by Sahara Kelly
“He burned through his funds?” asked Gabriel.
“Quite rapidly, I understand.”
“So he’s looking for an influx of capital, as is Fairhurst.” Royce pursed his lips.
“That’s why Randschen offered for me, of course. Anyone could see it wasn’t me he wanted, but Wolfbridge.” Gwyneth shrugged.
“The man’s not only a fool, but a penniless fool.” Royce dismissed him with a wave of his hand. “But given that we have two men desperate for money and lurking around here…there has to be some reason for it.”
“It’s possible that Gylbart might be the hand that has stirred the pot,” said Giles, his voice thoughtful. “He’s not actively seeking funds. Apparently his…his establishments are doing well, so he has no need of immediate financial help. But he’s one man who is always described as having an eye out for the next chance.”
“So you think Fairhurst and Randschen are looking to him to help with their woes?” Gwyneth frowned as she tried to see the larger picture.
“I think,” said Giles carefully, “based on what I learned, that Fairhurst would like to arrange the sale of Fivetrees to Gylbart. It would make an excellent quiet, out-of-the-way brothel. And I wouldn’t put it past Randschen to offer to run it for him.”
“It would certainly bring in the money,” said Jeremy, his voice cold. “This far from London…he could offer a lot of things that would be considered outrageous and perhaps even illegal in town. And the prices he’d charge?”’
“They’d be met, without a doubt.” Gabriel’s voice was even colder. “Vices are costly, because there are men who will pay that cost. Any cost. Just to get what they want, when they want it, with no questions asked.”
“Exactly,” said Giles. “But of course there is a problem.”
“You have control over Fivetrees, in Miss Fairhurst’s name.” Royce flashed him a grim look. “And that puts you squarely in the centre of a rather large target, Giles…”
“Oh no,” breathed Gwyneth. “Giles…”
“Rest easily, my dear. I’m no more a target now than I was yesterday or last month.” Giles smiled at her. “My guardianship of Miss Fairhurst, or—I should say—Lady Withersby, is a mere formality now that she is wed. Sir Ragnor and his lawyers will be taking a close look at Judith’s situation. That’s one of the reasons I was in London longer than I intended. I managed to sit in on several of those meetings, so I understand where the whole mess stands right now. It won’t be too long before it’s all in Sir Ragnor’s hands to manage for his wife.”
“That’s a relief, I suppose,” said Gwyneth. “But until that happens, you are at risk, you’ll have to admit.”
“And as that day of transition nears, they may get desperate,” added Evan, a worried look on his face.
Giles shrugged. “My deepest concern is not that I myself am at risk. It’s that Wolfbridge Manor is at risk.” His eyes turned to Gwyneth. “And that includes you, my dear, I’m sorry to say.”
“But why?” She tried to understand.
“If they can destroy Wolfbridge, destroy us…then their road to Fivetrees just got a lot easier. The mess surrounding our situation would preclude any settlement of my guardianship. It wouldn’t change it, but it would disrupt the process. Fairhurst could easily sue to retain the property on behalf of the family. Something he might do anyway, even though he has no support in that endeavour. His own family can’t stand him.”
Royce stood and stretched, and walked to the brandy tray, holding up the decanter and looking around. “Anyone?”
Everyone held up empty glasses.
He strolled from glass to glass, refilling them. “So we have to accept that Giles and Gwyneth are currently targets, since anything happening to them will put Wolfbridge into disarray and leave it vulnerable, thus allowing the Fairhurst-Randschen contingent chance to move in and take over Fivetrees for their own and Gylbart’s nefarious purposes.”
“In a nutshell, yes.”
“It’s a bit uncertain,” mused Jeremy. “They’re gambling on a lot of ‘ifs’…as are we with that supposition…”
“My understanding is that they don’t have much else to gamble with. And desperation is becoming the driving force, which—as we all know—leads to many stupid decisions.” Giles sighed.
“And the letter I received?” Gwyneth gazed at him.
He shook his head. “I could not find anything that would indicate any of those three men might have written it.” He sighed. “I learned that it was indeed hand-delivered, but the trail ended with a mail coach. It could have been slipped into the bag—I don’t know. All I do know is that its path to you, my Lady, seemed to begin there. At a busy coaching inn not far from London. Before that? Nothing.”
“I would like to put Randschen at the top of my list,” she said. “I turned down his offer. That must have hurt and offend on a personal level. It may be just me, but I feel that blackmail is personal in many ways. The only problem is that the likelihood of him learning about my past is extremely small.”
The room was quiet as this information was digested. Royce knew, and she had a feeling the others might have guessed something along those lines was going on.
“I tend to agree about Randschen,” Giles confirmed. “And a blackmail threat to you, could well be followed by more such threats. To us all.”
“Once again resulting in a certain amount of chaos,” noted Evan.
Jeremy pursed his lips. “It’s possible, I suppose.”
Giles looked at him, then around the room. “We all have secrets, lad. You know that, as does everyone here in this room. We’ve kept our lives private, but we’re also wise enough to know that sometime, somewhere, there’ll be a word spoken or a time mentioned…and that will be enough for those with the need to discover more.”
“And someone could dig up those secrets,” said Royce, his voice flat.
“Yes.”
“And Gwyneth is being threatened?” Gabriel’s eyes were wide and worried.
“I am letting Giles handle the matter, Gabriel. The threat is there, but as of now there’s been no further communication.” She sighed. “It’s more of a general threat. Revelation of our pasts could do considerable damage.”
“Which would play into the hands of Fairhurst, et al.,” commented Royce.
“It could, yes. But I have a suspicion that if it was any one of them, we’d know by now. They’re possibly waiting for a variety of events…if they had blackmail material on us, they should have moved already.” Giles looked thoughtful.
“And as I said, I never received another note, although one was promised,” added Gwyneth.
“God,” said Evan. “It’s almost as if we’re under siege, isn’t it?”
“In many ways, yes,” nodded Giles. “I’m afraid that is quite true.”
“Anyone who succeeds becomes a target, Giles. You know that as well as I.” Royce waved his forefinger at the other man. “Wolfbridge is successful, and you’ve got your hand on the heart of Fivetrees as well. That is more than enough for the greedy and the desperate.”
“So is there a bottom line to all this?” Jeremy, for once, looked weary.
“There is,” said Giles, rising and putting his empty glass back on the drinks tray. “Watch your backs. Watch our Lady’s back extra closely. Be prepared, be alert and be watchful.”
“That’s a comfort indeed,” Gwyneth commented as she too rose and put her glass on the tray. “Thank you, Giles. You’ve given me a lot to consider. I would guess that we’re all in your debt, and we couldn’t do any of this without you.” She stood on tiptoe and daringly dropped a light kiss on his cheek. “Get some rest. Tomorrow is the fête, so we must be especially vigilant.”
She left the room, knowing that the others might chat for a bit, but the odds were good they’d tap on her door to make sure she was tucked up and needed nothing.
They’d be surprised. She did need something. She needed them.
Chapter Twenty-Si
x
Journal of Gwyneth, Dowager Countess, Lady of Wolfbridge - the night before Whit Sunday, 1818
So much has happened since I last wrote here - I feel quite guilty for not keeping this journal as up to date as I should, but somehow it seems I must store up my observations and release them all at once. Were I to attempt a regular entry, along the lines of a diarist, I fear I would fail. It is not my habit nor my style. And I am coming to understand that I have both habits and styles, and neither are to be suppressed.
I’m learning those lessons from Wolfbridge and from its occupants.
I’m learning that I like being the Lady of the Manor, far more than I ever liked being a Countess. Here, the things I say matter. The ideas I have are listened to with respect and interest, and my opinions the same. I am not treated as an empty-headed woman fit only for bearing children and inviting other women to tea.
Here I have a say in what happens, a part in the daily life of the Manor, and the support and encouragement of four men who are rapidly becoming closer to me than anyone I’ve ever known. Yes, I do mean anyone. Michael’s memory will always be a bright spot in my heart, but now I’ve learned about true passion, the depths of desire and the heights of ecstasy. My love for Michael was that of a young girl in her first blush. I am no longer that girl. The woman I am now wants more.
And I’m fortunate in that my gentlemen will give me whatever I need.
My attempts to assist Evan in making jam - well I’ll never look at a pot of blackberry preserves the same way again. His lips, his mouth…the things he did to me on the kitchen table…those memories are full, rich and as flavourful as the jams we potted.
Was it only this morning? It seems like last year, and for an excellent reason.
Giles returned from London.
That was enough to drive most of my lascivious urges away, since he brought back information about the desperate financial situation of our two enemies. Randschen and Fairhurst, names that should not incur fear, are both rolled up, and we worry they have cast their eyes on Fivetrees as a possible site for a third name - Sir Alfred Gylbart. It seems he is known for his string of establishments serving the very worst in violent prostitution.
We’re all committed to see that this event never comes to pass. Each and every one living here at Wolfbridge has promised to be alert, to be observant and to be cautious. Giles and I may be the main targets, since he holds Fivetrees at the moment, and I hold Wolfbridge. Destroy either one of us and the tenuous strands tangle - possibly enough for those two villains to step in.
It was a difficult conversation over brandy, one where we faced the knowledge of our potential danger and sought ways to counteract any threats or attacks.
We shall proceed with caution. But we shall proceed. I was determined to make sure everyone fully understood that a threat to Wolfbridge should be met with resolve and common sense.
Fortunately, I made that statement before my gentlemen broached the second bottle of brandy, which they brought with them to my room after Giles retired for the night.
How did they know I needed them? I have no idea. But as I walked alone up the stairs my thoughts roamed in their direction. I was worried, I shall admit it, and perhaps a little frightened. It is quite a step from almost starving to death, to becoming the target of a plot to obtain a country estate.
But less than twenty minutes after I’d completed my evening toilette, there was a tap on the door. I heard a muffled laugh, and I knew what I would see when I opened it. There they were. All four of them, holding empty glasses and grinning at me. Royce held the decanter as well.
They requested entrance. As if I was going to refuse them!
I shall confess that it was the most wonderful experience to have these four amazing men surround me in my bed. They were all in various stages of undress, mostly just open shirts, but Jeremy had loosened his breeches while cursing Evan for such a wonderful dinner. My heart beat faster at the amount of bare skin I could see, and yes, the rest of me began to respond in that distinctive way I have found to be most exciting.
We talked, of course. They cajoled and threatened and promised and teased me into agreeing to never go outside alone. They tickled my feet and made me squeal; they kissed me lightly, nibbled my ears and vowed to commit many more erotic atrocities upon me.
To my shame, I urged them to do just that. By then, the brandy decanter was almost empty and each of us lay loosely around my bed.
Gabriel’s hands stroked my thighs, Jeremy ran his fingers down my neck and across my shoulders, while on the other side Royce casually held one of my breasts, as contented as if he were a King with an orb. I did notice a very respectable sceptre growing in his lap. And Evan? He was running his fingers from my ankle all the way up as far as he could toward my womanly parts.
I think I moaned from the sheer joy of it. I put my hand over Royce’s and pressed him to me, parted my thighs for Evan and Gabriel and let my nightgown drop off my shoulder to invite Jeremy’s hand to venture further.
How wanton, shocking, outrageous - and wonderful.
These men, these four handsome perfect male specimens, would give all that they had for Wolfbridge, and for its Lady. That would be me. I have come to not only like them, but to respect them for their differences as well as their similarities. And I would judge that they find some affection for me as well, since they seem to enjoy adventures like these.
Did matters remain where they were? Of course not. All of us found ourselves eager for more.
Breeches and shirts were discarded, willy-nilly, and I discovered my nightgown had disappeared at some point during one of Royce’s deeply fierce kisses.
To my astonishment, I felt neither embarrassment nor concern, only richly satisfying pleasure as naked skin touched mine. The warmth, the different textures, the tickle and scrape of hair over my flesh…when mixed with lips and hands and - yes - other parts? Sublime. Utterly sublime.
The candles were low, low enough that my sight was reduced, but my other senses seemed to increase. I felt lips, kisses all over my body. I felt fingertips, legs, arms…I felt the heavy brush of velvet silk prodding me as these wonderful men teased me in every sensually exotic way they could think of. And they could think of an awful lot of ways. My gentlemen are nothing if not creative.
There were moans and sighs, many coming from me.
Was it the brandy? Should I blame this on an over-indulgence of fine aged liquor?
No. To do that would be dishonest, and I have learned that I prefer honesty above all things. I am now a woman with desires, and this night I desired all my gentlemen. I needed their bodies, their hearts and their loving. It was the final step for me in becoming the Lady of Wolfbridge.
Every man pledged himself to me with his body.
I should clarify that, I suppose. Not every man penetrated my body. I am no whore with tricks like that at hand.
But I found myself atop Jeremy, his manhood near…so near…I raised up a little and he groaned as I found him and placed him within my hot and wet folds.
Evan knelt at Jeremy’s head, his hands on my cheeks, pulling me forward so that he could kiss me. The two men moved in relation to each other and suddenly I could take Evan in my mouth even as Jeremy moved inside me.
What an astounding moment that was.
Then Gabriel moved behind me and I felt the unique sensation of his strong manhood running up and down between my buttocks. He was damp - probably that tiny drop of liquid I have noticed before during intimacy - and I was very slippery from my own excitement.
Royce touched my breasts; kneeling beside me he could easily reach their tender tips. And I, obeying an impulse that simply appeared in my mind, I reached for him, squeezing and tugging gently on the skin that drifted over the iron beneath.
We must have presented an amazing tableau. Myself the focus of four men and their caresses, their desires…and each one doing his part to arouse me even further.
Jeremy’s hips moved and Gabri
el’s hands stretched my buttocks apart; a strangely arousing sensation. I could not speak, since I was busy laving Evan with my tongue and lips, but I could moan, which I did when I felt an unusual penetration from behind.
I had not imagined that such a thing would be pleasant, and truly I cannot say it was the most wonderful thrill. But the tiny stretches, when added to what everyone else was doing to me…well, it was an extra source of arousal that sent me soaring.
Gabriel didn’t penetrate me, which probably would have hurt me. He simply pressed himself against me, encouraging me to relax my muscles. As I obeyed, Jeremy thrust deeper, making me gasp and loose Evan. I was on the edge, the peak of a massive fall…and I released Royce as well, losing myself in my own body’s rise to the climax of ecstasy.
I think I screamed.
I know Jeremy cried out as I shattered around him; his spasms pushing me into a prolonged period of whirling madness. I felt Gabriel’s liquid heat erupt against my backside, and Royce and Evan finished for themselves what I had begun.
All of us, all five of us, shared a moment that had to be unique. Seconds where our hearts thundered like the hooves of racehorses, where our breath left our lungs, and where our bodies exploded into sensations for which there really are no words.
As my muscles surrendered, I collapsed onto Jeremy who slid from my body with a sigh. Gabriel, soft now, gently wiped away the evidence of his pleasure from my backside, and the others took care of such tasks themselves.
Finally we all lay in a tumble, exhausted, panting, quite sweaty and sated.
I spoke. I had to. I said “Thank you.”
I had anticipated humour at that somewhat irrelevant statement, and if I had had some profound expression ready at hand to deliver, I would have done so. But that was all my tired mind could produce. And it was something I really meant.
