"You will do nothing of the kind, you old reprobate. And if you dare stop her making my cakes, I'll steal her away and take her to the Americas with me."
Billy laughed and slapped his cap back on his head, then went over to where the boys were still struggling to control the roan.
"See 'ere? Even Moonshine know'd ye were back. T'ought sure he were goin' to kick down the doors o' the barn last night."
Justin patted the stallion's neck affectionately, feeding him an apple from his pocket. "Did he now. In that case I'd best give him a taste of the wind before he throws me over for another master."
"N'owt much chance o' that 'appenin." The old groom chuckled. "Master Yewgene tried to ride 'im once. Tried to take ol' Moonshine out an ended up arse down on the muck pile."
Justin laughed. "I hope you rewarded the beast with an extra rasher of oats."
The groom snorted. "Two. An' a bin o' carrots."
Justin ran his hand along the roan's neck, gathered the reins and swung his powerful frame into the saddle. As the stallion pranced with impatience, sending the stableboys scrambling aside, something made Justin glance up at the second storey window. China was not expecting it, thus had no time to lean back from the window before he saw her watching.
Below, Justin smiled to himself. He had not quite figured out how his brother had managed the betrothal to Timothy Grant's daughter, but he could well imagine why.
Poor little China Rose. Did she know she was about to become a pawn in a very ugly game? No, not likely. Not likely at all.
CHAPTER FIVE
Tea with the Reverend Mr. Fellows proved to be a pleasant, amiable experience. Much to China's relief and surprise, Sir Ranulf was gracious and charming and so attentive, he utterly destroyed all of her resolves to match his aloofness with her own.
She had dressed with a deliberate eye toward quashing any criticisms about her appearance from the outset. The mignonette green frock she chose had been one of the very few new purchases made before her trip to Portsmouth. The underskirt of smooth, flowing muslin was high-waisted and edged with a delicate ruff at the neck and cuffs. The pelisse was of a deeper shade of hunting green, buttoned modestly over the bodice and opening in a wide vee to display the froth of pale green beneath. Her bonnet was the same dark green, cut in front to display the lace undercap, and trimmed with velvet ribbons and a spray of soft ostrich feathers.
Sir Ranulf had been suitably taken aback. He studied her face as if seeing it for the first time. The hand that assisted her in and out of the carriage was firm and possessive, almost reluctant to let go.
The vicar was elderly, bubbling over with enthusiasm that Lord Cross had finally chosen a bride. His ebullience could not help but work wonders on China's sagging confidence; that and Sir Ranulf's apparent change of heart made the two hour meeting fly past. By the time the carriage drew up for the return to Braydon Hall, she was smiling, feeling eighteen and pretty again instead of eighty and dour. She did not press quite so closely into the corner of the coach on the ride back, nor did she flinch when her gloved hand accidentally brushed against his thigh.
As for Ranulf, he had to admit the change in the girl was remarkable. She was nowhere near as plain as his initial impression had branded her. The wide blue eyes and midnight black hair was a pleasing contrast, and the figure he had assumed to be thin and boney beneath the dowdy black mourning clothes, proved to be willowy and lithe. Several times during tea he had found himself watching the girl. She was nowhere near as exuberant, in either character or proportions, as Bessy Toone, and she would most certainly never match the animal lust with which his new mistress fell on him. But delicacy and gentility had its rewards. He might well welcome the shy gratitude of the marriage bed as a change from the calculated plunder he underwent when lashed to Bessy.
Moreover, he needed an heir. A legitimate heir. China Grant's bloodlines were excellent despite some of her fathers less than wise business decisions. Wed and bred, she would make the perfect hostess, perfect mother, perfect compliment for his political ambitions.
"I thought that went rather well," he said, breaking the silence in the carriage. "The vicar is rather young, but what he lacks in experience, he makes up for with enthusiasm."
"He certainly does," she agreed with a smile. She had been aware of Ranulf's eyes on her through most of the meeting and now, as then, her cheeks warmed in response.
"He tends to run on quite a bit, but I think he approves of the future Lady Cross. To be frank, so do I, and I should like to take this opportunity to apologize for my behavior last night and this morning. I have been unconscionably rude and thoughtless, neither of which are qualities I admire in others and thus, abhor in myself. Do be honest with me, Miss Grant. Were you having second thoughts as to the wisdom of this union?"
China's eyes were drawn upward to lock on his. He smiled...indeed, he even laughed when he read the answer in her eyes and in the darkening blush on her cheeks.
"Come now. Tell me what you think of me. I promise not to react too badly to the truth."
China moistened her lips and tried to keep her heart from beating out of her chest. "You...are a very refined, highly respected gentleman," she said lamely.
"Ah, but that does not tell me what you think of me. Am I cold and heartless? Am I unapproachable and too harsh with my opinions? Come now. Anyone who could confront the Dragon Lady and demand a replacement for a chambermaid the first day in a strange house ought not to fear speaking her mind to me."
China nibbled on her lower lip. "You know about that?"
"It is my house. I know everything that happens under its roof--one way or another. Unfortunately Mrs. Biggs tends to assume that she is Braydon Hall. God knows she has been living under its roof longer than I have, and I dare say her family, or some member of it, has been in attendance in one role or another since the foundation stones were laid. She will take some getting used to; as well she will require a strong hand to deal with her if you hope to earn her respect. The row this morning, for instance. You were quite within your right to ask for a replacement for Tina. If the girl was surly and rude, she should be disciplined by all means. On the other hand, she is Mrs. Biggs' daughter."
"Her daughter? Oh dear."
"Indeed. And in her eyes, that gave her every right to reflect upon your...shall we say...less than formal upbringing in the country. Mrs. Biggs, quite bluntly, is a snob, and unfortunately it would seem her daughter has inherited the upturned nose."
China shook her head. "It was partly my fault, my Lord. It was a long day and I was short of temper."
"You were well within your rights, my dear. And I have made that quite clear to Mrs. Biggs. She now knows where my sentiments lie and you should have no more difficulties with either her or her daughter. But we digress. You have not yet told me if you think you can be content as my wife and mistress of Braydon Hall."
"I was not aware I had a choice."
"My dear, you always have a choice. I would never force myself or my will on a woman who finds the arrangement disagreeable. The marriage was proposed by your father. I would bear no grudge if you found his choice intolerable."
She blushed again. "I do not find you intolerable, my Lord. It's just that...everything seems to be happening so fast. I hardly know which way to turn, who to regard as friend or foe."
"Meaning my brothers?" Sir Ranulf sighed. "That, I'm afraid, I cannot rectify with a simple lecture. We three seem destined to chafe at one another's nerve endings for all eternity. The only consolation I can offer is that Justin will likely vanish across the horizon again soon, and Eugene...well, Eugene is mostly a harmless nuisance. He likes to pretend he has vast knowledge and great wit, but is the first to tuck tail and run if challenged to actually prove it. Neither should pose too great a problem in the coming months or years. I, however, can be impatient, dictatorial, and demanding. I have neither the time nor patience for fools or foolishness. Mine is a busy life with prospects of becoming busier as time prog
resses. It will not be an easy life to share, Miss Grant, nor I an easy man to learn to live with. The doubts are solely yours to resolve, and I will stand by your decision."
It was, China realized, the nearest thing to a proposal she had been offered.She studied the handsome face in this new light. Was it possible that she was the one who had been at fault from the beginning? Had she expected roses and bon bons and declarations of love? Had she passed too hasty a judgment when she was met with cold, hard reality instead? She should hardly have expected a man like Sir Ranulf Cross to throw himself at her like a lovesick boy. She was the intruder here and so far she had done nothing to prove she was anything other than an ignorant, unrefined farm girl lacking even the sense enough not to wander about the house late at night wearing only a flimsy nightdress and robe.
Perhaps her father had wisely seen where the isolation of Devonshire would only keep her ignorant and unrefined. Perhaps this was his way of improving her lot, bringing her back into society. Few would snub the wife of Lord Ranulf Cross.
Sir Ranulf claimed she still had a choice, to marry him or not. China Grant did not agree.
"I thank you for your honesty and your candor," she said softly. "I believe I could be quite content as your wife."
Sir Ranulf's hand lifted and touched her cheek, brushing it lightly, forcing her to raise her eyes to his again. Her heart was pounding in her chest as he leaned over and claimed the softness of her lips with his own. She was startled enough to try to pull away, but his hand was there, sliding to the nape of her neck, using gentle insistence to govern the length of the kiss.
When the pressure was released, China was wide-eyed and caught in the grips of a series of tiny shivers that rippled down her spine and pooled somewhere at the base of her belly.
Ranulf leaned back, a smile playing across his lips. "It appears as though we have overcome several obstacles this afternoon. I have every reason to believe these next two weeks will fly by on winged feet."
CHAPTER SIX
Bessy Toone sat at the small dressing table and hummed snatches of an off-key song as she brushed and tormented her curly red hair into a semblance of order. Her lips formed a perfect O of concentration, while farthing-sized eyes strained to see the back and sides of her coiffure.
"One foin day me luv," she sang, "one foin day, de dee dee dum..."
There. Done. Bathed and primped and powdered and curled to within an inch of her life. She could bloody well go to court, she could.
She switched songs mid-stream and began whistling as she altered the straps of her flaming pink chemise and grinned at her own reflection.
"Ah me luvly duckies." She cupped the fullness of her breasts in her hands, pushing them up to mound over the sheer fabric of the chemise. She studied the creamy half moons intently, searching for any marks or flaws. There were none. A wonder, considering their size and the rigors of affection they were subjected to. Men loved them; loved to hold and fondle and suckle them, to speak to them and bury their faces between them. And Bessy had no objections as long as their coin was good. Sometimes she even liked it too much. Like now. All preened and smelling of lilacs and there was no one coming to visit.
Not even her newest conquest, Sir Ranulf Cross.
She glanced at the note on the dressing table. It had arrived an hour earlier advising her his planned visit for that evening was postponed, though in honesty she was not surprised. She doubted he would have had the energy.
She winked at the mirror and praised her talents with a naughty grin.
Except of course, now she was bored. If she cocked her head toward the door she could hear faint sounds of music and laughter coming from Miss Emmeline's main parlor two floors below. She had few friends amongst the girls and had not been at the establishment long enough to know one or two of the regular male visitors. Not that she was allowed to entertain anyone in Sir Ranulf's private apartment. Not that there was anyone she particularly wanted to entertain.
None save one.
She had heard his ship was in. Docked a few nights past with his holds bulging full of rich cargo. There would be celebrations galore along Gracey Street. Dancing and singing. The waterfront taverns would be ablaze with lights and laughter and fun now that Captain Jason Savage was back in Portsmouth.
Bessy stared dejectedly at the mirror for a moment. It was his own fault if he went looking for her and found she had up and moved away. He should have taken her with him when he left, like he'd promised. Or set her up somewhere proper instead of leaving her to fend for herself.
"Well I done all right, Jason Savvich," she muttered. "Done better'n all right on me own. Got me a quality gen'lman, one 'oo treats me just foin."
She sighed and glared at the ruched crowns of her breasts. Just thinking of Jason Savage put her in a bad way, made her whole body tingle and glow.
"Ooo I 'ope yer 'avin ter bang it on the wall, me luv. I 'ope yer missin' yer Bess. I 'opes the best yer can do is Fat Lima, 'er with the pox so bad 'er teeth 'as all come out. Mayhap she'll take yer there, luv, an' pleasure yer by gummin' her 'arf ter death. All the same ter 'er an' proberly 'ealthier fer you."
She sighed mightily and propped her chin in her hands. "All primped an' powdered an'..."
"Bessy!"
She jumped, hearing the crash of a fist on the door.
"Bessy! Goddammit Bessy, are you in there?"
Bessy's perfectly puckered little mouth gaped open. It wasn't possible. She had just been thinking of him! She couldn't have conjured him out of the air like that. It had to be her imagination. Or a mean joke being played on her by one of the girls at Miss Emm's.
"A count of three, Bess my girl, and this door and all it is attached to goes. One..."
Jason! Jason Savage!
"...two..."
"Jay!" She jumped up and ran to the door, flinging it open with another cry. "Noooo! It just ain't possible."
Jason Savage, in all his bold, windswept splendor, stood with his hands on his hips, his legs splayed as if he was still on the deck of a rolling ship. An arrogant, no-nonsense grin split his face.
"Well I'll be double damned," he said and laughed. "It's true. My Bess has up and found herself a gilded cage. A far prettier one than I could have given too, aye, by the look of it. No wonder you up and left me."
"You left me," she cried, still in shock. "Wi'out a nod or a pat on me arse or anything."
"The excise men were after me. I had to move fast."
"Yer coulda wrote!"
"You can't read."
"I could've 'ad One Eye Charlie read it ter me."
Savage advanced a step. "And had the whole world knowing what was going on in my head, not to mention the rest of my body?" He tossed his hat through the doorway. "Not likely, wench. It was bad enough I've had to question half of Portsmouth to find you."
She lowered her hands from where they had been clasped over her heart. "Did yer? Did yer truly?"
"Truly I did. Have I ever been able to lie to you with my two sweethearts staring me straight in the eye?"
Bessy squealed in delight and threw herself into Captain Jason Savage's outstretched arms. He laughed and hugged her to his chest, feeling her hands and greedy little lips plucking at him. He kissed her soundly, ravaging her mouth, not stopping until she was whimpering and squirming in his arms. He scooped her up and came fully into the room, kicking the door solidly shut behind them.
"Gawd, Jay," she cried in a gasp for air, "yer can't arf know what it's been like without yer."
Savage arched an eyebrow and glanced around the well appointed room. The bed was a tall, broad four poster. The ceilings were fifteen feet high with double sashed windows stretching along one wall, the light dampened by red damask curtains.
"I can see how you have been suffering, my pet."
"It's n'owt better'n a cage. A bleedin' cage. But wot else did yer expect me ter do? I thought yer was gone. I thought yer was never comin' back. I 'ad ter do sum'mit. That old piker Pritch was pantin'
an' sweatin' ter lay 'is 'ands on me not five minutes after we 'eard the Reunion had left port. Poked me once too, 'ee did, with a knife, when I larfed at the size of what else 'ee tried to poke me wif. Here...see it fer yerself if'n yer don't believe me."
She thrust a rounded hip forward and hiked up the ruffled petticoat to bare the skin to the waist, revealing a scar better than three finger widths long.
"See? 'Ee cut me, 'ee did."
Savage touched the scar gently with a thumb, his face losing all trace of good humor. "What happened?"
"Wot 'appened? I told yer wot 'appened. Ee tried ter fuck me. Stuck me quiet wif 'is knife an' climbed right on as if 'ee owned me. But I weren't as scairt of 'im as 'ee'd've liked me ter be. I gives 'im a count o' two strokes ter think I'm nice an' calm, then blam! Up comes me knee an' there goes ol' Pritch near flyin' through the air. Caught 'is little dickie bird square on, I did. Felt 'is ballocks squish an' pop. I'll lay yer odds 'ee's still squealin' like a pig when 'ee takes a piss."
Jason's dangerous calm gave way to humor again. He saw the twinkle of mischief in Bessy's eyes and grinned broadly. He reached out and twisted his hand around a fistful of her chemise, drawing her forward into another long, wet, hot embrace. When it ended, he tore the chemise open and bent his dark head to her breasts, sucking, licking, biting, growling.
Bessy's knees started to buckle under the assault and he lifted her into his arms, carrying her to the bed and spilling her onto the mattress in a tumble of red curls and frothing petticoats.
"Naked, girl. Now," he growled, beginning to tear off his clothes. "I've waited about as long as a man ought to wait and still hope to keep his sanity."
Bessy rolled onto her knees and quick as a wink the chemise was gone, the petticoats were cast aside like falling clouds. When she was naked, she wriggled eagerly closer to the edge of the bed and started helping Jason with his buckles and buttons.
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