Word of a Lady: A Risqué Regency Romance (The Six Pearls of Baron Ridlington Book 3)

by Sahara Kelly

  “That as well.”

  “Good. Thank you for the sop to my ego.” Edmund shot him a curious look. “But do go on.”

  James swallowed, not quite sure how to begin the conversation. He took a leap of faith. “It’s about Letitia.”

  Edmund accepted the comment with a nod. “Yes?”

  “Well, you know, over the last year or so we’ve become quite well acquainted…”

  “Yes,” said Edmund encouragingly.

  “And now that she has her own maid, and you and Rosaline are progressing with the Ridlington affairs, not to mention expanding the family…”

  “A most pleasurable addition,” grinned Edward. “Bit noisy and messy, but delightful all the same.”

  “Of course,” concurred James. “But about Letitia…”

  “Sorry. A momentary excess of paternal pride. Please continue.”

  “She has been of enormous assistance with the building process, the design and so on, of FitzArden Hall…”

  “Indeed,” answered Edmund.

  “It probably won’t come as a shock to you if I mention that I have developed the greatest respect for her intellect…”

  “Well deserved. She is a bright young woman.”

  “I’ve also come to appreciate her organizational skills…the way she has helped out since young Hugh arrived…”

  Edmund sighed and drew his horse to a halt. “James, for an intelligent man you are demonstrating an appalling ability to beat more than a few bushes to death. I swear this entire hedge is cowering.” He waved a hand down the lane. “Get to the point, man, before winter sets in.”

  “I’m going to marry her.”

  “Well about damn time.” Edmund grinned, leaned over and shook James’s hand, then clicked up his horse.

  James, rather stunned at his blunt statement, not to mention Edmund’s reaction, followed suit. “So you don’t mind?”

  “God, no. We’ve been expecting it for some time. You and she get on well, you’re aware of our financial situation, thus you’re certainly not marrying her for her fortune, since there isn’t one, so…”

  “But…”

  “Look, we’re men. You have stated your intentions toward my sister, and I heartily approve. As far as I’m concerned, that takes care of it for the two of us.” He looked over at James. “The one thing you’re going to have to do now is convince Letitia. And since she’s stated many times that she isn’t planning on marrying anyone, all I can say is good luck to you with that task.”

  “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” James narrowed his eyes.

  “Not half as much as I’m going to enjoy watching you persuade her to your way of thinking.”

  James sighed, knowing Edmund was right. He would need all his wits about him to win the woman he desired.

  But by God, it would be worth it.

  Chapter Six

  Unaware that her future had been discussed and settled by her brother and James, Letitia was walking in the opposite direction, away from Ridlington, with her companion.

  “And why are we going to the village, again?” Harriet looked at her.

  “I told you. We need the exercise and fresh air.”

  Letitia’s breezy response immediately had Harriet wondering what the real reason might be. “I see,” she answered.

  Letitia glanced over at her. “Harry, am I working you too hard?”

  “Good Lord no. In fact, you don’t give me enough to do.”

  “You see, I’m not sure exactly what a maid should be doing. So I thought I should ensure that you’re not overworked. Especially since there are no wages involved.” Letitia looked a little embarrassed.

  “Oh, please, Letitia. We both know that I’m not really a maid, and since my only experience with one was the poor woman who waited on my aunt, hand and foot, I can say with the utmost certainty that you are not overburdening me at all.”

  “You are sure?”

  “Of course. You retire early and other than untie your laces, and hang your gowns, I have nothing else to do. You allow me to bring you tea in the morning, but most often you are already up and almost dressed. During the day? Barely anything.”

  “I do make you walk with me…”

  “And that is a pleasure, for both of us I hope.”

  Letitia smiled. “Indeed it is. I count it most fortuitous that we met, Harry. For I didn’t need a maid. I realize that now. What I did need? A friend.”

  “And you have one.”

  “I do. I’m most grateful.” She linked her arm through Harry’s. “Now. I have been giving much thought to the matter of my manuscript.”

  “Ah.” Harriet remained cautious. She was learning that Letitia, delightful young lady though she was, had a side to her that was unexpectedly adult and definitely determined. The unexpected was fodder for her ideas, as could be seen from the contents of the book. The determination was evident in her eyes.

  Harry had read it from cover to cover. She was convinced that it might well have changed her life forever. The knowledge she had gleaned…well it was shocking, of course. But so fascinating. Thanks to Letitia’s unique volume, Harriet found herself wondering if intimacy with a man might not be as objectionable as she had come to believe.

  Of course, it had to be the right man.

  “It seems that gaining some first-hand experience is the only way I’m going to be able to fulfil the terms of the contract.”

  Harry blinked as the full meaning of Letitia’s statement sank in. “Uh…”

  “What I am going to need is someone who will assist me in my research.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me.” Letitia chuckled. “I need a willing subject.”

  “A willing subject?” repeated Harry, just to be sure she’d heard aright.

  “Yes. I need a gentleman who will assist me in discovering some of the…the…sensual experiences that apparently my book is lacking.”

  Harriet stopped, pulling Letitia to a halt beside her. “Letitia. As your friend, it is definitely incumbent upon me to encourage you to think this plan through.”

  “Oh, I have. Believe me.” Letitia started to walk again. “I see no obstacles to the plan.”

  “Wait.” Harriet stopped her once more. “You’re looking for a man, someone you’ve probably never met, to engage in…in…”

  “Sexual caresses. Yes.”

  Harriet shook her head. “Couldn’t you just make it up? You are writing fiction, after all, aren’t you?”

  Letitia frowned. “Yes, but I can’t make up something I don’t know anything about, can I?”

  “You did it with most of the sexual congress scenes.”

  “No, I didn’t,” remonstrated Letitia. “Those were the result of many hours of research with a number of relevant books, the most important being The School of Venus.” She tugged Harriet onward, “It was most detailed, I can assure you.”

  “I’m sure it was, but…but Letitia…you can’t…” Harriet dug her heels into the gravel, bringing Letitia once more to a halt.

  “Well I won’t if you continually make us stop short like mechanical toys.” Letitia turned to look at Harriet, meeting her gaze head on. “I have made a commitment, Harry. This book is going to be published and it will be the best I can possibly make it. If I have to rent a man to assist me in fleshing out the details of certain scenes, then I will.” She frowned. “I hope he’s not too expensive though. I’m not what you might call flush with funds at the moment.”

  Harriet closed her eyes. “Is there any insanity in the Ridlington line?”

  “No, just some very unpleasant personalities. Some may have thought them ripe for Bedlam, but none ended up there, as far as I know.”

  Just managing to resist the urge to either scream or grab her friend by the neck and shake her until some common sense rose to the surface of her brain, Harriet gritted her teeth. “You. Cannot. Hire. A. Man.” The words came out like shots from duelling pistols.

  “Don’
t be silly. Of course I can. Men can certainly hire women. This is exactly the same, just the other way around.”

  Harriet’s choked scream made Letitia laugh. “Oh for Heaven’s sake, Harry. We’ll have no problem finding the right person. Trust me. There are three men awaiting us at the inn right this moment.”

  To her everlasting astonishment, Harriet did not faint upon receiving this news.

  But it was a damned close thing.

  *~~*~~*

  “Where are they, Mrs. Fisher?”

  Harriet’s heart sank as the woman behind the tall counter waved to one side. “In the small parlour, Miss Ridlington. Not sure why you want them in there, but I did as you asked.” She shot Letitia a look which combined just the right amount of curiosity and respectful disapproval.

  “You can’t be too careful when you’re thinking of hiring a new stable hand, you know.”

  “But there’s young Arthur from the Sterling Farm…he’s a good lad with a lot of promise…”

  “I’m sure he is, and I’ll let my brother know.” Letitia smiled. “But this is my chore, so I must get to it. In the snug, you say?”

  “Yes. Three of them.”

  “Very well, thank you.”

  Harriet remained silent, since there wasn’t much she could say that didn’t involve shrieking loudly, clapping her hands to her face and dashing from the inn.

  “Damn.” Letitia swore softly as she led Harriet to the small room off the snug. “There should have been four. Oh well. Three will do, to start with.”

  “Letitia…please…” Harriet attempted one last remonstrance. “This is not acceptable in the least. And if word got out—think of the scandal for you, and your family. Haven’t they had enough?”

  That made Letitia pause. “Hmm. You raise excellent points, dear Harry. You are indeed the voice of reason.” She shrugged. “However, these men have come for an interview, and an interview they shall have. Now,” she turned to Harriet. “I would like you to go and send them in, one by one. I shall let you know when I’m ready for the next one.”

  “Oh dear God.” Harriet fought for breath. “This is going to be trouble, for certain.”

  “Nonsense. This plan is flawless.” Letitia sailed into snug and closed the door.

  “Hah.” Harriet removed her damp gloves, wiped her palms on her skirt, and walked into the little parlour.

  Where she met the intense scrutiny of three pairs of curious eyes. They all rose at her entrance, which gave them some additional credibility, but still. She felt awkward, embarrassed and more than a little uncomfortable.

  “Good day to you, sirs. Thank you for answering Miss…” Oh God. What name had her irrepressible mistress used? She compromised. “My mistress’s inquiry. She would like to see each of you, one at a time.”

  There was a slight tap on the connecting door, and Harriet walked over to open it. “Are you ready, Ma’am?”

  She received a nod, and turned. “Who would care to go first?”

  “I will, Miss. John Harks.” A burly man stood and dipped his head respectfully, filling the space with his shoulders and chest. He looked as if he’d be more comfortable wrestling horses than grooming them, but he had applied and was about to be interviewed. If that’s what Letitia planned.

  Harriet’s mind froze at the idea of her “auditioning” potential lovers. Or suitors. Or whatever Letitia was going to call them.

  “Very well. Go through if you please.” Glancing over her shoulder, she addressed Letitia. “Mr. Harks, Ma’am.” She held the door wide to allow the man to pass through, then shut it behind him.

  “I’m not sure how long this process will be,” she smiled at the other two. “I hope it won’t be an inconvenience, gentlemen.”

  They murmured appropriate responses, each seeming as awkward as she felt. One was tall, lean and with a touch of sun in his hair and skin. Everyone had dressed in their best clothing, she noted, and the other man had a somewhat rakish air about him. His hair was dark and well-groomed, and he wasn’t embarrassed to meet her eyes and smile at her.

  Fifteen minutes of this, and Harriet was ready to scream, so it was a relief when she heard the outer door of the parlour close, and the tap summoning the next applicant.

  “Who would like to go next?” she rose.

  “Will Smythe, Ma’am.” Mr. Tall and Lean stood, stooping a little.

  She nodded and repeated the process, introducing him by name as she opened the door. Catching a glance at Letitia, she saw nothing amiss. No clothing askew or fallen curls. Which was, all things considered, rather a relief.

  Alone with the final candidate, Harriet resumed her seat, only to find him moving his chair closer. He leaned back and stretched out his legs, crossing them at the ankle and observing her.

  “So tell me about yer mistress then, dear.” His smile was warmly suggestive. “She must be a good woman to have as lovely a maid as yerself.”

  Ah. Flirtation. She should have expected it, sitting alone with a man she didn’t know. “My mistress is a kind woman, who does not approve of improper conversation, sir,” lied Harriet with a clear conscience.

  “How about you, then, pretty girl? Do you approve of improper conversation? Is there some lucky footman you favour with a glimpse of that lovely bosom on the back stairs?”

  She straightened. “Certainly not.”

  “Oh good. There’s hope for Sam Pewsey then. I shall dream of the moment I get to touch that soft skin lurking under that simple dress of yours.” He licked his lips, his eyes hot. “You wear it like a princess, lovey. And I’ll wager you take it off like one as well.”

  “Mister Pewsey.” She stood. “You are quite inappropriate and I will not stay to listen to more of your lurid nonsense.” There. That should do it. “When you hear my mistress tap on the door, go in. But rest assured I shall not forget the tone of your conversation if I am asked for an opinion.”

  He laughed. “Maids aren’t allowed opinions, pretty girl.” He waved her away. “Go. Leave me to work my magic on yer mistress. You and I will have business together very soon.” He grinned. “And I promise you’ll love it.”

  Clamping her mouth shut on the set-down she so longed to give him, Harriet stalked out the door.

  And walked slap into the chest of Sir James FitzArden.

  Chapter Seven

  She looked—distraught.

  The notion darted into James’s mind as he caught Miss Harry and steadied her on her feet. “Easy there. Are you all right?”

  Meeting his gaze, he saw her eyes widen, perhaps in concern. “Oh, Sir James…yes thank you, sir. I do apologize. I was not paying attention to where I was going.”

  James considered that. “What is she up to?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Letitia. Your mistress. You wouldn’t be here if she were elsewhere, so one assumes her presence in the inn. Plus,” he grinned. “I’ve known her long enough to realize that she’s quite capable of getting quite outrageous bees in her bonnet.”

  Harriet swallowed, and lowered her gaze.

  “I see I’m not far off the mark.” He sighed. “Shall we take a seat?” He guided her to a bench by the window.

  “Sir, there’s no need…”

  “Of course there is.” He seated her. “I shall hold you captive with my charm until you tell me why you, and by default, your mistress, are here. And what maggot of foolishness she’s nurturing now.”

  “Sir,” Harry bristled. “You are doing Miss Letitia a grave injustice. She is a very intelligent woman with many brilliant ideas. Your conversation leads me to believe you view her as a ninnyhammer, but I can assure you nothing could be further from the truth.”

  James’s eyes narrowed. “Your protestations do you credit, Miss Harry. Your phraseology credits the governess who taught you well, but isn’t really what one would expect from a maid.”

  “Um…yes, sir. I understand your point. I will attempt to be less…verbal.”

  “Quite.” He eye
d her with a measure of curiosity. “So what are you doing here?”

  “I…er…” she sighed. “I cannot tell you without betraying a confidence. And that I refuse to do. I’m sorry.”

  He thought about that. “Fair enough. Let’s approach that question in a different way. This is a public place, and although I’m aware that Mrs. Fisher has rather a soft spot for Letitia, even she would require an appropriate reason for you two to be in separate places…”

  Harriet mulled over his words, wondered if she should point out the erroneous assumptions about the landlady, then decided not to. She just nodded. “That is acceptable. We are here so that Miss Letitia may interview potential stable hands.”

  James felt a frisson of concern shoot up his spine. “In a room upstairs?”

  “God, no.” Her eyebrows snapped into a frown. “In the small parlour there.” She pointed.

  “Well that’s something, I suppose.”

  “Indeed sir. I would have hoped you had a better opinion of Miss Letitia than to jump to that completely inappropriate conclusion.”

  James nodded. “I apologize. It was indeed quite wrong of me, and yes I do have a better opinion of her, although Heaven knows my conversation this morning isn’t indicative of that fact.”

  “Well, no, it’s not.” She eased a little in her chair and folded her hands in front of her on the table.

  “But I’m still not sure I understand. She would never hire a stable hand. That would be for Edmund to take care of.”

  “I know,” said Harriet sadly. “Believe me, I know.”

  “So,” mused James, “the question really is why is she interviewing men—men? Or one man?”

  “Three of them,” answered Harriet.

  “Three men then. Why on earth would she want private interviews with three potential stable hands?” His mind worked furiously.

  Harriet peeked up at him. “Um, if I may be permitted to offer a clue…”

  “Please do. Before my ears lobes catch fire from thinking too hard.”

  She laughed, as he’d intended, then leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Her book.”