She gave the cushion a final smooth with her soft slender fingers and feigned innocence of her actions as she rose to greet him. When they were alone, he had taken to raising her hand to his lips and kissing her smooth knuckles. Tonight, he lingered. He looked into her eyes before turning her hand to place a kiss in the center of her palm.
“Oh,” she murmured. It stirred him greatly to hear her instant arousal.
He gripped her hand in his. In a deep velvety voice, he said, “Come, I have something to show you.”
He led her from the sitting room to Jonathan’s small alcove and then through the open door to his room.
“I have been waiting all afternoon to show you this.”
He pulled her through to his room until they were facing his bed.
She grinned up at him. “I have seen your bed before, unless you plan on showing me another aspect of it.”
He waggled his brows at her. “Well, that is an idea that has merit. One I would be thrilled to champion, but it is not the reason I brought you in here.” He pointed to the bundle wrapped with twine lying on the floor on one side of the enormous bed.
“What is it?”
“A present.”
“For me?”
“Of course it’s for you, why else would I have brought you in here?”
She looked sideways at him and arched her brow suggestively.
He chuckled. “Madame, had I known you were so interested in matters concerning my bed, I would have brought you here sooner. This morning at about four o’clock would have suited me just fine.”
She laughed and the mellifluous sound thrilled him to his core. He would never tire of that sound, it was both honeyed and dulcet and did magical things to his body every time he heard it.
He separated her hand from his and reached for the package. As he placed it on the edge of the bed she asked, “What is it?”
He smiled back at her and said, “Why don’t you open it and see?”
He watched her fingers probe and feel all around the bulky packaging that held several parcels together. He got lightheaded imagining those small, soft hands caressing and squeezing him in intimate places.
“It’s more than one thing,” she cried, “why it’s many little presents!”
“Indeed it is.” He grinned at her enthusiasm.
She hugged the bulky package to her chest and spun in a circle. “Where should I open it?”
He was about to suggest they sit on his bed, but thought better of it. “Let’s take it to my sitting room, there you can sit on the settee and spread your bounty out around you.”
“Why did you do this?” she said with unsurpassed glee. He wanted in that moment to give her the world. Instead, he took the package from her and carried it to his sitting room. When she sat, he deposited it in her lap along with a pair of scissors to cut the string.
Like a little child, she unwrapped each little parcel and stared with awe as she realized the immense cost involved. There were four nightgowns: two lovely short sleeved ones with matching robes covered with delicate pastel pink ribbon flowers and small flattering pin tucks with satin trim; two long sleeved gowns with ruffled hems, dainty embroidery and accordion pleating. As she admired them he said, “They all have been sewn with hidden slits in the bodices for . . . hmmm . . . Jonathan’s purposes, shall we say?”
“Oh, they are lovely, simply lovely.” She held one to her chest and he saw tears glistening in her eyes. “Why did you order these made?” she asked. There was a hitch in her voice; she was genuinely pleased at his thoughtfulness. It validated him in a way he’d never experienced before. She made him feel needed, just by the tender way she looked at him.
“Because I wanted you to have some night clothes of your own. Not Annaliese’s, and not from the lost closet either.”
“What will the housemaids say? They know I cannot afford the price of anything so fine.”
“They will say they look lovely on you, or how beautiful they are, or that you look like a dream walking. They will say that I am lost in you.” He took her hands in his. His voice was rough and gravely as he met her tear glistened eyes with his warm, roguish ones. “If you have learned nothing these past few weeks, you should have learned I don’t care what people say. I wanted you to have them. Now open the rest.”
“Oh yes, I heard about your Aunt Tilda,” she chided as she reached for another package.
He stared at her, trying to place what she was referring to, then he threw back his head and laughed at her all-knowing smile. “Apparently my little talk did little good as someone has already taken the time to pass that little rant on.”
“I was supposed to attend that meeting. Then I was instructed not to bother, and Mrs. Cockrell used the excuse that I was tending to Jonathan at the time. Later, one of the maids was sharing, making sure I knew the new house policies.”
“Mmmm,” he murmured, remembering the meeting and its purpose. He stroked along her arm, “You are both soft and wild. I love that. And I am so very lost in you. So . . . if I were you, I would stay away from the St. Regis table in the entryway. Now open your present.”
“A book of poems! Oh Thorne, thank you!” She turned to him and wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a quick squeeze.
He shook his head as she quickly let him go so she could sit back and thumb through the pages. He muttered, “I spend crowns on nightgowns, mere sixpence on a book, and which one yields me the better prize?”
She wrinkled her nose up at him.
“Mayhap the next one will earn me a kiss?”
She unwrapped a delicate heart-shaped box that proclaimed in lavish script that these were the finest chocolates from the finest London chocolatier. He was unprepared for her quick frown and look of utter disappointment.
“What’s this? I thought all women loved chocolate?”
“All women do.”
“Then I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“This is torture. Did you not know that I cannot have any?”
“Pray tell, why not?”
“It will disagree with the baby. He will get gas and possibly even a rash.” She handed him back the box, albeit rather reluctantly.
“Surely you can have one piece?”
“No milord, I cannot.”
“Oh, are we back to milord again? I suppose the kiss is out then?”
“The kiss was never in question. But I won’t offer it. You will have to take it.”
“I see that as no stumbling block whatsoever.”
He tossed the chocolates to an adjacent chair and using her elbows pulled her close. He bent to put his lips to hers.
At that exact moment Jonathan could be heard grunting and quite loudly filling his nappy.
Their eyes met, both lifted their brows at the sound and they laughed. Tears were brimming from both of their eyes before they were able to get up and attend to him.
As Catherine carried Jonathan to the dressing table and began stripping his soiled clothing, the earl began to gag. Holding his hand over his mouth and nose, he made his way back to his garderobe, slamming the connecting door and silently chastising his son for ruining his chances for a much sought-after kiss.
Chapter Twenty-three
A week later, several of the kitchen servants were seated around the ancient scarred table in the center of the baking area. Cora, Cook’s right hand and long time assistant, was dumping flour, sugar, salt and eggs into a large bowl.
She had started cooking for the earl’s grandfather when she was fourteen, and now she stood at the old scarred wooden table she had scrubbed clean for over thirty years. Staring across at the rows of pots and pans hung on wrought iron hooks on the opposite wall, Cora had to bite her tongue to keep from cursing. “It’s no’ enough her high and mighty is countin�
� the poor lass’s peas and measurin’ her slabs of bread, now she’s done sent to a doctor for a tonic. Now that Miss Catherine’s lost all her baby weight, her ladyship claims our Miss Catherine is too tiny, too frail to give the babe enough for his bones! Her ladyship sent back the broth I made Miss Catherine, said it smelled off. Well of course it smelled off, has no’ the old biddy seen fresh spinach? I tell you the earl had better send ‘er packin’ soon or our Miss Catherine is going to run off, I tell ya.”
“What’s this?” the earl asked as he strolled into the dimly lit room. Rarely did he come into the kitchens, but this evening Catherine had complained of a headache and he had come for one of Cora’s special potions of sage and feverwort. Cora was known throughout the village for her tisanes that dispelled the very worst megrims, so he hadn’t wanted to wait for someone to answer his summons; he wanted to get Catherine the help she needed as soon as possible.
“Oh, your lordship,” Cora jumped, along with two others. “Just me rantin’, take no nevermind.”
“No. If it concerns Catherine, I want to hear about it.”
“It’s just your mum, doing what she does.”
“Cora . . . tell me what she’s doing. I insist.”
Cora sat down and clasped her hands together on the table. “Well, you know I am not one to speak unkind of another, but . . .”
By the time Thorne left the kitchen, sage teacup in hand and a warm sachet of herbs wrapped in cheesecloth for a poultice, he was steaming more than the kettle he was carrying alongside the cup on a tray.
At the top of the stairs he turned and marched down the long hallway. He didn’t bother to knock. Catherine, Jonathan latched to her breast as she reclined on the bed, was sound asleep resting against a mound of pillows. On second glance he saw that Jonathan was also asleep. He put the tray on the night table as quietly as he could, then bent and pressed his finger against her upper swell to release the suction. He stared at the impossibly long nipple, dewy from his son’s mouth for several long moments, then forced himself to the task at hand and slid Jonathan off her chest by cupping the baby’s bottom and easing him off of her.
When he came back into the room after placing Jonathan in his bed, Catherine’s eyes were open. She had covered her breast. She had a rosy blush to her cheeks that was absolutely charming. She knew what he had seen when he had lifted Jonathan and taken him from her.
“Rough day I’m hearing,” he said as he sat on the bed beside her and handed her the teacup and saucer.
“Just a wee bit tiring is all.” She took a dainty sip. “Mmm, thank you for this. You are a godsend, this is wonderful.”
“I want to hear what my mother has been up to. And you might as well know, I’ve already heard it from others, so I want the truth.”
She rubbed her hand over her face. “I can’t seem to do anything right by your mother is all.”
“I heard it is much worse than that. Are Cora and all the others right? Is my mother upsetting you? Is that why you have a headache?”
“She is just trying to be helpful in her own way. And Jonathan, dear sweet Jonathan, is fighting her as well. He is starting to balk and fuss incessantly when she is in the room. I think he can tell from her tone that she is unhappy with me. It dawned on me today at lunch that Jonathan does not like her company when he feeds. So he simply doesn’t. She thinks it’s me, that now that I’ve recovered from childbirth, that I’m puny, without enough milk for him. I may have lost weight, but,” she hefted her full breasts, “these are always full for him.”
He gaped at her lewd display and had to bite his lip to keep his mouth from leaning in and taking a nipple through the thin covering of her new gown.
“And now, she is set on sending for a physician and scouring the borough for another wet nurse. I have to admit, it is upsetting, as Jonathan and I are doing so very well with this now.”
He patted her thigh. And instantly regretted it as he was rock hard within mere seconds. “Don’t you worry, I will take care of things in the morning. Jonathan’s feeding times will be sacrosanct. Only I will be allowed to attend you from now on. I can’t have her meddling ways upsetting either of you.”
Since their little talk, his mother, true to her word, did not spend any more time at the mews or wandering the estate. Instead, anticipating her departure after the holiday, she had elected to spend her afternoons with Jonathan, hence with Catherine . . . meddling.
He stood and bent to kiss her cheek. “You’ve become very special to the household in these last weeks. I have never before heard Cora curse my mother.” He tilted his head to the side as if considering, “What is it about you Catherine, that makes people so protective of you?”
“Oh, it’s not me. It’s Jonathan they’re all carin’ about. He is such a sweet baby.”
“I am pleased to say that your disposition is rubbing off on him. But I beseech you, in the future, come to me when someone or something is giving you headaches. Now finish your tea. Cora made it special for you.”
“Will you sit with me? I want to talk to you about books. Do you have any of your childhood books in your library, or in the old nursery upstairs?”
He brought forth the chair close to her bedside and sat. While doing so, he noted that his mother’s handkerchief, journal, nail file, and letters of correspondence were on the drop leaf table beside the chair. A grim frown pursed his lips. His mother was definitely going to be banished from this room. She could see her grandson in one of the parlors. For God’s sake, this was Catherine’s bedroom. She should be able to count on peace and quiet here if no place else. No wonder she was pale and hollow-eyed tonight. His mother was making her miserable . . . yet, she hadn’t complained, hadn’t raised the hue and cry. And she very well should have!
He forced himself to leave the anger aside for now and answer her question. “No, I don’t believe there are any children’s books in the library. There may be some in the old nursery though, or in the birthing room. I will have someone go through the boxes and see. Why do you want them? It is far too soon for Jonathan to be able to understand them.”
“I want to start reading some stories to him anyway. I think my voice is soothing to him and that he might like the cadence of the prose. It will be a good way for he and I to pass the time. And a sure way for us to ignore distractions,” she added with a tiny smile.
In that moment he began to truly fall in love with the diminutive woman sitting up in his wife’s old bed. She was comfortable with his presence beside her, even though she was in her nightclothes—modest though they were, now that she was buttoned back into them. She truly cared for his son, worried about his values and his quality of character, and put up with his tyrant of a mother to keep the peace in the household, despite the headaches it caused her. He focused on her lips, dewy and warm from the tea. He so wanted to kiss her.
“We will find them or I will send for new ones. I remember one book I particularly adored as a child. Something about a fox,”
“Oh, I know exactly the one you mean. It’s in Aesop’s Fables. The Fox and the Grapes.”
“Yes! Tell me, how is it you know this? Forgive my being blunt, but most women do not read, though I’ve known a few. Annaliese read sparingly, in fits and starts. I have never met one who reads as voraciously as you though.”
“My father was an anthropologist; my mother was his assistant. I was taught to read at a young age, and before I met Thomas, I fancied myself a librarian or a bookseller of sorts. It never came to pass as Thomas swept me off my feet, and took me out of the city.”
“You were young when you married.” It was an understatement, as she was still very young yet.
“Yes, I was anxious to leave my Aunt’s home.”
“Yes, I remember,” he coughed. “The one who wanted you on your knees all the time.”
“She really was overly religi
ous, so righteous about everything. I was impetuous and wanted to be free. I wanted to dance, to play whist until two in the morning, and have some sherry when it was offered. She would allow none of those things. So when I met Thomas, I was instantly smitten.”
“How was it that you met him?”
“I was at a church fair, helping to sell jam. He kept coming back to buy more, then he asked if I would dance with him that night at the church social. He was an officer for the navy, just getting ready to resign his commission so he could sail with a company ship owned by his commander’s brother. I had to sneak back to meet him.”
He studied the wistful look in her eyes. “Sounds like he was quite taken with you.”
“Yes, I think he was. He delayed his trip to Southport to be with me that night. Aunt Agnes was furious when she found us out. He came to the house with three soldiers, asked for my hand, and walked me away from the house while my Aunt cursed us. We were married the next afternoon, and two weeks later he shipped out. That was the last time I saw him. He was expected back in two months.
“Four months after he left, I heard the ship had faltered and that all hands were lost. A few days later, I learned I was with child. I knew my Aunt would not have me back, so I found work in a dress shop. When I was too big to be of much help and a clear embarrassment to the owner, I was let go. I tried to make my way south to where Thomas’s family hailed, but I couldn’t make it. My back pains were so severe I had to rent a house with my last coins. The neighbor called for Madeline and Marguerite when it was clear from my cries that I was in great agony, and the rest you already know.”
“You’re a brave woman, Catherine. I wish things had gone better for you.”
She smiled and his heart stuttered. “I am here now, with a wonderful job that I love, with an employer that is caring and attentive to my every need—albeit because it’s in the best interest of his son to do so,” she said with a wide grin.
He stood and smiled down at her. “You are a curiosity, Catherine. But I do not doubt that I would still care about you and concern myself for your welfare even if there was no baby here for you to attend to. I will leave you alone now, those blue smudges under your eyes tell me you have not been sleeping well.”
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