by Ella Quinn
“Ah, I understand. Allow me to make you more comfortable.” He lifted her onto his lap. “There is no need to be embarrassed.”
The fingers of one hand continued to stroke her breast, as his tongue stroked hers. If it hadn’t been for the feel of cooler air, she wouldn’t have known her skirts were rising. Suddenly, his hand cupped her mons, pressing against her, inviting her to press against him. Geoffrey found the nubbin Elizabeth had been told about, and began gently stroking it.
“You are so wet,” he whispered. “Let go. Come for me.”
He slipped his finger into her channel, and suddenly, the tension that had gripped her exploded and her body felt as if waves where crashing over it.
“Elizabeth? Sweetheart?” He held her tightly against his body. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. No. I’m better than fine. Much better. I am excellent.” She flung her arms around his neck and kissed him. “I think the bedcovers are exactly the right color.”
Geoffrey barked a laugh and held her lightly as he pulled her skirts down. After lacing her gown up, they sat quietly while he held her in his lap. Eventually, he said, “We had better be getting back. Would you like to go home?”
“Yes.” After experiencing such exquisite pleasure, she could not imagine staying at the ball. Perhaps he would show her more tomorrow.
Geoffrey wanted nothing more than to take Elizabeth to their apartment and make love to her. If he could have figured out a way to do it, he would have done exactly that. But he could not very well say, “My lady, I have decided to take your niece home with me but will promise to return her before dawn. Or perhaps never.”
Still, there was tomorrow, and he and Elizabeth would have all afternoon.
By the time they re-entered the ballroom and found Lady Bristow, she was ready to depart as well. Claiming a headache, she did not even invite him in for tea when they reached Turley House.
“I do apologize,” her ladyship said. “I rarely have a sick head, but with all the planning for the wedding, I have not rested properly. I know you said as soon as all could be arranged, but have you settled on an actual date?”
“I shall procure the special license in the morning.” Geoff had planned to do that today, but the settlement agreements took all his time. “My parents should arrive the day after that.” He glanced at Elizabeth and mouthed three. She nodded. “In three days, we should be ready.”
“Three days it is then,” Lady Bristow said. “Come along, Elizabeth. You have looked flushed all evening.”
Geoff thought he’d go into whoops at the saucy look his betrothed tossed him. But he assumed a suitably sober mien, and said, “Yes, my dear. You must rest.”
“Yes, dear.” Her words were appropriately docile, but this time the look she gave him was so sultry, he almost dragged her back into the coach. “If you insist.”
“Minx,” he whispered as he kissed her hand. “I have changed my mind. I’ll come for you at eleven-thirty, if you have no objection.” Geoff wanted Elizabeth alone with him for as long as possible.
“I’ll be waiting.” For some reason he could not let her go, and he slid his fingers along hers until there was nothing but air.
* * *
The next morning, Geoff arrived at the Archbishop of Canterbury’s office in Doctors’ Commons when the doors were unlocked at nine.
Earlier, he had found the newest copy of Debrett’s to acquire the date of Elizabeth’s birth and her full name. Elizabeth Catherine Amelia Turley. The name fit her. That her birthday was on the twenty-ninth of June he must remember. It wouldn’t do to forget one’s wife’s birthday. He winced thinking about the time Father had forgotten Mama’s birthday. He had spent months making it up to her.
“Good morning,” he said to the clerk who looked as if he could use another cup of tea. “I would like to arrange a special license.”
The young man pulled out a piece of paper. “May I have your full name and that of the lady?”
“Geoffrey Augustus Charles, Earl of Harrington. My betrothed is Elizabeth Catherine Amelia Turley . . .” He gave the clerk the names of their fathers as well.
“The lady is a minor,” the clerk said. “Do you have the permission of her father or guardian?”
“Yes. Viscount Turley has given his permission and the settlement documents have been signed.” Which was the only reason Geoff had not procured the license yesterday. He’d been surprised and relieved at how generous his father had been. Turley had methodically reviewed the documents Geoff’s father had sent, many times stopping and asking for clarification. In the end, he signed the settlements without asking for any changes.
“If you could return in an hour, I shall have the license prepared for you.”
Geoff glanced around and found four chairs set against a wall. “I’ll wait.” The clerk sighed. He was about ready to give the young man a piece of his mind when he thought better of it. Becoming angry would not do him any good and might make getting the license take even longer. “I do not have any other business in this area, and the wedding is the day after tomorrow. I am taking a post with Sir Charles Stuart and must leave for the Continent immediately after.” Geoff swallowed his gore. “I would appreciate any help you can give me.”
The clerk studied him for a moment and said, “My brother is with the Life Guards. When you get to Belgium—”
“If you will write down his name,” he said, interrupting the man, “I will make a point of looking him up and send you word.” His younger brother, Rob, who was still at Eton, was bound for the army in another year. Geoff thanked the deity that his brother was not going on this campaign.
“Thank you. He does not write as often as he could.” The clerk pulled out another piece of paper and began to write.
When the young man was finished, he disappeared through a door and Geoff could do nothing but wait. Yet, it was not long before the clerk returned.
“Here you are.” Geoff took the papers the young man handed him. He perused the license, then read the second sheet. “Hawksworth. What the devil is the Duke of Somerset’s heir doing in the army?”
The clerk sighed again. “You have obviously never met my father.” The young man held out his hand. “I’m Septimius Trevor.”
“Lord Septimius, I promise I shall send you word.” Even if he had to hunt down the man’s commander.
“That is all any of us can ask. Thank you again.” Lord Septimius had a ghost of a smile on his countenance.
Geoff arrived back at Markham House less than an hour later. “Nettle,” Geoff called as he strolled into his apartments.
“I’ll be right there, my lord.” A few moments later his valet appeared, appearing somewhat put upon. “My apologies, my lord, there was some difficulty with the laundress, but that is none of your concern.”
If they were staying here longer, Geoff thought it might be his concern. His valet had been with him for years and was never out of sorts. He took out the special license. “See that this is put where we can find it for the wedding.”
Nettle glanced at the document. “I’ll put it in your jewel box. And the wedding, my lord?”
“The day after tomorrow, God willing. I hope to depart the following morning.”
“Very good. I shall have everything in readiness.”
“I know you will.” The clock chimed eleven. “I am going to fetch Miss Turley so that she can select fabrics after lunch. Please make sure they are in the countess’s bedchamber. Tell Cook that I will have a guest for luncheon and wish to eat at noon instead of one. After that, you may have a free afternoon.”
Nettle bowed and returned to the dressing room, and Geoff started off to Elizabeth’s house. After today, they would have luncheon in their own dining room. He couldn’t wait until she was with him permanently.
Chapter Nineteen
Elizabeth glanced at the clock once again. In only a matter of minutes, Geoffrey would be here to collect her. Unfortunately, her father had arrived home
two hours ago and was going on and on and on about how he had not yet met Lord Harrington. Good Lord! She did not recall that he had met Lord Merton, but her father had been ready to throw her into his arms.
Papa had given her brother his power of attorney to act with regard to her betrothal to Geoffrey, and Gavin had done exactly as he should, but Papa had—for reasons known only to him—taken umbrage. Her brother was calmly but firmly reminding their father of that fact.
Papa’s back was to her and the door. She rose slowly and began to inch her way out of the room.
She was almost there when her father turned. “Elizabeth.” Drat! If she did not leave, she would be late. “What are you still doing here? This cannot concern you.”
Her fist clenched, and she opened her mouth to argue that her settlement agreement and her marriage were most certainly of interest to her, then realized she had been excused.
Not that it mattered. Gavin had explained the contract to her. And, at this point, there was nothing her father could do to ruin her wedding. “Of course, Papa.”
She fled the drawing room. Vickers was ready with Elizabeth’s bonnet, gloves, and shawl. A few moments later, she was in the hall. Fortunately, one of the footmen was there instead of the butler. “I am expecting Lord Harrington. Please open the door the moment he arrives. He will not need to be announced as we shall be departing immediately.”
“Yes, miss, but I think his lordship is here now.”
She glanced out the sidelight window. He was in the process of bringing his phaeton to a stop. If only she could run out to meet him. Glancing behind, she breathed a sigh of relief that the door to the morning room was still closed. With any luck at all, she should be able to leave before her father saw her. Elizabeth did not want Papa to meet Geoffrey when he was in one of his moods.
As she had instructed, when Geoffrey reached the door, the servant opened it. “My lord.” She smiled at him. “Imagine us both being so timely. Shall we go?”
He held out his arm and, smiling brightly, Elizabeth took it. “I am so looking forward to the fabric samples.”
Geoffrey lifted her onto the phaeton and went around to the other side. Once he had the ribbons in his hands, he slid her a look. “I think I know you well enough to ascertain when something is not right. What is it?”
She played with the fringe on her shawl for a moment, trying to decide what to say. “It is nothing that need concern you.”
“Everything that upsets you matters to me.” He glanced at his horses then turned his attention back to her. “I would not like us to begin our life together with secrets.”
Elizabeth closed her eyes for a moment and tried to tell herself her father was not his concern, but he would have to meet Papa eventually. In two days time, as it happened. “My father returned early this morning and is in a temper. When I left, he was shouting at poor Gavin.”
“Is he usually difficult to get along with?”
“Since my mother’s death”—she blew out a breath—“almost anything can set him off. He has become irritable and morose. He will give my brother something to do, then complain that he did it. I no longer know what to expect from him and neither does poor Gavin.”
Geoffrey placed one gloved hand on hers. “In that case, we shall hope he does not visit too often. If he insulted you in any way, I should be forced to tell him what I thought.”
Other than her brother, she had never had anyone who would take her side without a reason. “Would you truly?”
“Of course. I’m your husband.” His fingers tightened around hers. “Or I soon shall be.”
His loyalty to her was a surprise. She had not expected it, but perhaps she should have. Tears of joy pricked her eyes and she blinked them away.
Turning her hand, she clasped his larger one. “As I shall be your wife.”
A few moments later, he pulled the horses to a stop in front of his family’s town house. As he had before, he lifted her down, but this time it was a slow slide along his body. Memories from the night before came rushing back. What would it be like to be in their apartments where no one would interrupt them? Would he show her what being his was like?
“I shall not need my carriage again until after tea,” Geoffrey said to the butler. He led her down the corridor on the left to a small dining room. The table was set for two. “Is my grandmother joining us?” he asked the footman.
“No, my lord. Her ladyship and Miss Covenington are out and do not intend to return until late this afternoon.”
That was good news. Even though Elizabeth liked the dowager and her companion, she was glad to have Geoffrey to herself.
The room had three long windows onto a side garden. The table had one place setting at the end and the other next to it on the side. He pulled out the chair next to the head of the table for her.
Once he had taken his place, and bowls of white soup had been served, she asked, “What did you do this morning?”
He grinned. “I went to the Archbishop’s office and obtained our special license.”
“I would love to see it.” She was really going to marry him.
Well, that was a silly thought. She wouldn’t be here eating luncheon alone with Geoffrey if they were not going to wed. Having the license merely made it more certain to her.
Elizabeth had heard of special licenses, of course. Her three closest friends had been married by them, yet she had never had reason to look at one, and she wanted to see hers.
“It’s in my room. I’ll show it to you when we go up to our apartment.”
Immediately an image of the bed invaded her mind, and her body started to tingle. “Perfect.”
Bread, cold meats, cheeses, and a green salad followed. He told her of the arrangements he had put in place for their travel to Harwich and then on to Ostend. “We can reach Harwich in one hard day, if you do not mind spending that much time in the coach.”
“Not at all. I enjoy traveling.” The two days she and Gavin had spent making the journey to Town had been wonderful. She’d loved every part of the trip. The inns, watching the mail coaches, even the sometimes bad roads.
“Excellent.” Geoffrey spread mustard onto a piece of ham. “I shall instruct my valet to arrange for luncheon to be served in Chelmsford. That is our halfway point.”
“If I may”—with both his mother and grandmother in residence, Elizabeth did not wish to overstep—“I shall ask your cook to pack a basket for us. I imagine we shall have to leave quite early.”
“You may order things as you wish for our journey, our rooms, and for the houses in which we will reside.” He finished the ham, glanced at her plate.
A sense of freedom infused her soul. Even though she was responsible for all her father’s estate houses, and the tenants, she had never been given carte blanche as Geoffrey was offering.
Glancing at him, she caught him looking at her. She didn’t know if he was done eating, or if he was simply interested in her repast. “Are you ready to go to our rooms?”
“Not unless you are. Would you like a piece of beef? It’s excellent. In fact I shall have some more myself.”
At first, she had felt nervous eating alone with him, but now it all seemed so normal. As if it was the most commonplace thing in the world. “Yes, I would love a slice.” She tucked into the meat, and for a few moments they ate in silence. They had not spoken about their journey to Holland and Elizabeth wanted to know more about his plans. “Have you already booked our passage on a ship or will we have to wait?”
“I found a ship that arrived in England from the Caribbean not long ago. It is privately owned, and has, thus far, managed not to be conscripted to transport troops and equipment.” Geoffrey flushed as if pleased with himself then grimaced. “She is on her way to Harwich with instructions to wait out of sight of the port for us to arrive.”
She was glad that he had misgivings about holding a ship for their sole use. “I think that was very well done of you. After all, we can always take others alon
g with us if necessary. And you do need to get to Sir Charles.”
Geoffrey blew out a breath. “We do.”
The “we” pleased her a great deal.
A few minutes later they climbed the stairs to their apartments. The minute she opened the door to her bedchamber she cringed. “I really must change the color of this room. I do, however, like the style of the furniture.”
He glanced around then pointed to a low table set between a chaise on one side and two chairs on the other. “The sample books are there. Would you like to go through them alone, or shall I help?”
“Please stay. I would like your opinion.” She sat on the chaise and he took the place next to her.
The swatches were arranged so that they could be removed from the books and draped or held up. After a few minutes, she had the fabric samples she liked placed on every piece of furniture in the room.
“I think I shall change these two.” She swapped the small cream and pale pink stripe she had placed on the chaise with a large, airy print and placed the stripe on the chairs. “That’s better. All that is left is the walls and hangings.” Picking up two pieces of silk wall paper, she held them up, but they were too close for her to see how they’d look on the walls. “Will you hold these against the wall over there?” She pointed to the far wall. “Yes, I believe the cream and pink with the larger stripe is better.”
Geoffrey lowered his arms, placing the swatch she had chosen on a table next to the wall. “That didn’t take as long as I thought it would.”
“No.” She had been thinking about what she wanted since she first saw the bedchamber. Elizabeth scanned the room again. With the lighter colors it would appear much larger.
There was only one more space to decorate. She held up an elegant gold and cream stripe. “What do you think about this for the entry?”
“I like it.” That had been easy.
She took the sample to the entry hall and placed it on the table. “Shall we call the housekeeper now?”
Sauntering toward her, he had a wicked glint in his blue eyes. “I think we should discuss my bedchamber next.” He drew her into his arms, kissing her thoroughly. “I thought we might see exactly how much the bedcover affects you.”