Lady Bess

by Claudy Conn

  “Our mare is a maiden,” she said and felt the blush fill her cheeks in spite of the fact that she had put quite a bit of effort into sounding casual and sophisticated about it.

  “That shouldn’t be a problem. Bold Tim is quite the gentleman, skilled, experienced, and he will know just how to approach her, and unlike other stallions, he won’t hurt her when he is done,” he said on a low, seductive note.

  His tone, his Scottish burr, lush with something else, something she didn’t want to name, swept her into a dream. Dangerous, he was so dangerous to her well being. He talked about Bold Tim as though he were suggesting he was as gentle as his stallion. Was he talking about how he would handle her? And, yes, she wanted him to handle her.

  Oh, oh, but she was thinking like a tart—a tart! It was so much more than just being naughty and outrageous. It was delicious fun.

  “I am certain Bold Tim … with all his experience,” she said in a low voice, “will know just what to do.” Her eyes met his with a look intended to display that she knew just what they were talking about.

  She saw the surprise in his blues, and a gurgle of laughter escaped her. She had succeeded in oversetting him. He had not expected she would know how to respond to his outrageous dalliance. She smiled to herself—schoolgirl, indeed!

  She meant to have a little fun with him, for she could see he meant only to have a little harmless fun with her and then send her on her way. She wanted at that moment to show him that having a little fun could get him into a great deal of trouble.

  “Are ye, like I, certain his experience will be enough?” he murmured, obviously caught up in the moment. “We shall see … m’dear.”

  ~ Four ~

  LADY BESS LEANED against the railing of the paddock that housed the brood mares and watched them graze lazily in the warmth of the sun’s bright rays.

  She was daydreaming.

  It had been two days since she had seen the earl and had been engaged in a banter that had set her body on fire. For two days, he had occupied nearly every thought.

  She felt restless and dissatisfied with the things that she normally enjoyed doing. She had no appetite, no wish to ride, or walk, or go and meet her friends for tea.

  The sound of horse’s hooves clopping along and kicking stones brought her head around, and she saw Donna waving to her. She sighed and waited, for she didn’t really want company. Her interest was caught, however, as Donna was dressed in high fashion, though in an odd shade of purple that did not suit her coloring. She laughed and said, “My, look at you! Dressed to the nines!”

  “Yes, I am a diamond, am I not?” Donna laughed as she slid off her horse and took up the reins.

  “Indeed, you funny thing, Now tell me why?” Bess asked, intrigued.

  “Guess,” said her friend.

  “You are a tiresome ninny,” returned Bess on a laugh. “How should I do that when I haven’t the slightest notion what you have been up to?”

  “Go on, give it some thought,” Donna teased.

  “Odious girl, tell me,” demanded Bess with a wag of the finger.

  Donna laughed. “I have been to Searington Grange,” Donna said triumphantly.

  “Wretch! Never say so,” returned Bess, not knowing just how she felt about this. Here was Donna, who had warned her off the Earl of Dunkirk, telling her that she had been to Searington?

  “Not alone, silly thing. Robby took me along with him to see Dunkirk and get the tour of the place and a look at his horses. Besides his stallion, Bold Tim, he has quite a number of mares, all of them magnificent, though none like your father’s black.” Donna eyed her speculatively. “Dunkirk said something about expecting your father to visit him today as well.”

  “Oh,” said Bess, unable to hide her chagrin, for her father had not mentioned a thing, and she had even showed him an interest in Bold Tim. “I see,” she added in a small voice.

  Donna burst out laughing and touched her friend’s shoulders. “No, you don’t see. His lordship took our promise to return by late afternoon with you and your father for a long visit. I just wanted to stop by and tell you before I go home to pack.”

  “I don’t understand—with me and my father? Papa never said a word …” Bess said, puzzled.

  “Apparently your father wants to have a look at Dunkirk’s stud before he brings over his mare and made some tentative plans with him to stay on for a bit.”

  “Did the earl mention me, or was that some contrivance of yours?” Bess asked suspiciously.

  Donna shook her head. “I never brought you up. Why would I?” She snorted. “You know my opinion about your ridiculous infatuation with him, and besides …” She hesitated.

  “Besides?” Bess prompted.

  Donna pulled a face. “I had the awful opportunity to bump into Sally Sonhurst, who was there with him, and, Bess, it is just as I said. She means to have him, touches him every opportunity she gets, and he doesn’t seem to mind. You would do well to forget all about him.”

  “Who says I haven’t already done that?” Bess’s chin was up. She was getting a bit tired of her dearest friend forever dishing out advice just because she was married. After all, she was a year older than Donna.

  Donna pulled a face and sighed. “Sorry state of affairs, that. If he offers for the widow she will lead him an awful dance.”

  “Oh, why is that?” Bess asked, trying to appear unconcerned even though her heart was racing.

  “Because she doesn’t really love him. I saw that almost at once. She likes him well enough, and means to have him, but love?” Donna shook her head.

  “What of his feelings? Are they engaged? Does he love Sonhurst?” Bess had to concentrate not to hold her breath as she waited for Donna, who scrunched up her face and thought it over for a minute.

  “Well?” Bess demanded.

  “It is difficult to say, for he is very attentive and she is very attractive—in a raw sort of way—but is he in love? No, I don’t think so, but I don’t know him well enough, and she was much easier to read than he.” She shook her head. “I really didn’t like her, Bess. She is something of a rattle and never stops talking, especially about her connection to the Prince and his little clique.”

  “Oh, well, there is never saying what a man will like …” Bess offered, not meeting Donna’s hazel eyes.

  “Hmm, that is true, but in this case, there is something else about her. I can’t put my finger on it. Bess, they don’t suit. They just don’t, and although I don’t wish you to make a push for him for obvious reasons, I did find that I rather like him in spite of his rogue reputation.” She sighed. “It will be too bad if he makes an offer for the widow, and Robby says he thinks he might. Says that the earl isn’t interested in making a love match.”

  “Well, that is none of my business, is it?” Bess said, still pretending unconcern. “Now, do you wish me to accompany my father? Or are you warning me off?”

  Donna sighed. “Of course I want you with us.” She nudged Bess’s shoulder. “I need a buffer between me and the chattering widow.”

  Bess’s face fell. “Oh, no—will she still be there?”

  “I dash well hope not, but one never knows,” Donna said and grimaced.

  Bess laughed. “Well then, perhaps this will be interesting.”

  “The funny thing is the earl specifically requested your father to bring you. No doubt, doing the polite.”

  Bess’s spirits, which had risen a bit, suddenly were smashed down. “Oh, he is inviting me for politeness. I see.”

  “Why should that matter if you are not interested?” Donna asked suspiciously.

  “One never wants to be an ‘afterthought’ on an invitation list.” Bess shook her head. “Perhaps I shan’t join you, after all.”

  Donna grabbed her kid-gloved hands. “Oh, Bess, you must … I promised to bring you, and I need help, I told you, with the widow.”

  “Has she been staying at Searington alone with him?” Bess asked suddenly.

  “No,
with nearby friends, but she did visit him, quite unattended.” Donna eyed her meaningfully. “Not at all the thing.”

  “Right then. I am curious about two things—Bold Tim and this merry widow.” Bess smiled.

  Donna sighed. “He is very adept at flirting, your Dunkirk. I wish Robby would flirt with me.”

  “He is not my Dunkirk, and what the deuce does that mean, you wish Robby would flirt with you?”

  “Come on—I am starving. Take me in for breakfast before I go home to pack and never mind my silliness,” Donna answered.

  Bess fell in step beside her friend but wouldn’t let go. “Donna, why did you say that? Robby adores you.”

  “I suppose he does,” Donna replied.

  Bess eyed her but said, “After breakfast, let’s take the gig and drive over to the parish. I have some clothing I would like to donate for the fair the new minister is arranging.”

  “Oh, splendid,” Donna agreed immediately. “I had a look at the new minister when I was in town the other day—have you seen him?”

  “Mr. Wenhurst?” Bess answered absently, “Yes I have.”

  “He is quite beautiful, is he not?”

  Bess sighed. “He is rather good looking.” She turned wide-open eyes at her friend. “I have never heard you speak like that about any man but Robby!”

  “Yes, well, I am married, not blind,” Donna teased and then added. “We should have your cook fix us some tarts to take with us for him.”

  “Devil you say.” Bess laughed. “You are a strumpet. A married strumpet. I shall tell Robby!” she teased.

  Donna shrugged. “Please, please do. Perhaps he may be roused enough to pay me a little court … like he used to do.”

  “Brat,” Bess said, shaking her head, “you have already been courted, engaged, and wed. Do you think he must go on forever courting? He has settled into comfortable.”

  “I don’t want him comfortable. I mean, yes, comfortable is nice, but I want him to flirt with me, and I have tried to get him to do so—” She flung her hands in the air. “—but he goes on in his happy, merry way, so there you are, and, yes, I find the minister quite beautiful.”

  This worried Bess for a moment, and she said gently, “You know, some men, like your Robby, well, they are more apt to rave about hunting than romance. That is the way of it, but in his heart you are all he thinks of. You both enjoy the same things, so you know that about him.”

  “Yes, but I want him to pay me more court, flirt with me … talk about more than sport with me.”

  “Then show him what you need.”

  “I don’t wish to show him. He should know.”

  “What kind of an answer is that? How should he know if you don’t tell him?”

  “I have hinted enough,” said Donna impatiently.

  “Some men, sporting men, like Robby, need more than a hint. They need to be led by their ear,” Bess said on a laugh.

  “Well, I don’t like it. I am too young to be cast aside like an old boot!”

  “Donna!” Bess objected. “That isn’t the case at all.” However, she saw from the set of her friend’s mouth that ‘talk’ would not improve this situation. Perhaps Donna was right, and Robby needed to take notice of something more than horses, hunting, and sport. “And what would it hurt to flirt him up and show him how you feel and what you need?”

  Donna eyed her and sighed. “I suppose.”

  * * *

  Searington House was a modest estate that sat on eleven acres of groomed and richly designed parkland. It boasted a stable of twenty stalls, all polished oak and brass. Flanking and behind the immediate house grounds were another one hundred acres of woodlands and green open fields.

  A beautiful driveway, with old and regal oaks whose branches met and created a tunnel of green, led to the front courtyard. Exquisite horses in their various fenced paddocks grazed leisurely and presented a picture that was lovely and quite riveting.

  Late afternoon brought a graying sky, and the earl glanced up for a moment as he strolled with Lady Sonhurst’s kid-gloved fingers on his arm. She had remained for lunch, and it had been all he could do to keep her from leading him to his bedroom.

  He could have spent a pleasant hour with her there and still had enough time before Bess’s party arrived. Yet … he wasn’t moved to do so. Why didn’t matter, so he didn’t ask himself why at that moment.

  Finally, he took her outdoors and walked her towards his stables.

  She had questioned him about the estate’s history. He would have been happy enough to answer her questions about his heritage, if only she wouldn’t interrupt him every other sentence. “Aye then, m’mother’s family traces their roots here to the twelfth century and are of Saxon origin. It has been modernized and updated many times over the years, but here we are …”

  The stables appeared, and he was aware of a huge sense of relief. He had sent a servant to ready her horse a bit earlier, and he realized he was heartily pleased to be able to send her on her way.

  She should have left hours ago. She hadn’t been invited, and it was not his custom to welcome his mistresses when they had not been invited. That way led to complications.

  He wasn’t going to allow her to put him in a compromising position, either, so he had conducted her visit beneath the eyes of one servant or other, leaving the door open to whatever room they happened to be in.

  The fact that she had come to visit him alone was not a good thing for either of them at this stage of their relationship. Besides that, he had an odd compulsion to be rid of her before the viscount arrived with his daughter, Bess. Why that was he didn’t bother to explore. He only knew it was time for Sally to leave.

  A groom came out of the large, magnificently built stable and led her bay gelding towards them.

  The earl eyed her with an apologetic smile. “You know it does your reputation no good to be here, alone, with me.”

  “As though I give a rap for my reputation,” she answered with a slight curl of her lip. “Let them say what they want. I am a rich young widow and one of Prinny’s favorites. What can they do but gossip, and they would do that anyway.”

  He laughed and said on a low note, “Perhaps I care what they say.”

  “Do you? I don’t think so. I am not fooled, John. We should be upstairs, alone in your room, doing what we do so well together, but …” She shrugged. “You have a little horsey group of people coming soon, don’t you?” She eyed him. “You don’t want to be caught in a compromising position when they arrive, and so I am ushered off.”

  His voice was low, and his eyes narrowed. “Sally, you and I are all about having fun. When it ceases to be fun, well then, it ceases. I thought we understood that.”

  Her eyebrow went up. “Is that what you think? Ah, my sweet John, I mean to have more of you—much more.” Her laughter irritated his nerves as she easily hoisted herself into her saddle.

  “You shan’t see me for a few days,” she said while gazing at him sensually. “I am off with my friends. I can see you will be dull work when involved with all this nonsense about your Bold Tim.” She leaned to give him her hand. “Shall you miss me?”

  “Of course, m’beauty,” he answered, wondering why he kept up the pretense. He had wearied of Sally and her games quite some weeks ago.

  He watched her walk her horse down the driveway in thoughtful silence. She could be a problem. A determined woman was always a problem. Sally was not the sort to let go easily. However, he didna see that she had a choice.

  He turned to walk back to the house and had nearly reached the front courtyard when a sound at his back brought his head around.

  He was pleased to see them, but he wondered briefly if they had passed Sally in the drive. If so, had she said anything untoward?

  His second thought was a question—what would Lady Bess have thought of a woman riding away unattended from a bachelor’s residence? His third, also a question, was why did he care?

  Time to contemplate these questio
ns was not something he had as they trotted merrily up to him. He smiled, for he liked this lively crew and was well pleased that he had invited them to stay over. He noted all were on horseback, leaving their driver to bring along their luggage in the coach at their back. He smiled to himself as well as to them as they approached, for they were laughing and teasing one another, and it was certainly infectious.

  He heard Robby complain in between the good-natured raillery, “But, Donna, I am hungry. We already visited Bold Tim. Let the viscount and Bess go on with the earl, and let’s you and I enjoy high tea.”

  “Oh pooh, it will be dark by then, for ’tis nearly four. Don’t you want to stretch your legs and have a walk?”

  “No, my legs have been stretched enough riding over here,” Robby said emphatically.

  The earl laughed as he stepped forward and reassured Robby, “Tea will be served first before we go up to the stables, and I think Cook has made some of her famous little sandwiches for her buffet.”

  “Little sandwiches?” Robby returned, sounding horrified. “Little sandwiches! Not those tiny finger things—indeed, John, I need more than that.”

  Obviously displeased with her husband’s manners, Donna exclaimed, “Robby!”

  The earl chuckled and offered, “Doona worry, lad. I’m certain there is enough on the side table Cook has arranged to satisfy ye.”

  Bess laughed and agreed, “I’m starving too, Robby, so indeed, tea and a selection of food sounds wonderful.”

  “Don’t spoil him, Bess!” Donna said and laughed out loud to add, “Oh, Bess, look at his face!”

  “Do you hear these nonsensical children?” Bess’s father called out to Dunkirk.

  As it happened, the earl had found himself riveted by only one person in this group. She was breathtaking in every sense of the word. The vision of her smiling and at ease. The style of long black hair, loose and looking as though she had weaved tiny diamonds amongst the strands. Those speaking green eyes. All of her very nearly left him speechless. What the devil was wrong with him? She was too young, untried, and dangerous to a rogue such as himself. It would never do. Lady Sonhurst was what his sort needed in bed, not this young maid. Suddenly realizing he had been staring at Bess a trifle too long, the earl turned to the viscount and said on a smile, “Welcome, and I don’t blame them. In fact, I’m with Robby and the Lady Bess—hungry.”