Warprize (Seven Brides for Seven Bastards, 5)(MFMMMMMM)
Page 11
She knew Maria would be squinting behind her veil, gathering her courage to step outside the carefully trimmed hedges that bordered her narrow path. There might be abundant wild plants on the other side, lavish, exuberant, new colors with fat rain drops gleaming and jostling like diamond chips scattered amid the petals, but as much as Maria's eye was drawn to the lure of the forbidden, she feared leaving the tidy, safe confines of what was "proper".
Rowena could never understand why most people wanted their gardens neatly cultivated and organized, kept in order like their dreary lives. Birth, marriage, children, death. That was a woman's lot in life and she was supposed to be grateful for it, never to stray from that order. Unlike Rowena, her childhood playmate Maria "Porky" Ashworth had gone happily along with the conventional plot laid out for them as young women of the aristocracy and had, before her twentieth birthday, become Lady Wynton. She had devoted her life to duty, to the upkeep of her appearance and an ever-tightening corset, foregoing genuine pleasures and any chance of expressing her own opinion. Yet she looked down on Rowena, her former childhood friend, condescending to visit when she had time and never staying more than the requisite half hour, her manner smug as only one saved from the ignominy of spinsterhood could be.
Now, ironically, the good sheep came to the independent— and by most estimations, eccentric —stray wolf for assistance.
"Can you help me, Lady Rowena?" she repeated. "Can you help us? I know with your father so ill it may not be the best time. I had not realized until I arrived here that he was so very sick. Your sister told me," she blew a tremulous gust of air against her veil, "that the physician has not given him long."
Rowena replied briskly, "Life must go on. When one dies another must be born. It is the way the world remains populated." There was no point getting emotional, she thought. That was where other people too often made mistakes. Death happened frequently and was an inevitable end for all. The only surprise should come from still being alive. "Does your husband know you came here to me?"
"Good gracious, no. It would break his heart if he thought I was reduced to this."
Rowena knew, without seeing proof, that "Porky" was blushing beneath her heavy veil. Maria was twenty–six, and her husband was almost forty years her senior. His first wife had died giving birth to a stillborn son; therefore, Maria was most likely his last chance to beget a male heir for his estate. The disparity in their ages was not, by any means, a rare situation in that society. The only thing different on this occasion was that Maria seemed genuinely to like her aged husband. She wanted a child, not just to prove herself and complete her duty, but to bring pleasure to a man who apparently cared for her tenderly. Probably, Rowena mused grimly, as a grandfather would care for her.
But whatever their relationship, that did not interest her. "Did you bring the fee?"
"Oh...oh yes." Fumbling, Maria opened her reticule and extracted a diamond necklace. "Will this be enough?"
"For my arrangements, yes. If success is achieved, there will be another fee, of course. A stud fee."
"Yes. Certainly." Maria hesitated, quick, shallow breaths blowing the pleats of her veil in an agitated sway. "Then it can be done?"
"I am merely the facilitator. I make no guarantees, but you have a very good chance." Rowena stood, signaling the end of their conversation. "If the physician has found no problem on your side, you will soon have good news for your husband. And he can remain blissfully ignorant of the methods used to achieve it."
Maria adjusted her kidskin gloves. "Has it...have you..." She rubbed her small, plump hands against her knees. "I mean to say, has it been done many times before?"
"You are my third client, and yes, the previous two were successful. I cannot, of course, divulge their names."
"Oh, no, of course not." Maria then giggled stupidly. "It's not the sort of job for which one can request references." When Rowena did not crack a smile, she added in a more pensive tone, "My pulse races quite fearfully at the prospect. I have never...never been with any other man but my husband. What if I don't know what to do?"
"Just lay there and think of the estate you're saving."
"But he will be blindfolded, you said. How will it...proceed?"
Rowena smirked at the idea of a strip of black cloth preventing any of her stable of studs finding their way around a willing woman. Especially for the price Maria was paying. "I can assure you, they won't need their sight."
"They?"
"Two men to be on the safe side. Perhaps three. You do want to give this the best chance of working, don't you?"
"Three? Oh, but I—goodness, I could never—"
A low snort of amusement finally escaped before Rowena could bite down upon it. Her shoulders relaxed. "Spare me the swooning histrionics, Porky. If you want to give that wretched old goat an heir before it's too late, you'll rut with as many men as needed to get the job done." She rolled her eyes. "A stiffener of sherry will surely get you through it." With a slight sigh of irritation, she added, "Although I have no experience of the act myself, I understand the only problem faced by most women is trying not to enjoy it too much."
* * * *
And so now here they were.
Rowena left the bed chamber, closing the door quietly, leaving Tom, Dick and Harry to do their work, while she kept watch through a small peep hole to ensure all proceeded as planned.
If the servicing went well, "Porky" would have a son and Lord Wynton would have his heir. Should the baby be a girl it would at least stand as proof that his young wife could bear a child and she might come back for a second try. For another fee, of course.
The house below was quiet, empty. Known as the "Dower House", no one had lived there since Rowena's grandmama died three years ago. Situated on the edge of her father's estate it was a perfect, secluded location for these secret trysts.
She heard Maria giggle.
So much for her old friend's timidity.
Walking away from the door, Rowena looked out through the narrow landing window and surveyed the landscape of her father's property. From here she could see the turrets that cornered the main house and the clock tower that rose up from the courtyard of the stables.
Over there, behind those trees which had yet to come into bud, was the threshing barn and several store sheds, one of which held a bitter memory for Rowena. Oddly enough, that old, squat, wind-ravaged store shed was the very spot where she first had the idea for this business venture.
A dozen years ago, when she was a child, standing outside that shed, peeping in through a knothole, she had her young eyes opened to things she should never have known about. That was how all this began.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Georgia Fox has lived in many different places, including a canal boat, but sadly never in a windmill or a lighthouse. Maybe that's next! She loves good company, spicy food, thought-provoking erotica and excellent brandy. She also enjoys pushing the boundaries.
In her life she’s done a little bit of everything and somehow lived to tell the tales. Except those she's legally bound not to spill - for now.
She doesn’t believe in fairies, ghosts, flying saucers or conspiracy theories.
But she still believes in love.
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