She let her head fall to the side, resting her cheek against the pillow as she touched herself. She breathed slowly, gently, holding the image of him in her mind. Tenaciously she grasped on to the memory of how it had felt to be held against him. He was so strong, so capable, with that darkness to him that send a thrill down her spine any time she saw him.
She arched her back, a surge of pleasure rushing over her all at once. It was all she could do to keep herself from crying out as her orgasm crashed through her. She gasped, then pressed her lips together as the wave crested and then subsided into a gentler shattered feeling.
She went limp, collapsing into the softness of her bed. She felt both satisfied, but yet also more frustrated than she had been to begin with. She tossed and turned in her bed for a long while before finally drifting off into a fitful sleep.
Chapter 21
As Jeffrey rode back to his townhouse, a profound sadness fell over him. His shoulders drooped and his muscles ached. He felt exhausted, as if kissing Barbara had sucked all the life out of him. He worried for a moment if perhaps the illness he’d fallen with at sea was making a reappearance. He was vaguely nauseated, and to combat that he stared out the window of the carriage, fixing his eyes on the horizon.
It would be easier to be angry at her. The impertinent minx, callously deciding to test out her wiles on a harmless man such as himself. For that had to be her perception of him. He was too damaged to take it seriously.
Her kiss had not been harmless though. He had been winded by it, wounded, brought to his knees in spirit if not in physical reality. How could such a petite lady have so much power over him. It was unthinkable.
All he wanted to do was go into his room and collapse into his bed, but when his carriage pulled up to the townhouse he was curious to find another carriage waiting outside.
“Who might this be?” he muttered to himself as he jumped down. It wasn’t his mother, at least.
And thank God for that.
She was the last person he wanted to face so soon after the bewildering exchange with Barbara in the drawing room.
Once inside, his butler, Alfred, raised his eyebrows at Jeffrey. Jeffrey, familiar with the man’s mannerisms, understood.
“Yes, I see that there is someone here. Who is it?”
“A gentleman by the name of Gibson, I take it, Sir. He waits for you in the parlor.”
A wide grin spread over Jeffrey’s features at the name.
“Gibson, you say? I’ll be damned. Send up tea and—no wait, better make it brandy.”
“As you say, Sir.” Alfred bowed and hurried away as Jeffrey bounded toward the parlor. For the moment, at least, all thoughts of Barbara and her infernal mouth were banished from his mind.
“Gibson, you gibface bastard!” Jeffrey cried as he came into the room.
Gibson, a man of somewhat abbreviated stature but who made up for his height in the booming of his voice, jumped up from his seat.
“Jeffrey, you ugly ratbag!”
The two men embraced enthusiastically, thumping each other on the back as if they meant to knock each other out.
“How the devil are ya, Captain? I heard you spewed all your guts on the deck and had to be stabled,” Gibson asked jovially.
“Oh it’s all a bunch of rot. I’m better already and still they won’t let me back out until summer. It’s a bloody inconvenience, and nothing more than that. But don’t tell me you came all the way here just to talk about my guts.”
Gibson scratched the back of his neck. His hair was unfashionably long, and when he made that chagrined expression he looked so much like the young boy Jeffrey had made friends with at school all those many years ago.
“Well, old sport, I heard you were fearful sick, to be honest. When I arrived to find you out I was rather surprised. I’d been under the impression you were bedridden yet.”
“And who the devil told you that?” Jeffrey demanded.
When a slow, apologetic smile began to creep over Gibson’s face, Jeffrey swore.
“One day I will teach that woman to quit poking her fingers in my affairs.”
“Yes well, your mother cares about you.”
Jeffrey rolled his eyes, then narrowed them at his friend. “And just why does my mother have your mailing address?”
“Didn’t she tell you?” Gibson asked,
“Tell me what?”
Gibson’s face turned serious, and he laid a hand on Jeffrey’s shoulder. “Blast it all…I was sure she would have mentioned something to you. I don’t know how else to tell you this…but I’m going to be your new father.”
Jeffrey shoved Gibson away as the man dissolved into laughter.
“Go to hell, Gibson,” Jeffrey said, though he couldn’t help laughing too.
“Honestly Jeff, God only knows how she found my address. She made it sound like you were at death’s door. So much that I had to rush out here to say goodbye before you were gone for good.”
“Well, as you can see, neither of my feet are in the grave this time. It might have been dicey for a few days at sea, but I’m all right now.”
“Looking a bit slimmer than I recall, though”
Jeffrey smiled. “Yes well, spewing one’s guts on the deck will do that to a man. At any rate, now that I’ve disappointed your plans for tearful farewells, will you be heading back home right away or…?”
Alfred appeared in the doorway with a rolling cart. Upon it was a decanter of brandy and crystal glasses. The man disappeared as quietly as he had come, and Jeffrey poured out for his friend and himself.
Gibson took a hearty swallow of the dark liquor. “I’ve cleared my schedule for the next couple of days at least. I’ve got to get home soon though.”
Jeffrey’s spirits sank. He had already been looking forward to a week or more of his old friend’s company. With Gibson here, the world seemed a bit less bleak and lonely.
“Busy with your barristering, I take it?” Jeffrey asked. While he had gone into the navy, Gibson had pursued a career in law. It all sounded terribly dull to Jeffrey, but Gibson had always been that type.
“Barrister-ing isn’t a real word. And yes. But no, that’s not why I’ve got to run back. My wife is fit to burst any time now.”
“Oh Christ, your wife. How is she? Sorry I couldn’t make it to the wedding.”
Gibson grinned. “I’ve grown accustomed to your absence. She’s doing fine, uncomfortable in the last leg of her confinement, and I think she’ll be greatly relieved to be delivered of the babe, but she’s fine.”
Jeffrey’s heart ached and he downed the last of his glass in a giant swig that burned his throat all the way down. Gibson was perhaps the only true friend he’d had in his entire life and he had grown accustomed to his absence. Gibson looked older than the last time they’d been together, he noticed. Fine lines were beginning to form around his eyes, and they deepened when he smiled.
Gibson had always been a man for the ladies. He’d been the biggest flirt in their school and had a positively wicked reputation. Any clout Jeffrey had managed to gain amongst the feminine side of society at that time had been merely the effect of his proximity to Gibson. It was odd to think of him now, happily settled with a pretty wife and a peaceful home, soon to be filled with the pitter-patter of children’s feet.
Jeffrey had always been the sensible, mature one. Now, it felt like the roles had been reversed. Jeffrey was trapped in the perpetual adolescence of stagnant bachelorhood while Gibson had moved on to greater things.
“Speaking of wives and babies. Still on your own, eh?” Gibson asked with a wry glance about the room. Clearly taking in the decidedly masculine styling of the townhouse.
“I begin to see why Mother summoned you,” Jeffrey replied.
“Cheer up you old miser, so you’ve been furloughed, all the better to spend the spring here in Jolly Old England! And just in time for all the famed English roses to come into bloom, eh?”
“I never took you for a horticulturist.”
&
nbsp; “Not flowers, man. Women. You’ve spent too much time at sea surrounded only by salty old men. Take the time you have to rest your eyes on finer things. Rest your hands too,” Gibson winked.
“Did my mother actually instruct you to come here and cajole me into courting?” Jeffrey rose to his feet and crossed to the window. Images of Barbara were flitting through his mind, and he wondered how much Gibson had been told already by his mother.
“She implied that you may need some convincing to get out and mix with society a bit. And she does have a point. You aren’t getting any younger. I know you're sore about your scars, Jeffrey, but you’re an Earl, for Christ’s sake. And a Captain of the Royal Navy. Surely you can find some sweet slip of skirt who can see past your…difficulties. You’ve got a title to pass on.”
Jeffrey didn’t know how to respond. Unbidden, the thought of Barbara’s soft lips against his own was dominating his thoughts again.
“I’ll be damned.” Gibson’s voice was lowered. “There is a girl, isn’t there? Don’t deny it, I can see it in your face.”
“It’s nothing,” Jeffrey murmured, but the denial was as good as an admission, apparently, because Gibson hooted with glee.
“Egad, he’s done it at last. Well? Who is she? Anyone I would know? Pretty? Young? Rich?” Gibson had left his chair as well and was now standing across from Jeffrey, crooking his head to the side to try and force himself into Jeffrey’s line of sight. Jeffrey stubbornly kept his eyes cast aside.
“I said it’s nothing. She just doesn’t know any better, that’s all.”
“Ah yes,” Gibson said with a comical look of wistfulness on his face. “What man doesn’t love a fool girl? Well chap, I don’t know about your mother, but I for one approve of your going for a tumble with an innocent. It’s good to keep your hand in, keep in practice for the Real Deal.”
Jeffrey shot his old friend a withering glare.
Gibson winced. “Sorry. Clearly, I misunderstood. I meant no offense.”
Jeffrey sighed, rolling his shoulders in agitation. “She’s not a fool. And she’s not a toy to practice with either.”
“So, what is she, then?”
Gibson directed Jeffrey back to his chair and Jeffrey was drawn into telling his friend the whole story from the beginning. As he told Gibson about the meeting at the ball, the orphanage, and all that had passed between himself and Barbara during their short acquaintance, the light in the room grew wan and pale with the length of the day.
“She kissed you, eh?” Gibson asked.
Jeffrey nodded. “Yes, it was so sudden I was caught off guard. I think she mistook my shock for disinterest at first and she fairly begged me to kiss her in return.”
Gibson gave a low whistle. “And did you?”
Jeffrey kicked his leg out and slouched in the chair. “Of course I did, I’m not an idiot.”
“And this was today?” Gibson asked, leaning in.
“Aye, I was just coming from there when I came in.”
“And?” Gibson asked expectantly.
Jeffrey looked up, confused. “And, what? That’s it.”
“Are you going to propose?”
“She can do better than me,” Jeffrey said with a scoff.
Gibson chuckled. “That’s for her to decide. Clearly she wants you.”
Jeffrey bounced his knee. He wanted to get up and pace the room again but he knew that showing his agitation would only encourage his friend.
“Only because she feels that she is running out of time. Apparently the tide of gossip here has been against her for some time. She’s too caught up in her charitable works instead of husband hunting, they say. The popular wisdom seems to be that she is letting the bloom of her youth pass her by and that she will be firmly on the shelf in another year’s time. She’s feeling desperate, that’s all.”
Gibson hummed quizzically. “Your logic is faulty. You forget that she’s the youngest daughter of a Duke. Duke’s daughters don’t get desperate. If she hasn’t got a husband by now it merely means that she’s been waiting for someone she likes. And it seems she’s found him.”
Jeffrey said nothing. It was too much to hope for something like that.
“Supposing that, whatever her motivations, she would accept you,” Gibson continued. “Would you ask her? Do you want her as a wife?”
Jeffrey’s gaze shot up at his friend as the weight of his answer struck him like a blow to the chest.
Yes.
Chapter 22
She almost wished that he would not come that day. Though the sun was shining with uncharacteristic fervor for an English spring, Barbara’s mind was clouded. She had woken up in time for dinner the night before after her nap and had to field worried questions and looks for the rest of the night. Her father, and indeed the staff, seemed convinced that she was seriously ill. It was extremely unusual for her to sleep the day away like that. He so unnerved her, threw her so off her balance, that every time they met it seemed to send her spiraling down a path that was unknown and dangerous to her.
She couldn't possibly explain to them that she felt as though her life had been sucked out of her by the stolen kiss of a damaged sea captain. All she wanted to do was fall into a dreamworld where nothing else existed but his arms around her waist and his mouth on hers.
When she arrived at the orphanage, an unfamiliar carriage was parked outside. It was not Jeffrey’s, she realized with a pang of disappointment. Curiosity drove her inside though and, at a glance from one of the workers, she went directly to the drawing room. She chewed on her lip as she entered, returning to the scene of the event that had so overwhelmed her thoughts for the past four-and-twenty hours.
She was shocked by the appearance of the man himself. Jeffrey was sitting in the chair, the one so near the place where they had kissed. She jumped, startled at his presence, and hoped he hadn’t noticed.
Another man was there as well, a friendly looking gentleman, finely dressed but with hair shaggy enough to make him approachable. His smile was friendly as he bowed his head to her.
Jeffrey rose to his feet. “Lady Barbara, this is my old schoolyard friend, Mister Gibson. He surprised me yesterday and demanded to see the orphanage that has taken up so much of my time and interest these days. Gibson, this is Lady Barbara Cluett, she’s the brains of this operation, as well as its heart.”
The friendly looking man surged forward and took her hand, raising it to his lips. Barbara smiled, pushing down an urge to laugh. There was something mirthful in the man’s gaze that was instantly contagious.
“Wonderful to meet you, My Lady,” Gibson said.
“The pleasure is mine, I’m sure, Mister Gibson.”
“Oh please, Gibson is fine. I’m on holiday, see, and I’ll have none of this Mister business to remind me of work,” he said with a widening grin. Barbara had never met a more mischievous looking gentleman.
“All right, Gibson,” she said with a laugh. “Well, any friend of the Captain is a friend of mine. You must also call me Barbara.”
Gibson clutched his heart theatrically. “Barbara…”
The playful wistfulness of his expression and voice brought forth a fit of giggles from Barbara, even as Jeffrey shook his head in embarrassment.
“Well, allow me to show you around the establishment. I confess I am rather proud of it. Though, surely you are aware of Jeffrey’s most generous contribution. We have already begun making plans for improvements to both the building itself and its accommodations—”
Thus launching into her most favored and easy subject of conversation, she led the gentlemen out of the drawing room and began her usual tour of the facility.
How clever Jeffrey is, to bring this man Gibson as a buffer between us.
Turning around, she smiled over Gibson’s head at Jeffrey. She couldn't imagine what the tension would have been like if it were just the two of them together again. Jeffrey smiled back.
Gibson’s animated interest in the orphanage made the morning pas
s smoothly and pleasantly. Jeffrey’s friend seemed to bring out another side of him. A boyish side that warmed Barbara’s heart. And Gibson was one of those gentlemen who could make anyone feel as though they’d been friends for years. With stunning ease, Gibson seemed to fold Barbara into his warm friendship with Jeffrey, explaining their inside jokes and stories and including her in them.
In the early afternoon, Barbara explained that this was when she normally returned home.
“You must allow me to see you again soon,” Gibson said earnestly. “I can take the carriage back to the townhouse, Jeffrey, I wouldn’t want to intrude further upon your day by joining you in escorting the lady home.”
A Seductive Lady For The Scarred Earl (Steamy Regency Romance) Page 15