by Gordon, Rose
Lucy was taken aback. Isabelle didn’t have any friends? And more odd, she thought she’d put Lucy off. She couldn’t be further from the truth. “Isabelle, I haven’t had many friends, either.” She snorted. “Actually, we’re a lot alike in that respect. I only had two playmates as a girl, as well. Both were boys and I didn’t marry either of them.” And what a blessing that was. “I know you told me about your scandal the first time I came, but it’s not the same as mine. The circumstances surrounding our first meeting were unusual and I thought you were just being friendly for Giles’ sake. And I appreciated that. I didn’t realize... That is, I never considered that we could actually be friends.”
“Well, we can,” Isabelle informed her, grinning. “And we should since our husbands are such good friends.”
Indeed. Perhaps it was best that Lord Belgrave hadn’t been home after all. It might have been because Giles and Lord Belgrave suspected Lucy and Isabelle hadn’t formed an immediate friendship that they hadn’t made a point to visit the other recently. She’d have to assure Giles that he could invite his friends over anytime he’d like.
“Now, that we’ve officially agreed to be friends, and save the other from a miserable fate of a life subjected to feeding an unnatural embroidery addiction, can I plead with you to tell me what brought you by to see my husband?” She lowered her voice to a stage whisper. “To feed the rumor mill consisting of my needles and spools of thread once you’re gone, of course.”
Lucy smiled weakly at her jest and said, “Giles.”
“I thought it might be.” She repositioned herself on the settee. “Well, him or Simon.”
Lucy lifted a hand to stay Isabelle’s line of thought. “Just Giles.” She dropped her hand. “We had a disagreement.”
“That’s bound to happen,” Isabelle said, her voice devoid of blame or condescension.
“I know. We’ve actually had a few of them now. Mainly misunderstandings. But this one—” she worried her bottom lip— “it’s different.”
“How so?”
Lucy quickly informed Isabelle of her conversation with Giles earlier in the morning. “I don’t want him to tell Seth. I think it’ll just stir up more questions and hurt and I wanted to ask your husband if he’d help me find a way to convince Giles to change his mind.”
Isabelle sat quiet for a few moments. “This strikes a little close to the heart for Giles, doesn’t it?” she mused.
“How so?”
“You have met Mr. Appleton, have you not?”
“Of course I have. But what does that have to do with anything?”
“Quite a lot, I’d say. Have you ever seen him in the same room as Giles?”
“Yes, they look just alike.” And for good reason if Mrs. Appleton’s cryptic confession was anything to rely on.
“Have you ever considered...”
Lucy flushed. “For all of a second before Mrs. Appleton hinted that my thoughts were indeed correct.”
“Hinted,” Isabelle said. “She didn’t come out and say it, did she?”
“Well, no. I don’t think it’s something she’d want made public.”
“Likely not, but if you think about it from Giles’ perspective, it might make more sense why he feels that Seth has a right to know.”
All arguments left Lucy’s mind and her body went numb. Giles wasn’t good at interpreting hints. Either he assumed they meant the wrong thing, such as taking her confession for liking to kiss him as an agreement to marry him; or he just didn’t understand them at all. If he believed that Mr. Appleton was his father, he’d never said anything to her about it. Which could only mean he was completely oblivious to their resemblance, which wasn’t likely or he didn’t know what to believe and longed for the same information about his parentage that he claimed Seth did.
“Thank you, Isabelle,” she breathed. “I was so caught up in my own feelings and protecting Seth that I didn’t consider Giles.”
Isabelle reached forward and patted her hand. “You’re welcome. I think this is what friends are for.”
“Yes, and saving each other from a life filled with embroidery.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Giles couldn’t go to Session and it had nothing to do with the potential of being in the same room with the man who had once been intimate with his wife.
Instead, he rode around London trying to make sense of why Lucy was being so stubborn. Didn’t Seth have a right to know who his own father was? If he weren’t curious, then Giles could understand not telling him. But he was curious.
Eight hours later he turned Thor, his stallion, down his street and sighed. He was no closer to drawing a conclusion than he had been when he’d left.
Lucy was right, though, it wasn’t his place to tell Seth the truth. Only she could do that and no matter how much Seth might beg him to, Giles wouldn’t betray Lucy’s trust that way.
Arriving at home, he slid his tired and sore body from the saddle and tied Thor to the post for a groom to come attend him then went inside to assure his wife that he wouldn’t say anything to Seth. Even though he disagreed with her decision. He should probably leave that part off if he didn’t wish to get into another quarrel.
“Where’s Lady Norcourt?” Giles asked Millie when he didn’t see Lucy in any of the common rooms or their bedchamber.
“She left not long after you did, my lord.”
Giles’ stomach lurched. “Left? To where?”
Millie ran her duster in the crack between the wall sconce and the wall. “Didn’t say, my lord.”
“Did she say when she’d be back?”
“No, my lord.”
Giles frowned. “And Seth?”
“He went with her.”
His blood turned to ice. She’d left in a carriage more than nine hours ago without telling anyone where she’d gone, when she’d be back and Seth was with her. Why? Without another word to the maid, he ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time to go check Seth’s room. He flung open the door and his heart sank. The sketchbook he’d given him was gone.
That could only mean one thing: Seth and Lucy were gone, too.
***
Lucy was exhausted. After spending the majority of her day chatting with Isabelle in her drawing room, she’d had to run by the library to collect Seth. Thankfully, he’d stayed there as he’d promised he would when given the choice to go spend the day there or go on errands with her.
Another point to her good fortune was going to the library had allowed Lucy a chance to have a much-needed discussion with Mrs. Appleton that yielded satisfactory results.
Then finally, it was back to the townhouse. With any luck, she’d get back before Giles. Isabelle had received a note from Sebastian mid-afternoon telling her that it could be late into the night before he’d return.
“Can I help you down?”
She looked at her son and smiled. Giles had been a good influence on him. “I’d be honored.” She put her hand in his and allowed him to help her descend the carriage.
He immediately released her hand as soon as both of her feet were on the ground. Perhaps Giles still had more work yet to do, she thought as she wrapped her arm around his shoulders and walked up the stairs with him.
“I’m hungry. Can I go see if Cook has anything she’ll let me eat before dinner?”
“Yes.” Lucy untied her bonnet and set it down on the chair by the door. “But nothing sweet.”
With a grumble, Seth walked off.
Lucy shook her head ruefully and went upstairs to change her gown for dinner. Humming, she strolled to her bedchamber door, gripped the knob and twisted.
It didn’t budge.
She frowned and tried again. Locked.
An eerie feeling came over her. Lucy hadn’t locked their room. She didn’t even have a key!
Cautiously, she pressed her ear to the door.
Nothing.
Curiosity warred with unease. Someone had to be in there, or at least had been in there. She should
go get Mrs. Plum, the housekeeper, and have her unlock it with one of the dozens of keys she had on the giant iron hoop she wore around her wrist.
Lucy turned to go find Mrs. Plum when she noticed that the door to the room Giles had put her in that first night he’d brought her to London was open. It was the baroness’ suite, or so Mrs. Plum had informed her. Giles preferred to refer to it as just another bedchamber, because the baroness’ bed was the same as the baron’s.
A small smile tugged her lips and she let herself into the unused room. It had an adjoining door, perhaps the locked door was a mistake and she could gain entry that way.
Her smile widened, just as she’d suspected, the adjoining door was not only unlocked, it was ajar. Idly tightening one of the pins in her hair, she went to the door and pulled it open.
Then froze.
“Giles?”
Giles, who’d been sitting in a chair with his elbows on his knees, head in his hands, and shoulders slumped, jerked to a straight sitting position and blinked at her as if he didn’t believe what he was seeing.
“What’s happened?” she gasped taking note of his red-rimmed eyes and the tear stains on his cheeks.
“You left.”
Lucy walked over toward him and he slowly took to his feet. “I left?” she repeated.
“I came home and you were gone. I thought...thought...”
“I wasn’t coming back?” she ventured.
He nodded slowly.
“Why would I leave you?”
“We quarreled.”
Lucy closed her eyes for an extended blink. “Giles, I love you, I wouldn’t leave you.”
His facial expression didn’t change.
“Do you not believe me?”
“I don’t know.” His words, spoken in a broken whisper, took all the starch out of her knees.
“How can you not know that I’d never leave you?”
He recoiled at her words, sending a wave of remorse over her. She should have been more careful with her words.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “That wasn’t a fair question. I just don’t understand why you think I’d leave you. I love you.”
“So said my mother.”
Another wave of understanding overcame her. It was becoming quite evident she didn’t know her husband and his pain as well as she’d thought she had. “I’m not her, Giles. I won’t leave you. Ever.” She reached for both of his chilled hands and interlaced their fingers. “Just because we disagree, doesn’t mean that I won’t still be here.” She released his hands and slipped free the buttons on the front of his waistcoat then pulled his shirt from his trousers. “I love you, Giles. Everything about you.”
“Even the ugly parts?”
She couldn’t tell if he was attempting to jest or being serious. “There are no ugly parts.”
“There are. You just haven’t seen them.”
She didn’t believe that. Well, the part about her not seeing all of him, she did. He always seemed to take extra caution in keeping as much of himself covered as he could; therefore, she really hadn’t seen much of him at all. But she highly doubted there was anything ugly about him. She boldly cupped his groin for the first time, feeling like a new bride on her wedding night all over again as she did so. She took a measure of pride in how he hardened instantly under her fingers. “All of you.” She punctuated those words with a gentle squeeze.
He groaned.
Emboldened, she walked her fingers up to the fastenings of his trousers.
He covered her hand with his, staying her.
“Am I not allowed to see my husband, then?”
“See me?”
She nodded. “You’ve seen me without my clothing. Am I not to have the same privilege?”
“Privilege?”
“Don’t scoff. Have you forgotten that I’m a scandal-ridden baroness? It might not be acceptable in these new circles I’ve entered into, but I’d like very much to see my husband. All of my husband.”
“You would?” The surprise in his voice made her smile.
“Of course.” She released the fastenings of his trousers and slid both of her hands under his shirt and up to his chest where her fingers tangled in his mat of chest hair. “I’ve been very curious about the texture of this.”
“You have?”
She’d have laughed at the surprise in his tone, if she weren’t so nervous. “Of course I have. Did you think it was only your sex who liked to look and touch?”
“Yes.”
This time she did laugh at his automatic answer. “Well, that’s not true.” She pressed her hands flat against his broad chest and used her fingers to explore all the curves and dips his muscles created. “Just because ladies don’t want to admit it, doesn’t dim their curiosity any.” She swallowed. “At least not this lady.”
“You don’t think it’s unsightly?”
Lucy stilled. “What, your body?” At his nod, she said, “No. Not at all.” Reluctantly, she withdrew her hands from under his shirt and smoothed down his coat. “If someone told you that it was, they were wrong. I’ve only glimpsed pieces here and there, so it’s possible that I’m the one wrong, but I refuse to believe it.” She heaved a deep sigh and said a silent prayer she wasn’t wrong to push him in this way. “Unfortunately, I might never be able to make an informed decision as long as you’re still wearing all of these clothes.”
He hesitated but a moment, then took two steps back before kicking off his boots and shrugging out of his coat and waistcoat. Without a word, he removed his cravat and pulled his shirt over his head.
She’d seen his chest before, but this time she looked her fill without the threat of him covering himself at any moment. Her eyes did a slow sweep of him, drinking everything in down to his waistband where he was working to finish where she’d left off unfastening his trousers. He slipped the last button, then gripped the sides and lowered them, revealing his long, thick erection and the large patch of curling, dark hair that surrounded it in the middle of his muscled thighs. He blocked her view momentarily to bend down and remove his trousers and stockings, exposing his muscled calves and broad bare feet to her.
He straightened and stood silent as she took in every inch of his front before circling him to see him at every angle. Tall, and both broad and lean in the right places, he was breathtaking, if a man could be termed in such a way.
She resumed her former position in front of him, meeting his green eyes.
“And?”
“You’re magnificent.”
He cocked his head to the side, his lips pulling up at the corner. “That’s the same word I thought when you dropped your chemise on our wedding night.”
She blushed. “Is that so?”
He nodded then let out a hollow bark of laughter. “Ironic we can think the same thing about the other, but cannot communicate well.”
“Indeed. But those are just mere misunderstandings. I’d wager every newly married couple has had them.” She closed the area between them and looped her arms around his neck. “I’d also wager we might have another, but—” she came up on her toes as far as they’d allowed, bringing her lips within an inch of his— “I want to make one thing perfectly clear to you.” She kissed his lips. “I—” kiss— “will—” kiss— “never—” kiss— “leave—” kiss— “you.”
“Never?”
“Never,” she confirmed. “However, just to make sure we’re both in agreement, I’d be happy to communicate it to you in another way. One that involves a bed.”
“And your dress on the floor?”
“We’d better be careful we’re having the same thought again,” she teased, pressing her midsection against his erection.
Something flashed in his eyes and his hands found her waist, and in a second he had her on the bed where she was free to touch and explore every inch of him.
Which garnered no protest from her.
Or him.
Chapter Thirty-Two
An hour later
Giles combed his fingers through Lucy’s hair, relishing the way her long, silky strands felt surrounding them. It felt almost as wonderful as having her naked body draped over his. Almost. He snorted. That was a lie. There was no comparison between the two.
He peered down at her from beneath his lowered lashes and watched her slender fingers move in mindless patterns across his chest. Why had he never considered that she might like to see and touch his body? He knew the answer to that and thrust the thought from his mind immediately. He had no call to relive the coldness of his adolescence. He wasn’t a boy in an orphanage any longer. He was a husband. A father.
His chest tightened. Seth wasn’t his child by nature, but he was his son in every other sense of the word. He closed his eyes. Earlier he and Lucy had only spoken of their misunderstanding, not their actual disagreement.
“Giles?”
His eyes snapped open. “Yes?”
Lucy rolled over to prop herself up on her elbow. “What’s the matter?”
“Matter?”
“Every muscle from your neck to your waist just went rigid,” she said as if that explained anything. “What were you thinking about?”
“This morning.”
“About Seth?”
He gave her a nod. “I won’t tell him.”
She licked her lips. “Thank—”
A loud commotion at the bottom of the stairs cut her off, followed only a moment later by a discreet scratching at the door.
“Yes?” Giles barked in the general direction of the door.
Millie said something, the only part of which Giles heard was “Lady Norcourt”.
“I’ll be right back,” Lucy said, grabbing the sheet and running for the door. She opened the door just enough to poke her head out, treating Giles to an unobstructed view of her backside.
She closed the door with a soft click and held her turned position.
“Lucy?” When she didn’t respond, he padded over to her. “What’s going on?”