Seduced by the Dandy Lion

by Suzanne Quill

  Drew bent to help Andrea with her bonnet. Their daughter struggled with the tangled ribbons. “Well, there are quite a few others who you’ll meet sometime later.”

  “There’s more?” Marianne gasped as she tugged at the ribbons of her own chapeau.

  “Of course. There are the stable hands, miscellaneous maids, gardeners. You know, the usual people who tend to the needs of the inhabitants, house, and grounds. You’ll get to know all of them over time.”

  “Thank goodness I brought my own maid and Andrea’s nursemaid. It will be nice to see their familiar faces on a regular basis.”

  Drew chucked her under the chin. “It won’t be that difficult. You’ll see.”

  As Wellingford stood at the ready, Marianne stripped off her jacket, hat, and gloves and handed them over. After helping Andrea with her coat and relieving Drew of the child’s bonnet, she finally turned to survey the interior of the manor.

  “My goodness, Drew, this is huge.” Looking down the marble-floored hall, she could see doors open along each side and a large marble staircase off to their left. Pictures, chandeliers, rugs, and other accoutrements were appropriately located in the space. She turned to see Wellingford make a bow and leave with their recently divested outer clothing.

  “There is much to see.” Drew reached out for her hand, then his daughter’s. “But I think we should all take a rest for now. I can give you the grand tour later. Come with me.”

  She and Andrea followed him up the stairs toward their rooms.

  Outside the master bedchamber, Jane met them coming from the nursery. The nursemaid gave her usual efficient curtsy. "May I take Lady Andrea to the nursery? I would expect she’d be ready for a nap.”

  “Please do, Jane. We’ll come up for her in a bit.”

  “But, Mama.” Andrea turned to her pouting, her lower lip stuck out in hurt and defiance. “We haven’t seen kitties.” Andrea drew back as Jane reached for her hand.

  Marianne stooped low to be eyelevel with her daughter. “Don’t worry, my little miss, we shall see them later. Papa and I are tired and need to take a rest. And, we thought you might like to inspect your new rooms and make sure they are up to your high standards of approval. We will see Fluffy and the kittens later. I promise to discuss your having one with Papa. Go now with Jane so we can all have a rest. You were the only one who slept yesterday and today on the long ride from London.” She kissed her daughter on each cheek and stood.

  “Yes, Mama. But I won’t forget.” Andrea turned toward Jane.

  “I would think not.” Marianne smiled down at her, the pout now replaced by the seriousness of the child’s expectations.

  Jane took Andrea’s hand and led her toward the upper stairs as Andrea enthusiastically looked up at her. “Miss Jane, kittens are here, too. I’ll see them later. I want one. Mama and Papa think about.”

  “That’s wonderful, my sweet. I’m sure they’ll discuss it and let you know.” The nanny looked back over her shoulder and smiled, then trundled the child up the stairs.

  Marianne turned to Drew. “I doubt we’ll be able to deny her. She so loves her kitten at home. Would it be a problem in such a large house?”

  Drew reached around her to open the door. “I’m sure there’s a way. She’d probably not let this cat out of her sight, either, so I doubt it would get lost despite the size of the manor. For now, here’s your room so you can get some rest before dinner as well.”

  Chapter 19

  Marianne entered the dining room only to find it empty of all except Wellingford.

  “Good evening, my lady,” he intoned with a brief bow. “His lordship is in the breakfast room. He felt a more casual dinner would befit the occasion since there are only the two of you. Would you follow me, please?”

  Returning to the hall, Marianne followed the butler as he led her past a music room on the left outfitted with a pianoforte and harp, a library, also on the left, that looked as if it held the whole of the world’s published works, fiction and non-fiction, and then into the breakfast room on the right.

  Yet another room in glorious décor, it still boasted the classic lines from the late King George’s Regency period. The soft pea-green walls made the room comfortable and inviting. Her husband sat at the table, formally but intimately set for two, in the center of the room. He had changed his attire seemingly to match the décor as he wore that deep shade of green that so flattered his hair color and coordinated well with the room.

  He rose to meet her and brought her fingertips to his lips. “Marianne, you look delightful. I see a little rest and a change of scenery has brought the peaches back into your cheeks. Come, sit.” Releasing her hand, he pulled out her chair so she could settle then he returned to his own side of the table. “I checked in on our little Andrea and found Jane had fed her and tucked her in for the night. Evidently the journey exhausted her more than we expected. So, I thought we’d dine in here where we could chat about our plans without shouting along the length of the formal dining table.”

  Marianne shifted slightly as Wellingford placed the linen napkin in her lap. “This is lovely, Drew. It gives me a chance to see another room in this incredible house. I cannot believe the size of it and how many people it must take to maintain.”

  Drew leaned back as a bowl of steaming soup was placed before him. “I’ve always thought of it as a monstrosity. Once Mother passed on, we did little entertaining. It’s much too large for two people who rarely speak to each other.” Tasting the soup, he nodded at Wellingford who then served Marianne. “My father left me to the nanny and governess most of the time. Once I was old enough, Father shipped me off to Eton and seemingly forgot me while he went through the family funds chasing after one shady thimblerig after another.”

  Marianne scooped up a spoonful of soup, then gently blew on it. “It must have been difficult for you.” She sipped cautiously at the steaming broth, a concoction containing spring vegetables amidst the flavor of chicken. Finding it delicious and just the right temperature, she continued to eat.

  “It’s no wonder I became such a fop in my younger years.” He, too, sipped soup, then continued with explanations. “With no guidance from my surviving parent, I clung to whatever guidance I could find with no way to judge its value.”

  Finished with her soup, Marianne quietly set her spoon aside. Wellingford gone now, a footman quickly removed the dish and replaced it with another. “Now that you’ve returned safe and sound, what do you think the impact of your travels has had on your life?”

  Drew looked up from cutting his roasted sirloin. “I’ve had plenty of time to think about that while away but only a little since I’ve returned. Obviously, I’ve turned the family fortunes around. Too bad my father did not live to see it. Though, I think he would have expected me to hand it all over to him so he could plow through that as well.”

  “I rarely saw him over the years before his passing.” Marianne hesitated, her fork in midair. “We did not frequent the same social circles and I made it clear that I would not relinquish any of my dowry funds no matter what he did. He was not respectful in any of his dealings with me.” She took the bite, then chewed thoughtfully before adding, “It surprised me that he took no interest in Andrea, though. One would think a man would want to get to know his only grandchild regardless of its sex. I sent him an announcement about her birth and invitations to events we held but I never received any response.”

  “I would have been surprised if you had.” Drew sipped some wine and nodded to the footman to replenish his glass. “His focused had narrowed to the money he could obtain. I think the disappointment in their marriage was the main cause of my mother’s death at such a young age. She did not even make it to one score ten.”

  A thoughtful silence fell over the table as they continued the meal.

  Eventually, Drew broke from his rever
ie. “Enough of such depressing thoughts. Let’s discuss our plans for visiting the crofters. In the morning, I’ll check with the ostler to see what horses we have for riding. I’ll also have him make sure there is a sidesaddle in good repair.”

  “Drew, you need to know—” Marianne blotted her napkin to her lips.

  “We can chart out which farms we want to go to and make a list of the questions we shall ask them.”

  “Drew, I can’t—” Marianne interrupted again.

  “Once we see what’s going on, we can meet with our bailiff—”

  “Drew, please listen to me.”

  Realizing his wife sought his attention, he laid down his fork and knife. “What is it, Marianne? What’s the matter?”

  Looking down at her plate, she composed herself before quietly saying, “I can’t ride, my lord.”

  “What? You can’t ride? You can’t ride what?”

  “A horse, Drew. I’ve never learned to ride a horse. I’ve only ridden in carriages. My parents didn’t ride and didn’t see the need for me to learn. I can’t ride and even if I wanted to, I don’t have the proper attire.”

  Drew sat back in his chair as he folded his napkin beside his plate. “How could you not know how to ride, Marianne?”

  “My father’s a merchant and deemed it unnecessary. There were no riding parties which I would need to attend. No hunts. None of the things my area of Society would organize which would require a lady to ride. We had enough horses for our carriage but none more than that. No one in the family, not even my brother until of late, ever rode a horse. I’m not sure my father ever learned, either.”

  Drew nonchalantly replaced his napkin in his lap. “Tell me, Marianne, are you afraid of horses?”

  “Not that I know of. I’ve never been so close to them to find out. I’ve never been scared by one. Never fallen off one. Never been nipped by one. So, I guess I have no reason to be afraid.” She took a sip of her wine. “I might be intimidated. They’re so much larger than I am. But I imagine once one learns the basics of dealing with them, there should be no challenge.”

  Drew nodded. “Well then, first we’ll need to get you some proper clothes.” He shook the bell next to his plate. Wellingford appeared instantaneously. “Wellingford, I want you to send for the village seamstress immediately. Have her here first thing in the morning with current fashion books appropriate for ladies’ riding attire. Tell her she should bring sample fabrics that would be flattering to someone of her ladyship’s size and coloring. I’m sure you can describe that sufficiently. Thank you.”

  “Yes, my lord.” The butler turned to go.

  “Wellingford, one more thing. Ask her to also bring appropriate patterns and fabrics for a little girl.” As the butler nodded in acknowledgement and left the room, Drew turned back to Marianne. “We might as well get Andrea attired as well. I’ll look into getting her another small pony since we left hers in London. I’m sure she will love that.”

  “Drew, she’s so young. Are you expecting her to ride over the countryside without assistance? This isn’t our garden at the town house. Do you think she will be safe?”

  “Of course she will. I’ll be with her every step of the way. I’m not about to toss her on a horse and let her fend for herself. I’ll hold on to her as I did in town until she builds enough strength and confidence. Even then, she’ll only be riding here around the manor.”

  Wellingford entered once again, this time with the dessert course, and placed a bowl of berries covered in clotted crème before each of them.

  “Let’s enjoy dessert and then retire to discuss our quest.” Drew brought a spoon filled with fruit and crème to his mouth.

  Chapter 20

  Drew sat at his large desk pondering the ledgers that his wife had meticulously kept for these last years and which they had carried with them to the Park. Her financial capabilities and common sense still astounded him, not to mention her ability to quickly grasp the nuances of most if not every situation.

  She was so much more than the image he had cherished on the miniature he had carried all those years at sea. Her face, and the feeling of recognition all those years ago, had been the beacon that had finally drawn him back home. It had kindled the light of love and hope in his heart where there had been none for so many years. His mother had died when he was very young and since then, he’d seemed to find no comfortable way to fit in with the society in which he was born to be a part.

  Adrift at sea, literally, he prayed that this woman, whom his father had commanded him to marry for his father’s greed, might be the one person who would allow him to find a safe anchorage at last.

  A brisk knock on the door broke his reverie. “Come.”

  Wellingford entered and made a respectful bow. “My lord, the seamstress from the village has arrived. What are your wishes?”

  “Bring her here, Wellingford. When I am finished with her, you can escort her up to my wife’s rooms.”

  “As you wish.”

  Moments later a woman of middle years entered carrying a satchel that looked to weigh as much as she did. Of medium height but nearly as thin as a London lamp post, she was tidily dressed in a neat muslin day gown. Her hair, black shot through with strands of dark iron grey and pulled back in a severe bun at her nape, had strands seemingly struggling to get loose. She made a wobbly curtsy, evidently not practiced in that art. “Your lordship. I’ve come to be what service I can.”

  Drew rose from his chair and came around his desk. “Thank you. Your name?”

  “I’m Mary Brown, my lord, but everybody here ’round just calls me Mrs. Pins.”

  Drew couldn’t keep the corners of his mouth from kicking up. “Mrs. Pins it is then. I’ve brought you out to the manor for my wife and daughter. They each need a riding habit. Lady Reignsfield will be riding sidesaddle. My daughter will be learning to ride on a pony so I expect we’ll start her out astride. Can you show me some of the patterns and fabrics you’ve brought?”

  “Yes, my lord.” Mrs. Pins proceeded to pull out and explain numerous patterns for both his wife and daughter.

  Knowing them both better than the seamstress would, Drew selected three patterns for each of them. “Now, madam, could you show me some fabric swatches?”

  “I have them right here, your lordship.” Mrs. Pins displayed a plethora of hand-sized fabric swatches. As she did so, she elucidated on the colors, fibers, weaves, and use preferences for each.

  She quite impressed Drew with her knowledge despite being someone not well-traveled. She seemed to fully understand her resources and how to use them. “Mrs. Pins, please try to lead my wife toward one of these four fabrics and coordinate them with accessories. For our daughter, Andrea, see if we can guide her to choose from these swatches here.” He pointed to a navy-blue velvet, a hunter-green serge, a rich burgundy velvet, and a chestnut-brown twill for his wife and to a medium-blue serge and a deep-rose pink velvet for his daughter. “Based on their coloring, I think these will be the most flattering. Let me know what you think if they should select other options. Wellingford, you can take Mrs. Pins upstairs now.”

  The butler, who had been standing near the door seemingly at the ready, gave a brief bow. “Yes, my lord.” He helped the seamstress gather her paraphernalia and move out of the room.

  ~ ~ ~

  Two hours later, his wife flitted through the same doorway, her face flushed, her mouth lifted in a warm smile, her hands expressing her thoughts as she spoke.

  “Drew, Mrs. Pins is a darling. I cannot see how a woman with two dozen pins between her teeth can talk so much. She told me all about the local gentry and the little school they have for the children. She’s truly a font of local knowledge.”

  Drew gave up on the ledgers once more and met her halfway across the room. Looking down into her amused pale blue eyes, h
e gently grasped her hands in his and took each one to his lips for a kiss.

  Marianne’s face flushed a deeper pink as her chattering stopped.

  A hush fell between them, and Drew watched closely as his wife seemed to be deciding what to do.

  The hell with that! he thought. Releasing her hands, he watched her eyes grow wide as he took her into his arms and placed his lips firmly against hers.

  For a moment, her arms flailed but Drew held her firmly. At last her eyelids fluttered closed, her hands landed on his shoulders, slid up around his neck.

  She relaxed against him, melted her body to his, a small sigh escaping as she drew him closer.

  He tantalized her lips with his tongue, then entered the warm wetness of her mouth when she opened to him.

  He could feel his own heat rising, his need pressing. She responded, pulled closer, held tighter. Her breathing escalated along with his. He slid a hand up her side around to her breast, clasped his fingers to massage and fondle, was rewarded by further gasps.

  Encouraged further by her reaction, he started shifting her skirts up. The silks seemed to go on forever. Finally, his hand smoothed across the warm skin of her thigh, over the round firmness of her. He heard himself groan as he slid fingers between the cleft of her bottom cheeks and found the hot moistness there.

  “Marianne . . .” he rasped in a voice even he didn’t recognize.

  “Yes . . .” she answered breathlessly.

  A knock came on the library door. “Your lordship, the wagon is ready at your convenience,” Wellingford announced through the mahogany.

  Drew sighed, loosened his grasp, felt the skin-warmed silks of her petticoats and skirts slink through his hands back to the floor. Opening his eyes, his gaze fell to her face, to see her struggle to come back to the present, her face soft and flushed, her eyes filled with heat and wonder. It took a moment for her to focus on him. It took another for her to pull back, regain her own balance.