by Danice Allen
Grinning from ear to ear, Nathan added, “Your head’s in the clouds, Sam. If Clara hadn’t come along with you on this walk, I’d be as lonely as a polecat.”
“I’m sorry,” Sam apologized sheepishly. “I haven’t been very good company, have I?”
“He’s had to talk to me, miss,” Clara said. “And he’s made me talk about myself, if you can believe it. After two days of nonstop gabbing, I’ve bored the poor man nearly to death.”
“You’ve done nothing of the sort,” Nathan objected, smiling down at the pretty servant girl. “The stories you tell about your brothers and sisters sound very similar to the antics of my own family. And your father sounds like the very same sort of autocrat as my own father. Pa ruled the roost with an iron fist.”
“Only my father is a butler and yours was a gentleman farmer. In short, your family is rich and important and mine is of the servant class,” Clara reminded him, cheerfully unembarrassed.
“My family wasn’t always rich,” Nathan told her.
“Only the past three generations,” she retorted.
“What has money got to do with anything?”
“In England, it has everything to do with everything.”
“England isn’t the most perfect place in the world, you know. Not everything they do here is sacrosanct,” Nathan said dryly.
“Don’t let my father hear you talk that way,” Clara admonished him with a laugh. “He considers England the only really civilized country in the world. He refers to you as the ‘rough colonial.’ And since Madison has chewed the tassels off two pillows in the library and tracked stable muck on the kitchen floor time and time again, he doesn’t have a very good opinion of him, either.”
Listening to the surprisingly unrestrained and lively banter between Nathan and Clara, Sam realized that her absentmindedness and lack of conversation had not been a bad thing. Even now, the two of them were chattering away as if she weren’t even there. This could mean only one thing; they were smitten with each other!
Sam’s romantic nature made her instantly seize onto the idea that she would promote a match between Nathan and Clara … and turn it to her own advantage as well! She couldn’t wait to get Clara alone to tell her her plans.
Later that night, while Clara helped her change into an evening gown to wear to the opera, Sam broached the subject.
“Clara, what do you think of Nathan Ford?”
Clara had been straightening the hem of Sam’s blond satin gown, trimmed with gold, and when she stood up her face was flushed. “What do you mean, miss?” she mumbled, averting her eyes.
“I mean … do you like him?”
Clara’s brown eyes were serious as she looked over Sam’s shoulder in the mirror. “Do you mean as your suitor, miss? Are you asking my opinion of who you should marry?”
“Clara!” Sam admonished. “You know I intend to marry Julian.”
Clara bit her lip. “I was wondering if maybe you’d changed your mind, seeing as how—”
“Seeing as how Julian is squiring Charlotte Batsford around and everyone expects him to marry her?” Sam finished for her.
Clara shrugged and gave her a pained look. “It doesn’t look good, miss. And I don’t think lowering the décolletage on that gown or pinning your curls into a sophisticated knot is going to make a jot of difference to His Lordship.”
Sam glanced down at the pale mounds of her small breasts peeking above the gilded ruching of her gown. She’d never felt so naked. She blushed, but retorted, “It certainly can’t hurt.”
Clara shook her head and moved to the dressing table and opened Sam’s jewelry box. Her voice was low and considered as she said, “Maybe you should give one of your suitors a chance to win your heart. And of the three you’ve been teasing His Lordship with, if you’re asking me who I like the best … well, I’d have to say Mr. Ford. By far … Mr. Ford.”
“You’ve certainly enjoyed his company on our walks,” Sam pointed out, turning and moving to the end of the bed to watch Clara pick through the jewelry for the perfect accessories for her gown.
Clara turned, her expression guilt-stricken. “I know I’ve been remiss in my conduct, miss. I know I’ve been too chatty and free with Mr. Ford, but his manners are so friendly and easy. He’s been very kind and seemed so interested in what I thought, what I liked, what I felt, even though I’m just a servant girl. Truth to tell, it was very hard not to spill out my heart like I did!”
Sam moved forward and gently took hold of Clara’s shoulders. “Don’t be a goose, Clara!” she said. “I’m not scolding you. I understand completely why you enjoyed talking with Nathan. I’m quite sure he enjoyed your company equally as much. In fact, I think he’s in a fair way to falling in love with you.”
Clara dropped the pearl pendant earrings she was holding and pressed her clasped hands against her chest. “Miss! What are you saying? Mr. Ford’s a fine gentleman, and I’m just a lowly lady’s maid!”
“Mr. Ford thinks nothing of such differences, which is precisely why I like him so much.”
“He likes you, miss. He’d never prefer me over you. That’s why he keeps coming round … to see you!”
“My guess is Mr. Ford doesn’t exactly know his mind—or heart—yet. But if the three of us continue to do things together, it won’t be long before he does. And if Julian thinks I prefer Nathan, he’ll be mad with jealousy. I know it bothers him to think I might be whisked off to Virginia, half a world away.”
Clara shook her head and looked worried. “I don’t know, miss. A lot of people’s feelings are involved here. I hope nothing goes awry.”
Sam pulled Clara into her arms and gave her a hug. “Don’t worry. I won’t let anyone hurt you, Clara.”
“I was worried about you, miss,” Clara mumbled into Sam’s gauzy sleeve.
“You needn’t worry about me,” Sam said with a confident smile. “I can take care of myself. And since there’s still a few minutes before we leave for the opera, I’m going to put them to good use. I’m going to the library, Clara.”
Clara blinked. “The library, miss? Whatever for?”
“To do some reading,” she replied breezily, walking quickly out of the room. But not just any reading, Sam added to herself as she descended the stairs. Julian had an extensive library. Surely he had some books that would explain the mysteries of human sexuality to her. She was tired of wondering exactly how men and women made love and babies. Only a child would be so completely naive on the subject, and she was not a child!
“Where is she?” Julian glanced for the third time at his pocket watch and scowled up the stairs. “We’ve been waiting fifteen minutes.”
“This is the first time Sam has ever been to the opera,” Priss said, glancing at Nan for corroboration. “I daresay she wants to look her best and is simply taking longer than usual at her toilette.”
“Yes, I’m sure you’re right, Priss,” Nan agreed.
Julian turned to Hedley. “Fetch Clara,” he ordered.
Hedley bowed and made a barely perceptible gesture to a nearby footman, who immediately climbed the stairs and headed down the hall toward Sam’s room. In less than a minute, Clara was curtsying before Julian.
“Yes, my lord?”
“What’s taking Samantha so long to get ready?”
Clara’s large brown eyes widened. “She was ready a half hour ago, my lord.”
“Then where is she?” Julian tried not to sound as irritable as he felt. He wasn’t usually such a stickler about promptness, but lately he’d been in a perpetually restless and tetchy mood … for no known reason. Anything and everything seemed to set him off. Perhaps it was as well that he’d been avoiding Sam.
“In the library, my lord.”
“In the library?”
“Shall I fetch her, my lord?”
“No,” he said shortly, sweeping past the servant girl and down the hall to the library. He opened the door and found Sam sitting in a chair and, by the light of a candelabra, reading a book. Seve
ral other books were strewn at her feet. She was so absorbed in whatever she was reading that she did not even notice his intrusion.
She was a fetching sight, her pale curls pulled into a sleek knot that showed off her delicate features and the slim, elegant lines of her neck. The blond satin gown she wore was a perfect color for her complexion, but he also noticed that the décolletage was rather daring. There was more than a glimpse to be had of her small, round breasts. And the fact that she was leaning forward did not help the matter. He could almost imagine that a nipple was about to make an appearance…
“Oh!” Sam startled when she saw Julian at the door and leaped to her feet, causing the book she’d been reading to plunge to the floor. It landed in a heap of bent pages.
“That’s certainly no way to treat fine literature, brat,” Julian scolded, stepping forward and bending to retrieve the abused volume. But Sam bounded forward just as quickly, and she reached for the book at the same moment Julian did. Their hands grazed, their gazes locked. She held on, and so did he.
His gaze strayed to her décolletage. At such close range and at such an angle, he no longer had to imagine the appearance of a nipple; both of them were in full view. Feeling an instant warming in his loins, he hastily released the book and stood up, but not before he noticed a picture on one of the bent pages. It was a carefully detailed diagram of male genitalia, complete with arrows and labeling!
“What the devil are you reading?”
Sam held the book behind her and backed away, her eyes wide and frightened. “N-nothing, Julian,” she stuttered.
“Nothing, my eye,” he growled, bending to pick up several books from the floor. His eyebrows drew together in a frown as he read the titles out loud. “The Fundamentals of Marital Coupling! A Guide for Training a Modest but Dutiful Wife! The Pleasures of the Flesh, by Dr. Donald Firmrod…! Good God, Sam, why are you reading this rubbish?” He stared at her, aghast.
She jutted out her chin. “Why do you call it rubbish? They are books I found right here in your library, Julian … although they were tucked away on the top shelf and I had to climb a ladder to reach them. But they were all written by scholarly gentleman who dealt with the subject scientifically.” He watched a delicate blush bloom on her cheeks as her lashes lowered and she stared at the floor. “Well, perhaps Dr. Firmrod wasn’t exactly scientific. His book had more pictures than anything else.”
“I can well imagine,” Julian muttered, barely able to keep his anger in check. “And what of the book you hold behind your back? Does it have mostly pictures, too?”
She licked her lips nervously, still looking at the floor. “Well … er … yes, it is mostly pictures.”
“What is it titled, Sam?” he asked her with forced calmness.
One daintily slippered foot peeked out from under her gown and she slid her toe nervously over the carpet. “Er … it is called The Anatomy of Man.”
He nodded curtly. “I see. And did it never occur to you, Sam, that it is not appropriate for a young female to be reading about such subjects?”
Sam’s tawny brows drew together and she lifted her head to meet his disapproving gaze with defiance. “How else was I to find out what I need to know?”
He controlled himself with an effort. “What makes you think you need to know about such things?”
“I assume I will be engaging in sexual activities once I’m married, Julian. Shouldn’t I know what to expect?”
“Good God, Sam,” Julian expostulated, running a distracted hand through his hair. “It is for your husband to explain such things to you. Before marriage there’s no earthly reason why you shouldn’t remain completely—” He paused, searching for the right word.
“Ignorant?” she offered.
“Innocent,” he returned firmly. “Men like their brides to be as ignorant … er … as innocent as possible.”
“But that doesn’t seem to keep them from running to their mistresses soon after the ceremony,” Sam mumbled in a low voice, turning her eyes back to the floor.
Julian stepped forward and grabbed her arms, compelling her to look at him. He was beginning to feel more alarm than anger. “Who have you been talking to? What do you know of mistresses?”
Her blue eyes flashed. “My mother was one, wasn’t she?”
She had a point. Julian didn’t know what to think, how to feel. With Sam’s background, it seemed almost ludicrous to imagine he could keep her as innocent of the world as other girls her age. But, as long as a young female was well chaperoned, a guardian could perhaps feel that there was a certain safety in ignorance. But Sam was not like most young females—in oh-so-many ways!
“Don’t be angry with me, Julian,” she said, suddenly contrite and pleading. She lifted a hand and stroked his lapel. “You know my nature. I can’t help being curious. I want to know these things so I can be a good wife.”
“As I said, your husband will explain everything to you once you are married,” he said with a weary sigh and finding himself, irrelevantly, admiring Sam’s petal-shaped earlobes.
“But what if he’s not a patient man … like you, Julian?” she said with a pout. “He might not like to explain and demonstrate … and such.”
Any man would be thrilled with the opportunity to teach you the joys of lovemaking, Sam, Julian thought to himself, but said nothing. Suddenly he was imagining himself actually nibbling on those petal-shaped earlobes of hers…
Luckily Sam spoke again, breaking his ill-directed concentration. “I think it best that I enter into marriage at least a little informed,” she continued to argue with a tiny furrow between her brows. “Amanda isn’t around to talk to, and as my aunts have never been married, I didn’t think they’d be a good source of information. I felt my only recourse was to find out what I need to know from books.”
Julian wondered why he was still holding on to Sam’s arms, or why he’d even grabbed hold of her in the first place. He’d been angry, but now his anger seemed all but dissipated … or distracted. But there was a tension in the air that was still palpable. If it wasn’t anger, what was it? His sudden fascination with her earlobes might lend a clue, but he really didn’t want to overanalyze an idle thought and turn it into something it wasn’t.
“I hope your curiosity has been satisfied,” he murmured at last, hoping to bring an end to such an uncomfortable interview. “But I do not want you reading any more books about”—he swallowed against a suddenly dry throat—“sexual matters, Sam. Do you understand?”
She looked troubled and dissatisfied. “To be honest, I don’t really care if I can’t read any more of those stupid books. They left me with even more questions than I began with! I now understand the mechanics of the sexual act, but I’m sure there must be much more to lovemaking than what goes where!”
Julian’s hands tightened on Sam’s arms. “Sam—”
“For example, does one do the sexual act with one’s clothes on, or without?” she asked earnestly.
“Sam, I don’t think you should conjecture about—” Julian rasped.
“Does the man kiss the woman only on the lips, or does he kiss her other places, too? Is it considered proper for the woman to return the man’s caresses … if he does, indeed, caress her? Or does he just perform the act and have done with it? Is the woman supposed to enjoy it? Do you think I shall have to hide my emotions from my husband, Julian? Because you know very well that I’m not the type of person that could engage in such an intimate activity with a man I was in love with and not enjoy it!”
Julian abruptly let go of Sam’s arms and took a step back. An image of Sam, radiantly aroused and naked, had burst into his mind like a fireworks explosion. “I’m not the person to whom you should address these questions, Sam,” he said in a beleaguered tone.
“But you’ve been my teacher in everything else, Julian,” she protested. “Why not in this as well?”
“Now is not a good time to talk about this subject, Samantha,” Julian said, feeling more desperate b
y the moment. “I’ve asked the Batsfords to sit in our box and have arranged to meet them at the theater. It would be most rude to keep Charlotte and her parents waiting.”
Steeling himself against her hurt and bewildered expression, he turned to go, then turned back. “There’s a hair loose … here,” he muttered in a gentler tone, touching a tendril of hair that had fallen over her ear. “Go upstairs and tidy yourself, and I’ll meet you in the hall in no more than five minutes. Do you understand?”
Then, without waiting for an answer, Julian resolutely left the room.
Five minutes later, with her nose in the air, Sam descended the stairs to the entry hall. After Julian had dismissed her and her questions as if she were a child—simply because he was afraid of keeping Charlotte waiting—Sam had been decidedly miffed. But her show of dignified affront was wasted. Julian wasn’t watching her. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she discovered him occupied in looking through a pile of calling cards and invitations that had been left in the course of the day.
“You look … er … lovely, Samantha,” Nan said, glancing nervously at Sam’s low décolletage. “But don’t you think you ought to wear a little more lace just … er … there?” She pointed gingerly at Sam’s chest.
“No, Aunt Nan, I don’t,” Sam said, her chin set defiantly, her gaze fixed intently on Julian … who continued to ignore her.
“It’s no more than most of the girls show,” Priss admitted, “but I’m surprised Julian approved it. Is it the same dress you were wearing when he found you in the library?”
“Of course it is,” Sam replied, still staring at Julian’s broad back in his elegant black evening jacket. He seemed totally absorbed in one particular unfolded sheet of parchment paper. He turned slightly and she noticed that his brows were lowered forbiddingly.
“Well, then, if Julian approves, I’ll say nothing more about it,” Nan said, but she didn’t sound convinced.
Hedley came forward with Sam’s matching satin cape, trimmed with ermine, but she felt a perverse urge to force Julian to comment on her dress before she left the house. He hadn’t said a word about it in the library.
