But I do know you. You hired me and you’ve always been good to me. I’m grateful too, for my job and a good place in this beautiful house.”
“It is beautiful, isn’t it?”
“Grand. Now keep in mind I might still be thinking of gifts.” Jenks laughed. “I’ve always loved your diamond cuff bracelet, if you should ever consider parting with it.”
Sophia was glad for Jenks’s good humor, which was pulling her out of the abyss. “You know I’ll never part with that one. It was a gift.”
“From your husband. I know. Now finish your bath so we have time to dress you up and do your great beauty justice. The earl needs to see just what he’s been missing by staying away so long.”
A short time later, Sophia glided down the stairs refreshed and feeling pretty. Jenks had worked her usual magic in pinning her hair at her nape, with soft strands falling to frame her face in perfectly planned “escape” from her diamond comb. The beading of her gown picked up the low light, shimmering as she crossed the drawing room.
“Champagne?” Her breath caught at the sight of her handsome husband awaiting her, two glasses in hand. She hadn’t exactly forgotten how well he filled out a tuxedo, but she couldn’t help but feel the fresh tingles running through her blood like bubbles in the champagne when she looked him over. Golden-blond hair just brushing the top of his dark collar, tanned skin. Apparently he’d spent a lot of time outdoors in Italy. His shoulders were broad enough to carry the weight of the world, or at least all of Thornbrook Park.
“It’s appropriate for tonight.” He handed her a glass and held her gaze, his coffee eyes aglow. “A celebration. I’m so happy to be home. Happiest to be with you, my exquisite wife.”
She clinked her glass to his. “To your return. I’d almost forgotten how suited you are to dressing up, for a man who prefers the out-of-doors.”
His full lips parted in a smile, bringing out the single dimple in his left cheek. “I’ve a new interest in interiors.”
“Oh? So you won’t be getting up at the break of dawn to go out and kill some poor unsuspecting animal?”
“Some poor unsuspecting animal will be gracing our table tonight, and thank goodness for it. The Italians offer some interesting cuisine, but there’s nothing like a good English roasted haunch.”
“A haunch? You make it sound so appetizing. Not exactly what you learned to cook in Italy then, I presume.”
“I learned to make gnocchi, little Italian potato dumplings, served with sage in a butter sauce. And risotto. I’ve perfected my risotto, or so our cook, Signora Gugino, told me. She was my instructor. Some mornings, I would help her go out and look for mushrooms. She taught me which ones were good for eating and which to avoid.”
“My husband, the mushroom hunter? Astounding.”
“I can show you. We have a few of the same kind growing in the woods here.”
“I would like that.” She took a long sip of champagne. “And your risotto, or the neo-key, what did you call it?”
“Gnocchi. Soon. We’ll have a big Italian feast just as soon as Mrs. Mallows allows me to take over her kitchen.” Surprising her, he pulled Sophia to him, his arm curling around her waist and placing her body in front of his. With his free hand, he lifted his glass to her portrait, his lips less than an inch from her ear as he whispered. “We’ll have to order a new portrait painted, or perhaps a photograph, which is more likely to capture your real beauty. You’ve only grown more stunning since this one was hung.”
She didn’t want to remind him that he’d barely noticed when her new portrait was hung, replacing the one of his mother that had been there for twenty years or more. Instead, she leaned against him, enjoying the feel of his solidity against her, his arm around her, his fingers spreading possessively over her abdomen. She closed her eyes, savoring their intimacy. Was that… Yes, she believed he was becoming even more solid against her backside. It was only natural, she supposed, after so much time apart, but…he wanted her. She thrilled deep inside. He still wanted her. They remained standing, looking at her portrait, neither one willing to move and break the spell. Dinner? She didn’t care if she ever ate again so long as he loved her.
Do you love me, Gabriel? She would have turned in his arms to ask if she wasn’t so afraid of the answer. Did he know her enough to love her? For that matter, did she know him, this man who sang ballads and cooked dishes she couldn’t pronounce properly and foraged for mushrooms? Still, it wouldn’t hurt to ask. To talk. They wouldn’t learn a thing about each other if they only relied on their bodies to relay information. Lust wasn’t love. Not entirely. Though some of that wouldn’t hurt to bring them together either.
The first night he’d made love to her, he had brought her to a whole new world. It was as if she hadn’t really opened her eyes, heard, smelled, touched, or existed before he’d made her quiver under his touch. And she hadn’t been able to control herself when he replaced his fingers with his tongue, sending tremor after tremor through her until her nerves were raw with pleasure and she couldn’t remember her own name. She’d managed to call out his name though, so loudly she was surprised all the servants hadn’t come running. Oh, that first night.
But the shame that followed in the morning, when she remembered her mother’s warning: “Men want a lady to set the example in the bedroom of someone who will bear their young and keep their house. When they want whores, they know where to find them. Act like a whore, and he will begin to treat you like one.”
Under no circumstances was she to show her husband that she enjoyed the things he did to her body, her mother had told her on her wedding night. Mother sounded as if she found it hard to believe that anyone could enjoy any of it, but she was covering all territory in case.
Sophia wasn’t sure she believed Mother. What was the harm? She had liked what Gabriel did to her. She wanted more of it. And she certainly didn’t want her husband running off to do such things to a whore. To anyone else! No one but her, his own wife. Perhaps she could enjoy it more quietly, she’d told herself, a compromise.
He could keep making love to her, and she could pretend that she was a lady and recognized it as her duty but also like it a little, just not enough to scream and beg and cry. And so they went on until the day he tried to turn her around and take her from behind, the thing her mother had warned her most about—doing things that men would only expect a whore and not a wife to do, things like taking him in her
mouth or allowing him to mount her like an animal (her mother’s own words). Mother had gone over a list.
But when he’d gripped her so roughly and spun her around, heaven help her! She’d never wanted him more. Perhaps she was more whore than lady, deep down. Perhaps she’d shown him that he could treat her like a whore. She had no one to ask. A younger sister? Alice wouldn’t know. Mother hadn’t even given Alice the talk yet. Aunt Agatha? No, Sophia couldn’t even imagine bringing it up.
Her best friend, Eve, in India? No, it would take forever to get the letters back and forth, and would she even be able to write such things down? That left only her mother-in-law, her husband’s mother, and what might she think of Sophia asking such questions? Fortunately, Sophia had fallen pregnant, and that had put an end to their relations for a time.
Now a grown woman and no longer a girl, she knew that desiring her husband did not make her a whore. She knew a great many things more than she had back then—from experience, reading books, and talking to friends. She’d learned from Eve that Eve and Marcus had even kept up relations all through Eve’s pregnancies.
A year into their marriage, Gabriel must have been as confused as she was when she’d started to become more prim instead of more adventurous. And then after Edward’s death? She was so afraid to go through it all again. But with Gabriel’s proximity, the familiar feelings were rising inside her, and the need, wild and powerful, was clawing like a beast inside her, dying to get out.
“I suppose it’s time we go in to dinner.” His hoarse voice broke the silence and the mood, just as she’d been about to turn and forget all words, to throw herself into his arms and beg for him.
She wanted him to be the one to beg, she reminded herself. “Yes, dinner. Let’s get you some of that haunch you’re craving.”
Turning with a smile, she captured his gaze again. She saw hunger there, but not for venison or beef. Maybe after dinner, if she flirted and allowed him to glimpse her cleavage, he would admit to wanting her, missing her, needing her desperately…
The Great Estate Page 5