Only Seduction Will Do

by Jenna Jaxon

  Crossing his legs, he picked up his wineglass and took a long pull at the crisp vintage. “When we arrive at Merrywell, my dear, I promise you, we will enjoy ourselves in the evenings with my sister and Dalbury. And by ourselves alone.”

  Frustration mounting, Alethea had managed to endure the empty nights while her husband set his affairs in order. Tonight, however, there would be no excuses. They would have to share a room together tonight, and by God if their marriage remained unconsummated after this, she would simply give up and take the veil. Except she doubted the Catholic Church took in nuns who were expecting a child. So her plans must work.

  At noon they stopped in High Wycomb to switch horses and after lunch removed to the carriage at Alethea’s suggestion. She didn’t want to be so fatigued by the end of the day that she couldn’t stay awake to seduce her husband. Snuggled up next to Jack under the blanket, she reveled in his abundant warmth and dreamed of more to come.

  Changing horses at the Swan in Tetsworth, Jack handed her a cup of hot rum punch, but they didn’t tarry long. The next stop should be their last for the night. Alethea hummed with excitement each time she imagined it—which was constantly. She’d been preparing herself for this time, in case Jack proved not to be the gentlest of men. He’d been raised in the colonies, likely with little instruction in the finer points of seducing women. Surely his upbringing must be allowed for. So tonight would surely hold more surprises, but she’d be ready. If only he’d give her the chance.

  The setting sun cast huge shadows around the carriage and Alethea withdrew deeper into the seat. Anticipation of the coming night plus her position pressed against her husband for warmth made it impossible for her to relax, so she distracted herself by watching the purple tinged shadows stretch longer and longer across the frozen ground.

  They swept through Oxford at a goodly pace. Alethea’s excitement rose swiftly as she avidly searched for the coaching inn where they would stay the night. A hot bath, a good dinner, a double bed and each other would serve their needs perfectly. One inn flashed by, then another. Did he give one particular inn his custom? Surely any inn in Oxford would satisfy their needs.

  Continuing in silence, though sorely puzzled, Alethea watched the city of Oxford speed past without a hint of them slowing down.

  “Did we miss our inn, my dear? I saw several just now that would see us through the night.” Keep a positive attitude. The last thing she wanted to do was to find fault with him.

  “No, my love, I thought we would press on through Oxford at the least to Eynsham. The King’s Arms there, I understand, is well equipped to serve all our needs. Thompson and Clemons should have everything well in hand by now.” Jack patted her hands beneath the blanket to reassure her. “Do not worry. A mere five miles or so will see us there.”

  “Eynsham?” The name was unfamiliar to her, but then she knew only London and a few other English towns.

  “Yes, a quaint little village, just off the main coaching road. Someone recommended it to me as having less custom than Oxford, and better service because of it. And of course, we will then have less road to travel tomorrow.” As he turned toward the opposite window, she caught his fleeting look of consternation.

  Did the coming night give him cause for concern? Because of his actions in the carriage all those weeks ago? She must make sure this time she did not cry out. If he was a little rough, perhaps she could help him understand how to be gentler with her. God knew she had precious little advice to give him, but she could tell him what felt good and what did not. That was a start at least.

  The sun had spent its last rays, and the chilly twilight had painted the world in purple and black by the time the carriage swept into the yard at the King’s Arms. Lamps had been lit in the yard, casting a cheery glow on the frigid darkness.

  Jack handed Alethea down and took her arm. After so many hours of sitting, to stretch her aching legs seemed a treat. The cold, damp air permeated her cloak instantly and she huddled against her husband’s warmth, glad they did not have far to go.

  “Innkeeper,” Jack called, heading for the taproom as soon as they entered the lovely warmth of the inn. A boisterous gathering off to one side sang enthusiastically, if slightly off key.

  The portly man who appeared, his face wreathed in smiles, bobbed his head. “Good evening, my lord. How may I be of service?”

  “My valet came ahead to make all in readiness. I trust he has secured the rooms we require? Dinner as well”—Jack sniffed the air—“which I must say smells delicious.”

  He was right. The succulent aroma made Alethea’s mouth water.

  “I’m that sorry, my lord. As I told Mr. Thompson, I’ve only two left tonight in the whole inn. It was a trifle late when he arrived and we’d just had a large party fill us up.” The man stared steadily at Jack. “Will you take the two?”

  Alethea frowned. “Should we press on for the next inn, my dear? We must have three at the least.” She couldn’t believe the bad luck. If only they’d stopped earlier. “I don’t see how this inn can accommodate us.”

  “I fear it will be the same story no matter where we go.” Jack sighed, looking rueful. “At this hour of the night there will simply be fewer rooms available.” He raised an eyebrow at the innkeeper. “I assume my man and Miss Clemons have prepared the rooms already?”

  “They have, my lord.”

  “Then I suggest we take them and make the best of it. At least we are assured of a good dinner.”

  “But how—”

  “If you take one with Clemons, I can take the other with Thompson. Not the best solution, but at least we can get some much-needed rest tonight,” he said glumly.

  Staring at her husband with abject dismay, Alethea wanted to soundly curse the Fates. All her plans for the evening brought crashing down because there weren’t enough rooms.

  “Tomorrow we will arrive at Merrywell and all will be well, I promise you.” He kissed her hand, and grudgingly she nodded.

  What else could she do? Causing a scene would not serve any purpose. No, best let it go and bide her time. But there would be a reckoning tomorrow, one way or the other.

  * * * *

  The drive next day was much shorter for which Alethea gave thanks. She’d not been so long on horseback for months and her leg and thigh muscles ached and her back was stiff from the unaccustomed posture. Perhaps if the weather held, she could ride more during their stay in Gloucestershire.

  Midmorning they turned off the main road and meandered through the countryside, a light dusting of snow giving the landscape the look of an iced cake. The road took them through a stand of oak trees until they suddenly popped out of the woods into a clearing where a stray ray of sunshine glinted off a stately manor house.

  Merrywell sat to the left of the drive, a grand two-story pale red brick manor in pleasing proportions that immediately exuded calm. The charming rounded front wing reminded Alethea of a castle, only not so forbidding as the Keep. Two main wings jutted out on either side, also rounded on the ends, so different from the box-like buildings she was used to. In the snow it quite looked like a fairy tale palace.

  “What a beautiful, restful house,” she murmured, her tension draining away. “Do you have a country estate like this, Jack?” She rather hoped he did.

  “I don’t quite know.” He also gazed at the towering structure. “I have eight properties in England and Scotland, but I haven’t had time to visit all of them yet. Perhaps after the baby is born, we will go on our own ‘Royal Progress’ and discover them all.”

  The idea caught Alethea’s fancy. Traveling around the country with Jack would be wonderfully romantic. She sent her husband a sultry smile. “I’d love that, Jack. Perhaps by the end of next summer?”

  “An excellent time to view country properties, out of the heat of London. Now, however, we must ooh and ahhh over Merrywell,” he said, peering up at the m
anor, “which from the outside seems quite appropriate. Still, it is never amiss to flatter when one’s relatives are concerned.”

  The carriage came to a halt and Jack helped Alethea down the steps and took her arm. She smiled to herself as they approached the front door. Despite last night’s disappointment, she took heart from Jack’s continuing kindness and solicitousness. The idea of touring his country estates together next summer gave her hope that he indeed enjoyed her company, else why suggest they make the journey together? Perhaps the way he ran hot and cold toward her had something to do with the baby, although he’d said before that her ruined state had not been a major obstacle to his affection. These same thoughts chased each other around her head constantly. Hopefully the peace at Merrywell would allow them to rest as well.

  Jack had scarcely knocked at the door when it flew open, revealing a butler with a serious face who ushered them into a grand entrance hall. Twin staircases rose, one on either side of the open entryway, the stairs and bannisters of polished cherry wood. Warm yellow walls held a series of paintings, some apparently family portraits. Brilliant light from the bank of windows illuminated the room, giving it an airy feeling.

  “Lord Manning, Lady Manning, welcome to Merrywell.” The tall butler bowed deferentially and snapped his fingers at a nearby footman, who leaped to take their cloaks. “I am Dobson. Please allow me to show you to the drawing room where everyone is gathered this morning.”

  “Everyone?” she whispered to Jack as they mounted the right side of the grand staircase. “Who else is here, do you suppose?” She’d not expected to be part of a large gathering. The larger the party, the more she’d have to share her husband with them. And she wanted Jack to herself as much as possible.

  “We shall see shortly.” He laced their fingers together as they reached the main floor.

  Dobson led them past several large receiving rooms and finally to a smaller room, painted a soft blue, bright with afternoon light that made the whole room seem to glow.

  “The Earl and Countess of Manning.” Dobson bowed and left as Dalbury rose from a chaise near the fireplace.

  “Manning. Good to see you.” The marquess strode toward them, a rare smile on his usually brooding face. “Lady Manning. So good to see you again. I hope you are well?”

  “Good day, my lord. Yes, I am very well, thank you.” Alethea had scarcely bowed when Lady Dalbury appeared and threw her arms around her brother.

  “Jack, you villain. I have not seen you in an age.” She hugged him fiercely, her blue eyes snapping with excitement.

  “I have been rather busy, dear sister, with a marriage and a wedding trip.” He grinned at her, his eyes drinking her in. “You are looking marvelously well, Kat.” Holding her out so he could better see her, he nodded in approval. “Blooming with health, I would say. Has Dalbury been able to restrain you from fencing practice?”

  “Indeed he has.” Her husband spoke up, grasping his wife’s hand and bringing her back to his side. “She has neither fenced nor ridden for three months. I’ve had the devil’s own time keeping her entertained the while”—the couple exchanged a sultry glance—“but it seems to have been working. Company is a great diversion as well.” Dalbury gestured toward another couple who had also risen at their entrance. “Lady Manning, I think you know my sister, Lady Juliet. May I make known to you her husband?” He sent a mischievous grin to his sister, whom Alethea had met during the past Season. “Her true husband, I am happy to say, Mr. Amiable Morley.”

  A tall, well-built man with golden hair and a guarded smile came forward, Lady Juliet on his arm. “My lady, I am very pleased to meet you at last. Your sister-in-law has told me much about you, as has my wife. I see they have not exaggerated your charms. My sincere felicitations on your recent marriage.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Morley.” Alethea smiled and curtsied. “Katarina, Juliet, how lovely to see you again.”

  “Oh, Alethea.” Lady Juliet threw her arms around Alethea, embracing her with the same enthusiasm Katarina had shown for her brother. “So very good to see you again, my dear. Come, we three must banish the gentlemen to the far corner so we may talk amongst ourselves.” She playfully pushed her husband a step or two toward Lord Dalbury. “I wish to know all about your betrothal and wedding. And Kat tells me you are increasing just as she and I are. Isn’t it wonderful that all of our children will grow up with lots and lots of cousins to play with? Come.” Grasping Alethea’s hand, Juliet pulled her toward the chaise where they had previously been seated.

  Alethea shot Jack a frantic look. If Juliet knew the circumstances of their wedding, did she know more? Would all the people of the ton assume her child was Jack’s? Or had they discovered her shame?

  Her husband smiled and nodded to her, seemingly without a care in the world.

  A bit of comfort, but not nearly enough to put her at ease in this unexpected company.

  “Do sit beside me, dear Alethea.” Juliet settled herself on the chaise and gazed expectantly at Alethea. “It’s so wonderful to think we are all kinswomen in some manner now, don’t you think? So tell me,” she continued, her eyes beady as a bird’s, “when did you meet Jack? I must know everything about your courtship. I’ve been sadly out of touch this past autumn.”

  * * * *

  “Gentlemen, perhaps we would best be served by repairing to the library while our wives share the latest gossip?” Dalbury tipped up his hand in imitation of drinking from a glass.

  “Excellent idea.” Morley clamped his brother-in-law on the shoulder. “I must say I am deucedly sick of tea.”

  “This way, gentlemen. Katarina?” Dalbury turned to his wife. “We are retiring to the library. Is there anything you require before I leave?” As he talked he crossed the long room and took her hand.

  “If you would be so kind as to ring for more tea and sandwiches, my love? We need a fresh pot to carry us through the afternoon. Alethea declares she is not fatigued, so we will stay here all cozy while you gentlemen enjoy your brandy.” She laughed up at him, her happiness shining in her face.

  He leaned down, bestowing a swift kiss. “I will have Mrs. Potter send it up at once, my dear.”

  The gentle gestures, the displays of affection between his sister and brother-in-law made Jack long to have such an easy amity with his own wife. Now he was here, he must speak with Dalbury about his situation. With the man’s vaunted expertise with women, surely he could instruct Jack in the finer points of making love to his wife without hurting her in the process. He would beg a private audience with him at the earliest opportunity. Perhaps this evening when Morley retired to dress for dinner.

  “Are you coming, Manning?”

  Tearing his gaze from his wife, Jack hurried out the door with the other men.

  Dalbury led them down the corridor to a large room filled from top to bottom with leather-bound books. The essence of leather perfumed the air. A roaring fire, several comfortable leather chairs, and a large mahogany table, the top scattered with maps, a glove, and stacks of books made the room a veritable cave, fitted with pursuits for only the male sex.

  “This is my favorite French brandy,” Dalbury said, pouring three libations into cut-crystal glasses. He handed them around and all three men solemnly swirled the tawny liquid. The aroma of fine spirits filled Jack’s head and he took a sip, letting the brandy sit on his tongue for a moment, savoring the fire before swallowing.

  “French, did you say?” Morley shot the marquess a curious look, before taking a sip.

  “I have certain sources.” Dalbury sniffed the liquor then took a generous swallow. “Not always exactly legal, but necessary in these war-ridden years.”

  Bit by bit the brandy relaxed Jack, the first time today he’d not been on edge. Over the past weeks he’d found he could not be completely at ease around Alethea. Always aware of her eager eyes upon him, he ached from the strain of desiring her, yet h
olding himself in check whenever she was near. Thank God that state of affairs was about to end.

  “So how was the wedding trip to Kent, Manning? Have you and your wife come to an accord?” Dalbury dropped into the chair farthest from the fireplace, sprawling across the comfortable seat.

  “We are headed that way.” Jack sipped the brandy deeply. “Much more amicably than your early days with Kat.” Deflecting interest in his wife by bringing up Dalbury’s turbulent marriage had both merits and drawbacks. The most obvious merit being a change of subject.

  “True, although I was always attracted to her spirit. She has calmed amazingly since the advent of the child, thank God. I was afraid I’d have to lock her in the cellar to keep her away from the swords. However, she willingly gave them up to ensure the babe will not be harmed. Have you found this true of Lady Manning as well?”

  “She is still rather in spirits, I’m afraid, insisted on riding part of the way here, and astride.” Contemplating his drink, Jack mused about his wife. He probably should have forbidden her to ride, but he wanted to please her in some way. “At least she has no liking for swords.”

  “Stubborn, though. Just like Katarina. Well, my waiting time is almost over. She should be brought to bed in about six weeks or so. If it is a boy, we’ll be sailing for Italy as soon as he can travel well.” Sighing, Dalbury leaned back in his chair, a pleased smile on his lips. “It will be expedient if she gives me an heir first thing. These things are so uncertain.”

  “I’ve told Juliet that I don’t care which she has, daughter or son. I will be happy as long as she and the babe fare well.” Standing at the fireplace, Amiable stared into the flames, his hand gripping his glass tightly. “However, we’ve agreed to the name Peaceable, after my brother, if it’s a boy, so I can’t help but hope for that.”

  An awkward silence fell among them. Jack glanced up to find both men staring at him, as if expecting him to speak. And just what the hell could he say? That he prayed nightly for a girl because he wanted an heir of his own making? Would this stigma be the one price for his chivalry? He lowered his gaze back to his glass and the silence became almost palpable.