Carnal Pleasures

by Blaise Kilgallen

  * * * *

  Mounting the stairs to Dulcie’s room, Griff felt tremendously better. He was certain he had solved the problem of Dulcie’s poisonous illness. All she needed to do now was get well. Of course, he still had problems, seeing they had agreed to cancel their false betrothal.

  Simon was waiting in Dulcie’s room. He leaned up on the bed with his front paws to greet his mistress that morning. She had the strength to pet him and coo to him when he licked her hand.

  Dulcie ate most of her porridge with Griff’s help. He poured honey over it to sweeten the taste. She managed to drink two cups of tea with honey instead of sugar. Griff drank two cups of coffee, black, without sweetener. He fibbed to Dulcie, told her the kitchen ran out of sugar. She frowned but accepted his reasoning without argument.

  A pair of housemaids arrived a little later with warm water, soap, and drying cloths to give Dulcie a sponge bath. Sommers supplied a straight razor and supplies for Griff’s use. Griff used an adjacent room for a shave and a wash while the maids stayed to help Dulcie. When he returned, Griff felt much fresher, if not completely comfortable in his wrinkled clothes.

  By mid-morning, Griff took Simon outside for exercise. He saw a rider approaching the manor. As the bay horse trotted up the drive, Griff recognized Rand.

  “Hallo! Glad you made it,” Griff yelled, walking briskly to meet the viscount. Meanwhile Simon pranced around the horse’s feet, barking loud enough to wake the dead.

  “I thought I’d bring your things myself, Griff. I’d been wondering what was going on here.”

  Griff stopped beside the horse, shaking his friend’s hand. “’Tis a long story, Rand. I’ll tell you when we are settled inside.”

  They went side by side to the manor’s entry. Rand tossed down Griff’s portmanteau and dismounted. “Take care of the viscount’s mount, will you?” Griff asked, directing a groom who had run up to take the horse.

  The butler waited at the landing at the top of the stairs. “Sommers, this is Viscount Titus, a good friend of mine. We shall settle in the earl’s study for a time. See that we are not disturbed.”

  “Your bag, sir?”

  “Above stairs, Sommers, thank you.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  “You mean Lady Dulcina was poisoned?”

  “I believe so, Rand. But, by whom I’m not sure.”

  “What then?”

  “It could have been simply a stupid error.”

  Rand twisted the stem of the balloon glass in his fingers, swirling the brandy, his forehead rippling with deep grooves. “Were servants let go?”

  “No. Firing staff is none of my business, Rand. This is not my home, nor am I a favored guest at Bonne Vista. I barged in here with Dr. Johnson, to help Dulcie if I could.” He paused, took a deep swallow. “And almost killed her instead.”

  “What? I can’t believe that. How could that happen?”

  “I’m certain the poison was in the sugar, Rand. And I was instructed by Dr. Johnson that Dulcie be coaxed to drink as much liquid as possible to flush out of her system whatever is making her sick. He didn’t know what poison it was, but he believed she ingested something vile and dangerous.”

  Griff’s taut smile turned into a grimace. “I’m afraid Dulcie has a sweet tooth. She asked me to put huge teaspoonfuls of sugar into her tea when I was fixing it for her. All I was doing, dammit, Rand, was adding more poison.”

  Griff shook his head and gazed across to his friend. “If no one had mentioned rat poison…or the problem of rodents pilfering in the storeroom…well, Dulcie may be dead by now.”

  “Bloody hell!” The viscount exclaimed, quite aghast.

  Griff jumped up from where he sat, holding onto his glass. “I’m afraid I have a sneaking suspicion this was one of the countess’s nefarious schemes. She’s a wicked, unscrupulous woman, Rand. I should have known better to get mixed up with her, but…”

  “And? Why so?”

  “I can’t prove anything, but I suspect she…or her lady’s maid, Emma Trent, put the poison in Dulcie’s sugar bowl when it was brought up on her tray with her pots of tea. I think the sugar masked the taste.”

  “Holy Hell! You mean the countess actually planned to murder her stepdaughter?” Rand’s eyebrows rose to meet the deep wrinkles forming on his forehead. “But why?”

  “For Dulcie’s sizeable inheritance. Why not? The countess is very greedy and I think, vicious. From the information you gleaned from Whitehall, we know she grew up poor and has no conscience, Rand. She…well…forced me…to seduce Dulcie. I confess I was willing. I wanted a rich wife. You didn’t know she is Dulcie’s guardian until she reaches her majority, did you? That’s why Agina wanted the marriage performed quickly—and in haste.”

  “No. I don’t believe it’s known that the countess is Lady Dulcina’s guardian, although now it makes sense. I assume Dulcie has no other close family?”

  “None that I know of. A distant cousin in Yorkshire inherited the title from the earl. I believe the countess planned to hold the entire matter over my head, keep me under the cat’s paw, shall we say, even after I married Dulcie.”

  “But—but you were fighting on the Continent, Griff. You weren’t available to marry the girl.”

  “As I said, Rand, Agina is devious. She could have arranged a proxy marriage.”

  “Aha! I’ve heard of that, but not very often.”

  “I thought of it while I was lying in the hospital. It was why I was so anxious to leave London and get to Surrey so I could speak with Dulcie. So much of the time when I was wounded, I was in such a haze, that I didn’t know if we were married or not. But when I found how sick Dulcie was, I assumed the countess hadn’t yet tried the blasted trick of a proxy marriage.”

  Griff walked to a low chest, picked up the brandy decanter, refilled both snifters for them and paced the earl’s small study.

  “If Dulcie doesn’t marry, the countess gets a small pension, not nearly as much as if her stepdaughter had married. The bulk of what’s spelled out in the earl’s will goes to Dulcie…if she is still breathing the day after her birth date.”

  “Damnation, Griff! From what you said, the girl must’ve been getting the poison fed to her for weeks, maybe longer, a little bit at a time until she sickened! Well, damn my eyes, Spencer! We both know of the countess’s background as a brothel keeper. The woman may very well been involved somewhere in your father’s death.”

  “And, possibly, the Earl of Eberley’s early demise from a heart seizure,” Griff added with a deepening scowl. “I know for certain that she or her lady’s maid dosed Dulcie and me with aphrodisiacs so that we would fall into lust. Why wouldn’t she stoop to use something lethal on others?”

  * * * *

  Griff heard strident voices coming from outside the hall while Rand and he were discussing the countess and her lady’s maid’s actions. Abruptly, the study door swung open. The countess stood there, her blue eyes blazing. Sommers had his hands in the air, unable to stop her. Trent backed up the countess.

  “What right have you to countermand my orders?” Agina shrieked. “What right have you to be in this house at all?”

  Agina and Trent didn’t enter the room, but blocked the doorway.

  Rand sprang to his feet and faced the countess beside Griff.

  “I believe that is my right, Countess, since Dulcina is my betrothed,” Griff replied calmly.

  “If that is the case, then you are still willing to marry the chit?”

  “We never canceled our engagement, Countess.”

  “Then prepare to face a preacher,” Agina blustered, haughtily. “You are to stay out of Dulcina’s room until I say so. I am still her guardian, and I’ve arranged for a special license drawn up in your names. Both the Reverend Carter and my solicitor will be here to see that the marriage takes place later today.” At that blunt announcement, the countess spun on her heels, and she and Trent marched up the stairs to the second storey, leaving Sommers red-faced and confuse
d.

  “What will you do now, Griff?” Rand asked, turning to his friend. “Will you marry the girl?”

  “I can’t, Rand. Not this way, or the witch will get her wish.”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  The countess descended upon Dulcie in her bedroom with Trent hovering at her side. “Well, Dulcina, I see you are wide awake for a change. You do know this is your wedding day, don’t you?”

  Dulcie hadn’t seen or spoken to the countess for several days. Her stepmother’s coming into her room was unheralded, especially when she brought an unexpected announcement.

  “W-what? What do you mean?”

  “Griffith Spencer is here in Surrey, my dear, as he promised. You must know he has been caring for you the past few days. How lucky you are to have such a wonderful husband. He’s come to fulfill his betrothal vow. You are to be man and wife in a few hours.”

  “But I thought…”

  “Don’t worry. He needs only to stand beside you at bedside. Don’t give it a worry. Everything is arranged. He even brought a groomsman to stand up with him. And I will act as your witness.”

  With those surprising words dropped into Dulcie’s lap, the two women swished out of the room, shutting the door behind them.

  Dulcie couldn’t believe what she heard. She and Griff Spencer…married? Today?

  But, he and I agreed to call it off to stop the countess from gaining half of my inheritance. What day is today? She raked her mind, searching for the date. Time has past without my knowing what day or a week it is.

  Another thought, an evil one, sprung into her head. Did Griff decide to betray her after all? He’d confessed his reasons for seducing her, candidly admitting that he needed a rich wife. He also agreed to the earlier arrangement with the countess by falsifying his relationship while living in Eberley House. Could he have joined forces with her stepmother to bilk her of half her father’s wealth? Well, why not? Both he and Agina needed money. It would make both of their lives richer and fuller. She knew Agina never cared a penny for her, and now, she was afraid that Griff felt the same way.

  Dulcie leaned back against the bed pillows. Her eyes watered, although she tried to squeeze her lids tight. A few salty tears rolled down her cheeks. Was that her heart she felt breaking?

  She was so weary of feeling sick, but she pulled herself together, swallowed hard, and inhaled a few deep breaths. She forced herself to sit up straight, brush the tears from her cheeks, and push her lank hair back from her brow. She reached for the bell pull to summon a housemaid. The least she could do was make herself presentable. She wasn’t sure she was strong enough to deny both Griff and the countess’s wishes, but she was determined to try.

  * * * *

  Sommers had placed Griff’s belongings in the chamber next to Dulcie’s. Griff asked Rand to stay on, and the men went up the room together. Griff ordered a hot bath be drawn. Afterward, he dressed in fresh clothes. The men next went below for lunch in the formal dining room.

  They were almost finished eating when Sommers interrupted them.

  “Mr. Spencer, we have two additional guests waiting in the front drawing room. I’ve been asked that you and Lord Titus join them and the countess. Please come this way.”

  Griff threw a cautious look across the table at Rand, but the two men rose and followed the butler.

  The countess made the formal introductions.

  “Reverend Carter and Lawrence Bundy, may I present my stepdaughter’s fiancé, Griffith Spencer and his groomsman, Viscount Titus.” Agina smiled as the men shook hands all around.

  “Now, then gentlemen, shall we join Lady Dulcina? As I told you, she is not quite up to snuff, but she wishes to be married as soon as possible, before her twenty-first birthday tomorrow.”

  The group marched up the central staircase silently, the countess leading the way. Trent stood outside Dulcie’s room. She nodded briefly to the countess as a footman opened the door for the visitors.

  Dulcie had bathed and had her hair washed although it took a lot of strength out of her. One of the maids had brushed her hair dry, and it flowed around her shoulders in a halo of silken splendor. She had lost weight during her ordeal, but she donned one of the gowns she purchased in London. The color looked good on her even if it didn’t fit well. She sat in the wing chair where Griff sat when he stayed with her in her room. One of the maids helped Dulcie raise her slippered feet onto a low stool and draped a lacy shawl over her shoulders. Unfortunately, her skin, usually blooming with good health, looked rather sallow, and her lips were pale. She looked composed, however. A tiny flush of warmth tinted her newly sculptured cheeks, forming a more regal and aristocratic countenance since she lost weight. Dulcie sat unsmiling and quiet.

  “Ah, I see you are ready, my dear,” the countess greeted her, effusively, not giving Dulcie time to reply. “We shall do this quickly so that you may go back to your bed, dearest.”

  Griff approached Dulcie. Reaching down for her hand, he halted beside her. It felt limp in his, but he squeezed hers gently, anyway. Rand ranged himself on Griff’s other side. The countess stood next to Dulcie, with Lawrence Bundy, the Trayhern’s solicitor, beside Agina. He wore the same satisfied expression as the countess wore. The minister faced Dulcie and Griff and opened his prayer book and cleared his throat.

  * * * *

  “Dear friends, we are gathered here today to join together Griffth Ronald Spencer and Dulcina Trayhern in lawful marriage…”

  Dulcie’s head started to spin, but she shook away the wooziness. Her throat was as dry as parchment. She hoped she would be able to utter the words she needed. She hid her other hand amidst the folds of her gown, clenching and closing the fingers to give her courage.

  The minister droned on until he finally reached the marriage vows.

  “Do thee Griffth Ronald Spencer take this woman, Dulcina Trayhern, for better or worse…?”

  “Er…”

  “I’m sure my nephew is nervous, but that is fine, Reverend,” the countess quickly interposed. “Please continue.”

  “And do thee, Dulcina Trayhern, take this man, Griffith Ronald Spencer, to love and obey…”

  Dulcie cleared her throat.

  Rapidly, with more than a small amount of conviction, she exclaimed, “No, I certainly will not! I will not marry him! Now or ever!”

  Every person in the room except her was stunned into silence.

  Chapter Forty

  The countess lunged at the weakened girl with the fierce venom of a striking adder, railing at her with a furious tirade.

  Griff grabbed Agina’s arm roughly, without apology, and pulled her away from Dulcie.

  “Hold on, now, Spencer,” Lawrence Bundy said. The smile had been wiped from his expression until Griff finally let Agina go. “The earl’s daughter is simply being stubborn. Let me speak with her alone. I’m sure we can fix everything.”

  “Wait, just a minute…” Rand sputtered, not sure whether or not he should interfere.

  Griff gripped his friend’s shoulder to stop him. Then he swung to face Agina’s lawyer. “Don’t bother, Bundy. Lady Dulcina and I are not getting married. The lady changed her mind, and I will not force her to accept me as her husband. I think you should tear up that special license right now. You won’t need it for this wedding.”

  “But Mr. Spencer…”

  Reverend Carter had stepped back when the tussle between the countess and Griff occurred. His spectacles slipped down his nose, and his bushy eyebrows flew upward at his surprised expression. He grabbed at his prayer book, and quickly snapped the pages closed as he headed toward the door.

  “Perhaps, if you will excuse me, I s-should be on my way,” he stuttered and exited as if his coattails were on fire.

  The countess glowered at Griff.

  He glared back.

  The two stared for an interminable period, until the countess at last understood she had lost the fight. She turned to glance at Trent who stood in the doorway. The lady’s maid
nodded very slowly.

  “Well, then,” Agina said, haughtily, her gaze flinging daggers to everyone in the room. “If that is the case, I shall leave this nasty chit to herself and depart for London and Eberley House as quickly as I can get packed.” She sneered, especially at Dulcie. “And you…I never want to see you again.” Agina stalked from the room with Trent following close on her heels, murmuring soothing words into the peeress’s ears as the two women progressed down the hallway.

  Lawrence Bundy took the marriage license from his jacket pocket and tore it into several small pieces. With a weak flourish of disappointment, he let them float to the bedroom floor. “So much for that bit of work,” he said, and walked out and down the central staircase. He was seen ten minutes later galloping his horse down the carriage drive.

  Only Griff and Rand remained in the room with Dulcie. Griff gazed down at Dulcie, but she turned her head away and wouldn’t acknowledge him.

  If only she had looked up, she would have been able to interpret his feelings quite clearly by looking upon his solemn, concerned expression. But Dulcie kept her eyes tightly closed.

  “The problem is solved,” Griff said to her, very gently. “You are well on the road to recovery.” Deeper emotions, those he wanted badly to express to her, caught in his throat and didn’t allow him to spit them out. “Stay well, Dulcie,” he murmured very low, very sincerely. He glanced over at Rand and nodded, letting him know it was time for them to go.

  * * * *

  Dulcie sat there, permitting herself to calm down after she heard the men’s footsteps leave the room.

  When one of the maids tapped on her door a bit later, Dulcie bade the girl enter. “Would you please help me undress so I can get back into bed?” She felt as limp and boneless as her hand had been when Griff grabbed it and squeezed it.

  When she was settled down in bed again, she asked for a tea tray. On her way out