by Sarita Leone
“Then I suggest you put your best foot forward.” Oliver grinned as he lunged and struck his opponent on the shoulder. All in fun, a test shot, warming up exercise to start the competition. He stood down, waiting for Will to take his position and raise his foil. “Because I have the distinct advantage of having slept soundly, with no drain on my energy level. You, of course, cannot say quite the same, can you?”
“Hmmph!” Will struck, a solid movement which would draw blood had he not held back on his force. “It is obvious you do not know much about marital relations. If you did, you would realize that there are times a man is energized by his wife’s ministrations. Unfortunately for you, this is one of those times.” Two hours later, Will and Oliver made their way into the front sitting room. They were not so grimy that they would attract undue attention, although Will did have a small rip in the shoulder of his white shirt.
Lady Gregory looked up from her book when they entered. She was alone, which surprised her son. He expected all the women to be gathered, doing whatever women did on a beautiful afternoon.
“Mother.” He crossed the room, bent down, and placed a kiss on her soft cheek. As always, she smelled of talc and rosewater. “I hope I am not intruding.”
She waved him toward the seat nearest hers. Will left quietly, most likely going in search of Vivian. At the very least, to change his shirt.
Crossing one leg over another, he sat back. Despite the exercise he’d just given it, his left ankle was none the worse for the wear. It was mending, and he was grateful to heal so quickly. Infirmity robbed a man of precious time, forced one to sit rather than run, and he hated that idea.
He took a moment to assess his mother’s mood. She appeared serene, but that was no guarantee she was of that mind. One could never tell the disposition of a woman upon casual observation. They were, in his opinion, too complex for most men to decipher.
She was alone. That meant one of two things: Either she wanted solitude or had been left behind. He could not tell which might be a better situation.
“You could never intrude, Oliver. I am glad to see you for I am, I admit, bored with my own company.”
He looked around. The sitting room had not changed in decades. Chintz fabric. Cozy reading alcoves. Two fireplaces, one in a far corner to chase away winter drafts and the main hearth, where even now a small pile of oak logs burned.
“Where is everyone? It is almost unsettling to have it be so quiet in here.”
“Yes, I agree. I am somewhat out of sorts over being the only one with nothing better to do than sit here with my nose in Miss Austen’s book.”
He glanced at the well-read volume. It had passed through every woman’s hand at some point. Most, more than once.
“It is a good book, at least.” He had not read it, but he’d heard it had some value.
“Oh, yes. It is entertaining. It will never become a classic, mind you. Too many silly turns of phrase and undue distresses, but it does pass the time.”
Oliver hoped to find Bridget but could not simply turn and leave without chatting. When she offered him some tea, he shook his head.
“No, thank you. I fear I have much to do before dinnertime. But where is everyone? Father?”
“He is with Hugh, showing off his stables.”
Hugh Upton, a lesser earl who was very fond of horses, frequently spent time talking horseflesh with anyone who would listen. He and the duke had been friends since they were children.
“And the women? So many women, yet the place is empty…it does not make sense.”
He placed a hand on his brow and pantomimed searching for the missing beneath the table beside him. When he came up empty, he shrugged. And, his mother laughed, the way he hoped she might.
“It does seem strange, doesn’t it? Well, Vivian, Lucie, and Miranda are in Town. Lucie declared she needed a change of scenery and wouldn’t allow refusal from the others. She is, I believe, pining for her husband.”
As he suspected.
“Nick is not here much.”
She shook her head. The carefully pinned up curls never moved, prodigiously secured by the lady’s maid who had done the same to those locks for nearly as long as he was alive.
“No, he isn’t. And that has your sister—and me, if I am to be blunt—less than pleased with the situation. Goodness, they are still newly married. He should pay more attention to his wife and less to his holdings.”
It was bold, but he asked. “Are you certain he is attending to business and not a private matter?”
Lady Gregory was not stupid. She understood and shook her head almost before the words passed his lips.
“No, it is nothing untoward. Nick is far too upstanding to sink that low. No, I am certain he is just accustomed to being unattached and doing as he pleases. He has not yet realized that he needs to spend more time with her. Especially if…” She shrugged. Her figure, so delicate and elegantly clothed, belied the attitude that was more wistful than lady of the manor-ish.
“If what, Mother? They are happy, aren’t they?”
“I have no doubt that when they are together, they are quite happy. It’s just that your father and I would like grandbabies. And that requires both parties spend at least some time in the same location.”
“Yes, I do see what you mean.” He did not wish to interfere…but perhaps a friendly, brother-to-brother talk? Time to change the subject, he thought. No telling where this might lead. “You’ve accounted for everyone except Amy. Did she go to Town as well?”
A soft sigh, and a tiny head shake. Sadness and worry infused his mother’s voice. “No, I am afraid she did not feel up to going.”
He glanced at the window where Amy had unceremoniously leaned out yesterday. “Has the doctor been summoned?”
“More than once, but she refuses to see him. I have tried to reason with her, as have Lucie and Vivian, but she is adamant. Not even Miranda can influence her.” A short pause, then she added, “I am concerned, Oliver. The Spencers trust us to treat their daughters as our own, and we always have. If our Lucie were this ill, I would not give her leave to refuse Doctor Fairweather. But…”
She clasped her hands in her lap, looking the picture of parental dejection.
Another talk to have, he thought as he reached out and patted his mother’s hand. And soon.
Chapter 6
Lady Drabble’s hair salon was by far the most prestigious in all of London. The eccentric woman was whispered to be a favorite of the Queen herself. Known for elaborate details, such as ostrich feathers, animal headdresses and cascades of jeweled curls, she was very difficult to see and refused more business than she accepted. She was smart enough, however, to never refuse Lady Lucie Grayson, the handsome Duke of Waterford’s wife.
Lucie had sent her Abigail early to secure the time with the hairdresser. As she expected, she had not been turned away. And, she made it clear that, as was her custom, her female companions would require attention.
Lucie looked at herself in the wide glass window just beyond Lady Drabble’s. It was just a surreptitious glance, because she knew all too well that there was no such thing as privacy, especially when out and about. The street had eyes, from the street sweeper who admired three elegantly-turned-out women to the maids scurrying past, errand lists clutched in work-worn hands. Everyone saw everything—and one must be conscious of being observed at every turn.
Still, she peeked. And liked what she saw.
If she were ever going to keep her husband at home, she must be as comely as possible. A new hair style would surprise Nick. Hopefully, it would entice him to stay in her bed and admire the artful locks long past the point he typically excused himself to begin his day.
He came home tonight. She had plans for them…
“You do look lovely, Lucie.” Miranda touched her arm, the rustle of blue silk a soft sound as her gloves swept over Lucie’s pelisse. “Nick will be enchanted when he sees those curls. Lady Drabble outdid herself today.”
&
nbsp; Vivian smiled from one to the other. She had asked for a more sedate hairstyle, claiming a married woman in her state neither needed nor wanted elaborately teased locks. The simple upsweep suited her delicate features. And the tiny violets tucked above her ear accented the violet eyes that were simply unforgettable.
“Thank you both. I am…well, I am hopeful that Nick will think me as lovely as you do.”
Vivian raised an eyebrow. They were cousins, albeit removed cousins, so she had a familial link that excused an overstepped boundary.
“Are you and Nick having difficulties? I know it is a private matter, but after all we are relations, and I am a married woman, as well. Do you need advice? Not that I am so long married to have learned much of anything overly useful,” she said with a little laugh.
She looked from friend to cousin. They were as sisters and could be trusted. It had been eating her from the inside out, this disagreeable business. Perhaps sharing the problem would give her an altogether new perspective.
They walked abreast, a slow stroll along the wide sidewalk. The park beckoned, so they turned onto the path and meandered through the greenery. Splendid to see the forest in the center of the city. And children playing by the pond brought all three to attention. They stopped, watching as a child dressed in full spring regalia, including high-top, side-button shoes, attempted to chase a ball across the grass. He had trouble moving, the shoes looking too tight and stiff to allow his small ankles to bend naturally.
“That is the thing,” Lucie said quietly. She nodded to the child, who had just thrown his body atop the ball. Giggling, he tried to stand with it in his arms but toppled over onto his head. He laughed, tossing the ball high in the air. “Nick and I have been…well, we are hoping for…”
“You want a baby,” Miranda said. Always straight to the point, never inclined to stay quiet—unless Oliver was within earshot. Then, she was very often unfortunately tongue-tied. It came from having a crush on him since they were children. Some things a woman outgrew; others did not pass into history as swiftly. Oliver had made it very clear he had no romantic inclination toward Miranda but that did not keep the woman’s heart from working harder when the object of its affection was anywhere nearby.
Lucie smiled. She looked from Miranda to Vivian, then back to the little boy. His nanny had rescued him, putting him on his feet, and handing the ball into his outstretched arms. He toddled across the grass with it clutched to his chest. It was evident that it would not be long before the ball got away from him once again.
“Yes. We both want a child. Actually, we want more than one. But…”
“No success yet.” Miranda stated the obvious.
“None,” Lucie admitted. She sighed, hugging her arms around her midsection. “I keep thinking that if I can manage to keep him home longer, we shall have a chance. It is not easy when the husband is busy looking after other matters.”
“Give it time,” Vivian advised. “Relax. Enjoy your husband. It will happen in its own good time.” She patted her stomach. She hadn’t yet begun to bloom, which was good. When she did, she would not be as comfortable bouncing to the city in a carriage or being seen about Town. The confinement would begin soon, but for now her figure did not give her secret away.
“I need to keep that husband home long enough to…well, you know.”
Miranda colored ever-so slightly. Then, she sighed. “I cannot wait until I have such problems. Imagine, a beautiful home. A handsome husband—and a duke, no less. And evenings spent in front of a roaring fire, rolling about on a fur rug in each other’s arms.”
Vivian and Lucie exchanged startled glances.
Lucie poked her dear friend in the shoulder. “Goodness, whatever have you been reading? A fine imagination you have, you goose.” She leaned closer to Vivian and gave the other a poke with her elbow. “She does not yet realize that the floor is drafty, no rug is thick enough to keep an unforgiving floor from being hard, and it is not at all romantic when your husband burns his bottom on a flying ember, does she?”
Chapter 7
“I am glad you agreed to have dinner in private, in our rooms.”
Lucie gazed at Nick across the remnants of the roast beef, mashed parsnips and boiled carrot dinner they had just finished. He chewed the last of his meat, wiped his mouth and sighed.
“Why, I don’t believe there is anywhere else I would rather be, my dear. In private, in our own wing of this manse, all alone to amuse ourselves as we see fit…”
There was, as was always the case, much more food served than they could possibly eat but that’s what the silver domes left by the staff were for. She covered the dishes, dropped her napkin onto her plate, and turned her attention on her husband. Tomorrow morning, the maids would clear the mess away. They had been instructed not to disturb the duke and duchess tonight, and for very good reason.
Lucie planned a seduction like no other. Nick might be tired from his long travels, but she intended to make him forget the journey and concentrate on his arrival. In their bed. And if they were fortunate, they might precipitate an arrival of their own…say, in nine months’ time.
She pushed her chair back and waved him down when he would have stood. “I am fine, stay seated. I like the way you think, my love.” The distance from her end of their small dining table to his was not long. She stopped behind his chair, put her arms around his shoulders, and lay her head against the mop of black curls she loved so much. “I don’t want to seem forward, but I do have some things in mind that I think you may find very amusing.”
She had been a virgin on their wedding night. Her experience with men was non-existent. Nick had taught her the fine points of lovemaking, and he’d taught her well enough that she loved being intimate with the man. When their bodies joined, it was as if the whole world faded into obscurity. Nothing else mattered but the joy she found cradled in his arms.
He turned to face her, somewhat startled by her declaration. He was also, she hoped, stimulated by the subject matter.
Outside the closed doors to their suite, or beyond the walls of the Grayson estate, such words would never pass her lips. But she was a modern woman who knew what she wanted, and it fell to her to make her dreams come true. It was all fine and well for her mother’s generation to sit idly by while men dictated the events in their lives for them. She did not want that for herself, so she took the lead now. Emboldened by two glasses of wine with her roast beef, she wiggled her eyebrows and puckered her lips.
His grin made her heart lurch. “Oh, is that so?”
Trying hard to make the sound seem more catlike than human, she purred, “Mmm hmm.”
“Well, perhaps we should move this party to the bedroom. Unless you want to begin here, amidst the leftover carrots?”
He stood, pulled her into his arms and held her close. Pressing his hips suggestively against her sheer, body-hugging dinner gown, he let it be known that her forward talk had stirred him. Greatly.
It was good that she’d dressed simply. No fussy layers, just a wisp of a slip and camisole to remove. Not even more substantial undergarments, in the hope the scintillating idea of next to nothing beneath her clothes would make her irresistible.
Now, with Nick’s arousal pressing hard against her hip, she smiled up at him.
Her dashing husband dropped his lips to hers, pulling her into a kiss that began tenderly but quickly turned passionate. His tongue slid into her open mouth as a rumble tore through him. She felt his desire, not only in the state of his pants but by the way his mouth ravished hers.
Lucie nipped his lower lip. Then, she ran her tongue over the spot. Pulling away, she looked up. His eyes gleamed.
“You are quite the wanton woman,” he teased as he dropped his gaze to the slope of her breasts. The cut of her gown was so low the edge skimmed her nipples. It was not something to be worn where others might observe the indiscretion; she’d had the item made for her husband’s eyes only.
Nick cupped one breast, running a la
zy finger across its peak. It responded to his touch, pebbling beneath his skin. When he pushed her neckline aside, exposing her, she did not object.
“You are enticing, my angel. Utterly captivating. I have known that from the first instant we met. I love you, more than I can say.”
He dropped a kiss on her neck, just below her earlobe. Then, he trailed a line straight down her skin, ending at the nipple he rubbed in his fingertips. When he caught her breast between his lips and ran his tongue across the hardened spot, she gasped. Heat pooled low in her body, bringing moisture to the apex of her thighs. It might not be respectable, but by God she enjoyed every moment of the attention.
A moan tore from her throat. Lucie swallowed, thankful he held her upright. Her knees wobbled, desire turning her flesh to putty.
“Nick…oh, Nick…”
Her fingers twined in his curls as he caressed her breast. She kissed his temple, sighing against his skin.
“Nick?”
“Hmm?”
“I…oh, I…”
He brought his gaze up to meet hers. There was no shyness between them. They had agreed never to have secrets, so she did not hesitate now.
“I want something. Desperately. Please…”
He turned serious. “Name it. Whatever your heart desires, my love, you shall have. If it is in my power to give, that is.”
“It is within your power…”
“What, then?”
She held his gaze for a long moment. His eyes were the darkest brown she’d ever seen, their depths seemingly endless. Not for the first time, she thought she could drown in his beautiful eyes.
“I want a baby…please, I want a baby.”
He nodded then reached down, lifted her into his arms, and strode across the room. At the doorway to their bed chamber, he paused.
“It is precisely what I want, as well. There is only one way I am aware of that will make our wish come true, my love. Only one way…”