by Sahara Kelly
He looked around and then walked over to her, sitting next to her on the couch. “Hallo.”
She blinked. “Er, hallo.”
“Damn fine brandy.” Ragnor smiled at her, leaned over and sniffed. “You smell nice.”
Judith’s jaw dropped.
Maud’s eyes narrowed and she shot a stern glance at her husband. “Laurie?”
He sighed dramatically. “I know, I know. All Hobson’s fault. He picked up the wrong decanter.”
“Oh dear,” she began to laugh. “That explains a lot.”
The gentlemen joined her laughter, leaving Judith—and to judge by their stunned looks, Lydia, Rose and Ivy as well—at a complete loss to explain this sudden attack of merriment.
“It’s a special blend, my dears,” explained Maud. “It has been, um, enhanced shall we say, by the addition of a certain tincture Laurie was given by a friend some years back. He’d been in Egypt and he’d managed to obtain a bottle of it.” She stretched a little. “Quite harmless, but productive of a bit of a euphoric sensation.”
Lydia looked at the gentlemen. “I’d say you have a gift for understatement, Lady Maud.”
Judith nodded and found Ragnor’s elbow digging her in the ribs.
“So are you going to marry me?”
She raised her eyes to heaven, praying for someone to help her make sense of an evening that was turning into something approaching the latest farce on Drury Lane.
“I don’t think we should discuss this matter right now, Sir Ragnor. Not when you’re in…when you are so…euphoric.”
“Pity.” He leaned back and closed his eyes briefly, then opened them and moved closer to her. “I like your bottom,” he whispered.
Judith was hard pressed not to yelp in embarrassment, but fortunately his hushed comment had gone unnoticed. However, she could not stand the thought of more improprieties spouting from his unguarded mouth, so she rose and shook out her skirts.
“Lady Maud, I know this might be improper, but could Sir Ragnor and I have a few moments alone? Perhaps in the small salon?” She stared fixedly at Maud, pouring her concerns into that gaze. “Please?”
Thankfully, Maud understood the message. “Of course, my dears.”
“Thank you,” she gasped, grabbing Ragnor by the arm. “Come along, sir. We have things we must talk about.”
He laughed. “Oh yes we do, beautiful siren.”
She clung to his hand, hoping her strength could keep it from drifting down her back to her bottom. In his current mood she wouldn’t put anything past him.
Getting him out of the room and somewhere private was the only course she could think of. And perhaps, since he was all amiability at the moment, she could get him to tell her how he felt about her.
*~~*~~*
Ragnor’s mind was full of bubbles.
Happy bubbles, sending waves of joy over his skin, turning bits of his world pink, and making him smile. A lot.
Judith’s hand in his felt right somehow, and his pink world settled more comfortably around the parts of him he could feel.
“What’s happening to you, Ragnor?” Her voice was a song, a melody of tones and colours.
“I don’t know,” he answered, the words falling from his mouth like snow in the winter. “I really don’t know. But it’s quite nice.”
“The brandy? Something in the brandy?”
He nodded, then shook his head, then nodded again. Experimenting to see how his neck worked.
“Stuff from Egypt. ‘Spect it’s Napoleon’s fault. Most things are. Or were.” He looked around. “Got any gooseberry tarts?”
“No. Sit down, Ragnor. Please.”
“Do you know what they call a woman of dubious virtue who wears a green dress?”
“No.”
“A gooseberry tart.” He began to chuckle, his body rocking with it.
She pushed him into a comfortable chair, which was acceptable. He knew she should sit too. So he pulled her down onto his lap, ignoring the funny little squawk she made as she landed. “You are perfect. And I like you just where you are. Please stay?”
She stared at him, a sigh emerging from her lips. “All right. If you wish.”
He settled them both. “I do.” Then he laughed. “I do. Those words. Never thought they’d ever come out of my mouth.”
“You didn’t?”
“No. Not me. Definitely not this Withersby.” He folded his lips tightly.
“Why not, Ragnor? Do you not wish to marry?”
“I didn’t. I don’t. Well, maybe I do, but I shouldn’t.”
“I don’t understand,” she said quietly, touching his face. He liked that. “Can you explain it to me, please?”
“Explain what?”
“Your indecision on the matter of marriage.”
“Ah, that.”
“Yes, dear. That.” She sounded as if she were being very patient. He liked patience in a woman. There’d been a woman named Patience once, too, come to think of it…
“Ragnor.” She snapped her fingers in front of his face, distracting him. “Marriage?”
He sighed. “Don’t trust it. Seldom works out and everyone’s miserable. I don’t want to be miserable.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Saw it for myself,” he answered on a gulp. “Saw m’mother fade away as my father neglected her with other women. They were wrong for each other from the start, I’d think, but they wed anyway. So much pain.” He shook his head.
“How sad,” she touched his face again.
He took her hand and held it against his cheek. “Swore I’d never do that to a woman. And up ‘til now I kept my word.”
“Did you ever find a woman you wanted to marry?”
“I want to marry you.”
“That’s good, and yes, you did tell me.” She let her hand stay against his skin. So warm. “But you never said why.”
“Good match,” he answered with a decisive nod. “Right girl.”
“That’s also good to hear.” She paused for a moment and he swore he could hear the blood pulsing just beneath her skin. “Do you cherish warm feelings for me, Ragnor?”
She shifted on his lap and her movements had their inevitable result.
“I am getting a lot of feelings about you, some of them quite warm, actually…I want you, Judith.” He moved his hips, knowing she’d feel his growing interest.
“Another very good thing,” she purred. “But besides wanting me, is there anything else you feel?”
“I feel I’d like to take your dress off and suckle your breasts,” he murmured, gazing down at her bosom. “I’ll wager they taste of strawberries and cream.”
“Ah,” she answered, her shoulders moving as she took a breath. “That would be lovely…” She caught his hand as it headed for her bodice, “but not right at this moment.”
“Damn,” he whined. “So close to heaven.” He heard her choke back a giggle. “Don’t laugh at me. I want you. I really do.”
“I’m happy to hear it. And yes, I want you as well. But marriage is more than wanting, Ragnor.”
He closed his eyes. “I’m getting awfully tired, sorry.”
“You may sleep shortly. Just answer me this one question, all right?”
“Mmm hmm.”
“Do you love me, Ragnor?”
He was silent as the meaning of her words percolated the warm blanket of euphoria coating his brain. “I don’t know. Not sure if I know how to love.” He opened his eyes. “What is love, anyway?” It was the most honest question he’d ever asked anyone.
She met his gaze, his eyes more blue than grey, the pupils large and reflecting her own image back to her. “I can’t say for sure, since I have no experience with it, but I believe it’s something like this…”
She leaned in and kissed him, a lingering pressure of her lips, a delicate touch of her tongue—he opened his mouth and welcomed her inside, his arms crushing her against him and turning her so that he could devour her.
In truth, this moment was blinding him, an epiphany of what a kiss could and should be, almost lifting them from the chair and floating them off into a world where nothing mattered but the two of them.
“Judith,” he moaned her name against her mouth, breathing her breath, duelling with her tongue as he drank her taste. “Judith…”
Breathless, she pulled apart, gasping, a tiny whimper breaking the silence between them. “Ragnor…”
“Marry me. I want you so badly.”
She stilled in his arms. “I want you too, Ragnor. I really do.”
“Then say yes, my dearest. Say yes and let me have you. Now, here, in this magnificent chair. I can slide up your dress, and you could…”
“Ragnor.”
He stopped, the sharp tone of her voice telling him she wasn’t talking about the same thing as he was. Dammit. “What? I won’t wrinkle your skirts, I promise…”
“Ragnor, no.”
Definitely not on the same page. He sighed.
“I want you, yes. That’s true. But that’s because I am possessed of very warm feelings when it comes to you. And what you can do to me.” She took a breath. “I’ve fallen in love with you, Ragnor Withersby. And I’d be overjoyed to marry you. But only if you find you can return my sentiments fully.”
“Uh…”
She eased away from his lap, leaving him cold and bereft. “When you have come to a conclusion as to your own feelings in this matter, let me know. Because that is when I shall tell you whether I’ll marry you. Only then, Ragnor. Do you understand me?”
He nodded, her words crystal clear, her face equally so as she looked at him with serious eyes.
“I do.” He chuckled. “There I go again.”
She sighed and walked toward the door.
“I keep saying that around you. Doesn’t that mean anything?” he called after her.
She paused and looked over her shoulder. “I don’t have any idea. Perhaps you should ask yourself that question”
He heard the door open and close. He knew he probably should get out of this chair and do something…leave…go somewhere…but he was just so comfortable…
Chapter Eighteen
M aud looked down at the elegant gentleman snoring in her parlour.
His fair hair was tumbled every which way, his cravat loosened, and a soft blanket covered the rest of him. She knew that because she’d placed it there last night. Poor chap was completely exhausted.
As well he should be
After a mammoth social blunder, a major screaming match with Judith, an awkward dinner and the accidental ingestion of a tincture Sir Laurence should have kept secured—well, Ragnor Withersby had had one hell of an evening.
Hobson walked quietly in and took his place by her side. “How’s the poor chap doing?”
Maud turned and looked at her faithful, intelligent, often uncannily intuitive, butler. “You did it on purpose, didn’t you?”
He lifted his chin. “My Lady, you wound me. As if I would deliberately do anything to calm down the tempers that seemed to be in danger of igniting a battle royale…”
She nudged him. “As a matter of fact, it wasn’t such a terrible idea. I wish I’d thought of it myself.” She looked back at Ragnor. “What do you think?”
“A bucket of cold water should do the trick, my Lady.”
She laughed softly. “You are so cruel. Let’s give him another half hour and then wake him? He can freshen up in one of the guest rooms and then have some breakfast.”
“I’ll see to it, my Lady.” He sighed. “The bucket of water is out, then?”
“Yes, Hobson. Waken the lad gently. It was a rough night, and I’m not sure today will be much better for him.”
“You predicted he’d be trouble, Ma’am.”
“I did, didn’t I? How astute of me.” She turned to her butler. “Is Judith awake yet?”
“If not, she will be soon. Her maid will be going up shortly.”
“Good. That gives me an hour or so, and I want a chance to talk to this one here…” she gestured to the sleeping Withersby, “before she comes down.”
Hobson bowed. “As you wish.”
She lingered a moment longer, noting Ragnor’s well-shaped hands, and his handsome profile. Was he the right man for Judith? She wished she had a better gift for foreseeing the future. Too many marriages went astray; too many couples wed for all the wrong reasons. Passion and desire could fade, the uniting of financial assets could result in a nightmare union—there were hundreds of reasons not to wed, but only one good one.
When two people truly loved each other. Laurie had been a blessing. And she’d known, the first moment she set eyes on him, that he would matter. She wasn’t sure how, but something inside her had burst into bloom.
Perhaps Judith felt the same way.
She didn’t know, so instead of wondering, it was time to discover out exactly where these two stood.
She managed to finish most of her light breakfast and start a second cup of tea when Ragnor peered in around the door. “Good morning. May I…?”
“Of course. I’ll wager you find yourself devilishly sharp-set this morning.” She grinned at him.
“I…er…” He moved to the table and took his seat, unusually tongue-tied.
“Before you go any further…” Maud held up her hand. “Sir Laurence and I owe you an apology. The brandy you consumed last night was not intended for public distribution.”
Ragnor frowned. “I believe someone mentioned an Egyptian tincture?”
“Yes,” she cleared her throat. “Laurie and I indulge now and again. It is not harmful, but does help relax the stresses of life. A friend of his returned from Egypt with a bottle he’d smuggled out of the country; I prefer not to know the details. I worried at first that it was something like opium, but after Laurie had done his research, we discovered we could indeed manage small amounts with no ill effects.” She grinned. “In fact, the effects are very pleasant.”
“Well, I suppose so. Yes. In a strange manner.” He gulped down tea.
“Do you have a headache or any physical discomfort this morning?”
He blinked over his cup. “As a matter of fact, no. No I don’t. Although I confess I felt some of the symptoms of drunkenness, in a different kind of way…” He shook his head. “No, no after effects at all. How strange.”
“I’m glad. And we thought it best to let you sleep, again, I apologise if that was unwise.”
“Not at all.” He waved it away. “I have nobody worrying about my whereabouts, and I appreciate your letting me collapse on your sofa. It was, come to think of it, a surprisingly restful night.”
“Good.” Maud sat back. “Now that we’ve established your excellent health, we must speak of Judith.”
“Oh dear.” He met her gaze. “Must we?”
“Yes.”
“Very well,” he sighed, returning his cup to the saucer. “Go ahead.”
“I’m hoping it is you who will go ahead, as you put it.”
“Me?” The grey-blue eyes widened. “I have requested her hand in marriage, albeit in a somewhat circuitous fashion, I’ll admit. But the offer has been made.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why do you want to marry Judith?” Maud wanted to grin at his surprise, but kept her countenance.
“Well…I…er…” he sputtered. “That’s a strange question.”
“Not at all.” Lady Maud folded her hands tidily in front of her. “I think it’s quite important. There is no question of any kind of financial merger, of course, since at this point, Judith’s dowry is dependent upon the resolution of her uncle’s estate which is taking time. And you don’t need a fortune anyway. So leaving money out of it, why do you wish to wed?”
He thought about it for a moment or two. “I am obliged to wed at some point. Withersbys do, and thus our line continues. I am the eldest, so Withersby Park will come to me, and—in due course—to my son.”
“You are an only child, I believe?”
His head went up. “Yes.”
“And your parents…?”
“Deceased.”
“Ah. My sympathies.” Maud watched his face. It was blank; devoid of expression. There was something there.
“I do have a dear Aunt. Baroness Wilhemina Withersby. My late father’s sister. She and I are close.”
“Good. Family is to be cherished, whether it’s one person or a houseful.” Maud nodded approvingly. “I may have seen the Baroness a time or two. The name is familiar now that I’m making the connection.”
A smile wreathed his lips. “She doesn’t get out too often, but she certainly stays abreast of everything. I swear she gets the latest news before the Gazette.”
Maud grinned back. “Isn’t that amazing? I hope I can do that when I grow old.”
“I cannot see that happening, my Lady. Not to one of your beauty and brilliance.”
“Oh dear. Just stop that. Flummery this early doesn’t settle well after tea and omelettes.” She chuckled, taking the sting out of her words. “However, as a diversionary tactic it was quite admirable. Now. Back to Judith.”
He sighed.
“Why do you wish to marry her? There are many better candidates out there, Sir Ragnor. I’m not disparaging Judith in any way of course, but you could look higher.”
“I know.” He nodded. “But I won’t. I believe Judith and I will be able to establish a comfortable union. Our shared likes and dislikes are a good indicator, and our temperaments complement each other. Mostly.” He frowned as he recalled a certain screaming match last night.
“You’ll want children…”
“Of course.”
“Shall you mind the getting of them?” It was a blunt question, but Maud was interested in his response.
“Good God, no.”
There. There it was. He swallowed and his eyes shifted, two moments before he moved on his chair. Tiny signs, but definitely there. Their physical union wouldn’t be an issue.
She smiled. “I’m glad to hear it.”
“Has Judith…have you spoken…I mean…”
“No,” she interrupted. “No, I’ve not spoken to her this morning. I wanted to speak to you. Mainly because, my dear fellow, you seem so well-versed in all matters of Society behaviour. You are a sterling example of London’s eligible bachelors, and your ability to render a woman breathless with your smile has been noted and approved.”
