by Em Taylor
“Why do you wish to go to Gretna,” he asked, feeling as though he may be walking atop broken glass and thus treading very carefully. “You have nothing of which to be ashamed.”
“Except a bastard child.”
“I never want to hear you describe Eleanor in that way again,” he growled through gritted teeth. He knew she loved her daughter and he knew it pained her to talk of Eleanor so.
“It is what she is and how the world sees her.”
“She is naught more than a babe. I care not what the world thinks.”
“Society will call her that anyway. The Countess of Whitsnow’s bastard. Or mayhap the cuckolded Earl of Whitsnow and the bastard in his household.”
“Stop! Just stop calling her that. We shall find a way to make her accepted into society. Please Lucy. Give me time and trust me.” He did have an idea of how this might happen. But it did depend on how things proceeded with Lieutenant Dick later today. Lucy’s bottom lip stuck out petulantly, and he could not help bending down and pressing his lips to it. “Do not be vexed with me, Lucy, my darling. I want what is best for the child. Do you actually want me to think of her as nothing more than your bastard offspring? I have grown very fond of her and I would hope to treat her like the rest of our children once we have them.”
“You would really treat her the same?”
“Of course.”
“And what do you really propose to do with the other six orphans?”
He shrugged. “I promised they could stay. I cannot promise they shall end up married to young ladies of the ton, but we shall prepare them for service and make sure they are placed in good employment when they are old enough. We shall house, feed and teach them in the manor.”
“And when we go to London?”
“Do you wish to take them?”
“Of course.”
The thought had never occurred to him. He assumed they would stay at Aelton Manor. He gave a soft sigh. “What the lady wants, the lady gets.”
“I am not titled yet.”
“You shall be. We shall be a merry band travelling to London with a coach full of children and nurses and your maid and my valet and us in our own carriage. With you eventually swelling with my babe in your belly.” He rubbed her flat stomach and pressed his lips to her neck. “Damn, why did I swear I would not touch you until our wedding. I am such a fool.”
“I must admit…” Her voice had a slight huskiness to it. “While I may wish to find out if it is possible to make love in a moving carriage, I would not like to arrive at an asylum looking thoroughly tumbled, My Lord. They may just force me to remain there and that would not do. I believe young ladies who go astray often end up in such places.”
“Not when they are in the company of gentlemen.”
“You do realise that it is quite improper for us to be travelling alone together.”
“That is why your maid is with the driver. So that when we stop at the next coaching in, she can join us. I am not completely without social graces, Miss Butterworth.”
“Without enough of them for a gentle kiss, I hope. Gently though, so I do not end up with a red face from your day beard.”
“My valet only shaved me but an hour ago. I am still smooth as a new-born’s backside.”
She lifted ungloved fingers to his chin and rubbed gentle. “Ah yes. Very smooth indeed.”
He pressed his lips to hers and she capitulated, opening her mouth and pressing her tongue to the seam of his lips immediately. He groaned and pressed her back against the window of the carriage. The carriage shuddered as it went over a rut on the road and their heads banged off each other. Robert uttered a foul word and jumped back from her.
“I apologise. Kissing in a carriage is clearly dangerous. I should hate you to have a bleeding lip on your arrival because I have accidentally bitten you.”
He sat back on his seat, frowning and looking just like the man she had first met in the street who had nearly tripped over Eleanor.
“It is fine, Robert. We are unharmed.”
“You must be more careful.”
“I must be? I think it was a mutual kiss, My Lord.”
“Look Em…”
“I am not your sister.”
He glowered at her for a moment then shook his head. “Of course not. I am so used to scolding her for getting into scrapes and nearly being injured that it still sometimes comes naturally. Lucy?” He stared down at his gloves on his hands.
“Yes.”
“I feel like we are doing things to deal with your past, but I do worry sometimes about my own tendencies.”
“Your own tendencies? Are you a molly?”
He looked at her, non-plussed for a moment and then burst out laughing. “No. I… No. I would have thought the number of times I have been pressed up against you with my cock straining against my breeches would have put that idea to rest. I am most definitely aroused by ladies. You in particular.”
“Oh. Well I spoke to your sister and she explained to me all about Lord Byron and why he is in Italy now. She said she had no idea about your sexual proclivities but if you were to be interested in that particular uh… position and entrance, that we should discuss it first. And that I could confide in her because she would never take it to the authorities.”
“Yes, you said. The first time we made love. But no, I have no desire to take you in that position but if I change my mind, your enthusiasm to please me has been noted.”
“What about you using your tongue down…”
“Perfectly normal.”
“How do you know?”
He rolled his eyes. “I just do.”
“How do you know?”
“My love, do you always have to ask such awkward and embarrassing questions?”
“Yes.” He smiled then. At least she was honest, he supposed.
“When I first went to town as a young man I took a couple of mistresses, one after the other. They both had some experience. They both asked me to perform that particular act on them and guided me on how to give them pleasure. No woman since has ever been horrified at the idea of me doing such a thing to them. Well, apart from one and I suspect her husband had been rather a dull dog in the bedchamber. Candles out, one position and never giving her any pleasure. She was quite surprised when she came off the first time. But she did not complain.”
“You sound quite proud of your prowess.”
“Proud, no. Confident that I can please you for the rest of our lives and that you will please me for the rest of our lives too? Absolutely.”
She dragged in a breath as though steadying herself. “You have more confidence that I have, My Lord. I mean confidence in me.”
“It is quite interesting to me to note that I have never felt any form of infatuation for a woman before. When I met you that day in the village, after nearly tripping over Eleanor, I could not get you out of my head. I still think about you constantly and it is not just because you are in my house or have been in my bed. If you were just in the village I would be there constantly hoping for a glimpse. You have beguiled me. And you make my cock very hard.” He finished, grinning as her cheeks flushed with colour. “Ah we appear to be slowing down for the inn. You have been saved from any more of my advances.”
∞ ∞ ∞
They arrived at the asylum a couple of hours later. Lucy had been there before, of course. Years before, just after Eleanor had been born, when she had arrived back from her great aunt’s and her confinement. She had come to see if she could get through to Edward. To see if his new status as a father would be enough to bring him back from wherever that bullet had sent him. She had come four times, until the day he had ignored her entirely and she had realised there was absolutely no hope.
But those were foolish dreams of a young woman who still desired a perfect life. She had been desperate for her bastard daughter to have a father who acknowledged her and wanted her.
In all honesty, Lucy was not sure now that, even had Edward returned f
rom the war unharmed, he would have wanted his daughter. Perhaps Edward would have accused her of infidelity. There was no way to prove that Eleanor was his child, even though she had lain with no one else, at least not until Robert and that was just a few days ago.
Robert raised his eyebrows as the carriage travelled though the large wrought iron gates and into the expansive courtyard of the asylum. She could tell the Tudor mansion was not what he had pictured as a place where lunatics would be housed.
“I have no idea how Mrs Dick pays for Edward’s care, but she manages. This is a private asylum. They treat the patients as they would anyone of their station. Edward is a gentleman. He may not be a nobleman like you, My Lord, but he is entitled to a certain amount of deference, even if he is not able to appreciate it.”
“I understand. I have just heard so much about Bedlam and obviously many jokes about being sent there. This looks entirely different from that establishment.”
“It is. I know little of Bedlam, but I have heard the jesting. They do not tie him down unless absolutely necessary. He has his own clothes and a man-servant—like a valet, I suppose. I think he needs more intimate help than you need from your valet though. I suspect you put on your own breeches.”
“Damned right I do.”
“Edward is unable to do simple tasks like that. He needs a clout, like a baby. He is unable to tell when he needs to visit the necessary. Well, he was unable to tell last time I visited. Perhaps he has improved. I have been remiss and have not visited. I could not face it. Besides, I had the children to care for. One of whom he had created.”
“We shall see if he is willing or capable of taking responsibility for her.”
“I see no reason for this, My Lord.” Suddenly the idea of facing Edward made her heart beat faster but not in a good way. Not in the way that Robert made her heart thunder when he stood near her and cupped her cheek. Not the way she felt when she was aware of Robert’s very male, very aroused presence close to hers.
“We need to know before I assert any responsibility for her.”
“Why? Even if he is well, he has shown no interest in Eleanor.”
“Then let us find out for certain. Are you afraid, my love?” The fact they were talking so frankly in front of her maid was not lost on Lucy.
“I am uncomfortable. Mayhap there is fear in there too.”
“I shall be with you. You have nothing about which to worry yourself. When all of this is over, we shall be marrying. Nothing that happens inside that building shall change that. Now come.”
He rapped on the door and the coachman, who already had the steps down, opened the door. Robert bounced out and stretched his arm back in to hand her down. There was nothing else for it but to get out and face this particular demon. Robert gave her a reassuring smile as she descended from the coach, then, very properly, offered her his sleeve. She placed her fingers on it and realised that this was the first time they had been in public together. They had never touched each other in such a proper way. It had either been no touching or completely inappropriate. She chuckled and he raised an eyebrow. Lucy shook her head and Robert, the font of all propriety merely nodded his head and led her to the door, which seemed to open magically as they approached. Of course, the footmen inside would have heard their footsteps on the gravel, not to mention the trundling of the carriage and the clatter of horses’ hooves into the courtyard.
“The Earl of Whitsnow and Miss Butterworth to see Lieutenant Edward Dick,” Robert said to an austere looking, silver-haired man who resembled a butler in any great mansion in Mayfair.
“You are relatives?”
“Friends. We come from the same locality. I am the most senior nobleman in the area and Miss Butterworth and Lieutenant Dick were very close friends before he went to war.”
“Very well, My Lord.”
He led them along a large oak-panelled corridor to a large set of double doors. The building was beautifully decorated, paintings hung on the walls—landscapes mostly. Lucy’s stomach seemed to be tying itself in knots. This had been a very bad idea.
“How does Lieutenant Dick fair? Is he well?”
“Physically he is fine. He is however very sick in the head. The bullet left a hole. It has healed over but the damage to his brain is irreversible. He has violent mood swings and dreadful memory lapses. We mostly have male patients and staff. Which is for the best in Lieutenant Dick’s case. He cannot always control himself around young ladies, whatever their station in life. Perhaps you should stay outside, My Lady.”
“No. I must see him. We must discuss the matter we came to discuss.”
“How much does he remember of life before the war?” Robert asked.
“Depends on what day it is. Sometimes he is lucid and recalls everything. Sometimes he thinks he is a youth of say sixteen.”
“I see. Do you know what he thinks today?”
The man showing them to Edward’s room grimaced. “When I said it depends on which day, I should have said, it depends on what moment you speak to him. It varies from hour to hour sometimes.”
“I understand. Thank you for being so forthright.”
“This is his room. The bell is next to the fireplace if you need any help. If he becomes at all violent or…”
“I am sure we shall be fine.”
“I can come in with you or arrange a member of staff…”
“That shall not be necessary.”
“But the lady…”
“Is under my protection and I can and shall protect her if necessary.”
“As you wish, My Lord.”
He leaned over and opened the door into a small but comfortable drawing room. Edward looked up from gazing into the fire. Lucy noted that he looked better than he had when she had last seen him, just a few months after his return from war. But compared to his former strong, handsome self, he was a shadow of the confident, gentleman farmer he’d been raised to become. War really was a disgusting thing.
“Lieutenant Dick, I am Lord…”
“Whitsnow! I remember you.” Edward pushed slowly to his feet and held out his hand. He moved like a man three times his age. He lowered his head deferentially. “And who is this pretty filly you have with you?”
“The young lady is Miss Butterworth. You used to be acquainted.”
Edward pursed his lips and regarded her. “Your bosom is bigger, and your lips are fuller. I know where I would like those lips.” He winked at Robert. “Had them there already. She’s a bit of a lightskirt.”
Lucy placed her hand on Robert’s arm. It was like iron and she knew he was using every ounce of willpower not to plant a facer on the man.
“He does not know what he is saying, Robbie.” The name that she only used in private seemed to have some effect. At least he stopped holding his breath. “Sit down, My Lord and I shall sit beside you.” She gestured to a chaise opposite the seat on which Edward had been sitting when they had entered. Robert waited for her to sit before seating himself beside her. She was very aware of the fact that he was touching her. It was quite inappropriate, but Robert was staking his claim and Lucy was glad.
“Lieutenant Dick, you rightly indicated that I was loose with my favours towards you when we knew each other six years ago. We had…” she turned to Robert and huffed out a little breath, feeling the flush rising up her neck as the embarrassment of her situation closed in on her. Robert opened his mouth to save her, but she tapped his knee and carried on. “You did convince me to have relations with you of a rather intimate nature.”
“I did?”
“You did. In the cowshed.”
“You lifted your skirts for me in the cowshed?” A lascivious grin spread across his face and his hand moved towards the falls of his trousers. “Well you are quite lovely. Perhaps…”
“No, Lieutenant. I think not. We have come here to discuss the consequences of those few occasions when I thought you would return from war and marry me. When you said there would be no consequences.”
“Are you saying I gave you the French pox?”
Lucy blinked and turned to Robert. She had no idea what the man was on about. “The what?”
“No. Miss Butterworth does not think you gave her the French Pox.” Robert rubbed a hand over his face. “What I mean is Miss Butterworth has never had the French Pox.” He looked at her with a moment of doubt crossing his handsome features and a slightly raised eyebrow. Lucy merely shrugged. She had never heard of it. “There were other consequences of that night, Dick.”
“What night?”
“The times you had intercourse with Miss Butterworth.”
“I had sex with Miss Butterworth? Oh Lucy. I remember Lucy. Pretty little filly. Big breasts. Sucked my…”
“Yes, you said. You left her carrying your child when you went off to war.”
“My child?”
“Yes. She was pregnant.”
“Who was?”
“Miss Butterworth.”
“That Miss Butterworth?” He pointed at Lucy.
“Yes.”
“Congratulations. Is it his?”
Lucy thought now would be a good time to be run over by a stagecoach and horses.
At that moment the door swung open. Perhaps the stagecoach had arrived to kill her, but alas, when she looked, it was Mrs Dick, Edward’s mother, red-faced, bosom heaving with the effort of hurrying here, and a countenance that suggested she was less than happy.
“I heard you had visitors, Edward.” She turned to Lucy and Robert. “My Lord, Miss Butterworth.” She bobbed the shallowest of curtseys.
Robert stood and bowed. “Mrs Dick, we were visiting your son to see how he was and…”
“I understand why you are here, My Lord. I should like to speak to Miss Butterworth. Shall we take a turn about the garden?”
Lucy bit her lip. She had never been Mrs Dick’s favourite person. But she nodded and accepted Robert’s hand to help her stand. He squeezed her hand in an encouraging manner then let it go. She followed the older woman outside and they walked a little way from the house before Mrs Dick spoke.
“Everyone in the village knows the deaf girl is your bastard. Do not think to pass her off as my son’s child.”