Unleashed Desires 0f A Noble Lady (Steamy Historical Regency)

by Scarlett Osborne

  Donald, despite every good reason, was still sad to watch his friend’s ship disappear over the horizon. It happened faster than he expected, lost in thought as he was notorious for doing.

  As he turned to return to his North London manor, which was quite the ride from the docks, he tried to turn his thoughts to more pleasant ones. He had an enjoyable breakfast recounting past adventures with his two dearest friends. No need to let himself dwell on sadness when he began the day on such a happy note.

  He let his mind drift again to the warmth and light Emma had brought to the beginning of his day, like a second sunrise.

  Why am I so worried about my conversation with Emma?

  She was always so kind and gracious. His dear friend would surely not let him impose and he even doubted he could be an imposition to her.

  For a brief moment Donald thought of how nice it would be to spend time with Emma all by himself, but this led to muddled thoughts again. The light floral smell that she carried with her everywhere she went. The dark soft curls of her hair. Her cheeks always looked so soft and rosy, wouldn’t they be so nice to touch? Just once? What about her lips?

  He shook his head, thankful that he was alone in this moment. He had always had such a good time when it was the three of them.

  Why do I want her all to myself?

  There was nothing improper about simply enjoying the company of his friend. Perhaps having her attention might allow them the opportunity to discuss topics that Matthew’s bombastic personage usually didn’t allow. Emma was usually such a gentle young lady. That was one of Donald’s favorite things about her.

  Donald stopped outside the hand-hewn stone steps leading to his manor and shook his head again. The daydreaming had made him far too bold, especially when it came to a lady who was his friend.

  Always my friend and nothing more.

  Chapter 4

  The following week passed much too slowly for Donald as well as much too fast. It wasn’t because tackling the work that they used to both handle was more inherently strenuous. Truth be told, Donald handled most of the studious work. But every little task that required him to run out of the office and meet with one craftsman or another for a business meeting was taxing not only on his time but on his ability to focus as well. He would acclimate before Matthew’s return, he knew he would, but he didn’t have to like it.

  At the same time the first walk with Emma since Matthew’s departure drew nearer and nearer and he couldn’t shake the feeling of nervousness.

  Why do I feel nervous?

  His fretfulness had convinced him to even speak to his valet on the matter. Helt was a long serving member on the family staff and had come with Donald when he left his parent’s estate to make his way in the world. Donald placed more confidence and trust in his valet than he did most other people, short of Matthew and Emma, but he certainly couldn’t talk to either of them about the matter.

  “So you see, I am worried about making a good impression. But I don’t understand why. I have known Lady Emma all my life. I have already made any sort of impression that I could on her. Do you know what I must do to assuage this worry, Helt?” Donald sat behind his work desk, a half empty glass of wine in hand.

  Helt stood opposite his lord’s writing desk. He was a rather bunched up older man, his once strong muscles knotted in a way that gave him a bit of a stoop. His hair had grayed to a light pepper but had not thinned in the way that many had when they reached his age. Donald did have memories of the old man’s mustache being much more elegant at one time, but now it was more wild and bushy. His tenure of near fifty years had taken its toll on his body and though he was a valet, Donald always made sure he had extra dedicated servants to assist Helt with any tasks he thought needed doing.

  “I am unsure, My Lord, exactly how bold should I be when providing you this council?” Helt said in his fine weathered voice.

  “I am the one who came to you for advice, Helt. Whatever you feel needs to be said, then I implore you to say it. I would do anything at this point, after a week of unsteady nerves.” Donald placed his empty hand to his forehead and braced it to the chair in a gesture of defeat.

  “My Lord,” Helt began, his voice slow and tortuously halted, “I consider it unwise for me to speculate on the ways and wiles of you and yours, but I believe if you simply attend the meeting with Lady Emma, you will find that you have little to worry about.”

  “I must ask that you trust me in my wisdom.” Helt continued and Donald heard him cross the room and suddenly felt his wiry old hand rest on his shoulder. Donald let himself ease at the reassurance of his long-time guardian.

  “Thank you, Helt. I will take you on your word that I am overthinking things,” he said while still not looking up from his resting and relaxed position. He watched the wine swirl gently in the glass, trying to take his valet’s words to heart.

  * * *

  The park where the friends had taken their walks, a place called Fyre Glen was fairly quaint compared to some of the very lovely private places all over the lavish estates of London.

  Fyre Glen had been donated publicly when a particularly wide-spread estate had seen large portions of it sold off to make its governance more manageable. It wasn’t privately funded thus less went into its proper care than before, but this was part of its appeal to Emma. Since it had once belonged to a wealthy family it had all sorts of rare and colorful plants, but without gardeners they had grown wild and rampant.

  The fact that it was a less popular park combined with its untamed nature, made it a popular harbor for trysts and couples looking to escape prying eyes. This very reputation should have deterred Emma from having it become her park of choice, especially to spend her time with two close gentlemen friends, but she simply couldn’t keep herself away from it. It drew her.

  Of course, Emma never visited the park unescorted. Even if Donald and Matthew were her two closest friends, it would simply be far too improper. Which is, of course, why Henrietta came too, both of them accompanied like always with their lady’s maids.

  The ladies made their way along the winding paths of the park to the usual meeting place. Henrietta loved Fyre Glen as well, but less for the vegetation and more for the notorious opportunity to spot this Lord or that Lady. Gossip was her trade and Henrietta was good at it.

  On the other hand, Emma’s lady’s maid deeply disliked the park. In her late forties with tight ash-grey hair and an even tighter set mouth she saw the place as indecent. The only way Emma was able to placate her was to assure Josephine that the reason she was coming along was for the sake of decency.

  Emma felt that familiar mixture of excitement and sadness tighten in her gut when she spotted the lone Donald, in his best-pressed, vibrant-red walking attire, standing beneath a lone lamp pole. He was the only gentleman she knew who could pull off red so well, as it brought out the hidden cheerfulness in his cheeks and the color in his dark hair.

  “Lady Emma,” he said and started with a deep bow before turning to Henrietta. “And Lady Henrietta, as always a pleasurable addition.”

  “Lord Stapleton,” Emma spoke as she and Henrietta bowed together. Emma continued, “Which route shall we take today?”

  “Seeing as it is early spring, I was going to suggest we make our way through the west grove to hear the bird song and to check on how far along the tree flowers have come,” he began, then smiled slightly and slyly. “But I know your penchant for water flora and fauna and I have heard good things about the current state of the pond, so we might as well head that way,” he added as an afterthought, “before I think of one of the many reasons to avoid that section of Fyre Glen.”

  Emma fought the urge to clap her gloved hands in glee, instead she simply clasped them politely in front of her. “Oh yes! The pond. How did I not think of that myself? Let us make haste. If we are most fortunate we should be able to spot some newly hatched geese or swans.”

  “I was hoping she would forget, but I should have known you would
not allow her to miss such an opportunity, My Lord,” Henrietta spoke with a light tone to offset the possibly harsh words.

  During the early spring, right after the thaw, many of the park goers avoided the area around the pond, despite it easily being one of the most beautiful times of the year for that part of Fyre Glen. The melting snow and composition of the earth made the immediate area quite muddy and at times impassable for one hoping to preserve their finely tailored clothes.

  Emma would often insist that they walk in this area, despite the risk. Time and again they would often navigate the worst of the flooded footpaths with Matthew and Donald working together to help the ladies and their maids over.

  Although the conversation was light and pleasant it came to a halt when they saw the disastrous condition the pond’s footpaths were in. Emma was about to accept that they would have to turn back when they heard some light peeping coming from a distant bush.

  “Ducklings! Do you think?” she asked neither of them in particular. “Oh, I wish I could go and see them. Perhaps in a few weeks the ground will be firm enough for us to go and take a peek.”

  “I am afraid the ducklings will have grown by then,” Donald said thoughtfully. “I will be happy to assist you over the mud so that you may be able to get a look at them now.”

  Emma quickly looked over at Henrietta, who was trying to look as bored as she could before she spoke. “You can take her over there, but I think I’ll stay right here rather than risk it, thank you very much.”

  Donald hesitated for only a moment before proceeding with Emma through the lush, verdant grass. Their shoes sunk only slightly into the wet earth and were only passably sullied. Emma smiled lightly back at Josephine who grimaced as she tried to navigate the sodden grass.

  It didn’t occur to Emma that it would be necessary for Donald to get her over any of the puddles until they were right up on one. He wrapped his large hands around her slim coated waist and asked her if she was ready.

  She was taken aback by the effect his touch had on her and she could barely manage a breathy “Yes” before he picked her up and over the puddle with a surprising amount of ease. She felt so flustered when she was on the ground again, she had to force herself to walk faster, just so Donald wouldn’t be able to see the rose pink blush of her cheeks.

  I want him to touch me more.

  She barely thought to look back to see how Josephine would be able to cross. Josephine was heavier than Emma so she wasn’t sure what Donald do, but he lifted her with just as much ease over the large muddy puddle.

  This happened again two more times before they reached the shrubbery where the lively tiny peeps of the baby ducklings had come from. Each time she had considered protesting, as she suddenly felt warm and was slightly worried she might faint, but the opportunity to feel his strong arms lift her off the ground again was honestly too tempting to pass up.

  By the time they had reached the ducklings her heart was hammering in her throat and all she could do was stare at the darling little yellow ducklings. They sat on a swampy pad of grass created by their mother on the very edge of the pond. Suddenly, as she was trying to process what was in front of her, she stumbled backwards. Right into the same muscular arms that had lifted her before.

  His warmth was surprisingly comforting, considering all the hot blood that was rushing to her cheeks. His body was so strong, supporting her with ease. His smell, the lightest hint of leather, tickled her nose.

  “Are you all right, Emma? Has the heat gotten to you?” Donald asked, voice full of concern. Josephine had come over to stand close to them, out of concern for Emma. She was strict, but trusted Donald, as he had proven himself a gentleman time and time again.

  “M…must have been the sight of such cute little ducklings.” Emma stuttered and lied, unable to expose the poor innocent gentleman to the idea that his touch had flushed her so. As dangerously tempting as the idea was.

  “If you would forgive me, I think it will be best if we head back,” he said, and she couldn’t bring herself to protest.

  You idiot. You big buffoon. How could you be so oblivious to my plight?

  Emma was embarrassed almost to the point of anger that got more and more heated each time he would lift her over another puddle. Not all the heat was anger, though, as she felt a hot pit move slowly down her body. All that frustration, but not the heat, disappeared when she caught a glimpse of his face.

  He was worried, true, but he was also bright red with embarrassment. He didn’t even notice her looking at him, as he was rigidly looking forward and trying to only focus on where he was going.

  “The ducks made the lady weak, so I thought it be best to assist her and her lady’s maid back, Lady Henrietta,” he managed an explanation to Henrietta.

  “It was the ducks, I’m sure,” Henrietta said, while pointedly looking at her friend, who only just managed to hide her face in time from the still-oblivious Donald. “If the lady is struggling so, then perhaps it’s best we head back.”

  “Probably for the best to keep this a short visit then, yes.” Donald sounded disappointed. Emma nodded in agreement, still unable to speak. “Next week then?” he asked and she nodded again. “Lovely. My Ladies, I hope the following week’s affairs find you well and I look forward to when next we meet.”

  Emma could hear Donald’s heavy footsteps fade along the path and waited a second more to turn to look at Henrietta who seemed to be holding back a grin. Emma could not yet manage a retort and instead chose to flee down the path that lead them back to her home, followed by the still silently grinning Henrietta.

  Chapter 5

  Donald gave an exasperated sigh as he closed the leather ledger for the fourth time in several hours. He had been at ease and good humored since the first meeting at the park, and the several subsequent meetings that went just as well, but all of that had been tossed out when he noticed that profits had dropped. It had been a relatively slight drop, but still. Matthew had only been gone a short few weeks so far and he was already running into troubles.

  Am I so unfit to run a business by myself?

  Perhaps his perceived business sense wasn’t as keen as he first thought. How had he been so distracted to not catch this problem?

  Donald didn’t want to admit to himself about how thoughts of Emma had been plaguing his every free thought since their first trip to the park. He thought that the excitement would dissipate as he became more accustomed to the meetings again, but it had only grown each time he saw her. Each gentle sway of her body beneath her dress as she corrected herself on the path was far too intoxicating, constantly drawing his eye, and this was absolutely no way to think of his friend.

  He tried to clear his head and bring himself back to the matter at hand.

  “I don’t suppose you have any sort of inkling as to the cause of this financial...” Donald searched for the word, “debacle.” He gestured to the ledgers that covered his desk.

  “I do, M’Lord.” The younger man, perhaps a year younger than Donald, sat opposite him. He was Mr. Herbert Baldwin, the person in charge of The Atlantic Animal Fur Company’s day-to-day finances. He was a heavy-set man, a financial tradesman doing well for himself with the company. Donald noted that he often dressed in nice brown or beige clothes that reflected his personality well.

  Donald arched an eyebrow. This was an answer he didn’t expect. “You do?”

  “Yes, I do M’Lord,” he nodded astutely, his chubby face set firm in confidence of the statement.

  “How come you are waiting until now to say something? We have been sitting here for far too long if that is the case.” Donald felt slightly testy at his employee but he was far more curious at the man’s motivations.

  “I had more faith in M’Lord’s business sense than my own and I wanted to know if you would come to the same or an alternate conclusion,” Mr. Baldwin answered matter of factly.

  “I see,” Donald considered this for a moment. “In the future only wait half as long if you
have an insight to share.”

  “Duly noted, M’Lord,” Baldwin said with his usual flat tone.

  “The cause of our financial distress?” Donald restated.

  “Ah, yes.” Baldwin crossed around the desk to open the ledger so they could both read it, dragging his finger around the lines to point to several spots. “If you will notice, M’Lord, our finances changed but all of our major accounts are unaltered.”

  “Yes, I noticed that. That is why I am so vexed. I can’t assess how we are losing money.” Donald squeezed the bridge of his nose between his fingers, trying to help make sense of the numbers and relieve his growing headache.

  “It is relatively simple, which is part of the reason I wasn’t too quick to point it out.” Baldwin’s finger moved down to the bottom of the page where the smaller deals were deducted. “So simple it could also be easily missed, of course. See here, M’Lord, many of these small shops have canceled their shipments. Each one is a small drop in the bucket, but as they say in the numbers business, it adds up.”