Bolting from her chair, she stretched out her arms in a pleading gesture, uncaring that her fruit tumbled out of her robe and fell to the floor. “I nay wish to return, My Grace! You cannot send me away! You cannot!”
“I promise you that I can.”
“Do not force me away,” Splendor begged, feeling tears fill her eyes.
Her tears bothered him immensely. He drummed his fingers upon his desk, his emotions at war.
“Please, My Grace.”
Jourdian got up, walked around his desk, and stopped beside her. “Splendor—”
“Let me stay with you,” she whimpered. “I want so much to stay with you.”
When she snuggled next to his chest, he automatically put his arms around her slight shoulders, and he could feel her misery surge through her.
“My Grace? Will you send me away?”
How like a little girl she sounded at this moment, he thought. And yet, she was a thirty-two-year-old woman.
Thirty-two years old. Old enough to be on her own.
He realized he didn’t have to deliver her back to her family; her age relieved him of that obligation.
But what in God’s name was he to do with her? “Sprite,” he said as gently as he could, “wouldn’t you like to live with Reverend Shrewsbury and his wife? The reverend is the man you met yesterday. He and his wife live in a nice house not far—”
“Nay,” she cried softly. “I do not know those people. If you send me to them, I shall not stay. No matter where you send me, My Grace, I shall not stay, but will return to you time and again.”
“But—” He broke off when she curled her arms around his waist and embraced him with all the strength her delicate body held. Irresolution scrambled his every thought, and he knew he could not make a rational decision until he’d had time to think the situation through.
He’d allow her to remain with him for tonight. One more night beneath his roof would do no harm. In the morning, he would decide what to do with her.
Yes, things would look much brighter in the morning.
Jourdian dreamed of Splendor that night.
She was in his bed, naked, warm, and cuddled in his arms. He dreamed of her scent too, so fresh and sweet, so perfect for her.
He wore no nightclothes either, and so he could feel her soft skin upon his bare chest and her slender legs tucked between his. Moonlight spilled silver over her pearly flesh, over her pretty pink lips, which quivered slightly as she breathed. Her extraordinary hair lay over his pillow, covered his sheets, and it was upon that fragrant pool of copper that he slept.
Strangely, it wasn’t sexual desire that filled him while he dreamed of her in his bed.
It was a feeling of contentment, one of comfort and affection, and he remembered how he’d longed for such feelings when he’d been a lad, when there had been no one in the house to offer him such serenity.
He sighed with pleasure and he hoped the night lasted a long while and he slipped deeper and deeper into the dream.
It was the best he’d ever had.
“Jourdian, for pity’s sake, wake up!”
Rudely yanked from slumber, Jourdian opened one eye.
“The hour is late,” Emil declared, giving his cousin’s shoulder a firm shake. “It’s already half past one, and you’re yet lying about! Show a leg, won’t you? You’ve pressing business to attend to!”
“Get out,” Jourdian murmured. Wanting to return to his dream, he turned to his side. “I’m going back to sleep.”
“The hell you are! The entire country is talking about you, and you must do something to dispel the rumors! Reverend Shrewsbury and Percival Brackett have done a thorough job of—”
“Reverend Shrewsbury? Is he here?”
“Here?”
“The note,” Jourdian replied groggily. “You took him the note I wrote to him. If he’s come to collect Splendor—”
“What? No, he hasn’t come to collect Splendor! I burned the note, Jourdian!”
“You burned it? Why?”
“Because… Oh, for pity’s sake, I’m not here to discuss the blasted note! Damn you for a cad! You’re no better than Niall Marston!”
Jourdian rubbed his hand over his face, trying in vain to understand what the womanizer, Niall Marston, had to do with the burned note to Reverend Shrewsbury.
“You’ve made Splendor your mistress, Jourdian, and now you must—”
“What?” Wide awake then, Jourdian sat straight up. “I’ve done no such thing!”
Emil ripped the covers off the bed, and there beside Jourdian lay a very naked Splendor. “What is she doing in your bed then, cousin? Chasing away any nightmares you might have? At least Niall tarries with experienced women! You’ve taken an innocent to your bed!”
Shock slammed into Jourdian, followed by a blow of bewilderment.
Splendor lay sleeping on the other side of his bed, her body curled up in a tight little ball, her hair her only covering.
Jourdian looked up at Emil, then down at Splendor, then back up at Emil. “It wasn’t a dream,” he whispered. “Twice I’ve thought her a dream, and twice she’s proved me wrong. How did she— When did she— What the blazes is she doing in my bed?”
Emil folded his arms across his chest. “It appears as though she’s sleeping now. The question, then, is what was she doing in your bed before she fell asleep?”
Jourdian jumped out of bed and threw on the purple robe he’d lent to Splendor. “Do you think I— Are you saying that I— Emil, what the bloody hell do you think I’ve done to her?” At all the loud talking, Splendor began to stir and stretch and moan softly.
Instantly, Jourdian caught Emil’s arm and pulled his cousin out of the room. In the corridor, the heated conversation continued. “I assure you that I didn’t invite Splendor to my bed! Yesterday she took on and on about sleeping with me, but— She doesn’t know— Isn’t aware of what takes place between a man and a— I have not taken her innocence, dammit!”
“She was in your room yesterday, too, and you kissed her.”
“Since when is kissing a woman a crime?”
“Now she’s naked in your bed.”
“I was asleep when she got into my bed, and I—”
“All right, fine. Fine. You haven’t stolen her virtue. But what are you going to do about all the beastly gossip to the contrary?”
“What gossip are you talking about?”
Emil shook his head.
“Stop shaking your head like some woebegone hound dog, and tell me what’s so upset you! What is this abhorrent tattle?”
“It’s about you. You and Splendor. I heard the whole of the story this morning from Godfrey Sheffield, who heard it from Sebastian Putnam, who got it from his sister, Elizabeth, who heard her mother whispering about it with Lady Holden. From what I’ve been able to gather, Lady Holden learned of it from Lady Culbert, who got it straight from Lady Briggs. And, as I’m sure you know, Lady Briggs is a good friend of Lady Hewlett, who, in turn, is Lady Chesterton’s frequent companion. Lady Chesterton told Lady Hewlett that Marianna is prostrate with grief and that she has taken to her bed, vowing never to rise again! I told you she thought there was more to your relationship than you let on! Her father is incensed that you—the most highly regarded peer in all the realm—would stoop so low as to—”
“Emil… Wait.” Jourdian’s confused thoughts spun so quickly, he felt as though his head had turned into a top. “What gossip—”
“It was Percival Brackett who carried the news to the Chesterton estate late yesterday evening. To strengthen his efforts to win Marianna, no doubt. He… The ass called Splendor an uncivilized little twit! And Reverend Shrewsbury saw to the task of advising the local gentry. You know how obnoxiously verbose that so-called man of God is. I’ve no doubt he told every commoner he could find as well! The scandal is probably well on its way to London now, and—”
“What scandal are you talking about, damn it all?” Jourdian roared.
�
�That you’ve brought a country trollop to live with you at your ducal seat! Few would have raised an eyebrow if you had settled a doxie elsewhere. You could have placed her somewhere in London or in some small house near your estate. You could have gone to visit her in a cave in the middle of nowhere, for that matter. It’s the fact that you brought her to Heathcourte that has stirred such shock. It’s your duchess who should reside beneath this roof, and Splendor’s presence here indicates to one and all that you prefer to live with a common strumpet than marry a woman of your own class!”
Livid with fury, Jourdian grabbed Emil’s coat collar. “She is not a common strumpet, do I make myself clear?”
“What? Oh, for pity’s sake, Jourdian, I know she’s not a common strumpet! I merely repeat what is being said about her!”
Jourdian released his cousin’s coat. “How did this happen? Who started this vicious hearsay?”
Emil looked straight into Jourdian’s eyes. “Splendor. She told the vicar that she was here to give you joy. Pleasure beyond anything you had ever known. And she was naked at the time. Yesterday afternoon, she met Percival Brackett right in your driveway. She told him that she was going to sleep in your chambers and please you. During that little encounter, she was wearing naught but your robe.”
Jourdian grabbed Emil’s arm again. “Emil, you don’t understand. The joy she says she desires to give—”
“Desire being the key word here.”
“Listen to me! She continues to say she wants to make me happy. When she speaks of giving me joy, she means just that. Joy, plain and simple, and not the kind found in bed. She doesn’t know anything at all about lovemaking. Has no idea whatsoever about—”
“Oh, come now, Jourdian. Surely she knows—”
“Nothing. She actually believed her pleasure came from my leg yesterday!”
“Your leg. I see. Jourdian, let go of my arm before you snap it in two.”
“I tried to explain… She was stirring against my leg, and I—” Jourdian let go of Emil’s arm and threw back his shoulders. “That is not the issue, Emil. The gossip being told about her is—”
“Utterly nasty, and I want to know what you’re going to do about it.”
“Do about it?” Jourdian glanced at his closed bedroom door, and struggled to find his composure. He shut his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath before looking at Emil again. “I will do nothing,” he replied, his voice calm and cool. “The gossip will die out as all rumors do.”
“They’re calling Splendor your peasant whore, Jourdian. I’ve no doubt she’s as innocent as you claim her to be, but your name suffers—”
“I don’t give a damn what anyone says—”
“Then give a thought to Splendor. Her reputation is in shreds. If you keep her here, the talk will increase among the ton and the local gentry. If you send her away, she will be an outcast among the lower classes as well. Beautiful though she is, no man will look twice at her, and you damned well know it.”
Jourdian walked down the length of the hall, then back again. Bloody hell. What was he going to do now?
“Marry her, Jourdian.”
Jourdian stared at his cousin as though Emil had just sprouted a second nose on his face. “Marry her? Have you lost your wits? She’s not the sort of woman—”
“Your preferences in women matter not at all now. Splendor is in terrible straits, and you are obligated to—”
“Her innocence remains intact, therefore I am not obligated—”
“The truth has no bearing whatsoever in this situation. What is of consequence is what everyone believes. And they believe the very worst. And what if her family hears? You may be sure they will not take this lightly. They’ll demand marriage, and they’ll have every right to take you before the courts if you do not comply.”
“She is thirty-two years old, and her age absolves me of—”
“What does her age have to do with this? An unmarried woman should be able to keep her virginity and reputation untarnished regardless of her age. Should her relatives hear of this scandal, you may be sure they will pounce upon you like a pack of bloodthirsty wolves. They’ll insist you make Splendor your duchess. They’ll—”
“But I haven’t touched—”
“So you’ve said, but you have sullied her honor, however indirectly.”
Mindless of his state of dress, Jourdian marched down the corridor, turned the corner, and headed for the grand staircase. Forget tea or coffee, he fumed. What he wanted now was a straight shot of liquor, and there was a bottle right in his office.
“Dammit, Jourdian,” Emil cursed, “you cannot leave Splendor to deal with this alone! She—”
“I have no intention of leaving her to deal with this sordid affair alone. I daresay she would make a worse mess of it.”
“Then what will you do?”
“Obviously, she cannot remain here any longer. If you hadn’t burned the note I penned to Reverend Shrewsbury—”
“Splendor spoke to the reverend before you wrote that note, Jourdian. The man already had ample gossip—”
“There are any number of locations across the country where I can settle her—”
“And if Splendor doesn’t want to go where you choose to settle her, what then?” Emil asked, following Jourdian toward the winding staircase.
“I’m afraid she has little choice in the matter.”
“You are most likely the only friend she’ll have left once the gossip has completely spread. How would you like it if your only friend put you in an unfamiliar place and then left you there?”
“I am not her friend.”
Emil seized Jourdian’s arm, forcing him to stop. “Then what are you to her?”
“We are acquaintances, and nothing more.”
“Even now she lies naked in your bed. I’d say the two of you are more than mere acquaintances. And your quick denial of having any sort of relationship with her whatsoever is evidence that she is something to you. But you’re too stubborn to admit it. Or is it that you’re afraid to own up to your feelings, Jourdian? To feel is to be vulnerable, isn’t that so?”
Jourdian snatched his arm out of Emil’s grasp and continued toward the stairway. “I will do what is best for Splendor, she will be forced to abide by my decision, and that is the end of it.”
“I’ve no doubt that whatever you ultimately decide is best for Splendor will be what is most convenient for yourself. You’re a cad, damn you.”
Jourdian stiffened, but didn’t reply. He reached the upper landing of the staircase and began his descent.
In only moments, he realized his going downstairs was a mistake.
Lady Holden and Lady Briggs stood in the marble foyer with a very flustered Ulmstead, and all three noticed Jourdian immediately.
“Your Grace,” Ulmstead said, looking up at his employer, “Lady Holden has come—”
“I apologize for having interrupted your leisurely afternoon,” Mildred Holden announced, taking note of the duke’s lounging robe, “but I have come to extend you a personal invitation to a dinner party that I will be holding on Tuesday next.”
“And I have accompanied her on her errand,” Regina Briggs added.
Emil moved behind Jourdian and began to whisper. “The nosy biddies have only just invented the idea of a dinner party, Jourdian. They are here to catch a glimpse of Splendor with their own eyes.”
Jourdian was fully aware of the reason behind the matrons’ impromptu visit. Tightening the sash on his robe, he sent down a glare designed to intimidate the two gossip mongers.
He succeeded. Both ladies backed toward the door.
But they stopped instantly when a small voice shimmered through the foyer.
“My Grace,” Splendor said, rubbing sleep from her eyes as she stood at the top of the staircase, “you are wearing my piece of satin.”
“Oh, God,” Emil muttered. “Jourdian, she’s naked.”
Jourdian did not look up at her. Rather, he kept his gaze
nailed to the two women standing by the door.
He saw the unmistakable gleam of pure satisfaction in their eyes, and on their wrinkled mouths there curved malicious smiles.
They’re calling Splendor your peasant whore, Jourdian.
Fury made him grit his teeth. Even now the two busybody harridans were probably thinking of other foul titles to give to Splendor.
Splendor, whose purity rivaled that of a newborn babe.
“You’ve gotten what you came for, have you not?” he snapped down at the women. “There she is, at the top of the stairs. Look at her carefully. Memorize every detail so that you can describe her accurately.”
Her eyes darting from the duke to the naked girl, Mildred Holden raised one gray eyebrow. “I’m sure we have no idea what you’re talking—”
“You’re wasting precious time arguing, Lady Holden,” Jourdian said with a sneer. “You’ve further rumors to spread, have you not? With such an important mission to accomplish, I suggest you be on your way. Now.”
They could not leave fast enough.
Jourdian glared at the door, too enraged to speak.
But voices in his head fairly shouted.
No matter where you send me, My Grace, I shall not stay, but will return to you time and time again.
The ass called Splendor an uncivilized little twit!
I’ve no doubt that whatever you ultimately decide is best for Splendor will be what is most convenient for yourself.
The voices shot through Jourdian’s head like a barrage of bullets. He felt like smashing his fist into the wall.
Instead, he drew himself up to his full height and faced his cousin. “Emil,” he said softly, his voice simmering with bitterness, “bring the vicar here.”
Emil nodded and smiled. Jourdian planned to confront the holier-than-thou Reverend Shrewsbury! “I’ll bring Percival as well,” he said, looking forward to watching his cousin berate the two men who had caused such trouble.
“I will deal with Percival later.”
“But—”
“Bring Reverend Shrewsbury. I don’t care where you have to go to find him, but I want you to drag his immoral hide here immediately.”
A Basket of Wishes Page 12
