Lord Whitsnow and the Seven Orphans

by Em Taylor

  “Kissing.” That was sort of the truth.

  “Kissing? Kissing whom?”

  “No one in particular really. I was just thinking it was a long time since I had kissed anyone.” He approached her.

  “My Lord, the servants,” she reminded him.

  “I saw them all leave when you were having your little tantrum about Eleanor on the horse.”

  “It was not a tantrum.”

  “It looked like one from where I was standing.”

  “I thought she was unsafe.”

  “Because as the male of the species I am incapable of nurturing and ensuring the safety of the young of the species?” He was standing too close to her now—far too close to be appropriate.

  “Stop putting words into my mouth, you boorish man.”

  “You find me boorish.” His lips quirked up at that. “Better to be boorish than boring, do you not think?”

  “You are no gentleman, My Lord.”

  “I only ever claimed to hold a title, Miss Butterworth. I never claimed any gentlemanly graces. You assumed I had them. You should ask my sister. She finds me an utter failure in the kindness department.”

  “Am I… going to come to harm here?”

  That gave Robert pause.

  He lifted her hand, surprised to find she had no gloves on. He pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the inside of her wrist. It drew a gasp from her. His gaze returned to hers.

  “You know you are in no danger here or you would have stayed in your brother’s house and awaited your fate. Instead you came here with the sole intention of eventually marrying me.”

  “No, I did not. I cannot marry you.”

  “You can, and you will. I want you, my darling and by the time this month is over, you will be a permanent fixture in my bed.”

  “I have told you before that I cannot marry.”

  “Why? There is no reason for you not to marry. We established you are not already married. Are you deformed?”

  “Deformed?”

  “I don’t know, maybe… um down below. I have never seen a woman deformed down below but I suppose…”

  “No.” Her cheeks were flushing bright red. Robert struggled to hide his amusement.

  “I am happy to take a look for you. I mean, with my expert knowledge, I could give you an honest appraisal. I almost feel honour bound as a gentleman to offer now.”

  “My Lord, there is nothing wrong down below.”

  “Are you quite sure? My examination would be very thorough, and I have warm hands.”

  “You are abhorrent.”

  “And yet the corners of your mouth are trying so very hard not to turn up into a smile. There is a little bit in you, Miss Butterworth, a little wicked bit of you that would like to take me up on my offer, is there not?”

  He was serious now and she knew it. He could see the way her gaze sought the real him in the depth of his eyes. Her tongue darted out and licked her lips.

  “I could not take you up on your offer because it is not done, My Lord.” And then she lifted her skirts just enough so she could turn and flee the stables at a full run.

  Robert moved back to Apollo, saddled him, found a set of reins to put on him and mounted the beast.

  “My Lord, you should have shouted for me,” said Jim, the stable lad.

  “No need. I was happy to do it for once.”

  “Is the lady giving you grief? I find the girls like a nice walk by the waterfall. All romantic, you know.”

  “I see. That’s the sum total of your wisdom on women.”

  “Well that and take a bit of time before you ask to feel their breasts.”

  Robert barked out a laugh. “Yes, that is true. How long is an adequate bit of time?”

  “Take her to the waterfall at least once.”

  “I see. I shall consider your wise words.”

  “Jim, I hope you’re not bothering His Lordship,” said the stablemaster, Mr Mellings, coming into the stables.

  “Not at all. He was giving me sage advice. About women.”

  “Was he. You know he got that black eye from Annie Harlow, don’cha?”

  “I did not.”

  “He got fresh with her and she was none too pleased.”

  “Hmm, maybe you want to take these girls to the waterfall twice then, eh?”

  Robert was still chuckling to himself as he led Apollo out through the yard and into a field where he and the animal could get some decent exercise. How long until he could feel Lucy’s breasts? Too damned long, in his opinion.

  Chapter 9

  She was depraved. It was the only answer. Every time she was near the Earl she wanted to kiss him or wrap her arms around him or let him do wicked things to her. And when he had offered the other day to inspect her most intimate area, she had been tempted. Even though she would never have done it, he had been right. The wicked part of her wanted it.

  For two days she had allowed him to spend time with Eleanor, teaching her to ride on an old side-saddle which had been used by his sister. He was also teaching the boys to ride at a separate time. He had mentioned that being able to ride a horse would give them the skills to work in stables and with blacksmiths. She had not disagreed.

  For the most part however, she had done her level best to keep the children to a routine in the schoolroom at the top of the old manor house and to avoid His Lordship where possible.

  This evening, Miss Davis had retired immediately after dinner with a headache but for Lucy, it was far too early, and she would not sleep. Tea had been served in the drawing room and she was curled up reading a book, her slippers lying abandoned on the floor, her stockinged feed tucked under her. When the door opened, she assumed it was Miss Davis having forgotten her embroidery.

  “I doubt you need to worry about His Lordship finding it and finishing off that flower before you get up in the morning, Susan. You could have just left it,” she said with a chuckle.

  “Am I renowned for eating flowers?” a very male, slightly amused voice asked.

  Lucy nearly broke her neck wrenching it around to see the man who stood next to the other chair next to the fire.

  “My Lord, I thought you were Miss Davis back for her embroidery.”

  “Sorry to disappoint. It is just me.”

  “Then I should go.”

  “Why?”

  “It is improper for us to be alone, in the evening in a room together.”

  “And you are naïve enough to think that everyone in Cumberland does not already think you are warming my bed? Come, Lucy. You are not a stupid woman.”

  “I… No, I do not think that. They cannot think that. Why else would I have brought Miss Davis?”

  “Because it was expected. Because you wanted to give this an air of respectability even though you knew fine how scandalous it is.”

  “You knew this was inappropriate.”

  “So did you. He sat down and lifted a cup gesturing that she, as the lady of the house should pour it.

  Lucy stood, her face hot with shame and tears burning behind her eyes.

  “Pour your own god-damned tea. You tricked me.” She started to move to the door, but he was quicker grabbing her by the waist and spinning her against his body.

  “No, I did not trick you. You could have said no at any time. You could even have bargained to live in the dower house. Did that not even cross your mind?”

  “N-n-no.”

  “If you had truly not wanted to be here, you would have looked for other alternatives. You’re an intelligent woman. Tell me, Lucy, honestly. What do you want. Right now. Right at this second. What is the deepest desire of your heart.”

  Lucy’s eyes were drawn to his lips, soft looking, surrounded by stubble, not mocking.

  “This is too much, My Lord.”

  “Then show me what you want. Take it.”

  Lucy could not resist. She placed a hand on each of his cheeks and drew his lips to hers, angling her head at the last moment and capturing his lips in an open-mout
hed kiss. Lord Whitsnow groaned as one of his hands slipped down onto her bottom to draw her against him and the other moved into her hair to guide her head. One of her own hands moved to the nape of his neck as the other slid under his coat and around his waist. The kiss deepened, and Lucy realised that while she had been kissed before, it had not been like this. Whitsnow was desperate, but then, so was she. The hard length of him was pressing against her belly and she liked the feel of it and the promise of it.

  Oh, but this was all too much. She was just about the start panicking when Lord Whitsnow withdrew from the kiss, panting and moved her head onto his chest.

  “Good God, Lucy, are you trying to send me to Bedlam. A man only has so much self-control.”

  “My Lord, I… this changes nothing. I cannot marry you.”

  “I wish two things. That you would call me Robert and that you would tell me why you think you cannot marry me.”

  “It is not appropriate for me to call you Robert.”

  “But it is appropriate for your belly to be nestled against my hard, aching prick?”

  “Pardon?”

  “Oh, come now, you cannot tell me you are unaware of it. It keeps jerking against you because it thinks it is getting some action with a woman at long last.”

  “When you say a woman, what other action does it get?”

  As soon as the words were out, she regretted asking. That was personal.

  “Well, men need a release regularly, so I take it in my hand and I stroke it. But until the day you gave me a dressing down in the street, I have been doing it with thoughts of faceless women in my head. Since that day, however, you have occupied my thoughts and I have fantasised about you as I have brought myself to orgasm.”

  “I…I am not sure how to feel about that.”

  “Feel flattered. If I am honest, I have never fantasised about a particular woman before. You have beguiled me. I see you and I become aroused. I talk to you and I am enchanted. We swap verbal barbs and I dare to dream that I can seduce you.”

  “But you cannot. It can never be, Robert. It is a foolish dream.”

  “Why. God damn it, woman.”

  “Please, Robert. Do not make this harder than it is.”

  “Believe me sweetling, it is as hard as it can get with you pressed against it.”

  “You are incorrigible.”

  He pressed a sweet kiss to her lips. “I like to think so.” Then he pressed his lips to hers again, this time cupping her breast and running his thumb lightly over the straining nipple. She moaned into the kiss before stepping back. This was so different to her previous experience. The previous experience had been mechanical and considered. This seemed so much more organic and natural. And she could so easily get swept away in the moment with this man and she could not allow it to happen.

  “This has to end,” she said, stepping back. “I shall take the children back home tomorrow.”

  “Stay, please. You promised me a month to convince you to marry me.”

  “I cannot and will not marry you.”

  “Why?”

  “You do not need to know the reason why.”

  “I shall find out.”

  “No, you shall not. I am going to bed.” She was no longer in the mood for him.

  “I shall walk you to your bedchamber.”

  “There is no need.”

  “There is every need.”

  She swiped her slippers from the floor and headed to the door, but he was there holding it open for her. They walked in silence upstairs. When they got to her chamber she muttered a good night to him, but he placed a hand on the door jamb.

  “No kiss?”

  “No, My Lord.”

  He lifted his hand with an exaggerated sigh. “Oh, if you hear any long groans or shouts of your name, it is just me pleasuring myself. Pay it no heed. Sleep well, my sweet.” Then he turned and sauntered to his own room. It was then she realised her room was next to his. He did not sleep in the master chamber.

  Chapter 10

  “Miss Butterworth, I found this on the table in the foyer. It was not delivered with the rest of the post. At least I do not believe it was,” said Lang, the butler, looking a tad chagrined.

  “Thank you, Lang.” The letter was sealed with wax, but the seal had no discernible markings on it. The writing was a bit of a scrawl.

  She opened it and her insides grew cold as she started to read it.

  Dear Miss Butterworth

  I am saddened once again to see that you have fallen from the righteous path. You are nothing but a harlot. Those bastards are no better than the woman who is raising them. I know you were left a substantial portion of money by your great aunt. I also know you have your cap set at Lord Whitsnow. He shall not marry you if he knows the truth. I want five hundred pounds left in the hole in the old oak tree near the waterfall on the evening of May Day celebrations. If it is not there, Lord Whitsnow will know who are the parents of the bastard deaf girl.

  A concerned subject of King George III

  Lucy felt like casting up her accounts. Who could have written such a thing and how did they know so much? She thought the secret of Eleanor’s parentage was safe. She thought the shame of her past behaviour unknown. With shaking hands, she shoved the note into the pocket of her day dress and hurried out onto the terrace for some fresh air.

  She was gasping in some much-needed air when a low voice spoke in her ear.

  “You look delicious this morning.”

  “Get away from me, you beast. Go, get away!” She turned flapping her arms and waving him away.” He stepped back, his hands raised in surrender, his eyes wide with alarm and concern.

  “Lucy! What the devil…”

  She stopped flapping and hauled in another breath of air. Sanity seemed to return to her. She closed her eyes as shame swept over her.

  “I apologise, My Lord. You startled me.”

  “I shall be heavier footed in future.” She nearly managed a smile at that. “Are you sure you are well?”

  “Quite well. I just had a letter that upset me a little. But I am fine.”

  “Can I help?”

  “No, it is personal.”

  “I see. Well if you need anything at all, please ask.”

  Unless he had five hundred pounds he was willing to give her with no questions asked, she doubted he could help with this problem.

  Shouting from the other side of the house drew both their attention. It looked like she would have to work out what to do about her blackmailer later. It was still two weeks until May Day. They hurried around the outside of the house in time to see two coaches pulling up. A fine-looking gentleman disembarked once the steps were placed at the door and he handed down a pretty blonde lady who sought out Robert and came barrelling towards him, almost falling on the way and threw her arms around him.

  “Robert.”

  “Clumsy!”

  “Oh, you beast. You are not supposed to call me that anymore.”

  “Force of habit. Besides, my precious baby sister, how would you cope if I was nice to you. You would think I was my twin brother pretending to be me.”

  “There is a flaw in your argument.”

  “Oh yes.”

  “You do not have a twin brother.”

  “I do. He has been locked in the attic for thirty years.”

  “Oooh that sounds like a gothic novel. You should write it.”

  “I really should not.”

  “You are so boring, brother dearest.”

  “I know. It is a cross I must bear. That means you do not have to try very hard to be the fun-loving sibling.”

  “That tree is more fun-loving than you Robbie.”

  “You are too kind. Anyway, how is Lady Clumsy treating my nephew or niece.”

  “More to the point, how is your nephew or niece treating Lady Clumsy. He or she hates me. It’s always kicking me. In the stomach or in the bladder. I constantly have to go to the necessary.”

  “It is a trial, is it n
ot?” said Lucy without thinking. Both Lord Whitsnow and Lady Beattie looked at her.

  “Miss Butterworth?” inquired Lady Beattie.

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, how lovely to see you. It will be so nice to catch up with all the old neighbours. Robert, have you suddenly become sociable and started inviting the neighbours over. How hospitable of you. I am sorry he did not do it sooner. He’s such a beast. How are the children? I am so sorry about your great aunt.”

  Lucy was wrapped in an embrace, her faux pas forgotten, and they ended up in the drawing room having tea.

  “You wrote to me just days ago begging me to come to Town yet here you are,” Robert said. You very nearly arrived before your letter.

  “Well, yes, I knew you were not going to come so I had no fear of us passing you on the Great North Road. But you may have taken fright and run off somewhere had I not written my usual letter. So, I filled it with my usually requests and news.”

  “You think so little of me that I would beat a hasty and cowardly retreat to Scotland if I knew you were coming?” Robert asked.

  “I would have before I met Emily and fell head over ears in love,” said Gideon.

  Emily waved the men aside. “So, what brings you to Aelton Manor Miss Butterworth?”

  “I am currently staying here while Lord Whitsnow finds us more suitable accommodation.”

  “Are you?” asked Lord Beattie. “Is that wholly appropriate, Whitsnow. There shall be talk.”

  “It is none of your business. Besides, Miss Davis is here.”

  “This is Miss Davis whom we have not seen yet.”

  Robert narrowed his eyes at Lord Beattie. “You spent a week in a carriage with my unmarried sister. You are not in any position to talk, Beattie.”

  “I believe that I was eloping with your sister and had every intention of marrying her.”

  “And I have every intention of marrying Miss Butterworth.”

  “You do? Oh, how marvellous!” exclaimed Emily. “We shall be sisters. Much better a sister than a beastly brother. Oh, not that he is such a beast. Just when we were children.”

  “Clumsy,” Robert warned.

  “Whitsnow, are you trying to get me to plant you a facer?”

  Robert smirked and adjusted his shirt cuffs. “You think you could best me in the ring, Beattie? I should like to see you try.”